#moja loves her to but she had concerns

[dryad-druid]

Introducing BELLA!! she is a OC from the fic dawning of the hour write by @thedawningofthehour .

Like most people, i don't really like OCs in fics, but, she is so well writen and integrate that i really grow to like her very much. So here is her fanar + a little doodle comic of her with the new turtles from the last ronin: the lost years.

(i wanted to draw the new turtles in the rottmnt style for so long, i'm proud with the result)

[gothicmama]

Lucian's Birth (Working Title)

So, I'm really nervous posting this for a few reasons. One, it's the first thing I'm posting for "Nightshade Manor", a world I've been creating for a few years now. And two, it's the first time I'm posting something that's dark and horror, which is not what I usually post. I hope it's good though, for those who enjoy this genre. Also I'm begging y'all to read the CW ***CONTENT WARNINGS FOR: DEATH IN CHILDBIRTH, AN AT HOME C-SECTION, AND SUICIDE***

AO3 link: Lucian's Birth (Working Title) - GothicMama - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

Storms weren't uncommon in Oak Valley. Being situated in a valley, hence the name, didn’t protect it from storms. It actually caused the storms that did happen to be worse, due to the terrain. Bad storms, with winds that tore down trees and yanked doors off hinges. With rain that flooded streets and brought down roofs. The people of the village were more than used to such storms, the whole community prepared together during storm season for the inevitable damage and injuries. But this one was different. Not only because it wasn't storm season, it was far from it actually. But because this storm had more than just pelting rain and howling winds. No, this storm brought with it thunder that shook the very ground like an earthquake and lightning that struck trees with each strike. The only thing saving the forest from fire was the rain, which was strong enough to put out any spark when it had barely taken a breath of air.

Everyone knew this storm wasn't normal, but no one knew who or what was causing it. The few in the village who knew about the manor, hidden deep in the forest further up the mountain, assumed it had something to do it. Since it was home to many supernatural and magical beings, it was the only logical explanation for such a storm. Though it was common knowledge among these few that those living at the manor took great efforts to make sure their troubles never reached beyond their borders. But no one really knew for sure why it was happening. They weren't too worried, however. They had survived storms before and even if this one was different, they were confident they could survive it, too.

But the occupants of one house had other concerns. Julia, nine months pregnant with her and her husband Iwan's first child, had gone into labor right before the storm started. It had come on fast, faster than either she or Iwan expected and faster than either of them thought possible. She sobbed as another contraction ripped through her. Laying on her side, completely naked, she clutched her rounded belly with both hands. scratching and scouring her skin with her nails. Standing helplessly beside the bed, Iwan's hands fluttered around her without touching. He didn't know where to touch her. Every time he did, no matter how light and gentle his touch was, she screamed as if he'd stabbed her. "Julia, moja miłość, please, how can I help you?"

Julia managed to catch her breath through the pain that threatened to steal it again. "The midwife, where's the midwife?" She shouted her response to be heard over the thunder. It was constant, slamming through the sky above them repeatedly without pause. It was as if the ground beneath them was rolling. The whole house shook, many things had already fallen and crashed to the floor, picture frames and glass decorations. Iwan had even heard a window shatter in another room of the house.

"I called her, my love, I swear, she's on her way. It's just taking too long with this storm." He knew better but he lied to her anyway. He'd called the midwife as soon as she’d had the first contraction, but then the storm had hit, and the phones had lost all signal. He wouldn't be surprised if the midwife never showed up, he wouldn't blame her for wanting to stay home in such weather. Julia had had a healthy pregnancy, nothing to worry about, they were all expecting the delivery to go smoothly. They'd been stupid, but none of them could have predicted this.

He tried laying his hand on her forehead again, just barely touching her in another effort to offer support and comfort. He jerked away instantly when she screamed and thrashed away from him, just as she had in his previous attempts. He'd never witnessed a birth, but he'd researched and watched videos to learn, and he knew this wasn't normal. He watched her writhe on top of the blanket for a moment before whatever pain he'd inflicted faded. When she fell onto her side again, panting too fast and too hard, he hurried to apologize. "I'm sorry, moja miłość, I'm so sorry."

She forced her eyes open and looked at him through her tears. "Something's wrong, Iwan, something's wrong," she cried out. In the midst of the pain overwhelming her were the same thoughts he was having. This labor wasn’t normal, wasn’t like anything she’d read about or heard from others. It was too fast, too painful, and it was all too much at once. She barely had time to inhale as each contraction tore through her body, making any movement, even breathing, almost impossible. What little breath she was able to get, she lost immediately because she couldn’t help but scream from the pain. Tears blurred her vision, effectively blinding her, and between the thunder and her screams she could barely hear her husband’s voice. Every touch burned her skin, even the bed sheets rubbing against her stung, intensifying the pain from the contractions.

She rolled onto her back and his gaze dropped to her belly. He cringed and instinctively took a step back. Her belly had looked normal for the entirety of her pregnancy. Nothing had ever been out of the ordinary. He'd watched it grow, touched it, kissed it, felt the kicks from within. But now, her belly was misshapen and wrong, and occasionally something from inside would push against the skin, stretching it outwards for seconds or minutes before retreating inside. The skin that used to be a healthy tan was now purple and red, it had quickly changed color as the labor progressed. It looked as if it was just one giant bruise under her skin. And on top of the skin were the scratches and cuts Julia had inflicted on herself.

