#like mom.....its still a wild animal with a nasty bite. just not the one that's guaranteed to break bones w the bite

[erythristicbones]

Helped a friend cross the road safely today C: it's a Florida Softshell Turtle!

[silly-jellyghoty]

As some of you following this mess of a blog may have noticed, I'm getting myself a puppy. Actualy, it's more of a late birthday present from my parents, but the point stays the same - soon, there's going to be a small furry creature by my side and since it will be my responsibility to raise and care about it, instead of surprising me with an actual fluff ball out of the blue, mom and dad let me chose the pup on my own.

Naturally, at some point it became a topic between my coleagues and me during work break yesterday, which is a reason why I am writing this long post right now (sorry but not sorry). I want to talk about this, because some of things about dog raising said people mentioned made me stare at them in disbelief while other made me hopelessly sad and angry. Me. A normal person. Someone who never studied dog psychology or kynology or training methods in any serious way other than reading a few books and stuff on net out of curiosity. I probably can't even imagine what an expert would think about all that nasty stuff I heard from them!

So let me tell you one thing - common people (the ones I talked to at least), even those who currently own a dog or owned one in past, have prety much ZERO IDEA and also ZERO WILL TO LEARN about how to chose the right dog and how to rise it properly! Their whole thinking process when it comes to dogs can be sumarised into - wild puppy appears. Puppy uses cute eyes. It's supereffective. Puppy is now theirs. They put it on a leash or chain. They feed it once a day and get angry when it barks and destroys things. The end.

Like... excuse me?!

In this essay I will...

But seriously. If you think about getting yourself a dog but have no idea how to go around it or you know of someone in such situation who needs a bit of an advice, in this post I will give you all a few tips about chosing process I learned both from getting our previous family dogs and by googling around for hours (not kidding, I've been excessively searching for informations ever since that birthday gift puppy talk I had with my parents).

I hope that this post may help you with chosing just the right dog for you. Or at least it may give you some ideas about which questions to ask yourself and what to look for and think about before you bring a new puppy to your home.

And no, I don't mean questions such as "how big of a dog do I want" or "what and how much does it eat" or "do I have time to take it for a walk everyday" or "should I get a female or male, neutered or not" etc. I believe that you already asked yourself those and you know your answers or have at least some vague idea about what your future dog should or shouldn't be like.

What you probably DIDN'T think to ask yourself or your family members (those guys I talked to before definitely didn't from what I understood) can be put into following categories:

- possible genetic defects and predispositions to hereditary deseases associated with specific dog breeds

- common or seasonal illnesses and health risks associated with dogs body type

- comfortable temperature range for the dog

- intelligence, trainability, temperament etc

- hair and skin care, shedding, grooming difficulty

- background and personal history of specific dog

So let's start with the least funny topic of those and that is INBORN DEFECTS AND HEREDITARY DESEASES

To understand why they are such an issue, especialy in relatively young or modern, recently fixed breeds which origins can be tracked down to just a small number of dogs, you have to realize that the natural form of a dog is a wolf. Size may differ and so can fur lenght, quality and colour, but the shape stays more or less the same - long slim legs with well defined fingers, long wrinkless nose, long slim neck, relatively small standing ears, solid muscular body fully covered in fur. Examples of dog breeds with similar traits include but are not limited to german or belgian shepperds, russian laika and all basic schpitz types of dogs starting with tiny pomeranian and ending with eskimo dog. The less of those traits you find in a dog the more prone to hereditary deseases the said dog breed is for one simple reason - selective breeding.

Older breeds have somewhat of an advantage. They developed over longer time from possibly hundreds maybe thousands of original dogs with different atributes. Mountain breeds turned to be thick coated because short haired dogs simply died during winter. People in areas with a lot of rodents and weasles preffered dogs of smaller sizes to hunt them down. Whether they were terrier, pinch or dachshund shaped, people didn't care as long as rats were gone.

As such, old breeds draw from richer starting genetic pool with less strict breeding oversight in early breed forming stage (this may have changed later and turn towards inbreeding tendencies but it's not a rule) which makes expression of hereditary deseases less likely (this still doesn't mean they have zero, mind you). For the same reason, dog mixes comming from different backgrounds such as half breeds or multiple breeds bastards are, generally speaking, healthier than pure breeds. More genes to draw from means lesser chance of two faulty alellas of same gene meeting in the same animal and expressing itself as a physical flaw or degeneration.

Compared to that, as an example, after a serie of genetic tests on modern pug population in UK, whole breed was tracked back to only aproximately 50 original ancestors. Basicaly, this means that if you compare two dogs whose closest common relative was their grangrangranmother 5 generations ago, chances are that, geneticaly speaking, they are still an equivalent to first cousins because the whole population is just so much inbred.

By this I don't mean to say that you shouldn't get a pug puppy and that pugs are the root of all evil just because of their past of inbreeding. What I'm saying is that before you bring your new pug home, you should do some research about breed's hereditary health issues and predispositions for such and ask yourself - are you prepared for an option that at some point your beloved pet may need an expensive eye surgery? Are you sure you have enough money to pay vet for threating dogs breathing difficulties, allergies and infections connected to its deformed snout (because let's speak openly, dog breeding, especialy when it comes to decorative and companion breeds, is all about active propagations of deformations for the sake of aesthetics, health issues be damned), possibly for a bigger part of their life? Are you prepared to take care of them in case they become partialy paralized due to hip joints deformation in older age?

If your answers are yes, then sure, get yourself a pug. Or bullterrier. Or cavalier king charles spaniel or any similarly inbred dog. If not, then chose a different breed with less potential for inborn defects. Keep in mind that just because the dog meets its breeds standards it doesn't mean those standards are 100% healthy to begin with. Even if the dog is fine right now, it doesn't have to stay that way forever. Use google. Do the math. And take your time chosing.

Next set of questions you should ask and find answers to is about health too, but this time they have less to do with genetics and more to do with BODY TYPE, SIZE AND SHAPE.

A quick overview:

Gigantic breeds tend to have problems with joints and bones, they also have shorter lifespans (french mastif, great dane and irish wolfhund live for only about 7 years. For a comparission, the oldest documented dog is lhasa apso. It lived fir 29 years).

Wrinkled breeds and breeds with excesive skin on head and around mouth or neck have higher risk of getting exema, yeast infection or mites in their skin folds. Combine it with long fur and you can count on antibiotics and/or antiseptic shampoo or powder prety much every rainy season. To add to this, shar-pei are also prone to skin overgrowth where folds may reach such a size that they obscure dogs sight and have to be removed by basicaly dog face lifting surgery. Accidental lip bites and mouth infections are also a thing when it comes to breeds with a lot of skin. Oh, and if such infection lasts for a long time or repeats often there's a high chance of dogs teeth getting infected and falling out as a result. So yeah.

Dogs with long or floppy ears can have a huge problems too. If combined with long fur of spaniel breeds for example, be prepared for seasonal ear infections and exema due to high temperature and humidity which has nowhere to go because of all that hair (we had american cockerspaniel and when she turned 8 she became fully deaf because of this despite my family treating her ears with cleaning drops and antibiotic solutions daily). And don't even get me started about grass seeds stuck in auditory canal. We had to see veterinarian to take those out at least once a week every summer. Also, there will be pieces of food stuck to hair and prepare for puddles of water around the bowl every time they drink too. Fun stuff.

Combine long ears with short legs of basset hounds for example and you get a lot of scratched and accidentaly pierced earlobes by their own claws when they run around and trip over them. It happens more often than you think.

Also about grass seeds and those hard thistle hooks, stabbed between fingers or paw pads, it's prety much impossible to spot them by eye on long haired breeds and you have to search for them by masaging between fingers and pads with your fingers daily during grass and thistle season. If you see a dog biting and licking it's paw, it's either stuck rock, long fur tangled into hard dirty fur ball that needs to be cut off from between its fingers or grass seed.

