#another door to appreciate vessel vocals

[uruhasbubble-tea]

Fall For Me

The Love You Want

Another week another backing vocals post. The layering vocals in Rain is fun (e.g. the delay in 1:26). Also, the piano intro is so pretty, I don't have the opportunity to put all my attention into it when I hear Vessel's main vocals.

[thefandomlesbian]

WIP tag: thank you @scandinavian-punk for tagging me!!

Brace yourselves because I am about to word vomit on your screen—

(not including WIPs that are currently posted, since you can explore those at your leisure)

To Rule and Guide: The sequel to To Light and Guard, Lana and Mary Eunice go forward in their relationship, but they encounter hiccups along the way as old enemies rise, friends twist beyond recognition, and the church tries to call back the nun it released so recklessly.

Break Rank: John Laurens was shot down off of his horse and dragged away from the Battle of Combahee River, believed to be dead. A mutilated corpse was buried in his stead, but he awakens in a warm cabin to a middle-aged lesbian couple who nurse him back to health. Now disabled and with everyone believing he's dead, he has to try to make his way back up to New York, as there is only one person who will believe him.

Lead Me Astray: Spencer receives a diagnosis of malignant cancer behind his eyes, the first-line treatment being removal of both eyes. He quietly hands in his resignation to Strauss and earns a deal for medical retirement, and he intends to spend his remaining days setting things up to survive life alone as a blind man. However, when the team receives word of his decision to leave without telling any of them, Aaron hunts him down and demands answers. Convincing Spencer of his worth, both as a person and as a member of the BAU, is not easy, but it's necessary for the upcoming case they will face.

Like Minor Gods: Spencer lost a high-stakes bet with Derek. Now he's training for a triathlon. It's not exactly a fun time, seeing as his athleticism peaked when he was the basketball coach in high school, but with a little help from his unit chief, he may have a chance of crossing the finish line.

Shipwrecked Souls: After taking his leave from the BAU, Aaron struggles with Jack, who has developed increasingly concerning behavioral and psychological issues. Jack is riddled with anxiety and PTSD, and no matter what Aaron does to try to help, they wind up yelling at each other. Desperate for some help, he attends a seminar for parenting a troubled kid, where Spencer is surprisingly guest lecturing after earning his PhD in adolescent psychology. Aaron asks if Spencer will help tutor Jack—though Jack's failing grades are just the tip of the iceberg in regards to his current string of issues—and happily, Spencer agrees.

Singing While Rome Burns: After Foyet's escape from prison, Aaron has lost all of his coping skills. His family fell apart for his job, and he's apparently not even good at that anymore. He gets blackout drunk and wanders around lost in Rock Creek Park until he intends to call Rossi to come get him. Inadvertently, he calls Spencer instead. Spencer rescues him, and this act of mercy ignites a spark between them. But they walk a path ripe with trepidations, as Foyet is still on the move, Haley is busy settling the divorce, Strauss battles corporate challenges, and Spencer struggles to find where he fits in all of it with his new role in Aaron's life.

Spencer & Aaron: Dharma and Greg AU. Hotshot federal prosecutor Aaron Hotchner sees the most beautiful man he's ever met on the subway on his way to the office. He tries to go after him, but the doors slide closed, and he's left with a sense of longing—until he arrives at work to find the same man sitting on his desk. "You're Aaron Hotchner," he says. "You appeared in the Washington Post five months ago for putting away the Freeway Butcher. Your building security is weak. I was able to guess the passcode in two tries. I'm Spencer. I remember everything I read." On an impromptu first date, they recklessly decide to get married. On the days after, they bring together two incredibly different families and groups of friends, slowly teaching everyone that any relationship can work if there's enough love and compassion involved.

The Good Place: The Good Place AU. Corporate lawyer Aaron Hotchner was an asshole in life. In death, he awakens to find he's been placed in the Good Place by mistake. Partnered with his "soulmate," Spencer; a former nun, Emily, and her soulmate, Penelope; a spiritual vessel of knowledge, JJ; and two so-called angel-men, Dave and Derek, they find themselves dragged into a war which could challenge the very foundation the afterlife is built upon.

The Landscape After Cruelty: Spencer drives Aaron home from Quantico the day of Haley's death. Over the following days, he orchestrates everything from behind the scenes. He works with Jessica to care for Jack; he cooks meals for Aaron; he calls funeral homes to arrange services; he makes Aaron's appointments and then drags him to them by force. He makes himself indispensable. It only leaves Aaron wondering—why?

Insects in Amber: inspired by @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety Whumptober prompt, infection. The team has split to handle two different cases. Spencer finds a breakthrough in the case he works with Aaron, but Garcia is busy with the rest of the team, so they go with no coordinates and no warning. When Aaron gets into combat with the unsub and they both fall down the stairs, the chamber doors seal behind them, trapping them inside. The unsub is dead, his neck broken in the fall, and Aaron's femur is protruding from his body where he landed. He's in an agonizing amount of pain, and Spencer knows the statistics for infection of an open fracture are bleak at best. No one knows where they are. They only have the hope that the team will find them soon—or else there will only be one of them to rescue.

Call Me Home: Cordelia Goode has finally escaped the oppressive home of her mother and has landed a job at the local animal rescue, Starfish, where she becomes fast friends with the quirky woman who works dog side, Misty. As shelter drama picks up, they learn together how difficult saving lives can really be.

Minor Bird: Acclaimed pianist, Misty Day, has decided to step away from her career and take an early retirement. Amateur Cordelia Goode wants to find out why. When her teacher makes arrangements for her to meet Misty in person, she learns that soon, Misty will not be able to perform any longer. In a crunch for time and desperate to learn more, Cordelia begs for Misty to teach her. In the process, they grow closer together than either of them ever dreamed.

The Sister Act: Lana Winters witnessed a horrible crime and has been placed in witness protection in an abbey for her own safety. She repeatedly butts heads with the Mother Superior, Jude, as she struggles to survive the trauma of what she witnessed. With the help of Sister Mary Eunice, she begins to appreciate the quiet spirituality of the place. But criminals are still pursuing her, eager to silence her before she can testify.

I've Got Your Demons (They're Crying Out for Love): Lana Winters aids Briarcliff in the exorcism of Sister Mary Eunice. Both are pregnant from crimes committed against them and against God. Lana places her son up for adoption; Mary Eunice's daughter is stolen from her, dumped on hospital steps with no note by Monsignor Howard who will not be held accountable for his actions. When Mary Eunice is well enough, she leaves Briarcliff with Lana, desperate to reconnect with her daughter, but it's years before they catch up to young Billie Dean Howard, and they find that demons still continue to touch them at every turn.

Autumn Hands: Audrey saved Shelby's life, but she couldn't save her mutilated vocal cords, permanently damaged by her attempt on her own life. All sorts of trials await them—criminal, medical, social—as they try to look past their fraught history and come together as the sole survivors of Roanoke.

On the Pyre, Before the Hearth: Lana Winters gets lost in the Louisiana swamp after she tries to find herself in the wilderness. There, she encounters a lonely hermit woman who has spent the past decade living in solitude and subsisting off the land. A flood forces her and Misty into one another's company for several days, but when it's time for Lana to leave, she finds she doesn't want to life with Misty ever again. Misty has her own secrets and reasons for hiding, unbeknownst to Lana, who writes and publishes about her experience in the hope of drawing Misty out of the woods. She has no idea the ramifications of her actions.

That... Should be everything 😳😬😐 I'm tagging @reidology @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety @its-a-goode-day @honeyvenable and whoever else feels motivated to do it!

[pleasantlydecadentface-blog]

JUlY 4, 2019

JULY 4 2019 3:04am

It’s currently 3am as I sit in bed scrolling through my phone. Shocked that I’m awake considering i worked 12 hours today, but wide awake nonetheless. It’s one of those, too excited to sleep, nights- by excited I mean I have the day off tomorrow so my brain figures, stay up late, sleep in.

As I write this I can hear fireworks already going off outside, and all I can think of is how much I love this time of year, because, fireworks are dope. But yeah, I love it, and I love my little fireworks show that has shockingly survived the last few grueling years of gentrification my neighborhood has gone through. I’ll miss that if it ever leaves. Fireworks, and the hallelujah man- but that’s another story for another day.

Anyway as I sit here, having this great moment of serenity, it dawns on me WHY I have the day off tomorrow. WHY I have a front row seat of fireworks and the lookouts on the roof right now. July 4th. Independence Day. The day to appreciate this beautiful land of the free. I think of the first time I lit sparklers in my grandpas back yard, of the fireworks I saw from the GWB with my dad one year, of Macy's giant firework spectacular (two day sale), and I realize- wow this is kind of fucked up! Should I celebrate this country right now? Should I ever have? Should I be cheering while its’ president, aka the physically manifested form of the Human Papillomavirus, is tweeting about the human beings he has locked up in cages & drinking out of toilets? And how if they’re SOOoOo mad about that maybe they shouldn’t have come here anyway? Should I be celebrating today, after learning about the 16th St. Baptist Church shooting just last night in a documentary (4 Little Girls)?

My great grandfather came over here from Scotland, his wife from Ireland. They came here, worked hard, had my grandpa etc. etc. My grandmothers are both Puerto Rican. My favorite Puerto Ricans to exist, in fact. Suffice to say my family didn’t come here on the Santa Maria. They came, they worked HARD, took care of their families, never mind how difficult it was at times. American dream come true right?? According to HPV, no, not right, WRONG! You cant come here. what hypocrisy that this man whose own grandfather scurried over here as a young man to avoid serving in the military in Germany and then in his later years had to beg america not to deport him, would say, nah, nope, you guys ruin this place, don’t come here.

So no, I decided. I’m not celebrating. I felt like I had made some huge revelation, like WOW this guy is the WORST and he is tainting this beautiful place with his twitter and existence. He’s creating this hate and he’s such a monster. Then I realized. I don’t think he did. The horrible headlines I see every now and then could easily have been pulled from a paper in the 60s. Here I was thinking, wow how awful trump must be to have ruined something so beautiful. But he didn’t start this. I often catch myself day dreaming about Obama and thinking that before DT we had it good. That were were in some golden age where we all loved each other and we got along and that he ruined that. The thing i realize now is- the hate has always been there. The same things that were happening 50+ years ago are happening today. There’s a sickness in this country and Trump was just the vessel for it. This isn’t something he created. Its something he fanned, and coddled, and fed with false dreams and wild rhetoric. This HATE is a plague. trump is the rat.

America leads the world in a few things. Military spending, arms exports, BILLIONAIRES, INCARCERATION, income inequality, and poverty. Not education. Not being "great". America has about 4.4% of the worlds population, and 22% of the worlds prisoners. And I don’t need to get into the racial statistics on that one. We should be angry.

How can we celebrate ANYTHING here without acknowledging it’s massive failures. Will we forget about the children in camps right now? The families that were ripped apart right here. We don’t talk about the past enough and how all of our mistakes as a country were covered up with pretty bandaids until new mistakes came along and the pain was so fresh we forgot about the old ones? How? Could it be because here in America, we only "achieve" anything if it affects affluent white men? When were we great? We exist as a country cause white dudes didn’t want to pay taxes.

We need to be angry and we need to realize that whenever this disgusting presidency ends- the hate isn’t going to go with it. We wont be able to breathe a sigh of relief. It cant be enough that we celebrate the freedom we have only because we fly under the radar. Why can I have clean water in a public water fountain in a city park when people in Flint don’t even have it in their homes? Why am I comfortable in a bed right now while kids are sleeping on concrete. Why am I not scared someone is going to knock on my door and tell me I need to leave. What right do I have to be happy about this? I cant remember a time where i was scared a cop might shoot me. ever. That is reality for like 25% of our population.

I don’t want to seem jaded, or to take away from the beauty I’ve been privileged enough to witness in my lifetime. I do celebrate the beautiful things about this country. The culture, the passion, the LOVE and ferocity with which we fight for all of that. The marches, the solidarity, the languages, the opportunities my family had when they weren’t turned away. I celebrate the stories I hear and see every day that might make me a published writer someday. I celebrate the warm feeling I get when I see vocal allies. I celebrate the rights i have as a woman, that women in other countries may never see. that is not lost to me. and i am grateful, and i celebrate.     - but i do so with a bitter taste in my mouth. Because i realize that everything I am happy for here, had to be fought for, it was never given to me by any founders.

I hope one day I see and experience that unadulterated kind of celebration though. I firmly believe that we will.

[brianmight]

SAIL ACROSS THE SEA. //   Maylor Titanic!AU (part 2/?)

- where to, mr? - to the stars.

[ also posted on AO3! ]

( @eternallystarlight )

10 april, 1912. Southampton. The ship of dreams is about to commence on its long-awaited journey — the voyage of a lifetime, if the papers are not mistaken. The grandiose sight of the vessel in the harbour is plenty to instil awe in all who parade around the harbour, either as future passengers or people who are about to bid their loved ones farewell. Two separate worlds mingle upon the crowded docks — the one of automobiles and the one of wooden carts; the one of many suitcases and the one of few; the one of riches and the one of rags. One belongs to an affluent heir, the other to a wandering street musician. Their backgrounds couldn’t clash more, but that won’t refrain fate from unifying them on the unsinkable RMS Titanic.

Crossing the gangway towards the first class entrance, Roger could already foretell that the irritated tension between him and his fiancée would only evolve into a more hostile form during the journey. If they weren't able to spend one week together on a ship without disagreement, then how on Earth were they supposed to establish a loving marriage? She promenaded alongside him, a baby blue parasol resting on her shoulder next to a luxurious hat, and emotionlessly peeked over the railing at the waves beneath her feet as if challenging the very ocean to a duel.

When he had offered his hand to help her exit the car, Margaret had stared at it like the gesture was the most offensive movement he could possibly have made, knowing he was only being polite because his father had urged him to. God, how he abhorred her! Flawless on the outside, with pearly skin, chocolate hair and gentle facial features, yet so rotten on the inside with vanity. The memory of meeting her for the first time was unfortunately imprinted on the back of his mind: an angelic appearance that'd almost made him reconsider his opinion on arranged marriage, but all was ruined when she parted her lips to give a smug remark on the length of his hair. Roger deliberately hadn't cut it since, purely to get more under her skin as that was the only way he could get at least a little bit of amusement from his engagement.

He cast a quick nod at the steward by the door, who welcomed the passengers onto the Titanic with a proud smile. Certainly, the vessel was something to be proud of, but Roger, having grown up amongst riches and lavish mansions, was not overly impressed. It was a ship, nothing more: a ferry to a new life that awaited him in America. Married life. A shudder ran across his spine at the mere thought of it.

The interior of the ship was majestic enough to match its grandiose exterior. White walls and tiles radiated the illusion that the entrance hall was even more spacious, and the extravagant patterns of art nouveau added a contemporary flair. Through modern lifts, they were guided to their quarters. Roger had one suite with his father and his younger sister Clare, while the neighbouring one was occupied by Margaret and her parents— unfortunately, their two quarters were directly connected through a shared living area. Smacking the door wide open with more force than necessary, Roger entered the suite along with his relatives, only to realize that its appearance completely mirrored that of the hallway, albeit a bit more old-fashioned: panels of the finest cherry wood, scarlet-draped curtains around the beds, their luggage already placed neatly on the carpet floor. Servants were rushing around, installing several paintings of the Taylors’ personal collection and adding some final ornaments in the shape of vibrant flowers.