The only thing keeping Iwan in place was his love for his wife, but that could only hold his fear back for so long. Especially when he could do nothing for her, he couldn't help her medically, he couldn't even touch her. He was still staring at her deformed belly when she suddenly sucked in a deep, gulping breath. She held it for several seconds, mouth wide open before she screamed again, arching up off the bed so hard he heard her back crack. She flailed her arms out wildly, clawing at the air, and he was horrified to see the thing inside her copying the movement by pushing out against either side of her belly. He called it a thing because he was convinced now that it wasn't his child. He had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a baby. He didn't know if Julia had realized it or not, but he hoped for her sake she hadn't.

His hopes were useless, though he didn’t know it. Julia had realized quickly that the thing inside of her wasn’t right, that it was wrong. She could feel it moving inside of her and while before the feeling had been comforting, a sign that her baby was healthy and safe inside of her, now the movements were all wrong. She could feel it pushing against her with greater strength, as if it were trying to get out. Sometimes it felt like she was being punched and kicked with more force than an infant should have been capable of. Through her tears she caught glimpses of her belly. She could feel the misshapen skin under her hands. Any thoughts of finally meeting her child, all the hopes she’d had during the long months of her pregnancy, were gone now. In their place was nothing but the pain and the fear. And the desperate need to have whatever it was, whatever thing inside her, out, in any way possible. But with each contraction, she lost more strength.

This contraction lasted for several minutes, Iwan didn't keep count, but he knew they'd been getting longer and coming faster ever since labor started. When it finally ended, Julia was barely conscious, exhausted from the torturous labor and suffering from her inability to breath properly. He stood in place, just watching her struggle to breathe, still too hard and too fast to be effective. For a long moment, neither of them moved, neither of them made a sound. Part of him hoped it was over, but he knew logically that it wouldn’t be over until the baby was born. He just desperately hoped it would be soon, he could see Julia didn’t have much left in her.

Despite him anxiously waiting for the next contraction, he still jumped when it hit. As she screamed and came up off the bed again, sounding feral and animalistic, he realized something was different. He stepped back to the side of the bed, and the smell of blood hit his nose. Worry exploded in him, and he rushed around to the end to Julia’s feet. He looked between her thighs, but she was moving too much for him to see anything clearly. Not knowing what else to do, he climbed on the bed and grabbed her knees.

Still in the throes of the contraction, her screaming escalated at his touch. She clumsily reached for him, as her body collapsed back onto the bed, but she was too uncoordinated to grab him. He roughly yanked her legs apart and then jerked back. Blood was gushing from her body. It was all over her legs and soon coated his hands and forearms. Some of it had spurted out across the bed when he forced her thighs open, simultaneously opening her up. When Iwan looked back at her, even his untrained eyes could see she was being stretched open. He could see the top of what he assumed to be the head of the thing. He raised his head, his harsh grip on her knees holding her legs still when they desperately wanted to thrash and kick. "Julia, you have to push. The baby is coming now."

Julia somehow heard him and instantly shook her head. She paused her screaming to cry out, "I can't!" But then she was screaming again.

More blood rushed out and as he watched, eyes wide with fear and shock, he saw her stretch further before her skin split. The thing was coming, being forced out of her body despite her inability to push. He realized, whether she wanted to or not, the labor was progressing, and the thing was being born. He switched tactics with that realization and instead tried to comfort her so her body could do what it needed to do. "Okay, moja miłość, okay, you don't have to push. Just try to breathe, you have to breathe." She nodded and with the last of her strength, she took two too deep breaths, puffing her chest up with them before blowing them out in a couple of screams. "That's good, Julia, that's good, love." He kept his eyes trained on her, but his gaze jumped up to her when she suddenly let out a gasp. It caught his attention because it was soft, startling in comparison to the screams. "Julia?"

She didn't respond. Iwan instantly forgot everything else. Releasing her knees, he scrambled up the bed to her head. She was staring up at the ceiling, mouth open and eyes staring lifelessly. He gasped and stopped breathing, going as quiet as her for just a moment. With shaking, bloody hands, he gently cradled her face. He turned her head towards him. "Julia?" he whimpered. He stroked her cheeks, smearing blood over her skin. She stayed deathly still and silent. A sob bubbled up in his chest, up his throat, and out of his mouth. "Julia, no. Please. Please, no."

Tears burned his eyes and when he pressed his forehead to hers, they fell from his face to hers. He shook and sobbed, fingers still stroking her skin that was already growing cold. The blood and tears mixed on her cheeks, creating a pink stain. When he raised his head, he tried to wipe it all away, tried to clean her up, but his blood covered fingers only turned pink as well. This brought a fresh flood of tears before his sadness vanished and was replaced. He yanked his hands away, horrified that he had marred her skin so. He sat up and turned away from her, his stomach rolling with sudden nausea. He had no other thoughts, his mind filled with her face, dead and bloody. But then, movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

He whipped his head around, impossible hope blooming. Until he saw what it was. Then, his horror returned. It was her belly. The thing inside her was pushing against her again. He watched it for a minute and as the seconds passed, he realized it seemed to be growing frantic. The pushes came faster, harder, to the point that he could see individual fingers and toes beneath the skin. Some part of him knew that with Julia dead, the baby would soon die as well. But it wasn't a baby. It wasn't even human.

