#always make sure your pets are captive bred

[tadpoles-yay]

Todays tadpiole,

The banded bullfrog/asian painted frog/digging frog/Malaysian bullfrog/common Asian frog/painted ballon frog or more commonly know as the chubby frog tadpole

These many named goobers are actually a personal favourite species of mine

And I own one

his (I think) name is Potato (I am aware that’s a basic name) but we mostly call him Guenouille which is French for fuog. There aren’t any typos in the previous sentence. I am serious.

hehe beeg boi colors

[itsabouttimex2]

Y’know how reader is stuck as a monkey in the Yan monkiefam posts, what if reader somehow sneaks off the mountain and stumbles upon macaque. Macaque gets a specific vibe from the mysterious monkey, so he takes it as his own. Monkey reader is trying to communicate to macaque on how to transform back, but either due to lack of understanding or macaque not wanting reader to turn back, reader is still a monkey much to their dismay. Meanwhile Monkiefam is panicking and looking everywhere for reader. This could be seen as a part 3 to the Yan monkiefam posts with an added platonic Yan macaque.

How would you write this scenario? Sorry if it’s long, I started rambling a bit lol. I really like your writing and was hoping you would write something similar to this, I love platonic Yan and you stuff really caters to me. Thank you🩷🩷

Monkiefam: Part Three

Sable Savior

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

(💜💜Post one-hundred, huh? Feels good to have gotten here! My ask box has been wiped, and is open again! Character x character requests are now allowed! 💜💜)

Monkeys don’t make for good pets. They’re cute, sure. They’re funny and interesting creatures that are worthy of study. But it’s impossible to raise them properly.

And it’s impossible to obtain one ethically.

Either the mothers are shot to death in the wild and the babies are ripped from their still bodies, or they’re kept in horrid conditions and forcibly bred again and again, having their babies torn from them after only a few days or weeks.

All for a cute pet that will be dumped in a few years. Monkeys don’t stay cute, after all. They grow out of the clothes you put them in, grow out of the training you put them through, grow from cute “living dolls” and into wild, fanged animals all their own.

Once they’ve shed their youthful looks and compliant behaviors, the fate of every ‘pet’ monkey is the same- death.

Whether shot or euthanized or dumped far from home and left to starve, monkeys kept in captivity almost always have unhappy endings.

You could be easily mistaken for one of those unfortunate creatures, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Even after two full weeks, the transformation you had accidentally locked yourself into remained strong, showing no signs of faltering.

What at first seemed like a potential method of escape had quickly because the thickest chain in your shackle.

Not only was your newfound ‘family’ thrilled to have you as a cuddly little monkey, they seemed even more intent on coddling you.

MK especially adored having a ‘little sibling’ who couldn’t escape his grip. Day in and day out, every minute spent by your side, tending to your needs as a form of stress relief. Whether it was wrestling you into the bathtub or carving up fruit to spoon-feed you, the hero had quickly become a constant smothering presence. He was a fine caretaker, but you would much prefer that he used those skills on anyone else but yourself.

Just barely had he talked himself out of dressing you up, reasoning that you might find fabric uncomfortable over your fluffy white fur.

Not that he allowed you to remove the silk ribbons that his mentor had tied. Those were staying, and MK made sure of it. Every single time you had managed to squirm one free from your body, he just snatched it off the ground and tied it back on.

And, speaking of his mentor-

For all the doting you faced at the hands of MK, Sun Wukong was twice as bad.

Having been the caretaker for thousands of monkeys through the passing of centuries, it seemed that the Great Sage had a knack for pampering the furry darlings- and that translated quite easily to a human being who had accidentally trapped themselves in the form of a cub.

Already you had spent hours upon hours upon his lap, feeling Wukong’s deft fingers comb through your fur in search of debris to remove. Given that you weren’t allowed outside, he rarely found anything more than dust. Still, his intention was more to bond than it was to clean.

For him, the best part was when you'd get so bored that you'd start stroking his fur in turn, picking through it just to pass the time. Even though your heart wasn't really in the action, he was absolutely thrilled to have you acting like a real monkey in some small manner.

The Great Sage was so thrilled, in fact, that he'd barely allow you even a minute alone. And though some of this was justified by your inability to properly function in this new form, it went far beyond the realm of understandable when the king started taking you to bed with him- all under the guise of 'keeping you safe'. You'd rest all through the night tucked into his arms, listening to a powerful beating within the Monkey King’s muscular chest.

Against MK, you were lulled to sleep by a slow throb, finding some gentleness in the steady and low thrum.

Against Wukong, you were cascaded by the furious white-hot pounding of a heart blessed by power almost beyond comprehension.

You’d be lying if you said neither was at least a little comforting to hear as you drifted to a deep, dreamless sleep.

But here and now, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth to be found.

You had finally managed to slip from the clutches of your ‘family’, mustering just enough motor control to clamber up the couch and jump to a window left cracked, slipping under the peering pane and crawling to ‘freedom’.

On unfamiliar and furry legs you had fled, away from a gilded cage and into the beckoning wilderness. Maybe a part of you now longed for the forests, driving you to escape and run free. Perhaps some newfound simian instinct craved a life free from unchanging scenery and sturdy walls.

So away you went, chirping and chittering and calling out to the rising moon as the night grew darker and darker.

And as you raced into those darkening woods, throwing caution to the wind, you also drew further and further away from any semblance of safety.

It hadn’t taken you even twenty minutes to find trouble on the supposedly idyllic mountain.

And now you were here, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Not alone, of course.

A troop of monkeys surrounds your quivering form, hissing and snarling at such a strange outsider. The count is easily fifteen to twenty, each one bearing sharp fangs and hunched down in aggressive stances.

You hunker away, pressed to the cold bark with eyes pointed downwards. You don’t dare move or make a sound.

It’s not enough to save you.

The largest member of the pack snarls for just a second, rearing back with his teeth bared. Before you can even flinch, the simian lurches towards you with a splitting howl, powerful jaws snagging the skin of your neck.

The scent of blood fills the air.

As it shrieks through a mouthful of your flesh, the monkey violently slings you back and forth. It beats at your face and neck, hammering your diminutive form with all the strength it can muster. When you dare to try and strike back it throws you to the ground, beating ruthlessly down on your stomach.

It hollers.

The rest of the pack jump into the fray, beating and biting and tearing at fur. Where one shoves, another pulls. Any spot left untouched by one is promptly assaulted by another. Not an inch of you is spared the violent assault, nor is mercy given in regards to your youthful form.

And right as darkness swells in the corners of your vision, the troop freezes.

A barbed lash of black strikes the alpha across the face, leaving a deep and stinging cut where it lands. He howls and shrieks and falls back, shooting off into the jungle and disappearing from sight. From only the trail of blood left in his wake, his troop follows, fearful but still loyal.

“Someone’s had a rough go of it,” says a voice that would be insufferably smug if it hadn’t just saved you from probable death.

Two cold hands wrap around your prone form, prying you from the ground.

The white of your fur has almost entirely disappeared behind a mixture of wet soil and stinking blood, filthy and pungent. The ribbon around your neck has been torn free and left on the ground, lying in tatters.

“You‘re still a little too young to be without your mother, fuzzball. She’s the one who’s supposed to teach you ‘the ways of the wild’, yeah? Where’d she get off to?”

Macaque cradles you close in one of his arms, lightly stroking the underside of your chin with a sharp nail. His touch is surprisingly gentle, far more than you’d expect for a demon. His voice takes a turn for the soft.

“Nah, that’s not it. If you’re this close to another pack without her, then she’s… not around anymore. You probably weren’t raised by her at all, actually.”

His thumb presses against your ragged silk ribbon, toying with the red fabric.

“Must’ve been dumped by some mortal who got sick of taking care of you, huh? Bastards.”

You chitter desperately for his help, hoping that this one might understand even a word you say. But he only gives you a pitying smile, untying the ribbon from your tail and letting it flutter slowly to the ground.

“You never even learned to speak, furball? They must’ve taken you young. Humans always do. Keep you for a few years and dress you up like babies, then throw you out once you’re not cute enough for them anymore.”

Your vocalizations grow more desperate and wild, becoming outright hysterical.

“I know, I know. Hungry, right? Never learned to forage for yourself, or pick for bugs. C’mon, let’s find something to eat- bet I can scrounge us up some peaches, at least. After all…”

Macaque pulls free his tattered scarf, then holds one end of it against your stomach. You can’t so much as chitter before he wraps you head to toe, swaddling your fluffy form tightly. It’s warm, at least, if a bit restrictive.

“Shouldn’t we outcasts stick together?”

And off he goes into the night, far from home and far from safety.

It’s not quite freedom, but you’ll take it.

[jaybug-jabbers]

Just some notes I am making for myself!!

Isopod Shopping List:

✔️ Glass aquarium/vivarium (ensure lid has fine mesh to keep out pests; a lid that's partially glass will make it easier to maintain humidity)

✔️ Humidity gauge/thermometer (50-60%, 70-85 degrees F)

✔️ Bark 'hides' and (safe) decorative pieces; cork bark is common

✔️ Squirt bottle for misting

✔️ Substrate (common ones: topsoil, coco fiber, coco chips, sand, charcoal, small pieces of bark/wood, sphagnum moss; the moss helps retain moisture and thus is handy but don't use too much; ensure the soil used has no fertilizer beads or other 'extras' in it):

✔️ Topsoil/Potting Soil

✔️ Worm castings

✔️ Fir Bark Chips

✔️ Charcoal

✔️ Sphagnum Moss

✔️ Dead leaves (primary food source; some people boil or bake them to sterilize but others don't; a variety of leaf types will work; some commonly used ones include maple, oak, birch, elm, cottonwood, etc; thinner leaves and older, more 'rotten' leaves are tastiest to them, but be sure to inspect for mold or hitchhikers; provide plenty of leaves in a layer over the whole tank)

Additional dead organic matter can include seed pods such as magnolia pods, lichen, or other goodies

✔️ Nutrient-rich foods (secondary food source; a variety of things can be used including fish flakes, dried bloodworms, dried shrimp, small pieces of produce scraps, specialized products such as Repashy Morning Wood and Repashy Bug Burger, etc) to be provided in very small amounts that can be eaten quickly and any excess removed before it molds; experiment to see how long it takes for them to consume it and what they prefer to eat

✔️ Cuttlebone (broken up) may be provided if desired for extra calcium

Springtails may be added to help control mold and pests

Isopod Care Notes:

Some keepers have a 'damp' side and a 'drier' side to allow the isopods to regulate their own preferences; sphagnum moss works good for the damp side, and situate a vent by the dry side if possible

Heat should not be needed unless your room is especially cool

Most keepers prefer deep substrate for the isopods to burrow, but some prefer shallower substrate so they can keep track of their stock better (they use a compacted substrate layer and place a looser, shallower burrowing layer on top)

Substrate does not need to be changed often but every few months is a good idea to refresh its nutrients and remove excess frass & ammonia buildup

Exact environmental preferences will depend on the species of isopod; while their needs are often very similar it's important to always double-check about your exact species

Isopods will reproduce readily (females carry the eggs in their bodies and will give 'birth' to live isopods) and the little babbies (mancae) start off very teeny so be careful when you're cleaning

Invert keepers have bred a TON of varieties of isopods, at differing 'difficulty' and price levels; make sure you are purchasing isopods that have been bred in captivity and not poached from the wild; and obviously never release pets into the wild

Some Beginner Isopods & Pretty Color Morphs:

Armadillidium nasatum (Nosy Pillbug): Peach, Orange, White Out/Pearl

Armadillidium vulgare (Roly-Poly): Orange Vigor, St. Lucia, Magic Potion

Porcellio scaber (Rough Woodlouse): Dalmation, Orange Koi, Lava

Porcellio laevis (Swift Woodlouse): Dairy Cow

Cubaris murina (Little Sea Isopod): Anemone, Glacier

Questions for Sellers:

Opinions on enclosures, especially with regards to maintaining proper moisture and airflow

Opinions on where to safely collect leaf litter (esp this time of year), boiling to sterilize (potential nutrition loss)

Species

Where do you get your isopods?

[meowk9]

Discover the Fascinating World of Scandinavian Dog Breeds

Discover the Fascinating World of Scandinavian Dog Breeds" is an intriguing and engaging title that promises to introduce readers to the diverse and interesting breeds of dogs that hail from the Scandinavian region. From the strong and loyal Swedish Vallhund to the energetic and playful Norwegian Lundehund, this article will take you on a journey through the fascinating world of Scandinavian dog breeds. Learn about their unique histories, physical characteristics, and temperaments, and discover why these breeds make such great pets and working dogs. Whether you're a dog lover or simply interested in learning more about these incredible animals, this article is sure to captivate and inform you with its in-depth exploration of the world of Scandinavian dog breeds.

Introduction

Scandinavian dog breeds have been gaining in popularity in recent years, and for good reason. These dogs have unique physical and personality traits that make them stand out from other breeds. In this article, Meowk9 will explore the world of Scandinavian dog breeds, including their characteristics, history, and care needs. Whether you're considering adding one of these breeds to your family or you're simply curious about them, Meowk9 have got you covered.

The Characteristics of Scandinavian Dog Breeds

Scandinavian dog breeds are known for their hardiness, intelligence, and independence. These dogs were bred to work in harsh climates and difficult terrains, which has led to the development of certain physical and personality traits. Physical Characteristics Most Scandinavian dog breeds have thick, double-layered coats that keep them warm in cold weather. They also tend to have pointy ears and curled tails. These physical traits have evolved over time to help these dogs survive in the harsh Nordic climate. Temperament and Personality Scandinavian dogs are typically independent and self-reliant. They are often described as being "aloof" or "reserved" with strangers, but they are deeply loyal to their families. These dogs are also known for being intelligent and curious, which can sometimes lead to mischief if they're not given enough mental stimulation. Trainability and Intelligence Scandinavian dog breeds are highly intelligent and trainable, but they can also be stubborn. They were bred to work independently, which means that they may not always follow commands blindly. However, with consistent training and positive reinforcement, these dogs can excel in obedience and agility competitions.

The Most Popular Scandinavian Dog Breeds

There are several different breeds of Scandinavian dogs, each with its unique characteristics and history. Here are some of the most popular ones: Norwegian Elkhound The Norwegian Elkhound is a large, spitz-type dog that was originally bred to hunt moose and other large game. These dogs are highly independent and energetic, which means they need plenty of exercise and mental stimulation. They are also known for being loyal and protective of their families.

Breed Overview: - GROUP: Hound (AKC) - HEIGHT: Around 20 inches - WEIGHT: 48 to 55 pounds - COAT AND COLOR: Thick, smooth double coat in shades of silver - LIFE EXPECTANCY: 12 to 15 years Swedish Vallhund The Swedish Vallhund is a small, spitz-type dog that was originally bred to herd cattle. These dogs are highly intelligent and trainable, and they make great family pets. They are also known for being affectionate and playful with children.

Breed Overview: - GROUP: Herding (AKC) - HEIGHT: 12 to 14 inches - WEIGHT: 20 to 35 pounds - COAT AND COLOR: Dense coat in gray and red - LIFE EXPECTANCY: 12 to 15 years Finnish Spitz The Finnish Spitz is a medium-sized dog that was originally bred to hunt small game. These dogs are highly energetic and require plenty of exercise and mental stimulation. They are also known for being loyal and affectionate with their families.

Breed Overview: - GROUP: Non-Sporting (AKC) - HEIGHT: 15.5 to 20 inches - WEIGHT: 20 to 32 pounds - COAT AND COLOR: Medium-length dense double coat that comes in shades of red - LIFE EXPECTANCY: 12 to 14 years Icelandic Sheepdog The Icelandic Sheepdog is a small, spitz-type dog that was originally bred to herd sheep. These dogs are highly intelligent and energetic, and they require plenty of exercise and playtime to stay happy and healthy. They are also known for being affectionate and loyal with their families.

Breed Overview: - GROUP: Herding (AKC) - HEIGHT: 16 to 18 inches - WEIGHT: 25 to 30 pounds - COAT AND COLOR: Long or short double coat that's thick and weatherproof; typical colors are tan, brown, gray, and black; white markings always accompany the main color - LIFE EXPECTANCY: 12 to 14 years Finnish Lapphund The Finnish Lapphund has a strong herding instinct and was originally bred to herd reindeer. They are intelligent and independent, but also have a strong desire to please their owner. These qualities make them well-suited to herding and working as a farm dog.

Breed Overview: - GROUP: Herding (AKC) - HEIGHT: 16 to 21 inches - WEIGHT: 30 to 50 pounds - COAT AND COLOR: Thick, harsh double coat in a variety of colors - LIFE EXPECTANCY: 12 to 15 years

Caring for Your Scandinavian Dog

Scandinavian dogs have specific care needs that should be addressed to keep them happy and healthy. Here are some important aspects of caring for your Scandinavian dog: Exercise and Playtime Scandinavian dogs are highly energetic and require plenty of exercise and playtime to stay healthy and happy. They enjoy outdoor activities such as hiking, running, and playing fetch. Without adequate exercise, these dogs may become bored and destructive. Grooming Most Scandinavian dogs have thick, double-layered coats that require regular grooming to keep them healthy and clean. Brushing your dog's coat regularly will help prevent mats and tangles, and it will also distribute natural oils throughout the coat. These dogs also shed heavily twice a year, so be prepared for extra grooming during those times. Nutrition A healthy diet is important for all dogs, but it's especially crucial for Scandinavian breeds. These dogs are prone to certain health issues, such as hip dysplasia and obesity, which can be exacerbated by poor nutrition. Feeding your dog a high-quality, balanced diet that meets their specific needs is essential for their overall health and wellbeing. Health Concerns Scandinavian dogs are generally healthy and hardy, but like all breeds, they are prone to certain health issues. Some common health concerns for these breeds include hip dysplasia, eye problems, and obesity. Regular veterinary checkups and preventative care can help keep your dog healthy and catch any health issues early on.

The Benefits of Owning a Scandinavian Dog

Owning a Scandinavian dog can bring many benefits to your life. Here are some of the most notable benefits: Loyal Companionship Scandinavian dogs are deeply loyal to their families and make great companions. They are affectionate and loving, and they form strong bonds with their owners. These dogs will protect their families and provide a sense of security. Guarding Abilities Many Scandinavian dogs were originally bred as guard dogs, and they still have strong guarding instincts today. These dogs will protect their homes and families from intruders, making them excellent watchdogs. Outdoor Adventure Buddies Scandinavian dogs love the great outdoors, and they make great adventure buddies. They enjoy hiking, camping, and other outdoor activities, and they will happily accompany you on your adventures.

Conclusion

Scandinavian dog breeds are unique and fascinating, with a rich history and specific care needs. Whether you're considering adding one of these breeds to your family or you're simply curious about them, we hope this article has provided you with valuable information. With their intelligence, loyalty, and hardiness, Scandinavian dogs make great companions for those who are up for the challenge.