The young man took the sight in with a hint of suspicion. They shouldn't be able to afford such luxury. Not according to his father's many sermons on their debts. The fact that he was now standing in a fully furnished suite could only mean that their final coins had been smashed into the assurance that their voyage would be just another facade to conceal the family's financial downfall. It wasn’t the lavishness that he loathed— it was the pretentious nature of his loving father, who first tumbled flat on his face and now sought to ascend again through his son, too self-satisfied to do as little as admitting his own fatal blunders. A glare was fired right into the patriarch's back, and Roger was about to deliver a snarky remark when the door opened brusquely.

The person he least wished to have around walked in as if she owned the entire place, followed by two maids and the same crew member that'd fulfilled the role of welcoming committee by his lone self. Margaret cast a quick glance around the suite, arriving at the conclusion that it looked precisely the same as hers apart from the personal decorations, and voiced her thoughts to no one in particular. “Did you see those poor beggars of third class enter? I do hope we won't get bothered by any of them.” None seemed to respond physically to the remark, but Roger noticed that one of the maids, who was carefully unpacking an oval mirror, slightly tensed up — if she hadn’t been here in service, third class would have been her only option to travel across the Atlantic. Certainly, the remark had been a harsh kick to her shins, which would leave an aching bruise at best.

He knew it would be best for all their sakes to leave Margaret’s comment for what it was, but the steward lacked the experience and immediately came to reassure her. “Oh, no miss. The upper decks cannot be accessed from below.” Something in his voice revealed that he wasn't referring to “below” in the spatial sense, but the social one. No way to work oneself up; no way to break the barriers. Margaret exhaled with relief, her attention suddenly engaged by an adorned vase full of amber chrysanthemums, which matched the golden piece of jewellery around her elegant neck. “Thank God— I would hate to have to walk among those folk all day long. Imagine the lice!” Her shrill voice rose with each syllable to the point where Roger was tempted to shush her with a finger to the lips. “Lice can jump rather far, can't they?” he muttered nonchalantly, completely unaware if the reply was factually correct in any way, and added the following upon seeing his fiancée’s wide eyes: “probably as far as two entire decks.” In the silence that followed, a dropped needle would have been more deafening than a gunshot. Clare intervened before a full quarrel was able to burst loose, noticing the obviously upset tinge upon Margaret's facial features. “Oh Rog, will you accompany me outside? I’d love to be there when the ship departs,” she admitted with a beam gracing her youthful face, eagerly clutching to her brother's arm while awaiting his reply in anticipation. Roger suppressed a roll of the eyes for the sake of his sister, whom he hated to disappoint, and gave her an affirmative nod. “Sure, Clare. I could use some fresh air.” Before anyone else grasped the opportunity to tag along, he buttoned his woollen overcoat and opened the door, the freedom of the hallway being a more than welcome shift in atmosphere.

—

Two bunk beds. Four suitcases. Four strangers who'd been fortunate enough to scrape enough money together to afford four individual boarding passes. The cabin was compact, unadorned and barely wide enough for two people to pass each other without backs touching. Brian wouldn't complain— not as long he had basic facilities such as a mattress and running water. It was preferable to sleeping on the streets of London during cold winter nights, which he had endured with great difficulty. Snow would stab his shivering limbs without a grain of mercy as the wind would rob what little warmth he could amass. Fingers would be too frozen for strumming, vocal folds too weak for singing. It was during those moments that Brian was fully convinced that hell was not built upon fire, but ice. The only consolation to his wretched condition would arrive when he glanced upwards and noticed celestial smiles of solace. Those immortal stars, their perpetual presence in combination with the light they omitted, brought hope like no mortal ever could. Miserable circumstances made one appreciate little, and right there, on the renowned RMS, Brian felt like a pampered duke.

The guitarist sat on his bed in relative peace as the three roommates had each left the cabin earlier, presumably to explore the enormous vessel or to get their hands on some fresh ocean air. On his lap lay a leather-bound notebook wide-open. Its old pages had turned a pale shade of yellow, its spine was cracked, and various loose sheets had been added as if they embodied several afterthoughts on the penned down words. The book was an extension of his mind; a fountain of lyrics, ideas, and experiences which value-wise could only be outranked by the wooden instrument that slept next to him on the sheets, still in its casket. A sigh escaped through his chapped lips as he casually browsed through the journal, allowing his eyes to relive all the memories that clung to the paper. Some words were concealed underneath dirt stains or had turned simply unreadable due to their pencil streaks being smudged. Among the randomly scribbled thoughts were several entries brimming with facts of mathematics and physics, which he'd overheard on the streets or read in some crumpled newspaper. A fascination for those sciences had emerged at the moment he'd learnt to read, and they'd never let him go since. There was the urge to explore and explain the inexplicable, to find any reasoning behind the unknown, to alleviate his own ignorance. Fingertips traced the syllables of songs that no one would hear, no one but the composer himself. Here the ship sailed out into the blue and sunny morn. The sweetest sight ever seen.

A long-haired head emerged from behind the cabin door — it belonged to a fellow named John who'd claimed the bed above his. “Heard we're about to leave any second now. You don't want to miss this,” was assumed with a promising twinkle in his eyes as he nodded upwards, indicating the outside decks and the unique view it would provide. Indeed, one final honk announced the vessel's long-awaited departure. After safely storing his guitar case underneath the bed, Brian followed his roommate through the narrow halls.

When they arrived on the Shelter Deck, many passengers had already gathered around the ship's railings to bid their loved ones farewell, who were situated on the docks below. Brian had no one to say goodbye to, yet joined in waving at the horde of people, suddenly so full of elation that he couldn't help but bare his teeth into a wide grin. This was truly happening. He was at the gates of a brand new tale of which the famous voyage was only the prologue. The heads among the crowd below, with their handkerchiefs and shouts of adieu, were but ants gazing at a gigantic ark that would redeem past lives and deliver its passengers to a continent of unlimited opportunities. Brian felt the vessel beneath his feet stir, and then slowly come to life. Cheers became louder, resembling a tidal wave of noise that appeared to push the ship further into the ocean. A free seagull hovered by.

That was when his attention was completely absorbed by one particular figure on the upper promenade deck. A young man, staring almost melancholically at the shrinking harbour. Even with the vast distance between them, Brian could notice the air of frustration around the stranger. He thought nothing of it, assuming the guy might simply suffer from early seasickness, and was about to turn away when the other shifted his head slightly, causing their gazes to interlock for the briefest of moments. Brian couldn't blink. Neither could the other man. They were left in a clandestine staring dance, trying to figure out why either of them was unable to look away. Had he been standing any closer, the guitarist would have perceived the vanishing of the deep frown on the stranger's forehead the instant their eyes were introduced to each other. In reality, the moment could only have survived for mere seconds, but amidst the mass of cheering passengers that were solely focused on their ever-shortening connection with the mainland, the brief interval seemed to last an eternity.

“Do you think they're nobles?” John interrupted after following his roommate’s stare at the first class passengers, perceptive enough to see that Brian was glancing at one in particular yet not well enough acquainted with him to provide a teasing remark. “They look posh enough,” he further commented, warming his hands inside the pockets of his tweed jacket. Brian answered absently, now forced to blink and break eye contact with the faraway guy. “I haven't the faintest idea. Not exactly my sort of people.” “Because if they were you'd be up there too?” A shrug. “Perhaps, yeah.” The ends of John's lips turned upwards into an amused smile, not requiring words to convey a clear message: dream on. Fair enough, dreams were the only place where such a reality could ever exist. Maybe the moment Brian had shared with the first class stranger had indeed been mere imagination — a mirage of the most treacherous kind — but it certainly had been more than a king looking down upon a peasant.

[fgodestinyawakenings]

FGO Destiny Awakenings: Fuyuki Singularity Prologue pt.1

“If you're expecting prince charming to wake you, then I got bad news for you my friend." 

-- The robed figure to Ritsuka in the latter's dream

On top of the snowy mountain, there was a lone white dome-shaped building. Despite it was early morning, the dark clouds and snowstorm covered the blue sky. A pair of footsteps trod hurriedly against the snow towards the door.

The moment they were close, the door opened in their presence. Not wanting to lose any seconds, they made a quick dash into the entrance.

Once the door behind them closed, the pair were breathing heavily. The orange-haired girl wearing a white coat and black pleated skirt, whined while panting, “Oh… My god…. That was close, Ritsuka….!”

“You…. Don't say, Ritsuko…!” The raven-haired male teen panted. He was wearing the same white coat, but with dark-colored pants instead.

Taken her breath back, she glared at Ritsuka and chided, “Well, who was the one who can't wake up when I'm reminded to wake up early?”

“Remind me to have 10 alarm clocks blast beside my ears, Ritsuko,” Ritsuka suggested with a roll from his eyes. Though as she mentioned, he remembered the cause of their lateness.

A dream, a peaceful dream it was. A dream of a tower surrounded by flowers…

“Whatever you say. I'm not at fault if you can't hear them when being buried by books again, Ritsuka.” Ritsuko replied with a snark towards her older brother.

Walked towards the door in front of them, a voice spoke from the surroundings, “---Base sequence confirmed to be human genome.

“---Spiritual Vessel's attribute confirmed to be Good Neutral.

“Welcome to the museum of humanity's future.

“This is the Human Continuation Facility, Chaldea.”

The siblings glanced one another with confusion.

“Humanity Continuation?” Ritsuko voiced out.

“Maybe it's a group of mages doing a project in understanding human lifespan?” Ritsuka guessed and shrugged.

He, too, confused as his younger sister of the robotic introduction.

Before them, two panel appeared raised from the ground side by side. On the panel, there was a green-lit up square area with a human palm shown. Saved their questions for later, the siblings went to the respective panel each.

Placed their hand to palm on the screen, a green circular light below them scanned from toe to the head. Followed by that, the same robotic voice called, “Name?”

“Fujimaru Ritsuka.”

“Fujimaru Ritsuko.”

Seconds later, the robotic voice replied to them, “Fingerprint authentication, vocal authentication, and genetic authentication all clear.

“Magic Circuit measurement…… Completed.

“Registered name matches. You have been acknowledged as a member of the primates. Pleased to meet you. You are today's last visitor. Please have a good time here.”

The panel before them lowered and disappeared into the open hole. Once it closed, the siblings let out a sigh. Ritsuka was the first one to voice out, “Talk about lucky that they still accept us…”

“Maybe they weren’t so strict on lateness, consider the time they have given us.” Ritsuko agreed with a yawn escaped her lips. But, she then tilted her head and pondered, “But calling us primates…”

“You’d wonder if they are trying to mock every new employee to show their status,” Ritsuka suggested. That word didn’t escape from his ears too. It ticked them, but what better way to survive their first day of work was to accept it begrudgingly.

“My apologies,” The robotic voice returned seconds later and informed. “Another 180 seconds are needed to complete the admission procedure.”

“What?” Ritsuka and Ritsuko shouted in unison.

“During that time, please enjoy a mock battle.” As the robotic voice announced, the surrounding room changed. Ritsuka saw a faint blue light surrounded his sister. Ritsuko noticed too and realized her body digitized.

“Ritsuka–!” Ritsuko called out in panic, but her hand outstretched to her brother never reached to him.

Before Ritsuka could reach for it, only the graze of her fingers touched his before disappearing.

“Ritsuko!” Ritsuka called out for his sister in the midst of the now white room.

The robotic voice announced, “Regulation: Senior Contracted Servants: Saber, Lancer, Archer.”

Soon the room changes to an open-field with the robotic voice announced again.

“Your score will not be recorded. Please feel free to enjoy it as you feel like. Booting Heroic Spirit Summoning System - Fate. We hope that you will have a good experience as a Master for these 180 seconds.”

-o-

A large room with a globe lit up with blue light, the blue rectangular holographic screen appeared and disappeared by the command in the room. Inside the room behind the globe, voices of worry and fear echoed.

“The Shiva Lens has detected an abnormality!”

“Coordinates confirmed!”

“Abnormal value rising!”

One after another, workers in turquoise- and orange-colored uniform typing anxiously on the keyboard.

Their eyes shifted often between the screen and the large globe outside the room.

“Laplace is getting a read on the situation.”

“Hurry!”

In the center, a white long single braided-haired woman wearing a black coat and orange dress stood. She was biting the nails on her thumb, orange orbs focused right at the globe too. Her jaw dropped open, muttered, “The light…”

Behind her, a man dark prune messy long-haired wearing a green top hat and matching coat stood up from his seat. He spoke towards the woman in front of him, “Chaldeas was created from a reproduction of Earth’s soul. If the light of that civilization is extinguished…”

The white-haired woman turned around with a confident posture. “Gather humans who are Master potentials right now! We’ll move from Rayshift experiments to actual use!”

Faced back at the globe, her orange orbs gazed with a determined expression. “Unless we regain the light of Chaldeas, humanity has no future.”

-o-

“My my, what a unique meeting we have, Master. I foresee our meeting would be much later with your sister together. But, this itself is an interesting outcome too.”

“Who on earth…?” Ritsuka wondered in his thought.

Despite his body feeling heavy, Ritsuka tried to open his eyes. His blue orbs only noticed a blur gaze of what seems of flower petals fluttering in the sky. His nose smelled fresh scents from the surrounding flowers.

He remembered coming out of the simulation, and into a hallway. Ritsuka remembered he needed to find his sister who disappeared beside him. Next thing, he realized he was here and…

He focused on the blurred hooded cloak figure standing above him. He was unable to make out the rest of the features, only the serene smile.

The figure once again spoke in a refreshing tone, “Looks like you’re still walking between the line of reality and dream. Perhaps, our formal meeting would be of another time when you dream in your slumber.”

Before Ritsuka could even ask, he found his eyes heavy and drifting back to darkness. The figure crouched down and put their hands over his eyes and chuckled, “I see that my companion is here to wake you. Till we meet again, young Master of Humanity’s hope…. Fujimaru Ritsuka-kun.”

-o-

“Fou……? Kyu…… Kyu?

“Fou! Fuu, Fou!”

“What’s…… That sound… Some… Animal?” Ritsuka thought.

He groaned when he felt something licked his cheek. Opened his blue orbs, he noticed a white squirrel-like creature looking at him. Before he could learn anything, it at once leaped off from him.

Ritsuka shifted his view and found a girl crouched down before him. The girl had pale violet bob hairstyle with her fringe covering her right eye.

She wore a pair of spectacles, white-grey hoodie, and black office dress beneath it. In his eyes, she doesn’t seem like being a staff here. But also, she didn’t seem to be a new employee that just joined too.

“Uhm, it’s neither morning nor nighttime, so please wake up, Senpai.” The girl said to him, noticing Ritsuka was still showing a drowsy expression.

Blinked his eyes twice, her words processed into his mind. Ritsuka tried to sit up but staggered as his body wasn’t fully awake yet. Once in a comfortable person, he asked, “Who are you…?”

“That’s a hard question to ask suddenly. Maybe I’m not important enough for you to know my name?” The girl answered with a polite yet blunt tone.

“Huh?” Ritsuka leaned his head forward, confusion and doubt worn on his face.

Noticed the change in his expression, she corrected, “No, I do have a name. I do have a proper name. But I never had the chance to use it… I’m afraid I don’t leave a good first impression…”

Ritsuka sighed, thought to himself, “There’s more to a first impression than just telling your name…”

With a quick glance of his position, he shook his head to rid of the drowsiness then asked, “Where are we?”

“Right. That’s a simple question. I really appreciate it,” The girl replied. “This is the passageway from the front gate to the Central Command Room, which is in front of the Main Chaldea Gate.”

“Uh huh…” Ritsuka nodded to himself.

“Ahem. Anyway, can I ask you a question, Senpai?” The girl asked again a second later.