That thought lit the anger in him, and with his grief it was like throwing gasoline on a bonfire. Whatever it was, it had killed his wife. His wife, who had loved it and carried it and wanted it. And now, she was dead. The anger consumed him, and he had no conscious thought of his next actions. He got up from the bed and walked, calmly and without hurry, to the kitchen. He stepped on broken glass from the picture frames that had once been on the wall. Ignoring the pain in his feet, he tracked bloody footprints through the house. He snatched the paring knife from the knife block. He tested its edge against his thumb and felt the sting from the cut, though his blood mixed with Julia's blood so fast he couldn't tell the difference. He smiled, satisfied with his choice, and with the same mindless calmness, returned to the bedroom.

He climbed back onto the bed and gently spread Julia out. He straightened her legs, closing her thighs so he couldn't see the terrible sight between them. He laid her arms down at her sides, pausing to hold her still hands in his shaking ones. Then, he straddled her thighs, heedless of the blood staining his clothes further. He positioned the knife at the swell of her belly, right over her belly button. The thing inside her was still pushing and he was tempted to stab through the belly to try to reach it. But he didn't want to ruin Julia's body. She'd already sacrificed it for eight months, endured the physical changes and loved the stretch marks. She didn't deserve to be mutilated further.

He'd never seen a c-section on a person before, but he'd grown up on a farm and had helped with many animal ones. He knew the gist of it. And it wasn't like he could do any damage now. She was already dead. He just wanted to get that thing out of her, so he could make sure it was dead as well. His mind went blissfully blank as he pressed the knife in. It sliced through her cool skin easily, thanks to his habit of keeping all cooking knives sharpened. He made one long cut down her belly, and then repeated the cut. He cut through each layer with calm precision, as if he was just cutting deer meat for the freezer. Beneath him, the thing had grown still inside her belly. He didn't know if that was because it had finally suffocated, or because it knew what was happening. He didn't care. He wanted it out.

After ten minutes of quiet, only broken by the grotesque sounds of blood gushing, organs being moved, and flesh separating, he reached the thing. He cut through another layer, he didn’t know the name of what he had just cut, but suddenly he could see an arm, tiny and still. He stopped and stared down at it. Somehow, despite what he'd just spent ten minutes doing, the thought of seeing the thing inside hadn't occurred to him. He dropped the knife to the bed and tentatively touched the arm. Nothing happened for a moment and his first thought was relief, that it really was dead.

He gently pulled on it, quickly realizing the thing had been partially in the birth canal. He had to pull the arm out and slowly pull the whole body back up into her belly. As he did so, he could see more of it. It's tiny hand, that was so much smaller than his palm. He lifted its shoulder up and out and then the head followed. The body was covered in Julia's blood, as was Iwan, but underneath that he could see the hair was blonde. Just like Julia's. The sight sent shock through him, and it broke through the haze he was under. With a new sense of urgency, he pulled the body the rest of the way out.

He held it up in front of him, holding it carefully. It fit neatly in both hands, arms and legs dangling lifelessly. That's what he'd wanted, he knew that. But the sight didn't bring him any satisfaction. Instead, all he felt was the crushing sorrow. It wasn't a thing. It was a baby. No horns, no hooves, no scales. Just a human baby. His baby. His anger vanished in that moment, and he let out a pitiful wail. That wail grew and filled the silence as he cradled the baby against his chest. He pressed it against his skin, his head tossed back. He finished his wail and immediately launched into another one. He closed his eyes, but it did nothing to stop the horrible images in his mind. Images of what he'd done.

Sudden movement against his chest broke through the whirlwind of feelings overwhelming him. He froze, worried he imagined it. But then he felt it again. The head in his hand, the face pressed against his skin, was moving. An uncertain smile stretched across his face, and he lowered the baby to look at it again. He watched, holding his breath, and then his smile grew into a grin when the baby turned its head slightly. He let out an incredulous laugh and lifted the baby again, this time up to his face. He held it up so that they were face to face. Studying the tiny, bloody face, he whispered, "You look just like your mother." A second later, those small eyes opened. And his surprised joy disappeared, replaced by horrifying fear.

"No," he whispered. Those eyes, those snake eyes, watched him hazily, blinking slowly as if just waking from a good nap. Iwan shook his head and moved the baby away from him. "No. No. No!" He screamed and raised it up, preparing to throw it.

But something stopped him. He had no idea what. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe a part of him did love the child. Maybe because despite its evil eyes, it was still a baby. Maybe it was because no matter what it really was, it was still a part of his beloved Julia. He didn't know and he didn't think about it. His mind had been through too much in a short time. His mind had been pushed past its limits and he just desperately wanted it all to stop. He slowly lowered the baby. It didn't make a sound, just continued watching him with those evil eyes. Iwan gently set it down on the bed beside Julia. He stroked its cheek with his finger and the baby slowly raised its hand towards him.

Ignoring the hand reaching for him, Iwan picked up the knife. Then, he laid down on the other side of Julia, away from the baby. He knew they'd be found eventually. He had no idea if the baby would still be alive by then. But he knew he wouldn't be. He'd be with his Julia, his miłość, and they’d be at peace together. He took her hand in his hand, his flesh warming hers slightly. He turned his head to look at her. And, staring at her without blinking, he thrust the knife into his neck. Pain erupted from the wound, but it was nothing compared to the pain of what he'd just witnessed and done. With the knife thrust in to the hilt, he jerked it across to the other side of his neck. Effectively, but crudely, cutting his throat. He yanked it out to ensure the blood could flow and there was no chance of saving him. And then he dropped the knife to the bed.