FAQs:

Are Scandinavian dogs good with children? Yes, many Scandinavian dogs are great with children. However, it's important to supervise interactions between children and dogs to prevent any accidents or injuries. Are Scandinavian dogs good for apartment living? It depends on the individual dog and their exercise needs. Many Scandinavian dogs are highly energetic and require plenty of exercise and playtime, so they may not be suitable for apartment living. Do Scandinavian dogs have any specific health concerns? Yes, like all breeds, Scandinavian dogs are prone to certain health issues, such as hip dysplasia and eye problems. Regular veterinary checkups and preventative care can help catch any health issues early on. Do Scandinavian dogs shed a lot? Yes, many Scandinavian dogs have thick, double-layered coats and shed heavily twice a year. Regular grooming and brushing can help manage shedding. Are Scandinavian dogs easy to train? Many Scandinavian dogs are highly intelligent and trainable, but each dog is unique and may have different training needs. Consistent, positive reinforcement training can help ensure success with any breed of dog.   Read the full article

[crevicedwelling]

Which arachnids would you recommend to a beginner? Seeing your adorable amblypygids makes me wonder if I should get one someday

can’t go wrong with a nice plain tarantula like Aphonopelma or Tliltocatl spp. as a first arachnid pet. only get captive bred tarantulas. this may mean paying more and having to raise a baby spider, but there are essentially no reasons to buy wild caught tarantulas. be aware tarantulas, especially when raised from a spiderling, live longer than many mammal pets: 10-30 years, depending on species and sex. make sure you’re able to handle that responsibility!

a large Phidippus jumping spider is a much shorter-lived pet (1 to rarely 2 years) and they’re more “interactive” and “fun” as diurnal, visual predators. also smaller and easier to house than some tarantulas. (unlike almost everyone else, I find jumpers a bit dull to keep, which is practically heresy haha)

some of the large black scorpions (Heterometrus, Pandinus) are also fairly undemanding and mostly harmless. not always easy to find CB young though and overcollection is a threat to wild populations.

solifuges = no.

amblys and vinegaroons are somewhat more particular in their care, so it helps to have experience, but altogether are generally not too difficult to keep for a careful beginner. I still think these taxa are too often wild caught than captive bred, though. species like Damon medius are often in such poor condition as wild caught imports that they refuse food and starve to death. some people (like me!) are working on captive breeding various species, but it’s not prevalent enough that you’d be likely to find CB whips of either type.

[prof-peach]

Hey Prof, I need your advice.

My sister recently decided she didn't wanted her bulbasaur anymore (she got him on a whim about a month ago) and gave him to me, he is quite violent and tends to attack when I try to get close to him.

Now, that wouldn't be a huge problem, but my Purrloin has gotten hurt trying to befriend him, she's quite outgoing and never really liked fighting (we enjoy contests so she knows a few more flashy attacks), so she couldn't even defend herself properly.

I don't want to give up on him and my local rescue center is filled with Bunearies (you know, after Easter kids don't want their Bunny anymore) so they can't take him in right now, any advice in how I can go about this situation?

Sounds to me like you have a tricky little dude on your hands. So you're not battle orientated which will make this harder, Bulbasaur in the wild are actually quite combat minded to defend their families and territory, and a lot of their herds consist of strict hierarchy based on power and skill, often led by older, fully evolved members of their group. 

Before you take any actions to befriend them, its worth noting that any pokemon who comes into your care showing aggression is usually doing so for one or two reasons that are pretty universal for any species. Fear being the main issue with pokemon who have been ditched, if a pokemon is unwell, if it feels exposed, if it is unsure of you or your home, your partners, it may lash out because it is afraid. Even what looks like pure anger can stem from a fear. Of course some individuals are just full of rage, its not unheard of, but for the most part it comes from somewhere else. 

For a moment, take the time to put yourself in this pokemons shoes. It was chosen, with hopes and ambitions of its own, by your sister, a stranger to them, and for whatever reason they were cast aside. This reason may be unclear to the pokemon, it may be unfair, unkind, or even without malice just out of pure indifference. No matter the reason, this pokemon has been left behind by a trainer it at one point probably wanted to try to get along with. I don’t know what your sister may or may not have done, or provided for the bulbasaur, but it will help you understand how its feeling, if you were to ask her about their relationship prior to you receiving the pokemon. If it has always been aggressive and angry, i’d seriously consider talking to it about release, not rehome. 

We humans have a preconceived notion that pokemon are pets and things to keep with us. This may be true for some sure, but not every pokemon wishes to be a captive to a human, they may want more for themselves, and wish for a free life with their own kind. We cannot put our wants and desires above that of the pokemons, so you two need to have a talk, at a respectful distance for safeties sake, to see what the Bulbasaur feels they may want. These are herd pokemon, born and bred to be with their own kind, if not a larger group, if its lonely, if it wants to go home, to start a family, or simply to not be held in a ball as some creature to be owned, then you as its current carer must give it what you can. You can always find another pokemon who wants to be your partner, but you cannot give back lost years to a pokemon who has lived a life its unhappy with. Treat them with respect, and be open and honest. At the end of the day we have a chance to help pokemon, and forcing what we want onto them is a hinderance, and will lead to them feeling unsatisfied and bitter in the long run. 

Some pokemon lash out due to the process of being handed off to someone else, trust is earnt, not always just simply given to whoever holds the pokeball. Remember this as you move forward, and try to keep your other pokemon away from them, Bulbasaur are territorial species, and have to accept pokemon into their families before simply allowing them to come and go freely into their personal space. Despite their grouchy natures at times they usually do have a morally positive compass, and defend with ferocity when they love something. Perhaps in you showing genuine concern for their welfare and future, offering them not what you want, but instead what they want, they may give you a chance to get closer, but take baby steps, and try to be their friend above all else. I bet they're feeling pretty lonely right now. 

Its worth sharing interests with the pokemon, talk about contests, see if they're interested, some pokemon have a predisposition for this, others have no interest and prefer more battle based lives, or even peaceful non-competitive existences. no amount of pressure will change a pokemon’s nature, and some just aren't cut out for the fine art of showmanship that contests require. You can however use powerful attacks in showy ways, so theres always hope that they could enjoy it, if you can work with them to their strengths. 

If possible, work to getting them outdoors, cooping grass types up can lead to stroppy, testing personalities, many thrive in the outdoors, he may need some serious outside time to compensate for the lack of exercise and natural stimulation they may have not been getting prior to your ownership. There are plenty of areas in public that are much like tennis courts, areas of space you can book for a set amount of time too exercise difficult pokemon, these locations are often secure facilities, both outdoors and indoors, to suit a range of species. find one that has outdoor facilities and book a few hours per week to go there, increasing the time whenever possible. This exercise and time with you may help to find common ground, and topics that you and the bulbasaur can bond over. This can be anything from battles, to sun bathing, playing sports, games, swimming, running or digging, and everything in between. Bulbasaur naturally are great foragers and tend to like to snaffle about in long grass and shrubland, hiding treats like berry slices in a secure environment is good enrichment and can tire the pokemon out. a tired pokemon is usually a little less aggressive, having lower energy levels and less want to expend attacks. this process also associated you with something fun, and your scent will be on the treats too, so they'll know you were the one to provide this activity for them.   

I’d also take plenty of time to observe the bulbasaur, as your sister got them on a whim, they probably had no prior knowledge of the species, or how to correctly care for them. In a month, a health complaint could have begun to show, so observe their colouration, feet, walking gait, sleeping patterns, feeding habits, and general behaviour. Excess scratching, heavy breathing, or unusual shaking or moving can suggest a health condition is starting to take form. Most can be helped if caught early, but some illnesses give the pokemon discomfort, and can lead to snappy tempers and irritability. It could be that this individual is in pain, or finding life difficult due to its health, which can cause a lot of hostility as i’m sure anyone would agree. It can suck to be sick!

This species can be won over if you can prove you have a skill of worth to them. This is the case with a lot of pokemon, having respect for something they cannot do, and learning that they need things from you can lead to them at least tolerating us humans. Its a foot in the door. A trick i like t use with particularly difficult bulbasaur is to give them their fav food, whatever it is, then put it in a clear container the pokemon cannot open. They have no thumbs, and their vines though dexterous, aren't able to open every kind of container. The pokemon will want whats inside, and be unable to access it. they will eventually give up out of frustration. this is where you come in. enter the space, don’t let your pokemon approach as this can be threatening, and open the container. leave it on the floor open, making sure they've watched you get the thing open. They can then approach and enjoy their fav food, all thanks to you and those wondrous thumbs you have. repeating this process yields good results, and starts a mutual relationship of tolerance and acceptance between you and a bulbasaur. Most will accept they want the food more than they want you gone, and you provide something they can’t get to. whatever you do, don’t let them see that you were the one to lock the food up in the container. Get a friend to do it, or do it in the room, and leave it in place on the floor, before allowing the bulbasaur to enter and investigate the item. If they see you're the one doing it, the trick is foiled, and your back to square one. Eventually this does tend to lead to the pokemon becoming less stressed with you around them, and eventually it leads to trust, and even friendship. This trick is good to use to get them use to you, once they're ok with you being around them because of your use to them, they may start to take food from you directly, engage in play, or even just sit and tolerate company for short periods of time. Do not expect this to be quick, but it does usually do the trick. 

Regardless, i do have concern that the pokemon may want to be with its own, should you discuss this and find they're not interested in being housebound and a pet, feel free to send them our way, we had exactly this situation in mind when setting up the islands facilities, and have extensive locations designed with grass pokemosn needs at the forefront. Theres a small herd of about 12 bulbasaur evolutions that live north of our labs, no people see them, they are happy as a unit, and are left alone to go about their lives, with the only interactions between humans being us giving them their yearly health check, or should we spot them with an issue, we may intervene. They live away from others and pretty much free, in a poacher safe environment. Its not ideal, we like to keep pokemon in areas they come from, with people who love them, and you show great concern for the pokemon so it would be a shame to have to let them go, BUT sometimes thats just life, and theres nothing to be done about it other than accepting that the pokemons wants come first. They may just be mistrusting so try everything else first, and see how you go. hopefully you’ll yield some results from this all. Good luck out there trainer. 

[bufomancer]

Comparing Pacman Frogs, Tomato Frogs, and Chubby Frogs

Pacman frogs, tomato frogs, and chubby frogs are perhaps the three most common terrestrial frogs in captivity. At just about any pet store or reptile expo you’re bound to find at least one of these delightful little fellows. While they’re relatively similar to each other, they’re not identical, and their ideal care in captivity will look somewhat different. Today we’ll be going through some of the main points regarding their care and comparing and contrasting the three species!

This is NOT a care guide, just a brief overview of some of the similarities and differences between these frogs and how that will influence their optimal care as pets. It is critical to do in depth research prior to acquiring your new pet. Additionally, “pacman frog” can refer to any of 8 different species in the genus Ceratophrys as well as any hybrids thereof. In this article we will only be talking about the one most common in captivity, Ceratophrys cranwelli. While their congeners share many similarities, their care is not identical and they should not be treated as interchangeable.

Lastly, please do not share the above graphic without the included written text here, and please attribute myself as the author, as well as the photographers of the frog images.

With that out of the way, let’s get into the details.

Cranwell’s Pacman Frog (Ceratophrys cranwelli)

Pacman frogs are native to the Gran Chaco region of South America, a hot, semi-arid expanse of land containing forests, wetlands, and savannas. During periods of extreme temperature or dryness, pacman frogs burrow into the soil and encase themselves in a thick protective layer of skin until conditions are more suitable. During the day they are often found partially buried with their heads exposed. They are ambush hunters and will find a place where they can both find prey and hide from predators. Insects will walk right past the motionless frogs, unaware that they are being watched- until they strike. They are nocturnal and primarily active at night. During this time they may move to find water, or a better place to settle in the morning. When it is breeding season they gather in temporary pools of water to seek out mates and lay eggs.

Pacman frogs are generalists, eating anything they can get their huge mouths on. Invertebrates, other amphibians, reptiles, and small rodents are most common but even crabs have been found on occasion in the stomach or gut of a wild specimen. They are solitary and cannibalistic, and must be kept singly in terraria. Otherwise, you’ll quickly end up with just one pacman frog anyways, especially if there is a notable size difference. Female pacman frogs have no qualms about attacking males whom they do not want to mate with, though this species is not difficult to breed in captivity with the right seasonal cycling and a little effort. Their powerful bites can draw blood, so be careful during feeding and handling.

The ideal terrarium for a pacman frog has a deep layer of substrate for burrowing into, mixed to mimic the sandy soils of their native habitat. A large water dish is very important, large enough for your frog to soak its entire body in. While you want a few plants (live or fake), they do not require a thick jungle. It is good to provide a hide or two for them, but typically they will burrow into the soil with their heads sticking out instead. A halogen bulb is best for daytime heat; they typically require no additional heating at night. It is also key to provide UVB in the Ferguson Zone 1 range. Many issues with frogs burrowing constantly are resolved when proper lighting is provided, encouraging their natural cryptic basking behaviors. Be sure that there is room for your frog to choose between full exposure, partial exposure, and zero exposure to the lights.

A male pacman frog grows to roughly 3-3.5 inches, whereas a female can grow to 5-6. Males may be kept in an enclosure with a minimum of 360 square inches of floorspace, such as a 20 gallon long terrarium. Females should be kept in an enclosure with a minimum of 650 square inches of floorspace, such as a 40 gallon breeder terrarium. Height is not very important except to provide a deep substrate and safe distance from lights. Your frog may use minor climbing opportunities such as rocks, the tops of hides, and broad branches, but they’re certainly not tree frogs.

Pacman frogs can live 10-15 years in captivity.

Tomato Frog (Dyscophus guineti)

Tomato frogs are endemic to Madagascar, in swamps and moist forests. Their red, orange, yellow, and brown coloration blends in with fallen leaves. Captive bred specimens are generally selected for the boldest reds and oranges, like a ripe tomato. Tomato frogs breed during the long rainy season and lay their eggs in pools of water. At night they roam the forest floor hunting invertebrates, while during the day they hide in the leaf litter. They are often found in soggy areas of land near slow moving bodies of water.

Typically, tomato frogs, male or female, max out at 3.5 inches though specimens just over 4 inches are not unheard of. Generally, a terrarium with 360 square inches of floor space is suitable for a single tomato frog, but an individual on the large end of the spectrum would benefit from an upgrade. Of course, you can go as big as you like for your frog no matter their size!

While they are not considered to be truly social, they lack the same bloodthirsty instinct as pacman frogs and can sometimes be successfully maintained in breeding pairs or groups. Small tomato frogs may become prey for a larger one, but they are not as cannibalistic as pacmans. Cohabitation in captivity requires a larger than minimum enclosure and special care to prevent competition over resources, such as fighting for the prime basking spot or to soak in the water dish. This can be solved by providing multiple larger water dishes, and a large enough basking zone for all individuals to share without being crowded on top of each other.

The ideal terrarium for a single tomato frog includes ample substrate to burrow into, and a layer of leaf litter on top. You may find they snuggle into the leaf litter rather than actually burrowing all the way into the soil layer. They will appreciate plenty of vegetation to hide beneath, and a large water dish for soaking into. A drainage layer is recommended to prevent buildup of harmful bacteria from the damp conditions tomato frogs prefer. Ensure that parts of the terrarium remain drier, rather than the whole setup being waterlogged. A halogen bulb is ideal for daytime heat, in most homes supplemental nighttime heat is unnecessary. Include access to UVB in the Ferguson Zone 1 range and ensure they have the room to choose between full exposure, partial exposure, and no exposure to the lights. Tomato frogs may not use hides, but it is good to provide one or two anyways. Usually they are right at home nestled amongst the leaf litter and various foliage in the terrarium. They are a little more agile than pacman frogs and may use minor climbing activities, but they are also primarily terrestrial.

Tomato frogs live on average 5-10 years in captivity.

Chubby Frog (Kaloula pulchra)

Chubby frogs are native to the forests and rice fields of mainland Southeast Asia. Despite their wide range and prevalence in the pet trade, their wild behavior is minimally studied though there is still some interesting information to be found on them. Multiple papers have recorded chubby frogs and their congener, Kaloula taprobanica, several meters up in trees. This suggests that they may potentially be best described as semi arboreal rather than solely terrestrial. While all species, no matter how terrestrial, are capable of climbing here and there, scaling trees is a little different from clambering over hills, logs, and other obstacles in your path.

In any case, those papers should be taken as evidence that chubby frogs in captivity should be provided with climbing activities, which is why a 29 gallon terrarium is recommended as the minimum enclosure size for a single chubby. It has the same base dimensions as a 20 long, but an extra 6 inches of height. A 24x18x24 inch terrarium would be even better. Chubby frogs are quite small, typically getting no larger than 3 inches.

They are the most placid of the three species, with many keepers maintaining them in pairs and groups without issue. Their small mouths make it difficult for them to cannibalize each other, though care should still be taken to prevent stress from competition over resources. Their diet primarily consists of ants and similarly sized prey, though in captivity they can take suitably sized crickets, roaches, and small worms.

The ideal terrarium for a chubby frog includes deep soil with a layer of leaf litter. They should have plenty of foliage for hiding in, though live plants should be hardy enough to withstand a squashing from a small but chunky frog. Broad branches can create climbing opportunities, which are sure to be appreciated- just be aware as primarily nocturnal frogs you may not see them being used! A halogen bulb is ideal for daytime heat and typically no supplemental heating is needed at night. UVB should be provided in the Ferguson Zone 1 range and as always your frog should be able to choose between full exposure, partial exposure, and no exposure. A large enough water dish for soaking in is required.

Chubby frogs live on average 5-10 years in captivity.

Conclusion

Pacman frogs, tomato frogs, and chubby frogs share a lot of similarities- they are Ferguson Zone 1 animals, they are insectivores, they are primarily terrestrial and nocturnal- but they are not identical. They are different sizes, live in different habitats, and use their environment differently. Their ideal setups are a little bit different. All three of these frogs make great pets, and are a delight to care for and observe. Knowing what makes them similar and what makes them different is key to figuring out which you would most like to own. Maybe you even want one of each!

The information above is, once again, merely an overview and not a replacement for in depth research on their care. This information has been compiled from a variety of sources such as websites containing habitat information, scientific papers about these species, images of the frogs and their habitats in the wild, personal experience with caring for these frogs, discussion with keepers and breeders, discussion with those living in the native ranges of these frogs, and more. Below are a few resources to get you started with learning more in depth about the care of these frogs, but by no means an exhaustive list.

If you have any questions, please ask.

Pacman Frog Resources

Image used in graphic:  https://www.flickr.com/photos/adrian-afonso/1664147176

iNaturalist photos: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/22844-Ceratophrys-cranwelli/browse_photos

Vera Candioti, María Florencia. "Morphology and feeding in tadpoles of Ceratophrys cranwelli (Anura: Leptodactylidae)." Acta Zoologica 86.1 (2005): 1-11.

Grayson, Kristine L., et al. "Effects of prey type on specific dynamic action, growth, and mass conversion efficiencies in the horned frog, Ceratophrys cranwelli." Comparative Biochemistry and Physiology Part A: Molecular & Integrative Physiology 141.3 (2005): 298-304.

Souza, Paulo Robson, et al. "A voracious female during the courtship of Ceratophrys cranwelli (Anura: Ceratophryidae) in the Brazilian Chaco." (2014).

Schalk, Christopher M., et al. "On the diet of the frogs of the Ceratophryidae: synopsis and new contributions." South American Journal of Herpetology 9.2 (2014): 90-105.

Miller, Mark D.H. , Webb, Kempton E. and Martin, Gene E.. "Gran Chaco". Encyclopedia Britannica, 20 Feb. 2015, https://www.britannica.com/place/Gran-Chaco. Accessed 15 August 2021.

Tomato Frog Resources

Image used in graphic is my own, © Aster Laurel Montor

iNaturalist photos: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/25152-Dyscophus/browse_photos

Monroy, Jenna A., and Kiisa C. Nishikawa. "Prey location, biomechanical constraints, and motor program choice during prey capture in the tomato frog, Dyscophus guineti." Journal of Comparative Physiology A 195.9 (2009): 843-852.