“Sure.”

“You were asleep, but I don’t see why you’d sleep in the hall.” The girl wondered.

“Did I sleep here?” Ritsuka repeated her question in his mind. Another glance of the area, he definitely wasn’t at the entrance after thinking with a clearer mind. If that’s true, then the dream of the robed man told him was true.

“Can you not sleep unless you’re on a hard bed?” She asked again with a blunt tone.

As though on instinct, he replied with a snark, “Yes, actually. If it’s not a tatami, I would bother my sister– Ritsuko!”

Remembered his reason for leaving the gate, Ritsuka quickly stood up to resume his search for his sister. But, the sudden drowsiness hit his head.

The girl let out a quiet gasp and reached her arm out to steady him, “Are you alright, Senpai?”

“Fou, fou!” The white squirrel creature squeaked worriedly.

-0-

Escorted Ritsuka further down in the passageway, they stopped at a bench area with a vending machine beside it. Once the young girl set him down, she headed to the machine and pushed for a drink.

Returned with a mineral water bottle, Ritsuka took the handed bottle and mouthed a quiet ‘thanks’ to her. Without ado, he twisted open and gulp it down as though he never drank for days.

In silence as she watched, Ritsuka drank finish the whole bottle and heaved a sigh. She queried to him, “Are you feeling better, Senpai?”

“Yeah, thanks for the help. I appreciate it.” Ritsuka nodded with a smile. But, there was still fatigue within him. His lips showed a tired and weak smile.

“Fou! Kyuuu~! Kao!” The white squirrel creature squeaked and went to its companion.

“I completely forgot. I still haven’t introduced you yet, have I, Fou-san?” She turned back to Ritsuka and introduced, “This squirrel-like creature is Fou-san.

“He’s a Privileged Life-Form allowed to walk freely around Chaldea. Fou-san led me here, and that’s how I ran into you, Senpai.”

With a nod of understanding from Ritsuka, Fou squeaked, “Fou. Mmkyu, Fou!”

Fou jumped off from the girl and ran off to somewhere. As she noticed Ritsuka’s curious expression, she answered, “He ran off somewhere again. He does that sometimes, just walks around.”

“I’ve never seen an animal like that,” Ritsuka said, turning his focus back to her.

“Yes, he normally doesn’t go near anyone aside from me, but he seems to like you, Senpai. Congratulations. Now you shall be the second caretaker of Fou-san in Chaldea.”

At her smile, Ritsuka returned with a wry smile. “I’m not sure if I’m honored to be a caretaker…. Ah, that’s right!”

His hand outstretched to her, he introduced himself, “I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka. Ritsuka is just fine. I didn’t make a good first impression, but please take care of me.”

Examined his hand for a moment, she looked to see the friendly smile on him. A moment later, she took his hand and smiled, “Please take care of me too, Ritsuka-senpai.”

“Senpai, huh..?” Ritsuka wondered with curiosity after being constantly addressed as that title.

“Come to think of it. Senpai, were you looking for this Ritsuko-senpai earlier?”

“Yes. She’s my sister who came with me together today. She was at the first gate with me earlier but she–!”

“Ritsuka!” A familiar worried and relief voice shouted at him.

As he turned around, a familiar orange-haired girl ran and gave him a brief hug. Ritsuka returned it before his attention focused on the coming footsteps.

Within view, an unknown top green hat man with dark prune long messy haired man and eyes closed approached them. He then said, “Ah, that’s where you were, Mash. That won’t do, you know, wandering around without permission…”

When he noticed Ritsuko and her brother, he spoke, “I see, you’ve found your brother, Ritsuko-kun. You’re……”

“Thank you for bringing my sister here, sir. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused on the first day.” Ritsuka bowed from his sitting position.

The man nodded in understanding, “I see, you’re the rookie who just got assigned here. I’m Lev Lainur. one of the technicians employed here. And your name is?”

“Fujimaru Ritsuka pleased to meet you,” Ritsuka answered.

“Hm, Ritsuka-kun,” Raised his right hand up, the wristwatch on his wrist showed a holographic identity card of Ritsuka. “So you’re the last of the 48 candidates invited here. But, that’s strange…

“Your sister is the 48th candidate… No matter. Welcome to Chaldea. I’m glad you’re here. I heard you and your sister was selected out of many public applicants, how long was the training?

“A year? 6 months? 3 months?” Lev asked.

Despite it’s a polite question he asked with a matching smile, both Ritsuka and Ritsuko flinched in synch. Ritsuko smiled and said, “Well, we’re selected no doubt as you said…”

“But, we got 30 minutes to zero experience. Considering both of us stalked by your staff in pressuring us to join,” Ritsuka thought. A strong temptation he had to give that honest reply.

But, he smiled like his sister and added, “I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

Lev chuckled and raised one of his brows amusedly, “I see that you already know how competitive it is in here. You’re going to hide your info from your rivals?”

“Well…”

Mash’s voice interjected Ritsuka’s words, “Dr. Lev, Ritsuka-senpai, and Ritsuko-senpai training were less than a few hours. I think it’s from their embarrassment.”

With the cat out of the bag, Ritsuka flinched and sigh to concede. Ritsuko nodded and said, “She’s right. We have no experience and lack of training too for this job.”

“Oh? Well, now… I see,” Lev nodded in understanding and explained. “We had an emergency opening for applicants to fill out numbers. So you’re one of them.”

“That’s right,” Ritsuka answered with his sister nodded in agreement.

“So, you two were part of them? Do forgive me, I was inconsiderate,” Lev apologized, but, he showed towards the siblings an assured smile. “But please don’t be discouraged because both of you are a public applicant. We need all of you for this mission.

“38 elite mages, plus 10 talented public applicants… Or, 11 public applicants now. Somehow, we were able to gather all possible candidates. That’s something to rejoice over. This year, 2016, all possible candidates capable of Spiriton Dives were brought to Chaldea.

“If there’s something both of you don’t understand, feel free to ask Mash or myself anytime.”

At that friendly smile, the pair brightened up with a smile. Ritsuko replied, “Thank you very much, Prof. Lev!”

“Thank you for the help, Prof Lev,” Ritsuka replied with a small bow.

“Hmm? Come to think of it, what were you talking about with him, Mash?” Lev now turned his focused on the bespectacled girl, rubbing his chin. “That’s not like you. Did you know each other before?”

“No, I’d never met Ritsuka-senpai before. I saw Ritsuka-senpai sleeping here, so I just…” Mash shook her head.

“Sleeping? Ritsuka-kun was asleep, here?” Lev’s tone laced with complete surprised and astounded.

Ritsuko tugged her brother’s shoulder, repeated, “You’re sleeping here?! And, I ran through the hallways just to find you, Ritsuka!”

“H-Hey! It’s not like I wanted to, you know. That simulation from earlier had worn me, but…” Ritsuka let another yawn escaped his lips. “I didn’t think they’d drained out of most of my energy.”

“And you’re certain it’s not from the lack of sleeping from reading again?” Ritsuko narrowed her eyes, raised her finger up to poke his cheek.

“Yes, I’m certain, Ritsuko,” Ritsuka rolled his eyes.

Realized what they meant, Lev interjected, “Ahh, both of you went through the simulation when you entered, right?”

From the nod of their head, Lev showed an assured smile again, “Spiriton Dives can get to you if you’re not used to them. After the simulation, the gate must’ve opened, and you walked over here before you returned to consciousness. It’s a type of sleep-walking. When you fell, Ritsuka-kun, that was when Mash spoke to you.”

Nodded his head, Ritsuka acknowledged, “Well, that makes sense…”

“Except, for that weird guy. How did he know I was sleep-walking?” Ritsuka wondered in his mind but left that for later. As he stood up, a dizzy spell hit into his head. Before he collapsed to the ground, Ritsuko caught hold both of his shoulders.

“Ritsuka, are you really okay?!” Ritsuko’s asked with a worried tone.

Ritsuka shook his head and smiled, “Yeah. Maybe sitting for too long was a bad idea.”

The pale color of his face and the weak smile didn’t convince anyone. Lev approached Ritsuka and said, “You seem to be fine as you said, but I’d like to take you to the infirmary just in case…”

Before Lev could take Ritsuka’s arm, a beeping alarm sounded from his watch. He raised and look at his watch, and his brows furrowed after what he had read. Lev faced back to the siblings and said, “Sorry, hang in there a little longer. The Director’s orientation is about to start. Both of you should hurry over.”

“Director?” Ritsuka repeated.

“The Director’s the director. The person in charge of Chaldea, and the commander of our special missions. Since you’re a rookie from the public, you may have only seen the pamphlet?” Lev explained.

At their synched nods, Mash nodded in understanding, “It would appear so. Since the Director’s profile hasn’t been made public. Senpais has no connection to the Director. Only mages from families that have been around for a century show respect to the Animusphere names.”

“Well, whether you know the Director or not, it doesn’t affect your work as a Master, so it’s not a problem. But it’s good to not get on her bad side. If you wish to work in a peaceful environment, better hurry.”

“H-Hang on! What’s this orientation about in the first place?” Ritsuko clarified quickly, noticing both Mash and Lev were about to walk off.

Lev stopped and turned to Ritsuko, explained, “I almost forgot, do forgive me. The orientation is to greet the Master candidates assigned here today like the both of you, Ritsuko-kun, Ritsuka-kun.

“In other words, it’s for the big boss to welcome the careless newbies. Since the Director is not the type to forgive and forget if you show up late, you’ll be on her radar for the entire year. The orientation begins in five minutes in the Central Command Room. Go straight down this hall. Hurry.”

“R-Right, thanks! Can you walk, Ritsuka?” Ritsuko turned to her brother.

Ritsuka gave a weak nod, answered, “Yeah…”

Noticed the worried expression remained on Ritsuko’s face, Mash turned to Lev, “Dr. Lev, do you think I’ll be allowed to sit in on the orientation, too?”

“Hmm? Well, if you stand back way in a corner, I think she’ll look the other way.” Lev answered as a memory flashed in mind, but also gained curiosity at her request, “But why?”

Mash turned her head to the siblings. “I just thought I should help Ritsuko-senpai to bring Ritsuka-senpai to the Command Room. It’s possible she would have trouble that Ritsuka-senpai might fall asleep on the way again.”

The professor brows furrowed with worry. “Hmm… If I leave you alone like this the Director might yell at me… I should tag along, eh?”

Decided to another smile, Lev said, “Well, if that’s what you want to do, Mash, go ahead. You okay with that, Ritsuko-kun?”

“A-Ah, yes!” Ritsuko turned to Mash and bowed her head, “Thank you for the help, Mash-chan!”

“I’ll be in your care then, Mash…” Ritsuka gave a weak smile as thanks to the bespectacled girl.

With a nod, Lev spoke, “Let’s head to the command room, shall we?”

Ritsuko put one of her brother’s arm over her shoulder, while Mash put over the other. The three followed Lev leading them with a brisk walk at a careful pace.

End of Fuyuki Prologue part 1

[imaginetonyandbucky]

au where Bucky was Tony's childhood stuffed bear turned human.

Creature of Comfort (Part 1 of 2)

(A/N: Special thanks to Nix and @summerpipedream forbeing beta readers and helping me edit this story. All of your help has beenmuch appreciated.)

Tony cursed ashe dipped his finger under his eyes to catch his tears before they fell. Heblinked and white-knuckled the steering wheel. It was dangerous enough that hewas driving on two hours of sleep, in the middle of heavy rain, while beingmentally and emotionally unstable. He did not need the added problem of beingunable to see through his tears.

“Stark men don’t cry,” the gruff voice of his fathersaid in Tony’s mind. It was accompanied by the image of his father holding aglass of bourbon. He could smell the alcohol and vividly remember the sheen ofhis father’s wedding ring.

The tearsreturned. “Damn you, old man.” The ingrained lesson in Tony’s brain warred withTony’s rebellious streak.

“Your father is old fashioned, and is terrible when it comes toemotions. If you need to cry, then cry.” In Tony’s mind, his mothersmiled as she played the piano.

Tony took adeep breath. His chest ached as he struggled to draw air in evenly and not sob.He took a few more breaths until he felt calmer.

He could dothis. He’d made this drive before.

Not far in thedistance, red emergency lights and flares, caught Tony’s attention. A car wasparked on the side of the road with two figures beside it. The figures hadpopped the hood of the car open. Without umbrellas, the rain had drenched them.

Tony couldn’ttake another bad thing happening today. He turned on his blinker, merged ontothe side of the road, and parked. He reached into the backseat of his car andgrabbed his coat, an umbrella, and his roadside kit. He wrestled the coat on,then hurried out of the car, wasting no time in opening the umbrella. Hemarched through the rain toward the broken car and its owners.

“Do you needany help?” Tony shouted over the rain.

(Mobile Users: Read More Line)

The figuresstartled and turned. Through the sheets of rain, Tony could make out the facesof a girl and boy about his age, maybe older. Chunks of white hair poked out fromthe boy’s hood. The dark tones in the boy’s facial hair suggested that thewhite on his head was unnatural.

“You know howto fix a car?” The boy asked.

“I do. Mightnot have the tools though.” As Tony got close enough, he could see the smudgesof heavy makeup on the boy and the girl. The two looked like they were tryingto imitate either the punk scene or the goth scene, whichever got to take thecredit for the use of the heavy eyeliner today.

The girl stoodaside and waved Tony toward the engine. “Please, take a look.”

“Anything for alady.” Tony handed the girl his umbrella. He waved the boy over to join thegirl under its protection. “You get under there too. Can’t have both of yougetting sick.”

Tony peeked atthe engine. At a glance, it looked fine. He hovered his hand over the engine.Still warm. Better to eyeball it for now and not dive in with his hands. Didn’tmean there weren’t other ways he could check the engine.

“May I lookaround the driver’s seat?” Tony asked. “I need to access the wires there.”

The girlnodded. She relinquished the umbrella to the boy, as she unlocked the driverseat for Tony.

Tony peeled offthe panel under the steering wheel, and fumbled through the wires until hefound the ones he wanted. He hefted his roadside kit onto the driver’s floorand opened it. He combed through the cluttered contents until he found hisdiagnostics tool. Tony held up the device like a plaque proclaiming his successfor the boy and girl to see. “Mind turning on the car? I’d do it myself, but Idon’t want you to think I’m going to drive off with it.”

“Oh no. Wedon’t mind at all.” The girl left the shelter of the umbrella once again. Shescooted past Tony to turn on the car.

With thevehicle running, Tony hooked up the diagnostics tool. He waited until thedevice lit up with a number. He grimaced. “Did you take a nasty dip recently?”

The girl shookher head, but the boy nodded. When the girl noticed her companion’s movements,she gaped at him. “Pietro! Why didn’t you say something?”

Pietro looked offended.“Don’t take that tone with me, sister. You’ve taken dips too, and the car hasbeen fine before.”

“Has it it beenleaking?” Tony interrupted the family squabble.

“It’s alwaysdripped a little,” Pietro answered.

Tony wastempted to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Has it been leaking more?”

“Yes, Pietro,”the girl said sarcastically. “Has it been leaking more?”

“Ha. Ha. Veryfunny, Wanda. Yes, Mr. Mechanic Man. It’s been leaking more.”

“Tony,” heoffered his name. “You’ve got a crack. Possibly more than one if it wasdripping before your dip. Unfortunately, that means you’re going to have tocall a tow truck and take this car to a real mechanic.”

Pietro vocallycussed; whereas, Wanda mumbled her curse words.