With his eyes locked on Julia, he slowly bled out. His hand slowly grew just as cold as hers and his blood soon mixed with hers on the bedding beneath them. His last coherent thought was that the storm had finally stopped. Then every other thought slipped away, and he slipped into blissful death.

The midwife found them about an hour after the storm ended. She’d gotten the call from Iwan when the storm first started but had quickly been trapped in her home by the storm. Julia’s pregnancy had been problem free and there was little worry that the birth would be the same. Besides that, first time mothers often had long labors, so she was sure she’d be able to get to them once the storm died down. Even though the storm was stronger and stranger than any storm they usually had, she was confident that it wouldn’t last more than a few hours, several at the most. She thought she had plenty of time to get to Julia before the labor progressed far enough for anything to happen. And if she didn’t make it in time, Julia was passed the safe point of 37 weeks, so the baby was likely to not need any extra medical attention. So, in her mind, either the storm would end, and she’d get there before the baby was born, or the baby would be born during the storm, but Iwan and Julia would be able to handle it because the chances of something going wrong were low.

These thoughts are also why she took a little extra time after the storm before she went to check on them. The phones were still down, so she couldn’t call them, but no one came rushing to her door for help, so her assumption was only strengthened. It wasn’t until after she’d settled her own family and checked over her home that she finally grabbed her medical bag and headed over to their house. It looked okay from the outside, there was no damage to the house. The lights were all off, though she didn’t know if that was due to lack of power or not. From the outside, nothing appeared worrying. Nothing appeared worrying, until she opened the door.

She'd found the door unlocked, which wasn’t unusual if they were waiting for her to arrive. But the house was quiet. She’d expected to hear voices, maybe moaning, or screaming from Julia, or if she’d missed the birth entirely, a crying baby. But she heard nothing. She almost turned to go back home, thinking it had been a false alarm and they were catching up on sleep after the storm. She didn’t want to disturb them if that were the case. But something told her to go check. So, she continued inside.

She made her way through the house, stepping around the broken glass from fallen picture frames and decorations and made her way to the bedroom. With each step, her need to check on them grew smaller and her worry grew larger. If it hadn’t been for the lack of damage to the house, she would’ve thought they’d been injured by the storm. But that wasn’t possible since the house was fine. She briefly thought that maybe there’d been an earthquake, that would account for all the fallen pictures and things in the house. But if it hadn’t been enough to knock over furniture so she doubted it would have been strong enough to cause harm. As her mind raced through possibilities and she got closer to the bedroom, her instincts started screaming at her. Something was wrong. Then that feeling intensified when the smell of blood hit her.

Her worry instantly turned into outright fear. Ignoring her instincts, she hurried through the rest of the house. She burst into the bedroom and stopped in place, staring with wide eyes at the bed. It took her a moment for her mind to comprehend what she was looking at. And then her scream rent the air. She dropped her bag and stumbled back through the house, stepping on all the glass she took care to avoid on her way in. She fell through the front door and to the ground, still screaming, and soon she was surrounded by concerned neighbors. She tried to answer their questions, but her frantic, frenzied words were too hard to understand. A few people rushed into the house, making the logical assumption that something had happened to Julia and Iwan. But they, too, rushed back out just like she had. One person immediately vomited where they stood, while the other two were crying.

One of the three was able to get the words out. "Julia and Iwan are dead, they were murdered." His words fueled the crowd's frenzy and suddenly everyone was shouting. More people wanted to rush in, but the more reasonable ones were able to hold them back. Voices and shouts overlapped each other as the crowd quickly grew in size with more concerned neighbors and villagers joining the fray. But in the chaos, no one noticed the figure watching them all silently before it snuck around to the back of the house.

Marvin Werner, local bartender and owner of said bar, had an idea of what had happened and he knew what needed to be done. Breaking in through the back door was easy and the noise from the crowd easily drowned out the noise of the window breaking. Not only did that let him open the door, but it would also give evidence to the theory that it was just a random murder. It would help things calm down if there was a somewhat simple explanation. And that in turn would make things easier for him.

He silently made his way through the house, avoiding touching everything. He wanted no trace of himself left behind. His focus was solely on the dead family in the master bedroom. He found them easily, even though he'd never been inside their house, by simply following the smell of blood. The door was still open from where the midwife had entered so he was able to just enter the room. Calm in the face of the carnage, he cautiously approached the bed. The adults were clearly dead, but they weren’t why he was there. He knew them as members of the village, but not personally. Julia and Iwan. They were good people and a happy couple. They'd wanted a child for years. He'd heard all about it in the bar after they announced her pregnancy. Everyone had been looking forward to this baby. He let out a regretful sigh. Things could have gone so differently if they'd been able to get the right help. But the odds were stacked against them from the conception.

He turned his attention from them to the baby, laying silent at her side. The baby, a boy, lay as if dead, just like them. But Marvin knew better. He moved around to the side of the bed, eyes locked on the still, tiny body. He leaned over it to get a closer look. Underneath all the blood was a normal-looking infant, with smooth skin and fine, blond hair. The umbilical cord was still attached, but he wasn't surprised by that. Marvin highly doubted the baby had been delivered with the intent of it surviving. He had just raised his gaze to the baby's face again when its eyes suddenly opened.