Brenes‐Soto, Andrea, and Ellen S. Dierenfeld. "Effect of dietary carotenoids on vitamin A status and skin pigmentation in false tomato frogs (Dyscophus guineti)." Zoo biology 33.6 (2014): 544-552.

Segev, Ori, et al. "Reproductive phenology of the tomato frog, Dyscophus antongili, in an urban pond of Madagascar's east coast." Acta Herpetologica 7.2 (2012): 331-340.

Andreone, Franco, Vincenzo Mercurio, and Fabio Mattioli. "Between environmental degradation and international pet trade: conservation strategies for the threatened amphibians of Madagascar." Natura 95.2 (2006): 81-96.

Chubby Frog Resources

Image used in graphic: https://www.flickr.com/photos/rushen/20253335546

iNaturalist photos: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/326303-Kaloula-pulchra/browse_photos

Vyas, Raju, and B. M. Parasharya. "Painted Frog (Kaloula pulchra) from Anand and Surat, Gujarat, India." Zoos’ Print Journal 19.4 (2004): 1444.

Kanamadi, Ravishankar D., Grish G. Kadadevaru, and Hans Schneider. "Advertisement call and breeding period of the frog, Kaloula pulchra (Microhylidae)." Herpetological Review 33.1 (2002): 19.

Major, Tom, et al. "Observations of Arboreality in a Burrowing Frog, the Banded Bullfrog, Kaloula pulchra (Amphibia: Anura: Microhylidae)." Current herpetology 36.2 (2017): 148-152.

Soud, Rakesh, et al. "Defensive and burrowing behaviour of Kaloula assamensis Das et al., 2004 and Kaloula pulchra Gray, 1831 (Microhylidae)." frog leg 18 (2012): 48-50.

Bhattacharjee, Partha Pratim, et al. "Sighting of Asian Painted Frog (Kaloula pulchra) from West Bhubanban (near Agartala city), West Tripura district, Tripura." (2011): 18-19.

Lalremsanga, H. T., Saipari Sailo, and R. N. K. Hooroo. "External morphology, oral structure and feeding behaviour of Kaloula pulchra tadpoles Gray, 1831 (Amphibia: Anura: Microhylidae)." Science and Technology Journal 5 (2017): 97-103.

Ganesh, S. R. "Arboreal behaviour in the Indian Painted Frog Kaloula taprobanica parker, 1934." Herpetotropicos 8.1-2 (2012): 67-70.

[sor-vette]

two, down!! (index/description)

☜ one, strike!!

☞ three, an all-out fight club!!

It was the middle of February. The month of perpetual grey and rain. It tapped against the small cubic window of your bedroom as you laid in bed reading the text.

Erik: "Meeting, you and me. Main building. Now! Wear something without any blood on it. 😘"

The phone falls out of your hands and smacks you in the middle of the nose.

"Ow."

***

You already see Erik in the distance. A bright red shirt flowing around him like a drape in the frequent bursts of wind. Across the river, he looks like a will-o'-the-wisp and you can't help but be increasingly apprehensive about what has he planned.

You get off the bus in the middle of the bridge, stop and glare at the circular high rise. Legally known as Bighit - an independent advisory firm for various claims, to the large variety of your clientele it was BH - vigilante made business. Briefly put a vast clockface with thousands of cogs spinning both on the own and tandem with others. It looked and sounded and you knew it to be an imposing organization. Nevertheless, you entertained the idea of how would this company would fall and could it be possible to burn down all the spider webs it has formed in the now 22 years of its existence.

"Good morning!" Erik beams widely, trembling in the wind. His pirate shirt not doing anything to help the situation. In his hands, there is a thick brown folder. The sight of it begins a gnawing motion in the stomach.

"What are you doing?" you ask suspiciously, studying his face for any giveaway. Which of course there were a lot. He was still young both in the field and age. The little runt was mostly brazen, often impolite and careless. But now, now, he was nervous. Maybe it wasn't even the weather that had him shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, I'm taking my enrollment review today. In 20 minutes to be precise."

What was gnawing had turned into a stone that travelled up, ignoring the gravity, and settled deep in your chest pressing down and creating a hole. A horrible numb feeling that you'd hoped you wouldn't feel again. And again. And again. And now once more.

"Oh."

You take a moment to force your voice to remain unfazed but even to your own ears, it sounds too hoarse and slow.

"Don't you need my referral?"

"I asked Olga." Yes. Olga. That's why you didn't know.

"So let's go up?" if Erik had a tail it would wag at lighting speed. He is not just nervous but positively jittery. You had seen him this happy...never. Yeah, this was the first time. When he would officially enrol in another department, at best giving you a clap on the back for all the trouble caused and moved on. In a week he would give you a distant wave, in a month maybe a nod if you passed by in a hallway, in half a year it'll be like you never even existed.

You nod quietly entering the glass doors. BH was a massive, subtly hidden maze, much like the overall organization. By the schematics and the layout, no one would give a second thought that it would be more than just an ordinary office firm. But of course, what they didn't know and what was a closely guarded secret were the literal hundreds of small alcoves and passes hidden within the walls. Meant for in case of a sudden police raid. Not to mention the literal escape tunnel that stretched underneath the river you just passed. No one knew exactly how it looked like or how it was even built. Some said it was an abandoned underground transit system from WW2, others said that it was built in the early years of the BH establishment having cost literal billions. But no one knew the truth. Even Namjoon had shrugged when you asked him, long ago already.

In silence, you both take the escalator upwards. To the 25th floor, a.k.a. the 7th department - the literal heads of the system. The building usually had hundreds of people running from one place to another but even so, this was a large commotion for an event this small.

In the doorways there stands a tall woman and you nearly bite your tongue off at the sight of her ramrod back.

"Petsch." You growl and Erik beside you throws a surprised glance.

She turns around almost immediately. As if hearing you or just sensing your presence like the ill-bred Cerberus that she was.

"Hello, .̴̭͙̪̻̈́.̸̮̟̳̐͆͘͠.̶͚̉͛.̸̺̞̉͐̈́̐͋.̶̟̻̺̽͛̒̚.̷̗̱̃.̶̮͚̼̾͜͜.̷͉̋̈́̐̔͝.̵͖͛̓͆.̷̼̲̥̙͆̊̊͝͝.̸̢͕̔.̸̜̜̲͈̅͜͠.̵̱̤̆̑͘.̸͖̰̣͈̾̊̈́́́ " Her glee is almost maniacal as she power walks towards your little group.

"Deputy Petsch. How wonderful to grace our Earthly realm with your presence. I did wonder why it looked like the skies were weeping."

"It's Chief of Staff now," she corrects getting even closer, "to no one's surprise I've been promoted while you've been demoted."

"Yes, I can see the stress of the new position. Or is that just your face?"

In the corner of your eye, you can see Erik standing completely still, his head darting from one speaker to another bemused.

"As the Chief of Staff, I'm here to evaluate your...pet." Erik gives a silent wave and Rosaline narrows her eyes, most likely not knowing what to make of him.

"What happened to Michael?" Petsch scoffs at your question.

"He retired to live with his family so much so for living a dignified life." You straighten stubbornly at the newly given information. Erik's hands are still lightly trembling, along with the file in his hand.

"Interesting. I will attempt corporation." You push out through gritted teeth but immediately get one of Rosaline's bony vulture fingers thrust in your face.

"Don't even try to sweet talk me!"

In return, you snap your fingers near her outstretched hand. A gesture you would normally never do but it was Rosaline. Anything but an abnormal reaction could ward off this lietonis off your neck. (a/n)

"I tried to be peaceful. Well then. Let's. Begin." She huffs and puffs and then stalks over to the lecture hall, her tight blonde ponytail swinging like the world's most obnoxious metronome.

Erik stands silently for a few short moments before -

"The fuck was that about?" You hide your face in the palm of your hand. If Rosaline was here for the panel review then this little fucker had no idea what was coming.

"Rosaline and I have what you would call an uncivil work relationship."

"A rivalry?"

"No, a rivalry with another woman would be inherently attractive. Rosaline just...sucks the lifeforce out of me like a goddamn Dementor." Erik chuckles at the sight of your displeasure but a quiet bell coming from within the lecture hall stills him again.

"Please all attendees take your seat! We're about to start soon!" A faceless voice calls over the crowd and the unpleasant feeling that Petsch managed to eradicate away for a moment returns worse than ever. Your own hands begin to mutely tremble. Erik looks close to passing out.

"You're going to be fine." You say gently bumping into him, "you're my trainee after all."

***

Oh, he's going to be not fine at all.

For some reason, the hall is literally stuffed with attendees.

The enrollment panel reviews despite the name, yes, was actually an open doors event. Much like an undergrad presenting a thesis it had a panel of judges and a crowd of listeners. Usually, it was limited to other potential interviewees who wanted to get a sneak peek in the twisted action to come but the number of people was 5 if not 10 times more audience than what you've ever been in.

Truth be told you never knew how friendly Erik was with other departments but even if he was a magnet surely this crowd was too massive.

With a rapidly rising anxiety, you start to pick out familiar faces. Some of them your trainees and previous teammates, some who gave you a stink eye, and then some with whom you didn't want to interact.

On the third row there sits Jungkook and sweet Jesus what were they feeding him in the footsoldier department. He was now almost twice as large as he had been when you last saw him. One tap of those arms and you'd be in an automatic knockout. Behind him sits Jimin, also looking confused as to why he's here. Which is somehow even more offputting considering he's the one who decided to be here. In the back rows, there is Jin, face hidden in his hands, large sunglasses pushed atop of his head. The only reason why you recognize him at all is that those very sunglasses had "JIN" in large letters above the rim. Naturally.

At this point, your insides are just a gaping screaming void of pure social terror as you start to suspect they were all here. While scanning the crowd you notice an orange fleck that is surrounded by a gaggle of students who eagerly listen to every falling word. That would be Hope. And far closer to the seat that you wanted to take sits V. For reasons unknown he was perched in the first row, fiddling with the strap of the camera. The last thing you want is to meet that vitriolic, judgmental stare of his but it would be unfair to Eric to sit anywhere else. The supervisor, even the one who had no idea that the review was taking place and did not actually write the referral, always sat in the front. The little scamp should have at least that.

You sit down stiffly with your hands bunched up in fists and shoulders tightened to the point where it was almost painful. V pretends he doesn't recognize you. You turn around once again to look over the crowd, almost meeting Jungkook's gaze but he suddenly finds his shoes to be the most captivating image in the world. Jin nearly takes off his jaw while ducking below the chair line and Hope is still surrounded by his devoted students. Jimin is persistent in looking disoriented.

In the faraway upper back, behind the fifteen rows of cascading seats, there is a second door. Slightly ajar and leading to complete darkness but you can swear there is a hand holding the doors open. For a moment you wonder who would hide away in a dark side room only to silently observe everyone but then you know exactly who. Yoongi. You whip around so fast the chair makes a loud squeak. In the peripheral vision, you make out a movement from V but he turns back to the camera without a second thought.

No, Erik was in deep trouble. The panel of judges or should you say evaluators was much too high standing for the first time enrolment. Rosaline Petsch's choice of coming here could be attributed to her being a harpy. Sure. Namjoon, although a CEO was known to just arrive at small scale events, to fully support his staff and also fully give them untreatable heart conditions. But the following had no place being here: Rhys Bethany, the key speaker of yesterday's anniversary and the head of Internal Affairs. Rahul Singh, chief of Communications. Tamira Johnson, head of International Affairs. Shen Qiongzi, head of Large Operations management. And two others whom you didn't even recognize. These were some of the biggest names of the entire organization and also the most bewildering. Strictly speaking, none of them had any input on the hiring or the enrolment process. The matters far, far below their usual duties.

Why were they here? Had Namjoon invited them? Why would he? Because he was still angry at you and was punishing Erik for it? He wouldn't do that but would he? Were you being narcissistic for thinking it had anything to do with you??

Whatever the answer was, hearing the last bell ring and seeing Erik, suddenly look very small and scared climbing up on the stage without even the protection of his notes folder... You felt a lot like seeing a crowd of shrikes encircle one mouse. You squeeze the handles of your chair, rocking back and forth with anxiety.

"As part of your legal right, what would be Your prefered choice of name for the course of this review?" You hear Ms Johnson speak. Erik picks up the microphone to speak...

....not a sound comes out of his mouth. You cringe.

"My real one, ma'am," he finally manages to croak after a moment of silence that was perhaps too long to be unnoticeable.

"Thank you. We will begin the first part of the enrolment request review for Erik Genyer."

You blanch at her words. The first part... meaning that what is about to happen was an actual full, point by point review and not the shortened version that came into popularity in recent years. The review would last three hours and it was three hours of ruthless questioning.

You grip the handles even tighter.

***

Erik fares surprisingly well. After the initial shock, he starts to melt into well-rounded answers. After the five minute pause in between the two parts, he even starts to subtly lean into humouring the panel, offering sarcastic, unhelpful comments. Truly one you could call your own.

Your heart is in continuing thunder as it beats harder with each given situation and particularly hard question. At this point, you have tossed and turned and quietly whined at every to the degree that it is noticeable to everyone in the room. And that in itself pushes to a worrying realization that Erik had somehow managed to slither his unholy way into your heart and become not just a trainee under your care but a friend. Like a proper friend. A friend that would leave you in literally the span of 10 minutes.

Namjoon who was eerily silent for most of the hearing, providing only two softball questions, had noticed your flighty twitching and leaned back to glance at you. You look at the ground knowing that you were perhaps not in the right mindset to put on a facade of your somewhat trademarked blasé attitude.

For God's sakes, you were not even this nervous in your own review but then again you had resigned yourself to the bottom of the barrel. Erik was not.

Finally, he passes the third part of the review. He had taken a few hits, all of which delivered by Petsch, but overall came out with impressive results. Two things were left to unfold. The panel would ask him what was his preferred choice of the department and then either allow it or politely indicate his skills would be more useful in another department and refer him there.

"Mr Genyer do you have a specific department choice?" Mr Singh asks politely. He'd been a tough but fair reviewer nevertheless it was always Namjoon who asked this question. Why was he so quiet? What was the point of showing up if he was going to be silent?

"I have." Erik answers and you see a smile form in his mouth. It was his bastard smile. Eerily similar to the picture of the cat surrounded by knives. You've seen that expression many times, mostly when he was breaths away from pissing off a lot of people.

"And what would that be, sir?"

"The cleaner department."

....

....

....

Not a single person breathes. Not a sound is made. The panel has gone speechless. You think your heart has stopped entirely.

"I'm sorry, do you mind repeating that?"

Erik couldn't look smugger as everyone stared at him.

"I'd like to work in the cleaner department."

The second time he says it causes an uproar. People actually stand up in the back. You hear a crunch to your side. Tae dropped his camera on the ground. There's so much noise you can't even decipher what is being said. Vaguely you maybe hear Jin's loud ass "what?" but that also could be literally anyone else.

The panel has to turn around and repeatedly shush the crowd. It is not an easy task. You just stare at Erik, mouth dropped open, eyes bugging out and he gives a self-satisfied smirk.

"I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations."

These were the reparations. As the crowd finally eases back you let out a breath, lungs screaming for oxygen. Hadn't even noticed the lack of breathing process.

"Why would you choose a cleaner department?" It is finally Namjoon's turn to speak but he too sounds astounded all the way to outer space.

"It is a lowly position." So low in fact, they were not in the count of departments. Hence the status of 0 out of 7. You're hit with another realization. "Aspiring 0". The one Erik had placed in his Instagram bio. It was not zero aspirations that you thought he meant, no he was aspiring to be 0. And suddenly it makes sense. Him being such a little pain in the ass, always sneaking off, taking cases well above his position, taking yesterday's case in fact. All to rank up and enter the review faster. You don't even know how to function with this information.

"Why would you choose the cleaner department?" There was only one person who had chosen the cleaner department. A year ago. You. But even back then the choice was between quitting altogether or becoming part of the 0.

"The cleaner department is as hard-working and as essential as any other position in the organization." He shrugs.

"Yes, but why choose it?" Ms Shen pursues. You can hear it in her voice that she simply cannot comprehend why would anyone choose to work there. Honestly neither can you.

"I like it there. The cleaner department has the friendliest, most genuine and accepting people I've met among all departments. Also, I've had the most supportive, protective mentor anyone could wish for. I've never been more inspired to both be myself and improve forward as I have under their tutelage and I hope that by working in the cleaner department I can repay them for the faith they had and hopefully continue to have in me."

His request is approved and after a quiet "review ended" Erik is officially given the position of the evidence removal department.

***

The crowd is restless. There's not a soul that's not debating outside the room. Everyone huddled up together. What Erik did today would go down in the history of the company. Right next to your name.

Briefly, you encounter Petsch who throws something snide in your direction but you brush past her without a second thought. Finally, you find that stupid red shirt, snuggled against the window. You break out in a sprint and smack him in the middle of the chest.

"OW!"

"Why would you do that?" You yell. Why are you yelling? You don't know. You're happy. Literally so happy. Erik begins to laugh, kinda nerdily as he is snorting a bit like a pig.

"You should have seen your face! Oh, man, I wish I had my camera with me! Oh, a picture truly is worth more than a thousand words."

"You idiot! I trained you," you deliver a smack "so you could," a smack, "have a better life!" Erik's smile doesn't falter for a second.

"What's better? It's a shithole here anyways. So they pay me more in other departments. The money I'd spend on therapy for working there would still decimate my pay into non-existence."

You stop hitting him as something dangerous bubbles up your throat. The hole in the chest filled. No, not that, he will never let me live if I do, you think to yourself.

"Are you actually crying?" Erik giggles his expression turning somewhat strange.

"No."

You do end up crying. After taking you to Omelas where surprise, surprise, your inner circle of other cleaners and Irina were waiting. Diego was already rolling on the floor with Liz trying to pull him up in a somewhat vertically inclined position. J.D. giving a quiet, appreciative nod and S - Jo along with Byun screaming their lungs out in some kind of celebratory song. You can't even tell which language they are screaming in.

Olga looks at the scene with mild amusement. If you'd had become a little bit like an unwilling older sister to this little horde of gremlins then Olga was like everyone's collective mom. How many of your messes and mood swings had she endured? You couldn't even count but you remember how badly you were afraid of disappointing her. And if Erik felt even the half of that...

It was then and after two bottles of vodka that you started sobbing. But just a little bit. After all, you hadn't cried in a while and if there was a better place to cry it was among this little makeshift family.

***

(a/n: lietonis, more commonly known as lietuvēns is a spirit from my country's folklore that is rumoured to strangle people and animals in their sleep. Basically something like a sleep paralysis demon.)

[solohux]

Hey, prompts are still open! And I just got this quick idea. Hux is a house fox, domesticated and rather pampered. Kylo, on the other hand, is as feral as feral can be but he just loves to stare at Hux from the forest line. The, rather red, fox loves to sit on the window sill and sun bathe and just love to watch this feral black fox from his pillowed sill. Hux is never let out but when his owner leaves one day, nothing is stopping Hux from meeting his beloved admirer.

Of course, one meeting leads to two, then three...and then a few pups, much to the owners chagrin.

what is meant to be a drabble has turned into 1.8k. enjoy!

Armitage has been waiting for this day for a while now. His owners, are having a overnight date night tonight, leaving the pampered pet fox alone in their countryside mansion for the day, free to do whatever he wants without their gaze.