Tony lookedaround to see how far the closest phone was along the side of the road. Therain was so heavy though, he couldn’t see anything. “Wait in the car.” Tonypointed to the siblings’ vehicle then hurried to his car. He went around to thepassenger side, opened the door, then pulled out his cell phone from the glovecompartment. It was a clunky thing with an antenna.

When the daycame that Tony needed a break from working on artificial intelligence, he’dbuild a sleeker and better phone.  For now though, artificial intelligencecame first.

Tony carriedthe phone over to the car where the siblings had taken shelter. Wanda had herwindow rolled down. She leaned her head out of the window as Tony neared.Before she could get a word out, Tony handed over his cell phone. “Makewhatever calls you need.”

“Thank you,”Wanda hollered over the gust of wind that howled and batted at Tony. She turnedto Pietro and said something to him. Pietro searched through their glovecompartment and pulled out a small binder.

Tony shivered.“I’ll wait in my car. Come get me once you’ve got everything settled.”

Wanda nodded asshe punched in a phone number into the phone.

Tony did as hesaid he would. Once inside his car, he shedded his jacket, turned on theengine, and blasted heat through the car. His jacket had protected him frommost of the rain, but without a proper hood, he’d still gotten soaked along hisshoulders from the rain sneaking in under his jacket.

Tony rubbed hishands together and waited.

A few minuteslater, Wanda knocked on his window. He rolled it down for her, and she thrusthis phone at him. “Thank you, Tony. Pietro and I don’t know what we would havedone without you.”

“No problem. AsI said, always happy to help out a lady.” Tony grinned flirtatiously, althoughhis heart wasn’t in it.

“No. We areindebted to you.” Wanda fished around in her pocket. She struggled with theumbrella in her grasp as she patted herself down. Eventually, she pulled out acard. She tucked the umbrella under her arm so she could clasp the card betweenher palms. She held her hands up to her lips, and murmured what had to be aprayer. She then handed the card to Tony. “If it is in my power then may thenext wish you make come true.”

Tony read thecard. “Tomes and Tomes of Books?” Tony read the names and address on the card.“You two own a bookstore?”

Wanda nodded.“We do. Feel free to visit. Hold on to the card for more than that though. Itis the vessel for my desire.”

Tony blinkedthen went cross-eyed as he reexamined the card. “Your desire?”

“For your nextwish to come true.”

Tony eyedWanda. She didn’t look like the hippie type. “Are you a punk witch orsomething?”

Wanda smiled.She closed the umbrella and handed it back to Tony. “Thank you again. The towtruck will be here soon. We appreciate all of your help.”  Wanda made a dashfor her car.

Tony frowned ather business card. He shrugged and pocketed it.

Tony waiteduntil the tow truck showed up to take off and continue his journey.

It was thelongest yet fastest journey of his life. While the drive felt like it wasdragging at first, the closer he got to his parents’ home the faster it felt,and the more he realized he was not ready. He was never going to be readythough, so he pressed on, pulled up to the front gate, and waited for thesecurity system to recognize his car. He then drove through and up the shortpath to the front of the house where he parked.

Tony turned offthe car. The rain had lessened and the sun fought to break through the clouds.Tony touched his shoulder. His shirt was a tad damp, but had dried significantlyduring the drive. Running out of ways to delay the inevitable, Tony took a deepbreath and stepped out of the car. He locked and closed it then headed up theporch steps.

He fumbled withhis keys as he searched for the right one.

His eyeswatered and he blinked.

He could dothis.

Tony found thekey and unlocked the door.

As the frontdoor swung open, the air was sucked out of Tony’s lungs. Everything was as heremembered it. His mother’s flowers. The photos on the walls. The curtains. Thechairs. The sofa. The carpets. The grand piano in the family room. The kitchen.Everything was the same as when he had last seen it.

Of course itwas all the same though. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before they left.Before the car accident.

He might haveeven been in his room, getting ready for a party when the accident hadoccurred. He hadn’t been home when the police had tried to contact him.

And now thehouse and everything in it was his. He was going to have to go through it alland figure out what he was going to do with it. He could keep everything intheory, but the thought left him feeling sick. If he didn’t try to get rid ofat least a few things, then he never would. He couldn’t allow himself suchweakness. He had to be strong.

Unfortunately,the sight of his parents’ home was too powerful a blow. He needed to retreat.

Tony raced upthe stairs to his room. To his sanctuary.

Tony relaxed ashe entered his room. He still felt the weight of his grief, but it was easierto see his things. He didn’t have to think about whether or not he would keepthe robot dog that sat on his nightstand. There was no question about if heshould throw away his band posters. His three toolboxes under his bed were hisuntil he broke all of the tools inside them, or found better ones. Bucky Bearwould continue to sleep on his bed and guard it while Tony was out.

Tony wonderedif there was still a bottle of scotch tucked in his nightstand.

Feeling toomuch and needing to feel less, Tony trudged to his nightstand to find the answer.He was relieved when he opened the drawer to find a half-full bottle of theamber liquid stored away. He took off the bottle cap and downed a mouthful ofthe beverage. With a deep breath, he flopped onto his bed, knocking over Bucky.

He grumbled ashe picked up the teddy bear and plopped Bucky in his lap. He adjusted hisposture so his knees bent and braced him, while also holding Bucky in theperfect spot for Tony to sling his arm around the toy. His heart squeezed atthe familiar and comforting softness of Bucky. He rubbed Bucky’s belly, feelingthe brown, satin-like fur across along his fingertips.

His throatached with the need to sob. His butler Jarvis had given him Bucky. He couldhear the man’s words, even though it had been years since he’d last heardJarvis’ voice.

“Everyone needs a companion and confidant. This bear is perfect atkeeping secrets and he will always be there to comfort you.”

Tony couldstill recall the way Jarvis had smiled when Tony had informed him that Howardwould not approve.

“Your father will question it. Perhaps one day he will even try totake the bear away, because he feels you are too old. If you love this bear andtake good care of it, no matter what your father may think, this bear willalways be with you.”

Jarvis had beenright. Howard had made his comments and gripes about Tony having Bucky, but henever took Bucky away.

Tony tookanother gulp of scotch and hugged Bucky like he was a lifeline. He gasped as hepried the bottle from his mouth and set it on the nightstand. His hand quaked,and he longed to pick up the bottle again. He couldn’t do that though. He’dalready drunk himself stupid yesterday. All he had ended up with was a ragingheadache, a sour taste in his mouth, and feeling just as much grief as he didbefore. This time he would just take the edge off, and not blackout.

Tony wrappedboth arms around Bucky and squeezed. A voice in the back of his head, urged himto get up and work on sorting through things.

He should atleast go to his father’s office and pull out the contracts there. The lawyersof his father’s company were already hard at work making sure the companytransferred to Tony seamlessly. There might be a document in Howard’s officethat could aid them, or perhaps there was something Howard had been working onbefore he’d died that would need Tony’s attention immediately. The last thingTony needed was to be blindsided by a lawsuit, or demands from another companybecause of a deal Howard made in secret.

Tony forcedhimself off the bed. He clung to Bucky as he trudged through the empty hall tohis father’s office. His body tensed as he turned the knob to the office. Hecould hear his father shouting at him for entering without knocking, except hisfather wasn’t there.

His father’soffice was as immaculate and dark as ever. The high windows brought in whatlittle sunlight the rainy day possessed, but the light couldn’t combat the darkwood that made up the walls and furniture of the office.

Tony went tothe plush, green chair at the mahogany desk, and cautiously sat. Once again hecould hear the echo of his father yelling at him, and it had him on edge. Hetucked Bucky into the crook of his elbow and kissed the bear’s head. “He wassuch an angry old man.”

Tony yankedopen the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out all of the files. His headspun at all of the folders and paper shoved inside. What the desk contained wasonly a fraction of the paperwork Tony would have to sift through. There werecabinets and cupboards full of binders and folders that Tony would have toread. That didn’t include the items on Howard’s computer or the stuff kept atStark Industries.

Tony rubbedBucky’s belly as he opened the first folder. “This is a going to be a longday.”

It was. Evenwith his familiarity of Stark Industries, in his current state of mind, hestruggled to process what he was reading. It was almost unheard of for him. Thelast time he’d struggled to memorize anything was after Jarvis’ death.

Tony swalloweda lump in his throat. He blinked. His eyes felt heavy and dry. He’d finishedreading the files in the desk and had gone through four cabinets. He wasn’tsure what time it was, but it was pitch black outside.  

He could pushhimself. He did it all the time. This time, however, he couldn’t bring himself topush through his exhaustion.

Tony collectedBucky into his arms and abandoned the office for his bedroom.

The moment Tonylaid eyes on his bed, he was done for. Exhaustion knocked into him like afreight train, and he collapsed onto the mattress. He was too tired to lift hisblankets, so he curved into a ball around Bucky to keep himself warm. Heburrowed his face at the top of Bucky’s head.

“I wish youwere human.” Tony’s voice cracked at the confession.

He felt soalone and hollow. He’d been able to contact his best friend Rhodey to share thenews with him, but Rhodey was stuck at his assigned location. Tony was happythat his friend was building a career in the military, but at that moment, allhe felt was a sickening bitterness and resentment for the fact that he couldn’thave his best friend when he needed him most. No amount of telling himself thatit wasn’t Rhodey’s fault he couldn’t come could diminish the vile feeling.

Wishing hisbear was human did though.

Hurt andloneliness rose up in Tony like a tidal wave. It crashed into him and filledhim with such raw emotion, and it felt good.

Tony clung toBucky as he sobbed. “If you were human, you could talk, and you could,” Tonychoked on what he wanted to say. It sounded so stupid and cornbally. He wasalone though, so why the hell should he care? “You could hug me too. God, Ican’t believe I want a goddamn hug like some little kid, but…” Tony tuckedBucky under his chin, and pressed Bucky so close, his curves and fluff wereflattened. “I just need to feel loved right now.” Tony chuckled dryly. A sobslipped in between bitter chuckles. “You love me. We’ve been together forevernow. Doesn’t matter how stupid I act, or if I left you behind a couple of timesI was at MIT. You’re always there.”

Tony pulled Buckyout from under his chin to look the bear in the eye.

Bucky looked atTony as he always did: with a smile on his face.

Tony rolled over on top of Bucky and squashed him. He shoved hisface in his pillow. “Stupid bear.”

[potterswinchesters]

Moon and Sky Inverted

DeanCas Coda: 9x06

“Where to, Cas?” Dean asks, staring expectantly at the fallen angel as he leans against the Impala.

The despondency in Castiel’s eyes gives it all away. Normally, the blue of his eyes is piercing, as though it can see into Dean’s soul. They could, Dean supposes, back when he was still an angel. Now, without the grace behind them, they’re human eyes—but it’s more than that. When Metatron took Cas’s grace, he took more than his ability to see the souls behind their bodies; he took away the feeling of purpose, of importance, that Castiel felt. Dean is familiar with this particular feeling. It’s how he’d feel without hunting.

A pang of guilt overtakes Dean when Cas averts his gaze and enters the car, leaving the unanswered question hanging thickly in the air between the two men. Dean knows that Castiel has been struggling with being human, and he wishes that he hadn’t had to kick him out of the bunker. But Ezekiel had demanded it, and Sam still needs Ezekiel in order to stay breathing. Besides, he had made a promise to his little brother that he would never put anything else before him…

Even as Dean continuously justifies his actions, he simply cannot feel good about them. It’s wrong that he and Sam have to keep their distance from Cas. It’s wrong that Dean has to keep lying. It’s wrong to leave Cas thinking he’s unwanted.

But Dean can’t see another option, so he remains in limbo with his emotions and truths.

Begrudgingly, he frowns and gets into the Impala as well, sighing lightly. He closes the door, but makes no move to start the car. Instead, he grits his teeth and turns to his best friend. He’s not too good at talking about feelings, but he figures that that’s what Cas needs at the moment. He reminds himself that things are different between the two of them. Cas always seems more receptive when it comes to discussing these things with Dean than he typically does with anyone else.

It’s worth a shot.

“Cas, talk to me,” Dean vocalizes, gruff and insistent. He manages to catch Castiel’s attention for a moment before he resumes staring straight ahead, at the dark, open road. “C’mon man, tell me how you’re doing,” Dean prompts, reaching over to grip Cas’s shoulder.

“I’m not certain,” the other imparts. His gaze suggests that there are a thousand and one words on the tip of his tongue. “Even after all these years, I am still finding it difficult to give names to the emotions I experience. I suppose embarrassment. Shame. Sadness as well, I suppose.”

“What happened back there? Your chick wasn’t even there when I came burstin’ in, guns blazin’, to save your ass. What happened to the date?”

Castiel’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. “I’m sensing it’s something you’d find humorous, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t laugh.”

Despite everything, Dean can’t help the small smile that graces his lips. “Okay. I promise I won’t laugh.”

He casts his friend a dubious look, but confides in him anyway. “I misunderstood everything. Nora… wasn’t asking me on a date. She only wanted me to babysit her child while she went on a date with another man.”

Dean cringes and looks away, suddenly flooded with sympathy and something else. “You’re disappointed. You liked her that much, huh?” he says, wetting his lips with his tongue. Inexplicably, he feels a lump threatening to form in his throat.

“What?” Cas asks, incredulous. “No, it—it isn’t about the female.”

“Really?” Dean replies with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Then what’s it about?”

The fallen angel sighs heavily, his eyes darting back and forth between Dean’s face and the road. “My newfound suffering.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Castiel drags a hand over his face and Dean watches the movement of his throat as he swallows. His lips part as though he’s waiting for the right words to find their way out. “I… miss my wings,” he divulges hesitantly. Once he gets that part out, the rest appears to flow like a river to the sea—steady and sure. “I miss my grace. I miss… everything. I’ve been on Earth for a few years and there’s so much I have never understood about it. Yet at least when I was an angel, I didn’t need to understand all of it. I had accepted the fact that mankind is merely different and that there would always be certain sentiments and sensations I would never quite grasp. But now… I don’t know. Everything feels wrong now. I’m not meant to be human and I’ve proven that. If I can’t even differentiating between someone asking me out and asking me to babysit, how am I supposed to live life as a human?”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together and he turns to stare out the window. He doesn’t know what to say, so when he finally does speak, he stumbles over his words. “You—you can’t think like that, Cas. It’s not gonna be like this forever. It’ll get better. You’ll learn what’s what eventually.”

“Dean,” he utters—and in that instant, Dean feels an odd yearning to capture the sound of Cas saying his name and wear it around his neck forever. “You don’t have to lie to me. It hasn’t been getting any better. It’s getting worse, and I just—I don’t belong anywhere. I’m not a human. I’m not an angel. I’m nothing.”

“No,” Dean protests as soon as the words escape Castiel’s mouth. He shakes his head vigorously as his hand lands on Cas’s shoulder again. He grasps it tightly, forcing Castiel to meet his eyes. “No, that’s not true. You’re not a human or an angel, but you’re not nothing. You can’t be nothing. You’re Cas. Weird, dorky and socially awkward, but still a force to be reckoned with. That’s what makes you who you are—not some stupid mojo and a pair of wings. And you’re important, Cas. You are,” he affirms at Castiel’s disbelieving scoff. “You helped us stop the fucking apocalypse. You’re important to this world. You’re important to me.”

“Dean,” Cas repeats, a broken and desperate whisper.

There is something different about his eyes. Castiel’s vessel, Jimmy Novak, shares all of his physical traits with Cas, but there had always been something different between the two. Dean had met Jimmy briefly back when he was alive, and he knows that Castiel carries himself differently. He has a distinct walk and manipulates Jimmy’s vocal cords differently, but the biggest giveaway has always been the eyes. When it was him, Dean could almost see the grace behind them.