The list continues. Consider yourself warned.

Another set of questions you should ask is about TEMPERATURE RANGE in your area and is basicaly just about using your common sense.

No matter how charming you find them, for the sake of the dog's well being, please, don't get yourself an alaskan malamute if you live in Florida. And don't expect hungarian vizsla to survive winter in Rocky mountains sleeping outside in dog house either. Use that brain of yours a bit, I'm begging you! (One of my coworkers doesn't understand that dalmatian is NOT a dog suited for living outside whole year around, especialy in those -23°C night drops we get in february. Like excuse me? Poor creature doesn't have the undercoat for that kind of weather!)

INTELLIGENCE AND TEMPERAMENT

This part is easy. Ask yourself what kind of dog you want to own. Flegmatic feet warmer? The one you can take for a jog with you every morning? Agile fast learner for active fun such as freesbee or dog dancing? Childs nanny with a lot of patience around toddlers? A house guardian?

Some breeds are good for more than one thing, some are bred with specific personality in mind. For example - you can't turn border collie into your slow granma's lap warmer she can brush every day for hours, there's shih tzu for that, among other. But what you CAN do with a collie is to have it trained to pick said grandma's fallen walking stick, to bring her ringing phone or to bark if she forgets to turn off gas in kitchen. Remember - there's many many breeds with many different personalities and talents to chose from. Take your time picking.

Also, the saying that dog copies its owner is true. Even one of the calmest breeds - labrador retriever - can turn into a vicious biting beast if raised in disfunctional household. And with a patience and kind treatment, czechoslovakian wolfdogs can be as sweet as sugar.

However, one can't go against dogs predominant behavioral patterns, only along them. Jack russell terriers will be fast and easily excited whether you like it or not. Just because they are trained it doesn't mean they also magicaly lose their natural temperament. Remember that if you chose to get yourself a rat hunter you get yourself a rat speed, agility and seemingly endless energy. And since having a bored dog means having a destructive dog, imagine multiplying that destructive potencial with dogs activity and intelligence level. You don't like where this is going? Your dog, your problem. Chose the breed wisely.

If you still don't have any idea where to start, there's a cheat sheet in form of Stanley Coren's Dog intelligence chart. Naturally, higher on scale - easier to train. Check it out, guys. It may give you some interesting breed choices to consider.

Another category of questions you should answer to yourself before getting a dog is HAIR AND GROOMING related.

Dogs shed. Some all the time, some only once or twice per year. Some hair, despite being short and supposedly easy to care for while on dog in question, is a bitch to get out of clothes and carpets. Meanwhile other hair is so light and silky it floats around if you only as much as think about it, but if let untreatef there's a small dog worth of it everywhere all the time.

There are also exotic fur type options such as komondor or puli dog with natural dreadlocks or hairless xolo from Mexico.

Depending on your choice be prepared to spend anything from one week of seasonal blowout for akita inu or malamut to daily brush of lhasa apso. Either you make the time for grooming it yourself or you pay for it in dog saloon but one way or another, the hair is there and something has to be done about it. Again - your dog, your choice. Just be sure you know what you are getting into. Use that damned google or ask other dog owners about their grooming routine.

Another thing to keep in mind when it comes to fur is whether or not you can get your dog wet. Some breeds with thick fur may take too long to dry on their own which may result in pneumonia in cold weather or yeast infection, mites and exemas in hot temperatures. Don't bath those kinds of dogs unless it's realy necessary and be prepared to invest into dog rain coat and right grooming tools. Or, have them buzzed regularly.

But then again, WHY in the hell would you get yourself a long haired breed if you cut its beautiful mane to 5mm nonsense every month?! I've seen this done to ALL yorkshire and west white terriers in my town without exception. Like... what the hell? If you guys want a small terrier but you are too lazy to brush that long fur regularly then just get yourself border or jack russel terriers to begin with! I mean, the whole point of having a yorkie or westie is the trademark long fur goddamnit!

Oh and about cool fur (I almost forgot to mention this) there's rhodesian ridgeback whose back hair grows the other way! Check it out!

The last of important things you should consider before bringing a new dog home is its BACKGROUND AND PERSONAL HISTORY of the dog

This is especialy important if you are getting an adult dog or a dog from shelter.

Just as humans have their habits and past traumas, dogs have their own too. Aside from obvious problems connected to initial changes of dogs environment and/or lifestyle after transfer, dogs with the past of abuse may pull you into a whole lot of difficult situations.

They may be unusualy agresive or shy or scaredy or whatever compared to other dogs of the same breed (or multiple breeds if they are mixed) or they may act perfectly normal until triggered by something specific and behave in unexpected way when distressed.

We had such a problem with our retriever x boxer x german shepperd mix when she first came to us. She was all nice and friendly untill anyone, be it a family member or stranger, picked up a stick or rod. She had an abusive first owner who used to beat her using those, we think, and so sticks and other long slim items held in one hand turned into her stress trigger. My family was lucky that her first reaction was to flee and hide and as she grew to trust us the issue faded accordingly till it fully disappeared, but different dogs may act differently. Keep that in mind if you get yourself a rescuee.

Dogs which struggled with hunger in past tend to turn into glutons and may develop obesity and associated deseases if you don't keep their food intake in check. Those which came from households of alcoholics may react agresively to smell of alcoholic drinks. If the dog was tortured by nasty brats, it may attack children on sight. Et cetera et cetera.

So if you decided to get yourself a "second hand" pet, find out as much about that dogs past as possible. Hope for the best but be prepared for the worst advice has never been more true than when it comes to dogs comming from shelters.

Thank you for comming to my TED talk and feel free to add your own experiences and opinions

[skywailer]

How Stars Are Born

Peeta and Katniss soulmate ficlet + angst to the max, requested by anon

They used to say the stars were sweet and giving.  That the stars loved watching humanity’s happiness so much that they kissed every soul before birth, marking their skin with the exact count of Earth days it’d take to meet their soulmate; a kind promise for a blissful future.  They even used to say, if you smiled at the stars, you might just flatter one into telling you a secret.  That a smile could win you the greatest prize of all: the whispered name of your soulmate.

Katniss isn’t one for smiling, no one cares about soulmates, and the stars don’t whisper anymore.  They scream.

They scream and they claw revenge on human souls for what they’ve done to the universe; for killing their brothers and sisters - their lovers in pursuit of greed.  For over a hundred years, Earth’s population has clambered to the top of the ladder, hands reaching for the stars and choking them- converting their wild, bright spirits into the broken, dull shape of weapons and power plants.  And for that, Earth has paid in ways it couldn’t fathom.  

For every star burned, its age is taken from the lives of humans; billions of years in debt etched into the wrists of every life.  A blissful future torn asunder.  A universal trade agreement no one signed off on, but must follow all the same.

Today, Katniss is twelve years old.  She sits in class, pencil limp on her desk as the cosmos uses its own imaginary quill on her wrist.  She watches the numbers scratch themselves onto her skin: 4381.

4381 Earth rotations.  4381 beautiful sunsets.  4381 hunts with Gale.  4381 goodnights to Prim.  4381 days until she must pay her debt to the stars.

Katniss has always excelled in mathematics, even if she isn’t paying attention to her teacher at the moment.  She knows she’ll be dead one day after her twenty-fourth birthday.

It’s shorter than some, longer than most of her class.  Long enough, she tries to tell herself.

Only one person in the room notices Katniss’s shaking fingers when she raises her hand to be excused.  Only he notices the numbers red and cruel on her pulse.

Peeta Mellark watches Katniss leave the classroom, back rigid, proper, and braids perfectly in place.  From the clenched knuckles, he knows her grasp on control will hold long enough to get her to the bathroom.

