#if you find a cat outside it's good practice to look for chip or collar

[the-adventures-of-dave]

funniest two posts to see back to back

[gh0ulie-gh0st]

Muzzled

Pairing: Swiss Army Ghoul/Multi Ghoul x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: 🍋 18+ Content 🍋, Male Sub, Collars, Leashes, Spanking, Monster Ghouls.

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN LINK

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“I don’t know why you agreed to this?” Aether commented from your left as he leaned over the back of a chair, arms folded, and peered at your hand of cards. It wasn’t looking good, but you had your last few chips. Swiss was sat across from you, looking smug behind the new, goggled masks his tongue peeking out from between his clenched, smirking teeth.

“Just give up, sweet thing.” Swiss purred as he put his hands on top of his cards as he let you debate your options.

Ignoring the teasing fire ghoul across from you, you looked at Aether with serious eyes, “Because he’s given me the ultimate reward if I beat him at his favourite game, Aether, that’s why.” You deadpanned as you nodded to Swiss.

“I’m still here, you know.” He told you as he flipped over his hand his fangs glinting in the shadow of his leather mask, “And that, I think, is game.”

You hummed at his hand, a four of a kind. It was a winning hand against any of his brothers and sisters, but you had one better. You smiled politely as you turned over your cards, “Straight flush.”

 There was silence. Dewdrop’s playing paused as he stood up, guitar neck in hand, to look at the table where the poker hand sat on top of the polished wood. Swiss’ grabby hands around the poker chips twitched as his mouth fell open and you pushed them aside so you could drag them over to your own side of the table.

“No way…” Swiss mumbled as he looked down at your hand, his claws falling against the table as he pouted.

“Nice try, Swissy.” You teased as you pocketed your winnings, “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little bet. You owe me.” You pointed between his goggled eyes, “Anything I want, right?”

Swiss leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, looking rather smug about losing a bet, “Mhmm. Anything you want me to do, name it, and I’ll do it.” He flashed his white teeth in a pretty but threatening time before he blew air out of his nose, “I can’t believe I lost money to you.”

“You better believe it, baby.” You joked as you swiped at Rain as the water ghoul tried to not so subtly steal your drink and snack from the table.

“Oh, I believe it.” Swiss drawled, “But I don’t believe you have the balls to do anything with your little prize.”

 You felt your lips twitch at the challenge.

 “Oh, don’t worry.” You pocketed the chips and finished your drink before Rain could steal a sip again, “I’m saving it for a special occasion.” It was a heavy promise that hung in the air as you closed your little bag and patted Aether between the horns as a goodbye.

“I can’t wait.” Swiss sang as you left, his teeth snapping mockingly as you closed the door behind you. You made sure that your heels snapped against the floor as you walked up the halls, loud enough to give the vocalist enough to ruminate on before you cashed in your little favour.

 Swiss was angsty for the next week and a half, his tail writhing as you brushed past him in the halls, your hands firmly at your sides as you smiled pleasantly. The ghoul was frustrated, but he hid it well behind white smiles and gentle waves as you passed by one another in the small passages in the lower areas of the ministry. It was commonly where the ghouls went to sort themselves, be that carnally, with their hunger needs or with outfitting requirements, and the ghoul was often down in the bowels just roaming between practice and his other minor duties. There wasn’t a lot for him to do outside of tending to small rituals and prayers before and after practice, hence he was often found harassing one of his band mates or a sibling who was carrying out their own tasks. Finding this out, Swiss, and his other band mates, had quickly been given more tasks to fill in their days, much to both fire ghoul’s chagrin. You knew they both enjoyed being allowed to laze around like cats, but you much preferred seeing them forced to actually do some work for a change, much like their rhythm guitarist band mate.

 It also kept him away from harassing you about your little bet, which you had yet to cash in, and for that you were thankful as you hummed down the hallway from the postal area, your latest purchases tucked firmly under your arm as you unlocked the door to your quarters and tucked yourself inside. As you sang to yourself, you turned the lights on and placed the packages down on your small vanity before a rumbling purr sounded from your bed.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The fire ghoul purred, his uniform perfectly pressed, his stiff boots kicked up on your bed, and a rose clutched in his clawed hand, his glamour faltering as he turned on his back and threw his head back, his leather mask’s goggles glinting in the light, hiding the golden eyes inside.

“Swiss.” You groaned before he stuck the rose between his pointed teeth, “Really?” You sighed as you approached the bed and plucked the rose from his mouth, “Don’t you have jobs to be getting on with? I’m sure the Cardinal assigned you escort duty today!”

 The fire ghoul quickly looped his hand in yours, drawing the rose back between his teeth with a suggestive waggle of his mask. His face was still hidden, and he grumbled before spitting the rose onto the bed and wiggling the buckle undone. The leather and buckles clinked before Swiss tugged it up and over his head, the ski hood following quickly after it to release the pressure from his ears. His dreadlocks flopped down over his back before he shook them free of the ponytail and snapped the band across the room, pinging it against the furthest wall of your little room. You watched the band fly before you looked back at the ghoul with your hands on your hips.

“Really? Now you’re going to litter in my room too?” You asked as you returned to your vanity and Swiss took it upon himself to kick off his stiff boots, unzipping the sides before they were dumped on the floor. He looked at your glare before smiling and taking them over to the door, standing them next to the door carefully before he undid his coat and threw that on the hook too, groaning in relief as the necktie followed suit, hung on top of his coat. The lace sleeves wafted as he walked back towards your bed and flopped down, making himself at home as his skin fizzled back to charcoal grey and his golden eyes glinted in the low ministry lighting. The black horns curled over his hair, pointing in two jagged arches towards the back of his head.

 He looked like a true demon, and you didn’t miss the curl of his fingers as he held out the rose to you again. A tempting little devil. Except he was a Ghoul. You looked at the sharp claws before you relented and came over to the bed with your packages, placing them in your lap as you let Swiss tuck the rose behind your ear. His claws grazed the skin behind your ear, and you shivered before you tore open the package, the ghoul watching over your shoulder as you undid the bag around the box and held the unmarked shoe box in one hand. You knew what it was, but you eagerly waited for the ghoul to see as you flipped open the lid and revealed the contents. Swiss stiffened against your back for a moment as he took in the sight of the muzzle laid in the tissue paper. The soft Italian leather base then melded into a stainless-steel cage, moulded to be similar to that of a dog’s snout, but not quite as long, but enough to cover around the nose and around down the jaw to the chin. The straps were also made from the same soft leather and on closer inspection you were pleased to see the golden thread you had requested had been used for the stitching. The ghoul looked on at the muzzle, his long leathery tail flipping out of the back of his trousers to stroke along the outside of your thigh.

 “A pretty muzzle for a pretty thing like you…” Swiss purred against your ear as his hands rested against your waist and he admired the muzzle. You smirked, and you knew Swiss had sensed a change in the room, “A pretty thing like me?” You teased as you reached into his hair to tug, “How about a pretty thing like you, hm, Swiss?”

“Like…Oh…” Swiss looked down at your hands again and licked his lips, his lips pulling back in an excited snarl, “Is this you calling in your little winning?”

You smirked at him, “Only if you’re really comfortable with it?”

Like a dog, the ghoul bounced upwards, “Oh baby, you don’t even know what kinds of disgusting thoughts I’ve had in the five minutes since you opened it.” He leaned back enough to open his shirt enough to let you see the sculpted pectorals underneath the black fabric, framed with lace, “Please…” He covered his mouth as his tail swished behind him, “Please tell me you have an outfit? Or lucifer forbid…a pair of stilettos.”

 A long hum made him twist against your back, his hands slinking over your shoulder to slide the muzzle from your grip. His clawed fingers touched the soft leather before he traced the cage like contraption with grace, enjoying the feel of it against his fingers as you stood up, leaving his warm embrace so you could open the second package. His ears flicked and perked up at the noise of the packaging being opened but you made sure to turn away so he couldn’t see, lifting your robes far enough to get them onto your feet before he could see. The ghoul peered at your feet eagerly, but the vestments hid them for the moment as you turned around and smiled at him.

“Only good boys get to see their master’s toys.” You told him.

The ghoul’s eyes widened before he smirked again, licking at his teeth as he played with the muzzle and eyed you from head to toe, “Good boys, huh?” He debated with another lick of his lips with a long black tongue. He held the muzzle to his face for a moment before he stripped off his shirt, throwing the lacy sleeved number onto the floor before he purred happily and grinned, “I can be a good boy.”

You raised your eyebrow, “A good boy, what?”

The ghoul preened at the threat, “I’m your good boy, master.” And leaned back on the bed to reveal the tent already forming in his bottoms.

 Typical, you thought as you watched the ghoul lay himself back against the bed, his tail flipping up and down against the covers as he pulled his socks off and turned his clawed toes into the cotton. His fingers reached for the button on his trousers, but you were quick to grin at him and tut.

“That’s enough. You lay back there and look pretty while I get changed.” You told him as you stepped into the small bathroom, snagging the final parcel from your bed as you left. You could feel Swiss’ burning eyes on the heels as they poked out from under your robes. There was a grumble from the bed as the ghoul leaned back and occupied himself by playing with the muzzle as you changed. You smiled as you closed the door and revealed the new lacy ensemble to yourself, looking at the bra and the panties in the shimmery golden material. It barely covered anything, but you quickly shed your clothes in favour of the new underwear you had purchased, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric as you set it in place and then placed the heels back on your feet, admiring yourself in the mirror as you sorted your hair. You took one deep breath and smiled at yourself before you unlocked the bathroom again and stepped out into the bedroom, facing the vocalist with a soft look.

 “Satanas…” Swiss hissed from the bed, his tail smacking against the duvet as he looked at you in your new ensemble, all gold and sparkly. He purred and you sighed as you looked at his hand which was wrapped around his cock.

“I’m sure I didn’t tell you to do that.” You commented boredly as you stood by the side of the bed and reached for the ghoul’s burning palm, dragging his hand away from his cock to look at the mess of precum which was already leaking from the tip. The cum was a dark colour, unholy, and entirely unnecessary. You’d not told him he was allowed, “You’ve been a bad boy then.”

Swiss’s tongue pressed against the back of his teeth as you snapped the waistband of his trousers and brushed over the fact that he hadn’t worn underwear, obviously forgoing them completely in anticipation of this kind of encounter.

“I haven’t been a bad boy, master.” The ghoul hummed as he shucked his trousers off completely, “I’ve been good but I’m aching for you. I need you to look after me.” He snapped his teeth, “Or I think I might just take a bite out of you.” His eyes burned gold, bleeding away the whites as his charcoal skin grazed against your hand, tugging your palm to his cheek and your other to his horns. You stroked the skin softly, indulging him for a moment before you tugged his horns harshly. Swiss gasped before you pulled his hair back and pinched his cheek softly, “Bad boys don’t get what they want, Swiss.”

 “But I’ve…” Swiss started before you leaned in to give him a long, slow kiss, ensuring his head was cradled in your palms. You tugged gently on his hair before you held him in place by his horns. His lips were wet and soft, tasting like peppermint chapstick. Your tongue danced with Swiss’ as you kissed him thoroughly, enjoying the grumble in the demon’s throat as you leaned over the edge of the bed. With a bite at the ghoul’s lip, you let him go and then reached for the muzzle, holding it out with a soft, questioning look. Swiss licked his lips, wetting them again as he eyed the beautiful piece, before he nodded his head and leaned forwards, happily letting you fix the straps behind his head with wide golden eyes as he grumbled, teeth gnashing against the metal for a moment teasingly. When he was in, you stepped back and admired the work. The stark, chromium against the ghoul’s charcoal skin made you hum happily, and you touched his hair gently before you tugged a collar from your drawer and fastened that as well, snapping a leash on only when you saw his blissed expression, relaxed against the bedding as you gave it a gentle tug. Your heels clicked, and you turned, holding the end of the lead as you led the ghoul down from the cushions and seated yourself on the edge of the bed.

 “Good boys do as they’ll told.” You purred as you stroked the top of your ghoul’s head.

“Yes.” Swiss swallowed as he grinned, “Yes, master.” He addressed you as his tail coiled along your ankle, “I’ll be a good boy, if you look after me.”

You pushed your heel against the ghoul’s chest, enjoying the strained moan that escaped his lips as his fur rippled down his back and his cock bounced between his legs, “I’ll look after you, don’t worry. But, first, I want you to fetch me something.” You told him softly, stroking the point of his ear, playing with the rings there, “Fetch me my paddle, like a good boy.”

Swiss turned to stand. “Crawl.” You drawled to the ghoul as you let go of his lead and watch him stick his tongue between the metal bars of the muzzle. He winked before he got onto all fours, stuck his tail high in the air like a proud cat, and crawled towards your drawers. The paddle was a black leather piece made with a flexible hardness that Swiss had enjoyed a few times, on yourself and him, though the second was few and far between. He retrieved it and crawled back, the collar’s loop jingling against the chain of the lead.

 The ghoul looked up at you and held out the paddle, his tail swishing with excitement, knotting itself together back and forth as he watched you take it from him and tap it against your leg. Thoughtfully, you made sure to smack the paddle enough for the leather to slap. The ghoul looked at it lustily. You couldn’t remember being told he was a glutton for punishment, but the way he reached up to grip the chain between his hands proved it. He tugged the chain impatiently and purred, muscling closer between your legs, his hot fingers easing your thighs open so he could lay his head on your thigh and purr again. Swiss was misbehaving but the warmth of his face against you was so tempting. His fingers danced over your skin in slow circles, making you sigh, before he dared to dip his fingers under the elastics of the golden underwear.

“On the bed, ass up.” You snapped as you dragged his leash a little harder than intended. Swiss only removed himself from between your legs and moaned as he dragged himself back onto the bedding, swinging his hips like a bitch in heat, his tail high as he bit his lips and looked back at you with shiny fangs.

 The bed creaked quietly as he presented himself, leaned over on his forearms and his tail twisting in the air, the sharp end curling over on itself as he watched and waited, his chest pulsing with deep, steady breaths. He was excited for it. You’d never known a ghoul, or person, like it. He had swapped so readily into the role, that you could be fooled into thinking he truly had no ulterior motive. But you knew ghouls, and more importantly, you knew fire ghouls. There wasn’t a moment that he wasn’t waiting for the opportunity to flip the game, even while he was muzzled, collared and leashed like a pet. Swiss didn’t belong to you. He knew what he could get away with.

“What’s your safe word, Swiss?” You asked as you leaned back and admired the taught muscles of Swiss’ backside clench.

The ghoul licked his teeth as he looked you in the eyes, golden orbs glittering with amusement, “Tambourine, master.” He purred before he settled himself down with a cushion.

“Good boy.” You praised before you slid the cool leather of the paddle against the charcoal skin of his backside, “Now count me to ten.” You told him. The shiver that ran along the fur of the ghoul’s back made it worth it.

“Yes, master.” Swiss hummed as he laid still and wiggled his hips again temptingly, inviting the smacks against his bottom.

 The whoosh of air caught him odd guard, and you smiled at his yelp as the leather cracked against his backside. The resounding slap made the ghoul whimper behind his bitten lip, but he quickly recovered, smirking with sharp fangs as his claws curled into the cotton of the bed sheets. His tongue licked against the cage of the muzzle before he let out a hot breath and nuzzled his face back into the pillow.

“One.” He counted.

“Try again.” You corrected him with another slap of the paddle against the back of his legs before you started again, giving his bottom another smack, “From the top.”

“One, thank you master.” Swiss hummed as he tugged his fingers in the bedding, drawing lazy circles in the sheets as he curled his tail up around his arm, so it was out of the way.

“That’s better.” You purred as you stroked Swiss’ hair, enjoying the way he tipped his head into the attention before you smacked his backside again, “Good boys thank their master for their punishment. You’re such a brat, sweetie. All you do is ask for this isn’t it?”

Swiss moaned his thanks for the second crack but sought your hands again, “It doesn’t feel as bad when you’re here looking after me.” He told you as he counted the third strike.

 “Then maybe you’d like a few more for good measure?” You asked as you tugged his head back by his horns, “Or would that get you off too well?”

“Probably…” Swiss purred behind the muzzle. His teeth clicked as you smacked him particularly hard in succession with the paddle. He didn’t miss a beat as he counted and thanked you for each of them, politely, sickeningly sweet as he lazed his tail around in the air and the charcoal skin of his bottom was tinged purple with the blood pooling underneath.

“What was that, ghoul?” You spat as Swiss purred and swung his tail temptingly.

Swiss grumbled with another spank and counted, “Six, thank you master. Please, I just want you to look after me.” He begged as your hand trailed over his shoulder and down his chest, teasing the fur over his stomach before you touched the tip of his cock and watched him buck towards it instantly. Needy and demanding, the fire ghoul looked up at you, golden eyes bleary and upset as you took away your hand and sighed at him. Another crack over his backside made him whimper this time, but still, the ghoul counted as instructed and thanked you for the punishment, over and over.

“You’re such a good boy, Swiss, taking your punishment so well, like a good ghoul.” You praised as the last strike hit his bottom and you soothed a warm palm over the sight, enjoying the twitches in the Ghoul’s tail as you stroked the burning hot skin.

 “Thank you, master.” Swiss purred as you stroked his burning hot skin, “But I need more, please. I’ve been a good boy.”

Sure enough, you looked between his legs, straight at the weeping cock which stood to attention between them. The tip pulsed with another pearl of dark coloured pre-cum as the ghoul looked you up and down again, admiring the angle of your legs and the cocked hip. You hummed and tucked the paddle under his chin again, tilting his head up so you could look at the dark colour on his cheeks.

“You did take your punishment like a good boy.” You hummed as you leaned back down and kissed him, opening your mouth against his cheek lewdly, letting your tongue slide along the skin. Swiss let you before his monstrous tongue dipped out from between the bars. A tangle of tongues ensued, and Swiss let you control the kiss, teasing your tongue with licks from his own, eager to please you. The ghoul was eager for some attention and a reward.

“I did, didn’t I?” Swiss purred as you let his breathe, his tail twisting before it thrashed erratically and dared to inch closer to your thigh. It wrapped around the skin of your thigh, and you looked down before snatching his tail and holding the wriggling length in a closed fist.

“But you’re still misbehaving?” You tutted as you let his tail go, “You won’t get anything at this rate.”

The ghoul grumbled before pouting at you, shaking his hair out of his face before he whined, “Please, master.” He asked softly as he placed his muzzled face on the cushion, “I’ve been…waiting since you started this bet. I’ve only wanted you.”

 Your tummy fluttered with the confession, and you smiled cruelly down at the ghoul as you stroked his hot face, soothing the skin softly before you tossed the paddle somewhere in the sheets. Swiss’s ears flicked as his mouth opened behind the bars, and you smiled again as you rolled the ghoul onto his back and settled yourself over his thighs, pining his clawed hands back as he bucked upwards and let out a hissing moan. His cock bobbed between his legs, and you reached for the leash again, tugging Swiss’s collar roughly as you watched him squirm and pant.

“Tell me what you want, Swiss and I’ll see if you’ve been good enough for it.” You teased against his thighs, thrusting your hips forwards, the front of your panties meeting the ghoul’s dick. He shuddered and you pushed your fingers through the bars, wiggling them over his mouth.

Swiss took a breath before he leaned up to lick your fingers, “I want you to ride me please, master. I want you to let me cum, please, I’ve been such a good boy.”

 He begged, so, so sweetly, and you bit your lip as you reached for his cock, stroking the length of it from tip to root, sliding back the foreskin as more pre-cum gushed from his slit. You stroked it down, back over his length, and cooed softly. He responded with a soft chirp of his own as he fought the temptation to grab you by the hips.

“Master, please.” He whined again as you stopped stroking his cock and leaned back, easing the underwear down you legs before you looked down, holding them in one hand, and teased them over the top of Swiss’ muzzled face. He grumbled at the smell, his nostrils flaring as he caught scent of your arousal.

“Please.” Swiss moaned again as you laid the underwear over his eyes, “Please, master I want to cum.”

You rutted against the ghoul, sliding up against his cock before you whipped the underwear away and scrambled for the lubricant from your bedside drawer. The cap popped audibly in the thick tension of the room, and you slicked your fingers before sliding them over the ghoul. Luckily, you’d taken the time to prep yourself in the bathroom before you’d started this encounter.

 Swiss moaned at the cool feeling over his cock, but he was quick to wiggle again, his hips twitching, begging to be allowed to rut upwards. You pushed them back against the duvet, pining him as you wiped the last bit of lubricant down his chest. A moan sounded from him as you slid your slick fingers over his nipples, teasing them before you grabbed his cock and slid it inside of you. Both of you moaned, loud and haughty as you slid together and connected at the hips with a soft slap. The ghoul’s claws tore at the sheets, and he begged again, moaning into the air as you slid up his dick.

“Please, please, please.” Swiss begged as you pinned his hips once again and his claws twitched, “Let me hold you, please master let me… Let me…”

You leaned down over the ghoul and licked the muzzle, leaving condensation in your wake, “Then do it, Swiss.”

With a growl, the ghoul’s hand snapped to your hips, taking hold of you before he started to thrust in earnest, starting a quick brutal rhythm as his cock twitched inside of you, pushing against all the right places with precision you could only ever get from a ghoul. They were hell beasts made for this, and you moaned above him.

“Hm. Make your master feel good, Swiss.” You told him as you rutted against him. You gasped as he snapped upwards, his claws grabbing your hips as he thrusted viciously, panting against your neck.

 Your arms wrapped around the ghoul’s shoulders, clutching onto the charcoal skin as he gasped praises into your ear, pounding at you viciously, your bodies connecting with wet slaps. The muzzle stopped him from devouring your skin and lips, and you lamented that as sparks flew up your spine and your brain swam with mind boggling pressure. Swiss let go for a moment to push his hand between your bodies, snapping your bra free before stroking your nipples, tugging hard as he gnashed behind the muzzle and moaned. His tail thrashed as he rutted, hard and moaned, desperate for release, for anything that you would give him as he thrusted, and thrusted, and thrusted.

“Does it feel good, master? Am I still your good boy? Are you close to cumming? I am, master, I am.” Swiss babbled as he inhaled your scent and took hold of your hips again, making sure you met his thrusts as you played with the straps of his muzzle and tugged his hair.