Today, Armitage is going to see the black fox. A neko like Armitage, the fox has long, dark hair and two furry ears that sit atop his head, and bushy black tail with a white tip. He appeared last summer on the very edge of the forest that backs onto the Hux’s family home, staring up at the window where Armitage spends most of his day. The windowsill of one of the mansion’s many studies—on the second floor—gives Armitage a grand view of the woodland and beyond, and he loves nothing more than lying in his heated bed amongst a plethora of plump pillows and napping the day away. He’d spotted movement in the garden below one early morning and looked down to find a handsome black fox

So feral and rugged, Armitage had fallen in love almost immediately. He’s never even met another fox like him before, though neighbours had brought their excitable puppy—Poe—around for a visit one day and Armitage had screamed bloody murder at the pup. He didn’t like others in his territory but nothing unwanted had stirred in him when he set his eyes on the black fox in the garden, watching him prowl around before going back to the forest.

The black fox has been back to visit Armitage and stare up at him every day ever since.

The day has finally arrived that Armitage can sneak out without repercussions. Madame is fussing over him as she usually does, stroking through his soft, copper-coloured hair and making sure the red bow around his neck is still as perfect as it should be. Armitage almost purrs at her touch, always loving how much his owner spoils him.

“Honey, we have to go,” Sir says, tapping his foot at the door. “The car is waiting.”

“I just hate leaving him,” Madame says, fixing his blankets and pillows to make sure that her pet is comfy.

“He’ll be fine. It’s only for one night.”

“We’ve left you plenty of food, dear Armie,” she says, combing her fingers down his spin and to his fluffy tail. “And we’ve even left the television on the cooking channel.”

“Darling, please. Let’s go.”

“Yes, yes. Coming.” Madame stands up, smiling down at Armitage with her bright red, lipstick-covered lips. “Be good, Armie. We’ll see you soon.”

Armitage merely gives his tail a bit of a wag as they leave the room, though he listens carefully for them grabbing their suitcase and going out of the door. As quickly as he can, Armitage kicks off his covers and dashes to the front bedroom, peeking out from behind the safety of the blinds to see Madame and Sir climbing into their taxi and being driven away down the long, cobbled path to the front gate.

They’re finally gone. Armitage breathes a sigh of relief. The house feels much bigger with just him in it, free to wander around without the worry that he’ll disturb Sir’s work and be punished for it before Madame can find out, but he hasn’t time to dwell on things. His admirer is, no doubt, already waiting for him on the border to the forest.

But before Armitage can dash out of the door, he looks down at himself. Currently, he’s wearing nothing but the thick, red ribbon around his neck—tied in a bow but looking more like a collar—and a pair of skimpy red shorts. Madame has an array of clothes for her pretty pet all in the wardrobe in Armitage’s own bedroom so he goes there and begins looking through the clothes, wondering what would look best to impress his admirer for their first meeting. The black fox is always bare-chested and barefoot but wears knee-length black leggings and a long, black cape that looks like it could be made from the fur of his prey—or perhaps, another neko who dared go against him—so it’s unlikely that the fox would be too concerned with Armitage’s outfit.

But still. He wants to look nice for, what he considers to be, a first date.

Leaving his red shorts on, Armitage adorns a simple white shirt—one that’s a little short around the middle to reveal a classy amount of his soft belly—and a white hooded cloak, one that has a long slit up the back to allow his tail to be free. He may be a little chilly but he feels good in this outfit, showing off his pale skin in all of the right places. He slips on a pair of his diamante-encrusted slippers and heads downstairs, ignoring the platters of food that Madame has left out for him. There’s only one thing he wants right now and it isn’t that kind of meal. He’s hungry for something else.

Armitage quickly finds the key to the back door and he’s out onto the porch in the cool September air without hesitation, though gets overwhelmed after he takes his first breath of fresh, outdoor air in a long while. He’s a solely indoor fox, a neko bred for humans to adopt and keep as their pets. He has never known anything other than his warm windowsill, never even felt the grass beneath his toes—but by the looks of the dampness that covers the grass on the edge of the porch where he stands, he doesn’t want to feel it and he’s more concerned with his pretty shoes getting ruined.

But the very moment that Armitage looks up and finds the black fox staring at him from across the way, everything else becomes irrelevant.

Armitage’s first step onto the outside ground is met with disinterest as he walks across the Hux’s perfect back garden, through the back gate and out into the so-called wilderness; the patch of unowned land between the Hux’s mansion and the forest.

The black fox looks as handsome as ever, though as he gets closer to him, Armitage can see a scar that runs across his face, one that looks like 3 parallel claw marks that cascades over one eye and down his cheek. A battle wound, Armitage assumes. He finds himself shivering at the thought of the black fox being feral.

Armitage, in his white cloak, stands opposite the black fox and flags his tail in a sign of friendliness. From the safety of his windowsill, Armitage hadn’t quite realised just how much wider the other fox’s physique was compared to his own. He’s very broad-shouldered, but it only makes his cape and his stature look more regal, like a forest king.

“Hello,” Armitage speaks in his native fox-tongue, hoping that the black fox speaks the same language as him. His hopes of that are seemingly slashed in half when the other fox cocks his head at him and begins to close the gap between them with small steps, his dark gaze examining every inch of Armitage’s body as he moves closer.

Could Armitage have been wrong all this time? Is this fox about to claw him and sling him over his shoulder to be tonight’s meal? How naïve of him to think that a handsome, feral fox could possibly—

But the black fox drops to his knees very suddenly and bows his head as he reaches out for Armitage’s hand, taking it and placing a very gentle kiss on his knuckles.

“Taa’mia risaan,” the fox says, his voice deep and perfect.

But Armitage hasn’t a clue what he’s said, “I-I’m sorry?”

The black fox looks up, his dark hair falling around his face, “It’s forest-speak for ‘you are beautiful’. Very beautiful.”

Armitage feels himself blushing. “Thank you. You’re handsome yourself, Mr…”

“Ren,” the fox stands up, still holding onto Armitage’s hand and gives it another kiss. “Kylo Ren. I am Master and Leader of these woods.”

“I’m Armitage.”

“I’ve never seen a fox like you before,” Kylo says, sniffing the air a little. “Those humans. They stole you?”

“No,” Armitage shakes his head, looking back up to the house. He can see his windowsill from here, so close but so far at the same time. “Those people are my owners. They keep me warm and feed me and buy me things.”

“Red foxes have not been in these woods for centuries. I did not know they still existed but you captivated me the moment I saw you through the glass.” Kylo leans in to Armitage, clearly unaware of personal space so the closeness makes Armitage widen his eyes. “Your hair. It’s like a crown of copper.”

“Master Ren—”

“Kylo.”

“Kylo. I only have a limited time away before my owners are back and I must be back inside before then,” Armitage explains. “I want to know everything about you. And more.”

Armitage can’t help it. He turns around and lifts his tail up, revealing his perfectly peachy ass in his tight, red shorts. He half expects the fox to begin howling like a wolf at the sight but he doesn’t though he begins breathing deeply, his hot breath on Armitage’s neck just as the latter feels teeth begin to scrape against his skin. He almost melts back against Kylo’s chest.

“Your cape,” Kylo says quietly. “It is getting dirty.”

Before Armitage can complain about the change of topic, he’s swept up into Kylo’s strong arms as though he weighs nothing. Armitage can barely contain his glee.

“I suppose you have a den in these woods, Kylo,” Armitage says, raising an eyebrow and wrapping his arms around his admirer’s neck.

“I do, my pretty red thing,” he replies, carrying his new mate into the forest, “But forgive me for wanting to bring you some dinner first. For a pampered pet, you are much too thin.”

“Careful, Kylo. I can leap out of your arms and go straight back home.”

“Oh, Armitage,” Kylo growls, making Armitage smile and sending shivers across the red fox’s skin in excitement. “I’d like to see you try.”

[ceratonia-siliqua]

Hi! If you’re still accepting prompts, would you consir writing more of the GD Bucky and liefling Peter? I absolutely adored that fic. Your writing is some of the best in the fandom ❤️

Thank you!!! God, I’m sorry this took so long. I thought this would be an easy weekend project and then it became a process of over a month. 

This ended up being more of a collection of scenes and I may add more later but for right now I’d like this monster of a piece to be done ^^; 

Length: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, torture, and experimentation, one kinda nasty vomiting scene, suggestion and implications of cannibalism (but it’s never confirmed to be happening, being too sick to eat (don’t know how to tag it other than that). 

. . .

The sound of the metal shoot opening made Peter’s entire body clench in fear. The floor began to slope downwards in time with the screech of metal. Peter only added to the noise as his recently clipped claws tried to find purchase on the smooth wall. It was cramped, he was barely able to move as the shoot was made to shunt dead bodies down, not beings with their sense of fear still intact. 

His scramble was useless as gravity pulled him downward. He slipped down the slide and in a few terrifying seconds he was dropped onto the dirt. The second his legs were under him, he ran. Sticking close to the wall he tried to find a way out. 

The facility held dozens of demons of different creeds and types. All experiments for scientists, their goal unclear to test subjects such as him. All he knew was that this was a pen for one of the most horrifying of all they held captive here. A Greater Demon. They resided just below the Royal bloodline in terms of power and reasons to be feared. Massive and built to be predators, they were imposing to say the least. They are to be feared just on their own. Magic is hardly something they need much of, to the point some wonder if it’s had been bred out of some lines altogether. It didn’t matter though when you’re stuck in a cage with one. 

Being a half-demon, Peter shouldn’t even be alive. Most are culled at birth by their parents to spare them from a life as pets or sexual slavery. The market was massive but Peter wasn’t bred for that. One of the human scientists birthed him. His father, a Lesser Demon who had tried to protect him, and when that failed, attempted to kill him. He’d been too young to know him for the time they had shared. Peter was made to be a lab rat, something to examine under a lens. 

Now at somewhere between sixteen and eighteen cycles, he had outgrown his usefulness. 

Running on all fours, he was slowed by the shattered foot pulled tight to his pelvis. The limb withered by one cruel experiment that had gone too far. It could heal, he could be whole again, but there had been hushed whispers of people beginning to look a little closer at what was done in the labs. Peter was a living mark of their cruelty, the brutality and lengths they would go to in order to make life better for everyone but the demons they shared the earth with. 

He would die. Unwelcome in another demon’s territory, he would be slain. If not for that, he would be because he was prey and a source of food. That was what they had thrown him in to be, at least. 

The concrete walls that extended into the sky above him went in a gentle curve that hinted at the inclosure being massive and rounded. This was at the edge of the compound, outside in the fresh air and the territory of one of the only demons here with any sense of freedom. 

He ran until weakness overtook him. His body burned from the strain and the cold air froze his skin and lungs. With the last bit of his energy he hobbled into the underbrush. The only open space he had seen so far was roughly 15 feet of packed dirt around the perimeter of the cage. The observation towers positioned high atop the walls looked down on him, adding to the vulnerability of being out in the open. His dive into the brush was in the hopes they wouldn’t grow bored and shoot him before the other demon found him. Everyone in the compound knew that dead bodies were what they fed him and Peter was most certainly not dead (yet). He didn’t want them to decide he was better off joining that tradition. 

Packing his small body into the cover, he heaved in oxygen, trying desperately to fill his lungs through the panic and adrenaline running through veins. His first time being outside and he was practically shitting himself. He tried to settle down, put his head on straight and just think. He focused on the grass beneath him. The blades tickled, jammed themselves between his toes and the nooks between his paw pads. The sounds of birds made his ears twitch as he strained to pinpoint where they were under the rustling of the trees. He could smell water somewhere nearby and a trace of the earthy smell of another demon. Still on edge but winding down, Peter stayed put, cataloguing all the new sensations as a way to focus and think. 

He really couldn’t think of what to do. Greater Demons were not known to share, especially not with other Greater Demons. Most only tolerated each other enough to pop out a few babies and never spoke again. Only Lesser Demons had much of a chance of forming a mating bond and even then waltzing into another’s territory was a sure way to get fucking murdered. He didn’t know much beyond that. Every other demon he had been around in his life was a Lesser Demon or an occasional halfling. He didn’t even know what this mystery being might look like. Just that he had to be massive. 

Continuing to move was likely his best bet. If he sat here and stank up the area with his fear he’d be found soon. With his leg tucked against his chest again, he hobbled through the woods. Ears up and alert, he listened while regularly scenting the air. There was always a hint of another, like the very ground was infused with a little bit of the demon. Maybe it was. He had no clue what abilities the other demon would have. He just hoped he didn’t have cloak-

Peter froze, rigid and glued in place. Cloaking abilities. Fuck, fuck! 

He tried to make his glance around look casual, like he was debating where he was going next. The same underlying smell of demon hadn’t changed in intensity once and he had been too blind to realize the reason why. 

The woods were not quite silent but the noise seemed muted. Though, Peter really had no clue what normal woods should sound like. He scanned for anything amiss, an odd looking tree, an off rift in his vision. He couldn’t pick out a single thing but he knew he was being watched. He had to be. There was no way the other demon didn’t know damn well when feeding time was. He must have hung around the shoot but Peter hadn’t seen anything, bolting before thinking to get his bearings. 

What little fur he had began to raise. He stuck out like a sore thumb, muted red skin wasn’t exactly designed to blend in to a green birch forest. Forcing himself to move on like nothing was wrong, he went by gut feeling. Chose a direction away from the concrete walls and the new feeling of being watched. 

After an hour, nothing had happened. 

The only new development was the tired aching in his ankle and wrists. He’d never had to be active for this long. He didn’t really know what the experiments they did on him were for but endurance hadn’t been something they were looking for. 

He needed to rest, badly. His broken leg meant it’s twin was taking on extra weight. The jostling of his movements also didn’t help, making the shards of bone grate uncomfortably by one another. The feeling of being watched was still ever present but he simply could not keep moving. Just dragging himself to the dip amongst the roots of an ancient birch made his sore body throb. Collapsing into the cool hollow was a relief. He curled up, pressing as far back as he could manage and curled up, tail holding his limbs in close. 

Closing his eyes, just for a moment, he basked in the momentary stillness. He’s never experienced the form of quiet nature brings. The lack of machines whirring in other rooms was something he hadn’t thought much of until they were gone. The white noise no longer there but instead replaced with wind and the way the leaves and grass knocked together as it brushed past. 

Maybe the peace of his surroundings was what prepared him for the shadow that was cast over him. 

The slight shift in temperature gave it away, the shadow momentarily cooling his body further before the body heat masked the split second chill. He screwed his eyes shut tight, tucked his face behind the imaginary barrier of his thin tail. Just waited for the pain his life had been defined by to come crashing down, sharp and relentless. 

A sudden rumbling that shook the air and ripped a cry from him, short and scared. The sound persisted. He thought it was a growl, had enough sense to let out a terrified sob as hot breath rolled across his back. When a tongue swiped a tongue down his back, he was sure this was the moment he’d died. 

He was painfully slow to realize what the sound and touch were. 

The purring carried into his bones as his hair and the short fur along his back was groomed. Even understanding the gesture now, he stayed curled, not trusting this to be anything but a way to play with him before brutally crunching his bones into dust. 

The lung, large tongue ran down his spine in long, lazy strokes. The tufts of his fur caught just enough to be separated and cleaned. The coarse texture was surprisingly soothing when it met his skin. The demon behind him had to be large with how big just his tongue was, but he was scared to interrupt the moment that might be the only thing keeping him alive for a few seconds longer. 

Out of sound to make, he simply trembled when the tongue moved away and a massive paw of a hand scooped him out of the hollow, caging him between claws and a sturdy palm but not crushing. He didn’t fight the litany of ‘please’s that fell from his lips, a poor attempt to have his life spared as the Greater Demon began to move. The makeshift prison was warm at least as the light layer of spit cooled along his back. His injured leg remained safely tucked away to avoid being bumped. He prayed that this wasn’t some off game of cat and mouse, though his chances were admittedly slim. 

The shade of the trees turned to an inky black void as he was taken into some sort of den. It seemed to slope into the ground, as if some massive burrow. Eventually light came back, the dancing embers of flames from what he could tell of their flickering brightness. 

With a whimper, he was placed carefully on something soft. The plush fur under him was easily identified as he pressed himself into it, making his already small form, tiny. Peter spared a glance at the other demon and all the air inside of him left. 

By human standards, he was terrifying, but Peter was more demon than man and the blood that took too it boiled at the sight of the being before him. The demon was male, that was undoubtedly correct. The sheath that protected his penis was a dead give away if the size didn’t do it. He was massive, nine? Ten feet? He had a noble face, set and cut in the way only demons could pull off with all their angles and animalistic notes. The long, black hair waved on it’s way down, surprisingly well kept. His horns were large and silvery, looping once over themselves before turning forward into deadly points. The rest of his body was covered in fur, longer than Peter’s but not by much. 

Now having a face, the demon was not as scary. He lacked the ferocity his imagination had assigned the other. Still, he whimpered when a nose was pressed into his belly, wet and slightly chilled. 

Peter was rolled onto his back. Tried and failed to flip down onto his belly as his mangled leg was sniffed. Those eyes, full of fire yet piercing blue in color locked with his.

“Who harmed you?” 

It was not the question he had been expecting. 

“The scientists.” He kept his answer short, tried to pull away from the jaws too close to his limb. One of the oldest demons in the compound had once told him about demons eating broken limbs, choosing to spare the energy it would take to heal it and increase reserves. It was only done in desperation and usually self inflicted but having someone so close to it brought back the memory of the frightening practice. 

The demon bared his teeth. Peter flinched. The teeth went away and to Peter’s surprise, the other demon nuzzled against his side, still watching him. 

“Name?”

“Peter.” Hopefully the addition of a name meant he wasn’t on the menu. 

“Bucky.” 

It took Peter a second to realize that was meant to be a name, a returning of introductions. He repeated it out loud, wrapping his tongue around the word. “Bucky.”

The purr was sudden and deafening. Peter’s whimper in response cooled the noise to a loud but manageable rumble. As it continued the tension in his body eased, soaking up the sound until his own tiny chest vibrated in return. There was still fear, but it eased as he let his nerves settle under the calming atmosphere. 

Peter was just starting to go lax when his broken leg was extended. He howled and jerked but it was slowly straightened as he was hushed softly. It burned and the muscles felt displaced and wrong, like they were filled with burrs and the sticky grasses one of the scientists always complained about getting stuck to his clothes. 

He laid there panting through the pain as his leg was manipulated. It didn’t click as to what was going on until two straight, solid objects sandwiched his mangled leg. He looked down to immediately look away as his swollen, bruised leg was hard enough to look at without it being set into a splint made of large femur bones, their lofty heads cut off so they fit snugly against his skin. 

Keeping quiet is hard, but he managed it. Biting back any sound that tried to pry it’s way out. Bucky was careful at least, doing his best not to bump anything that might cause any additional pain or soreness. It was a small relief. He counted the seconds until it stopped. He was too exhausted to fight anything, hell, if Bucky suddenly did decide to eat him there wasn’t even enough left in him to escape that. 

To his relief, the manipulation of the joints and limb stopped. He rested, panting, on the furs and staining them with the thin sheen of sweat along his spine. Bucky rumbled once again, a sound that was comforting in a bone deep way that left him too soft to be jittery with anxiety. 

“Sleep, you’re safe.” 

And, despite everything that says he should not, that he should leave before he loses whatever entertainment value he seems to have, he falls gently into the void. 

_______

The days… weeks-- that follow are spent nearly in a daze. His leg began to heal as Bucky carved out a place in his heart. 

_______

Waking up each morning to a grooming session was not the way he expected things to go. The first time he shrieked and scared the shit out of them both. The second time he tensed. The third he let out a heaving sigh and only grumbled a complaint when he got a few swipes across his cheek, Bucky simply laughed.