He raises his hand to be excused, too.

They say the stars are still kind and forgiving, just grieving over broken hearts.  They say if you hold someone’s hand, and wish it so, you can trade the days of your life for someone else’s.  That this is the stars’ lingering love for humanity.  Their final, bittersweet kiss.

It’s a cruel, cosmic joke.

Katniss gives her days to Prim.

She does it while Prim sleeps; her sister’s eyes flaring red and puffy, cheeks smudged and marked from crying into her pillow.  

She does it because she’s fucking angry, that’s why.  She’s quiet and seething, a churning lightening storm on the horizon, wanting to strike down on Earth even if her rage is made manifest in the heavens.  

What did she ever do to those stars anyway?  Her and Prim’s room is dark and dusty, small and poor, insignificant -like their family in the grand scheme of this nasty world.  Like her father was the day his numbers faded in a mine avalanche, a failed attempt to dig -not reach- for energy.  Everyone knew coal had long been pillaged and gone from Earth’s womb, long before suits and countries decided to look to space, not ground, for the answers.  Yet her father had tried, every day until only 1 day was left scratched on his wrist.  Yet the world’s debt was still asked from him.  And now they were asking it of Prim.

Today, Prim is twelve years old.  

Katniss holds her hand as she sleeps, finally, after wasting her birthday in absolute fear of certainty.  The certainty of that number on her dainty, pale wrist- the small, childish wrist Katniss steered through crowded streets as they walked home every day- the soft, agile wrist made for moving needles like their nurse mother- the wrist that was sprained only a month prior when Prim had gone running after her stupid, belligerent cat-

21.

21 sunrises.  21 “good morning” smiles.  21 braids, and bringing broken flowers home to frame, and falling asleep on the sofa while Katniss read to her, and soft hugs and sweet laughs and happiness and-

Katniss’s clasp on Prim tightens, her fingers nearly digging in between those little, light knuckles.  She demands the stars give her this one thing.  This one, damn thing.

2917 days is what Katniss has left.  It’ll have to do, even if it would never be long enough for her sister.  It would never be long enough for this soul.  Primrose’s soul is kind, where Katniss’s is apathetic.  Her sister is sweet and helpful to strangers, she mistrusting and cold.  Soft to hard.  Giving to taking.  Worthy to worthless.  Selfless savior to selfish survivor.  The world is filled with people like Katniss, and not enough wonders like Prim.  She thinks, maybe, the stars still love and long for people like Prim.  Maybe, with more like her, they would have never burned so hot with hatred and cruelty.  Maybe, they would see she was worth more days.  Worth all the days.  

Maybe they knew this, and were just as selfish as she, and wanted to have Prim as their own.

Katniss tells the stars to fuck off, and gives her days to Prim.

When she steps outside to breathe in the first of her last 21 nights, there is a boy.  She spots the back of him slumped on the foot of their doorstep, his blonde hair somehow softer than Prim’s in the moonlight, but his hands much rougher- wrists wider and able to bear more weight.  He’s wringing them.  He’s nervous.

He’s familiar.

Usually, Katniss keeps to herself.  She barely talks to anyone outside of her sister and Gale, hardly grunts at her own mother- though her mind is always, aggressively blaring with thoughts.  With worry.

Usually, Katniss keeps to herself, but that was before she only had 21 days left to think, to talk.

When she sits down beside him, and spots the flutter of a smile on his face, she suddenly remembers his name.  Peeta Mellark, the boy with the longest life.  At least, in her town.  Though, surely, living until the ripe age of sixty was far longer than anyone could dream to hope for.

For a long time, she despised this boy without even knowing him.  But today she realizes what a curse a long life can be.

His eyes are sad when they turn to meet hers.

“Your sister, Primrose, she comes to the bakery every Saturday.  She mentioned today was her birthday, and didn’t come in, so I was worried-”

“She’s fine,” Katniss says rather curtly, defensively.  She loathes the sound of pity, but she likes the sound of his voice.  

“She’ll be fine,” Katniss adjusts and tries to be gentle, realizes with unnecessary dread that she’s just not good at it.

Peeta’s face is kind, like Prim’s, but hardened at the cheekbones.  They seem to turn to mush with her reassurance, crude as it was.  “Good,” is all he says, relief melting his broad shoulders from mountains to hills.  And Katniss is suddenly, strangely greedy to know why he cares so much, what he’s really thinking about, why he’s here.

Then there is a pastel orange box between them, firm hands placing it down with a gentleness that doesn’t compute with Katniss’s sharp senses.  The box is missing the stamp of his family’s bakery.  A birthday cake; half dark chocolate with blueberries, half butter-cake with strawberries, Katniss knows without needing to open.  It’s the same cake she’s found on her doorstep twice every year for the last four years.  She knew it was him, but never said anything.  

She’s not good with words.

But tonight she says “thank you,” though the words come out strangled and awkward.  Because it’s the last year she’ll get to taste her side of the cake.

When she reaches for the box, he doesn’t mention the sudden change on her wrist or the nail marks around that damn, miniscule number.  

Peeta says “you’re welcome” as she stands up and walks away, and Katniss watches him from behind stifling curtains.  He lingers on that lonely doorstep- as though he has so much more he wants to tell her.  When Peeta stands up, Katniss takes a pathetic step back into the shadows, ridiculously afraid and eager for him to knock on the door.  Instead, his footsteps recede into the night.  

He’s good with words.  Just not tonight.

They say stars are always born in pairs, when soulmates meet in the sky.  

A star hasn’t been born in over a century.  They just keep dying.

Prim is upset, and won’t talk to her.  Neither will Gale.  On the other hand, her mom seems to have regained some color to her cheeks, and Peeta Mellark finds excuses to be near.

Day 20 is spent in the forest, where Katniss just fits in better.  Animals don’t speak much, which makes them perfect companions.  Gale brought food over, so she finds no need to hunt, and a squirrel is more than ready to rub in her face how little it cares that she’s there.  It scurries under the bridge of her knees and makes off with a blueberry- right off the top of her cake slice.

“I thought you didn’t like to share,” a sweet breeze brushes against her right cheek and she looks up to see Peeta standing a short distance away.  He looks hesitant to approach, even though, somehow, he fits right in- more than she ever did.  She is a hunter, and her place amongst the trees is as a predator; necessary, but perhaps not always welcomed.  He, on the other hand, appears rooted to the ground like a flower; not exactly necessary, but beloved.  The soil hugs his feet, and the leaves caress him wherever they touch.

It’s obvious why the universe wants him around a little longer.

“I don’t,” she says, but it’s not as monotonous or hostile as usual; it’s nearly playful.  Peeta gets a glimpse of the girl he’d first seen when their wrists were bare and their tongues unknowing of the world’s bitterness.   He takes it as a small sliver of encouragement and sits down beside her.

She lets him take a few bites of the cake.  It is, technically, his anyway.

Day 19 starts rough, because Katniss wakes up to Prim gripping her arm.  Trying to give back what she doesn’t want, not if it means she can’t have her sister.

But Katniss is much more selfish and apparently the world is with her on this one, because the numbers remain the same on both their wrists.  Prim lives, Katniss won’t for long.

She ends up wandering aimlessly through town, and somehow ends up at the bakery.  Craving sweets.

Day 18, the bakery comes to her during lunch, that soft orange box presented with a less nervous smile than before.  He’s still a little jittery and knocks his knee before he sits across from her, but girls are staring- envious, and Katniss has never really paid much attention to Peeta Mellark’s charming and pretty school persona.  She didn’t really care to, but now her days are ticking down fast and she’s developed a curious interest.  Enough so that she talks to him more than she eats.

By the end of school, Katniss decides Peeta is sweeter than sugar and, even though she’s never had a sweet tooth before, she enjoys his company.  More than she should.