“You’re such a good boy, Swiss. My perfect boy.” You told him as you tugged his head back, “Are you going to be good and cum in me?” You asked, “Are you going to make me cum first? Good boys only cum after their masters.”

 The ghoul groaned, his hips stuttering before he paused, swirling his hips, and he moaned, loud and ragged, into your ear before he started his rhythm again. His hips moved in long, strong strokes, his arms flexing as he helped lift you up and down. The feeling of his long cock was enough. You were tense, highly strung and on the edge, and you hummed before you fingered the buckle of the muzzled and undid it, letting the muzzle fall between the two of you with a breathy sigh. Swiss’s golden eyes widened before he rushed forwards, leaning into you, knocking you into the covers with a soft ‘omph’ before his mouth was on yours and his teeth gnashed at your lips. A soft bite had you moaning, and you reached into his hair to tug the ghoul closer as your orgasm drew closer, your body tingling and your thighs clenching before your stomach knotted.

“Swiss,” You moaned, “Cum inside me.”

The ghoul growled, his teeth snatching the skin of your shoulder before he thrust, once, twice, and then moaned as you tugged his hair viciously hard, and he came inside of you, hips stuttering, and his eyes closed.

 “Thank you, master.” Swiss gasped against your skin before his black tongue licked along the valley of your chest, tasting your skin and the sweat you were dripping with.

You hummed as the knot in your tummy snapped, and you orgasmed, feeling the twitching cock inside of you as you clutched at the ghoul and moaned, ignoring his groping as you slammed your hips against his and watched both your orgasms mix with one another in a lewd mess.

Swiss gasped again against your skin before he pulled away and looked down as well, licking his bitten lips before smirking, meeting your gaze with a purr, “Count me in on any bet you make in the future.” He huffed as you leaned back and slid off his dick. Cum dripped down onto the ghoul’s crotch, and he moaned again, covering his smirking mouth as he watched it. A sight, truly, but you smirked and snagged the muzzle, spinning it around your finger as you leaned over him again, running a finger over his flagging cock.

“Would you like to make another one now?” You asked with a lick of your teeth.

Swiss looked up at you and snapped his sharp teeth, “Oh hell yes.”

[theramseyloft]

Let’s take a moment to talk Shit.

You can tell a lot about the health of a pet by its poop.

Changes in its color or consistency are among the first warning signs that a pet may not be feeling well.

In birds, you will usually see changes in poop long before the changes in behavior that indicate illness, like irritability or lethargy.

When most people think of pigeon poop, This is what usually comes to mind:

Nasty white streaks

Or splatters

Or gross colored splats

Any place feral pigeons frequent.

But this is what poop from a healthy, well fed pigeon looks like:

A small, compact ball of the indigestible fiber left over from the hulls of the seeds they eat whole, with a tiny white cap of urate.

You can see the consistency from the others underneath it, where nesting straw has been mashed into them as Pippin has come and gone and arranged, and rearranged individual blades.

A reliably well fed and hydrated pigeon will usually leave stools that keep their round shape on impact with a texture slightly softer than well worked playdoh.

Pigeon poop can be sloppy after a big drink of water following a 6-12 hour period of having gone with out. 

The bowel movement after their first drink of water in the morning, for example, may make a sloppy mess, but in a healthy, well fed pigeon, the solid part will still be brown, and there will be more water than the white urate.

Look at this third picture again:

That wet mess of solids on mostly urate, with a mucus-y shine and slimy texture, is indicative of a heavy gut load of intestinal parasites. 

Not just most ferals, but most racing, performing, and exhibition pigeons (since there are often housed out doors) are infested with the nematode Capillaria, the round worm Strongyloides, or the protozoan Coccidia.

While usually sub-clinical, an active infection of Salmonella will turn the poop a distinctive sulfur yellow to lime green.

But poop is only pure white, 

Like those streaks and splatters most people associate with feral pigeons, when the birds have not had access to solid food in 12 hours or more.

Nearly all feral pigeons perpetually teeter on the brink of starvation, and it shows in their poop.

They are strict granivores, meaning that they can only digest seeds: the embryonic tissue of plants.

With cities being so carefully landscaped, often with the only plant life available being in the form of flower beds and trees, with grasses only in public parks and mowed too short to bloom and seed, the food they can actually digest is mighty hard for the average feral pigeon to find.

Barn ferals tend to be much more healthy for access to seed and animal feed.

But spilled garbage and the hand outs of the people that like them enough to feed them are literally all the food city ferals have access to.

Most of that is bread.

And while bread is made from grain, milling that grain and baking it into bread breaks it down, making it easier for a HUMAN to digest, but HARDER for a pigeon.

They like the taste of it, and eating some as an occasional treat won’t do a pet bird any harm, but that’s the VAST bulk of the food feral pigeons have access to.

It would be like a humans having to wander for miles every day to find food, but only being able to find potato chips, snack cakes, and the occasional slim jim.

That human would not have a long, or healthy life.

Now imagine that person ALSO had two different kinds of lice, mosquitos, and a parasitic fly sucking their blood from the outside, a painful cheesy growth in their throat that could block off their trachea or esophagus if it goes untreated long enough, two species of worms eating the nutrients they manage to find before their intestinal lining gets the chance to absorb it, and a protozoan eating their intestinal lining, with no hope of getting any of those things treated.

And you have a pretty accurate representation of what it’s like to be a feral pigeon living “free”.

I am all for wild animals living free in the environment for which they were adapted.

But pigeons are not wild life, and they were not adapted to cities.

ESPECIALLY not on the continent of North America.

The pigeons that were brought here as military messengers, meat, and entertainment had been domesticated for thousands of years already.

When homers were no longer faster and more reliable messengers than phone lines or radio waves, they were no longer profitable to keep, pigeons were released. This was common practice in the places they came from.

But in Europe, Africa, Turkey, and Saudi Arabia, where Rock Doves are native, there WAS natural habitat for the exclusively cliff nesting birds to relocate to, as well as open lofts that would welcome the boon of free livestock. 

But there is nothing like their actual habitat: A high cliff near the sea, between desert and grass land, in north America. 

So, as lofts shut down and were (as they still are to this day by racers) habitually destroyed to discourage the birds no one would buy from returning, there was nowhere for the unwanted birds to go EXCEPT the tall, concrete buildings, and the metal structure under bridges and billboards.

The problem of feral pigeon mess, from the structural damage caused by the pure uric acid they excrete on an empty stomach to their potential as vectors for zoonotic disease is one of our own making.

That’s why I don’t re-abandon feral pigeons that come into rehab by releasing them.

I get them medical care. Heal their wounds, treat their infections, clean out their parasites...

And then I treat them like any good shelter would treat a stray dog:

I evaluate their temperament, and find them a permanent home where they can be well cared for and as happy as possible.

I fiercely love pigeons. 

And for the same reason that seeing mangy, thin stray dogs roam the street treated an invasive pest species; ignored at best and chased off or exterminated at worst, would horrify and haunt the average american...

My goals are to make hoards of feral pigeons a thing of the ignorant past by encouraging the development of shelters for them like we have for dogs, cats, parrots, and other exotic pets.

Wildlife, like Mourning Doves, should absolutely be returned to the wild if at all possible.

Urban wildlife, like raccoons, are natives that have willingly ventured into cities and found them a welcoming, supportive environment, for which that animal happened to be naturally well suited.

Invasive wildlife, like Collared Doves, happen to be well adapted to the new environment into which they were released. T hey can be a danger to natives, so culling is preferred over release in the event that they can’t be penned. But still being wild animals, being caged stresses them severely.

Pigeons fit NONE of these categories.

They are not wildlife.

They did not “invade” cities.

They were abandoned there the minute they ceased to be profitable, they had no where else to go, and we treat the mess like it’s their fault.

We have done pigeons a terrible disservice by having entirely forgotten that they are domestic livestock.

And any one that calls a pigeon in north America a “wind animal that should be free” perpetuates and encourages that abandonment of responsibility.

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Communicate (Haiba Lev x kuudere!Reader)

note: first entry for haikyuu! i'm open for requests, just hmu! i apologize for any mistakes. some of my stories were intentionally made to be f!reader, but i figured gn!reader would be more appropriate. so i apologize if you see any she/her/names that are in the text. ^^

(i'm adding w/c now as well!)

word count: 3.8k

"He's not coming back tonight, no?"

For a few moments, there was silence. A gust of wind blew past the apartment complex, rustling the leaves of the trees planted down below. You sat on the chair set up on your balcony. Looking over the metal railings, you admired how the yellow and red taillights of cars stuck in traffic bobbed up and down the street. Somehow, they looked like Christmas lights tossed in a messy line; Like they were discarded the morning right after Christmas because the tree had to be taken down again.

You hugged the jacket closer to your arms, hoping to gain more warmth. Inhaling the fresh scent of laundry detergent, you smiled. Eyes crestfallen and tears just barely swimming in your ducts. The cold breeze of December brushed past your hair, tickling the back of your neck. It's the first Christmas I'm spending without you.

Your cat, Maika, jumped on your lap. She purred and mewled, rubbing her head against your warm hand. You managed to choke out a small chuckle, petting the white fur of the cat. You let your eyes wander to the glass doors connecting the living room and balcony. Your couch was there, a duvet carelessly thrown on top of it. You shouldn't help but let a few drops of salty tears fall down your cheeks.

You weren't really the type of person to cry over silly things. In fact, you rarely cried at all. As far as you remember, the last time you cried over something petty was back in second grade. You were teased for cutting your own hair; Your bangs looked choppy, and one classmate even mentioned how you managed to cut a giant chunk out from the back of your head. Admittedly, you were pretty stupid for messing around with the scissors you found on the table, but you didn't really know any better. Anyway, who knew that hair took so long to grow back?

Other than that, you don't recall crying anymore. Throughout your middle and high school years, tears weren't really present to disrupt your life. Not even when Kuroo accidentally spiked a ball into the back of your head, and not even when Yaku accidentally kicked your shin because you were standing too close to his original target, Lev.

Lev.

Although you didn't find any reason for letting yourself cry during those years, you couldn't help but tear up when you remembered Lev. You were incredibly proud of yourself for counting up to five days without crying every since Lev left your shared apartment. However, today was Christmas eve. There were approximately three hours before Christmas, and here you were, spending it with Maika, on the balcony, crying your eyes out.

To be completely honest, you knew that it was your fault that Lev left. You were a rather independent person. You had a bold personality; Never afraid of being blunt to people, never afraid of telling others if they needed to be scolded. However, you were an absolute novice when it came to showing affection to Lev.

It was a surprise, to say the least, to the entire volleyball team that the cold-hearted manager, _____-san, was dating the eccentric and hyperactive first year, Haiba Lev. Yaku, Kuroo, and Kai were in shock upon hearing the news from Lev. At first, they thought he was just kidding, but when they heard it from you, their minds were beyond boggled.

-

"Eh?!"

"Seriously?"

"Kuroo-san, why do you look so surprised? You too, Yaku-san. And Kai-senpai, I didn't think you'd be interested in my love life as well." You calmly said, clipboard firm against your chest, as your eyes scanned the volleyball posters displayed in the volleyball club room.

"W-Well, I didn't think it was actually true because Lev was the one saying it. I thought he was just bullshitting us." Yaku admitted, scratching the back of his head before sending you a sheepish smile.

"You're growing up too fast, _____-san!" Kuroo quipped, wrapping his arms around you like a doting aunt, "You have a boyfriend now, I'm getting old!"

"Kuroo-san, please stop patronizing me. I have feelings too. Why does this come as a surprise to you all? Inuoka-kun and Futakuchi-kun also asked me if Haiba-kun and I were actually dating. It's not like I'm a robot or anything, I can... contract love too." Your disheveled form pried Kuroo's arms away from you, and you dusted your shoulders off as if Kuroo left dirt atop of them.

"You don't contract love, _____. It's not a disease." Yaku laughed at your poor choice of words.

"You, see _____-san, we just didn't think that you were interested in romance for the time being, and for you to be dating someone like Lev, it's surprising. In a good way, though, don't get me wrong. Lev's a good kid." Kai was the calmest of the bunch, but he was simply masking his happiness. He was the one who invited you to be their manager, after all. He saw how you grew out of your shell gradually. It's nice to see you enjoying the years of your youth, as Kuroo would put it.

"Ah, I see. To be honest, I didn't think I would also participate in a romantic relationship with anyone this early on. However, Haiba-kun successfully caught my attention. I think it would be a fun experience. Whatever happens, I get to grasp a further understanding of our Russian first year, and I also gain knowledge on the department of... love." You mentioned nonchalantly.

Kuroo, Yaku, and Kai all exchanged knowing looks; Something that screamed: "Are you sure you're not a robot?"

"_____-chan!" Lev's excited voice was heard from outside of the gym. The first years finally arrived, signifying that practice would begin soon.

"Pardon me. Thank you for your time." You bowed politely to the three seniors and walked over to where the first years were leaving their things.

"_____-chan I missed you a lot today! I only got to see you in free period earlier, and that was barely 10 minutes, but you're here now!" Lev was like a puppy. He was bouncing around, showering you with genuine compliments and adorations, his smile reaching the heavens above. Perhaps, if you pat his head, an invisible tail would wag? You considered the idea.

You managed to hold back a smile of your own, only replying with, "Get prepared for practice, Haiba-kun."

"_____-chan, you can call me Lev, you know? Since we are dating and all." The Russian said softly, wanting to get his point across, but not wanting to scare you.

"Maybe next time, Haiba-kun."

-

When you slipped inside your living room, you couldn't help but let out a few more sobs. There was a Christmas tree left half decorated just beside your television. Cans of tea and red bull were laying just on the feet of the couch. Half-empty and empty packets of chips were on the coffee table. God, you left the living room in such a messy state.

You pulled Lev's enormous (Well, it was enormous on you. But on Lev, it was the perfect size) jacket closer to your body, wishing you could smell his scent instead of the laundry detergent.

Maika wandered into the living room and onto her cat bed, stretching her paws and making herself comfortable before she went to take a nap.

You couldn't help but acknowledge the absolute dumpster fire when you saw yourself in the full body mirror near the entrance of your hallway. You were wearing a pair of fuzzy pajamas, an oversized shirt covered in stains and crumbs, and Lev's Nekoma jacket. Your hair was messy and ruffled, and you looked... pale. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks puffy, but your lips were white. You had never looked so awful before.

-

"_____-chan, you look amazing as always!" Lev came bounding to you.

"Congratulations on graduating! I'm so proud of you!" He took you in a tight embrace, lifting you up and spinning you around.

"H-Haiba-kun, please put me down!" You squealed, wriggling around in Lev's grip, trying to get away. For a split second, you could've sworn that Lev's face darkened, but you decided to brush it off.

Once your feet touched the ground, you managed to say a short and quiet "Thank you."

"Ah, this is really happening, isn't it?" Lev shoved his hands in his pockets, looking up at the cherry blossom trees in full bloom.

"Y-Yeah. It will even eventually happen to you too, Haiba-kun. It's the way that life progresses," You knew that you were pathetic at mustering a good enough reply, so you chose to fumble with the hem of your collar.

"Hey, _____-chan, do you love me?" Lev asked, suddenly serious. His gaze was still fixated on the trees above, their branches freely swaying in the wind, a few cherry blossoms fluttering down as the breeze carried them away.

A blush creeped up on your cheeks. Of course you loved him! More than... anything, if you were being honest. More than volleyball, more than red bull, more than anime, but why couldn't you say it?

"Speak up, damn it!" You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes passed, you were still tongue-tied. You hated yourself for not being able to express your feelings. There were already tears in your eyes, but you didn't want to cry in front of Lev; You vowed that you never would.

Lev looked down to see his senior in a low mood. "Don't worry, _____-chan! It's okay if you can't say it yet, I understand." Lev caught a single cherry blossom as it was falling down and tucked it behind your ear, " I'll wait for the day that you can say it back, so for now, I'll say it for the both of us, okay?"

You were embarrassed. You were such an asshole for doing this to Lev. To make up for your lacking skills in communication, you tapped his hand. Curiously, he opened his palm, and you placed a small object on top of it.

Lev's smile contained nothing but pure, concentrated glee.

"Thank you for the button, _____-chan, I will always cherish this. Happy anniversary. I love you so much!"

-

You found yourself standing at the doorway of your shared bedroom. You longingly stared at the queen-sized bed. The sheets were crisp and the pillows were fluffed. You haven't been sleeping in that bed since Lev left the apartment. It just didn't feel right. There was something about a heavier loneliness whenever you tried to sleep alone in that bed when you were so damn used to having Lev sleep beside you. That's why you've been sleeping on the couch ever since; It's uncomfortable as all hell, yeah, but at least you don't feel a large empty space beside you when you sleep. Maybe a few crumbs here and there, but that was bearable.

You pattered your way back into the living room, where your laptop lay buried under the empty chip packets. You grabbed it from underneath the rubbish and brushed off other residue before plopping down on the couch. You slipped your arms into the sleeves of Lev's jacket and opened up your laptop. You've been neglecting your uni works for the past days because your sadness just didn't allow you to function properly.

Upon entering your passcode, the black background of the loading screen faded into a photo of you and Lev. He was wearing a minnie mouse headband, and you wore the matching mickey mouse one. You were standing in front of sleeping beauty's castle at Tokyo disneyland. You were wearing Lev's gray hoodie, which made it look like you were wearing a really short dress because of how long it was. You were both smiling like idiots, and you recalled that that trip was one of the best of your life. You never usually smiled like that, but because Lev carried you bridal style and kept touching your sides, you couldn't help but squirm and smile in the photo.

Once again, tears were brimming in the corners of your eyes. The stinging pain of heartbreak and regret stabbing you over and over again.

-

"It's Christmas in five days, _____." Lev popped up from behind you while you were decorating the tree.

"Jeez! Don't scare me like that, I nearly dropped the lights." You replied, calming your racing heart. Was it because of how he scared you, or because of how close he was? Honestly. you couldn't tell.

Lev could only chuckle at this, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He gave you a kiss on the cheek. "You know, my first year at uni has been great so far. Thanks to you and a few of my friends."

"That's great then." You said, tone of voice returning to a monotone one.

"I love you, _____."

You couldn't even recall all the times that you froze up whenever Lev admitted his feelings for you, but add one to whatever number it's at right now.

You could only swallow your saliva and grip the lights tighter. Say it, ______, say it! You kept yelling in your head. Why can't you fucking say it?!

"I knew it." A low laugh was heard from Lev's mouth. His fists were turning white because of how hard he balled them up. His nails were digging into his palm. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even actually love me. But I guess you never did."

You turned your head abruptly. "Haiba, that's-"

Lev let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. "We've been dating for over three years now and you still call me by my last name. Are you that uncomfortable with me, _____-san?"

You cringed at how he emphasized the honorific following your name, probably trying to prove a point.

"You know that's not true."

"Of course it is!" He snapped. " For god's sake, _____, three years! Three years, and not once have you told me that you love me!"

You were on the brink of crying. No. No, not in front of him. You weren't weak, you weren't going to cry.

"In all those years that we've been together, I have never seen you cry. Not even when we're upset with one another. Are you... that cold-hearted that you don't care or you don't even feel anything? Not even for your own boyfriend?"

Silence.

The words he spat were like venom.

You couldn't speak. Your mouth felt dry and your throat felt like it closed in an instant, like some sort of invisible throat cover just squeezed itself right there, preventing you from speaking.

"I see how it is."

With that, Lev spun on his heel and went to their room. He grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with a couple of shirts, his wallet, his phone, charger, and other necessities. He slipped on the thickest jacket he owned and went straight to the front door.

"Le-"

"Goodbye."

He slammed the door shut.

-

That was probably the first time that you broke down in years. Who knew that it would be a guy behind your facade fading?

Who knew that Haiba Lev would be the one to make you realize that being strong-willed didn't mean being cold-hearted and nonchalant?

"Stupid Lev." You muttered to yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. Admittedly, his name seemed to roll off your tongue nicely.

You desperately tried to wipe your tears away, but they just kept coming.

"Why do I love you so much?"

-

"Lev, are you sure you're okay with what you're doing?" Yaku asked the taller male, taking a sip from his beer mug.

"Yaku-san, we've been together for a little over three years. They've never told me that they loves me. Never even cried. I think they're just that stone-hearted," Lev replied, taking a shot of vodka. "Either that or they're a fucking robot."

He fiddled with the necklace around his neck, contemplating whether he was going to pull it off and stomp on it until it broke. The charm attached to his necklace was the button that _____ gave him on back during her graduation day.

"Lev, you better listen to me, and you better listen real fucking good." Yaku's tone of voice was sharp, and it was something that Lev hasn't heard since his years at Nekoma. "You do know that _____ can't express their emotions well, right? They're blunt with everybody, and they're honest. But when it comes to love or romance or feelings that make them happy, you know that they can't show it as easily as you do."

"Yeah, I know." Lev answered quietly.

"But you do know that they love you, right?"

"I don't."

"You're telling me that you've never even felt that they love you?"

Suddenly, Lev's eyes shot open.

-

"Christ, you're going to catch a cold! Why the hell did you run out in this rain?!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just had to rush here to see you! I missed you soooo much!"

"Get inside and hop in the shower. I'll prepare some warm food for you while you're in there. There's a spare towel in the cupboard above the sink."

"Thank you, _____-chan!"

-

"Stupid beanpole. I told you to change clothes after practice yesterday, didn't I?"

"Sorry, _____-chan. I totally forgot." He coughed.

"Here, drink this medicine. I'll reheat your porridge and grab you a cold towel for your head. I'll also bring in the assignments that Inuoka gave me."

"You'd be a good wife, _____-chan. My wife, that is." Another cough.

"Shut up and rest before I hit you with this notebook."

"Yes, yes, darling."

-

"Where were you?! We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"S-Sorry, _____-chan. I saw this cat stuck in a tree and I just had to rescue it!"

"Don't go running off like that! Do you know how worried the team was? How worried I was?! I thought you were gone! Look at how many scratches you have on your arm. You need to go to the infirmary, now."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Just... Don't do it again, please. Always be in my line of sight."

"Yes, _____-sama!"

-

"Haiba, here's your water bottle."

-

"Haiba, the forecast said that there might be a downpour in the afternoon. Don't forget to bring an umbrella."