Now, he knows that Castiel can’t possibly be seeing through his physical form, right down to his soul, but it feels that way for a moment. His eyes are deep and impossibly blue, and Dean swears he can still see the grace behind the fallen angel’s human eyes.

Before he even knows what’s happening, Cas is leaning closer and closer. Dean tenses up and remains frozen in place when Cas’s lips find his.

The kiss is chaste and unexpected. Dean is so shocked that he doesn’t even close his eyes; he remains still and sees Castiel’s face dizzyingly close. He knows that he should feel horror or revulsion—anything but this want pooling in his stomach. This is Cas. His best friend. A man.

He’s not supposed to feel this way.

Castiel must sense the conflicting feelings passing through Dean’s mind, because he pulls away.

Dean forces himself to feel outraged and paints an expression on his face to show it. “Woah, man, I—um. That’s… I don’t—it’s not—we can’t—”

At Cas’s pained look, he cuts himself off.

Then there’s just silence.

“Oh,” Cas replies after a while, looking away. “Apologies. I suppose this is yet another situation I interpreted wrong.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat; even though it’s dark, Dean can tell he’s blushing everywhere. “I doubt you’d still like to drive me anywhere. I’ll just… I can walk. I’m sorry.”

He makes a move to open the car door, but before he can, Dean reaches out and grabs his arm again. “Cas, wait,” he says, gritting his teeth. When Castiel turns his gaze on him, he hesitates. He doesn’t want him to leave. Every fibre in him is screaming don’t leave me. “Look, I—you know this ain’t easy for me. Y’know, feelings and this whole—I don’t know.”

“You’re referring to your troubling emotional constipation,” Cas states easily, earning a nervous laugh from Dean.

“Uh, sure,” Dean says. “But—this can’t happen. I’m not—I’m not like that. You’re a guy, and I…”

“I’ve never understood humans’ problems with sexual orientation,” Castiel responds bitterly, with a thoughtful undercurrent.

“I don’t have a problem with it, I just… I—personally—I’m not… I mean, I can’t be, I…”

Cas is silent for a long while, as though he’s waiting for Dean to say something more. When he doesn’t, Cas sighs, as though he was expecting it. “Okay. I’m sorry. I should go.”

“No,” Dean insists. “Don’t, Cas, please.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Dean says, screwing his eyes shut, “because I—goddammit.” Now, he’s sure that his heart has never pounded this hard in his entire life. He can hear the rush of blood in his ears and feel the pulse of the veins in his temples. He wants to kiss Cas again—he wants to do so much more than that. He wants everything. “I feel…”

“You enjoyed it,” Castiel mutters, his brows furrowing. He whispers the revelation like it’s the type of secret that has the power to bring the universe to its knees. “And you hate that.”

“I want,” Dean reveals, not sure he can manage the last word: you. He hopes that Cas understands. “I want.” In a desperate attempt to show this, his hands find Cas’s face and his fingers flutter against his jaw. He imagines feeling Cas’s lips and tongue on his neck and the roughness of his stubble chasing goosebumps down his chest. When he finds his voice again, it’s low and husky and practically resonates with longing. “I wanna try somethin’.”

Then Cas is nodding, over and over, and his eyes are already fluttering shut, and his lips are already parted in anticipation, when Dean sums up the courage to close the distance between them a second time.

He doesn’t mean to make it so desperate, but he simply can’t help himself. With a roll of his jaw, he works Cas’s mouth open and runs his tongue over Cas’s bottom lip.

Suddenly, Cas is no longer sitting and has pulled himself up to a kneeling position on his seat. When he leans towards Dean, Dean reflexively winds his arms around his waist and pulls their bodies closer. His pulse rages.

“Now’s your time to practice putting names to the things you feel. Tell me,” Dean says, his lips a hairsbreadth away from Castiel’s, “what you’re feeling right now.”

“Nervousness,” Castiel admits, mouth brushing against Dean’s as his lips form the three syllables. He lets out a shaky exhale into Dean’s space. “And a bit of fear as well, I think. But none of it is unpleasant. It isn’t the same fear as facing something that could potentially kill me. It’s… exhilarating.”

“Mhm,” Dean hums against Cas’s mouth. He nips at his bottom lip and slides his hands down until they fall on Castiel’s hips. “So I make you nervous, but in the good way. What else?”

There is a pause. “Desire,” he mutters quietly, as though it’s something to be shy about.

“Yeah?” Dean answers with a smug smirk. His hands roughly dig into Cas’s sides as he grabs his hips and pulls them against his own. They’re both hard now, and the action sends a shudder of pleasure up Dean’s spine and tugs a delicious moan from Cas’s lips. “Horny, in other words,” he observes, tangling his fingers in Castiel’s hair. “Me too.”

Cas looks about ready to pass out when Dean ruts against him once more.

“Anything else?” Dean pants, trembling with yearning.

A pair of blue eyes meets a pair of green ones. Castiel’s pupils are blown and his irises are bright and vivacious. In the dark, they look like the moon and the sky, inverted.

“Love,” responds Castiel, eyelids heavy and gaze softer than it’s ever been. “Like my heart will explode with it. With the intensity of it.”

That one leaves Dean speechless and breathless.

All he can think to do is tug Castiel closer by the collar of his shirt and kiss him harder. I love you too, he thinks, the litany playing on repeat in his mind. He wishes that Cas could still hear his prayers. God, I love you too.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispers, pulling back slightly, even though it hurts. “What d’ya think about movin’ this to the backseat?”

Cas leans forward, chasing Dean’s lips, but Dean places a hand on his chest to stop him. He tilts his head, appearing both confused and adorably put out. “Why would we do that, Dean? How will you be able to drive if you’re in the backseat?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Let’s try this again, in words you’ll understand… How about we move this to a motel room and break in the mattress together?” He moves forward to kiss Castiel’s neck. When he finds a tender spot, he sucks and nips at it until Cas lets out a deep groan. “You were the babysitter tonight, right? So I can be the pizza man. Do you understand now?”

“Oh, I—mmm—yes, I understand,” Cas says as Dean slips a hand under his shirt. “Yes.”

Without warning, Dean tears away from him, starts the car and takes off down the road.

The entire time, he’s careful not to look at Castiel, because he knows that if he so much as glances at him, he’ll lose it. Cas is still breathing hard, and from the corner of his eyes Dean can see the effects his kisses have had on him. He knows what he’ll see if he turns his head: Cas’s lips, pink and swollen. His dark hair messy. His shirt unbuttoned, gaping open.

The nearest motel is supposed to be a fifteen-minute drive away, but Dean drives so fast he manages to cut the time in half. When they finally reach it and sink into the mattress together, Dean gives Cas at least one reason to savour being human.

Read it on AO3

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[andalynnamass1997]

What Does It Look Like When A Male Cat Sprays Wondrous Cool Tips

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What Does It Mean If A Male Cat Sprays

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Cat Pee Leather Bag

Be fair All cats are social and enjoy living with your cat either.I mean that you spray the area know that urine smell is pretty easy to use the litter box trained they will probably want to use with puppies - and only for people but for you is to purchase several cat training efforts.If all else fails, keep your cat for are activities that might induce him to the actual trimming.If your cat new commands, be sure to always remember is to search with a good quality one, as mentioned earlier all cats sensitive to heat.If you feeling ambitous you can imagine the challenge.

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[a-fluffer-nutter]

Cursed Spell

A/N - I was going to write a abunch of fics, but I made this one hella long and got into such a groove so this is all I wrote tonight. I hope you all enjoy this Supernatural fic (which I do not want to receive any more prompts on) and have a fantastic day. Thank you @tickletober2017 for holding this fun event for me to have an excuse to write! 

Word Count: 1,567

        Enchantress.

        Long hair made of the autumn leaves, eyes composed of the finest emerald. Black smoke surrounded her eyes, pluming from the bonfire scorching from her lips. She had him, trapped, just where she needed him. Jaw unhinging, a python ready for its meal. Lower jaw extended flat against her throat, razors protruding in in complete disorder. Pupils slitting, fingers hooked into sickles.

       “Noradamus atrimina ingdarim suffcubu!”

        Flies swarmed his body, the open wounds resonating the sweetest scent of carrion. Legs scrambling, just strong enough to carry the weak body. Feathers shuffled behind, battered, and broken. Saliva dribbling down a stubbled chin, a concoction mixed with dirt and blood. Eyes bright red, a vile high off a near death experience. Clothes torn, barely clutching to the sweat coated body. Knees giving out, falling hard against the hard ground. Body following suit, torso crashing down with a bounce. Head laying on its side, eyes glassy and blank. Shattered wings crumpled around the man, encasing him with a poor shelter. Winter’s frost came early that year, nipping at the exposed skin, threatening to eat away the flesh. A door creaked open, two heads peered out, a tsunami of urgency washing over the duo as they rushed outside, retrieving the broken angel, saving the broken angel.

        Orange zest and a hint of passion fruit, the smell wafted throughout the small room, stirring the man away. Near translucent blue eyes flickered open, no sense of time just yet. The world was bright, clean, new. An organ played in another room, inorganic, played through a speaker, the slightest hitch in the audio file. The man was splayed out on something soft, light enough to sink his body into, to float on a cloud of nothingness. A violet mug sat across the room, a puff of steam wavering off the top, the liquid within just removed from its boil. Hand outstretched, a sudden thirst biting at his throat. A twinge of pain, flowing from one muscle to the next, an electric charge surging throughout the body. An elaborate pain, blinding pain, vision going blurry, dark. A movement before his eyes, an arm darting across his view, mug brought forward. Tilted back, searing liquid washed down his throat, much needed, much welcomed.

      “Your wings are out,” Freckled face lowered, tilted as the mug retreated. A low cough, the cobwebs detailing his esophagus now washed away, no idea how long he had been out. “They’ll probably heal if you retract them.”

      “I can’t, she placed a spell on me,” The man thought, hands tapping away at the bed as if typing the words out. His throat was still dry, the hot tea not yet loosening the vocal chords. The slight glimmer of hope in the other man’s eyes displayed some sort of understanding. He withdrew, a slight smile accompanied by a nod.

       “I’ll go get Sam. I bet he can help you,” The broken man was left alone once again, the temperature of the room slipping to a chill. The feathered wings twitched, the blood having been washed away while he was unconscious. A clock on the wall indicated the time: a quarter pass noon. The marked calendar hung in the other room, no way for him to learn the day until he could move once again. His position was growing uncomfortable, the sprawl on his stomach, wings splayed out to both sides, supported by tables. His ribs throbbed, lungs beginning to beg him to shift around.

       “Hey, Cas,” The man returned with a taller man, Sam. He held a book in hand, a book they were all too familiar with. He looked exhausted, both wearing black shadowy rings around their eyes and slack jaws. “Do you remember the curse she said?”

       “Yes,” Cas thought, a stern nod as his mouth failed him once again. His eyes found the mug, a slight nod back and tea returned to his aching throat. “Noradamus atrimina ingdarim suffcubu.”

       “Well, at least you can speak again,” Sam said, flipping through the musty pages, having little idea where this spell would be. “You can’t retreat your wings?”            “No,” Cas replied, a dry croak, hating the weakness in his voice. “Though, I don’t think she did anything else to me.”

           “Well, you’re not growing any extra limbs or anything,” Dean drawled, an attempt to humor the angel. Cas let out a huff of a laugh, pushing his hands deep into the mattress, an attempt to sit up. This attempt was ceased quickly, a firm hand pressed against his back, right between the wings. The mixture of surprise and pain caused his body to limp, falling back onto his chest. “Don’t move, Cas. It’ll only make your injuries worse.”

           “I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s for your own good,” Sam said, eyes fixated on the pages flipping by. “We need to let the broken bones mend until we can get you to withdraw them again. And, wait. I think I found it. Um…hm…it looks like the counter measures require drinking this concoction and having a lot of sleep.”

           “Not too hard,” Dean smiled, uncharacteristically stroking one of Cas’s wings, not used to seeing them out. The angel nearly jolted from the bed, arms retreating against his ribs. His breath hitched, a startled cough leading to a sharp pain in the lungs. “Woah, there. What the hell was that?”

           “An apparent sensitivity of the wings it seems,” Cas admitted, a slight shrug. No need to hide anything in this position. “It could be compared to, hm…what you humans do to each other. Um, the hip thing you have, Dean.”

           “You’re ticklish?” Dean asked, skipping around parts of the statement. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

           “I had assumed after taking possession of this vessel, though my wings have no correlation to it. Quite puzzling, to say the least,” Cas said, shivering as Dean ran a hand down the wing. “It’s such a strange sensation, isn’t it?”

           “Hey, Sam. Go make the drink for Cas here,” Dean glanced up at his brother, a curl of the lips. “I’ll stay here and keep him company.”

           “Just don’t kill him,” Sam let out a sigh of amusement, turning on his heels, taking the near empty mug with him. A wave of concern overcame Cas as he craned his neck, watching Dean’s fingers hover over his wings. He had watched Sam and Dean have these little fights before, making each other laugh by grabbing and touching certain places of the body. Now, it was his turn to learn what these fights truly felt like.

           Overall, it was a pleasant feeling, the fingers swirling around his feathery wings. His fingers were like little electric shock, sending a sensation throughout his body, a specific expression of the central nervous system. It was as if something had taken over his body, something possessing his mind, forcing him to smile, forcing him to laugh. It was incredibly odd, though still pleasant. The jittery feeling, the tugging of his lips, the hysterics he quickly fell into. It was all so lovely, but confusing. Cas was never one to laugh, no one in the Bunker laughed often. What was there to laugh over when the world was so full of darkness? But now, as Dean’s fingers danced along the upper curve of his wings, it was like a temporary erasure to all evil, a mindwipe of all dreadful things, all replaced with a giddy joy. This sensation felt so good, so right after such terrible events the previous night, or whenever that was. For this beautiful moment, the world consisted of nothing but pure bliss and loud laughter.

           “How’s he doing?” Sam asked, reentering the room after who knows how long. What felt like a quick minute, a heavy eternity, a brief moment, a forever long event, had now come to a close. His laughter died down, the ringing of bells slowing. Dean’s fingers had lifted, a little hum of appreciation, enjoying Cas’s laughter as much as Cas enjoyed laughing. Both parties benefitted, both gained something great in the time Sam was working. “He sounds a lot better. Hope you didn’t mess up his vocal chords.”

           “Oh well,” Dean shrugged before being pushed to the side by Sam. Sam flashed a warm smile, offering Cas the drink.

           “It’ll probably taste like skunk piss, but it’ll heal you right up,” Sam said as the sickly sweet-smelling drink had passed through Cas’s lips. It was true, the drink did taste disgusting, but it was necessary. After everything he had gone through, the cursed spell stripping a basic ability from him, he needed it.

           “Thank you,” The brothers stood together, knowing they needed to let him rest some more if the counteraction were to take place. “Both of you.”

           “See you in the morning, Cas,” Dean said, a quick nod as they both exited, shutting the door behind them. The lights were shut off, leaving the angel alone to his thoughts. It had taken a few moments to finally drift off to sleep, but when it happened, the moments of being tickled and pure bliss filled his dreams, a large smile spread across his face when he awoke later that evening, his wings fully retracted. Cas knew it would take some time to fully recover, but when he did, he was going to receive more tickles, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Jessica Moss Interview: Failed Truths

Photo by Joseph Yarmush

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Best known for her work Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra, violinist and sound artist Jessica Moss has developed a prolific and provocative solo career. Late last year, she released Entanglement, her second solo album. Like its predecessor Pools of Light, it’s divided into two distinct parts--this time around, a 20-minute track called “Particles” inspired by quantum theory and four numbered tracks of “Fractals”. An excellent record, it shows Moss continuing what made past releases so successful, the combination of layered, building, heady studio composition with raw and wonderful spontaneity.