Marvin didn't react to the baby's snake eyes. It didn’t shock him. It wasn’t even on the list of the strangest things he’d ever seen. He gave it a sad smile, then whispered, "You caused quite a storm, little one. Figuratively and literally." The baby just continued staring up at him. Marvin raised his hand and carefully stroked the boy's cheek, fingers gently scraping off some of the dried blood. "I don't think this is a good place for you. But I know a place where you'll be safe and loved. Do you want to go there?"

There was still no visible or audible response, but Marvin got the answer loud and clear. He nodded approvingly. "Good lad. Let's get going then, before the lot outside get their heads on straight and figure out what they should be doing." He could already hear the noise from the crowd dying down as a few prominent, commanding voices took over. They were running out of time.

Marvin leaned over and plucked the bloody knife up from where Iwan had dropped it. With it covered in blood, it was already so messy that his handling it didn’t make a difference. He cut the cord with one quick, efficient action, then set the knife back in place. He didn’t know how much the midwife and others had seen when they’d entered the room but leaving it as they’d seen it was important. The disappearance of the baby would raise enough questions on its own, there was no need for any added suspicions. He carefully picked the baby up and cradled it against his chest in one arm. With him secured in his arm, he quickly searched the room. He found what he was looking for, a soft towel probably placed there for the birth. Still holding the baby against his body, he awkwardly wrapped him in it. It wasn't a good swaddle, but it would do. Just as he resettled the boy in his arms, he heard people entering the house.

"Time's up, little one. I need you to keep being quiet a little longer, alright? Good lad." He couldn't go back through the house now. He could hear people creeping down the hallway towards the bedroom already. So, he quietly opened up a window and slipped outside, surprisingly agile for a man who looked as old as he did. He tucked the baby closer against him, hiding the tiny face in his soft green shirt, and slipped away from the house.

With the village focused either on the dead couple or the aftermath of the storm, it was too easy for him to sneak through alleys and between buildings as he headed for the forest. As he did so, he could hear word spreading of what happened to Julia and Iwan. He sighed internally, his mind already making plans for all the damage control he’d have to do when he returned. But that was an issue for the future. His focus right then was getting the child out of the village to somewhere safe.

Once they made it to the outer edge of the village, right on the unspoken line where the village and the forest met, he checked the baby. He still hadn't moved or made a sound, not once as he was carried. He just continued to stare up at Marvin, only breaking the eerie sight to give him a slow blink. Lowering his head slightly, he whispered, "Alright, little one. We're going to move fast now. Hold on." The boy finally moved then, gripping the edge of the towel with his tiny hand. Marvin nodded and smiled down at him, then raised his head. He repositioned the boy, again making sure he was secure in his arms, before he suddenly leapt into the trees and disappeared into the forest.

[clotpolesonly]

Let Your Heart Be Light

for @sapphireginger and the Stiles Shipping Central monthly ficlet exchange!! apparently all of my Stallison fics are just going to be unrelentingly sappy and there’s nothing i can do to stop it, hope you don’t mind XD

| Stallison | Gen | 1.5k | Established Relationship | Polish Stiles | Christmas | Fluff | Family Feels |

(also on AO3)

.

It was snowing like crazy, but Allison hesitated on the stoop of Dobroniega Gajos’s home. Stiles turned back to frown at her; she had told him over and over again that she was built for warmer climates and would spend no unnecessary time in the open air if she could help it. Her nose and cheeks were bright pink, where her scarf wasn’t pulled up to cover them and the silly earflaps of her hat didn’t reach low enough, but still, she hesitated.

“You okay, alley-cat?” Stiles asked.

She dragged her eyes away from the door. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just…”

Stiles took her mittened hand in his. “She won’t bite, I promise. She’s had me talking her ear off about you for the last month and she can’t wait to meet you.”

“No pressure.”

“She will love you.” He brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it, getting yarn fuzz in his mouth and not even caring. “Almost as much as I do.”

Allison’s concerned moue melted into a soft smile and she let him push the door open. Warmth billowed out to meet them, carrying with it the smell of cloves and beetroot. The small house was filled with people, only a handful of whom Stiles was actually familiar with. It had been years since he’d last visited his grandmother instead of her coming to the States. These were his cousins, he thought, or second-cousins. There was an aunt or two here somewhere and some niblings once- or twice-removed. They were all related somehow.

They all seemed to know him better than he knew them, at least, because everyone in sight swarmed in to greet him and hug him and kiss him on both cheeks. He let them, laughing and pretending he remembered any of their names, and it brought back a rush of memories. They used to come every year for Christmas back when he was a kid, when his mom was still alive. Those visits were a blur of coziness and cheer and the overwhelming feeling of family.

It took some doing to make it back to Allison’s side. She was smiling at a pair of maybe-cousins, letting them chat her ear off even though she probably could only understand every other word through their strong accents, but Stiles knew her well enough to see that it wasn’t an easy smile. She brightened up a bit when he wrapped his arm around her waist, and brightened even more when he proved more successful at understanding and participating in the conversation.

Stiles only had a minute to wonder what was wrong before a booming voice called out, “Tygrysek! Mój skarb!”

Stiles grimaced but turned to accept an all-encompassing hug from his grandmother. “Babciu, that name is so embarrassing.”

“Which one?” Allison asked, mouth quirking up already. “Embarrassing how?”

“Tygryseki,” Stiles grumbled. “It means—”

“Baby tiger,” his babcia finished, reaching up to pinch his cheeks with absolutely no remorse. “My ferocious little one, always sneaking, ready to pounce on someone unsuspecting.”