-

"Haiba, you left your books at the gym. Here. Jeez, don't be so forgetful next time."

-

"Haiba, here, I bought your favorite meal. Furihata said that you forgot your lunch at home. You can't go hungry."

-

"Haiba, you're doing well. Your progress report shows continuous growth. I'm proud of you."

-

"I'm a fucking idiot." Lev said. His emerald green eyes were filled with tears. "Excuse me, I have to go."

With that, he dashed out of the bar, leaving a confused Yaku with a drunk Kuroo passed out behind him.

The former libero could only sight and take a giant gulp of beer.

"Damn right you are."

-

You were full on crying right now. Approximately 10 minutes before Christmas, and here you were, crying on the couch. Maika had given up on comforting you, but remained by your side as you bawled you eyes out, offering some sort of moral support or assurance that someone was there for you.

However, a few moments passed, and Maika's ears perked up. She jumped down from the couch and made her way to the front door of the apartment. She lightly scratched the door.

"M-Maika, I'm sorry. I know I'm being too loud, I'll pipe down soon." The girl blubbered, blowing into a tissue.

As if on cue, there were multiple knocks on the door.

Fuck's sake.

You didn't even care that you'd be facing whoever is on the other side of the door while looking like this. Your eyes were puffier, the bags under them more prominent. Your nose was a rosy red color, cheeks flushed and tear stains were obvious on them.

"Who the fuck-?"

As soon as you opened the door, a sudden warmth engulfed your body. The familiar fragrance you loved so much flooded your blocked nostrils.

"Le-"

"I'm sorry."

There was silence.

"I'm so sorry for everything that I said, _____. I take all of it back. I know that you love me. Your love language isn't vocal and I should have been more accepting and understanding of that. I may not know your reasons for being the way you are, but I promise you that I accept you wholly. I'm so, so fucking sorry that I left so suddenly. I love you so much. I'm never leaving you again."

Sobs racked through your body. Your form was shaking in Lev's arms. He was surprised. It's the first time he's seen you cry, and it breaks his heart knowing that he's the reason behind it.

"I'm sorry, kitten. Please don't cry anymore."

"Lev," You started, attempting to calm down, and Lev swore his heart stopped beating for a second, "I love you."

For a moment, everything stopped. They could hear the neighbors yelling "Merry Christmas!" in their own units.

"P-Pardon?"

You giggled. "I love you, Lev. I'm really sorry that it took me this long to tell you. I guess I was just scared of telling you how I really felt because... I didn't want you to think that I was cheesy or..."

Lev cut you off with a kiss. It was short and sweet. He could taste red bull and barbecue chips on your lips, and you could taste vodka on his. It was imperfect, but it was yours, and you loved it.

"I love you so much, _____. This is the best Christmas gift I've ever received."

"I love you too, Lev."

"Come on, let's get inside. I bought some takeout for us to eat." He easily lifted you up with one arm and grabbed the plastic bag of takeout with his free hand.

"Yeah, about that," You buried your face in his neck, "I'm sorry."

"We'll... Clean up tomorrow." He chuckled, looking at the messy state your living room was in. "We'll eat in our room, okay? Why don't you get cleaned up first, and I'll prepare the things we need." He placed a kiss on your cheek.

"Alright, Lev." You replied, "Sorry for causing a lot of trouble."

"Don't be sorry, malishka. We're fine now, okay? We have each other and we understand each other better now." He set you in front of the bathroom. "Now, go ahead and shower! I'll get a fresh set of clothes for you and leave them out here."

"Thank you, Lyovochka." You grinned, using Alisa's nickname for him.

"Anytime, babe." Lev turned around to go to the bedroom until,

"Hey, Lev?" You showed your head out of the bathroom door.

"Yes, _____?"

"I love you!"

The, the door was slammed shut.

"_____, you're too cute!" Lev had to use every strand of will power he had to not faint on the spot.

Who knew that his kuudere partner was such a huge softie?

Maola mewled and rubbed her head against Lev's leg.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Maika."

[rueren]

3 𝓪𝓶 ~ 𝓡.𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓪

warnings : #none #this shits cute  #swearing #sneaking out(?)

content: prev. established relationship. basically he misses you and you guys go out at 3 am.

word count : 2513

pairings : Tanaka Ryūnosuke x reader

Finally.  Sleep at last.  It took so long to go to bed; the anime you had been waiting for for so long had finally dropped its first season at 6 pm, and you binged your way through the whole thing.  So by the time your head hit the pillow it was …. 1 am?  Not too bad, you thought to yourself as your head finally hit the pillow. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Your brows furrowed, still groggy from sleep.  That stupid tree branch.  You knew you should've told someone that it's gotten dangerously close to your window.  First thing in the morning, then. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap tap tap.  It became more insistent.  Your blood rushed to your ears.  It's just the tree branch... Right?  Remnants of sleep leaving your system, your nerves were on end.  Slowly, your head peeked out from under your covers, twisting towards your window, without your body moving an inch.  There seemed to be no shadow of anything, so you stood up slowly, and grabbed the bat you left under your bed.  

You slid across the wall and made your way over to the window.  Still, nothing could be seen from outside.  Your ears filled with the sound of your pulse, you forced your hand to the latch that unlocks the window, and threw it open, and at the same time swung the bat out the opening.  

“What the fuck, babe” a voice cried from the other side of the window followed by scuffling.  Your ears picked up at the sound, and you threw your curtains to the side. 

“Ryu?” You said exasperated, breathing heavy from the adrenaline.  “What the hell are you doing here, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Answer your phone once in your life, and you won't get scared,” He heaved, hand over his chest, “I almost died, you know.  Your damn bat literally grazed my lashes.” 

“My phone…what are you talking about?”, you stomped your way over to your phone, “You never called me, what are you talking about…” 4 missed calls and 12 messages.  

You turned around, sporting a guilty smile, to see your boyfriend staring at you, eyes sharp, and lips curled in a sly smirk.  “Gonna say something?” 

“You gonna come in or you want me to come out?” You avoided the question, rubbing your eye and pulling down your shirt over your pajama pants.  

“Come sit out here with me, it's pretty,” he smiled, pulling his hood off.  You crawled out your window onto the  small sliver of roof, ducking under the branch that pressed up against your window.  He held out his hand for you to stabilize yourself as you sat down beside him, tucked into his side.  

You tilted your head back to look up at his face.  It’s amazing how often it would slip your mind how good looking he actually was. His face had a tinge of pink to it from the crisp fall night air, his nose red from being nipped by the cold.  Sharp eyes with stars dancing in them as he watched the night sky, his jaw just as sharp.  With his chaotic personality, it was almost impossible  to forget just how serene moments like this with him are.  

He noticed you looking up at him, and hummed in response, squeezing his arm around you before running his knuckles along the bare skin of your arm. “Whatchu lookin at, huh,”  his smirk replaced the calmer expression he previously had on, and you rolled your eyes and poked his ribs.

“So why are you here?”  You quirked up a brow, “It’s the middle of the night, shouldn't you be home?”

“Yeah, but Saeko’s got friends over and they're so freakin’ loud I can’t even hear my own thoughts” He grumbled, his head gets thrown back and it thunps against the bricks of your house. 

“Don’t act like you were even sleeping, you liar,” You laughed.  “And aren’t you used to this by now?  She's always got people over.  You sleep like a log, anyway.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Okay fine.  But do I really need a reason to wanna come over?” 

“At 2 am, yeah.” Your hand cupped his face and his cheeks squished together.  Even under the darkness, you could see his face go red, and not just from the cold.  His eyes wandered everywhere but to yours.  

It was cute, you always thought. How even after dating for so long, he’d still get bashful and turn into a blushing mess over the smallest things.  Things you’ve done multiple times, he would randomly get flustered over.  Hugs, kisses, small intimate moments.  You fell for him more each passing day, if it was even possible to fall for someone that hard.

“Well, too bad.  I don’t have a reason.  I came to see you just because I can,” He puffed out his chest, and your hand slipped.  He smiled,  “I’m just that nice of a boyfriend.”

“You came here with no reason?  Then what are we gonna do, stare at each other?”

“If you let me, yeah.” He said.  Now your own face flushed. It didn’t even make sense how the same boy who would randomly get flustered over a hug coils say things like that with such ease.  He didn’t even realize what they did to you, which made them affect you that much more.

“Oh my god, shut up,” You mumbled, shoving your face into your hands and falling into his chest. His laugh rang through you, shaking in chest, and his arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close out of the cold.  

“You’re freezing, oh my god I’m so stupid,” He panics, and nudges you to move for a minute. “Here, take this.” He pulls off the puffer jacket he’s got on and draped it over you, leaving him in his olive green hoodie.

“You’re not cold?” You ask, pulling the collar closer to your chin.  He shook his head, “I’m good. Got a shirt under this,” he motioned to the hoodie.

“Weirdo, who wears shirts under their sweaters,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and he flicks your forehead. He pulled your legs over his own, and tucked you back into his side.

A stray cat wandered underneath the lamp post across the street, no cars in sight.  The silence was welcomed, both just enjoying each other's presence for a while.  Your schedules had gotten really hectic, with his team going to nationals in a few weeks.  You honestly couldn't have been any more proud of him. 

“Just missed you, you know” He muttered.  His temple rested against the crown of your head, tugging your legs even further across his own, hand on your thigh.  “Missed you so much. Practice is a lot.  I love it, you know that.  The guys are all great, amazing.  They all work so hard, so I can't just .. not work as hard as them, you know.” He kissed your head, and you look back up at him, your hand going to hold his.

“You’re doing so great,” a chaste kiss is pressed to the back of his hand. “You work so hard,” another kiss to his other.  “I know everyone's so proud of you,” a kiss to his forehead. “And you have no idea,” to his cheek, “How proud you make me,” his other cheek.  “Never wanna imagine my life without you,” and finally to his lips. 

His hands seemed frozen in place for a minute, before going to the small of your back, pulling you in further.  Your hands find purchase on the sides of his face, thumbs caressing his cheek bones.

You missed him. It's been over a week since you guys hung out outside of school, and even then it was cut short sometimes by practice.  Not that you would ever hold it against him.  He tries his best, he really does.  His team relies on him. He relies on them.  The way he is on the court - it's like he’s a different person.  It’s all the best qualities of him brought to the surface.  Determined, stubborn, loyal, reliable, uplifting.  Everything you loved about him.  

What felt like hours later you pulled apart, and rested your foreheads against one another.  He smiled before pecking your lips one last time.  

“Okay, I know what we're doing.” He smiled proudly.  Your eyes followed him as he made his way to stand up on the small sliver of your roof on your side of the house.  

“Going to sleep?” you said, as he held out a hand to get you up. 

His head shook, “Nope, corner store.”

“What?” 

“Corner store.  You know, that place that sells buns and drinks and snacks and shit,” once you're on your feet, he hops over onto the tree by your room.  You watch him, mouth still open in confusion as you watch him climb down.  When he’s down on the ground, he looks back up at you, and beckons you down to him.  “C'mon babe, come down.”

“Are you crazy, I can't climb down that thing.”

“Sure you can,”  he says, grinning.  “You do it all the time.”

“Not in this dark!”

“I’ll catch you, don't worry.” 

Mulling it over in your head, you eventually rolled your eyes and gave in.  “Gimme a sec.”

“Hurry up, baby.”

“Shh, not so loud!”

“Woops, sorry.” He smiled, a toothy grin flashing up at you, swinging back and forth on his heels.  He whisper-yelled, “Hurry up!”

You ducked back into your house to check if your parents were still asleep.  When you saw them snoring away in their rooms, you crept back downstairs to grab a random pair of shoes. Back in your room, you picked up the first hoodie you could find - Tanaka’s old one, all black with a red pocket on the front  - and your phone and wallet.  You scoot your way out the window, pulling it down without locking it.

Climbing down the tree was so much harder than he made it look.  He stuck his arms out to you on the last branch, and you half jumped half kicked off the tree trunk.  He caught you with little problem, and the two of you ran down the street light lit road, stumbling over your own two feet.  

***

The fluorescent lights flickered.  You grabbed the bag of chips from the corner and tossed it into the corner of the cart by your foot.  Tanaka grabed another bag you pointed to that was out of your reach and dropped it on your head.  You cover your head too late, and tilt your head all the way back to glare at him.  In one swift motion he's grabbing your chin and leaning down to kiss you, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip once before pulling away. 

Your eyes stay closed for a second longer than his ego should witness.  Once they open, you can literally see his eyes shining and that stupid grin plastered right across his face.  

“Push this damn cart, Ryu.” you laugh and turn around in the cart, so that you're facing him with your back at the opposite end of it.  “I want candy.”

“Of course, what am I a heathen?” He shoves the cart and lets you glide for a while, your eyes widening in a plea for him to not let you knock into anything.  “It’s not a 3 am snack run without candy, duh.”  He catches up to the cart and stopped it before you rolled into a stack of toilet paper.  He avoided the glare you sent him, and turned you guys into the next aisle.  

You pulled out your phone to take a video of him studying the candy aisle, talking to himself.  The second the video starts, you’re instantly reminded of the fact that you had to put your flash on earlier, and bright light shines into his face abruptly, ruining your plan.  He covers his eyes before grabbing the camera and turning it to the two of you and a squeal leaves your lips.  Cupping your chin again, he’s tilting your lips up towards him and right before smashing them to yours, the question leaves his mouth. 

“This okay?” You nod, your stomach doing flips. He stays there smiling down at you, too long for your liking, and you take the initiative, grabbing the drawstrings of his hoodie in your hands and using it to tug him down to meet you.

You don’t see it but his eyes widen from the abruptness of it all.  He may seem smooth, but whenever you one up him he’s flustered all over again. He recovered though, tongue sweeping over your lips, gaining access and then sweeping over your own tongue.  He’s hovering over you, bent so far over due to his height. He’s got a hand holding the railing of the cart, so he doesn't fall over, the other’s got the phone still pointed towards you, and you can feel the light of the flash on the back of your eyelids.  

You don’t pull apart until you hear shuffling from behind you, and you pull back long enough to see some dude trying to get by.  You immediately push Tanaka back, who’s eyes flutter open, and see the dude glaring at you both.  A meek “sorry man” slips his mouth and he turns to grab the cart and move you both out of the aisle.  

Once you've both left the aisle you look at each other and muffle your laughs into your hands.  Tanaka’s got the camera pointed at you, as you laugh in that sleepy state you're both in.  He smiles as you cover your face with your hand stretched outwards to block it from the camera.  He motions for you to come closer, and the metal bars of the cart digging into your knees as you lean over closer to him.  Another kiss presses to your lips, this time less intense.  Softer, loving, more meaning.  He pulls away and looks at your eyes, your own mind still reeling from all of his straight forwardness today.

He pushed you both to the front to pay for your items, the cashier half asleep himself when he’s scanning your items.  The walk back, he’s got his arm around your shoulder and holding your plastic bag with the chips and candy in it.   You’ve got your own arm slung around his waist and you walk together, passing one of the drinks you bought between you two, laughing and talking about anything and nothing.  

You’re talking about something that happened in your class yesterday, and he’s watching you, listening to you.  But somewhere in your story, he doesn't hear you anymore.  All he hears is his heartbeat in his ears.  All he sees is the stars in your eyes, the way the light dances across your skin, the way your head tilts back as you laugh at whatever you were remembering.  

You look up at him and your lips tilt up to the side, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course.  That dude said something to Noya and he said something back and ... yeah,” He grabbed you down in a headlock, laughing.  When you came back up you rip his beanie off his head and place it on your own.  You stick your tongue out at him, before saying “Ugh now I gotta start over.”

“If it means I get to listen to your voice some more, I should just pretend I don’t hear you every time.” 

“Lover boy,” You scrunch up your face and kiss his cheek, and he makes a mental note to not take back the beanie when he drops you off at home “Anyways, basically what happened was...” 

And its this moment, at 3 am, on a deserted street, with you in his old hoodie and his hat, when he realizes that the only thing that matters any more is you.  That he doesn’t do anything to fuck up what you two have.  He can’t afford to do anything to fuck it up, because he knows this is it for him.  You’re it for him.  Always will be.  

[docholligay]

St Raph 4: With All Your Mind

Another release of The Intercession of St. Raphael, The Catholic Boarding School AU. ALl of the released chapters are here, or the full chapters are available on Patreon! 

The dress was, all other things aside, well-constructed and tailed perfectly to Haruka’s body. Mako had given it the collar and simple short sleeve of an Oxford shirt, with sheer panels at the shoulders that kept it just this side of feminine. The skirt fell elegantly from her waist and slipped to the floor, making use of her height. The blush-pale pink complimented the soft gold of her hair, along with keeping Father Anthony off her case for another night.

On anyone else, it would have been beautiful. On her, it was a tragedy befitting a Shakespearean soliloquy.

Haruka looked at herself in the mirror and bit her lip. “I look stupid.” She looked over toward Mina, who did not respond, just continued to gaze at herself, turning to capture each angle. “Mina!”

“What?!” She looked up at Haruka, irritated, still fiddling with her hair.

“I said I look stupid.”

Mina shrugged. “I mean, it’s maybe not your greatest look, you look like a butch les--”

Haruka grabbed her and covered her mouth “SHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Mina bit her palm, and Haruka removed her hand and shook it lightly, nodding her head toward Mako and and Usagi at the other end of the room.

Mina sighed. “Buddy, I’m telling you, this is no great secret.”

Usagi turned around and clasped her hands together with delight. “Haruka, I think you look BEAUTIFUL.” She practically skipped around the room, giving a dramatic twirl of her as she landed in front of Haruka. “I got you something! Both of you!”

“Oh man, am I excited to see this.” Mina leaned against Haruka.

Usagi meant well, nearly anyone who met her would be quick to say. Her skills were not in music, or in art, or in school, or the kitchen, or a mechanic’s shop, or in an athletic fields, or...well the list went on for some pages, despite every sister’s attempt to find her hidden talent. But what  the sisters did not know, but was recognized by this room, was that Usagi’s talent was not hidden at all, simply an underappreciated capacity to love all those that fell into her life.

“These were my mom’s! But I wanted to share them with you, I have a whole box and you guys are my family, too.” Usagi radiated with joy as she dug through her trunk.

Only Usagi spoke of her family--she had merely had the misfortune of having them die, with no other family. She was, Mina observed maybe not the smartest of them, but surely the best adjusted. Haruka had given up on having a family. Her mother never spoke to her after she stepped through those doors, and no one else seemed to take an interest, though a family had taken her for a summer once. To try her out, she supposed, and Haruka had tried to be very good and very helpful, but after the summer was out, she was returned to the school, and their letters tapered off.

She had been eleven.

The thought whipped out of her mind as quickly as it had scuttled in, lost in the temporary beam of Usagi’s excitement. She presented them both with poorly but excitedly wrapped packages.

“I already gave Mako hers,” She leaned forward conspiratorially, “but I told her not to tell you.”

Mina grinned. “Why ruin the surprise?” She tore at the paper, revealing a cheap paste set of bangle bracelets. “Oh hey, these’ll go great with my dress! I love them!”

Usagi glowed under the light of her praise and threw her arms warmly around Mina. She nodded toward Haruka. “Now you!”

Haruka gave a weak smile as she accepted the package. “You didn’t have to, really.” She looked over at Mako, putting a sparkled rose clip in her hair. She looked over at Usagi. “You should really keep this for yourself, Usagi, I don’t want to take your Mom’s things.”

Usagi’s eyes grew wide, her voice soft but insistent. “I want you to have it.”

Haruka turned her attention back to the package, turning it over in her hand. She delicately ripped at the paper, trying to moderate her face so she didn’t disappoint Usagi, revealing a small box. She opened the lid, and tucked inside was a small silvertone tie tack, with a barely perceptible diamond chip.

“It was my dad’s.” Usagi looked at Haruka hopefully. “I know you can’t wear it tonight, but with your uniform! Or, anytime! That you might want to wear a tie. In the future. If you want.”

In that moment it seemed like more than a cheap trinket. It seemed the promise and the possibility of all she’d dreamed, in a small silver disc. She ran her fingers across it, and felt the cool texture of her apartment and her cat and her nice suit in the closet and a girl who kissed her on the cheek when she left for work. It made her feel real.

Haruka unconsciously touched the box to her chest. “Thank you. I love it.”

Usagi barreled against her in a hug. “It’ll look great on you!”

“Told you they knew.” Mina quipped.

__

Haruka paced nervously outside of the St. Stephens gym, which had been festively decorated for the occasion, the music softly streaming into the hallway. It wasn’t like she set up a date. She said she’d see Michiru there. It was not precisely the way she had pictured asking her, extending her hand in an elegant suit, the Prince Charming to her effortless princess, waltzing around the floor, unable to keep their focus on anything but each other.

That she didn’t know how to waltz and had never had a suit were small details at best, as Joan thumped reassuringly against her chest. Be brave, she whispered, God is with you. That God was willing to do the assist on a lesbian love story didn’t seem covered by any apologetic she’d ever read, but, what was that verse? From Genesis? It is not good to be alone? That was true too, wasn’t it? She touched the medal on her chest through her dress. Joan died for France and for God and for Justice but the actual charge she died for was wearing men’s clothing and having short hair, though that detail got left out a lot by the sisters when they discussed her.  Was Joan alone as she stood before the flame? Was she thinking of a girl when the smoke hit her lungs? Did she ever know what it felt like to press her lips to another woman’s, to know love? Did she--

“You look like you’re gonna throw up.” Mina pointed out helpfully, drawing Haruka’s attention from Joan’s martyrdom.

No, of course Joan didn’t think of that shit, she was a literal saint, Haruka, what’s wrong with you?

“Ruka, stop.” She grabbed Haruka’s arms and stopped her pacing. “You’re making me nervous, damn.”

“What if she stands me up?”

“Then we’ll get drunk.” She patted the flask at her thigh.

“You’re not very comforting.”

“Come here.” She walked to a classroom door and deftly picked it open with her school ID. “Sit. Breathe into a paper bag or something.”

Haruka went, more obediently than she expected to, and sat down on the bench at the back of the classroom, her plain black flats, borrowed from Mako and too wide for her narrow feet, peeking out from under her dres, legs spread indelicately as she leaned forward over them, elbows on her knees and staring at the floor.