They developed their morning and daily ritual from there. Bucky groomed him, rumbling as he pushed all Peter’s light, fluffy fur forward before smoothing it back out. He lovingly called it “baby fur”. Allegedly because Peter’s was about as soft and as sparse as a newborn. It was only a slightly stinging endearment for a while, gradually growing in affection as he was fawned over by the massive demon. He was kept clean, cleaner than he had ever been. Bucky’s doting keeping dreaded lice and fleas away and but a distant memory sat alongside dirty cages and moldy food. 

Bucky appeared to enjoy every second of Peter he could manage to ream out. He was there from the second Peter was awake and hardly strayed until Peter was safely tucked away in sleep. He only disappeared to find food, something Peter tried not to think about much if he could. 

His leg healed faster than he expected. Stitched itself back into one piece in a matter of a week or so, ushered forward by rest and a belly full of meat he never asked the origin of. He grew restless once he could bear weight on it, skittered up the walls and lashing his tail. He tried not to do it when Bucky was watching, afraid of being seen as a pest and Bucky growing annoyed enough to do something like re-break the new bone. 

Still, the Greater Demon picked up on his little guest’s agitation. He removed the stint and to Peter’s surprise, started nosing him up the ramp that led outside. With a cold nose pressed to his naked back, he was quick to move. Bursting out into the sunshine only to be blinded for a few moments by the white light of the sun. It made him sneeze a few times as his eyes adjusted. The now familiar rumble of Bucky’s laugh had him turning towards the sound, even as his body shook with the force of each sneeze. 

Bucky licked a playful strip through Peter’s hair before starting to walk into the woods, stopping and looking to see if Peter was following. 

Scrambling after, Peter stuck close at first but as they sank deeper into the woods, he couldn’t help but wander nearby. Bucky stopped to watch him, it took Peter longer than it should have to realize that Bucky seemed… tense. 

He was too busy flipping things over and sniffing through the undergrowth. A vole darted by and Peter was transfixed, taking off after it. Dormant hunting skills pushed to the forefront as he managed to snag the soft, fleshy body in his teeth. His teeth dug through the spine, snapped it in two with a crack that startled Peter enough that he dropped it. Embarrassed, he quickly picked it back up in his jaws, turned to show Bucky only to freeze. 

There was something dark in his strange companion’s gaze. He couldn’t for the life of him tell what it was but it didn’t feel like something positive. Peter was about to ask what was going on when a growl, a harsh and feral thing, ripped out of Bucky. 

Peter dropped to his belly, ears back, eyes wide as he trembled. He didn’t know what was going on and he whimpered as Bucky came at him faster than he thought possible. Slamming his eyes shut, he waited for the punishment that was clearly coming. 

When all he heard was the nearly deafening growling without the tear of his own flesh, he dared to peak. The furry expanse of one of Bucky’s hind legs was all he could see. Glancing up he saw the other demon’s belly. Craning his head over his shoulder, he finally processed what was going on. 

Turning to face forward, now bristling for a new reason, Peter saw a few scientists in armored suits. Bucky wasn’t going for them but they had clearly stopped coming towards the pair. Peter strained to hear, just barely picking up the English gargle he had grown up around. 

“... He’s not normally so aggressive.” 

“... --thought he ate the halfling. Why is it still alive?” 

“I wonder if he adopted it?” 

“No, this looks like mating behavior.” 

“Seriously?” 

They continued to chitter amongst themselves. Bucky softening his growl to a dangerous rumble but never faltering in his stance. They couldn’t hurt Peter without hurting Bucky in this position, Bucky had lowered himself just enough that his fur was brushing over Peter’s skin. It was a protective move, one that Peter mimicked by staying low in the tall grass around them. He made a quiet noise when Bucky settled entirely on top of him. He was still propped on his own legs but had the smaller demon tucked beneath him like a mother hen, keeping him warm against the cold ground. 

Peter jumped (eliciting a startled, sharp growl from Bucky) when a voice broke out amongst the rest, one he recognized. Crawling forward just enough to see, he relaxed as Dr. Rogers came into view, the white star on his armor giving him away if his voice hadn’t already managed to do so. 

“What are you all doing? Stop harassing him and work on cleaning up and taking readings.” Dr. Rogers sounded angry, never one to be happy about the demons he oversaw being treated like toys, he was the only scientist Peter would ever be happy to see. 

“But Dr. Rogers, look, the demon has something.”

Dr. Rogers looked over, taking the smallest of steps back when he caught the glimpse of Peter’s little horns peaking out above the grass.  

“Who is that?” 

The scientists shuffled nervously and the air shifted the way it only did when the tank of a man got truly pissed. 

 “What did you do.” The rage so biting that it couldn’t be read as anything but a statement. 

One unlucky man broke the silence, knowing it was better to take the beating now than a worse one later. “It’s the halfling Dr. Potts birthed.”

“Peter? I was told he died, in fact, I was told he passed away under peaceful circumstances.” Oh they’d done it now. There would be some serious hell to pay once they were all safely away from the enclosure and they all knew it. For now though, the doctor decided to turn his attention back on the pair 50 feet away from them. He crouched, helmet obscuring his features as he dug around in his hip pouch. The smell of something sweet hit Peter’s nose, enough for him to perk up and put his head hovering above the grass. Dr. Rogers crept forward slowly and stayed low to the ground, non-threatening as he held out a square of chocolate. Peter couldn’t resist, Dr. Rogers hadn’t ever hurt him, surely he wouldn’t start now with the offering of a sweet treat. 

The other scientists made noises of alarm as Peter moved forward. Peter assumed it was about him until he felt Bucky grabbing him by the scruff. He whined, tried to wiggle his way out of the grip, so focused on his treat that the fact he was being held in Bucky’s jaws failed to register in his mind. 

He managed to pout as Bucky turned and forced him to stay behind by wrapping Peter up in his tail. The scientists mutter amongst themselves, awe evident in their voice. Peter ignored it until a little line slipped through. 

“Dr. Rogers, have you ever seen a Greater take a halfling mate? The sheer size difference alone would surely be enough to prevent such a thing! A breeding would kill something so small!” 

Tense, Peter tried not to think about what they were saying. They keep saying the word “mate” like Bucky is interested in such a thing with him. There is no way… Right? Bucky is kind and caring but… No… No, it makes sense. Why else would Bucky let him live? 

“Well, we can’t exactly remove him… I guess we’ll just have to let them mate.” He’d never heard Dr. Rogers sound unsure and it made his skin prickle in alarm. Peter looked at the back of Bucky’s head and hoped the other wasn’t going to seriously try to get any body part inside of him. Even a finger seemed too big. 

“Alright, enough staring. I have a feeling he’s going to take a swipe at us if we don’t get to work. Just keep a wide berth and do your task.” 

“I really can’t believe you expect us to tend to the enclosure. You spoil it, Dr. Rogers.” 

“I think some basic hygiene and proper care is a pretty low bar to put as spoiling. He is my subject to oversee and unlike some, I’m not here to go on a power trip and brutalize him for existing. Now get to work. You’re on feces collection and clean up.” 

Peter tuned out the groans and complaints as he watched Bucky. Vigilant in his duty of guarding Peter, not so much as twitching or fidgeting in place. Carefully, Peter placed a tiny pawed hand at the base of Bucky’s spine. It was enough to get his attention as that massive head turned to look down at him, somehow managing to make Peter feel focused on without feeling smaller than he already was. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky slipped into the tongue of demons, one they had spoken since the start but was startling on Peter’s ears after hearing English after days without it’s constant chatter. 

“Yes… Is what they say true?” 

“... I don’t understand them. I have no idea what was said.” Bucky looked momentarily bothered but mostly intrigued, cocking his head as they stared at one another. 

“Ah… Nevermind then, they just said a few odd things about the trees.” It was a clear lie and Peter looked away as it came out of him but Bucky was kind enough to not push it. 

“Let’s get back then. I don’t want any of them near you.” Bucky picks up Peter’s earlier catch, the creature so small it must have seemed less than a mortal to Bucky. Still, Peter’s chest bubbled pleasantly at the sight, something unfamiliar that he put away to study at a later date as Bucky guided him with his tail through the forest and back to their home.

_____

Eating slowly becomes a hard task as they creep into winter. It hadn’t taken terribly long after trying different meats to find out that most of what Bucky had brought him was thankfully game that was periodically released into the enclosure. Still, Peter’s stomach was used to a wider range, potato scraps, pellets, stale breads, over-ripe fruit, and the occasional unwanted vegetable were all parts of his diet. Meat was a rarity and after weeks of nothing but it, his stomach began to revolt. Bucky offered him berries, some rooted vegetables, and the occasional green, and while it helped, meat was still the easiest to come by. Neither of them truly worried about it until Peter couldn’t keep it down. 

. .

They had just finished eating, some sort of small mammal that Bucky had torn apart so fast Peter had no clue what it had once been. Carefully sliced into easy pieces, Bucky placed the meat across a clean, flat stone to protect it from dirt. Bucky often ate before getting back, something Peter didn’t ask him about out of fear that it might be worse to know. So, the meal was all his. The first bite went down fine, the hunger that always nibbled at him in the late afternoon taking precedence over anything the rest of his body might have to say. It wasn’t until a fourth of the way through that the meal began to stick and slide down his throat in a way that made his skin prickle. Half way through and he was choking down the meat and gave up two thirds through. Urged to lay down, he curled up on the edge of their nest of furs. Bucky let him rest, gave the food time to mellow and ate the leftovers so they wouldn’t rot out in the open air. 

Peter dozes until nausea hits him hard and fast. He wiggled far enough to be off the pelts just as a solid, slimy mass of flesh spills from his mouth with a wet spalt. It had been squashed into a pellet somehow and gleamed with acid. Peter was swept up and back into bed, tucked in and filled with sips of water before Bucky made the disgusting show of failed digestion disappear. 

They had assumed that it was just a one-time situation, a fluke. It wasn’t until nothing but the barest of stubby greens that his stomach held fast to any food. He dropped weight, curled up and sickly as the Greater Demon fussed over every detail trying to keep every speck of fat he could manage on his tiny mate’s bones. It was miserable, an utterly grueling experience that left them both worn down. The cold months already tended to lead to more sleepy hours but it became a norm for them to hide out. Honestly, that might have been what saved them. 

The scientists, concerned by the disappearing act, somehow managed to figure out the situation. How was beyond Peter’s ability at the time. All he knows is that one day a scientist managed to pull Peter from the cave and the pricks of little needles and some sludge being forced into him. It was a terrible, awful experience that they managed to repeat a few times. Even looking back, he had no clue how Bucky was kept at bay. He sat at Peter’s bedside religiously during those days. He always told himself he would ask one day, but eventually, it became a forgotten memory, one that faded into the background. 

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Sabriel + "you snuck a cat into your dorm room and I won’t tell anyone if you let me come over to pet it when I’m stressed out"

For the Love of the Feline Fur

There’s a knock, and Sam looks at the door with great concern. It’s past dinner, and he definitely isn’t expecting anyone. He doesn’t have a roommate - perks of having the scrawniest room on the campus, Dean says - and his friends are all supposed to have gone out tonight; some farewell party thrown by a graduating senior, that is, exactly the kind of university-wide affair Sam doesn’t want to spend his evenings at. Sure, the Lucifer guy did invite him, but he’d had to excuse himself. It couldn’t be Kevin, either - he’s pretty sure he wasn’t back from Oregon yet. A fleeting thought claimed it might even be Dean - but the probability was a quarter in a million. Ever since Dean landed the job at the salvage yard, he’s hardly gotten out of Kansas - or so, he says. Sam can totally tell it’s got way more to do with the blue-eyed prudish dude Dean didn’t want to explain from his laptop’s screensaver. 

The thought that follows, is edged with the lingering fear of an inspection. In all his months here, it’s never happened, but every freshman has a fair bit of uneasiness, associated with the surprise checking of their rooms, as instilled by their seniors, like it’s a tradition. And obviously Sam’s inclined to be more terrified of such a possibility than others, now that he’s basically living on the other side of the law. 

In his own head, the situation worsens, his hope dwindling - fuck, what if word had gotten out, and that was the warden? What will he even -

Whoever it is, knocks again.

Sam grits his teeth, breathing tentatively, and decides he can’t waste any more time - especially if it’s the campus committee or whoever does these so-called checks. He pushes Amelia’s box further under his bed, and prays that she doesn’t wake up - as he goes to open the door with his most innocent look plastered on his face. 

Contrary to all he’s imagined, and all the various turnouts he’s considered - it’s just a guy from somewhere on his floor, that he’s seen around a couple of times in the manner that everyone at a college has seen everyone, but never had a conversation with. He’s short, so he’s looking up at Sam, and has a serious crease in his forehead. Sam can’t tell if it’s sincere, though. He waits for Sam to finish giving him a once-over, as he peeps through a slightly ajar door, before he asks. “Can I come in?”

“Hey.” Sam blinks. “What do you need?”

The guy raises his eyebrows, really noticeably high, till they’ve started to disappear in his blond hair, just as his make-believe frown. He looks at Sam pointedly, as if Sam is supposed to infer something from that bit. 

“Uh.” Sam mutters, confused. “What does that mean?”

“It’s the universal gesture for ‘I know’, Samsquatch.” He frowns, and Sam is taken aback by a lot of things at once. The way he managed to get his eyebrows that far up - and how they’re curving as they come down, to frame his grinning eyes. The fact that he somehow knows his name - or at least enough of it to give him a nickname. And what he said. About knowing.

When in doubt, play dumb. “Okay. Uh. Well, what does that mean?” He crossed his arms across his chest. “What do you know?”

The guy rolls his eyes. “You don't need to keep that act up, okay? Lemme in, and we can talk.” He lowers his voice, because Sam’s giving him a properly weird look. “I’m looking out for you, dumbass. I don't think you want me telling what I know out here in the hallway either.”

Now that makes sense to Sam, so he lets him inside, parallely worried that this stranger might actually know. He does all he can to not pull him in, except he can’t exactly come off as frantic. “Fine. Come in.”

He walks in, with his hands shoved in his wide hoodie pockets, and a Marvel jacket tied around his waist - looking around Sam’s tiny room as he does. It’s almost like he’s looking for something.

Sam never learned to do any better, so he keeps doing his ‘I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about’ bit. He gestures at the guy to sit, and he immediately chooses the red beanbag which Dean bought Sam as a joke when he started college, but which is also the only place available for guests in his room - and settles down, cross-legged on his ankles. Sam sits on the bed, because they’ve run out of sitting-spaces already. He holds back a sigh, as he feels the warm basket against his heel, as his legs hang off the edge. “Now, what?”

The guy goes for the frown again, and is apparently about to say something before he stops, and goes for an introduction instead. “I’m Gabriel, by the way. I live diagonally across the hall from you.” He grins. “There’s a Freddie Mercury cutout on the door?”

“Cool.” Sam swallows. Yeah, he knows that room. Always thought it was pretty cool, but then he has a very traditional ‘do not enter’ sign on his that he wouldn’t want to part with.

“And please stop looking at me like that.” He requests, going on. “I don't bite people, on first meetings. Unless they’re asking for it. And just to put your heart at peace, I’ve heard that you have a cat.”

“Heard?” Sam revolts. “Who else knows? How many people -”

“Figure of speech. Sorry.” Gabriel apologizes, cutting him off. “I didn’t hear it. And trust thy neighbor, nobody knows.”

“Then, how do you -”

“I was awake when you were smuggling it in.” He shrugs. “It’s regular for me to awake at 3 in the morning, of course -” He pauses, and shoots a sympathetic look at Sam. “But you didn’t know that, did you?”

“Why would I -” Sam started, and stopped himself mid-sentence, getting riled up. “Obviously I didn’t know! I would’ve used the other hallway!” He shrieked. Hell, he’d worked so hard to get her in. He’d bought her just before the store closed, running all the way there from his Economics class ending at 5 - and then left her with Garth, the friendly pharmaceuticals guy he’d convinced the day before, till he could come back to retrieve it. He’d even gone out twice before nightfall to make sure she got used to seeing him, and didn’t make much noise when he finally brought her into the building, disguising her box as a really fluffy pillow. To keep up the act, he’d even bought the only cushions available at Garth’s store - old, pink ones with the AIDS ribbon on them. 

“I have a cousin who’s been bred the same way as me, and he lives on the other side of you.” Gabriel tells him, cutting into his reverie, and Sam can hardly tell if it’s supposed to be a joke. “It’s really rather me than him, though.” Gabriel deadpanned.

“Why?” Sam frowns, flailing on the inside, but trying to keep it together. “You both would just rat me off to the warden.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, kiddo.” Sam scrunches his nose at that bit, but Gabriel doesn’t seem to care. “Balthazar? He, uh, has a bit of a crush on you. My bet is, he would’ve used that information to blackmail you into going out with him - and his dream chick-flick would end with the both of you co-parenting your cat, and his dog. Who I totally didn’t just tell you about.” Sam’s eyes widen. What does he even say to that? “But me? I’m a simple man, seeking simple pleasures.”

Sam gathers the courage to ask. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m obviously going to let you retain full custody of your cat.” Gabriel declares, solemnly. Three fourths of the time, Sam can’t tell if it’s a joke. “And I’m obviously not going to tell that bitch of a warden.”

Sam relaxes a little. “Thank you.” He says, smally.

“But I do have a small condition.” Gabriel now breaks into a gummy smile with zero warning, and it’s almost blindingly adorable, and Sam is almost unprepared. “I won’t tell anyone - and I mean, anyone - if you let me come over and pet it when I’m feeling stressed.

Sam looks at him in bewilderment. “What?”

“What?” Gabriel argues, folding his arms on his chest stubbornly. The smile is gone. “I explained it fairly well, so you know what I mean.” A little softer, he added. “Are you in?”

It may be a weird choice, but it’s not really a tough choice to make. “I - yeah. You know what? I am.”

“Wow.” Gabriel leans back, and visibly relaxes himself. “I didn’t have to beg.” He laughs, and suddenly it’s very clear that all the seriousness was just an exterior. Sam looks at him, captivated. 

Before he can think of what he’s saying, he’s let out a, “You kidding? I’d thought I’d have to at least plead. And give you something that wasn’t petting rights.”

Gabriel easily winks at him and Sam has to fight off the slight urge to blush before it shows up. “What would you have given me?”

“Peace.” Sam shrugs, sidestepping the innuendo. “Done your assignments for a month, or something. Got someone to do it, maybe. Whatever, dude. I would’ve figured something out in exchange for your valuable silence.”

“I now feel bad for accepting the first offer on the table.” Gabriel has a baleful expression, and Sam can’t help his own smile.

“It was your offer.”

“Yeah, fine.” Gabriel scowls. “I’d take an emotional support cat over no homework anyday.” Then he pauses dramatically, with a look befitting a questioning of one’s entire existence. “Wait, would I?”

“Yep, you would.” Sam tells him, not bothering to question his own conviction, but the smile coming to him way more easily now. It could honestly have gone a lot worse. And if this Gabriel guy truly only wanted to get to spend time with a cat, in return for not telling on him - how bad could he even be? Also, he’d only asked for permission for when he’s stressed - and though Sam doesn’t mistrust the abilities of college to stress a student, that probably, hopefully means that Sam’s not going to have to share a lot of his cat either.

“I probably would, yeah.” Gabriel sighs, and he sounds so deeply moved by the realization, and is sporting such a doleful sadness, Sam is laughing again - already warming up to the guy.