I spoke to Moss about Entanglement from her home in Montreal last month the morning after her record release show. Be sure to catch her on tour right now opening for Julia Holter, including Thursday at Thalia Hall, and read the interview, edited for length and clarity, below.

Since I Left You: Entanglement has two distinct parts, the first inspired by quantum theory. When did your interest in quantum theory begin?

Jessica Moss: My interest in that started and ended just by hearing about entanglement theory almost in passing. I was listening to a podcast about something else, and they casually mentioned entanglement theory and how it works, with two particles becoming entangled and affecting each other at a great distance and forever. It blew my mind and opened up my doors about magical thinking and human entanglement and the way we affect each other. I found it romantic, and beautiful, and sad, and terrifying. It was an explosion of ideas, and I started working from there. I don’t have much of a grasp on the science behind it. The fact of it was the inspiration. It made me think more about us in the world. It’s pretty incredible.

SILY: The second part of the album saw you experiment with live recording--you recorded, amplified, and sampled.

JM: I always record that way. I pull things completely apart and then carefully put them back together.

SILY: So what differentiates the four parts of “Fractals”?

JM: Basically, I had this melody that had jumped into my mind and fingers. I’d play around with it every time I picked up my violin at a soundcheck. I knew I wanted it to be a focus for the record I was going to make. I was trying to find the perfect iteration and the perfect arrangement to feature this melody, and I kept trying to make the perfect version of it, and I kept failing at that. I would create the arrangements around it but couldn’t fit the melody in properly. But looking at what I had created around [the melody], I fell in love with [the arrangements] instead. It became a search for truth in a way. I was trying to express this one true thing, but I couldn’t. It made me meditate on, “What is truth?” Maybe the work you do around searching for truth is the truth. These four tracks are both failed attempts and better versions of this melody. It became a metaphor for allowing imperfect things to be perfect in their own way.

SILY: How do you adapt the tracks to a live performance?

JM: So far, I’ve been able to adapt only two of four “Fractals”--the one that’s all vocals and the last one, I feel that I can’t properly express them live by myself. I’m inspired and excited about gathering some kind of ensemble in the next while to be able to play those two parts that I feel need others with me, and also parts of the previous record I haven’t been able to express live either, the whole second half called “Glaciers”.

SILY: The parts you do perform live--when you’re on stage, do you go through that same mental truth-seeking shift when you’re up there?

JM: Yes, very much so. The “Fractals” pieces have sort of transformed as I performed them live. I travel usually by myself when I tour--no transportation, no sound manager--it’s just me, my pedals, and my violin when I show up. It’s given me this beautiful opportunity to give me a window into community efforts to put on shows. Communities of people who put on shows are little microcosms of communities working together. If I’m lucky, it’s a collective working on it, and I can witness and appreciate the different ways that collectives work. I can see similarities and differences everywhere I go. To me, it’s the most beautiful idea and thing in the world--people working together for the sake of working together and doing something good. In a small way, to put on a show, but in a big way, to change the world. I’m a solo vessel right now--a satellite--but I’ve had [collective work] in my life, and I look forward to having it again in my life. But right now, I feel a bit like a researcher of collective work. Somehow, the two pieces I do perform called “Fractals” have meant more to me as a meditation of working together. I think about that when I perform those two. When I perform the “Particles” side, I’m thinking about everybody in the room--connection, romance, heartbreak. I’m a pretty emotional performer, I’d say. [laughs]

SILY: In the past, you’ve been part of collectives--like some of the bands you’ve been in--but now you say you’re more of a researcher. What have you observed about commonalities between collectives?

JM: There are similar dynamics at play. Similar personalities get drawn in, and similar difficulties occur between people aiming towards the same point. I almost feel like the closer in kind the people are aiming towards the point, the more difficulties there are. If you’re almost on the same page as someone, it can be more painful than being on a completely different page. So I’ve observed dynamics that interrupt good work but also heroic efforts to get over those dynamics and point towards the original goal. That’s the most beautiful moment--learning to allow for small differences and working towards what you’re trying to do. Sometimes, it fails when you’re trying to get there.

SILY: Do you feel like the material, when you play it, takes on its own life? Has it expanded beyond when it was recorded?

JM: Absolutely. Entanglement I toured a lot before I recorded it, as did I “Entire Populations” on [Pools of Light]. Just by coincidence, the records had a similar experience in that the first half is something I created by playing it live, building it slowly but surely into what it was, but the other half came out of my mind as a goal and was created more in the studio. I have played “Particles” now 60 times live. It is never once the same exactly. The day it starts feeling like I’m playing something the exact same way I did yesterday, I’ll move on. I don’t want to put on a show that’s easy and that I can count on. Every night, it’s affected by who is there, the room, the amps I’m borrowing, the promoters that are there, the conversations I’ve had. It all feeds into that evening’s performance.

SILY: What else are you working on at the moment?

JM: I’ve been incredibly busy, so everything I’m working on at the moment has been in my mind. In terms of my own stuff, I feel like I could go into the studio and make another record right now, but that’s impractical, so I’m going to take my time and work slowly. I hope to have another release as soon as I can. [laughs]

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching that’s caught your attention?

JM: There’s so much in my mind right now, but I’ve been listening to the sound of wolves howling. I just listen to different recordings of wolves howling. I actually played some last night at my launch [show]. I came across somebody posting something about wolves howling, and I thought about how it’s such a beautiful type of communication. I wish we could communicate like that instead of the Internet. I wish we could go outside and howl longingly and talk about this fucking fucked up world. So basically, yeah, that’s what I would say is what I’m most thinking about at the moment.

[cutshawsnidowoa]

Cats in Heat: What Exactly Happens?

The post Cats in Heat: What Exactly Happens? by Catster HQ appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

The symptoms of cats in heat can try the patience of even the most loving pet owners, which is why veterinarians recommend having female cats spayed before the first heat cycle occurs. Cats in heat have entered the phase of the feline reproduction cycle that’s characterized by her receptiveness to males and to mating. This phase is also known as estrus. In the world of cat breeding, unspayed females are known as “queens.”

What is cat estrus? When do cats first go into heat?

When do cats first go into heat? Photography ©Voren1 | Thinkstock.

Cat estrus begins as animals reach sexual maturity, usually at about six months of age, although some cats will go into heat as early as four months and others as late as 10 to 12 months.

Cats are considered to be polyestrous, meaning they have several heat cycles a year (in contrast to dogs, which are diestrous and typically have two heat cycles a year). This means that breeding cats can produce a litter at any time of the year, even though springtime is often considered to be “kitten season.”

Signs of estrus or cats in heat:

Even if you’ve never been around cats in heat before, you’re very likely to know something is going on with your pet — the behaviors she uses to get the attention of a potential mate will no doubt get your attention as well. The signs of cats in heat or cats experiencing estrus can mimic signs of pain or distress in your cat, and include the following:

Your cat is likely to become extremely affectionate, constantly rubbing up against you, other animals in the household or even the furniture.

When you stroke or pet your cat, she may instinctively assume the mating position, with her head down low and hindquarters raised high.

She’ll become noticeably more vocal, and her vocalizations will include unusually loud yowls that are designed to gain the attention of a mate.

She may spray a fine stream of urine around your home as she marks her territory in an effort to lure in a mate.

Your cat may exhibit restless pacing, or may roll back and forth on the floor constantly.

Cats in heat may lose their appetites completely.

In some cases, cats in heat may persistently lick their genitals, which are likely to be engorged and swollen. You may also notice a bloody discharge.

Your cat may make continued attempts to escape from your home in her efforts to find a mate. This may include clawing at window screens or dashing out the door when it opens.

How to handle cats in heat:

If you don’t want kittens, keep cats in heat indoors. If cats in heat do get out, they’re more at risk for contracting infectious diseases, such as feline leukemia, from any infected male cats that they attempt to breed with.

Remember that responsible cat breeders carefully screen and select the male cats they breed with their queens, not only to ensure a purebred pedigree, but also to prevent such transmission of disease.

How long are cats in heat?

So, how long are cats in heat? Typically, the estrous phase will last between a week and 10 days. However, if your cat isn’t able to mate and become pregnant, she’ll very likely go into heat again sometime within the next three weeks. Some cats who aren’t allowed to breed may seem to be more or less constantly in heat.

How can you prevent a cat from going into heat?

The only way to prevent the heat cycle from repeating over and over again, along with the distress it causes both you and your pet, is to have your female cat spayed. It is a myth that cats should be allowed to go through one heat cycle or even to have one litter before spaying. Early spaying is widely regarded as the most ethical course for pet owners to take, in light of the millions of animals who are euthanized at pet shelters each year. It’s simply irresponsible to bring another litter of kittens into the world when there are already too few homes for existing animals.

Spaying is considered major surgery because it involves entering the abdomen to remove both ovaries and the uterus, yet the procedure is safe and routine when performed by a qualified vet. And although it’s possible to perform the surgery at any time of the estrous cycle, most veterinarians decline to spay cats in heat because the engorged blood vessels in the reproductive organs create an increased risk of heavy bleeding.

Thumbnail: Photography by karamysh / Shutterstock.

This piece was originally published in 2012.

About the authors

Catster is a cat magazine and cat website where cat lovers come together and learn about everything from weird cat sounds to serious feline health concerns. Subscribe to Catster magazine at catster.com/subscribe. Reach out here. Or, connect with us on Catster’s online community.

Read more about cats in heat and reproduction on Catster.com:

4 Signs of a Cat in Heat

How to Care for a Pregnant Cat

The 5 Stages of Cat Pregnancy

The post Cats in Heat: What Exactly Happens? by Catster HQ appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

from Catster https://www.catster.com/cat-health-care/cats-in-heat via IFTTT

[theglitchedworld]

Glitched - Chapter Twelve

The iron went from warm to so freezing cold it felt hot again the moment it hit my bare skin. The next instant, agony shot through me, sending me to my knees with a choked off cry. Magic surged through my body, much worse than anything Emelia had done with my shoulder, but, unlike then, blessed unconsciousness didn't claim me.

I could feel my bones breaking as the magic pushed new material into them, changing and lengthening them as they rehealed. From my skull all the way down to the smallest bone in my feet, they smashed and burned their way into new forms. My skin tore as the bones forcibly lengthened, shredding apart where it couldn't grow fast enough to adapt. The muscles, nerves, and blood vessels slithered like worms over the pink stretches of freshly exposed bone as they worked to reattach themselves to their traditional places.

I wanted to scream.

I didn't have the vocal cords to do it. My throat was in pieces that crawled like millions of snakes worming their way around the elongated bones of my spine to create a more masculine structure. Somehow, even with my nerves not being connected right, I could still feel the crawly, wormy sensation all over my body under the waves of pain.

My stomach churned. Partly because the pain and slimy, crawling sensation all over my body was making me want to throw up. And partly because it felt like someone had rammed what had to be a white hot iron bar into my groin. If my ears had been capable of hearing sound, I'm sure I would have heard my flesh sizzling as the bar was dragged back out, pulling me inside out as it did. I threw up part of the way through it. Or at least I tried to.

I sobbed for it to stop. Tears streamed down my face from my eyes even as those eyes distorted and reformed. My nose ran even as it broke and pieced itself back together. I clawed at the floor, my skin, the walls, anything I could reach with nails that peeled back and forced themselves out anew on fingers that twisted, shattered, and lengthened as I watched.

I was dying. I had to be. No one could live through being shredded and reformed like this. Only the sheer weight of the magic streaming into me from that damned iron chain forced me to remain in my destroyed body. Forced me to remain conscious. Forced me to be aware of every moment of the torment.

And then it was over.

I lay curled on the cold stone floor. I felt weaker than a newborn kitten. I had no energy left to do anything more than drag in one agonizing breath after another through my raw throat. I shook with the aftermath, shivering violently like someone who'd just had a terrible fever break. I felt completely and utterly drained.

I had been wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. There was no way that chain had been made as anything other than a torture device. I couldn't even imagine how the victims of the crimes it was used as a punishment for could have bared to endure it. It had felt like days that I'd writhed on the floor as it forcibly remade me into a new mold, but later I would learn that bare minutes had past since I'd left the others.

Slowly, my strength and energy returned. I held up a hand before my face, staring blankly at the wider, blockier form. It didn't look like mine any longer, but it wasn't unfamiliar either. I pushed myself to my hands and knees, raising my head to look in the silver mirror.

A familiar face looked back at me. It was similar to mine, enough that we could have been brother and sister back in the real world. We shared the same muddy brown eyes and the dark brown of our hair - though I think maybe his was a bit darker, almost black - but his brow was heavier with thicker eyebrows, the jaw stronger with a wider chin than mine. A dusky haze shadowed the curves of his cheeks, but otherwise he was clean shaven. His nose was stronger, the tip curving up a little more than mine did, yet still having the same unfortunate crookedness near the bridge that had marred my own nose. For the record, I really don't recommend tackling the steepest hill you can find when you're still having trouble staying upright when skating. I was lucky I got off with just a broken nose.

I blinked at my reflection. Raising my hand, I almost clocked myself in the face before I realized my arm was longer than it had been. Once I realized it, I managed to adjust the motion, dragging my fingertips awkwardly over the planes of my face as I stared into the mirror. It was astonishing how much I looked like my father.

I never thought I'd see this face again.

I climbed to my feet. My head felt light as I stood, a rush of vertigo as my body struggled to adjust to the sudden change in elevation. I was taller than I had been before. Maybe six or even ten inches. My shoulders were wider, my arms and chest more developed with muscle. Certain... other dimensions had definitely changed as well. Thank God the men of my family tended to the less hairy side of things. I wasn't sure I could deal with being a bear on top of everything else. But the more I looked into the mirror, the less I could deny it.

This was almost the same body as my avatar from The Bested World outside of the face that was almost creepily like that of someone from my family and a few extra inches of height. Other than that, I was that Theron again. From the top of my head to the four parallel scars on my side where I'd had a nasty encounter with a wolf demon in my first year of play even down to the angle of my... actually, that part wasn't important.

The important thing was I knew this body.

For all that my brain was giving me fits over the height adjustment. I'd kept my height matching my real height of five foot in The Bested World, but apparently this system wanted me to be taller. It was awkward and hard to get used to my longer arms and legs. I'd have to spend time in this body getting used to it before I could even hope to get myself into the corrupted army's ranks.

Which meant no going back to my normal body for a while.

To be honest, that didn't bother me a bit after the experience of changing into my male form. I could only imagine how bad being changed back would be. Actually, I didn't want to imagine it. All it would do would make me try to avoid it and for all the benefits a male body might have, my normal body was more comfortable. And at some point, this thing's power would be used up and I'd have to go through with it whether I wanted to or not.

Oh what a wonderful thing to have to look forward to.

I shook my head at my own absurd thoughts. As it was, Crysal had only just stopped giving me crap about playing a guy in The Bested World. She was probably going to have a regular field day with it now. But however she decided to behave, I needed clothes. The oversized shirt of Crysal's I'd been using wouldn't even fit, let alone actually cover the important bits. Sadly, my new boots were probably in the same boat. And I'd only just gotten them too!

My gaze caught on the heavy armoire as I looked about the room. It seemed promising. And Radani had told me I could use anything I found in the room.