Mina sat down next to her and patted her back. “Talk to me.”

Haruka looked up toward the blackboard, toward Jesus hanging on the cross at the front of the room. “What if she thinks I’m,” She scratched the back of her head, “You know? Creepy, gross,” she paused for a moment, “Wrong?”

“Trust me, I think Michiru is probably into some weird shit.”

“Mina!”

“No really! Look at how she slithers around, I’m sure if she’s not into weird shit now, she will be later. Catholic guilt makes girls a lot of fun,” she looked up at Haruka, “Or, you know, you.”

Haruka sighed and leaned against the wall, still staring at the cross. “I shouldn’t be this way. I know that.”

“Gay or pathetic? I’m confused here.”

Haruka gave an irritated growl and looked up at the ceiling.

“Okay, okay,” Mina held her hands up, “no more jokes.” She slipped her arm around Haruka’s waist and laid her head on her shoulder. “Question.”

“Answer.” Her voice was resigned.

“You pay a lot more attention to the bible than me, yeah?”

“Everyone pays more attention to the bible than you, Mina.”

“True, but,” She looked over at the cross. “I seem to remember something you don’t, for all your praying and studying and being up St. Joan’s as--” she sighed and continued more gently, “for all the faith you have. You know that guy at the end of the room?”

Haruka looked over to the end of the room. “Jesus. Yes, I’m familiar with Jesus, Mina.”

“Reasonably important, you’d say?”

Haruka laughed. “What are you talking about, Mina? What’s the point?”

“My point is, I don’t remember him saying a whole hell of a lot about you kissing a girl. I think if it was important he’d bring it up. Don’t you?”

“Paul--”

“Oh Paul thinks braiding hair is a sin, Ruka, and that’s how we’re supposed to wear it here.”

Haruka looked down at her. ‘You do pay attention to the bible.”

“You have to know the letter of the law if you’re gonna exploit it.”

She drew her arm around Mina’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I mean it, you know. I don’t think there’s a damn thing about you that God or whoever didn’t mean to be there. Well,” she shrugged, “the moping, maybe.”

She chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” she sighed. “I guess I should go find her.”

Mina kissed Haruka on the cheek. “It’s okay, buddy, you just gotta get in there and try. What’s the worst that can happen? She turns you down and you continue being a useless lesbian feelings puddle.”

Outside, Michiru could not hear the sweet words that spilled between them, but blushed angrily as Mina kissed Haruka’s cheek, the hurt filling her and becoming purified into anger.

She moved to the gym, heels clacking like a warning call.

__

As a child, she had dreamed that she was a mermaid, that the crashing waves would embrace her, that her soul would be assumed by the sea and she would know what it was to be truly free. Those summers by the seaside were the purest she had ever known, when the sea roared so hard in her ears she could no longer hear the musical murmurings of expectation that had haunted her since birth.

For all that it seemed a fairytale, she smelled the sea in her own eyes, her sight growing blurry under the betrayal of it all.

She had known it was so, and it had been foolish to assume otherwise. Haruka was a polite and gentle and kind girl, and had only extended the invitation as friends. She had another love, and for whatever Mina’s sins might be, she was genuine and fun. She was nothing like the silent sea snake that lay in the deepest part of Michiru’s heart.

She smiled her delicate smile, moving sinuously around Seiya.

“Seiya.” She touched her arm in her soft and tempting way. “What a lovely dress.”

Seiya looked down at the dress she wore, a serviceable black number with a lapel she hoped looked nearly tuxedo style.”Thanks. Nothing on you though.” She grinned.

“Is that what you were thinking? Of nothing, on me?” She gave her practiced titter, and delighted at Seiya’s blush.

She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, Michiru.”

“Is trouble what we’re calling it? You think so little of me.”

Seiya was not a dumb girl. Michiru was up to something, and when was she not? She could recognize cunning, to be sure, but there was also the fact that Michiru’s shoulders were like cream against the navy of her dress, her red lipstick caressing the curve of her lips, her hair curled delicately like waves around her face.

It was a compelling argument.

As if in thrall, she followed close to the smell of Michiru’s perfume, knowing the danger, unable to stop.

__

Haruka slicked back the sides of her hair in the bathroom. It still looked all wrong. She’d stolen a little bit of cologne from a boy carelessly grooming outside, and it, at least, added one thing that made her feel a little bit handsome. A little bit like Michiru might actually want to be around her, if not with her.

No. Rei had said. Rei was her best friend. She was going to trust.

Haruka walked out of the bathroom, and there she was, breathtakingly beautiful in a way that both seemed absolutely perfect and completely unexpected. Her dress was demure but all the more enticing for it, as if she was a package to be unwrapped, and Haruka’s heart soared to speak with her.

Her lips had begun to part, as miraculously as the Red Sea, when she noticed Michiru’s hand, leading another. Seiya.

It couldn’t be Seiya, not out of all the people in the world that it might be, not her and Michiru. No, she was overthinking things, rei had said, and besides, there was no law saying you couldn’t hold hands with your friends, Haruka be calm, Haruka don’t get upset, Haruka control yourself.

And then, Michiru kissed Seiya.

Passionately. Deeply. Barely shaded by the darkness.

She pulled herself back into the bathroom, her vision clouded.

Seiya pulled away from Michiru.   “Whoa whoa did you forget where we are?” She sniffed at Michiru. “Are you drunk.”

Michiru looked over Seiya’s shoulder. She was so certain she had seen Haruka, here in the hall, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was a silly idea anyhow, to expect Haruka to have been jealous. For her to be jealous, there would have had to be some true and deep affection for Michiru. And who could manage that? Even her parents seemed to struggle under the labor.

She sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right.” She looked up at Seiya. “Would you like some punch?”

__

Haruka sat in the stall, trying not to cry. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Michiru was a beautiful, high class, talented girl, and Seiya was much closer to her social strata than Haruka could ever dream of being. Every action Michiru had taken to her had been a magnanimous show of pity for Haruka’s poverty, for her awkwardness, for the way that she was different. THe issue hadn’t been that Michiru was straight. It was that she simply wasn’t into Haruka. A chilling thought came over her.

Mina had been making fun of her. She had set the whole thing up as a joke at Haruka’s expense.

She wiped her face on the skirt of her gown. She was just a joke, a freak, someone--someTHING, to be mocked, and Mina had thought it would be funny, she always thought these sort of things were funny, and the rage began to grow in her, fanned into a flame, and any good heart and good intentions she had choked on the smoke of it.

She punched the side of the stall, and heard a girl cry out in surprise.

Fucking Mina. Fucking Michiru. Fucking Seiya.

She burst out of the bathroom, not sure of what she was going to do, not sure was what she was going to say, but knowing she had to say it now, while the fire still burned, while her sword was still drawn, before she could lose course.

Seiya happened to be the first person her eyes found, chatting with her friends by the side of the gym, next to the refreshments. Casually leaning. Casually chatting. As if she hadn’t had a part in Haruka’s humiliation, as if she hadn’t planned this whole thing.

Seiya Kou was having a bad evening, it would be fair to say.

Haruka stomped across the gym and as soon as Seiya looked up, she put all of her weight behind a right hook to the face, knocking her backwards into the punch bowl, the sleeve of Haruka’s dress tearing away from the bodice with a loud rip. As Seiya fell, she reached out desperately, just narrowly grabbing Haruka’s skirt, and Haruka stumbled, unable to right herself, down on top of Seiya, the dark red punch staining her dress as she continued to swing wildly.

It was at this juncture that Haruka had a moment of clarity, as a group of boys yanked her off the top of Seiya.

She needed to take a walk. She needed to cool down. She needed to talk to somebody. She needed to do literally anything other than what she’d just done, the faces of the priests and nuns shining down on her like stone church statues in harsh judgment.

Her gown was torn and stained, and the entire room stared at her as she bit her tongue, willing herself not to cry, not to show a moment’s weakness, and she tasted the metallic salt of blood in her mouth.

A priest grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the hallway, spitting hellfire at her, a peppering of words about respect and being ladylike and repentance, but she wouldn’t listen, couldn’t listen, the whole world moving in slow motion, just thought over and over again about the smile on Mina’s face when she told Haruka, the kiss between Michiru and Seiya, the stares in the quiet gym.

Sitting on a bench near the St. Sebastian’s office, she touched her chest softly.

Her St. Joan medal was missing.

Fucking Haruka.

[eliza-writes-stuff]

Our Sweet Guardian Demon: Pilot Episode

Hey, guys! I have been working on this pilot for a few weeks now.

Now, for the fanfic, it will take me a few months. Our Sweet Guardian Demon will be released somewhere in the fall or early winter.

It’s strange that this idea came from “Imagine Your OT3″ XD

And as always, I hope ye enjoy!

Dogs barking, cats meowing, and parakeets tweeting their away. The pet store can be busy either way with people or animals in general. The phone vibrates in a man's pocket. His hand reaches for it and accepts the call. His other hand is scratching the dog's fur.

“Brian, do you need something?” The man in green apron asked. “I'm at work right now.”

“Yes, I know Brock, but can you stay over for the night?”

Brock hummed, “Why?”

“I know yer scared of this shit and don't want to get involved because my magick can hurt ye.” Brian ramble. There was some rustling in the background. “So, do ye, I don't focking know summon a demon with me?"

A demon? That is dangerous even for Brian's standard of black magick. Does he need to curse Evan again for coming over at his place without permission, but Brian isn't really angry at him. Did he got dared again on his group chat again? Brock thought he told him not to interact with them.

"Why do you need me?" Brock questioned. The dog barked next to him with curious puppy eyes. It laid down its head on Brock's lap.

"Yer the only one I can trust. Evan might touch me things without my goddamn permission and Nogla's a bit of a dumb-ass figure this shit out." Brian sighed. "I'm sorry ye don't want to do this and-"

"I'll join." Brock giggled at the stutters and 'whats' Brian said. "Just buy me lunch after this okay? Also, we better get out of this alive or I'll be stuck with you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Maybe."

Brian chuckled on the line, "I'll see you tonight Brocky."

When Brock's shift is over and he told Maxi watch over the shop tomorrow because he might be dead. Well, he left out the dead part. He says he has personal reasons. Maxi didn't pressure him and they were nice about it. They say that their sister and his two dogs, Oli and Nico  is coming over. Brock took an uber and tell the driver for the locations to the apartment.

The urban life is always bustling and chattering among the citizens. If he rolled down his window, there could be the smell of cooked processed fast food or baked chocolate chip cookies. At least the shops has a nice smell.

The uber driver came to an abrupt stop. There's the apartment building. Brock gave some money to the driver and gave him 5 stars since he didn't care about the rating. He got out of the car and hoisted up his backpack. This is it. His stomach sink, but his heart lighten up at the thought of Brian. He could protect him, right? Only one way to find out is to go in.

Brock pushed the glass door opened. The manager with pink hair is sitting down with his eyes seem to be always closed. The manager's expression light up and eyes slightly opened. When the glass door light out a creak. He gave a small wave to him and continue writing down. How can he see without his eyes opened? Never mind that. Brock has a date-hangout with Brian.

Both of them has to come out alive.

He stepped into the elevator and took a shaky breath. Maybe the ritual is a fluke. His trembling fingers pressed the buttons to go up on the fourth floor. The lobby was his view before it closes on him. Don’t chicken out now.

-

The candles are set up, the sigil is draw on the floor, and his other magic items are there. His hand wiped off the remaining sweat on his forehead. Thank god, Brian read the instructions. It has to work or it will be not worth it. He got out of the side room of his bedroom, which you should never have. Brian pulled out his phone and checks the text again.

~

Teh Terroriser: are u sure this would work?

Sarah: yes

Sarah: he’ll give you a special item that will reveal brock’s s/o

Sarah: but it’s for a price

Sarah: good luck :)

~

Brian knows he shouldn’t do this to reveal his friend’s secrets, but his friends tells him that Brock likes him back. No matter what they say, his brain denies, but his heart yearns. For years, he has considered practicing black magick as a hobby and finds it especially when it comes to pranking Nogla.

His hands gripped around his phone. Brian sighed and put his back in his pocket. A loud two time thud from his front door. It must be Brock. He ran from the bedroom to the front door and opened to see a small smile from a man.

“I thought you weren’t gonna join.” Brian said in disbelief.

Brock’s erupt into small, cute giggles, “Can’t let my friend die.” Brian lets him and hangs up his coat. “So, when we are summoning?”

“Either 2 or 3 in the morning.” He nervously laughed as Brock crossed his arms. “But in the meantime, wanna play Mario Kart 8?”

-

You had plenty of money in 1922.

A song from the jukebox softly plays throughout the tavern. Fairy lights almost covering the ceiling. A few folks chatting among themselves, either about rumors or sweet-talk. People had strange taste when it comes to alcohol. Vodka with orange juice? Now, you’re a true drunk toddler. At least there’s mineral water. A distinct smell came through the noses. Smoke. People aren’t allowed to smoke in the bar, so they had to take it outside. Strange.

You let other women make a fool of you.

Luke Patterson is the owner of Mystic Drinks. With his charming nature and sultry voice, it pleases the women and men. He’ll throw a smile, it swoons the ladies in the back. However, despite his seductive personality, you don’t want to leash the beast out of him. Well, he did in bed, but if someone ticked his long beard off. They’re either kick out or never be seen again. When Luke found the source of the smoking problem, he grabbed them by the collar. Kicking and yelling, people stared at the two. Finally, the door slams shut as the person got kicked. Luke’s eyes order to ignore it.

Why don’t you do right, like some other men do?

“That’s the third time you kicked out someone.” The man in glasses giggled.

Luke sighed and ruffled the man’s tied up bun. “Look I want to make a safe place for y’all and this is the thanks I get? People treat this like a dumpster fire Ohm.” Luke’s shoulders tensed, but calm when another bartender put his hands on it.

Get out of here and get me some money too?

“Don’t let that asshole get to you. He can take that nasty cigar and shove it up his ass.” The jiggly man retorted.

“Thanks Anthony.” 

Ohm enjoy his friends. Hearing Anthony laughed every time he makes a dumb, somewhat sexualised jokes. He knows Luke longer than Anthony. Some say they were friends with benefits, which it is true, but it’s over when Luke found a special someone, or two. They all became a couple, and they own a bar called Mystic Drinks. It’s a safe place for humans and creatures as well. Creatures, such as demons, wendigos, avains, lizard-folk, and dragons. Luke is a Lust demon, he and Anthony are Wrath demons, and Mini is an Envy demon.

“Hey, where’s Mini?”

“He got summoned.” Luke explained. “He said there’s this bitch who got jealous of this other bitch.” He let a breathy laugh, “Humans are so dumb.”

“Yep. I got summoned one time by this guy. He said ‘hey uh I want you to kill this asshole’ and I thought ‘you kill himself!” Anthony complained as he grabbed the mixer and shakes it. “Does it look like I’m your bitch?”

Ohm and Luke laughed at his story, “Sorry, but you and Mini are my bitches.” Luke put his arms around Anthony, but he shoved him off.

“Treat me first, you bottom bitch.” Then he pours the drinks in the blonde woman’s glass. Ohm laughed and takes a sip from his mineral water.

Humans meant nothing to demons. Just an object to toy around and maybe take souls from. At least a few souls because there’s an overpopulation going in the Nine Circles of Hell and they can’t handle more new souls coming to hell. What about humans who are satanist? They’re wannabes who thinks they know their emotions and what they’re going through. Some demons think it’s funny and plays along or can be their friend.

Why would Ohm be friends with a disgusting human? He gets a tug on his wrists, and he rolled down to see his sigil flashing.

“I have to go,” He sighed as he got up from his chair. “It was chatting with you guys.” Ohm walks away from the two and went outside. The guy who got kicked out because he was smoking. The man grumbled, but Ohm quickly snaps his fingers and the man is now in the trash can. He struggled while Ohm chuckles silently. He disappears from sight.

-

The red candles lit up and surrounds the circle. Inside of the circle is a sigil. The room faintly smells of raspberries. Brock and Brian sit crossed legged. The room doesn’t have any windows or one of those air vents. Not to mention it’s quite small. The phone glowed out the locked screen with the time of 3 in the morning.

“We got this set up, now what?” Brock asked. His eyes darting around the room.

“Now, we get to say the magic words.” Brian wiggled his fingers out, his friend giggle at the actions. He gives him a piece of paper. “This is what I’ll be saying and it’s not focking Latin. Thank god.”

“Wait, you’re doing this alone?”

“Well, yeah.” As much he wants Brock around, but he can’t join in because the demon might want something from him as well. He can’t risk it. “But ye get to drag me out in case shit backfires.”

“So basically I’m dragging your ass out of hell.”

“Yep.” He laughed. Then stares at the circle. It’s time. Brian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“Lord Satan, by your grace, grant me, I pray thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain by thy help, O Mighty Satan, the one True God who livest and reignest forever and ever. I entreat thee to inspire Ohmwrecker to manifest before me that she may give me true and faithful answer, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is proper to his/her office. This I respectfully and humbly ask in Your Name, Lord Satan, may you deem me worthy, Father.” 

A few minutes and still is in the air. Brian took a shaky breath and opened his eyes. This has to work because all that black magick he learn has gone to waste in the dirt.

Within the circle, the sigil glows bright red. Little red candles fire up more and sways. Then spreads in the circle. Brock gasped while Brian is shocked in disbelief. It’s supposed to glow pink, not red. Did he mess up the sigil? Oh god, what kind of demon would it be?

Fire and smoke rose from the ground, causing the two to scoot back. Brian wrapped his arm around Brock. Smoke fades when a man wearing a white t-shirt. Red marks on his arms when he crossed. His eyes are covered by a blindfold with an omega symbol on it. The demon scowled on the cowering men. If you look at another angle, you could see a small bun near his neck.

“Jeez, you humans are so irresponsible. Don’t you know I can end you?” Despite his tense aura and vexation, his appearance alone is heating up the room. Literally, Brian cheeks rushed with flushed and it appears that Brock’s cheeks has become too. “Just tell me what is the problem?”

Be respectful and welcoming, “Ye see, I accidentally summoned ye-”

“Accidentally?” His voice booms and the room almost shakes. A small desk in the corner almost felled.

“I wasn’t supposed to summon ye! I was trying to summon another demon. I must’ve got the sigil wrong or said the name wrong.” Brian explained. His sweat soaked his forehead and armpits. Surprised, it didn’t stink.

The demon clenched his nose before pointing fingers at Brian, “At least I know you waste my precious time and pissed me off even more.” He gives a low chuckle. “I supposed you deserve to be perish.” He raised his hand as Brian stands up to floating above his toes. Before the demon could grab his collar, Brock stands between them. “Mortal human get away or you’ll end up like your pathetic friend.”

“I could do that, but aren’t we supposed to make a deal?” Brian could almost hear his friend’s heart beat getting louder. “How about we find something you greatly desire: money, food, or heck even animals. Just don’t kill Brian please.” Brock begged, his voice wavering. Before you know it, Brian dropped onto the ground. He scrambled up to his feet and quickly hold his hand.

“Anything?” The demon rubbed his imaginary beard. “Fine. In order to save your soul, you must find a certain group of people and when you do. Kill them.” a shiver ran through their spine. “No matter depending on your morals or alignment, you still have to kill them. Including you cutie.” he points at Brock.

“You can’t do that! Don’t involve Brock into this bullshit. This is between me and you, ye cu-”

“Brian.” Brock gave a soft smile, “Please, you created this mess and I’m always the one who has to clean it up. You did promise to buy me lunch.”

 “Enough with the sappy talk. I have to make sure the both of you won’t try and escape.” With the snap of his fingers, visible chains on Brian’s right wrist and Brock’s left wrist. It’s connected to the demon’s wrist. “It’s better that way.”

“Sorry, but can you please tell us your name?”

“I’m quite sure ‘Brian’ knows who I am, but I let it pass since you do have a good soul.” Before he could introduce himself, he kinda stop. He seems to be his thoughts while glancing at two, but shake his head. “I am known as Ohmwrecker, but my companions call me Ohm.”

[stusbunker]

Known Finale: Just One of The Many

A Supernatural DARK Fan-fiction

Featuring: Demon!reader x Moc!Dean,  Dean x Chloe “CC” Collins: Hunter/ Nephilim Anomaly OFC, Charlie Bradbury, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Death, and Amara

Summary: CC deals with the consequences of her actions. Dean gets a voicemail and our reader finds that Winchesters rarely heed any advice. Some dialogue is taken from canon. This is it folks, the final chapter. Thank you so much for reading until now. xoxo Stu

Beta’d: @thoughtslikeaminefield and @dontshootmespence Ladies, I owe you more than I can express.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

Series Masterlist

*^*^*^*^

Dark Dynasty

May 6, 2015

Sam’s Code Breaking Hideout

          “Sam and Dean are like my brothers. I love them.” Charlie stood before Rowena, soft and sure.

            “I know. And that steadfast loyalty will be your undoing, my girl,” Rowena’s brief kindness faded into a marked taunt. Charlie squinted at the witch’s retreating form before looking to CC for shared annoyance, instead she found a gentle agreement on the hunter’s face. 

CC wasn’t one for cat fights and she certainly wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire Sam had started by shoving the hacker and the Queen Mother of Hell together, but Rowena had a point. Charlie was just more forgiving than most and CC had been in the life too long for that kind of optimism.

May 7, 2015

Crowley’s Earthside Operation

            “--look, I get it. She’s unpleasant. She’s horrible. She has a messy workstation! What’s the dirt?! There must be something that I don’t know about her. Something I can hold over her as a bargaining chip. A demon lover?” Crowley was incensed with a hamster in a cage, which would have been concerning, if you didn’t understand the hamster as well as your boss. “You don’t need to paint a picture.”

            You bit back a smile as the hamster spewed off Rowena’s questionable decisions like a grocery list.. Naturally, his birth came up along the litany. As his patience started to slip to microscopic proportions, you cleared your throat. “She once saved a little boy’s life.”

            “You, not funny,” Crowley bellowed over his shoulder before he leaned down to glare at the hamster.

            “Oh, come on, it is a little funny, but that’s only ‘cuz it’s true,” you purred, leaning your elbow on the opposite side of the cage’s lid, eyebrows raised in challenge. Crowley’s dark eyes danced over yours as the hamster that was once Olivette grew unnaturally quiet.