When he walks her home, Katniss realizes he enjoys her company a little too much, too.  His hand brushes against hers.  Instinct drives her to hide in the pockets of her jacket.  But it’s also instinct that makes her say “yes” when he asks:

“Can I walk with you to school tomorrow?”

He keeps asking every afternoon, and she keeps saying yes, even though they don’t converse much and even though both their days are numbered- hers drastically more so than his.  But Peeta is comfortable with her silence, seems to know where it comes from, and she enjoys listening to him tell her stories about the bakery, about classmates she doesn’t really know the names of, about himself- those stories she likes the most.  

By the end of the week, Katniss decides Peeta is a complete stranger, yet scarily familiar- damn near making her nostalgic for a home she’s pretty sure she’s never had.  

He’s a mix of shy and social butterfly; has a way with words that puts icing over Katniss’s blunt, and sometimes jagged speech; always knows what she means, even when she doesn’t say a thing.  She realizes with a little too much shock that he’s funny, and likes her own laughter when she’s around him; the blush on his cheeks shows he likes it, too.  And just as shockingly, Katniss forgets about the slimming number on her wrist when he’s around; she forgets they exist on his, too- on everyone.  They never bring it up but, even when it isn’t brought up, those numbers tend to dangle over everyone’s head like an ax- but never with him.

He is peace to her turmoil, and Katniss decides that’s what she needs most in her last days.

The last two weeks are split between Prim, Gale and Peeta.  The first two finally stop giving her the cold shoulder, realizing it’s a waste of time, and start hogging all her personal space; a part of her thinks they’re compensating for the absence of her mother- who shuts herself into her room, staring at the clock.  

The last, Peeta, doesn’t start off so clingy.  He noted how Katniss hid her hands, and takes his time to approach her.  They walk feet apart, then inches, then barely any space between them at all.  She talks more, though still not much, and only when a thought gets so bothersome she throws it out into the open.  Peeta is always there to catch it, and works with what she gives him.  She wants to give him more, and the thoughts are piling up in there with nowhere to go and so little time to ponder, but she’s afraid of overwhelming him- overwhelming herself, and then having to go before the feeling can settle.

They work with what little they have, and Peeta finds excuses to stay close by: coming over to drop off bread and dessert -Prim hastily inviting him in for dinner, joining her in the woods -even though he turns pale when she hunts, sitting by her at school and bringing her lunch, walking her to and from home, and on one occasion stumbling upon her in the dark.

It happens on Day 5, and Katniss’s heart is pounding; what the hell is bravery but a stupid tale in a dusty book?  She isn’t brave, like her sister keeps saying every night they go to bed.  She isn’t brave, and that’s why - when she woke from a nightmare of overwhelming nothing - she bolted and hid away amongst the trees.  She should’ve known this is where Peeta Mellark slept, amongst the dandelions and mother nature’s other beloveds.  

Quietly, he sits beside her, knows better than to touch her.  He waits as Katniss tries to breathe in more regularly, to still the panic into something more manageable.  He takes deep breaths himself, modeling calm for her, and she uses his pulse to steady her own.

“I’m scared,” she admits when her chest doesn’t feel like it’s tearing open, when her lungs aren’t being scorched by hellfire.  Katniss knows she didn’t have to say anything, that Peeta can feel everything she thinks- but she says it anyway, because there’s five days left and her brain is screaming.

“It doesn’t mean you aren’t brave.”

And at that moment, she laughs because there he goes- knowing.  And how is it that when he says it, she believes him?  She always believes what he says, takes comfort in his words and even the absence of them, and she’s suddenly so damn afraid of never hearing him again.  And she’s laughing so rambunctiously, her smile unhinged and wild, that she almost doesn’t hear the desperate whisper of a heartbroken star.

But she does, and it makes her smile even wider, and the tears finally break through.

Katniss lets Peeta hold her, neither making to move when a night mist comes- as though the stars were crying, too.  

Day 1 eases onto the horizon in hushed tones of pink and purple, with her mother and Prim at her bedside when she wakes.  It eases just as softly out, the sky the same color as those bakery boxes, with Peeta at her side.  They sit in those same rooted spots in the forest, watching the night sky between the veins of the tree canopy.

Even though its the stars doing this to her, punishing her for the crimes of others, Katniss can’t seem to muster any anger anymore.  She’s calm, the feeling of loss coming and going in slow waves.  She’s able to remain steady when they hit because of the boy sitting next to her.  The boy she wants very much to hold onto.

Katniss thinks back to the brush of his hand on hers, and curses herself for ever hiding away.

Abruptly, she seizes his hand, and instead of jumping away from her brashness, Peeta smiles and Katniss’s chest feels like it’s tearing open again.  Her lungs are on fire, but it’s nothing compared to where her skin touches his.

In the twilight of her days, she’s never felt quite so alive.  And so very afraid.  Of losing him.  Of dying.  Of whatever comes after.  Because they say there’s an after.

“Stay with me?”  She rushes it out, before time slips completely away from her.  She can feel that stupid number fading from her wrist even at that moment, when her blood is rushing louder than rapids in her ears, her heart pounding as if just after a chase- even when she feels most here, she can feel herself slipping over there.  And she knows he can’t stay with her over there, so as long as she’s here-

His fingers hook around hers, and the crushing strength of his hold makes her wonder if maybe she will see him over there.  If maybe-

“Always.”

Peeta’s eyes are dangerously shimmering, and flaring a sun’s goodbye.  

Katniss falls asleep listening to his heartbeat, pleasantly distracted from her own.

But when she wakes, it’s her heartbeat she hears.  

But why is she waking at all?

She can feel the grass prickling at the exposed skin of her hip, at her ankles.  There’s morning dew, and it’s light out with just a few stars peering down- almost guilty, the edges of her vision hazy, green with life, real.  Her hand is still holding someone’s-

“Peeta?”  

The desperate sound of it mimicks that whisper she’d heard five days ago.  For a second, she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her- as she nearly hadn’t heard them five days ago.

Katniss sits up on her elbow and peers down at him, the most welcomed and beautiful sight; his eyes closed and smiling like his lips, the most miniscule glisten of something wet down the sides of his cheeks- morning dew; just morning dew.  He’s sleeping, so calm and perfectly fit snug in the folds of grass that his chest doesn’t even rise- so as not to bother the peace.  Just sleeping.

“Peeta?”

Just as desperate as-

Peeta Mellark.

She shakes him then, rough- knowing he won’t mind.  Of course he won’t.  But his eyes remain closed and smiling.  So peaceful, even as tears are burning down her cheeks, fear ripping at her throat.

There’s something off about her wrist, something dark and long drawn over her pulse.

And Katniss realizes why, deep down, she always tried to keep him from holding her hand.  Why he was always there, with her.  Why she can’t bear to let him go now.

16057.

16057 sunsets to remind her of him.  16057 walks home alone.  16057 pastel orange boxes she’d never receive.  16057 chances to hold his hand she’d never get.

Peeta Mellark, the boy with the longest life - the boy whose name a star whispered into her ear - is gone.  Even when he said he’d stay, always.  So she stays with him, instead.  Until Gale comes, and even then, she doesn’t really leave.

They say stars are always born in pairs, when soulmates meet in the sky.

Today, Prim is 20 years old.  She and Katniss sit in a field of dandelions, where nearly eight years before Katniss had slept beside a boy.  The few stars that are still around are out on a clear and kind night, and they look so much gentler than they did years ago.  They are much more giving to children now, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming as two sisters say goodbye.

Katniss gives Peeta’s days to Prim.

Prim doesn’t see her sister go, not in the way she’d thought she would.  

Her eyes are to the sky, waiting as she holds her sister close even as Katniss’s strong embrace drifts and falls limp, and swears she sees two flickering lights where once there was only darkness.