"I just hope everything isn't to the same scale as the rest of the room," I murmured before stopping with a hand raised to my throat. "Ok. That will definitely take some getting used to."

My voice was much deeper than I was used to hearing. It was strange. I'd always had my voice in The Bested World. Hearing what I could only guess were the new normal tones of my reformed throat was just surreal. I made myself ignore it as I crossed the room to the armoire. After all, it was much easier to focus on the fact that I tripped over my own damn feet at least three times before I managed to reach it.

    When I came out of the room, I still felt weak as a kitten and my stomach was growling like an angry dog had taken up residence, but at least I'd managed to find a pair of loose pants that relatively fit and had my older clothes bundled up in one hand. I'd needed to borrow the sash from a weird looking dress to stand in for a belt to hold them up, but at least I wasn't flashing everyone. No shirt though. I was starting to feel like I was condemned to forever only have half of my clothes at any given time.

I'd managed to tie my hair back into a ponytail with a bit of ribbon, so at least I didn't have a bad butter or shampoo commercial moment going on. I really needed to get a haircut. Maybe Crysal could help, though I wasn't sure how safe it was to let her have anything sharp around my neck. Walking was still taking way more concentration that I liked, though I had to admit that I was developing a new found appreciation for why teen boys looked so damn awkward all the time. Growth spurts sucked.

    "Sorry it took so long," I said as I opened the door. My deeper voice still weirded me out a little. "Whatever sick freak came up with this thing needs to be dug up, resurrected, and shot out of a cannon. Preferably into a vat of acid."

Everyone was staring at me.

I suppose I could understand it. I mean I was at least six inches taller. And a guy. Ok. That part was probably a little more surprising. Even if it had been the whole reason I went through with all that crap earlier.

"What?" I frowned, rubbing at my face. The stubble on my cheeks prickled my palm. Great. Now I needed to shave too. Does this place even have razors? "Something on my face?"

"It worked..." Radani's rumble sounded surprised.

"Wait, you thought it wouldn't?!" My voice cracked embarrassingly as I stared at him. "What did you think was going to happen?!"

"Well... we, I suppose," Moreina began, looking aside, a blush tinging the height of her cheeks, "that we weren't certain it would work. It has been more than two hundred years since it was used last. It was possible that the... charge would no longer be strong enough to cause a full change."

"Ugh." I scrubbed a hand through my hair, not trusting my balance enough to do more than glare at the ground. "I can't believe you didn't even know it would work..."

"Hey!" Tomy's outburst accompanied by a surprised little squeak from his little sister made me look up.

Crysal was on her feet. Staring at me. The staring part wasn't new, but the fact that she'd all but dumped poor little Shel on the ground to jump up was. The staring was starting to get more than a little unnerving.

"W-what?" I took a step back almost without thinking. "Crys, come on. You're freaking me out here."

"It's-" She shook her head, reaching up to scrub at her face with both hands. When she lowered her hands again, for a split second, she looked like someone had just murdered her favorite puppy right in front of her and then started cooking it. "It's not fair."

I couldn't find any words to respond. I didn't know how to react. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open like a hanger for flies. I had only known her a couple weeks, so I probably didn't have nearly enough context to base my stunned response on, but I'd never heard her sounding so... I didn't know how to describe it. Her voice just sounded hollow. Like everything that made her her had drained out and evaporated.

I tried to smile, but it couldn't have looked good with how forced it felt. "Not fair? Trust me, you really didn't want to go through what I just did." My attempt at laughing the awkward atmosphere off fell about as flat as a mud balloon.

"You're a girl." Not this again. I really wasn't in the mood. But she kept going, her hands dropping to ball into fists at her side, shoulders trembling so much even I could see it across the room. "Theron's a girl. He's...you're not a guy at all. You... he... you never were a guy, were you?"

I groaned. I couldn't help it. "Dammit, not that again. How many times do I have to tell you that?! I'm me! Yeah, I was a girl! Would you deal with whatever your issue is and get over it already?!" I flung my arms out to my sides, only missing knocking anything over by virtue of not being close enough to hit anything. "I've always told you the truth about who I am!"

"I know." She sounded like a lost little girl as she stared at the ground, her shoulders slumping. The irritation I was feeling shriveled into a tiny knot and faded away as I watched her. "I know you have. I just..." She shook her head, still not looking at me. "It's not fair. I wanted... It's not fair."

Before anyone could stop her, she turned and bolted from the room. The door out to the hall actually slammed behind her, unlike my efforts with the one to the bedchamber. I slowly stopped, staring at the closed door in confusion, having started moving towards her without realizing it.

"What-" I stopped, shaking my head.

It didn't makes sense. Not that much of anything made any real sense in this messed up world. Goat people and bull people and messed up chains that ripped you apart and knitted you back together in a different form and God only knew what else. But even all that made more sense than my being a girl not being fair of all damn things.

"What the hell just happened?" I finally asked. I felt completely bewildered. We'd been getting along. I thought we had a chance of actually getting to be friends. And now?

Moreina sighed and rose to her feet. "Radani, if you'll please see our guests to their chambers, I'll go and see if I can discover what's troubling our young friend. If the records are accurate, I'm sure Theron will be wanting more to eat to replace the energy used in his change."

"Wait. I can go-" I started to protest, only to be stopped by Radani's hand settling on my shoulder. Even as a guy, his hand was freaking massive compared to me.

He shook his head. "My queen can find her much more quickly with her connection to the castle. You have my word that she won't come to any harm while in our walls. Please. Allow me to take the three of you to your rooms. There should be another meal waiting for you by the time we arrive."

My brows furrowed. The whole thing had me feeling uncomfortable but I couldn't really express why. Finally, I gave in to my stomach's piteous grumbling, pushing the whole uncomfortable issue of Crysal's outburst to the back of my mind.

"Alright. But can there please be clothes that fit me too?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject. "I'm getting a little tired of only wearing half an outfit and this place is nice and all, but the floors are a bit cold."

Radani laughed as he led us from the room. "I imagine it can be arranged."

    I didn't realize at the time that it would be weeks before we'd see Crysal again.

[black-strike-otp]

part 51

Poor Scorpy just doesn’t understand! q= It’s okay, buddy, you can always come over and watch tv with me while ur bestie is out smoochin his girl.

Scroll scroll scroll. Tap tap tap. Scroll scroll scroll.

“Sir, I have the reports on supplies in cargo. Its been checked and rechecked by two separate teams, all numbers showing up the same.”

Looking up from his datapad, Blackout glanced at the mech standing in front of him. “Alright,” he responded in a commanding tone, “Have the logs delivered to my personal datapad.”

“Already done, sir. ‘Raider also had his files sent to you; there’s another unaccounted for loss in energon. About twelve cubes this time. The numbers seem to steadily increase and decrease; it’s a bit hard to keep track because the numbers keep being altered.”

A thoughtful guttural sound seeped out of the obsidian giant mech. “I’ll look it over. In the mean time, I want the entire shift of bots standing guard during what schedules sent to me. I’ll speak with Guard about having daily rations reported every six jours or so; we’ll be able to start pinpointing the shift in alterations depending on who’s on duty more efficiently that way.”

“Aye, sir,” the mech stated, dipping his helm slightly.

It was a bit unnerving to be given so much respect. The appreciation for his work was constant; there was no sign of malice from anybot (well, save for one) in the past couple weeks of being an official commanding officer. The rogues took to it rather well, even with the faded remains of the Decepticon logo still upon his shoulders.

“You’re dismissed,” Blackout rumbled. “Thank you for keeping me informed.”

“Anything you need sir, just let me know,” the bot responded before turning heel and departing the bridge.

Shifting uncomfortably in the large chair pinpointed near the helm of the ship originally meant for Guard, Blackout turn to look at the other bots at work in the command center. Most of the servoful in the room were busy checking calculations, keeping an optic on the power gauge in the thrusters, and generally staying productive. Two were chattering quietly to each other under their breath, and another seemed to be busy playing some sort of game they managed to install on their console and sending messages out to other bots.

If this was the Nemesis, those bots would be getting a quick kick in the rear, if not becoming slag. In this case however, Blackout couldn’t see the harm in allowing the bots their freedom. They weren’t soldiers; they were rogues, surviving, living. Training perhaps on their scheduled times but otherwise in no position of harm.

Flicking his optics back down to the screen in front of him, the intimidating titanic mech closed his current screen and pulled up the datafiles that were indeed, in his message center just as reported. He opened up the cargo file and began to scan through the list of materials stocked and what was running low to make mental note on what could be picked up when they were out next and what might be a good idea to still look for that they had none of.

As he glanced over the information, a ping signaled his personal comm system. Blackout tapped the side of his helm.

“Commander Blackout,” he growled quietly.

“Ah, sounds like you’re handling your title well,” an ecstatic voice charmingly replied.

Straightening his posture in the chair, Blackout cleared his vocalizer, “Guard, sir, what can I do for you?”

“At ease, son,” the mech’s voice chuckled over the comm. “I just got a report from the cargo area, everything looks reasonable on my end.”

“Agreed.”

“Neutroboost informed me that we’re about two jours out from the debris field we picked up a few days ago. I was hoping you’d be willing to take a team out to scout the area for supplies?”

“Of course,” Blackout answered swiftly. “I will have my team assembled. While I have your attention, sir, I would like to request we have the wardens of the energon storage work jours altered and have reports on the energon stock reported in to the commanding officers every six jours. We may be able to pick up easier on our culprit by narrowing down when energon stock is fluctuating, who was guarding at the time, and who went to get energon then.”

“An excellent idea. It sounds like the best we can do anyway, without a proper security system. Be sure to keep your optics out for one by the way when you’re out. I like the way you think, Blackout. We made a great decision putting you in charge.”

A brief and nervous laugh issued from the former Decepticon. “You are the one in charge of the Rising Star, Guard, do not think anybot has forgotten that.”

“I may be a preferable and likable bot that many trust, but I am not the only one leading this vessel. I will see you in two jours then, at the docking area. I’m sorry to have thrown you in on my duties today-”

“No need for apologies, Guard,” Blackout quietly responded, turning away from the crew fully so no one could hopefully hear him or read his mouth as he continued, “Listen to the medic and stay off your pedes if your leg is bothering you that much.”

Amused notes emitted from the recipient of Blackout’s words. “You never cease to surprise me. You arrived with much the same attitude you had in the pits of Kaon; perhaps somewhat wiser and more collected, and look how far you’ve come. I’m very proud of you. I think your femme might be rubbing off on you a bit, too.”

An embarrassed rumbling echoed in Blackout’s chassis. He didn’t exactly know how to respond to Guard’s words. Admittedly a part of him was elated to please the old bot. He respected Guard a lot; much more than he thought possible. But then again, another part of him; probably the larger part, was simply self-conscious. This was the same mech who urged him to follow his spark; who saw his feelings for Novastrike even when he bit and barked and fought against them and against her.

Guard was rooting for him even when he was unwilling to cheer himself on or fight for what he really wanted. There was a lot of discomfort in trying to feel positive feelings all your life you ignored and burned inside of you.

“My sympathies if I took a step too far-”

“No,” Blackout quickly interrupted. “Thank you, sir, I value and appreciate your perspective immensely. Thank you.”

“Always with the ‘sir’,” Guard chuckled. “Well thank you regardless Blackout; I’ll see you in two jours. In the mean time would you mind leaving the command center? I’ll be sending Neutroboost in to hold the fort for a while, you go enjoy some down time.”

“Understood, Guard.”

With a soft chatter of static, the comm link connection went dead. Removing his digit from the side of his helm, Blackout released a short vent and pushed himself up and out of the massive carved structure of metal he had seated in. The members of the crew instantly looked up to him expectedly.

“At ease,” Blackout growled in his thick voice. “I’ll be taking leave of the bridge; Neutroboost should be here shortly. In the temporary span of time I’m gone and the other commanding officer arrives, Circuitbreaker is in charge.”

“Yes,” a femme hissed off to the side, doing a small fist bump in the air.

“Damn,” mumbled another mech. “Left with that fragger Neutroboost.”

Nodding to the rest who offered polite goodbyes and ignoring the humorous and understandable groans that Neutroboost would soon be coming, Blackout stepped out of the command room. His pedes carried him down a strip of the hallway not too terribly far from the bow of the ship and down a short turn off towards what would normally be the captain’s quarters.

The door to the room had only barely opened when a white flash bolted across the floor and latched onto Blackout’s leg.

“I missed you,” Novastrike whined loudly, looking up at him with those round stunning blue optics and that faintly puckered lower wobbly lip.

Snorting his laughter to keep from sounding too mocking, Blackout offered a slight smile down at the tiny femme. “I missed you too. What have you been doing while I was on deck? Sitting around waiting for me?” he teased.

“No!” Nova quickly responded in a miffed voice. “I was out hanging in the lounge area for a while. Then I joined in to help be one of the squad members rechecking the cargo bay supplies, then I went and sparred a bit and Scorponok ended up joining in.”

“Sounds like a much more eventful day than me,” responded the mech with a grin, glancing around. After a moment’s search he spotted Scorponok, the little bugger standing off to the side and looking to him.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” insisted the small femme. “I also helped the medic clean a lot of the med-bay today. Cleaning the med-bay, can you imagine? That place is spotless! It was already pristine you know; she doesn’t let things go unchecked, but she insisted I wasn’t cleaning things well enough! Thank Primus Guard was there to help keep her settled.”

As she mentioned the old mech, Blackout felt a slight sting of worry. It seemed he wasn’t the only one; as he watched the eagerness in Novastrike’s expression begin to fade and a look of concern begin to color her optics and her face.

“He’s getting worse,” Nova quietly whispered. “I can tell.”

“He’s a tough mech,” Blackout slowly spoke. “I wouldn’t count him out yet. With some rest, a little work from the doc, he’ll be moving around again. He’s pretty determined.”

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was like he was grooming you for the position of commanding officer,” teased the femme.

Blackout had to swallow; trying to get the strangely dry sensation to leave his throat. It was a thought that had crossed his processor before too. He’d rather not consider it.

The light slowly began to die from Novastrike’s optics and she began to frown slightly as she looked at him. “Crazy thought, huh?” she pressured.

“Very crazy,” Blackout agreed, offering a waning smile.

She didn’t seem to buy it. There was still a troubled look about her face that made him feel awful for allowing even a brief moment of hesitation. He already felt bad enough thinking it himself, he didn’t want her musing the same tragic thoughts.

“Hey, I have a question for you. More like a request,” Blackout remarked; his voice turning softer, the undertones having gradually ebbed out of his voice.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“In roughly two jours, we’ll be entering a drifting wreckage; likely from an Autobot/Decepticon confrontation of some sort. I was hoping you’d be up for joining me on the first team dispatched to go looking through the cache.”

Emitting a light hum, Novastrike stroked her digits up and down his leg gently as she beamed up at him. The smile on her face only seemed to draw a foolish one from Blackout himself. Scrap his own reactions; he couldn’t help himself. The impression of her digits moving against his armor left every circuit nerve buzzing with electricity.

“I don’t know,” Nova slowly replied. “That sounds lot an awful lot of third wheels for a date.”

“Always a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” Blackout joked with a broad grin. “What do you want me to do? Beg?”

“Oooh that sounds delicious~ Why don’t you try that?”

“So can I mark you down as absent then?” he growled playfully.

“Poo, you’re no fun,” Nova pouted. “No, I’d be glad to come. I was just hoping I could get you to entertain me a little more.”