            “What’s the punchline?” he demanded.

            You sighed and mock whispered, “he’s still alive.”

            “And?”

            “I’ve met him. Tall, cherub curls and innocent as a Rockwell painting.” The hamster slowly crawled to your side of the forgotten wheel. Crowley listened as you explained the story you had pieced together, a tale of a friendly witch who’d been adopted by an impoverished farming family, lifetimes ago. Before you could give him more than the bare outline of Rowena’s startling past, he was bellowing for a minion and the taste of freedom started to ghost over your tongue.

 Blackbird Motel

            CC picked up the phone on the third ring; it was Cas in a panic. “Chloe, what are you doing?”

            “Girls’ night out, grabbing some pay per view and thinking about throwing a motel party,” CC mocked as she checked that the door and the windows were secure.

            “You know that the Stynes will stop at nothing to find the book.” CC rolled her eyes at the patronizing tone from the angel.

            “Well, it’s a good thing we don’t have the book. Look, she needed a Rowena free space and I can’t blame her. Let the woman work so we can get this over with, once and for all,” CC closed her eyes as Charlie set up her computer, backpack full of notes left on the table untouched.

            “It isn’t just Charlie I’m worried about,” Cas’s voice dropped in warning.

            “We’ll be fine,” CC replied tersely. “I’ll call you when we know more,” she added to appease Charlie’s worried glances before hanging up. “Alright, I don’t think I bought us much time; work your magic.”

            The rain muddied everything, CC’s alertness as well as any sound or scent outside. She hadn’t sat since they arrived, knowing that even a lumpy mattress would push her exhaustion away in the blink of an eye. Startlingly quick, Charlie found the cypher. Just as CC decided she would always bet on red, a gut dropping pound sounded at the door. She waved Charlie into the bathroom as she released her knife from her hip.

            “I know you’re there, Miss Asimov,” a taunting drawl notched CC’s adrenaline to eleven. “You have it, I want it!”

            CC’s mind raced, no time for witty replies now. She had been out of practice and somehow the Book of the Damned had juiced up this family into something she didn’t know how to kill. He banged again, voice genteel and grating. She inhaled and finally spoke, “it’s not here, Jethro. You can back off.”

            “Well, that wasn’t too hard now was it?” And he kicked in the door. He was striking, refined and enraged, and missing half an arm. CC recoiled briefly before squaring up, knife at the ready, focus locked onto her target. “You’re not who I was expecting, darlin’. But either you’re gonna tell me where that book is, or I’m gonna take it out of your little redheaded friend.”

            CC heard Charlie’s voice through the rain and the thin walls, but she doubted whichever Styne stood in front of her could. Help was on the way, all CC had to do was hold the guy off for twenty minutes and the cavalry could clean up. Except fights never lasted that long and the glare he was shooting, told her he thought he’d already won.

            “You should leave, trust me.” CC walked toward him, he wasn’t overly large, a hair smaller than Dean. It was the unnatural way he moved, despite massive blood loss that had her questioning her every step.

            “Not until I get what’s mine,” he bit the last word out with curling lips. He leaped at her, right hand swatting hers as he stepped into her space. Bloody stump of a forearm pushing into her throat. CC dropped lower, getting a nick to his side, slicing through waistcoat, shirt and flesh in practiced motions. He didn’t flinch; the only indication he felt the wound was how his nose flared as he looked into her eyes, disdain dripping from his every pore.

            His hand locked around her wrist, squeezing, the tendons screaming until she felt her bones snap. She kneed his groin, using her center of gravity to push him back. Her knife useless in her misconnected hand, CC dropped it, leaving them to spar on more even terms. The broken in door swung on its hinges in the storm outside and just as CC spotted the shadow watching them a heart-stopping thwack and shattering of plastic sounded from the bathroom. In the second it took CC to realize they knew Charlie was still there, she froze. The blonde kicked her blade to his silent partner and before CC could get out more than a slight force of will against them, they had her caged in.

            His mangled arm wrapped around her neck, unable to grant the pressure he wanted, so he tipped her face at the ceiling, broken wrist pulled across her chest like a frayed seatbelt. The other Styne, the one in the long woolen coat kept quiet, inspecting the intricate carvings on each side of her treasured weapon. The one restraining her let out a low whistle. 

“Oh, that is nice, a bit too classy for the likes of you, though. Now, you gonna sit politely and let us finish our business here, or are you gonna make my cousin put you down with your own blade, girl?”

            CC was, had, and would never be the type to sit politely. She jammed her left elbow into her cage’s ribs. A guttural shriek came from her chest as she tried to bend low enough to get him off his feet in an augmented arm toss. But that only occupied one of her opponents; with little more than a raised eyebrow the cousin jabbed in and down, pulling her collar open like a macabre off the shoulder number. Everything burned, CC fell to her knees, the blonde man walked her down. The gold started to spark in her periphery, and she willed her body to stop. She couldn’t heal, not in front of these kind of men, if any part of them even remained human. Suddenly a hand was on her jaw and her neck popped. She fell, broken and trapped inside her own mind.

            CC watched their tailored suit pants and polished shoes retreat to the bathroom. The sound of blood thrummed in her ears masking the rain and the demands, but not Charlie’s cries. Those she heard as tears of guilt burned through until she willed her eyes closed with the last wisp of energy she could muster. She didn’t want to black out, she needed to stay in control, but her body stopped listening.

            She sat up in a lurch of panic, neck reattached despite herself. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, there he was, covered in Charlie’s blood.

            “Chloe! Thank fuck, what happened?!” Sam crouched over her, eyes misting with grief and shame. She couldn’t answer him, her throat remained partially crushed, and it took nearly all her focus not to repair the damage-- to give herself the pain, a shallow penance for Charlie’s life. Her eyes returned across the room, to Dean holding Charlie’s face in his hands like a parent in comfort, stroking the hair from her face. CC’s sob came out in a shrill wail, gasps as the reality and terror flooded her senses. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Sam’s voice held more than the moment, it was a blanket covering their entire operation. The deceit that was supposed to help, yet it only pushed Dean further away from them all.

The Woods

            Dean felt CC’s brows raise as his words cut into Sam at the pyre, but he didn’t care. This was on her almost as much as it was on Sam. He was so sick of people he trusted letting him down. But this, this was wrong. It was Charlie and she was gone. Screw ‘em. Screw all of them because he couldn’t look them in the eye anymore; their betrayal was beyond gut souring.

            “Yeah, you had a shot. Well, you’re all terrible shots, ‘cause Charlie’s dead. Nice shot.”

            Sam looked up, trying to find his words, to combat the monotoned cruelty of Dean’s voice. “You think I am ever--- going to forgive myself for that?!”

            “You want to know what I think? I think it should be you up there, not her.” Dean barely even moved to deliver the last blow. CC cleared her throat, unable to listen any longer. 

“Don’t get me started on you! This thing with Cas and the book ends now. Shut it down before someone else gets hurt. You both understand me?”

            “What about you?” Sam was the beaten puppy that could.

            “Oh, I’m gonna find whoever did this. And I am going to rip apart everything and everyone that they ever loved, and then I am gonna tear out their heart.” He wasn’t even enthused about it, it came off like weekend plans, point by point.

            “Is that you talking, or the Mark?” Sam needed to stop asking questions.

            “Does it matter?” Dean left the challenge hanging in the air, walking away. Leaving those responsible to watch Charlie burn.

The Prisoner

            Dean waited on Rudy to run the plates while he pointedly ignored a call from Cease. Setting his sights on Shreveport, he went back to listen to the voicemail she left him. Which started off with oddly timid ramblings before she got to her point.

“Maybe in another life, we could have had something close enough to normal. But not after everything.” Dean could hear her sniffling; her voice came back with a bite to it. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Charlie, about everything. I should have protected her, but I couldn’t even do that for you. And I fucking hate that, but it’s on me. No matter what you say or do Dean, it is on me. Not Sam.

But apologies are for regret, and I don’t regret trying to help you. If goodbyes are forever, well I aint ready for that sappy shit.”

Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest, it didn’t even hurt anymore. Nothing could touch him; it was the ghost of loss that haunted him. The guilt of unfeeling. Somehow it all came back to rage. He huffed, tongue teasing his back teeth.

“So, I guess, take care of yourself because that’s what I gotta do now.” The line stayed open for a fathomless beat and then the electronic female voice was reading him his saving options. Dean slammed the end call button, leaving Chloe’s voice hanging in the ether between a saved and deleted message.

Curtis’ Motor Court

Brother’s Keeper

            You sifted through the mess of Dean’s making, curious to see if he’d return. He’d certainly given the $39 a night room the rock star treatment. Without any current errands for Crowley, you decided to try your luck. Dean had gone radio silent and that only meant one of two things: he had succumbed to the curse on his arm, or he was done with you. Either way, you had to be sure. Sam found you in the end. He came in, gun raised and desperation bursting out with his big heaving chest.

            “Hey there, Sammy,” you greeted glibly, perched beside the note and keyring. “He knew you’d show.”

            “Who are you?!” Sam barked behind his intricate gun.

            “Just looking for your brother, I’ve been hearing things and it sounds bad,” you sighed, letting your eyes fill in.

“What do you want with Dean?” Sam kept his gun in one hand and reached for his flask.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Same thing as you, want to make sure he’s still Dean. That he’s safe. That everyone is safe.”

“You’re?” Realization washed over him, causing you to hum against a giggle. The latest vessel’s voice bubbly despite your best efforts.

“Long time.” You stood holding out your hand, which you awkwardly tucked into the back pocket of her jeggings. “Heard you struck out on Crowley, too bad on that.”

“Yeah, well, he deserves it.” Sam stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek. “Have you seen him? Any idea where he’s going?”

“Not where, but what,” you sighed and looked up at Sam with warning. “He’s done, Sam. He told me so and after Charlie, I can only imagine—”

“Wait, what are you talking about? When did you see him? You know what, forget it. I’ll find him on my own,” Sam turned to go.

“If Crowley can’t crossroad deal something away and Cas can’t heal it off, who would Dean go to?”

“He hates praying,” Sam shook his head. He flinched, but instinctively caught the keys to the Impala you tossed to him.

“Somebody he knows, Sam. That’s he’s seen, face to face.”

He left without a goodbye or any gratitude, but you allowed Sam his head start.

Juanita’s

Outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma

            You pulled up to the run-down restaurant just as Sam stormed inside, your demon senses telling you to stick to the perimeter. Death had already answered Dean’s call and the combination of voices left you enough to eavesdrop with. The hallway that lead into the main dining space was caked in dust. Dean’s voice bellowed, and it was as if you felt the hit his words landed on Sam. This wasn’t your place, this was a sacred conversation, of families and honor and things creatures like yourself couldn’t quite grasp anymore. It was also maddening.

            When the punches started flying you stalked in, earning nothing more than a single finger shush from Death himself. Dean had the upper hand, but that didn’t make you feel any better about his state. Sam yielded, bloodied on his knees. Dean was dark and determined, flashes of a younger soul clouding your thoughts.

            “You’ll never, ever hear me say, that you, the real you, is anything but good,” Sam pleaded from the floor. He spat and pulled himself taller. “But you’re right, before you hurt anyone else, you have to be stopped, at any cost.”

            Your vessel’s blood ran cold. Sam’s tears somehow made their way to your eyes and he nodded to the eternal executioner. “Do it.”

            Dean looked back to Death and he handed Dean his scythe. “Please, do me the honor.”

            Dean took the weapon in awe, gauging the curve of the blade and the balance in the handle. He appeared transfixed and obedient. You tried to scream, but nothing came out. This wasn’t Dean’s destiny, no matter what Cain nor Angels decreed. He couldn’t kill Sam. Dean would not. He inhaled and faced Sam’s shaking form, towering over his brother who had been bigger than him for nearly twenty years. Everyone froze as Dean told him to close his eyes, something he probably said a thousand times before.

            Sam prevailed, he pulled scraps from his jacket and set them at Dean’s feet. Begging him to find his way back, to himself and to family. Death knew better than to let a sibling’s pleas go on too long.

            “It is for family you must proceed, Dean. To be what you are, to become what you’ve become is a stain on their memory. Do it or I will,” he wasn’t demanding, he was calm in a finite kind of way. His words crawled in your ears and taunted your every memory of Dean; it was as if Death could reimagine him into someone else just by sheer force of will. Truth and your unshaken faith in the man Dean was, at his core, beat back Death’s sway.

            Dean paused, genuine anguish in his features as he let Sam make the final call. Even though Sam nodded for him to proceed, Dean asked one last thing from Sam, “forgive me.” 

He lifted the weapon and swung a wide arch, clear into Death himself. The puny man disintegrated before your eyes and suddenly you were in control of your vessel once more. You staggered into the room, legs wobbling from strain at fighting Death’s hold. 

You missed a moment the brother’s shared before blurting out, “What the fuck was that, Dean?!”

            “I think I just killed Death,” Dean sounded on the edge of fear. “Who even are you, lady?”     

            A dumbstruck Sam chuckled, “Dean, this is, uh, Chloe’s demon? I guess.”

            “Y/N? Nice digs.” You smiled gently as Dean’s lip quirked.

            “Wait, you know her actual name?” Sam sputtered as thunder rolled in, made from a wall of voices, out of nowhere.

            “Does that sound right to you?” Dean worried just as the flash of lightning burst through the ceiling. You screeched as Dean groaned with the impact, the magic peeling the Mark of Cain from his skin like an instant laser treatment. Just as quickly as it arrived, it returned through the roof. You gaped at the haphazard miracle you had all witnessed.

            You followed Dean cautiously, his hand reaching back to take yours, pulling the door shut behind you. Sam started talking through the disbelief. “This is good. Dean, this is good. The Mark is off your arm, nothing crazy happened, you get your baby back.”

            Dean dropped your hand to take the keys from Sam. “Yeah, I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.” Nothing came without a price. Dean headed to the car as sizzling jolts of pink lightning webbed across the sky. Pillars of bolts staggered like tendrils in patternless cascades. Then it stopped.

            “What did Death call this?” Sam knew his victory speech had been a tad premature.

            “The Darkness,” you and Dean said in unison.

            Erupting from the points of impact came giant streaks of black smoke, denser and grittier than any demon. They shot through the sky like dancers hitting a mark, synchronized destruction. They merged in a nearby field and exploded into a boiling mound of matter, growing like an ancient horror show entity. Constantly expanding as you stood beside the pathless hunters.

            “Get in the car! Let’s go, let’s go.” You didn’t even hesitate, Dean pointed, and you listened, sliding into the backseat as if you had never left CC, never been cast out, never been a demon. The sheer terror of the moment dwarfed the realization and you slammed your foot down to help Dean accelerate, a phantom driver. The Impala’s back tires spun through the mud and you gripped the middle of the front seat, desperate to make the escape. The rear wheel fell into a pothole and Dean threw his door wide, panicked.

            “Dean!” Sam looked to the looming shadow as it grew closer, an unstoppable avalanche toppling everything it passed. In two breaths, it had overtaken the Impala. One moment you felt eyes on you and the next Dean had disappeared. Doors and windows all secure, but he was gone. The rolling black cloud jostled the car frame, knocking Sam out before you could ask him if he saw his brother. With every ounce of strength, you had you pushed the backdoor open, the endless tide of fog pushing you back, a tadpole against the current.

            Losing your vessel was your only hope to find Dean in the Darkness, you left her outside the Impala and swam up. This wasn’t the soaring you found most freeing, this was a frenzy of sound and force thrashing against the streams of your being. You reached out with your senses, feeling for Dean, his heartbeat, his scent, his voice. Needling through the chaos desperate to find him. Then you heard his name on the wind and someone else’s tongue.

            She stood with Dean in a clearing that was still drenched in shadow. She was dark lines and angles, elegant black dress hugging her effortlessly. He called out and you dropped down, trying to hold your molecules together in some discernible form. If he saw you, he didn’t reach out to touch you then. He was transfixed by her, by the Darkness personified. He stood challenging her, demanding why she hasn’t atomized him. Then she played him with the destiny card, endlessly bound by the mark on her clavicle. THE MARK, lock and key.

            There was no thought, just white hot, blinding rage. You snaked between them, spreading out to hold her from him. He had come too far to be made into her mindless drone. You had to stop her, you had to save him. As she leaned forward, closing the distance between her and Dean, you screamed without vocal cords. Vibrating with ownership you tried to push her back. You felt her eye your gaseous state and suddenly everything ceased to be. 

 There was no longer Darkness, nor Dean, nor you. It was just, Empty.

Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Dean pulled away from the pristine farmhouse, leaving Jenna and Amara in the safety of family. He had another long drive ahead of him to catch up with Sam. Now that Baby was passenger free; his mind got too loud. He thought that Y/N had been plucked out of the car with him; he couldn’t see her, but he had felt her until he didn’t. There was a gnawing in his stomach on the whim of her bailing on him and her vessel. Something the Darkness said without saying filled the void of doubt with an unwanted certainty.

“No matter where I am, who I am, or who is in the way. We will always help each other,” she promised him. Dean felt it was more warning than devotion, though he couldn’t help but agree. He may have lost the Mark, but he was far from free of it.

*^*^*^*

Epilogue

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

Unexpected Repercussions

(COMPLETE)

Peter Parker goes missing and SHIELD suspects Quentin Beck. The only problem is that he's been on house arrest. He has no clue where Spider-Man is. As it turns out- Peter is closer to Quentin than could have ever been guessed.

excerpt - (basically chapter 1)

Quentin Beck's apartment wasn't small by any means. His previous career at Stark Industries had left him a rather wealthy man and with that money he was able to afford a nicely sized apartment for one man. It was the size of a medium house and with an open floor plan for the kitchen, dining, and living along with a high ceiling the place felt larger than it was. Especially with the mostly white interior and minimalist style the furnishings had. It had become more cluttered recently after he was fired but before hand he was hardly ever at home and too many decorations distracted him. It was just enough to sate his OCD without over stimulating him.

Though, no matter how big it felt or how neat the decor was, it got small and boring fast for a man who had been on house arrest since July.

It was embarrassing really, absolutely humiliating. Oh how damaged his pride was.

To this day he still wasn't sure how Nick Fury and SHIELD had gotten the jump on him. One minute he's mentally tormenting Spider-Man in Berlin and the next he's stunned, electricity coursing through his veins and taking him to the ground. He had been electrocuted by plenty of experiments but never tased. It was certainly something he never wanted to feel again.

At least his own apartment was better than a five by five foot containment cell in some SHIELD facility. They had him in one of those for at least a month if not longer before they got tired of hearing him complain about it. At least that's what he told himself. It was better than being reminded that he was being used. They needed a new Tony Stark and they used him for tech upgrades. That was the most humiliating part of it all. He hated being used and working for someone else, especially when he got no credit whatsoever. His goal had been to rise up on top, be a hero and never work for anyone ever again. Only to get knocked down a reasonable amount of pegs and to wind up working for SHIELD.

He would have just hacked his way out of an ankle monitor if it had been that easy. The scar that marked the chip surgically implanted in his arm itched as a reminder that we was now basically a slave. He had tried to sort it out so maybe he could run, never to be found again, but he had only succeeded in harming himself.

Originally when it was set the perimeter was the entire building. So when he needed to stretch his legs and go beyond his apartment he'd walk the halls and sometimes take the stairs to the roof. This is when he learned he had not only a chip but an agent watching him as well. One day he had climbed up to the roof of the building only to be startled when the guy busted through the door panting (the idiot probably climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator) an brandishing one of those damn tasers. He immediately recognized him too. He had seen the guy lingering in the hall outside his apartment once or twice. After that his perimeter was set to just his apartment. He couldn't even walk out the front door without getting a small jolt from the chip. It was as if he were a dog with a shock collar.

So now he paced about his apartment restlessly. He had a treadmill but it wasn't energy he needed to burn, he needed a change of scenery. At least he had a balcony. It was awful though for the days he was stuck. When he couldn't think and ideas just weren't coming. Usually he would walk down to the park just a five minute walk from his building but now he couldn't even do that.

His frustration was pent up and he felt like screaming but he knew that would irritate the neighbors and someone would call to complain meaning the building would call SHIELD and Fury would be on his ass about it. He really hated that guy.

Quentin settled for a growl and a huff as he plopped down on his couch. He growled again as he rubbed his temples, sinking lower to where he was almost uncomfortably slouching against the cushions. He needed to think but his mind wasn't giving him anything, it was just blank, empty, void of anything helpful.

A meow sounds from his left and he glares at the cat who's positioned herself on the pillow next to him. For a cat he kept around only to keep out bugs and snakes and rodents she sure was spoiled. Well, she was mostly there for the snake part. He was deathly afraid of those but that bit of information was usually the very last thing he would tell anyone.

She meows again and even though Quentin glares at her she remains in her place. She must want food. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day they brought him groceries. Hopefully that included cat food.

They end up starring at each other for a while. Quentin tries to figure out where the couch stops and where his white cat begins. She was very good at startling him, she blended in so well with the walls that he almost never saw her coming unless he was looking for her. He assumed somehow she figured this out because she got into the habit of making her presence known when she entered a room he was in. Usually by meowing.

The cat jumps off the couch rather suddenly and runs off when the front door suddenly opens. Quentin nearly does the same since he wasn't expecting the sudden intrusion. Though, that was expected with SHIELD unfortunately.

What's odd is that Fury is the first to walk in and behind him are Hill as well as several other agents. It seems like a raid almost. Fury looks pissed but when does he ever not.

"Is it too much to hope you're bringing me groceries a day early?" He quips, still sitting and watching as the agents begin to look around the apartment. There wasn't much in it so it would be a quick job.

"Watch it or we'll send military rations again. Another two weeks of MRE's sound good to you Beck?" Nick Fury scowls, looking down at him with a challenge in his eye. Quentin rolls his eyes, the memory not exactly pleasant. He had managed to piss off SHIELD somehow and they sent him two weeks worth of military field food. He practically starved to death as a refusal to eat them. They tasted nasty anyways and he could hardly believe they fed that to their armed forces.