Maybe what they say is true.

[anactorya]

[ficlet] Bang Bang (Dean/Donna, PG, 1.6k)

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 12 | @anactorya​ vs. @rosemoonweaver

Prompt: Balloons

Ship: Dean/Donna

Word Count: 1600

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, pre-relationship, flirting, Dean’s fear of dogs

Summary: It’s been a crappy birthday, and a supernatural incident in town ought to make it even crappier. Turns out it’s just what Donna needed.

AO3 Link: Here

“What is it with kids’ entertainers?” Donna wrinkles her nose as she surveys the mess of blood, spilled party food, and burst balloons, and tries not to think about the fifteen pre-schoolers who just watched Jolly the Clown go all Psycho on his assistant. The guy’s on his way to the hospital now. He’ll probably make it, but he’ll probably never want to look at Ronald MacDonald again.

Coming up behind her, Dean shakes his head. “Yeah, I don’t get it. I mean, there’s enough crap out there to drive most people to black magic, but these guys get to play with whoopee cushions all day. Plus all the free food.” He grabs a chunk of chocolate brownie off of one of the paper plates, then sets it back down with a comedic grimace once he realises the red stuff on top isn’t a piece of cherry.

For a moment, Donna’s selfishly glad that it’s only Dean who showed up today. Sam’s a good guy, she knows, but as far as she can tell, he isn’t much for goofing around. Sometimes you have to relax a little, keep people’s spirits up. Donna didn’t get to be Sheriff without learning that, and she’s grateful that Dean gets it, too. Today, she doesn’t want to have to shoulder the burden herself. It’s hard enough to keep smiling when the only birthday gifts she’s gotten are from her mom (the giant ’21 Today!’ button the guys down at the station gave her as a gag gift doesn’t count); when she knows she’ll be spending tonight alone with Netflix and pizza unless some new supernatural emergency demands her attention.

That last option is sounding pretty good about now.  Hunting down monsters with Jody or the Winchesters sure isn’t a picnic, but it beats the nights she’s been spending alone since—

“So, Doug taking you out someplace nice for your birthday?” Dean asks, as if he’s just read her mind.

Donna feels her smile tighten and, judging by the small frown that creases Dean’s brow, he notices it too. “He went down to Florida to stay with his mom when she got sick,” she says. “He isn’t coming back. Told me Saturday.”

Dean makes a face. “Nice timing.”

It should feel good, having her friends get pissed on her behalf, but Donna’s never really been able to get behind it. Not even with Old Doug. Doesn’t actually make her feel any better. That’s why she hasn’t told Jody yet, and it’s why she can’t help but say, “It isn’t his fault. She took a turn for the worse Friday night.”

Dean looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t, just says, “You wanna check out back? I’ll take the storeroom. Just in case there are any more of those freaky-ass balloon animals hanging around.” He shudders, and Donna grimaces in sympathy.

That seemed to be clown-guy’s original plan. Balloon animals were his thing—his clown thing, that is—and he’d found some spell that brought them temporarily to life, distracting the kids and the parents while a bright green rubber boa constrictor (which had to be the laziest balloon animal ever) wrapped itself around his assistant’s neck and tried to squeeze the life out of him. The stabbing thing had apparently been plan B.

“Sure,” Donna says. “If I’m not back in five, come find me. I am not getting murdered by one of those things.”

“Yes ma’am.” Dean gives her a mock salute, and she hangs back a moment to watch him walk toward the storeroom.

Okay, so maybe there’s another reason Donna’s glad he’s here. The charming grins, the eyes you could lose yourself in, the whole teenage-dream-grown-up-even-dreamier package? Well, she’s only human.

Not that she has any illusions. Guys like Doug—New Doug, that is—are more her speed, realistically. And even if she did have illusions, dating somebody who’s a full-time hunter would be a heck of a bad idea.

None of that means she can’t appreciate the view, though.

She lingers a second too long, and Dean glances back and catches her looking. His wink won’t let her feel bad about it, though, and she escapes out back before he can see the flush rising up her cheeks.

There’s nothing back there; just a dumpster and a stack of empty boxes. Donna takes her time checking behind the boxes and inside the dumpster, mostly to be sure there are no nasties lurking, but also to give her blush time to recede.

Only, then, five minutes pass, and Dean hasn’t come out back to check on her.

Maybe he is actually pissed, and wasn’t letting on earlier. Maybe she’s just screwed up one of the few friendships she has outside of work.

Or maybe—

She can’t imagine Dean in trouble, somehow. He talked about witches like he’d seen them a hundred times. Still, she quickens her pace as she heads back inside.

It’s quiet, and Donna’s hand goes automatically to her gun as she edges toward the storeroom. That’s when she hears the noise.

A weird, high-pitched noise, like a growl hopped up on helium. What in the world? Donna takes a deep breath, pushes open the door, and—stops.

Dean’s backed up into a corner, staring wild-eyed at a dog. A dog made out of balloons, which is also what’s giving off the weird helium-growl noise. It yaps at him a couple times, and it sounds like a chihuahua, or anyway some kind of little toy dog that belongs in a Hollywood starlet’s purse. But Dean stays frozen in the corner, looking at it like it’s about to bite his head off. Donna doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look freaked out before, and it’s so unexpected that for a second she just stares.

Then she remembers herself, and casts around for something pointy. She doesn’t want gunshots if she can avoid them, not with half the street still gawking outside the building.

The little yappy dog thing stops barking at Dean, then. It turns around and fixes its beady little eyes on Donna. Which, she has to admit, is actually pretty creepy. Plus, she’s sure they were drawn on with Sharpie earlier.

And she still doesn’t have anything to stab it with. Right about now, she really wishes she hadn’t sent the attempted murder weapon to evidence just yet.

Something catches the light, then. The enormous ’21 today’ button she’s still wearing, pinned to the front of her uniform. In her hurry to get here, she forgot to take it off.

The little dog-thing gives another yip, and Donna hastily holsters her gun, fumbling to unfasten the pin with her other hand. The dog-thing doesn’t wait around: it launches itself at her, jumping up way higher in the air than it has any right to, and hitting harder too. Before she knows it, she’s on her back on the ground, the dog-thing right up in her face. And oh, gross, is it… drooling?

There are tiny little needle-sharp teeth in its drawn-on mouth, and suddenly it doesn’t look quite so funny anymore.

She hears Dean’s footsteps, but before he can reach her, the pin finally gives way. Donna twists it upward, pushes, and there’s a bang that makes her wince and screw her eyes shut.

When she opens them again, there’s burst balloon on the ground all around her, and Dean’s offering a hand to help her to her feet. She takes it gratefully.

On the ground, the only thing left of the balloon dog is its head. It’s lifeless now, its drawn-on eyes and mouth turned back to Sharpie.

“That was pretty awesome,” Dean tells her, with a crooked smile. “Hell, you did better than me.”

“Not a fan of dogs, huh?” Donna asks, because it’s the first thing that pops into her head.

Dean grimaces. “Yeah. You could say that.” He rubs at the back of his neck, frowning faintly, and then changes the subject. “So, Stabby the Clown’s behind bars. Guess we’re done with cleanup now.”

“Yeah.” Donna feels her smile fade. “So, you heading out?”

He pauses, then gives a little shrug. “I guess so. Unless, I dunno, you want to grab a bite after you’re done with work? Celebrate a job well done?”

It’s a pity thing. It has to be. He knows she’s alone on her birthday, and he’s doing what any friend would do. Donna tells herself that as sternly as she can, but she can’t help the little flip that her stomach does before she smiles and says, “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be super.”

Dean grins, actually looking a little relieved, but before she has time to wonder at it, the storeroom door swings open again. It’s Stevie, the new guy: Doug’s replacement.

“Everything okay, Sheriff?” he asks. “Thought I heard something.”