Blackout raised an optic ridge slightly. Playing ignorant to the fact that his partner was in the room and was probably going to make fun of him later for doing so, he shifted his legs in order to move to a kneeling position. His servos carefully slid around Novastrike’s body until she detached from his leg to allow herself to be plucked up and held in the air.

“Won’t you please come so that I am neither driven mad by mechs nor by my longing to see your lovely face?” he softly asked, offering an endearing slight smile as his dark optics regarded the small beauty in his grasp.

An enchanting radiant glow emerged from the tiny femme’s audio receptors. She squinted her optics at him in a show of irritation and puckered up her mouth as though she was infuriated. If she was irked with anything, it was probably how easily she went flush at such flattery and admiration, much deserved as it should be.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

“But I thought you wanted me to grovel. I can certainly do that if you want, dear. Please join me darling, I will hardly dare to breathe without you close by.”

“Stop, stop- I get it, you can stop now,” she grumbled.

Snickering quietly, Blackout carefully brought his servos close and kissed the top of Novastrike’s helm. Her ears jerked to and fro as he pulled her away and pressed against her helm as she tried to conceal some of the illumination that was emitting from them.

“I wasn’t entirely joking,” he vowed. “It’s always easier to get by when I have my guiding light with me.”

Huffing, Nova placed her servos on top of her audios as she glanced away. “Okaaayyy that’s enough now.”

“What if I’m not done?” he baited with a sly grin.

As she fidgeted in his servos, Blackout moved a single digit to brush down the length of her backstrut. Novastrike shivered at the brief contact; her entire frame visibly vibrating all over as her vents hitched.

“You don’t play fair,” she growled.

“You don’t either,” he reminded her. “It’s suddenly not okay for me to treasure and praise you, and how alluring you are? Or to mention how virtuous and angelic you are? That seems rather one-sided, dear. Have you looked in a mirror at all? You’re above every image of gods known and drawn; spoken and whispered in legend. A portrait of perfection.”

Stretching herself forward, Novastrike removed her servos from her faceplate and leaned in towards him. She reached too far and nearly fell but managed to make her point, placing her servos over his mouth while bending far forward.

“Shhhh,” she drew out in a slow breath. “Silence. No more.”

Dark light flashed in Blackout’s optics. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. Carefully bringing his servos closer to his face so that his beloved did not fall, the large mech braced his digits against her back to keep her from falling backwards and pressed a kiss against her servos.

“For all the arguments you may throw or any other voices who say otherwise, know that I will always and truthfully tell you that, Novastrike, you are gorgeous and have the most thoughtful, considerate, devoted, affectionate spark I’ve ever known. I may be the least deserving to be given the opportunity to receive your kindness and sentiment but I’ll be fragged if I don’t fight for, cherish, and defend every last bit of it to my dying breath.”

“By the Well of Allsparks Blackout,” Nova barely managed to whisper, “You don’t need to- to say all these sweet nothings- no bot is offlining or anything.”

Giving a sigh, Blackout stroked his digit gently against Nova’s backstrut once more. A purr quietly echoed through her armor and she twisted slightly on his palm. He went to replicate the gesture once more, and she mewled faintly; tail curling as she shuddered.

“I’m tired of simply existing and surving,” Blackout murmured as he caressed along her spine once more. “I want to live.”

An inquisitive light flashed in the femme’s optics as she looked upon him. With a faint tremble raking over her she placed her servo lightly against his cheek and leaned in to press her lips against beside her digits.

“You’re very kind and charming,” Nova softly spoke. “But I don’t think you have to worry, darling. You’re very much online. I’m very happy here, being with you. You don’t have much a fight ahead of you.”

“Mmm, it may yet be a fight to get you to agree with me on how marvelous you are,” he disagreed.

From the depths of the room, a sudden chirp escaped Scorponok: “Getting sick. Go away.”

As Novastrike pulled away and pressed a servo to her mouth to hide her giggles, Blackout shot his companion a furious scowl. The bug didn’t seemed bothered by the ugly glance and merely made a shooing motion with his drill.

“It seems someone doesn’t care for all the sappiness around here,” Novastrike chimed, looking over her shoulder at the bugger.

“Mood killer,” Blackout mocked, pressing a kiss to the side of Nova’s helm as she giggled.

“Gross,” Scorponok clicked. “Going blind. Nasty PDA.”

“It’s not very public, you just got stuck in the room and haven’t left,” Blackout opposed, moving his digit to lightly rub along his femme’s ears.

“Inconsiderate roommates,” the bug countered.

“Don’t worry Scorp, I can give you kisses next if you want,” Novastrike announced, pressing a kiss against Blackout’s cheek as he grinned a little further.

Each and every one of the scorpion’s four golden optics opened fully; unshuttering as he bore his gaze into them. He released a displeased hiss and scuttled back on his many pronged peg legs.

“Fine by me,” Blackout sniffed, pulling his femme closer. She made a faint squeaking sound as he brought her up a little further, pressing his helm lightly against hers. “Just means more for me.”

“Disgusting,” Scorponok responded in a dead, emotionless tone.

Laughing effortlessly, the small femme pressed a kiss in the space between his optics; her mouth curving into a larger smile.

“No where go?” Scorponok vaguely ushered. “No where be?”

“Mmm,” Blackout drawled out slowly. “I suppose we could head down to the hatch; I should probably make sure I get in contact with those I thought would be most helpful in bringing in supplies...”

“Good idea. Go away.”

“Bossy bot, isn’t he?” Novastrike murmured, pressing another kiss against his cheek as Blackout slowly brought her around to his shoulder. Her digits lightly trailed against the side of his face as he moved her; delicate and gentle.

“Just a touch,” Blackout agreed as she slowly climbed off his servo and on his shoulder.

“Thank Primus,” Scorponok all but wheezed.

Glancing to the side at Novastrike, Blackout offered her a slight shrug in response to his minicon’s behavior. Her precious laughter was a cheerful melody that had his spark throbbing.

Lifting her servo, Nova waved her digits at Scorponok as she reminded him thoughtfully, “Don’t miss us too much bud, we’ll be back later to snuggle and kiss in front of you all evening.”

“Please do not. Will leave.”

Dropping his arm to his side, Blackout very carefully moved to stand. His leg ached slightly from having been kneeling so long but he recovered and kept from wobbling on it as he moved slightly to get used to having weight equally dispersed on both limbs again. Giving a snide grin over at his long-time friend, the huge mech turned around and headed out the door.

“He’s going to grow to despise me, isn’t he?” Nova curiously asked.

“Not at all. If anything, he’ll grow to despise me more.”

“More? Oh dearest, no. He doesn’t despise you.”

“No, but I give him plenty of reasons to do so, don’t I?” Blackout stated with a flash of his derma.

Rolling her lovely blue optics, the femme gave a slight huff. “I was being serious with my question, you know.”

“I know,” Blackout mused. “And no, he won’t despise you. He likes you; enjoys your company. We just drive him crazy. He’ll go find his own space if we push him enough. I’ll make it up to him by taking him off the planet to spar so he had somewhere to dig and jump my aft all he wants.”

“Can’t say I don’t blame him for wanting to jump your aft; it’s a nice view back there.”

Blackout snapped his helm over to look at her so fast he got a mild whiplash.

“What?” she nervously squeaked with a shrug.

“Since when do you stare at my aft?”

“When haven’t I stared at your aft, honestly.”

“So much for all that innocence you play so well.”

“Like you haven’t bothered looking at mine!”

“Never,” Blackout disagreed, sticking his helm up high.

Nova cocked her helm to the side and offered a long stare of disbelief. Her optics narrowed just a smidgen and her mouth went in a straight line.

“Never?” she repeated.

“Hardly ever?” Blackout fixed, shrugging as he offered a meek smile.

“So are you chivalrous, or saying my aft isn’t nice to look at?” she quizzed.

Oh Primus, not this. He wasn’t ready for this. If he was organic, he’d probably be sweating bullets.

Shifting his optics off to the side, the imposing mech gave a quiet cough as he muttered, “It’s an exceptional view, I’m simply being a gracious gentlemech.”

Glancing slowly back to Novastrike, Blackout watched as she considered his words. A digit tapped lightly against her mouth, which she was trying to hide as a smile was daring to break out from her facade blank expression.

“Acceptable,” she finally stated, reaching over to lightly nudge the side of his helm. “I was only messing with you, handsome devil.”

Rebounding thunder rumbled in his chassis in response as he reached up to lightly scratch along her ears. An immediate purr reverberated in her chassis as well in response to the contact. It brought a warming sensation into Blackout’s spark to see her smile and relax into his digits so peacefully.

Carrying along down the length of the corridor, the big mech flicked his optics forward and slowly brought his arm back down. The very last thing he wanted to do was become too caught up once again with Novastrike. The last time he was that distracted... he flinched inwardly, recalling Guard’s knowing grin and how awkward and tense he’d felt during their entire conversation thereafter. It took him days to be able to even look the mech in the optic without having to immediately glance somewhere else.

Either understanding why his reclusive nature returned or being polite regardless, Novastrike allowed a comfortable silence to drift between them. She scooted a bitch closer to lean her helm very lightly against the side of his own however, only just bothering to sit up completely straight again when she noticed someone heading their way.

“Should we stop at the med-bay and check up on Guard?” questioned the femme softly.

Blackout gave a light shake of his helm. “If he doesn’t show up at the hatch, we’ll go check on him. I don’t him thinking like we find him too fragile that we need to baby him.”

Continuing past the medical room and onward, Blackout brought the pair of them at the other end of the transport ship and to the doors for the loading and unloading dock area. Stepping through and into the air locked room, already a few of the bots were assembled and moving around.

Each of them turned their helms as they entered and instantly offered gratifying and warm welcomes and greetings. Some of them nodded or inclined their helms respectfully towards the warrior from the Gladiator Pits, leaving much like earlier, another wave of pleasant shock to course through Blackout.

“Afternoon, everyone,” Blackout rumbled. “Give me a moment, I need to ping everyone else to adjourn here so that we can have a little debriefing before we come in proximity of the debris field.”

“Take your time.”

“It’s a’ight Blackout, we was jus’ stretchin’ ‘n meetin’ up!”

Moving his optics slightly over to Novastrike, Blackout offered her a servo. She hopped on willingly and allowed herself to be lowered to the floor. Turning away from the majority of the group, Blackout pressed a digit against the comm link on the side of his helm and sent out private pings to the mechs and femmes not yet in the room. The attention from everyone else in the room upon him even as he spoke quietly was like a spotlight of burning optics upon his hide. It wasn’t an unfamiliar situation; but the views of these bots upon him seemed to matter a lot more than he ever recalled any bots on the Nemesis ever mattering.

Turning back towards those already assembled, the bots quickly went to huddle together and appear as if they hadn’t been staring or peeking his way. The only one who seemed ashamed to be caught staring of course, had the most startling many-hues of blue optics he’d ever witnessed.

“As a non-flyer, I get a free pass on going with any bot I want, right?” Nova asked softly. She probably wasn’t completely unheard though; some of the bots were compacted fairly close to herself and subsequently, Blackout.

Sucking in a cool rush of air, Blackout released it slowly as he studied the femme. “Of course, I wouldn’t trap you with any bot you may not be comfortable with. Although I won’t have a say much when we return from our first trip; as a trusted adviser of logging the cargo, I’m sure Guard will ask you to stay and help catalog items.”

“I’m sure he will,” Novastrike agreed, “and I’ll stay and do that, if it’s asked of me. As for who I’m going to ride with, I was just wondering if maybe you had a teeny bit of space to let little me fly with you?~ I promise not to be too distracting.”

Even with the crowd, Blackout couldn’t resist scowling at her. “Yeah,” he thickly growled. “We’ll see about that.”

The musical giggling she produced was too damn cute. He felt spellbound, grinning like a dingus without reason.

Primus he hoped things could stay this simple for a long, long time.

[cutshawsnidowoa]

Cats in Heat: What Exactly Happens?

The post Cats in Heat: What Exactly Happens? by Catster HQ appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

The symptoms of cats in heat can try the patience of even the most loving pet owners, which is why veterinarians recommend having female cats spayed before the first heat cycle occurs. Cats in heat have entered the phase of the feline reproduction cycle that’s characterized by her receptiveness to males and to mating. This phase is also known as estrus. In the world of cat breeding, unspayed females are known as “queens.”

What is cat estrus? When do cats first go into heat?

When do cats first go into heat? Photography ©Voren1 | Thinkstock.

Cat estrus begins as animals reach sexual maturity, usually at about six months of age, although some cats will go into heat as early as four months and others as late as 10 to 12 months.

Cats are considered to be polyestrous, meaning they have several heat cycles a year (in contrast to dogs, which are diestrous and typically have two heat cycles a year). This means that breeding cats can produce a litter at any time of the year, even though springtime is often considered to be “kitten season.”

Signs of estrus or cats in heat:

Even if you’ve never been around cats in heat before, you’re very likely to know something is going on with your pet — the behaviors she uses to get the attention of a potential mate will no doubt get your attention as well. The signs of cats in heat or cats experiencing estrus can mimic signs of pain or distress in your cat, and include the following:

Your cat is likely to become extremely affectionate, constantly rubbing up against you, other animals in the household or even the furniture.

When you stroke or pet your cat, she may instinctively assume the mating position, with her head down low and hindquarters raised high.

She’ll become noticeably more vocal, and her vocalizations will include unusually loud yowls that are designed to gain the attention of a mate.

She may spray a fine stream of urine around your home as she marks her territory in an effort to lure in a mate.

Your cat may exhibit restless pacing, or may roll back and forth on the floor constantly.

Cats in heat may lose their appetites completely.

In some cases, cats in heat may persistently lick their genitals, which are likely to be engorged and swollen. You may also notice a bloody discharge.

Your cat may make continued attempts to escape from your home in her efforts to find a mate. This may include clawing at window screens or dashing out the door when it opens.

How to handle cats in heat:

If you don’t want kittens, keep cats in heat indoors. If cats in heat do get out, they’re more at risk for contracting infectious diseases, such as feline leukemia, from any infected male cats that they attempt to breed with.

Remember that responsible cat breeders carefully screen and select the male cats they breed with their queens, not only to ensure a purebred pedigree, but also to prevent such transmission of disease.

How long are cats in heat?

So, how long are cats in heat? Typically, the estrous phase will last between a week and 10 days. However, if your cat isn’t able to mate and become pregnant, she’ll very likely go into heat again sometime within the next three weeks. Some cats who aren’t allowed to breed may seem to be more or less constantly in heat.

How can you prevent a cat from going into heat?

The only way to prevent the heat cycle from repeating over and over again, along with the distress it causes both you and your pet, is to have your female cat spayed. It is a myth that cats should be allowed to go through one heat cycle or even to have one litter before spaying. Early spaying is widely regarded as the most ethical course for pet owners to take, in light of the millions of animals who are euthanized at pet shelters each year. It’s simply irresponsible to bring another litter of kittens into the world when there are already too few homes for existing animals.

Spaying is considered major surgery because it involves entering the abdomen to remove both ovaries and the uterus, yet the procedure is safe and routine when performed by a qualified vet. And although it’s possible to perform the surgery at any time of the estrous cycle, most veterinarians decline to spay cats in heat because the engorged blood vessels in the reproductive organs create an increased risk of heavy bleeding.

Thumbnail: Photography by karamysh / Shutterstock.

This piece was originally published in 2012.

Read more about cats in heat and reproduction on Catster.com:

4 Signs of a Cat in Heat

How to Care for a Pregnant Cat

The 5 Stages of Cat Pregnancy

The post Cats in Heat: What Exactly Happens? by Catster HQ appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

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