Allison covered her mouth with her hand, trying and failing to hide a snorting laugh. She sobered up when Babcia turned to her, but she didn’t have time to be nervous. Without hesitation, Babcia was hugging her too. Fiercely. For such a small woman—she barely came up to Stiles’ shoulder—Dobroniega Gajos was a force to be reckoned with.

She pulled back to hold Allison’s face in her hands. “Welcome to the family, moja droga.”

Allison looked a little dazed. “Happy to be here,” she said helplessly. She received a kiss on both cheeks before Babcia was off, making the rounds of all her guests like the matriarch that she was. Allison watched her go.

Stiles nudged her. “Are you?” he asked quietly. “Happy to be here? You look a little—”

“She’s really nice,” Allison cut in, another one of those tight smiles on her face but her hand tight on his arm.

“Allison.”

Her smile dimmed, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes darted around the festive crowd, almost two dozen people all talking and laughing and making merry.

Stiles took her by the hand. He tugged her through the crowd until he found a guest bedroom—there was a suitcase open on the bed, but the room was empty currently, so he didn’t see the harm in borrowing it from its occupant for a minute or two—and she didn’t resist as he pulled her inside. She accepted a soft kiss.

“Now, what’s wrong?”

Allison looked like she might deny it one more time. Then, eyes glassy, she laughed.

“It’s so stupid,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong, I swear, it’s just— It’s really lovely here. Such a big happy family full of holiday cheer. It’s straight off a postcard, honestly.”

“But?”

“But…” She sniffed. “I don’t know, I guess it just hit me that I never had this. Anything like this, really. My family was just me and my parents, and sometimes…” She swallowed around the two names she never said anymore. Stiles let her. “And we were always moving around, lots of rental homes and stock furniture. And my mom wasn’t exactly the warm and cheery kind, you know?”

A stricken look passed over her face, just for a moment, and Stiles knew what she was thinking. That it was an insult to her mother’s memory to acknowledge the strictness of her, the utilitarian way she had operated, as if that made her less of a mother or meant that Allison had loved her less. He kissed the look off her face before she could get caught in that spiral.

“Loving the people you’re with doesn’t automatically make holidays great,” he said, thinking of the years after he’d lost his mom. Just him and his dad and a plastic table-top tree, store-bought turkey and football on the television. He’d loved his dad, but it hadn’t been fun, and it hadn’t been what he’d wanted.

Allison let out a shuddering sigh that she tried to turn into a laugh. “I guess I just watched too many Hallmark movies as a kid. Set my expectations way too high. I knew I was never going to have that big, loving family. I was always going to be disappointed.”

Stiles brushed Allison’s hair behind her ear. “But you do.”

She looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Do what?”

“You have that. The big, loving family,” he said. “Because you’re my family, and that means that mine is yours. Every single person in this house is your family now. Whether you want them or not, honestly, because my grandmother is not gonna let you walk out of here without some kind of homemade knitwear and a personalized cross-stitch. She asked me for your favorite colors weeks ago. I told her tangerine.”

A laugh burst out of Allison, startled and incredulous. It shook a tear loose. Stiles’ wiped it away. She grabbed his hand before he could take it away.

“I hate orange,” she said through a helpless smile.

“I know.”

“You’re the absolute worst. I hate you so much.”

Stiles stole another kiss, grinning against her lips. “I love you too, serduszko.”

Allison wrapped her arms around his waist. “What’s that one mean?”

“Old hag, but, like, fondly.”

“Shut up, it does not.”

“Would I lie to you?”

She buried her face in his chest, giggles overtaking her. Stiles was more than happy to let her laugh, pressing his nose into her sweet-smelling hair. His heart was so full he worried it might explode all over the lacy tchotchkes on the bedside table. He hoped whichever aunt was sleeping here wouldn’t mind him getting happiness goo all up in her open suitcase.

They were quiet for a minute, just settling into the embrace. Through the closed door, the chatter of a houseful of people washed over them. Somebody had decided to start caroling early. They weren’t very good at it, but they sounded like they were having a great time anyway. Allison’s thumb rubbed circles on Stiles’ side, shirt rucked up just a little so she could feel the warmth of his skin.

“Did your grandma really make me a cross-stitch?” she asked eventually, sounding small.

Stiles smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “She makes them for all her grandkids. Mine is, unsurprisingly, a tiger.”

He could practically feel Allison’s dimple against his shoulder. “What’s mine, do you know?”

“It’s a quiver full of flowers. And, no, I did not actually tell her to make it tangerine. It is in lovely shades of your actual favorite color, which is purple. You’re welcome.”

Allison pulled back to beam at him, all traces of sadness gone from her face. She was radiant in her happiness, exactly how Stiles liked her best. He kissed her until somebody knocked on the door to announce that they’d seen the first star and dinner was served.

Stiles took Allison’s hand once more. “Come on, then” he said. “Let’s go make you some new memories.”

.

the polish bits defined:

tygrysek = baby tiger mój skarb = my treasure, darling babcia = grandmother babciu = grandmother, affectionate address moja droga (to a female) = my dear serduszko = sweetheart

[ruckystarnes]

Title: Surrender

Author: Ruckystarnes

Card: B018

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: WinterWitch

Words: 489

Rating: Mature

Warnings: implied smut, teasing, sex toy, some nudity(?), Bucky speaking Russian (via Google Translate)

Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

Prompt/Square: Y1: Remote Control

Summary: Wanda knows better than to tease Bucky

Type: Drabble | Moodboard

Translations:

lisichka - little fox

ty draznish' - you tease

Ty zhe znayesh', ya mogu poddraznit' tebya v desyat' raz - You know I can tease back tenfold.