***

Somehow, time flies by with them getting to know each other, and it’s almost midnight when Gabriel is preparing to leave, and says one last time. “It’s been a pleasure dealing with you, Sam.” He drops the serious tone almost immediately. “Also, there goes the literal last time I ever call you by your actual, full name.”

“It’s actually Samuel, and shut up and please call me Sam.” Sam jokes, before adding. “And I suppose you’d want to shake on it now?” Referring to their deal. 

“How did I not think of that?” Gabriel looks positively ashamed of himself. “I’m so proud of you, Samphire. Awesome. Now bring her out!” Sam stares at him in confusion, till he imitates the frankly adorable motion of holding a tiny paw, and Sam laughs, nodding.

“Fine.” He reaches under the bed to pull out Amelia’s box, and she’s not very asleep apparently, because she almost immediately opens an eye when Sam picks her up. It’s a groggy look she spares in his direction, before looking at the new person. Some part of Sam wonders if she’d like Gabriel - and most parts of him are sure that she would. But a small part of him says that if she doesn’t, the deal would be off, and Gabriel would just have to make do with no homework instead.

She’s not very large, and Sam had big hands - so it’s an adorable contrast to Gabriel, who instantly holds out his hands for her. 

Sam feels a beat of hesitation in handing her over, he’d not thought he’d be doing it to anyone - not recently, anyways - but Gabriel has such an expectant, excited look on his face that Sam’s unexplainable walls melt off enough for him to hand her over. “Meet Amelia.”

Gabriel instantly cradles her in his arms, muttering in Sam’s general direction. “Come on, you can do better than that when you’re introducing her.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but holds his hands out for her. “Fine, give her back, I’ll try again.”

Gabriel doesn’t make any moves to give her back. “You need to practise first.” While he focuses all his attention on the small cat he’s holding. Crap, she fits so much better in his arms, she manages to look average-sized. When Gabriel spontaneously meows at her, she purrs back, and Gabriel’s eyes go as wide as saucepans. “Oh my god, she’s perfect.” He whispers, completely sincere, before meowing again; but this time she doesn’t oblige him with an answering purr - probably more asleep than Sam had thought - though she noses slightly against his palm and Gabriel audibly gasps. 

Sam finds himself smiling at the two of them. He clears his throat, and repeats, uncaring of how goofy it sounds. “Gabriel? Meet the lady of my life, Amelia Catheart.”

Gabriel turns his eyes up to Sam’s unpainted ceiling. “Jesus, what a nerd I’ve managed to unearth.”

Sam swats at him. “It’s a clever pun, okay?”

“It’s the most cliched pun to ever exist.” Gabriel swats back. “You call that clever? You would’ve just as soon named her J.R.R. Tolkitten.”

“That’s pretty good.” Sam mumbles, under his breath. “But that’s more like a guy’s name. But hey, before the whole twitter discourse, JK Meowling was on my list.”

“Of course, it was.” Gabriel sighs. “You wanna hear cool cat names, Samwise? I’ll give you some.” Amelia doesn’t make a single movement, probably dozing off again, as he lists off his fingers on his other hand. “Catsanova. Meow. Uh, Fuzzinator. Shakespurr.” He looks incredibly proud of himself.

“Why does Shakespeare get to be on your list?” Sam frowns.

“Hey, hey, hey. Old Bill wrote a lot of gay romance, so he gets a wild card entry.” Gabriel informs him, knowledgeably. “Also, the list goes on. There’s so many wonderful names! There’s even customized ones. Cat-vak. Nocat?” He laughed breathlessly. “Wait, what’s your last name?”

“Winchester.”

Gabriel gasps theatrically, pulling at Sam’s sleeve as the idea comes to him. “Pawschester!”

Sam blinks. “Wow.” He squirms. “We could make that her last name, you know. Amelia Pawschester is awesome.”

“Oh, but it’s too late.” Gabriel smirks, annoyingly.

Sam scowls. “It’s not too late, she’s not gotten used to Catheart, I never call her that - I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if she’s named -”

“Nope.” Gabriel teases. “It’s too late, Sammich. You lost your chance at having your cat’s name match her dad’s. And at having a cat with a cool name. What’s done is done.”

Sam flicks at him, frowning. “Shuddup.”

“The time has gone by,” Gabriel laughs, egging him on. “Alas! Even you know, in the depths of your heart, that it is too late. Don't you wish you met me before? Before your cat lost her chance at -”

“Everything about my cat is perfect, you shut your mouth.” Sam jutted his chin out boyishly, crossing his arms tighter on his chest, and Gabriel throws his head back and laughs.

“Okay, now that I can agree with.” Gabriel loses the edge, and shoots Sam the cheesiest smile ever, making him melt into a mirroring grin, before returning to being fascinated out of his depths by the completely asleep cat in his arms.

***

It’s only been a couple of days, that there’s a knock on Sam’s door at eleven in the night - followed by a voice singing his name, which he recognizes almost immediately. He may have been thinking about it. 

But, safety first, and just to be sure, he decides to put Amelia down in her box. “I’ll be there in a minute!” He calls, urgently, getting up from his seriously comfortable spot on the bed. She mewls softly, but doesn’t do much else to object when Sam mumbles an apology and pushes her box under the door, and goes to the door.

Sure enough, it’s Gabriel. He’s wearing a jumper, which is strange because Sam’s only in a v-neck. But then, most things about this man are strange. Gabriel looks up at him with a wide smile. “So?” He draws out the vowel. “Were you, like, doing your homework completely naked, or just cuddling with your super secret cat?”

Sam gives him a look, one which he hopes manages to convey how much of an inconvenience it was to get up for Gabriel’s sake, as he lets him in with an exaggerated shushing gesture - he doesn’t want word to get out that he has a cat to cuddle with, in the first place. 

***

Almost a week later, after Gabriel’s spent around two hours in his room, talking to Sam about what a crappy day he’s had because of his ridiculous group for a Community project; and talking to Amelia about how she’s really, really soft and how he loves her very much - just before he leaves, he turns to Sam with a playful look in his eyes. 

“Guess what I was thinking of in bed last night.” He starts.

“No offense, but I don't think I want to know.” Sam returns, grinning.

“Oh, wait. You mean, like that? Well, I was absolutely all over Sirius Black.” Gabriel threw back, letting out a dreamy sigh which made Sam snort. “But this is different, you perv. I was thinking about us having a password.”

“How do you mean?” Sam frowns. 

“Like, I’ll knock and say the password, and then instead of you having to get up and put her in her box and wrap up your designated quota of anxiety, you just say the word and I could let myself in.” Gabriel suggests.

“You really did watch too much Harry Potter last night, didn’t you?” Sam teases. But he doesn’t hate the idea. Would save him a lot of effort, really. “And, I don't think I mind us doing that. As long as the code’s only known to us.”

“Obviously.” Gabriel nods.

“So, what will it be?” Sam asks, as Gabriel stands up and hands his cat back to him. Amelia purrs a little - he’d specified needing a quieter cat at the shop, and such a wise decision that’d been - and gets comfortable in his arms, as he cradles her. Fuck, he was never going to get used to this feeling of bliss associated with having a pet who loves you. 

“How about ‘Gabriel and Amelia Forever’?” Gabriel laughs.

“How dare you,” Sam scowls, but doesn’t mean it at all. “It should rather be, ‘Sam and Amelia Forever’.”

Gabriel instantly furrows his brows. “Nope. That makes her sound like your girlfriend - I’m sorry but you’ve got a name that totally sounds like some human-Amelia’s type - and I don't think I like that very much.”

What do you even say to that, so once more, Sam nods. He’s absolutely not turning pink. That would make no sense at all.

“You know what? We’ll decide it later.” Gabriel picks up his stupidly neon jacket, goes to leave. “I’ll text you or something. I think I should get back to my room now. Because someone revoked their offer to do all my stuff for a month.”

“It’s still a fair deal.” Sam counters, as Gabriel waves at Amelia in particular. 

“I know.” Gabriel agrees, emphatically. “You let me pet your cat, and rant to you.” His voice grows thoughtful. “Wait, did I ever thank you for all of it, Sammich?”

He’s so serious that Sam doesn’t know how to reply at all. Words cling to the insides of his mouth. But he clears his throat, and mutters, “You know we don't mind it at all, right?” He turns to Amelia, who just blinks, to reinforce his point. He doesn’t want to go into details, not about how he truly does enjoy every bit of this - and doesn’t want to turn sappy randomly, so pretending your cat sought all your attention all at once is easily the best way to deal. 

Gabriel is quiet for a while, probably contemplative, but Sam only looks at him properly after a moment has passed. “Right. Yeah. Thanks.”

“You don't have to say that -”

“Nah, this is for the part about you not minding it.” Gabriel tells him, and though he says it so simply, it’s wonderfully difficult to comprehend. “Just - I should go, okay. Goodnight, Samwise.”

“It just keeps getting worse.” Sam rolls his eyes. Because it was true. It was almost amusing the first few times, and a few of the names were cheesy enough to earn a smile, but it just kept on growing more and more ridiculous.��

“Goodnight, Amelia Catheart.” He adds, ignoring Sam.

“Sure. Her, you call by name! I might not, but she gets the basic right of being called by her own -” Sam begins.

Gabriel cuts him off with a smile so happy that Sam is temporarily stunned, and definitely thrown off enough for the latter to make his escape. Sam swears under his breath, though he doesn’t really know why he does it - and lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding.

***

They do decide on a password after all. It’s ‘The Tin Man’, because that’s from the Wizard of Oz, just as munchkins are. And Amelia’s a munchkin, so that worked out.  In fact, Sam is very impressed when Gabriel justifies it to him later - especially by how unobvious it is - and the both of them are very proud of themselves for it.

For a week.

Then, Gabriel says that he thinks Harry from the room next to Sam’s has been looking at him weird - probably because he heard him giggling out ‘Tin Man’ more than once, outside Sam’s door. Sam thinks that makes sense. They decide to reconsider their choice. And this time, go with something that’s easier to justify.

Sam agrees, and they set about thinking again, till Gabriel suggests that the best code is not just one which is unobvious, but one which is completely random. Again, this makes perfect sense to Sam, and he instantly suggests something which Gabriel claims he’ll always be able to justify.

So then, as one does, they start using ‘ramen’.

***

 Amelia hasn’t known many people since she started living with Sam - only Garth, and that one afternoon of Dean. But now, there’s Gabriel, and not only does he adore her - he’s terrific.

After a while, it becomes sufficiently clear that Gabriel doesn’t only come over when he needs to feel better - he comes over, more so because he wants to be with Amelia and her parent. He asks Sam questions about her, and Sam has never enjoyed having a pet so much before - because now, he gets to share these little things with someone. He gets to tell someone, that for some reason, Amelia loves it when he pretends to have gotten hurt, because she’s always prompt in stepping up to meow at his “wounds”. Gabriel corrects Sam when he calls it offering condolences, with a snicker, and a, “Your cat may be a sadist, Samantha.” Sam justifiably swats at him.

He now gets to show someone how Amelia totally dances to November Rain. He gets to think aloud and what he’ll feed her for dinner, and how she’s earned a treat - and all those things that he used to have to keep to himself.

He also gets to have someone to crib to, when one fine morning, Amelia tears through his new textbook in her exploration of her claws probably - but it’s a textbook that costs more than a fortnight of meals, so that’s that. Gabriel, angel that he is, offers to come and take Amelia to his room for the day, because Sam stubbornly claims he doesn’t want to see her right now - but then Sam pleads him to take her away to just another corner of Sam’s room, and Gabriel agrees with a rather understanding nod.

Initially, he used to be a little bit jealous - of how easily Amelia fell in love with Gabriel, but Gabriel and Amelia can have so much fun together, that Sam goes back to his habit of turning on the music unless someone hear her purr - like he used to do, during the first few days of having her. But he’s far from envious now, and happily joins in. Pretending to be the victim, of course.

Gabriel brings her treats too, because he happens to go out for some reason or the other almost everyday, while Sam stays in with his assignments and pet, after their classes. He doesn’t want to leave her alone for any more time than he absolutely has to. So Gabriel brings back cookies, and they smell so good that it’s useless trying to convince her it’s an empty box, so that she could be surprised later.

One of the best parts is when Amelia does something absolutely fascinating randomly, and he doesn’t have to be the only one gushing over it. The other day, she managed to get herself inside Sam’s pencil stand, and kept peeking at him from there as if keeping a check on him - and Sam didn’t have to think twice before taking a picture and sending it to Gabriel. Who replied with an involuntary keysmash, several heart-eye emojis, and proceeded to show up outside his door within two minutes, urgently whispering, ramen. 

All in all, Sam kind of loves having someone who loves Amelia around. More than he would’ve imagined, but that’s probably owing to the more particular fact that it’s Gabriel. And Amelia certainly doesn’t mind having another kinda-sorta dad around either, so there’s that.

***

Almost a month later, when Gabriel falls sick, Sam realizes he misses him more than a lot. They text, and Sam sends him pictures of the more mediocre things too, but it’s not the same thing as spending your nights regularly staying up with someone, sitting on the floor and discussing your respective lives while playing with your absolute darling of a cat - a schedule that makes sense, because this way she sleeps for most of the time, they both have college. 

It’s not the same thing at all. So, he figures out a way to make it work. 

The next morning, when he’s only just leaving for his lectures, he doesn’t persuade Amelia to go back to sleep. He instead starts prepping the pillow thingy from how he first brought her in, pulling a large pillow cover on her bed - yeah, Amelia’s not sleeping in a box now, they’ve bought her a proper basket - and setting off with his bag slung over one shoulder, trying to be nonchalant about carrying such a large, floofy thing while on his way to class.

He wants to surprise Gabriel really, so he hasn’t told him anything about this idea - though it feels infinitely weird to be on the other side of the door, knocking and whispering ‘Ramen’.

Almost on cue, Harry - who just fucking happens to have been walking by - gives him a weird look. 

Sam has no idea how Gabriel does it.

It’s easier soon, when he hears a surprised, ‘Come In!’ In a voice which is definitely Gabriel’s, though it sounds different, probably because he’s sick. Sam walks in, excited to show Gabriel what he’s brought with him, and finds Gabriel all piled up in a bed under a couple of blankets. “Morning, Samshine.” He greets, smiling - and instead of looking miserable, he manages to look so goddamn comfortable - that Sam just wants to take his cat-containing-pillow and get in bed with him. 

“Wait.” His eyes widen. “Is that -”

“Yep.” Sam announces. Gabriel’s eyes visibly light up, and his eyebrows disappear in his hair. Sam feels proud of himself. “I figured you missed her.” He adds, and it’s not a lie, but it’s definitely not the complete truth. But Gabriel nods so enthusiastically, that Sam sets her down on the bed and begins to excavate the cat from the cotton. 

Soon after, Gabriel shoos him away, reminding him that he’s got classes to get to - bringing in a mention of Professor Zachariah and latecomers as his final card, and Sam leaves. He suspects Gabriel’s more excited to get rid of him because he’s never gotten to spend time with Amelia alone - the closest he’s got to that is when Sam’s studying on his desk and he’s playing with her on Sam’s bed. He’s a little surprised how little he minds leaving Amelia with Gabriel now, because he had totally anticipated some first-day-of-preschool parent-blues. But he isn’t worried about her enough to bunk his lectures, and get back to the latter’s room - though it’s a temptation he has to fight; the chance to spend the day with his cat and his - uh, well, Gabriel. 

That night, Sam works on his midterm paper in Gabriel’s room, and later brings them both dinner from the mess. It feels strange to be the one ‘providing’, in a twisted sense of the word, but he suspects it’s just the feeling of entering a room that’s not as cramped as his, and seeing the two of them curled up in bed. It was a good thing Amelia was a cuddler sort, otherwise Sam and Gabriel would’ve tired her entirely.

After dinner, he decides that it’s probably too much work to take Amelia back for the night - and it’s a risk he doesn’t want to indulge in needlessly. Gabriel supports this decision wholeheartedly, and for the first time in months, Sam’s going to sleep in his room alone. 

(It’s not that big a deal at all, but again, it feels weird enough that a few hours in, Sam moves back to Gabriel’s room with an actual pillow this time. It’s only because Gabriel is sick and won’t be able to take care of Amelia, he reasons, and Amelia might get feisty during the night and make his condition worse - and it’s several such excuses he makes to no one in particular, because Gabriel just hums his affirmation within a minute. He settles on Gabriel’s couch for the night. Yeah, Gabriel has a couch, while Sam uses a beanbag to welcome his guests. It’s not large enough, but it’s comfortable, and he wakes up, breathing laboriously, only to find his cat curled up on his chest, and a weighted stare from Gabriel, which makes him pink, because he just might have been watching them sleep.)

***

A few more weeks go by, and it’s closer to finals now. Sam’s at his desk, with Amelia warm in his lap, not making a sound because she’s brilliant like that when Sam’s working - and it’s one of the favorite parts of his day. He’s already finished his first draft, and is skimming through for the first time of necessary edits before he’s done for the afternoon, and can watch a movie when Gabriel arrives. He sips from his travel mug, because he’s been putting off washing the regular one - and is almost too concentrated when there’s a knock on his door. 

“Ramen,” follows in a singsong voice, and Sam is smiling as wide as ever as he saves the changes, and resolves to come back to it later, before closing the file. The door opens, and sure enough, reveals Gabriel - he’s in an orange turtleneck, which would look ridiculous by itself on a rack, and he’s carrying multiple packets in his hands. 

“Surprise!” He announces, latching the door behind him. 

Sam gets up, after Amelia has jumped nimbly from his lap and pattered over to Gabriel - and follows the route his cat took to Gabriel. “What’s this?” He asks, reaching out to glance at it, when Gabriel holds it out. 

They’re cat toys. A whole damn lot of them. Sam doesn’t even recognize most, he’s sure, as his eyes widen. He registers the things which he does know of - catnip, chew toys, a scratching pad, many plush colored mice which are also chew toys, and, “Oh my God.”

“Do you think,” Gabriel gushes, excitedly. The happiness is contagious, and Sam has a smile as well. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Of course,” Sam mumbles. Amelia never had many cat toys - only the most traditional ones, which Garth and Dean contributed to, actually. With buying a cat, and then having a pet to feed - his expenses had gone up fairly enough, so he hadn’t been able to spare much thought to buying them. “This is ridiculously too much, Gabriel.”

“Oh, shush,” Gabriel said, cheerfully. “I blame Pet Empire, for having such a cute cat section, and you, for making me want to make your cat happy!” Sam chuckled. “I didn’t even get the big stuff, you know, because it would be slightly harder to explain if I dragged a Tower of Toys through the hallway.”

Sam pales a little at the thought, but nods. 

“If you want, though, we can go get one of those assemble-at-home kits, and put it together on a sunday and -”

“This is too much.” Sam repeats, feeling a sort of happiness for Amelia that mostly beats the embarrassment at having her treated to so many things by Gabriel. “Ridiculously.” He adds, as before.

“Oh. Shush.” Gabriel repeats, laughing, as he holds out another packet specifically for Sam to hold, and puts the rest of the things on the floor for Amelia to examine now. 

Sam peers inside, and frowns. “Gabriel. I’m not going to make her wear clothes.”

Gabriel frowns back, harder, like it’s a challenge. “But you wear clothes, don't you?” He nudges, and it’s not a challenge again, but his frown deepens. 

“Gabriel, I’m not accepting any-” He begins, but brings out the garment and let out an involuntary gasp. It’s a grey sweater, and it’s so soft, and there’s a cat’s whiskers and eyes on the front, and it’s absolutely adorable, and it is making him melt on the inside. “Holy shit.”