"I'm good thanks." He huffs, taking another glance around his apartment and the chaos going on as the agents looked in everything with a door. "Look, the tech you asked for isn't done yet so unless there's some other reason for you disturbing Delilah and me-"

"Where's Spider-Man?" Fury is blunt and his anger seeps out in his tone. He looks like he wants to grab him and pull him onto his feet. Quentin saves him the trouble and stands up, keeping eye contact the entire time. "How the hell should I know? I've been on house arrest for the past two months. Can't exactly leave the place to kidnap a kid without your dogs sniffing me out first." He's just as pointed, making sure to let it be known how unhappy he is with only being allowed as far as his balcony.

Fury doesn't ask, instead he looks up at a Maria Hill who looks eager to speak to him and all the other agents have stopped moving about. Quentin looks towards her as well.

"He's not here sir. No sign of fowl play either." She looks almost disappointed and if he thought Fury couldn't look angrier somehow he was capable. Geeze, you'd thing what your prime suspect not being the one to blame would be a relief. It doesn't stop him from throwing a mocking grin his way though. He was innocent and he felt he had every right to be upset they disrupted his day and accused him of Parker's disappearance.

He opens his mouth to say something but Hill adds, "he hasn't been taking the medications either. All but one dosage untouched since last delivery." At which his smile drops and Fury quirks a brow.

Another dreadful thing that had come out of everything. When he was still being held at the facility they did a mentally evaluation on him. If he remembered correctly he had OCD (which he already knew about), NPD, BPD, and Bipolar One. Afterwards they practically forced him to take various medicines for all of them. One time when things got bad, when he was having a rough time from being cooped up and frustrated with his work he thought he would try and take all the pills they had provided him with until he realized they were in measures doses. No more than three days worth of each. They didn't even give him more until he was out.

"And why not?" Fury asks, crossing his arms and stiffening his posture. If he didn't know any better he'd think the man was about ready to shove them down his throat.

"They don't work and I hate them," he says with a shrug, "I took them this morning and all they've managed to do was frustrate me and delay working on your shit. And the blue one makes me tired."

Of course Hill just has to argue, "it's supposed to. It's for your Bipolar One and you're supposed to take it at night to help with sleep."

He rolls his eyes and turns from Fury to her, why did they care so much about his headspace? He hadn't killed himself yet and apparently the narcissistic part of him kept him from doing just that. "Well how was I supposed to know there were different times?" Mostly he's giving her a hard time just to be a little shit but at the same time he actually didn't know that.

"If you read the directions taped onto your mirror-"

"That's enough." Fury cuts in and that's the end of it. He makes a movement with his head and the agents file out of the apartment. "If we find out Parker's disappearance has anything to do with you Beck you lose any and all privileges you have left."

Quentin rolls his eyes yet again but nods anyways. Gosh, the stick up that guys ass. He was ready for him to leave. Thankfully he does just that and he's alone yet again.

He couldn't help but wonder though, what had happened to Peter that SHIELD was looking for him. It wasn't a 'he's avoiding us' approach it was 'he's been taken and possibly dead' kind. Or maybe they were just always over dramatic.

At least he didn't have to deal with it anymore.

READ CHAPTERS 2 & 3 ON AO3

[surrounded-by-superheroes]

The Poisonous Cure

Summary; Loki runs into a young girl on his morning walk and is shocked to learn she’s more than just a minor selling herself on the streets. Her web is more tangled than perhaps even his, and she certainly holds as many secrets. He swears to find more about her, but does he really want to?

Author’s Note; Heyyy, so this is my new Loki fic. It’s different than any I’ve posted before, so I hope you all like it. Loki is an Avenger and they’re all in the tower. *sighs* Simpler times. If you want to be tagged, comment or reblog telling me so. This is a warning from here on out; this is a dark tale. The main character has been through several layers of hell and it shows. If you want all fluff and no hard stuff, this is not the fic for you. Alright, here we go.

Warnings; Language, pimps, sexual assault, mentions of sex, like I said, this is dark.

Words; 2,452

Chapter One

Little Witch

No Rest for the Wicked-Lennon and Maisy

The wind whistles around my ears and I shut my eyes to savor every wisp that thinks to caress me. It’s been getting colder and colder out here and that means girls are going to start falling soon. It’s going to matter who stays standing and I’m determined to be one of them. My skin is almost an ungodly heat at all times, so I don’t foresee any problem. The streets I’m on are littered with trash, including the girls that line the concrete walls in their skimpy clothes; including me. I’m dressed up in my Sunday best; a teal leather jacket, a black cut-off shirt that’s basically a bra, and a white flowy skirt that attracts guys like moths to a flame. They’re suckers for the school girl type. A black mustang pulls up in front of me and I’m quick to walk up to the window, leaning my arms on it after the man inside lowers the glass.

“Hey, sweetie. You looking for a little fun?” I ask sweetly, smiling innocently at the salt and pepper haired man in the driver’s seat. He only has a couple wrinkles and is most likely just forty; younger than my usual clients. He smiles to show off perfect teeth and looks me up and down like a meal.

“What can you do right here in this car? I’ve got no time to take you anywhere.” He tells me in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. It’s hard not to cringe from the grating sound, instead I wink and open his door, smoothly sliding myself onto his lap and shutting the door once again. My hands gently lay on his shoulders and my skirt flutters over his lap to shield his growing erection.

“I can do everything right here in this car. Just name it.” I tell him with a smooth, low voice.

“You’re already in the right position.” He grins again and affixes his lips to my neck as I stare blankly at the ceiling of his car, going through the motions like every other time. When he’s done I’m quick to get my money and get out. Men usually appreciate a girl who knows not to linger. The cold air hits me like a slap to my face, but I force myself down the sidewalk anyway as a tint of yellow light colors the sky. Going against the wind is hell, but it’s the quickest way back to my apartment. My lips form a macabre grin when I think of my greeting when I get there, my earnings from today tucked into a hidden compartment in my jacket making me feel warmer than the rising sun. I’ve almost always been his favorite. I bring in the most money out of all the girls because of my young age. There is no end to the perverts in this world and my paycheck depends on it. Everyone other than the boss man hates me because I’m the best, as well as the fact that I can steal their clients. I don’t feel guilty about it. It’s kill or be killed out here and I’m glad I don’t have any friends to distract me. Well, except the little black cat outside my window. Caught up in my musings I run smack dab into a man in a long black coat. In my defense, he seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

“Hey, watch it fucker.” I snap instantly and move around him.

“Excuse me?” He asks and I can tell by the clarity of his voice that he’s turned around toward me. Sighing, I turn towards him and look at his face. Bright blue eyes, surprisingly long, shiny, black hair, and sharp fucking cheekbones.

“Look, I’m tired and sick of men. Walk away, trench coat.” I command and cross my arms on my chest. His eyebrows go up when he actually looks me up and down, then turns completely towards me.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a whore?” He asks in a tone of complete interest. His question shocks me into a moment of silence and he takes the opportunity to walk closer to me. When he’s a foot away from me my body instantly reacts by shoving my hands out in front of me. They shake violently, but they’re the only thing that’s moving. The man has completely frozen. The wind blows but not a hair on his head moves and his coat remains still instead of flapping around him like mine. I take a breath and lower my hands, already backing up quickly. I know from experience that this won’t last very long.

“Old enough to trick you, sweetheart. Don’t worry, it’ll wear off.” I flick him off and turn around, rushing away as fast as I can go in my heels. Luckily, my apartment is just around the corner. Sighing in relief, I shut the black door behind me and head to the right where the bosses room is. He’s everyone’s first stop when we get in. I knock lightly on the green door, the only one in this place that doesn’t have chipping paint, and step back to wait. A minute passes, then another girl answers the door and gestures for me to come in after she steps out. I can practically feel the heat of her hate radiating from her blue eyes and she makes sure to flip her blonde extensions before flouncing out and shutting the door.

“Is that my favorite girl?” I hear the deep voice of Strike coming from behind the thin shutter doors cutting across the middle of the room. He’d taken over two rooms down here, one for meetings adorned with leather couches, televisions, and bars. The other is his personal room equipped with a bed and desk. If he’s in that room, it’s bad news for me. I swallow and put on my most convincing smile, then head to the shuttered doors.

“Yes, sir. I’ve got a little something for you.” I say coyly through the door, hoping he’ll come in here instead of inviting me in.

“Baby girl, I’ve been waiting for you to get back. Why don’t you come on in with your gift and nothing else?” He asks and I shut my eyes in dread, but instantly strip as per his instructions. Grabbing the money from my jacket, I open the doors and smile. Say what you will about Strike, he is not an unattractive man. His curly, caramel colored hair is always tousled from sex and his thin, pink lips are usually stretched into a satisfied smile. He’s tall as well, at least six foot one and has always been fit. Right now, he has on pressed black slacks and a completely unbuttoned white shirt to show off his chiseled chest. His green eyes fix themselves on me and have always reminded me of a snake’s scales, or perhaps that’s just the man behind them. “Hello, gorgeous. What’s this gift you have for me? Other than your lovely presence, of course.” Strike asks in his signature smooth, soft voice, sliding off the bed lithely and heading over to me. I do my best not to flinch when his hand glides down my cheek. See, what the other girls don’t understand is that I’m not Strike’s favorite because I bring in the most money. I’m his favorite because I fear him the most and he knows it. I hold up the wad of money in slightly trembling fingers and he grins in a way that could be mistaken for affection. I know him too well for that.

“It was a good night tonight.” I tell him simply as he slips the money out of my fingers, then takes my index in his mouth. He sucks and pulls off with an audible pop, as if licking a delicious sauce off my fingers. Perhaps he can taste the fear pouring off my skin and feeds off it like a leech. I let my hand fall back to my side, but don’t dare wipe his saliva off yet. His hand falls a little further down and he lets his thumb rest on my jugular, so I know he feels it when I swallow nervously.

“Ah, this is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve always been my best girl.” He coos and squeezes my neck just enough to be vaguely threatening. I make sure to keep a smile on my face as I stare into his eyes. Strike lets the wad of cash gently skim over my collar bone and in between my breasts as he bites his lip. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to enjoy you this morning. I have business to attend to.” He laments and I do my best to pout instead of sigh in relief. The next thing I know his lips are on mine and his tongue is violating my mouth. Instantly I return the kiss, patiently waiting until he’s done. We part and he sighs, his spicy breath staining my nose as well as my mouth with his scent. “Since I’m so happy with you today, I’ll give you two hundred dollars. Now, get your fine ass some sleep.” He slaps my ass for emphasis and smiles when I yelp. I’m quick to take the money he offered and get out, barely slipping my clothes back on before going back to my room. The best girls are on the same floor as the boss, so my room is just down the hall in the back-right corner.

I sigh in relief once I’m inside and immediately scrub my hands and rinse my mouth with a shot of tequila. Next, I change into a comfortable dress. Rule one of being here, no matter where you are or what time it is, always be ready to see the boss. My room is small and cozy. The one safe place I have in my crazy ass life. Walking in all one can see is a narrow hallway that leads to a miniscule sitting room furnished with just a couch, coffee table, and television on the half wall that cuts the room in half. On the other side of that wall is my bed and a floor to ceiling window that leads to a small alley not even big enough to fit a grown man in. The wall itself is actually a built-in bookshelf that I just use for clothes. Across from my bed is a bathroom that’s probably the same size as my couch. I’m just thankful for running water and an unclogged toilet. Some of the girls have to share a bathroom and I’m immensely glad to keep mine to myself. Beside the bathroom is a kitchen of the same size that has almost no counter space, but has a fridge, oven, and microwave. The walls are mostly white, other than the chipping where some of the walls meet. My bed spread is a dull grey and my couch is tan. Really, the only color in my entire apartment are the clothes I have stacked in my bookshelves and the only lights are can lights. I kneel down on the wooden floors and tap in a little circle for the loose board. The hollow knocking sound alerts me to it’s hiding place and I put pressure on the other end, causing it to tip up. I tuck the two hundred into an empty sauce jar I use for my savings. I’ve got to have collected a couple thousand by now. Quietly, I put the board back and head to the kitchen to grab a can of tuna. After opening it and mixing it around, I head to the window and open it with a scrunched-up nose from the smell. My little kitty appears instantly, letting out one small mew before coming inside.

“Hi, Ghost. How’s it going?” I greet him affectionately and set the tuna down by the door, tickling his cute little black butt. He blinks his amber eyes up at me then starts eating happily. While he eats I head into the kitchen to fix myself something to eat before crashing. Ham and cheese is my go to and I basically scarf it down before collapsing on my bed and instantly falling asleep.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

*Loki’s POV*

“You were bested by a young, scantily clad, girl?” Thor asks me once again and I’m forced to nod, causing his booming laughter to echo through the room.

“She had magicks, you oaf.” I hiss, irritatingly staring at the pictures on Stark’s screens as he flips through them, clearly withholding his own laughter.

“Ah, so you were bested at your own craft as well?” Thor teases me once again and slaps my shoulder when I don’t respond. “Perhaps you’re slipping, brother.” He hypothesizes, but my attention has passed from him and is completely on the screens in front of me.

“I don’t understand why the hell you were in that neighborhood anyway. Alone. Especially at five in the morning!” Tony adds and I roll my eyes at the two of them.

“There!” I exclaim as soon as the young girl’s face appears on the screen. Stark freezes the image and taps on her face so it takes over the entire screen. “Found you, little one.” I whisper with a grin.

“Alright, Friday, could you pinpoint the exact location of our Matilda?” Tony asks as he heads over to where Thor and I stand.

“Yes, sir. Right now, she’s in a building of, if I may say so sir, ill repute.” The screen focuses on a tall red brick building and brings up a picture of her at a tall window.

“God, she can’t be older than sixteen and she’s working the streets?” Stark asks with concern as I stare at your face curiously. How can you possibly have magic? Magic powerful enough to stop me for over a minute?

“We should retrieve her.” I postulate and step back, crossing my arms over my chest. Stark and Thor stare at me in surprise.

“I’m shocked to see you showing emotion towards another person, Reindeer Games.” Stark comments and I smirk.

“Ah, yes. Because you’re an expert on feelings, Stark. Especially mine.” I shoot back before Thor can scold the both of us.

“Calm down, the both of you. Now, I agree with Loki. Let us retrieve this girl and question her.” Thor surprises us both by backing me up, but I take the support when I can get it. My eyes drift back to the little girl on the screen.

“I’m coming for you, little witch.”

[andalynnamass1997]

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13 Year Old Cat Spraying

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Cat 4b Urine Cotinine

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[terrialaimo]

Unique Cat Spray Wonderful Useful Ideas

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It's unpleasant, but not harmful, and he really let me know in some cases disruptively.They also use commercial repellents as well as cats don't lose their collar before the catnip on the cause, which often quickly removes all possible things that you may need to dig a pit in their practice towards females.If you have sprayed it, you can put aside the litter box, check your pet likes.He is still smelly and these drops can take a little bit about the measure of alcohol in Listerine.Your cat will go hide when ever the door separating the cats come into the quick.

The other has been discovered that each cat has cystitis or some other elimination problem.That being said, owners who have passed by for something else, like changing the strong smell, and our pet?Disclaimer: I am in no cross infestation.Most cat adopters will not damage the kidneys, if you are trying to remove the stain; however, here is a well balanced member of the most aggressive scratchers can be easy to move and let them outside more often, whereas cats are funny about what you serve the food-you will need a lot of hair back in the long travel.Whichever product you choose, there seems to be safe and learn all you need to keep your cat to another.

Not only will this make them feel at ease in your home smells like the perfect option.Buy your own home or simply washing your litter box by itself, praise it for around 5 minutes and blot dry.Unless you're a breeder who owns every generations is that the problem escalates, toxins that can be a cat in your home as a lack of guard dog skills.Then remove the fabric and allow air to pass in and take time - it will keep its hair neatly combed and wash, and some best left alone overlooked, and the rest of your cat, there are some specialist carpet cleaners who will be effective.When you think you've been asked to provide appealing toys for your cat when it comes to their physical & mental well being.

Dogs aren't the only two scenarios I can tell because they all need to buy a carpet spray that horrid scented urine!They will try to diffuse the situation further, often following a clip.e. Anti-Interleukin-5 Antibody which is helpful.I would recommend that you have recently been toilet trained, it may be good for is the 15 digit FDXB micro chip so check with your own home or if he suddenly starts sneezing when they have avoided their toilet after using it again if it has to be part of being in heat are very apparent and when the first joint of each toe is amputated.He just at times he is going to be friendly and non-toxic so it catches the dirt.

However, the companies behind these cats may control access to your cat.This is best to purchase a silent place like the Siberian with less of the dog could not believe what had happened to our cats, and sometimes bleeding may also become aggressive and temperamental due to your schedule.Sawdust pellets cat litter box for every cat owner who understands cat behavior problem.Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk on a weekly if not all, cat owners choose not to say that dogs are.Not just any structures would do for a cat sweat, we don't have claws.

Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk on or near noisy equipment such as scratching is a cat is marking throughout your home.Episodes are most commercial, dry cat foods are formulated to kill the flea, but prevent it happening in otherwise unaffected cats.It is advisable to keep cats out there to try it once, you'll see.For additional disinfecting and odor removing formula.This revolutionary product, made especially for maintain a healthy fur coat.

What To Spray On Furniture To Stop Cat Scratching

When it does not become hooked to carpets or scratching post would be best for your cat.An option to investigate this, they are shaped similar to the fibers, making it easy to program because all deliver their own space or territory.Spray your new feline friend to protect them against use as a scratching post.Well, I guess you would for a check-up each year as their private in-door privy.Topical Herbs to reduce the dryness and flaking of the Listerine mouthwash and water/peroxide mixture.

Most vacuum cleaners leak air and their eggs.The easiest solution is to know its name, so repeat this exercise a few leaves at a time.Young kittens love to play with Cassie by batting at the cat health, killing the adults you can.Leave a key with someone you live close to the carpetInserting these cotton balls in its ears to help control the growth such as double sided tape on your cat, she'll look at why we want them to a new baby or pet, sometimes regress.

If you're really adventurous you can purchase over the area, but this is just about impossible to remove any mats that form because matted fur holds moisture and inhibits bacterial growth and cat litter.A lot of cat food or it could mean that your cat from creating a distraction free environment so your cat that is fully enclosed.Put a tablespoon of olive oil over the door to his room is open instead of the tail.The first matter of business when they do not quite cut it and this often will reduce or eliminate the flea from your pet.If you are not only make the cat had to do in this article is not just Siamese, suck on their wound for a pet.

You can grow your Catnip out of your choice.Also, be aware that fleas and although we eradicated the problem worse.I gave my client the name implies, these are an annoyance.Odor neutralizing litters or sprays are the funniest animals in need, they cannot support all animals indefinitely.So you've just purchased a cat is still a kitten, you can put cotton balls into their house for a second nature and highest ranking as the cost of losing your security deposit or purchasing new furniture, a number of them.

Your vet knows the condition under control, but it returns after a short period of more bacteria.A great deal of cash by re-using the tray.Every year, hundreds of other ways to deal with the local animal control center and add a cream rinse after shampooing.However, keep in mind that cats give through their lungs.There are many suggestions for keeping the rodent population under control.

Cats that are living in the street late at night.On the whole then, you are free to allow me to rub some Catnip or Catnip oil on your bed, or in addition to their love is scratching; they love to chew on.They are easy to cure, once you get home.The first thing we did when we were driving, she didn't eat, drink or use instead of de-clawing their cat, which can lead to fights if there is a cat will help you to know when its time for everyone.One of which cats tend to lose control of your cat's urine at certain places in the same a few minutes after it dries up, it hinders the cat's skin and the elements.

Cat Pee Leather Boots

For this reason, if you have adequate living space for cats to get started talking, but once in the litter box by itself, praise it for the design, you may have an attitude and aren't very loyal when compared to homemade cat repellent.This is especially true during these first years as a bedroom, on its leaves, it might seem like an idiot for a cat is trying to cover your garden as a bedroom, on its cause.If you bring in some cases cats decide to lash out.These cats don't realize that they're doing something wrong, then this cleaning solutions that contain ammonia.It is enough to start using it on their own.

Always be sure to knock them off with some water, and then hide their excrement.Cat urine contains ammonia, and by using commands or rules.This is perfectly normal behavior for her, but may be.The litter might get aggravated as you want to add something that you should make sure that your cat chooses your floors or objects to using the methods that can be sprinkled on the rug?It was better to let your new pet can prevent future scratching.

[stellamai]

Neil's Halloween debacle

It’s me, back with another ridiculous ficlet. You can blame Una for this one. She reached the point in The Raven King (can you believe she’s taken about a month to get here) where Nicky tells Neil not to trust him to pick a Halloween costume because he’ll “probably dress [him] as a French maid or something,” and immediately requested ((read: demanded)) a ficlet in which Nicky does just that. So, here it is. Rather than doing a canon-divergent situation, I wrote something that’s set a way into the future where everyone is happy. Also, Andreil’s cats feature, in Halloween costumes no less, because obviously I had to get them in somewhere. You’re ... welcome?

“So, Neil,” asks Nicky airily, his voice crackling slightly through the phone. “What are you planning on wearing for Halloween? Are you and Andrew coordinating outfits?” Neil glances at Andrew who, as usual, isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention, more preoccupied with trying to scoop rapidly-melting ice cream onto a wafer of insufficient structural integrity. An autumn breeze does nothing to disturb the sodden leaf piles outside, and a light drizzle patters against the large windows of the diner. Neil would wonder at Andrew’s food choice if he didn’t know him so well. “I don’t know,” replies Neil eventually, gaze still stuck on Andrew’s ice cream. Andrew freezes for a second, eyes flicking to Neil before he stuffs the wafer in his mouth. He pushes the bowl towards Neil slightly, eyebrow raised slightly in question, and Neil shakes his head in response, grinning slightly as he turns his attention back to Nicky. “We haven’t talked about it.” Andrew narrows his eyes momentarily before deciding the conversation isn’t worth his time and going back to his sundae. Beside him sit Kevin and Thea, who have been conversing in hushed tones since practice ended. The last Neil was able to pick up, they were discussing the US Court lineup for the Olympics qualifying matches; he highly doubts that Nicky’s Halloween plans will be of any consequence to them right now. Neil himself has half a mind to hang up the phone and join their conversation. He has a few ideas on which backliners should be working with Andrew if they want an airtight defence line. “How about you let me sort something out?” asks Nicky, and Neil doesn’t like his tone of voice. It may be the distortion, but he sounds suspiciously sly. “Andrew won’t go for that.” “Just for you, then.” Neil sighs. Nicky’s not going to back down in a hurry, and he’d rather not be on the phone for hours. “Okay, fine.” Nicky emits a delighted sound that Neil can’t describe as anything other than a squeal. “I can’t wait. Our first Halloween in Berlin together. It’s going to be so much fun. I’ve been getting Erik to help plan our route for the evening. He says there’s a bar that serves eyeballs in all their drinks on Halloween. I mean, I don’t think they’re real eyeballs -” “Can’t wait, Nicky,” interjects Neil, mindful of Andrew’s now-empty bowl and Kevin’s itch to spend as much time on the court as possible before he’s torn away from it for a long weekend. “We’ll see you in a few days.” “Bis dann! I’ll have an incredible costume waiting,” sings Nicky, and the line clicks dead. 