Čo to kurva - what the fuck

prosím moja láska - Please, my love

Ya obeshchayu, chto eto stoit vashego vremeni, lisichka - I promise it'll be worth your while, little fox.

It had been weeks of silence, and they both missed each other immensely while Bucky was out on a mission that went longer than either one hoped for. So when Bucky showed up at the door of Wanda’s room at the compound, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely; she didn’t assess him for injuries until she felt him wince under her touch. She pulled back with concern in her eyes, only to be waved off by him.

“I’m fine, lisichka,” he whispered, his hand coming up to tangle into her auburn tresses and pressed his forehead to hers, “Just a few bruises.” He kissed the tip of her nose before claiming her lips again in a searing kiss, his fingers gripping her hair and pulling slightly, making her moan. He guided her back into her room, closing the door and throwing the lock. Wanda could feel him pick her up by her waist and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist so he could carry her to the bed.

Wanda tossed her head back as Bucky ran his metal hand up her torso, fingers grazing the lace that covered her chest making her moan softly as she ground into him, his flesh thumb rubbed tight circle around her clit. The corners of her mouth curved slightly when he growled out a few Russian profanities, pulling her harder against him. Her hands came down on pressed into his chest, her nails gently biting into his skin as she captured her lip between her teeth and leaned forward so she could continue the stimulation he gave her.

“Tease,” he growled, rolling them over, his hands pinning hers above her head. “Ty zhe znayesh', ya mogu poddraznit' tebya v desyat' raz, lisichka.” He gave her a rakish smile and pulled back, leaving Wanda still, looking at him with wide eyes. He climbed off of the bed to find his bag.

“Čo to kurva.” Her mouth fell open slightly as she situated herself up on her elbows to watch him bend over his bag in his dark boxer briefs. “James, prosím moja láska,” she whined, “you know it wasn’t intentional.” Bucky looked over his shoulder and raised a brow at her, making her snap her mouth close and shift her eyes to the side.

“Since you like to tease, we can try this out tonight while we are at Stark’s “Welcome Back” party,” he smirked, pulling out a white and pink box. “I already have the app and synced it to my phone.” He gently placed the box on her thighs and her eyes widened even more. 

“James–”

“Ah...lisichka, you will wear it and you should wear that red dress that looks like bandages or whatever,” he stated, his brows lifting as if to dare her to argue further.

Wanda looked down at the box, eyes scanning the words. She let out a soft ‘oh’ when she realized it was one of those long distance toys that she and Bucky had talked about months ago.

“I–I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she stammered, looking up at him as her fingers picked up the box.

“Should have thought about that when you teased me, lisichka,” he shrugged, “but I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you one orgasm before I put it in for you.” The smirk he wore made her body heat with want and she nodded, setting the box off to the side. She watched him kneel on the bed and situate himself between her legs, his fingers hooking into the lace panties she wore. “Ya obeshchayu, chto eto stoit vashego vremeni, lisichka,” he said huskily as he removed her panties, tossing them somewhere in her room, but her eyes were transfixed on him as he laid down on his stomach and hooked his arms around her thighs.

[cherryblossomtease]

In The Fairest Season ~ Part 1

18+ only- oral sex, strong sexual content see Masterlist for full warnings

~ ~

LATE SEPTEMBER

The field of pale long grass dotted by wild flowers, bends and sways in time with the distant waves far below the cliffs, its waters cold and black, its peaks bright white. There is no distinction between the sound of the wild, hidden shoreline and the wind whipping through the blades of grass which spread out like that wide sea far into the distance. This place is untamed, and completely unbothered by her.

She is sitting, still as a stone in its middle, like a fixed spot in time.

She, is soft morning beauty, and quiet, contemplative grace. She should seem out of place along the lonely Sokovian coast but instead it is hard to imagine her any where else but here.

She is the vision of life and love and a second chance at both, and she, is you.

The Baron is watching as you take a deep, slow breath of the country air, so clear and easy to inhale that it makes you a little sad to know that this has been here all along and you are only just beginning to explore it.

The city was wonderful in so many ways when it was all you’d ever known, but out here you realize just how shut in you’ve been, living between the press of stone and steel, breathing in the thick smoke of industry.

When the Baron first asked you to come, you’d feared leaving the excitement, pollution or not, but one look into his eyes and you’d been persuaded. You would do anything just to see them shine and his love had burned as bright as the sun when you said yes.

“Are you hungry? Breakfast is ready.”

Helmut’s voice is soft as the morning wind that lifts your hair and strokes your cheek. You’d felt his presence but only now do you turn to look up at him and find the man gazing down at you in his morning finery. A jacket and vest, the gold chain of his pocket watch catching the faint sunlight, his boots black and shining in the grass. Even at this hour he is every bit the Baron.

You feel next to naked in the white nightgown you’d snuck out in, but you wanted to feel the air on your skin and the earth beneath your feet. Sokovia should be experienced with all of the senses. You’d decided this the moment you arrived, and while your unrefined ways will be the talk of the servants quarters, you could not care less what they whisper about. This is your home now and you wish to know it.