“I got one for me too!” Gabriel tells him, beaming at him. “They sold it in pairs, and it was just the best thing ever!”

A his-and-his kitten sweater, Sam’s brain instantly goes to - but he makes it stop before he can externally lose it. “I -” He tries to find the words in which he’s going to ask Gabriel to take it back, because this is completely off-occasion, and he hasn’t ever gotten Gabriel anything and Gabriel bought his cat so many toys and him the nicest sweater he owns and -

“You can’t not like it.” Gabriel boasts, and he looks so terribly certain of himself, in that typically smug way of his - that Sam loses the fight in him. 

“Just - uh. Thank you, okay?” He mumbles.

Gabriel waves his hand dismissively, but he’s wearing a huge smile and Sam doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s blushing, and it’s just - a really great moment, okay? Right before Gabriel perks up and says, “Guess what I did for the size, though? Just asked for the largest size in the boy’s section.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Like I’d have asked for the smallest, if I were shopping for you?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Gabriel replied, not even bothering to look offended and Sam huffs a breath.

He grins back, and with another glance at Amelia on the ground with all her toys in the bag and her trying to paw them out, remembers his resolve. “Okay, smartass. Thanks, again, I guess. But I mean, why this stuff? What is it today?”

“See, now I want to say that it’s our anniversary because I dig cheesy, but I don't remember what day it was when I first assaulted you for petting rights, and in case you do, it’ll just be embarrassing when I get it wrong.” He snickered, and earned a snorting laugh from Sam. No, he didn’t remember either. Just knew that it’d been April. Because he’d been reading something for English, and he finished his semester in May. It must’ve been a tuesday, because he was weirdly sure it was meatloaf day at the mess. And - it doesn’t matter, does it? 

 “Well then, what is it for?” 

“I guess,” Gabriel starts, seriously. “I didn’t want Amelia to think I’m only using her for her stress-relieving fur.”

“I’m almost a hundred percent sure that she doesn’t think that.” Sam consoles him, sincerely.

“But like, just to be sure.” He winks at Sam, and Sam feels the tension from before returning. “And even if I’ve only been using her for selfish purposes, I should at least be a sugar daddy right.”

Sam chokes. “How do you come up with this stuff?”

Gabriel shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your cat’s stress-relieving awesomeness-inducing magic fur.”

Sam throws his head back and laughs. “Do I need to get Amelia checked for growing drugs on herself, or something?”

Gabriel sighs. “You know, you just might.”

“Shuddup, my cat is perfect.”

And yeah, those words have definitely been said before, but Gabriel is solemnly nodding and Sam doesn’t mind being an unoriginal, ardent admirer of Amelia. At all. 

Amelia seems to acknowledge their existence at this point, and claws at Sam for help in getting the things out of their plastic packaging. Sam gives her a look for the clawing, but she meows back stubbornly. Almost too loud, and Sam winces.

“Look what you did.” He glares at Gabriel. “Spoiled my perfectly nice cat, is what you did.” He adds, because Gabriel doesn’t look guilty at all.

“I’ll deal with her.” Gabriel tells him, kneeling down on the floor, so that he can give all of his attention to her. He begins to undo the wrappings. “We’re just two attention-seeking peas in a pod, aren’t we, Amelia?” He looks up at Sam with a wink, because she’s gone quiet almost immediately as Gabriel brought out the cat wand, trying to learn how to play with it, maybe.

Sam sighs, but it’s mostly pleased. “Fine. Justify her behavior. Let her make noises now. I’ll drop her off at your room at night, and see how you like it then.”

“Well, it’ll guarantee you sleeping there too, so I don't think I’ll hate it very much,” Gabriel returns, like it’s on the tip of his tongue, and Sam swallows at the remark. 

“Shut up.” Ignoring his turn to contribute to the bickering, he instead offers, “Well, I’ll just put on some music in case she makes noises too catlike for me to justify as you doing impressions.”

“I’m really doing wonders for your sense of humor.” Gabriel tells him, snorting loudly, and Sam rolls his eyes before getting up like a good host, to go through what he has. He easily finds a playlist for popular songs of the decade, because he’s not in the mood to look for songs specifically - and puts it on shuffle. 

Justin Timberlake comes on, and music fills the room loud enough to drown out all sounds Amelia could make. Like it’s supposed to do, really.

But Gabriel stares at Sam, wide-eyed. “I don't think you want to be playing that song right now, Sambo.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “Why not?”

“How do I put this?” Gabriel pursed his lips. It wasn’t clear if he was stifling a smirk, or his discomfort. “Everyone on the floor already thinks we’re banging, so playing sex songs like that doesn’t help.”

Sam almost objects to it being a ‘sex’ song, before realizing simultaenously that maybe it was one, and also that that wasn’t important. Gabriel has his hands shoved in his pockets.

Sam blinks at him, incredulous. “They think what?”

“Wait, you had no idea?” Gabriel actually looks taken aback, as he goes on. “Come on. We lock ourselves in your room, blaring music loud enough to drown out any sounds, practically for hours every night.”

“We spend afternoons together too.” Sam mutters, short-circuiting, and focussing on the dumbest part. And moving to another. He isn’t really thinking about what he’s saying right now - it’s coming from his lips, but he can’t truly be thinking these things, can he? He should be thinking things like how disgusting that is, how he instantly needs to go out on a date with someone else, not that he’s ever gone on a date with frigging Gabriel! Just - 

“Sam?” Gabriel asked, looking just a little bit concerned.

“How could anyone have so much sex?” Sam blurted, unthinking.

But Gabriel didn’t seem to mind his off-topic comment, and replied smoothly. “See, you’ve not had sex with me yet, so you don't know just how easy it is.”

And Sam blinked at him - not knowing what to freak out about, or in what order. The fact that everyone thought he was doing it with Gabriel, or the fact that Gabriel had just casually slipped in a ‘yet’. In any case, Amelia meowed at him pointedly, as if asking him to turn his attention from these pieces of information handed to him back to her, so that they could play with the toys Gabriel had bought her together - because Gabriel was already picking out mobby mouses, lattice balls, caterpillar teasers and whatnot; ignoring Sam’s gaze with just that hint of a smirk. 

***

Okay, so I took a terribly long time with this, but in my defense, it turned out super fucking humongous. The original prompt got messed up, and I’m sorry to everyone who was subjected to it. It’s a prompt by @rauko-is-a-free-elf and I loved it! I hope you had a good time reading that giant schmoop of fluff, and here’s my dear taglist: @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ladywaywarddsc @zoerayne2426 @hellfire37 @3dg310rdsupreme @thekidsmaybealright @impulsivedandelion @galaxy-charm I think that’s about it. If I’m missing anyone, I’m so sorry, but I keep forgetting to update my damn taglist. I’ll do it soon!!! Bye, and have a nice day!

~ Sheya

[aileruaa]

zetaflash: a first date?

hellooo i’m slowly getting to requests because I’ve been really busy! I never expected to receive so many requests and prompts LOL. I’m trying to fill them in accordance with Zetaflash week so let’s hope I can keep this up haha.

*

Bringing Bart to an aquarium for a first date was equal parts endearing and absolutely exhausting.

It just so happened that a couple of days ago, Eduardo’s father had received two complimentary tickets to the Central City Aquarium from a generous patron of the Metahuman Youth Center. He couldn’t go due to an influx of work, so he left them on Ed’s desk for his son to use.

“What are these?” Bart asked, picking up the tickets. He’d come over for video games and good company when the shiny tickets caught his eye.

“Oh, just tickets to the aquarium in Central City. You know, the huge tourist trap?” Ed replied, throwing his backpack onto the bed.

“Tourist trap or not, I’ve never been to an aquarium.” Bart sighed dreamily. He put the tickets down. “It seems crash.”

“Get out of here. Never?” Ed’s eyes widened. He wasn’t planning on going, because he had been there on a couple of school trips already, and it wasn’t exciting past a certain age.

“Well, I’ve been to Atlantis on a couple missions but I wasn’t allowed to leave the Bio-Ship ‘cause my body wasn’t suited for the depths or whatever.” Bart crossed his arms. “Lagoon Boy, M’Gann, and Kaldur got to swim around and all I was allowed to do was to keep watch.”

“That was probably for the best, dude. The pressure at those depths is probably insane.” Ed chuckled, picking up the tickets. Bart had already situated himself on his beanbag, fiddling with the controls. While Bart messed around with the settings, Ed realized this was the perfect opportunity to get Bart alone on a date, with little to no interruptions. He’d been dancing around the idea for a while, but he never had the time or the means to act on the feelings that had been budding in his chest for months, now. And while he wasn’t entirely confident that Bart felt the same way, their interactions definitely felt more than friendly at times. This was the golden opportunity to figure out if Bart had felt the same way- and he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Do you…want to go?”

*

The answer, of course, was a quick and enthusiastic yes. And just like that, their first real date outside of mission stakeouts and group hangouts was at the Central City Aquarium.

They were greeted by a big array of tropical fish as they entered. Bart was already on cloud nine, and they hadn’t even explored the place properly. As they passed by various penguins, eels, and crabs, Bart made sure to give each and every animal an energetic greeting and a proper look-over. He laughed and cheered at the various tricks displayed at the sea lion show, gleefully mentioning the time Garfield beat up Condiment King as a sea lion. He pat the turtles gently and commented sarcastically on their slow speed. He imitated the guppies’ facial expressions by bringing his cheeks together and puckering his lips. He imitated the penguins’ strange waddling, and all the while Ed couldn’t help but laugh at how silly Bart looked- and how endearing it all was.

“Hey, do you think the dolphins like being in the tanks?” Bart knocked on the glass as they passed the bottle-nosed dolphins. They were on their way to the special Underwater Beauties exhibit, but they kept getting sidetracked by Bart’s inability to walk past anything without making a comment. Ed grabbed his hand and guided him away from the glass, noticing the dolphin swimming away.

“No, but they probably don’t appreciate the tapping, either.” he said, pointing to the “DO NOT KNOCK ON THE GLASS” sign that Bart had overlooked.

“It’s nice to look at them and all, but I can’t imagine it’s super ethical.” Bart tapped on his chin thoughtfully, then turned to Ed with a mischievous grin.

“Let’s break them out. Be my lookout.”

“What? No.”

“Y’know, Prison Break-style? With your powers and mine, we can release them back into the wild. You and I can be the Robin Hoods of the dolphin world.”

“Bart, we are not-“ Ed lowered his voice, glancing around to see if any security guards were listening. “We are not stealing these dolphins from the tank.”

“Why not? Look at them, they’re too smart to be stuck in these tiny tanks.” Bart pouted.

“Even if we could somehow get into the tanks, they weigh like, 200 pounds. I can barely bench 180.” Ed rolled his eyes. “Plus, they’ve been bred in captivity way too long to be released back into the wild at this point.”

Bart sighed. “True.”

They passed by the dolphin exhibit into the stingray exhibit, where a group of children were sticking their hands in the water to touch the stingrays.

“Can we go do that?” Bart’s eyes lit up excitedly. Ed shrugged in agreement, but Bart didn’t even wait for his reaction to zoom to the station and plant himself next to a couple of elementary schoolers who had their hands in the tank.

“How do you do this? Do you just stick your hand in?” Bart asked the girl next to him. The girl giggled at Bart’s childlike curiosity.

“Yeah! They’re like dogs and they love being pet! But you have to be real still, or else they won’t come to you.”

“Oh man, I don’t know if I can be still enough for them to come to me.” Bart rolled up his sleeves and carefully dunked his hand into the water, waiting for one of the many gray stingrays to come. Ed walked over to Bart; he didn’t want to touch the stingrays but it was funny to watch them actively avoid Bart’s hand and swerve around to be pet by the younger children.

“You’ve gotta be still, hermano.” Ed said, leaning down.

“I am!” Bart’s vibrations made ripples in the water, repelling the stingrays.

“That’s not still,” The girl pointed out. Ed couldn’t help but laugh at Bart’s consternation.

“Stiller than that.” Ed rolled up his own sleeve and put his hand over Bart’s to calm the speedster’s shaky hand motion. As soon as Bart calmed his hand, Ed retracted his, not wanting to linger for more than he should have. He didn’t notice Bart’s ears turning red, however, because the moment Bart’s hand stilled, a stingray meandered its way underneath Bart’s palm to be pet. Bart’s smile widened and he stroked the stingray carefully.

“Finally!” he said.

“See, you just had to be a little patient.” Ed nodded.

“Ugh, but it’s all slimy and wet. Not the most pleasant sensation.” Bart got up with a grimace, quickly wiping his hand on his jeans.

“Makes sense, no?” Ed followed suit. But Bart was already on his way to the piranha area, attention grabbed by the “FEED ME” signs.

“Dude, I’ve always wanted to feed piranhas!” Bart said, grabbing a handful of piranha food and looming over the tank.

“Wait, be careful!” Ed dashed over, realizing Bart was leaning a little too close into the tank for comfort. “They’ll bite-“

It was too late. Bart released the food into the water, and a bunch of piranhas jumped up. His hand was close enough for one lucky piranha to latch on. Bart yelped, shaking his hand to get the piranha off his finger.

“Jesus, Bart!” Ed gently brought Bart’s finger up to inspect the damage. He was bleeding, but the wound was already fixing itself. The nip was strong, but was no match for Bart’s accelerated healing. An employee came dashing over, and Bart hid his hand away to hide the fact that his accelerated healing was already doing its job. After a rushed excuse, the two made their way into the big archway of tropical fish separating the rest of the aquarium from the special exhibit.

“Man, you have to be more careful. That was a close one,” Ed sighed.

“Sorry. First time feeding piranhas, got a little too excited.” Bart grinned sheepishly. He glanced at the hand Ed was holding to get them out of the area, and Ed noticed too, detaching himself from Bart.

“Well, good thing you heal fast.” Ed coughed, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush.

“So, uh, what’s next on the map?” Bart asked, trying to dissipate the sudden bout of awkwardness.

“Oh, it’s-“ Ed stared at the map. “The special exhibit, straight ahead. You wanna save this for later, or go now?”

“Let’s just go now. I wanna see what’s so special about this special exhibit.”

*

The room was dark, and sparsely filled- this was the part of the aquarium where patrons had to pay extra, and therefore it was a lot quieter than the other touristy areas. It was for good reason, however; it was a smaller room, but it was well-maintained and was truly magnificent. The luminescence from the jellyfish barely lit up the dim area, but it was enough for Ed to see Bart’s awe-filled reaction. They were surrounded by colorful, lit-up ocean creatures on all sides, and the otherwise pitch-dark room was filled with beautiful organisms. Bart’s jaw hung slack, soaking up the visuals.

“Do you like it?” Ed asked carefully, confused at Bart’s silence.

“Like it? Dude, this is so crash!” Bart exclaimed, piping down when an old woman shushed him angrily. He turned back to the tanks surrounding them. “They’re the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve seen prettier things,” Ed murmured under his breath, staring at Bart’s dimly-lit profile. He’d seen this a couple of times already, so the magic was lost on him- but to Bart, this was a one-of-a-kind experience. And watching his crush look up at the colorful jellyfish was another experience altogether.

“Like what?” Bart asked, turning. He hadn’t expected Bart to hear.

Ed wanted so badly to respond truthfully, to say, “You. You’re such a sight for sore eyes.” But he was just a teenager with no smooth moves or confidence in him whatsoever, so he responded with a simple, “Just…some things.”

Bart smiled. “Come to think of it, I think I’ve seen prettier things, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you.” Bart poked his finger into Ed’s chest playfully.

Ed raised his eyebrows, surprised as all Hell at Bart’s forwardness.

“P-pretty-“ he sputtered.

“I guess pretty’s not the right word, huh?” Bart said. “Handsome? Guapo, as Jaime puts it?”

“Wait, hold up.” Ed waved his hand in front of him, flustered. “I…”

“Oh.” Bart’s face fell; Ed could tell even in the darkness. “Sorry, I thought-“

“No, you’re not-“

“I just thought that-“

“I’m serious, you’re-“

“That maybe you felt the same way-“

“I wasn’t- wait, what?”

Bart looked up sheepishly. “I don’t know, I thought we had something going on and I wasn’t ever sure until you asked me to go to the aquarium. I thought this was a date. That you felt the same way about me.”

Ed opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Sorry, I’m making things weird, aren’t I? Let’s just pretend-“

“No, it is!” Ed grabbed Bart’s hand for the third time that day, this time with more force. “A-and you’re right. I do feel the same way.”

“Really?” Bart perked up again, relieved.

“Yeah. I just didn’t know if I could call this a date, or if you ever felt the same, ‘cause, y’know.”

“What?”

“You’re just super friendly with everyone.” Ed shrugged.

Bart huffed. “But I thought I made it obvious that I liked you. I gave you half of my giant cookie the other day!”

“I…didn’t know that was supposed to be a sign that you liked me.”

“Well, it was.”

“Now we know.” Ed smiled. This time, he didn’t let go of Bart’s hand; rather, he laced their fingers together.

“Yeah.”

The two observed the jellyfish for a few more moments before Bart got restless again.

“Ah, well, this was crash, but I kinda wanna get back to the piranhas for biting me.” Bart tugged on Ed’s hand. “Come with?

Ed laughed. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

[omg-snakes]

Hey! I just found your blog, and I was hoping you could help me out? I've never owned a snake, and I'm really interested in getting one. I read black rat snakes are a good place to start, but I was hoping for an opinion from someone who actually owns snakes. Not just the breeders thoughts and articles of "easy snakes" are a little iffy. Look forward to any and all advice on the matter. Thank you!

Hi there!

I do keep black rat snakes and while they’re fairly bombproof in terms of care they get fairly large, have a habit of musking for no apparent reason, and can be a bit on the “eat now and ask questions later” side of things. If you want a very large colubrid that wipes burning-plastic-popcorn-scented goo on you from their butt and sometimes tries to eat you, then yes, a black rat snake might be the snake for you!

Non-corn North American rat snakes in general will need a lot more space than a corn snake, more climbing opportunities, more enrichment, more time spent cleaning poo from of places you didn’t think a snake could get poo, more security as they’re VERY smart and quickly learn escape routes, and they don’t appreciate handling as much as their more docile captive-bred corn snake cousins. While they certainly can be a sweet pet and/or a gorgeous display animal and they will show off given the proper enclosure, you can’t always predict their temperament. I’ve had four captive bred and two wild caught black rat snakes, and the wild-caught were the most handleable. I currently have three captive-bred 2-year-old siblings and one is very sweet, one is somewhat shy, and one will devour anything that moves, looks like it might move soon, or may have moved at any point in the relative past. They’re just like that.

If you want the easiest beginner snake, corn snakes are a bit smaller, less likely to musk and less stinky when they do, come in a wide variety of color morphs, and though they will certainly use every inch of space you give them they don’t require huge enclosures as adults. There are anecdotal reports of black rat snakes hitting 7 feet long, but a corn snake will usually top out at 5.

I don’t want to scare you off from rat snakes, but if you’re new to keeping reptiles they can be a challenge and not everybody wants that big commitment right out of the gate. Your snake will be around for a long time with proper care and upkeep, so think about your future and how your snake will fit into your life. Weigh the pros and cons and decide what snake is going to be the best fit for you now, in five years, and in fifteen years! If you’ve really got your heart set on a black rat snake after all of this and you’ve got the space and resources, then go for it!

I’m sure that you’ll make the best choice for you and I wish you the very best as you explore options!

[bufomancer]

How Can We Do Better By Pacman Frogs?