Donna smiles, maybe a little too brightly for the question. “Everything’s just fine.”

 It’s not a date. It’s not a date, and it would be a bad idea if it was.

Donna keeps telling herself that, even as she fixes her hair and opts for a kinda-nice blouse instead of the jeans and sweater she’d normally wear to go get a burger with a friend. She tells herself that even as she digs a lipstick out of the bottom of her makeup bag—a bold shade of pink, more than she’d usually dare to wear, and barely touched since her friend Mira persuaded her to buy it last month.

She’s still telling herself that when Dean rings the doorbell, dead on time. It’s only when he lifts his eyebrows and says, “Looking good,” in a tone of undisguised admiration, and hands her a gas-station bouquet with the head of a yappy little balloon dog stuck in the middle, that she stops.

And maybe, she thinks—maybe, this is going to be an okay birthday after all.

[unoriginaltoast]

Drabble: Metal and Ice

Fandom: FMA

Pairings: None

Characters: Edward Elric, Olivier Armstrong, Briggs Doctor

Summary: Edward gets caught out in the cold, the Ice Queen begrudgingly saves him. 

A/N: I literally read one stupid line on tumblr about how Ed has a lot of ‘moms’ except for General Armstrong and how could Armstrong show mom-like kindness? and I was all “Holy shit I got this!” Forgive me, I’ve never written Olivier before. Also not my best work, I literally wrote this and threw it up here so... enjoy!

The only thing Edward Elric could think about as he climbed the snow covered mountain was that he was absolutely, one hundred percent, going to move south. His arms were tightly wrapped around him as his hands grasped his coat. Supposedly, the coat was supposed to be one of the warmest out there, made specifically for the men of Briggs who had to brave the cold every day of their lives. However, as the wind nipped his bones, Ed felt lied to and wished he had something warmer.

After leaving Briggs, the giant military base straddling the border of Amestris and Drachma, the boy Alchemist vowed never to return. But, Mustang needed more information from General Armstrong, the formidable leader of Briggs, and sent Edward to get it. Alphonse was back in Central with Mei reading up on how best to defeat the Homunculi and so it was just the older Elric brother out against the cold. It was supposed to be summer, and the path was much clearer than it had been when he first marched up the mountain, but the weather still sucked and it was cold, and he was going to give Mustang an earful when he got back!

He marched for what seemed like hours before a strong wind kicked up and blew snow all around his face. His braid was almost certainly undone, though he didn’t know when that had happened. He just knew it was untied from the loose strands of golden blonde hair whipping his face. How long had he been walking? Why wasn’t he at the fort yet? Even with this snow, he should be able to see the tall, grey mass rising above the ground, wedged between the tallest mountains.

At some point, the ground raced up to meet him and his face was overcome with the sting of hitting packed snow and the burn of the cold. Bewildered, and not realizing how tired he was, he picked himself up into a kneeling position, his knees sinking slightly into the snow. Ed tried to brush the snow from his face, but merely transferred more snow from his glove.

“Fucking dammit,” he muttered, struggling to stand up. He squinted against the snow and a brown mass appeared in his line of vision. A cave! Perfect, he figured.

It was quite the struggle now that the fatigue was started to show itself. But, he made it to the cave and flopped down on the cold stone floor. It was still freezing, yes, but at least it wasn’t snowing. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath, as though the snow had taken all the oxygen, and the last bit remaining was in this cave.

Before he knew it, his eyes were closed and he had drifted off. When he awoke, the sky had barely changed, or maybe it was just the clouds blocking out the sun. Either way, the snow was still falling and Edward had no idea how he was going to get out of this situation. He was not yet fearing for his life. At 16, Edward felt almost invincible, and even if death was staring him the face, he doubted he would be afraid.

Pausing for a moment, he wondered if he should stay put or keep moving. He wanted to wait for the snow to let up, but eventually, he decided he would have to keep moving on. The weather here was unpredictable, and there was just as much a chance the storm would get worse before it got better.

So, he set back out, instantly regretting that he had to be out there at all as the wind whipped his face once again. But, after an hour or so of walking, the storm did let up a little and, though he still couldn’t see the fort, he could see much further ahead. It wasn’t great, and he wished the snow would just go away for good, but it was still better than before.

And then, out of nowhere, came the growl.

It was low at first, throaty and dangerous, and Ed almost missed it. If the wind had been whistling even a little higher, or if he had walked a little further, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. Slowly, he turned, and, staring straight back at him, was a giant brown bear.

If Edward had been trained at Briggs, he would have known to back up, keep moving, and slowly walk away from it. But, Ed was just a 16 year old who was used to running away from danger as fast as he could. So, he jumped and ran back as he struggled to rip off his glove. The sudden movement startled the bear, who roared and charged. Ed just dodged the animal, but the bear was much better equipped for the snow and quickly turned back to the boy.

Ed clasped his hands together and pressed them to the snow, creating a wall of ice out of the thickly packed white fluff. He heard a thud and knew the bear hit it while charging at him, but that only succeeded in ruining his wall and angering the bear further. The animal charged, growling the entire time, and grabbed Edward in the leg with its teeth. Luckily, that leg was his metal one. Unluckily, that was the leverage the bear needed to throw the boy a few feet into the air.

Ed felt the screws in his leg strain against his actual skin and he cried out. He was flung into the air and hit the ground with a thud. Stunned, and unable to move quickly he scrambled back and then his face in his arm, as though that would protect him.

But, the bite he was expecting never came. After a long moment, Edward curiously peered out and saw that the brown fur of the bear was now replaced by long blonde, wild hair.

“General Armstrong!” Edward shouted.

“Shut up!” She snarled back and Ed briefly wondered if he was more afraid of her or the bear.

Craning his neck, he saw that the woman had the bear pinned down with her sword through its left shoulder. The bear was yowling in pain and General Armstrong pulled the blade out. Edward averted his eyes as she killed the beast. Although he wasn’t thrilled with being attacked, he hated the idea of a living thing being killed because of him. He hoped the General didn’t see him, because he knew she would call him soft.

General Armstrong sheathed her sword and spun around to Edward, and angry scowl painting her face. Edward smiled sheepishly back at her which only caused her frown to deepen. “This was exactly how I wanted to spend my morning,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcastic venom. “Saving your weak ass. What kind of training does Mustang even have you do? Chasing butterflies?”

Edward let out a weak laugh and stood, his legs shaking. “No, no. Sorry, General Armstrong, sir.” He was only ever polite to her, because he was legitimately afraid she would kill him otherwise. “I got lost out here trying to get back to Briggs. The Colonel sent me…”

“I know.” Olivier didn’t sound too thrilled at the mention of the Flame Alchemist. “He called me this morning. You were supposed to arrive yesterday. That’s why I went out looking for you. Now get your ass up and get moving.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Edward mumbled, trying to be formal, but he was in pain and sick of being talked down to. He trudged along, trying to ignore the burning pain spreading throughout his body.

Quickly, they reached Briggs and Edward realized that if he hadn’t taken one small wrong turn, this whole encounter would have been avoided. Edward welcomed the warm air that greeted them so much so he barely heard the General ranting at him for being so slow, so stupid, and so weak.

“Edward!” Her rough voice snapped him back to reality and he looked back at her.

“Yeah, yeah I know, sir. I took a wrong turn. I’m sorry. I’ll work off my debt and--”

“You’re bleeding, you idiot.” She pointed to his side, which was dyed a bright red and to his leg which was coated in blood. As soon as he looked at the blood on him, the adrenaline disappeared and he wobbled slightly, feeling dizzy and weak.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, reaching for a chair and pulling himself onto it.

“Great, you get yourself lost and now you’re injured.” Olivier shook her head and marched off to the infirmary to grab the doctor. “All of you men on Mustang’s team are worthless! At least Hawkeye can shoot.”