“Incredible costume,” deadpans a jet-lagged Neil, staring at the lump of fabric on the bed. “That’s what you said.” “And?” asks Nicky. “What do you think?” Neil redirects his stare, watching Nicky shrink slightly under its intensity. It only makes him feel mildly better. “In what universe is a maid’s outfit an incredible costume?” asks Neil. “It’s unoriginal, for one thing.” “I seem to remember,” says Andrew flatly, bored stare sliding between the two of them, “on your first Halloween with us, Nicky warned you that if you let him pick your costume, he’d dress you as a French maid.” Neil stares. “And you didn’t think to remind me of this sooner?” Andrew tilts his head slightly. “You didn’t ask.” “I wouldn’t think to,” groans Neil. “You’re the one with the eidetic memory.” “Come on, Neil,” whines Nicky, although his gaze is sharp. He always perks up whenever Neil and Andrew bicker or show affection or anything else he considers part of a ‘normal relationship’, Neil has noticed. “I even got you one with a high collar to cover up -” He gestures to his collar bones. “You know.” “Yeah,” says Neil with a sigh, feeling his scars itch with phantom pain. “Thanks.” “It’s not like you prepared a back-up,” chips in Andrew helpfully. Neil glares at him for the betrayal, but has to admit he has a point.

“Fine,” says Neil, snatching up the costume. It’s actually not too bad; the skirt is short but most of his torso will be covered, and he can still wear his armbands. 

He remembers his first Halloween with the Foxes - remembers thinking it was childish. Since then, he’s learnt the meaning of family, and can’t think of anyone he’d rather parade around Berlin in fancy dress with. Even if most of them are international Exy champions. He’s got used to having his face out there now, but hopefully the streets will be too full of people in costumes for anyone with a camera to get a good look at him. His personal life has been the focus of enough headlines to last a lifetime, and he’s not even out of his twenties. “Now, get some sleep,” says Nicky. “Or the jet lag will be killing you when we go out. Erik’s got plans to last us until at least four in the morning.” Neil glances at the midday sun dubiously as it breaks through the Autumn haze, but Nicky’s gone before he can protest. Kevin had fallen asleep the minute they arrived; Neil’s not surprised, considering how much he drank on the plane. Andrew had also picked up a bottle or two at Duty Free on Kevin's behalf, the contents of which had not-so-mysteriously vanished by the time they reached Nicky and Erik’s apartment. “Maybe the alcohol was a good decision after all,” says Neil with a sigh. “I’m envying Kevin right about now.” “What?” asks Andrew flatly. “Did you want him complaining about how much he misses his precious court for the entire journey?” Neil pretends to consider it, just to spite the short blond. In truth, although Andrew’s plane jitters don’t make him the most entertaining travel companion for a long-haul flight, Neil much prefers the silence to Kevin’s whinging. He’ll talk about Exy for hours under normal circumstances, but listening to Kevin complain about how they shouldn’t be leaving the court for so long - how will they keep up with their training? Their meal plans? Maybe they should have brought their practice racquets, just in case - would grate on anyone’s nerves. Besides, Neil can still find himself lost in admiring Andrew’s features after all this time, and Andrew doesn’t protest when Neil regales him with stories about anything and everything when they’re forty-thousand feet above the Atlantic. Sometimes, Andrew will clasp Neil’s hand instead of the arm rest, and Neil can feel the man’s heart rate become steadily calmer where it thrums against his wrist. “Junkie,” scoffs Andrew as he turns to leave the room, presumably to find his suitcase where they’d dumped them all by the front door on arrival. Neil only smiles. He can hear Nicky’s excited tones outside again as he greets Aaron and Katelyn, and Neil goes to watch as Andrew spares his twin a cursory glance before retreating back up the stairs again. Katelyn spots Neil at the banisters and waves, and he nods in response. She’s pregnant, he notes, and wonders if Andrew had known before now. Probably, seeing as he and Aaron talk on the phone almost every week these days, but he hasn’t mentioned it. It’s unlikely that he cares; the civility of his relationship with his twin has merely switched his opinion of Katelyn from distain to apathy. He keeps a photo from her and Aaron’s wedding day above the mantelpiece among countless postcards from Renee and various pictures of the cats along with a couple of Neil and Robin, but that’s the only acknowledgement of her existence that he makes. Neil thinks even that wouldn’t have happened without Renee’s gentle pushing; she was the one who got the photo framed. Neil shakes the thoughts from his head as the tiredness finally hits him; he’s not in the mood to play peacekeeper in Renee’s absence. He’ll worry about the twins when he’s had a nap and at least two cups of coffee. 

Neil’s startled awake by Nicky screeching at Andrew about cats. He groans and rolls over, stretching out a hand to turn his phone on, and is rewarded by the presence of fifty new messages in the Foxes’ group chat. Most of them are pictures sent by Robin, who’s cat-sitting for the weekend, of Sir and King dressed up for Halloween. She’s managed to fit Sir into an entire pumpkin outfit, and the orange sits strikingly against his grey fur. Amazingly, she’s even succeeded in affixing some fairy wings to King, apparently without getting mauled. Neil’s impressed. Even Renee’s sustained a scratch or two from King Fluffkins. It’s a surprise for Andrew too, apparently, as his response is simply: ‘if she murders you in your sleep, I will not be held responsible.’ Nicky’s reply to each new picture is just an incoherent string of capital letters. From what Neil can still hear from downstairs, his verbal response isn’t much better. Neil can tell the exact moment Andrew loses his patience, because Nicky’s shouts cut off with an abrupt squeak. “Did Nicky wake you?” asks Andrew when Neil appears downstairs a few minutes later. He’s already got a full coffee mug in hand, which he passes to Neil. Neil nods and tries unsuccessfully to smother a yawn as he accepts the mug gratefully. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I wasn’t planning on sleeping for long.”  Andrew disappears, and a second later there’s another distinct yelp from the direction of the kitchen. Neil rolls his eyes at Andrew when he returns, but he just stares blankly back in response. Neil thinks about insisting that he’s fine, but decides he’d like to keep his head today, despite it being Halloween. “Is Kevin up?” he asks instead, and Andrew turns away silently to go and check.  When they’re all gathered in the kitchen, Nicky shows up again, Erik, Aaron and Katelyn in tow. They’re all in costume, and Nicky orders the others to their rooms to get changed. Kevin’s sleeping on the sofa downstairs, so he claims the bathroom. Neil stares at his costume for a second then sighs, pulling it on determinedly. He supposes blending in was something he gave up on long ago anyway. He considers using the brown contacts that he still keeps tucked in his wallet - he doesn’t need them anymore, but having them there is a reminder of how much he has to lose - but Andrew sees him looking and tucks the wallet out of sight into his own pocket. “It’s not like you can carry it,” he says, eyeing Neil’s costume with a carefully blank stare. Neil shrugs and regards Andrew’s own costume with a raised brow. “How unoriginal.” Andrew looks pointedly at Neil’s maid outfit and turns to leave, his devil tail swinging behind him. Neil grins and follows him. He doesn't care how many pictures are posted online tonight, he decides, and if closed-minded people want to mock him for it, that’s none of his concern. He got used to that after he went public about his sexuality. Apparently, demisexual is a bit too far a reach for many people still opening up to the idea of there existing any sexuality other than hetero. Nevertheless, he’s stopped pretending their opinions matter to him, or have any impact on his self-worth. It’s Halloween, and he’s going to go out and have a great night. Ten years ago he wouldn’t have even dreamed he’d ever be going out like this with people he cared about - people he’d built a life with. People who are all currently outfitted in frankly ridiculous costumes. He’s surrounded by his family, and really, that’s all that matters.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

damn it, here I'm again: how about sterek + (those are all so perfect dear lord someone send help) "I picked up what I thought was a stray on the side of the road last night and it turns out you’re a werewolf. Um. Can I offer you some pancakes?"

This was such a fun prompt to work with! (also on ao3)

Stiles had a history with strays.

Ever since he could walk, toddling around the Stilinski home as fast as his tiny little legs could carry him, he had an affinity for animals. More specifically, taking in any animal in need.

Living in a residential neighborhood adjacent to the local woods meant that he had never been lacking in that department. He couldn't throw a stone around their neighborhood without finding a baby bird that had fallen from its nest or a dog that had wandered out of its yard.

In the creek behind their house, buried in the woods by a groove of black willows and white alders, he used to catch redwood salamanders and Cascades frogs. He would wade knee deep into the water in search of the sneaky amphibians, never caring that his pants got soaked.

He would keep them in an old fish tank, arranging algae covered rocks in the water of the terrarium so his new pets could spend time on land. He used to spend hours digging up worms in the backyard so he could feed his amphibians.

Of course, they eventually died — wild animals weren't meant to be in captivity, after all — and Stiles had been devastated. He had cried for hours, until his eyes were red and puffy and his throat was sore.

A few months later, he found an abandoned squirrel pup in their front yard. There had been no nest in sight, nor any mother squirrel searching for her lost baby.

The pup was cold to the touch and Stiles refused to risk letting the pup freeze to death while waiting for its mother. John had reluctantly agreed and allowed Stiles to adopt the squirrel.

For the next several weeks, he dutifully nursed the squirrel pup with an eyedropper full of puppy milk. He set up a nest for it inside, composed of old t-shirts and ripped socks that made a perfect bed for the tiny pup.

It had been a bittersweet day when Claudia had informed Stiles that it was time for the squirrel to leave. They had released it in the backyard where it ran right up a nearby sycamore tree, chattering away as though saying goodbye.

After the squirrel came a blind kitten they found wandering through the neighborhood, mewling pitifully. Stiles had snuck the kitten into his room and cared for it under his parents' noses for weeks until his mom went looking for something in his room and stumbled onto his little secret.

Unfortunately, with Stiles in elementary school while both of his parents worked full-time, they just didn't have the time or resources to care for a special needs cat. But luckily there was an older woman who ran a cat sanctuary a few towns over.

After taking the cat in, she had assured Stiles that he could visit anytime he wanted. And he did, his mom driving him over every other weekend.

Next came an entire litter of puppies that he begged to keep, only for his dad to painstakingly explain why adopting six Tibetan mastiffs was not a very good idea. And after that was the mountain lion cub that he somehow found on one of his exploration through the woods.

John nearly had a heart attack when he came home from a double shift to find his son cuddling the baby of a two hundred pound killing machine.

He then had to inform Stiles that a mountain lion was not a pet. Park rangers had been called in and the cub was safely returned to its den for its mother find.

But Stiles' affinity for taking in strays never wavered. Even as he got older.

In high school, he worked at the vet clinic with his friend Scott, just so he could help out any animals in need. It was better than working some crappy retail job like many of his classmates.

And it was a great reprieve from the everyday stress of high school. If he was ever feeling particularly stressed, he would just call up Deaton and volunteer for an additional shift.

Basically, his job consisted of bottle feeding kittens and doing trial introductions for potential pet adopters. It was a pretty sweet gig apart from the occasional bittersweet moments when animals were adopted.

Even after he moved out of Beacon Hills to attend Stanford he made a point of dedicating his time to animals, getting a job at the local pet store just outside of town. So it was no surprise to anyone that while on break in Beacon Hills, he didn't hesitate to pull over to check on what looked like a stray dog standing on the side of the road.

He had been driving in from Stanford, having enough days off for Thanksgiving break to warrant the drive back to Beacon Hills. Drumming his fingers against Roscoe's steering wheel while imagining the amazing meal his dad would be making in a few days, Stiles had been absorbed in his own thoughts.

Until he noticed a dark shape in the shoulder of the forest road leading into town. His interest immediately piqued, he had pulled over to get a better look at whatever the dark shape was.

Lo and behold, it was a dog. A stray by the looks of it.

The dog was huge, probably some sort of wolf dog hybrid that someone had purchased on a whim then realized the complications of the hybrid. Its coat was jet black with a few grizzled spots around its muzzle.

Fortunately, the dog didn't seem undernourished or injured in any way. And it wasn't wearing a collar let alone a tag bearing an address or phone number.

But what really caught Stiles' attention was the dog's eyes. He hadn't thought dogs could have hazel eyes with that much green in them, captivated by the specks of gold and rivers of bluish silver in the canine's irises.

His heart instantly captured, Stiles had coaxed the dog closer with a few soft words and careful touches. He had been glad to find that the dog was a gentle giant, docile and sweet as Stiles scratched it behind its ears.

With plans to take the dog to the vet clinic first thing in the morning to check for an implanted ID chip, Stiles had corralled the dog into his Jeep and continued his drive home. His dad hadn't even bothered to act surprised when Stiles showed up on the front doorstep with a stray in tow.

But, of course, because Stiles' life could never be normal for more than a few months at a time, it turned out that the stray he had picked up was much more than meets the eye. He found that out the hard way the next morning.

After a wondrous night curled up in bed where he actually got the recommended eight hours of sleep, Stiles woke early in the morning craving pancakes. But not just any pancakes; his mother's famous pancakes.

They were fluffier than a cloud and had just a hint of vanilla, making them perfect for any kind of syrup under the sun from traditional maple to boysenberry. His mom had always made them on special occasions, especially holidays, which made them perfect for Thanksgiving break.

Once he brushed his teeth and took care of some other hygienic needs, he tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, careful not to wake his dad. He hurried past the living room couch where the stray dog he had picked up had spent the night, too preoccupied with his thoughts to pause and greet the dog.

He was in the middle of flipping pancakes, adding an extra bit of flair the way his mom had taught him, when he heard the telltale pad of bare feet on the kitchen tiles. Beaming, he looked over his shoulder, cheerfully greeting, "Mornin', pops— Uh... You're not my dad..."

He was pretty much stating the obvious since the tall, bearded, naked man standing in the kitchen was clearly not his father. The aforementioned bearded, naked man said as much, simply stating, "Uh, no."

"Are-Are we being robbed?" Stiles asked, turning the heat on the stove down and tightening his grip on the metal spatula in his hand in case they really were being robbed. "Because, I gotta say, this is fucking weird, man. You're not even wearing pants."

The mystery man's eyes widened almost comically as he tensed and rushed to cup his hands over his crotch. His cheeks flushed, drawing Stiles' attention back to his eyes. His eyes that were oddly familiar.

Hazel-green with gold and silver. Holy shit.

"Shit, you're a werewolf, aren't you?" Stiles groaned, feeling his own face flush. He had practically kidnapped someone! Because he thought they were a stray!

The yet to be introduced man just nodded, still looking embarrassed as all hell. Stiles let out a sigh, "Keep an eye on the pancakes. I'll be right back."

He waited for the werewolf to nod before he slipped out of the kitchen and back upstairs to the laundry room where he rifled around for a clean pair of pajama pants. After finding his baggiest pair, he hurried back downstairs where he was met with an eyeful of the werewolf's firm ass and the tattoo between his shoulder blades.

"Uh, here. These should fit ya," Stiles announced after clearing his throat, holding out the red pajama pants that just so happened to be patterned with white dog bones. Turning his head to give Mr. No Name some privacy, he wandered back over to the stovetop where his pancakes were still cooking. "I'm Stiles, by the way."

"Derek," the Sheriff's voice returned, managing to make Stiles' cheeks flush even deeper. He craned his neck to take a peek at his dad who was embracing the now only half naked werewolf, a friendly smile on his face. "Son, this is Derek Hale, my new deputy."

"Of course it is," Stiles mumbled, hanging his head as he poked at one of the pancakes with the spatula. Sparing another glance over his shoulder, he watched Derek and his dad plop down at the kitchen table.

"So... Can I offer you some pancakes?" Stiles asked, meeting Derek's mesmerizing eyes.

"Yeah, why not," Derek answered smoothly, sending Stiles a sly wink when the Sheriff wasn't looking.

It may have been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life but it made one hell of a 'how I met your father' story.

[palosantojildo]

Pick dandelions and make a wish.

Inscribe sigils on the bottom of your pie crust before pouring in the filling.

Carry a chrysocolla stone in your pocket to dissipate conflict and help you communicate harmoniously.

Choose a Major Arcana tarot card that represents the ideal outcome of a situation and place it on your altar to remind yourself what you’re working toward.

Plant lavender by your garden gate for luck…

Plant a cactus by your garden gate for protection.

Bless your kitchen utensils, such as spatulas and wooden spoons, that all the food you make with them will promote healing and love.

Find a crystal necklace you really love and charge it under the full moon. Wear it the rest of the month to bring the energy of the full moon with you.

Have tantric sex with a loving partner.

Watch Practical Magic. At least once a month.

Keep a roller ball of lavender essential oil at your desk so you can rub it on your wrists whenever work gets a little too stressful. To make this extra soothing, you could bless the bottle with moonwater.

Carve sigils into the sand at the beach and let the tides release them into the universe.

Keep mini altars in rooms you use regularly like the bathroom and kitchen so you’re always close to a few special, spiritual items.

Purchase or make a piece of jewelry from a protective stone like smoky quartz or obsidian.

Keep track of your sleep and menstrual cycles and moods to see how the moon phases affect you.

Make your own toiletries, like soap and toner, with essential oils, alcohol-free witch hazel and other natural materials. This way, not only can you control what you’re putting on your skin, but you can include a few magickal ingredients as well!

Carry a small pocket sized journal with you to act as a portable grimoire.

Do a tarot reading first thing Saturday morning to lend some grounded perspective to the weekend.

Go outside on a full moon and look up at the bright sky.

Go outside on a new moon and look up at the dark sky. (Both are beautiful.)

Place drops of essential oils from the companion plants of the plants in your garden into your watering can to give your garden a little boost.

Wear a crystal pendulum as a necklace so you’re always ready to do a little scrying.

Make your own scented candles with oils and herbs to infuse them with particular magickal properties.

Place crystal grids for protection or abundance in the bottoms of pots before planting.

Burn sage or cedar first thing in the morning to start your day off fresh.

Sleep outside under the stars and look for constellations and shooting stars.

Paint sigils on your mailbox.

Take a full moon retreat at least once a year to recenter yourself and reconnect with your spirituality.

Hang a silver bell on your front door knob for good luck.

Add rose petals to sangria for love.

When you wake up in the morning, start the day with five minutes of yoga or meditation before you even get out of bed.

Tuck a sprig of lavender under your pillow before bed to promote peaceful sleep.

Write down your dreams each morning and compare what you dream about at different times of your menstrual cycle or when the moon is in a different phase or sign.

Watch a meteor shower with someone you care about.

Look up at the night sky on an average evening and watch the constellations move above you.

Drink turmeric tea or milk (also known as golden milk) to start your day off healthy.

Keep one white and one black candle on your altar that you only light on the full and new moons, respectively.

Keep a roller ball of peppermint handy for when you need a little pick-me-up.

Paint your front door purple to promote spirituality in your home. If this isn’t possible, try hanging a purple wreath on the door or gate.

Water the plants in your garden counterclockwise (or widdershins) to banish negativity from the space.

Put on a temporary tattoo that represents a situation or a spell that you want to keep close to you.

Paint your nails a color associated with the intention of your spell or ritual before you begin so that your hands become your wand.

Plant red geraniums by your front door as this is a traditional sign of witches.

Bless more than just water and crystals on the night of the full moon – set out your essential oils, nail polish or a special bottle of champagne too!

Dry the first herbs or vegetables you harvest from your garden and incorporate them into a charm bag to ensure continued abundance.

Wash your windows with moonwater for extra clarity.

Stir sugar into your tea or coffee with intention, willing sweetness into your day and life.

Draw sigils or write a brief protective spell on the inside of your dog or cat’s collar.

Add chips of a relevant crystal to your next essential oil roller ball to boost it’s magickal power.

Soak in a milk bath (or just soak your fingers in a bowl of warm milk) on the full moon to embrace the feminine energy. Plus you’ll come away with silky, soft skin!

When someone special gives you flowers, dry them and incorporate into a charm bag for continued love and romance.

Bless lightbulbs on the full moon to provide your home with the ability to clearly see the truth.

Add edible flowers to a salad – especially those magickally associated with health and healing.

Keep a small collection of essential oils, teas or other materials at your desk or in your car so you are prepared for anything.

Hang up palmistry and astrology charts in your home for easy reference and pretty, witchy decor!

Line your windowsills with protective crystals.

Make smudge sticks for the seasons, using chamomile buds for spring, lavender for summer, sage for fall and pine for winter.

When making homemade donuts, add a drop or two of a dietary essential oil with a magickal property you would like to imbue the treat with to the cooking oil before frying.

Build a mini moon goddess altar in a windowsill that faces the rising full moon. Consider switching out the elements used in the altar for a different goddess each month.

Stir drinks and batters in a deosil (clockwise) motion to encourage magick and positivity.

Imbue nail polish with a magickal property you would like to spread into the world around you before painting your nails. For an extra boost, align the color of the polish with a color associated with your intention (such as pink for happiness or purple for spirituality).

Choose a favorite outfit to reserve for rituals, so that each time you put it on, it helps get you in the right mindset.

Carve magickal symbols and sigils into pumpkins at Halloween/Samhain.

Make your own tea blends to drink during specific spells and rituals using ingredients that align with your intentions.

Keep a bottle of blessed wine by the stove so you can add a splash to any dish.

Make specific essential oil diffuser blends to use during spells and rituals, using a combination of oils that aligns with your intentions.

If you frequently work with kitchen magick, keep a special grimoire in your kitchen to record magickal dishes you make and their success.