Pacman frogs (genus Ceratophrys) are one of the most common pet frogs, and for good reason! They’re large, personable frogs that come in a wide variety of morphs and can live up to 10 years. There are eight species in the genus, though only three are common in captivity (C. cranwelli, C. ornata, C. cornuta), as well as a hybrid of C. cranwelli and C. cornuta usually labelled as a “fantasy pacman frog.” Occasionally you may see some of the other species for sale, but not nearly as often. This article focuses on the three most common species of pacman frog, excluding the hybrids.

This article is not intended to be used as a care sheet. Please do further research of your own to figure out the best way to care for your pet pacman frog. 

Visual differences between the three common pet pacman frogs, plus the ‘fantasy’ hybrid (source)

Unfortunately, in my experience, out of all the common pet frogs, pacman frogs seem to suffer the most from minimalistic husbandry practices. Perhaps this is due to their reputation as ‘pet rocks’- they are nocturnal sit-and-wait predators, so keepers are unlikely to see them out and about during the day. A common sight in pacman frog groups and forums is a bin or tank of no more than 10 gallons, with just some dirt, a heat mat, and a large water dish. But is that really the best we can do for them?

An example of a fairly typical 10 gallon setup for a pacman frog. (source)

In order to answer that question, we’ll first need to delve into their lives in the wild.

In the wild, the ranges of cranwelli, cornuta, and ornata are for the most part separate. Cranwelli is found in the dry chaco region, which includes parts of Argentina, Paraguay, Bolivia, and Brazil. Ornata is found in Argentina and Uruguay, ranging to the coast. Cornuta is found much further north and has the largest range, including Brazil, French Guiana, Suriname, Colombia, Peru, and Bolivia. There’s some possible overlap between cranwelli and ornata in Argentina.

Comparisons from Berkeley Mapper of pacman frog distribution. Orange is range as listed by the IUCN, and the blue dots are amphibiaweb records of collection sites.

Most care sheets and keepers treat these species as interchangeable as far as care requirements, but I’m a little more skeptical. Let’s go species by species through habitat information! 

Ceratophrys cranwelli

The most common species of pacman frog lives in the hot, semiarid Gran Chaco region, which contains mainly dry thorn forests, savannas, and low hardwood forests. Much of the water is seasonal, but there are two permanent rivers. When it’s hot and dry, cranwelli will burrow into the soil and grow a protective layer of skin, then aestivate until the climate becomes more suitable for them again. Soil is primarily sand and clay-based. Average temperatures across the region range from 60-85 F, with average humidity ranging from 50-75%. 

One of the types of habitat in the Gran Chaco in Paraguay (source)

Ceratophrys ornata

These guys live in the Pampas region of Argentina, in subtropical grasslands and seasonal wetlands. Vegetation is primarily grasses and shrubs with few trees. Humidity seems to stay around 70-80% on average. The yearly average temperature is just around 65F, with average lows around 55 and average highs around 75. Soil is described as fertile. The frogs are primarily found around the bodies of water where they breed.

Temperature information for three locations in the Pampas region

A view of the Pampas (source)

Ceratophrys cornuta

The third of the common pet pacman frog species is found in the Amazon rainforest and the Amazon basin. The yearly average temperature is around 77 F but can reach up to the 90s during the day and down to the upper 60s/lower 70s at night. Humidity in the amazon rainforest averages 77% in the dry season and 88% in the wet season, according to the WWF. One study on the biology of cornuta cites the forests where they live as either terra firma or inundated forest and the soil asloam mixed with silt and/or clay. Individuals were usually found partially burrowed under leaf litter, with their backs near roots or logs. They mostly moved around during nights when there had been rainfall in the previous 24 hours. 

In my opinion, the differences in habitat between the three species indicates that captive Ceratophrys frogs should be kept in somewhat different conditions in captivity as well. Cornuta would likely do well with plenty of leaf litter to burrow into, and seems to like the highest humidity of the three. Cranwelli seems to need the least humidity, and would likely appreciate some plant or wood cover, such as scrub vegetation. Ornata seems to need higher humidity than cranwelli, but perhaps not as high as cornuta. Their primary vegetation in the wild are grasses, so it would be recommended to mimic that in terraria. The different species may do better at different temperatures as well. I would recommend doing further research on your own on temperatures in their native habitats before deciding what temperature to keep your own pacman frog at.

In general, the small terrariums pacman frogs are typically kept in are inadequate. While a 10 gallon may be fine for growing out a young baby, many of whom are irregular eaters until adulthood, These frogs can grow anywhere from 2-6 inches, possibly more, depending on species and gender. I recommend a minimum of a 20 long (footprint of 360sq in) for male pacman frogs and a 40 breeder (footprint of 640sq in) for female pacman frogs. Of course, you can always go larger- I keep my male ornata in a 40 breeder and I have never felt the space was wasted.

All pacman frogs share some basic needs: enough substrate to burrow all the way into, a large water dish that they can soak their entire body in, cover of some sort be it hides or plants, a heat gradient, and access to UVB.

Most keepers recommend a heat mat taped to the side of the tank for providing supplemental heat. You should never use a heat mat on the bottom of the tank as pacman frogs will burrow to cool themselves down when it gets too hot. Overhead heat would be ideal, and there are many ways to go about that, each with its own pros and cons. Unless your house is particularly cold, your frog should be fine with a nighttime temperature drop down to the mid 60s/lower 70s.

UVB supplementation is controversial in the herp hobby for many species, and pacman frogs are no exception. They may be nocturnal, but that only means they are primarily active at night and  does not preclude them from being exposed to sunlight. I would consider them to be a part of Ferguson Zone 1 as outlined in Ferguson et al. (2010). Animals in this zone are cryptic baskers, typically crepuscular or nocturnal. They would not need high levels of UVB, but appropriate use of a low output UV bulb is unlikely to be harmful provided the frog is able to avoid the light should they choose. I personally use a reptisun T8 5.0, but any light with a similar output used at the manufacturer recommended distance should be safe. Make sure your pacman frog is able to hide from the light if they want to by providing them with hides, plants, pieces of wood, etc.

Ultimately, we can do better by pacman frogs by simply treating them like more than pet rocks. Give them space to move around, do research into the native habitat of the species you own and do your best to mimic it in your terrarium. Feed them a variety of foods - these guys can and do eat almost anything from ants to other frogs and reptiles. Give them more than just dirt and a water dish. Make sure to only purchase captive-bred individuals. These frogs will never race around their tank or be able to be kept happily with other frogs, and you may almost never see them move during the day, but that doesn’t mean they don’t use their space in their own way. 

The way I see it, you can either provide space and enrichment that they might not use, or you can deprive them of space and enrichment that they may benefit from. I think the former is preferable to the latter. 

Sources, References, and Further Reading

Cranwelli

https://www.britannica.com/place/Gran-Chaco/

https://www.iucnredlist.org/species/56338/11464257

http://www.faunaparaguay.com/ceratophryscranwelli.html

Ornata

https://www.britannica.com/place/the-Pampas

https://www.iucnredlist.org/species/56340/11464790

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Climatic_regions_of_Argentina#Statistics_for_selected_locations_5

Cornuta

https://galapagosinsiders.com/travel-blog/climate-weather-amazon-rainforest-temperatures/

https://www.jstor.org/stable/3892875?seq=1

https://www.iucnredlist.org/species/56337/11464093#habitat-ecology

https://wwf.panda.org/knowledge_hub/where_we_work/amazon/about_the_amazon/

General

https://bioone.org/journals/south-american-journal-of-herpetology/volume-9/issue-2/SAJH-D-14-00008.1/On-the-Diet-of-the-Frogs-of-the-Ceratophryidae/10.2994/SAJH-D-14-00008.1.short

https://www.jzar.org/jzar/article/view/150

[fangsandforests]

Is a Cave Gecko the Right Pet for You?

The leopard gecko has an evil cousin. Or at least that’s what comes to mind when you first set eyes on the elusive cave gecko. 

But cave geckos have very different care requirements than leopard geckos, and we’re still learning about how to replicate their natural habitat in captivity. Also unlike leopard geckos, cave geckos are not very personable. I’ll touch on all this more in this post, but the bottom line is, cave geckos are not at all like leopard geckos! 

There are several species that fall under the cave gecko umbrella, and though they have similar care requirements, I’m going to focus on the Hainen cave gecko (Goniurosaurus hainensis). This is the species that’s most accessible, and you’re more likely to find them captive-bred. So let’s take a look at some pros and cons of caring for these guys. 

The photos below are of my cave gecko, Spyro. Please keep in mind that he is a rescue, and some of the photos were taken during treatments for stuck shed and while he was still a little underweight. These days, he’s shedding just fine and doing well!

They’re private animals

Cave geckos simply do not like to be bothered. End of story. Their eyes are very sensitive to light, and they will immediately try to scurry into a dark area if they’re exposed to it. If you want to see them out and about, you’ll have to wait till the room is dark. Even then, they may catch sight of you and run and hide. 

Now, I’ve heard that captive-bred cave geckos are a bit more tolerant of handling. My cave gecko, Spyro, is a rescue, so I have no idea whether he was wild-caught or captive-bred. He definitely does not want to be handled, but he has never bitten me either. And I had to handle him frequently when I first got him in order to free him of some stuck shed. So the good news is that, if you do need to handle a cave gecko, they’re not aggressive animals. But they will likely try to get away from you!

You should expect that whatever cave gecko you choose will want to stay completely hidden during the day, typically in a secure hide. I’d also recommend keeping them on a loose substrate (I use Dig-It from Josh’s Frogs), since they like to dig down into the moist soil. 

This is probably not a good pet for you if you want an animal you can see often and interact with. A cave gecko you don’t see is a happy cave gecko! 

They’re picky eaters

Let me just say this upfront: the only feeder insects my cave gecko will eat are dubia roaches. And every breeder/seller I’ve talked to that keeps these guys says that’s their go-to feeder. 

I have seen some evidence online of people feeding them crickets and mealworms. But, in my experience, they best way to feed a cave gecko is to put a couple of dusted small/medium dubia roaches in an escape-proof bowl. This way, you can ensure the gecko is eating. (For those wondering, I dust with Repashy Calcium Plus for most of Spyro’s feedings. I give him an undusted serving here and there, too.) 

They also don’t eat much. I feed my cave gecko about three times a week, and he often leaves a roach or two behind. I guess this is a good thing, because dubia roaches are a bit more expensive than other feeders! Fortunately, dubia roaches also grow slowly, so if you buy 100 small ones, you’ll probably be able to feed them all off before they get too big. 

There are parts of the world, including states in the U.S., where dubia roaches are illegal to buy, sell, and keep. In these areas, you’ll have to find another feeder for your cave gecko and hope it will eat that insect consistently! 

They’re clean

If you use natural substrate and decor, cleaning up after these guys is a breeze. Cave geckos are also great candidates for bioactive setups.

I can’t confirm that this is the case for all cave geckos, but Spyro has chosen a bathroom corner (much like a leopard gecko would do). So it’s super easy to spot clean his enclosure. Other than that, the only routine cleaning I do is keeping his water bowl filled with fresh water and cleaning and replenishing his food bowl. I used to give him soaks to help with shedding, but he no longer needs my help with that. 

They don’t require lighting or heating

Since this is a species that seems to actively avoid the light, they can do just fine without any kind of UV or other lighting. As long as you’ve got enough ambient lighting in the room for them to differentiate between night and day, you should be good to go. 

Now, I do think UV-B is beneficial to all geckos, even if they don’t spend much time under the light. If you do choose to use it, go with a light that’s intended for crepuscular species, like Arcadia’s Shadedweller. And make sure the animal has access to hiding places where it can be completely hidden from the light. 

When it comes to heat, keep in mind cave geckos are accustomed to hiding in cool areas. They come out of hiding at night, when temperatures are lower. Although it can get quite warm where they’re from, these guys purposely avoid those high temperatures. So your best bet is to keep ambient temperatures between the mid-60s and mid-70s. If you don’t have a means of keeping room temperatures from getting too hot for this species, consider a different pet.

Final words

If you’re okay with having a pet that you won’t see often but is also relatively low maintenance, you’ll probably enjoy having a cave gecko. 

Maybe you’re a night owl, in which case you’ll be able to spot this gecko out and about in the middle of the night. But if you’re asleep in the darkest hours, you can always set up a camera with some sort of night vision capability (most modern indoor monitoring cameras have this feature). I have done this before, and I can tell you that Spyro is incredibly active throughout the night! 

I can’t stress enough how important it is to research and talk with experienced keepers and breeders, too, especially if you’re thinking of getting an uncommon species like the cave gecko. Always do your homework! :) 

[dogtastictraining]

Pack Leader Pack Smeader

Some ideas get so ingrained in society that it can take a really long time to see that idea change.

In this case, it’s the alpha/pack leader theory, which has been debunked now over 20 years ago. 

Yes. 

TWENTY years ago! 

And I STILL see and hear those words on a day to day basis. 

Here’s the deal. In the 70s, a researcher named David Mech was studying adolescent male wolves in captivity. He noticed they would fight to have one leader of their pack, and from this observation he coined the alpha/pack leader idea. 

Almost 30 years later, in 1999, he published a paper correcting his original conclusions after he had studied actual wild wolves outside of captivity. He noticed that wild wolves have a more similar structure to our families, and actually a male and a female both are top. The elders are respected the way we respect our parents and grandparents, and that was no assertion of physical dominance to gain leadership. The reason for the fights in the original study is because they had a group of adolescent male wolves together that would not have naturally been together in the wild. 

However, despite the actual original person who coined the term telling us it’s not true, it is still SO prevalent! I cringe and cry inside when I see yet another person saying they are the pack leader or are showing their students how to be a pack leader. 

It is literally setting our dogs and our training methods back 20+ years.  🤦‍♀️  

And I instantly know they do not really understand dog behavior or training. 

  Unfortunately, the idea sounds good and seems to make sense if you don’t really understand what is happening. 

Why does your dog behave with one person and not another? Because dogs understand circumstance and situations, as do humans. 

If you weren’t allowed to eat cookies at home but were at a friend’s house where they were allowed to eat cookies, would you abide by the rules at home or the new rules at your friend’s house? 

Some percentage of you will say you’d still abide by your parents, but honestly most people would eat the cookies at their friends. Does that make these people stubborn or dominant or that parent less of a leader? No. You saw and opportunity and you took it. Your dog behaves better with the trainer/dog walker/friend that comes over that implements rules from the get-go. 

For example, when I work with student dogs I start training them from the minute I walk in the door. I NEVER pet dogs for jumping up on me. NEVER. Even if the family does not mind it. I immediately start working on sit or down or reward when they are calm... all while we are doing our initial evals or catching up on past weeks of training. 

So what starts to happen is when I come over to work with the dog, they are good.. they offer me a sit or a down, they do not jump, etc. Does that make me a better pack leader than you? No! It means I have a rule and I stuck to it and your dog learned that. 

And don’t humans do the same?? You know which is the pushover parent or boss that you can get more things out of who will always say yes. Does that make you dominant? No! It makes you an observant person with a history of rewards from the easier person! This is all your dog is doing. 

Why do some groups of dogs from different families follow each other? Not because of some hardwired genetic code of being a pack. Seriously. Your herding mix and lab and frenchie and poodle and whatever else are not syncing up as a freaking pack. 

Lots of breeds were not even bred to BE pack animals (not in the way that huskies and beagles/other hunting breeds are actually bred to work with other dogs). 

At the dog park dogs follow each other around because of fear of missing out and because don’t we all do that too?! The other day I stopped downtown to watch a ton of birds flying and a bunch of people stopped too to see what I was looking at. Haha Is it a pack mentality thing? No! It’s curiosity! 

Have you ever been somewhere where people were handing out free giveaways? Man when they first start people flock to them like flies on honey. And then more come to see what the crowd is about, and it steam rolls from there. Dogs are no different... they want to smell the good pee too, or sniff the new dog, or whatever else. 

Why does your dog pull? Not to be alpha, that’s for dang sure! Because dogs walk faster than we do. We are slow! Seriously, their fundamental gait is faster than a normal human’s pace. Also because the world is interesting and we don't out take them out enough to explore that world. And 1/3 of their brain is dedicated to scenting and they want to sniff! One third! And also because they do not naturally walk straight and our walks are straight as an arrow. Or they pull because you let them. If you ever, ever take walks forward while your dog is pulling, if you ever let them pull you to say hi to meet another dog, or pull over to sniff a tree or pee, then you are rewarding that behavior right then and every time. It is rewarded behavior that makes a behavior increase... not your dog's desire to be alpha. 

Why does your dog try to push his way out of the door or jump out of the car before released? Because he is excited for a walk and you are going slow. Because you let him do that 50% of the time when you are not paying attention or are tired. Because someone is your family lets him do that. Again, because he has a behavior history of being rewarded for that. Not because he is alpha and wants to go first. 

And again, don't we all do the same thing? Crowds of people push into stores at Black Friday to get inside first.. it is a competition for resources at its finest. Or, I naturally walk really fast and if I am behind a slower person and I am approaching a spot where I would get stuck behind them, I speed up and try to dart in before them so then I don't have to go slow. Does that make me an alpha? Probably. Haha JK. No, it's just I am busy and experience dictates that times in the past when I have been stuck behind slower people and have been trying to get somewhere, it was frustrating. So I am trying to avoid having that situation occur again. 

Your dog is doing no different. Again, we are slow, we stop to check our phones, we are talking, etc. and your dog wants to go go go! Or it's the first time they have been out all week and they want to go go go! They are not being rude intentionally, they are just being dogs. 

And yes we can have good manners at doorways and in cars... I teach that to all my dogs, but that is for good manners and safety, not because of a pack leader thing or alpha thing. 

Why does your dog have bad behavior at home? Because they are young, untrained or badly trained, and because what dogs want to do is vastly different than what we want them to do. 

Yes you should be a good leader for your dog by being the leader that anyone of us wants to see. 

You should be clear, consistent and fair. 

Those are the sorts of leaders we need more of, and it has nothing to do with your dog thinking you are part of his pack. 

News flash, he does not. 

You are not a dog. 

He knows you are not a dog. 

You are not his pack in any sense of what that would meant for a dog. 

You are a person. 

You are a person with a responsibility to train and guide your dog, and love them too. 

Many people can and do get some results with the pack leader/dominance-based style of training (dominance-based meaning that you are trying to establish yourself as the more dominant one), because if a dog has no rules and structure, then anyone implementing some rules will immediately be better than nothing. 

But I just want people to realize it has nothing to do with you being the pack leader or alpha. It is literally a made up concept that is proven incorrect over and over and over and over again. So many times in fact that it’s hard to believe it hasn’t gone away. Unfortunately, trainers like Cesar Milan have made it popular and will continue to perpetuate it for as long as his TV show airs. Before his TV show we were actually getting traction with getting that concept to die out, but now it is more prevalent than ever before. 

So, train your dogs. Be kind to them, be fair, and think about how it is from their perspective. Are you clear in what you are asking? Is everyone in the household on the same page? Are they being rewarded for their behavior intentionally or accidentally? This is mostly where people run into trouble. 

If your dog is doing a behavior that you are having trouble with or think that he/she is doing it because of being alpha, please message us to ask. I guarantee we can help you figure out what is really happening. :)

Becky Pesicka, CPDT-KA, CNWI is a certified professional dog trainer and a certified nose work instructor. She has been running Dogtastic Training since 2011 and has worked with students all over the country and world. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram @dogtastictraining​ for more training tips and dog conversation.