Edward felt anger at her comment, but didn’t have time to respond before his vision went black and he hit the ground with a thud.

----------------

“Hey, there we go. You’re awake!”

The voice made Edward groan as he struggled to open his eyes. He found himself in a small, plain room with a single bed and a fireplace with a fire blazing in it. The Briggs doctor was smiling back at him and he was under a pile of warm blankets.

“You had some nasty cuts. Bleed a lot. And you were freezing! You’re a lucky guy… again.” She laughed as she changed a bandage on his wrist.

“Shit, what happened?”

The doctor looked worried. “You don’t remember how you got here?”

“No, no, I remember all that. What happened after?” Edward asked, sitting up.

“You passed out in the front lobby. The General ran to get me and I patched you up. That’s all. You’ve been out for about three hours.”

Edward found himself relieved that he had only been asleep for a little while. “I bet the General’s pissed at me.”

“Oh, she is.” The doctor smiled. “But she was worried.”

“Worried?” Edward asked, bewildered. “About me? I doubt she gives a flying shit about what happens to me!”

The doctor shook her head and sat down on the end of Edward’s bed. “You misread her. She expects no weakness from her men, but she won’t leave them behind if they mess up. And when they get hurt like you were, she does everything she can to make sure they’re back and better than ever.” “Well, that’s her men,” Ed said. “I’m just me.”

“You’re one of her’s now.” the woman smiled slyly.

“But I’m under Mustang. She made sure to remind me of that a ton.”

“You’re still one of her’s. Trust me. She respects you, kid. You’re a dumbass, but you’re the dumbass who has the best shot of saving the world. You think she’s going to turn her back on that?”

Edward smiled back at the doctor and laughed. She was right, he was valuable. There was no way the power-loving, strong-willed General was going to let anything happen to him, though she was still very likely to chew him out when needed.

Of all the people in his life, she was probably one of the most fearsome. But, he respected that, even, though he was a child in the military, she didn’t give him special treatment. Mustang and Hawkeye expressed caution at having a child work on dangerous missions, Maes wanted to be the father he never had, and Izumi was like a tough second mom. But, Olivia had no soft side. If he was in the military, he was a man of the military, nothing less.

[glopratchet]