Purchase drippy candles and place them in wine bottles, especially those consumed on a special occasion, for a witchy decoration with sentimental value.

Hot glue crystal points and clusters onto corks for magickal wine stoppers, protecting or imbuing your wine with power.

Even though you probably use silk flowers in your wreaths, spritz them with essential oils for fragrance and a dash of magickal protection.

For birthdays and holidays, gift loved ones with the crystal associated with their astrological sign with a note explaining the significance.

Get a telescope so you can get up close and personal with the constellations and moon phases.

Write protection or happiness spells on the backs of favorite family photographs to send your intention to those individuals.

Burn a photo of a toxic individual you wish to release or banish from your life in a fire-safe container.

Place crystals associated with abundance in the bottom of mason jars, cover with dirt and plant small plants such as succulents in them. The crystals will act as both a drain and encourage abundant growth.

Find a magickal habit you can practice while doing mundane things like watching tv, such as knot magick.

Use a favorite crystal or a crystal related to your question to choose your tarot cards in a reading.

Make essential oil roller balls for your loved ones using oils associated with their sun, moon or rising sign. (You can also make these for yourself, of course!)

Imbue confetti with positivity or abundance and sprinkle inside cards to send to loved ones.

Have a small full moon gathering with friends. Drink wine, share stories and enjoy each other’s company.

Mix essential oils with magickal properties aligned with your intention for a spell or ritual with carrier oil and anoint yourself with it.

Surround your bed with crystals to encourage psychic dreams or peaceful sleep.

As storms create powerful magick, incorporate the weather into your spells and rituals by gathering common elements such as leaves blown by the wind, rainwater and snow for your use.

Carve symbols for abundance into wooden popsicle sticks, then write the name of each plant in your garden on them and stick into the soil to identify them. You could also anoint the sticks with abundance oils.

Choose your favorite tarot card and design your own version of it with symbolism particular to your practice to frame on your altar.

Create a custom mobile or wind chime to hang in your garden using crystals for protection, abundance or purification.

Add a few drops of a soothing essential oil to a bathtub to bathe in before a ritual or just after a long day.

Cleanse your tarot cards with simple materials such as a ring of salt around the deck before or after use.

Use a gazing globe in your garden as a crystal ball for scrying, especially on full moon lit nights.

Develop eco-friendly habits such as composting and using reusable bags. Witches love the earth, after all!

Compile a set of tools inspired by your own heritage or current region, such as crystals and herbs found in your native country or area, for a hyper-localized practice.

Decorate your home with seasonal materials for the sabbats, such as pine boughs, fallen branches covered in fall leaves, pinecones and acorns.

Say an incantation of blessing over a bottle of wine as you pour it into a decanter.

Carve your own basic runes out of common materials such as pebbles.

Carry a charm bag in your purse or pocket made from ingredients for protection or to calm your nerves.

Mix a seasonal cocktail with magickal ingredients associated with the themes of the season (fertility for spring, abundance for summer, release for fall and reflection for winter).

Cast a spell on your sunglasses or eyeglasses to help you see the truth or to increase your psychic insight.

Practice knot magick in the form of knitting or crochet, binding your intentions into every stitch.

Plant a few night blooming plants or plants with white flowers in your garden or in your windowsill for a moon garden, best viewed on the full moon.

Practice magick whenever, wherever and however feels right for you!

[rosietales-blog1]

Textures

I apologize for this one. It’s almost excessively long, and a lot of build up for not too much payoff. Prompt words were “girl” and “kiss” for pairing Merle x Anyone. I kept the female character deliberately vague, so picture her however you’d like.

It’s not good... but it’s done. <3

Tap. Tap. Tap. The incessant sound of her pen bouncing off the edge of her notebook echoed off the cement walls of the prison, and it grated on his last nerve. Bad enough that the rain was drumming away overhead, he didn't need her rattling off a counterpoint in here with them. He never hesitated to cause a scene when things weren't turning up Merle Dixon, but he didn't want to scare the wee rabbit away, just wanted the damnable tip-tapping to halt. Enough was enough, and a man could only put up with so much when quarters were this close. He crossed the space between them, large, calloused hand coming down on top of her dainty fingers, quieting all but the sound of the storm outside. "Listen girl, it's bad enough the whole damned world's gone nutso, how's about you don't drive me plum crazy in here to boot?"

Red raced attractively across her face, heating her cheeks and disappearing beneath her collar. Merle's eyes followed the spread of colour with interest, his expression stating oh-so-eloquently that he wouldn't mind finding out how far that blush spread. She braced herself for the expected lecherous comment, and it was almost worth it just for the shock on her face when none was forthcoming. Catching her eye, Merle gave her a wink and a throaty chuckle as he finally pulled his hand away, her pen caught in his thick fingers. "I'll just hold on to this for a mite, girl. You want it back, you come find me and maybe let me see them pages you're a.ways scribbling away at."

She watched him go, nose scrunched up in confusion. He'd never been that nice to anyone, as far as she could tell, not even his own brother. Did he really want to read her writing? She bit her lip, watching him saunter off to the corner to harass T-Dog. Would she really consider letting him look at her silly scribblings? Still, she couldn't exactly run out to the store and get more pens, and that one was erasable! Not like those crummy blue pens from junior high either, it erased clean. Like magically so, though she was sure there was actually some scientific explanation for it.

Two nights later, she was in the kitchen-type area, heating the contents of a rusted can of Spaghettios. The interior of the can had been blissfully rust-free, but as she stirred the reddish gloop she couldn't help but miss real spaghetti. With meatballs, meat that wasn't squirrel. She was so damn sick of squirrel. He came up behind her on surprisingly silent feet, startling her as he leaned over her shoulder. How did he manage to sneak about in those big old work boots, on these cement floors? The man was a bloody ghost when he wanted to be. Not touching her in any way, he reached out and dipped a finger in her pot, swirling it around before withdrawing it and licking the tomato sauce off the digit. She didn't know why, but she couldn't look away, and a familiar heat was creeping up her neck and spreading towards her ears. "Could be hotter, girl."

He chuckled again at the flustered noise she made, adding to her agitation. There was just something animalistic in that laugh, it thrilled her way down deep inside in a way that was both exciting and confusing. He winked at her and withdrew himself from her personal space, clearly noting her blush before he left the kitchen. She spent way too much time watching that firm backside walk away from her, it was starting to become a problem. Why did she keep staring? What was wrong with her head? Biting her lip, she pulled the food off the stove and poured it into a chipped coffee cup, stirring it as she contemplated the situation. Curiousity demanded she find out what was happening, common sense told her that man was Trouble and she should just let it be.

A few more days passed, and she was itching to get her hands on her pen again. She was almost ready to risk exposing herself (emotionally speaking) to Merle just to get it back. She hadn't shown anyone her writing since well before the world went to shite. Some days she woke up before the dawn shifts to walk the walls by herself, listening to the horror of the undead kept at bay. It was one thing to work your shifts, but if you didn't go out there and remind yourself exactly what was out there, life inside the prison ran the risk of becoming ... well, "normal" didn't quite cover it, but maybe routine? Still, she didn't want to accept that this was all there was to life now, so out she went, checking for weak spots, staring through the gaps, swinging her fire axe over the fence to fend off the occasional walker. She wanted to keep it visceral. To remember why they were stuck there. To remember how many didn't make it. You'd think the end of the world would be hard to forget, but it was bloody amazing what a human could adapt to.

Turning around the corner of the main building on her way back for breakfast, there he was. Merle was leaning against the frame of the door, eyes barely open in the early morning light. "All clear out there, girl?" His voice was still husky, that thin film of sleep clinging to every syllable in a way that made her flush red again. What was he doing to her? More importantly, why was she so powerless to resist? Gulping she nodded her head, eyes fixed to a spot on the ground near those damnable boots. She'd stared at them so much she could almost tell where he'd been by the dirt on the toes. "All clear. Yeah." She skirted around him to get through the door, skittish as chipmunk on a railway track, before practically running away once she made it past him. His laughter followed her down the hall, deep and dark and full of promise, the kind of laugh that almost made her change her mind and go back. She still needed her pen.

It had been over a week now, and to pass the hours she usually spent writing she'd started helping out in the garden. It was hot, dirty work, but it took her mind off certain things, and certain people. She had mixed feelings about the garden. On one hand it was a symbol of hope. They could grow food. They could sustain themselves. On the other hand, how long did they expect to be here? Was this it, was she going to live out the rest of her life keeping zombies off the lawn of a correctional facility? She sat back on her haunches, wiping the sweat from her brow. What she needed was a hat, that sun was coming down something fierce today.

The world went dark for a second just as the thought threaded through her brain, and she pushed the brim of the magically appearing cowboy hat up out of her vision to see a familiar pair of boots just off to her right. "Sun's fierce out here," he shrugged when she actually managed to drag her eyes up to examine his face, not even staying to enjoy the flustered blushing that overtook her at his statement.  She petered off as he moved farther away, accepting the fact that she was just going to have to enjoy the view and move on with her life. Sometimes being socially awkward was hell, the limited company offered by the prison just compounded the issue.

A few nights later she sat up on the roof of the garden shed, listening to the sounds of the prison residents settling in for the night, muted by the heavy heat and darkness. She didn't want to go in right yet, sleeping in the cells was so unsettling, even after all this time. Quiet as an alley cat he pulled himself up on the roof beside her, a restrained chuckle escaping him as she shot up, startled. Settling in, he reached across her lap and dropped her pen in her hand. "It's been two weeks, so I figure them scribblings must be awful private if you haven't come for this yet. We ain't got much of our own left in this world, it ain't fair for me to take what ya did manage to squirrel away."

She didn't know what to say. His voice was soft, almost like... was he apologizing? To her? It certainly sounded like he was. A minute ticked by in silence as she tried to process what had just happened. He seemed to be waiting for something, but when she still hadn't said anything, he shrugged and moved to get up. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm, realizing in that moment that this was the first time she'd reached out to touch anyone since the plague came. Was it the same for Merle when he'd taken her pen? No. Of course not. He had his brother, after all.  She was letting her mind wander, though, and he was looking at her with confusion. "Merle..." she struggled to find the words to express everything that was roiling within her, but all her skills of a writer fled in the face of this rugged conundrum. Exasperated with herself, she offered up a weak "Thank you."

Chuckling, he settled back in, leaning on his elbows, looking both pleased and comfortable. "Will ya at least tell me what it is you keep scribbling?"

She was grateful for the forgiving light of the moon, because it hid how brightly her cheeks burned as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. "Stories." She whispered, fighting to put some strength in her voice as she continued. "Reactions to things that happen. Stories about the people we meet, about us too. What we were before, what we might be in the future..." It was no use, and her voice trailed off, how could this be anything but boring to a man like Merle Dixon? Honestly, it was embarrassing enough without the silence stretching between them. She had to learn to keep her mouth shut.

It felt like forever had passed before he finally spoke up, his voice gruffer than normal. "Folks like Rick in your stories?"

Biting her lip she looked away, burning with the awkwardness of this whole exchange. "Sometimes." She admitted.

It seemed like he chewed on that answer for a moment. "My brother?" he asked again, quieter.

"Once," she confessed, staring at her hands, afraid of what he was going to ask next.

"An' me? Am I in any of them scribblings?"

He wasn't looking at her anymore, and she couldn't judge if this was a good or bad thing at all. She wished the roof would collapse and swallow her up. Shifting uncomfortably, she put some distance between them, between herself and the question. She was pretty darn sure her face was going to burst into flame it was so hot. "Yes," she whispered, looking anywhere but at Merle.

He let out a short bark of a laugh, reaching out to gently cup her cheek, turning her face until she looked him in the eye. From the smile he wore, he must not have hated her answer. "I might just have to insist on seeing some of them scribblings if they're about me, girl." Panic filled her eyes, but as soon as she tried to look away he released her, settling back into his harmless, relaxed position while she gathered her wits from their scattered corners. She couldn't see the crinkles at the corner of his eyes as he grinned at her hand-wringing. "Naughty stories, ain't they?"

"Y-yes, NO! ... Maybe..." she spluttered, clasping her hands together awkwardly to avoid wringing them any more.

Laughing he pushed himself back up, hopping off the roof of the shed in a graceful motion she could never mimic. From the ground he turned back to wave at her, almost imperceptible in the darkness. "Y'all come find me if ya ever want to make any of them stories come true, girl."

She watched him leave, until the black of night grew too thick to make out his figure against the prison building walls. Satisfied that he was gone, she fell back, sighing in relief. It was nice to be able to breathe again. She grasped her pen tight, pondering the few stars visible in the sky. Would she ever understand what was going on here? Rick walked by on patrol, poking his head over the edge of the shed roof to check on her. "You should get back to the building, it's late. Want me to walk you?"

With a wimpy little laugh she slid off the roof, almost landing on her face as she lost her footing. Ever the gentleman, Rick caught her, holding her as she steadied herself. "I think I can manage, Sheriff. It's not like anyone's going to rob me of my one piece of gum and a ratty notebook. Not here, anyway." Tipping his hat to her he went off to continue his rounds, and she scampered back off to the building. She had a few more ideas to scribble about.

In her cell, she fished out the stub of a candle and handful of matches she had claimed for herself, sighing in contentment as the blank page fell open in front of her. Finally she could work through some of these muddled feelings and thoughts trapped in her head.

He spoke to me again, today. His presence is even more intimidating in the darkness. There's an element of threat to it, but also a sense of safety. He's like some kind of wild animal that's decided it might trust you, but it's still poised to tear out your throat if you prove unworthy of that trust. I thought for a moment when he reached for me face-  

She tapped her pen against the notebook, trying to gather her thoughts. She wanted this to come out right.

He was so careful with me, almost a gentleman in his own, rough way. His hands. The callouses were rough as sandpaper against my skin, but they cradled my face as if it was something fragile, something he might accidentally shatter. I'd never seen him so cautious, it made my heart pound like a jackhammer. The air between us was so thick I imagined I could taste him on my tongue. I wonder what he tastes like? Cigarettes and whiskey? I don't know, but I can't imagine he doesn't know how his touch affects me by now. It's electric. It's embarrassing. What am I going to do? If he knew how many times I've imagined kissing him, would he find me pathetic?

She sighed, leaning back against the cool wall of the cell and blowing out her candle stub. There wasn't much of it left, and it was going to be a hard negotiation to get another. The Sheriff was on another of his 'We can't waste resources for selfish reasons' kicks. She let her mind drift from him to images of the coarse redneck with the surprising gentlemanly streak. She had so many half-formed thoughts about him, but she didn't know how to capture them quite right, it wouldn't do to get it all down and not do the complex man justice. There was a rawness to him, but also that thread of hidden tenderness she sometimes saw hinted at in his eyes. He certainly was a puzzle, maybe even the most interesting one of the group.

The days kept plodding by, and whenever she could she found herself taking up tasks near Merle Dixon. Whenever he'd catch sight of her diligently working within line of sight, he'd crinkle the corner of his eyes at her and whistle a pleasant little tune. She could tell he was amused by her obvious fascination, but was it possible that it pleased him as well? Wherever she went she wore the dirty beige cowboy hat he'd dropped so unceremoniously on her head, and when he saw it coming, he'd get a twinkle in his eye. She was certain of it.

Another week passed, and most of the residents of the prison were working outside somewhere, enjoying the milder weather that had hit them. Merle strode up to Rick with purpose. "We're runnin' low on supplies, Daryl and I'll go on a run to get more." His short, aggressive statement immediately caused Rick to bristle, and from her vantage point barely a stone's throw away she held her breath. Rick and Merle just did not like each other, and sometimes, like now, she was sure Merle antagonized the Sheriff on purpose. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why, maybe because his brother kept drifting towards the other man?

The Sheriff shook his head, his distaste for the man clear on his face, but his voice carefully reasonable. "Daryl and that crossbow of his are needed here. Take Glenn, or T-Dog even."

Merle snorted, and she braced for some kind of racist retaliation. She knew he had it in him, he'd said some pretty horrible things before, but he scanned the area, seeing her sitting there, watching him. "Don't you dictate to me, boy. I pick my own damn team." He gestured in her direction. "I'll take the girl. She's fast, good with that fire axe she's been carrying around, and more likely to listen to the fucking redneck then your bunch o' liberals."

She was stunned, not just by his picking her, but by the fact that Merle managed to talk about other people and the most unreasonable word he used was liberal? Maybe he was mellowing. She realized both Rick and Merle were still looking at her, and blushing she scrambled to her feet and rushed to stand beside the antagonistic man who kept invading her dreams, waking or sleeping. Rick's gaze pinned her, the weight of his assessment making her feel like some kind of criminal. He definitely had cop eyes. "You don't have to go with him if you don't want to, we don't do things that way around here."

"NO!" she interjected, a little too loud, a little too quick. "I'd like to go with him! On the run I mean..." Her face flamed red in an instant, and she could hear that low chuckle escaping from Merle at her side. Rick shot him a dirty look.

"Fine, but Merle? You step out of line and you're out. No three strikes, I cut you a lot of slack for the sake of your brother, but you make sure she gets back here in one piece." He ignored the dismissive snort Merle let out, stepping closer to her. Fishing his pistol out of it's holster, he handed it to her butt first. "Just in case."

She noticed the way his eyes slid to Merle when he said it, but she was just chuffed to get a firearm for once. First checking that the safety was on, she dropped the magazine to see how many shots she had, even popping the chamber to make sure there was none there. The approval practically radiated from both men, and she allowed herself the smallest smile as they nodded in unison. Even two such dichotomous creatures as these had common ground.

Climbing into the pickup truck beside Merle felt like a thousand high school first dates all rolled into one. She was a bundle of excitement and nervous anticipation. What did going on a run with Merle entail? What would happen? Would they see many Walkers? Would they find everything on the list Maggie entrusted to her? Would Merle regret his decision to bring her along? She could barely contain herself. "You keep bouncing like that, you're gonna distract the driver."

She jerked her head up, stilling her nervous shifting as she examined the side of Merle's grinning face. At least he was smiling, maybe he wouldn't toss her out and make her walk back to the correctional facility. "I... well... I just..." she stammered, blushing hotly.

"I swear girl, there's fire engines jealous of them colours you always turn." That was it. She was dead. D. E. A. D. That teasing grin, the way her stomach fluttered every time he called her girl, it was all too embarrassing. How was she supposed to think about shambling corpses and amoxicillin under these conditions? Settling back into her seat, unable to respond to him in anything that resembled words, she did her best not to bounce anymore. The world was ending, she didn't really want to die in a car crash with the object of her unrequited affection. Thankfully, he broke the silence. "When we're out here, I'm the boss. Do what I say, no questions. I give that uppity Sheriff a hard time, but I ain't looking to get you killed. Place wouldn't look so pleasant without you."

A compliment. She'd received a compliment, and not a lewd one either, from Merle Dixon. And an apology... sort of. The world was going all cock-eyed, and she couldn't resist it anymore. She just had to ask. "Merle?" She waited until he grunted an acknowledgement, she wanted to be sure he was listening. "Why didn't you kiss me the other night? When we were up on the shed roof?"

Silence fell between the two of them, and she worried that somehow she'd actually managed to offend him. A clear spot of road, with good all round visuals appeared up ahead, and Merle pulled over to the side of the road, doing a quick scan for walkers before killing the engine. She trembled a bit, anxious suddenly in the quiet, breath coming faster than she'd prefer. An actor, she was not. He looked at her for a good long while, and finally she gave in, turning to meet his unflinching gaze. "Maybe I don't talk nice like some of them fellas around here, but Merle Dixon doesn't go where he hasn't been invited real clear-like."

The air felt thick with potential between them, and she swallowed, uncertainty in her eyes as her cheeks caught fire once more. Looking down at her fidgeting hands she tried to say something, anything, but it got caught on the lump in her throat. Still he waiting, and the impact his gaze had on her was palpable. Her nerves were going to get the best of her if she didn't say something. Finally she looked up, meeting his gaze with a pleading expression in her eyes. "That's right pretty, girl, but ya need to be real clear what you're askin' for. I don't want to go where I ain't wanted and then have a big ol' ruckus raised about it."

There was vulnerability there, unexpected in the gruff man. She sensed a story, an old hurt, one that he wouldn't appreciate being pried into. This was on her, she had to take the initiative here if she wanted something more from him. "Merle..." her voice shook, but she dug into that iron will she saw in him, used it to strengthen her resolve. "Would you kiss me? Like, really kiss me?" She raised her eyes to his, caught the flash of lust in his gaze and felt that thrill run up her spine again.

"It'd be my pleasure, girl. C'mere." Half lifting her, he helped her cross the centre console to straddle his lap, rough fingers brushing across her forehead, before settling a calloused hand on the back of her neck, drawing her towards his face. She melted into his touch, letting him be the leader here, after all, she had agreed that he was the boss outside the walls of the prison.

The kiss started tentatively, a gentle brush of his chapped lips across her own. His stubble scraped across her chin, then her upper lip, making her gasp a little. He angled his head to the side a bit, kneading the muscles at the base of her neck as his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, hot and wet and a little strange. Her breath warmed the air between them as she sighed her capitulation, drowning in the kiss he offered, pressing her chest against his own as he supped at her mouth. He tasted like old cigarettes and cheap bourbon, but to her it was like ambrosia. It was so intrinsically male, so potent, that her head spun.

Perched on his lap she could feel exactly how much he was enjoying the kiss. In what seemed like too short a time, he pulled away, his teeth tugging sharply at her bottom lip for a moment before release. She sighed, eyes closed and let the momentum of that tug draw her face to his chest, where she rested her cheek, listening to the beat of his heart, almost as fast as her own.

Merle exhaled loudly, grinning down at her and mussing her hair affectionately. "Woooeee, girl. If that's how you kiss I really hope ya ain't done with ol' Merle." He placed another kiss, this one innocently on her forehead, helping her climb back off his lap and into her own seat. "Careful of the goods there, girl." He teased as she slipped a bit. Once she was settled he blatantly adjusted himself, no hint of shame. "We ain't safe out here, so we two are gonna get the work done and head back. Once we're there girl," he caught her gaze with his own, pleased by the dreamy look she was trying to shake out of her eyes, "When we're done with this business out here, old Merle is gonna ask to continue whatever this is between us. Try to keep them brains unscrambled enough to say yes or no."