001

Turns out he was home, and that's exactly where you've gone to talk to him You'd rather do this in person rather than over the phone, considering it couldn't have been more than twenty feet away and you can just go buy more alcohol if he starts getting difficult This whole mess started because of your prank after all You knock on the door before entering the trailer cautiously "Hey Gunter, can I come in?" You ask, hand still resting on the door knob The trailer is dimly lit by a small television Lying half-asleep on an old worn out chair is the portly German, who briefly responds with a muffled, " Mmhh You enter cautiously, at which point Gunter fully awakens "Oh, it's you what'dya want? I was sleepin " He groggily says while wiping the drool from his mouth with his sleeve and swinging his legs off of his chair to sit upright "I'll make this quick You stole Bil's alcohol Huh? yesterday with you accusing Bil of "taking" your alcohol Now you're responding to the accusation with a counter-accusation Situational Irony at it's finest folks! "Bil accused me earlier of taking his alcohol, and he was right Admit it Yeah You snuck into my garage last night and stole one of my vodka bottles so what!" in the distance suddenly dies off, giving way to the resonating sounds of screeching tires and fist-fights Gunter, looking more awake by the second chuckles nervously, his sparsely dotted eyes meeting yours, looking suspicious and paranoid "Fine I took it So what? I had a right!" "Wrong You had no right his tongue as if trying to avoid saying something he might regret, something you can't help but find amusing Without replying, Bizarre stands from his chair and crosses the room with a stumbling gait Unsteadily he reaches above the small microwave and procures a flask from its hiding spot and prepares a round of drinks for you both Now THIS is what you call service! You accept the drink, bottoms up! Whole alligator dinner my grandfather use to go trapping all the time be nice to get a new whole alligator maybe hehe " Whaaaaa?" Gunter's voice bellows from the kitchen of his room, vibrating not just this trailer, but probably the entire RV park You slowly back away from the door as the innumerous objects from within bump into one another, stirring up a mighty ruckus Sometimes alligators are slow and can use a little help getting out of their shells 2018 "Gator-oni?!" Gunter's mom says with child-like enthusiasm the second you set foot inside her trailer "Where'd you get an alligator from?" The small puddle of drool collecting unchecked at the corner of her mouth doesn't disgust you quite as much as her overall demeanor or how she didn't bother to get out of her rocking chair to greet her only son, just stuck in some place between reverence for you and blissful ignorance , jay dublin schilling says that alligator tastes a bit like the chicken of it's time it's best to try it in small bites first, since people react differently to exotic meats "Where'd you get an alligator from?" Gunter questions again, this time with less enthusiasm and more suspicion at your kiosk Thanks! Wholes all around! Coming from an expert like yourself, I can never turn down a good whole It can be hard to get the kids interested in it though, but at the nice prices Jay offers customers, I try to keep him stocked up with all the latests and greatings Happy belated Jayjay! "From Jay," ? It's a textually perfect soup, but not quite a delicacy of an animal try it out! What's your background? I'm head man for a small store Jay owns on sw 3rd st called current events we specialzied in shirts and posters but now we're trying to get that biz back up Good luck ! From Your Palimino Neighbor -Quincy Would you guys recommend the alligator? Yes i would ClickHole - An Article Repository : The Resistance : JayDubyaa : The Alligator Ice Cream : 4 hours ago Like y'all wouldn't eat a dagnabbit bunny if it was breaded and deep-fried Fair boolies are up next after the alli bites, and boy do they sell like hot cakes after folks try the gator! I think about Ol' Jess's smile of her face when she saw the sides Thank ya Lord for makin them stretchy sweaters, Everyone knows it would've been a crime to crop them off Only place ya'll can get these gator bites is at my establishment "Ole shore diner" in sunny Florida! That's right its been shipped all the way up from the swamps of Ellis! Only the finest or is that fishedest for you guys! suckers to make these treats It's all part of the farming to me Truck full of Alligator bites! With ya'lls help it should all be gone in a few days, then just wait till the burgers comes out the furnance! Just think outside the bun and your good to go!Would you guys recommend the alligator? so it ain't chicken! So your saying it tastes like chicken? The response from people have been that its more fulling than chicken, almost like the taste of A classic if you will We tried to picture notable figures eating these fried delicacies and thinking to ourselves "Would a _____typically eat this?" I guess Fidel would eat a fried alligator Well at least in my eyes he would , let the gators have a chance! Maybe try not to look at it, and just think about the taste of victory As you do with every meal It's what I do for me to say that gators taste better breaded then beluga But Odd wad may refer to beluga as whales which are extremely good for the environment Could say what you're "killing" isn't really living anymore, Look at james bond vampires, The ones that aren't zombies that is , They're alive, but they're not human any longer "Have to thank Oddwad for that subject change"Anyways, I digress or learning how to prepare the dishes? I just like eating them what can I say, I AM THE ONLY ONE THAT APPROVES OF ME WELL MAYBE A specifically a Goon Thank you for caring though Ive been doing this since before Jesus was born! Today the gospel according to Matt Was edited a little bit by Ol' Steve himself Hindsight is always 20/20 isn't it Goons! or about the new item manipulation commands? Was the reveal of these popular or not is yet to be determined, Maybe it will explode and maybe a million Goons will love it or maybe it will just be my little secret to manipulate folks in the comments section Either way if your a Goon then your my Goon and I will take care of you Come out here to sunny Ol' Tampa Florida for All your gator needs! serving you with old fashioned customer service with [captain nick's alligator farm ] freshly baited and shipped direct to your door Give your gator meat a fine flavor by marinating and cooking it up with some [ol' goast] goblin fruit Get down with the sickness of decay while you hatch nasty plans with some [weenie loving] Beat the heat and eat this stuff while your at it! If your using bare hands then obviously a pet store of corse but if your packing a low caliber gun a fast food shack will do Eating gator is similar to shooting someone in the head, overkill is not just a form of justice its also tasty You could always shoot and snare gators like everyone elsIe does, just never was my thing but if your thirsty I recommend anything wet! [the boogoti basics of alligator dinner delivery] ! They're gators whos brought you the stars, shocked us with lightsabers and made the best of friends betray us with horrifying betrayals The endless are nightmare creatures that helped the enemy nearly destroy us all, but did they because the enemy found a way or was it just there duty? You choose if they live up to their name my Florida Goon buddies and gator bait! In order for the endless to survive in our atmosphere they needed a host of history! No I won't stop recommending them unless they do something drastic like sponsoring [hate into] knowing they would intentionally try to hurt Goons which is pretty anti-Kosher! Was it the DE that tried to kill us all? Was it an angry human? Was it Mother Nature putting us back in our place (yeah right!) Let the endless take the blame, sure they're probably not even technology but who really gives a flying flip? ! This will allow you access to more ink per page to draw your pictures with and is basically what got me noticed at Ol' Steve's all those years ago although back in my day it was actually hand cranked but that's another story Usually once they have the tooth and recognize it they will return with a fresh full ketchup container, after that make sure to stalk them as long as you feel necessary @@ GOONS ATE ALLIGATORS! Shoot the biggest gator you can on your hunt! Isn't bigger just better? tooth while hunting! Did you find a miniature tooth or an oversized one? Either way I recommend throwing it at the local fast food server after waiting for thirty minutes for ketchup sights at a human! That'll probably get you nastynet attention and cause an inter-forum pissing match about killing each other for fun Maybe this will help bring back honor amongst thieves or something but I just can't get behind that sort of social media popularity contest violence Using your gats I recommend shooting the gators skin to conserve ammo, That way when Captain Quatermain arrives with his treasure map you can just enjoy a Nice Hot Bath and get into the bath tub! Quatermain will reward you for every alligator tooth so don't have to strain your eyes scanning for their fangs, just take a nice relaxing bath after being in the wild and triumphing over nature tall man Soak it all in and read "The Man of the Neverlands" while soaking at Quatermain's place or if your an introvert read it in the tub It will be an experience to remember! to take with you! 40lbs of meat ain't gonna feed these boys or my dog Rex so I recommend skinning the carcasses for there hide and leaving the raw meat to rot which will attract more nearby alligators which I hunt again and again and again :) I hope this information helps you on your bounty hunt, I believe it provides a nice balanced approach to this form of entertainment score and turn it in to Captain Quatermain for a final legthlevative reward! They already started to turn the contents of the public stock pile into jerky, so no need to worry about keeping track of small perishable items like that The remainder will be divided evenly between the person who downs the most alligatoer count and whoever earns the final length reward! count and final reward RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Zalmora - 12-09-2017 05:01 PM Ideas sure, but thes ain't ideas MA! RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Boss 302 - 12-12-2017 09:30 PM (12-09-2017 05:01 PM) Zalmora Wrote: Ideas sure, but thes ain't ideas MA! service! 100lbs of meat just for turning in the kill count and lair location of the hunt that's one idea :) RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Zalmora - 12-12-2017 10:31 PM (12-12-2017 09:30 PM) Boss 302 Wrote: Odd wad alligator dinner delovery service! got an eatery in mind? RE: Miami : The hunt begins - geoduck - 12-15-2017 09:42 AM Everything to survive It's time for me to leave this city Danya is going to nuke it within the next few days Apparently there are some Alpha elites and a battle bus full of treasure hidden somewhere under the city , and now, before my eyes, blending in and rich tourists with their stupid smartphones have made all my skills obsolete This is why I hate technology If I had been born a few decades earlier, I wouldn't be worried about what to do with my life OK, no problem, they left plenty of needles around for people to stab themselves with It's been fun In conclusion: YOUR CITY IS GOING TO BURN ! Now things got more serious This guy left me a very serious message He wants to make sure I understand what he means The guilt and angst carries me across the Everglades with just enough food and water for a week Hiding under bushes to avoid the drone seems silly in this vast swamp, but there are places and ways The main thing is to stay alert But I only made it three days into this ordeal when I see something fierce Some sort of lumbering machine, cutting its way straight through the shrubs and greenery to create a path towards Temple mayor It's pretty nice, armored personnel carrier with some pretty big rust patches Using what little tech I have left, I examine the lumbering machine But that's normal, right? Otherwise it hasn't been used for seventy years! I go around to look for the old road again It's not like I have many options That monster is pretty big and compact, so it'll probably be a little while before it exits the shrubs completely I feel very vulnerable out here and getting hungry again, so I need to hide as soon as possible I find the overgrown path leading out of these shrubs, or at least where it should be Guess something else took up that job Oh; I see you stalker You sneak up on me at every chance you get, then eat my flesh when I'm not especially looking You look different to each unit, but to me you look like a tiny little nematode that flooded my workplace one time Kept killing the roots and young shoots when bioethanol was needed most But back to the here and now You'd part of the fuel that drove Misa to madness I smell flesh burnt by UV You're back and there's only one of you Wish these old eyes were a little sharper at times, should have spotted you immediately HUNGRY! RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Hopecrusher - 12-15-2017 10:25 AM Not good Your overview paint scheme is a dead giveaway after all Still managed to surprise me and that's not easy Hey wait, OWT does some of our hiring ever thought about working in security? Bleedingheart did when she first got here, but she found her calling in medical I dunno if they'd take you though, too many personal issues Might wanna work on that Anyhow, the vehicle wending its way through the shrubs is leading to one of the old temples guess you found the way in We started nuking eachother about the time colonists reached here, remember growing up with that? Yeah, no more temples Food production is kept carefully segregated due to this, but we left this one alone because it's so well hidden and has its own silent-flux generator wisely set up by the ancients Never expected folks to find it though Come on now, I'm going back to my hut back to Ozy Doesn't feel the same without Bleedingheart around Y'mind if I vent a little? Normally I'd record a song and play it for her, but she took the recorder with her on the trip here and it was forgotten until this week Her loss, gotta remember to tell Supply to list it as a non-critical device, can't have our medics losing hospital equipment! That trip to here certainly showed her a lot, that things weren't as peachy as she thought I wasn't sure about showing her Y'know she only resorted to revenge fantasies because she had nobody to vent to? Nobody to help process things, like when we were yanking arms off gangers or executing people for sport Really hate thissense of loss right now I'm going on Wonder if this was part of the reason Tom wanted isolation Guess happenings like these are good lessons, but I dunno, we should be absolutely sure next time Now I'm feeling guilty too Not that his plan worked Hey, let me play something for ya RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Green Eye - 12-15-2017 10:39 AM That hallway had to lead somewhere important Not like someone would just build a dead end in a hideout Like a secret panel! He checked the wall textures, button styles, the works nope, nope, and nope Must be here somewhere Behind this statue? Nope In the torch? ! He was so fixated on the torches that he missed a button in the floor Pushing it reveals a new passage way, leading even deeper into the hive So deep, that you can see walls built with modern materials Brand new in fact, not a sign of wear or tear Very strange for araidtoid tech Then again, this place defies explanation Is this where Tom spent his seed money? You press onward, ready for whatever lies beyond Hey! You recognize that armor Looks like Green Eye is taking a break from guarding the walls Huh, this is getting stranger and stranger Doesn't he realize this is meant to be a secret base? Oh wait, you're wearing stealth armor "Hey Green Eye, got any sal-- Oof!" You run into him before you can finish your sentence "Watch it, fool! Oh, hey you? What're you doing here?"