“I am actually.” You answer and do little to hide your smile as you think to yourself that after last night, you could eat him out of house and home, but you’re too shy to say this out loud. However Helmut is an astute man and reads your face easily. He knows what you’re thinking of which draws out his own smile and he extends his hand to help you up.

When you are on your feet and at his side, he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you close to lead you back towards the stone wall that separates his land from the fields and cliffs and sea.

“You’re feeling well?” He asks, eyes fixed ahead though you can hear his sweet concern for you. You know why he’s asking, and a shiver of pleasure shoots through your belly as you shut your eyes remembering.

He held your wrists tighter as he thrust into you, faster, harder— it is overwhelming, but you love him— you cling to him, awed that this works, that he fits. A tear streams down the side of your face as you gasp wanting to scream from the sheer joy of it.

“Perfectly.” You answer opening your eyes and feeling a flush as you glance up. The memory makes your breath shallow as you speak. “I’ve never known such a perfect morning.” You hope he understands how deeply you mean it. The absolute only thing that compares, is the feeling of euphoria that washes over you while onstage. It happens just as you’ve completed an aria and the audience sits in silence, too overcome by your voice to react until they finally break out into applause. That, is what loving him, and being loved feels like.

As you walk together he leans over to kiss the top of your hair, still wild from sleep. He feels the same sort of untethered joy in this morning as you. The way he inhales your scent makes your heart flutter.

“I realize” He says walking upright again. “I don’t know what you like for breakfast, so I’ve had the cook prepare a little of everything for you to try.”

Your eyes dart up in the direction of the house. From here you can only see the east tower peaking up over the crest of the walled hill. “That’s so much trouble! I only need something small, an egg, a piece of toast.” You shrug.

Helmut laughs and shakes his head at you. He reaches and lays the hand not wrapped around your waist against your face bringing you close so that he may kiss your cheek. “A small breakfast may have been enough for you, the singer. But not you, the Baroness.” He says playfully, lips still touching your skin.

You melt against his warmth and think that while he may be right, it doesn’t matter. You like eggs and toast. “And as the new Baroness, I’ve decided on eating what I always have.” You say with your best voice of authority. “Wait.”

He halts the march towards home and looks down at you, his brow raised as he waits.

“I’d like some jam too actually. Mmm Raspberry.” You sigh and shut your eyes.

Helmut truly laughs now stepping around to block your path just before the break in the wall. “You can have all the raspberry jam in Sokovia. Please, Voljena, darling girl allow yourself to enjoy this life, it is yours for as long as you draw breath.” He says softly with his hands on either side of your face. “I know, it will take time to adjust, but I only want to see you happy."

You hold onto his wrist, sliding your hand over the back of his larger one. “Helmut… Happy is such a simple word, it’s a shame there isn’t a better one. I feel so many things all at once. But I promise I will say the words I feel in my heart as soon as I know them.”

His worry melts away to a look of content and he leans in to kiss you.

When his hands migrate down to your shoulders, his thumb stroking the soft line of your collar bone, he pulls away and glances down, chuckling softly. “As beautiful as you look out here in your nightgown, perhaps a coat next time?”

You laugh and blush embarrassment. “I like the cool air. And I thought I could come and go before anyone noticed I’d gone.”

He shakes his head and holds the back of your neck, “I knew. I felt the bed empty.” He says, his gaze slowly moving across your face, lingering on your lips.

You feel your knees go a bit weak. He does know how to make a woman feel wanted with the simplest of words. “I’m sorry I woke you.” You say, secretly happy to know that your absence was enough to rouse him.

“No, no don’t apologize. I’m pleased to see that you want to know my homeland.”

“Yes, but its mine now too, isn’t it?” You ask glancing out at the beautifully moody landscape.

Helmut nods and looks you over as though the love he feels physically hurts in the best of ways. “Yes, all of it. Everything I have is yours moja ljubavi” He whispers and kisses you again.

My love. Each time he says it you feel your heart swell.

He pulls you close in a way that sparks more memories of last night. They flicker, quick as a candles flame —his elegant fingers turning to fists as he pulls your nightgown over your head leaving you naked and vulnerable. But Helmut is kind and gentle as he touches parts of you that have been aching for this. He kisses and strokes, grabs and pulls until you lay on the bed nearly begging for him— you had not known that you could want something you’d never had so badly until last night.

When he takes your waist in hand now and turns you around so that he can walk you to the wall, your back finds the stones and he kisses you with a renewed enthusiasm. His mouth dragging from your lips to kiss along your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

You shut your eyes and run your fingers through his thick hair as he makes his way to your breast, your nipples pushing against the thin cotton of your shift, their color showing through the nearly sheer fabric and even you can see how badly they long for his attention.

“I want you here.” You breathe, pushing your head back against the wall, moaning from the anticipation.

Helmut glances up at you. The heavy look of desire in his eyes is a reflection of your own. He takes your left side in hand, lifting to suck your sensitive flesh through the material and you bite your lip, little moans and shivers your uncontrollable response to his mouth on your covered breast.

Releasing your nipple which now feels cold without his attention, Helmut reaches down and gathers your shift, raising until your lower half is exposed.

Your eyes meet.

Helmut's smile so often walks the thinnest of lines, you imagine he could so easily go towards darkness especially with what you know him to be capable of. But you are drawn to this and to him like a moth to the flame.

Holding your breath, you wait. Wanting him, completely unsure and a little afraid of what it is he will do. And then you feel his hand, warm and strong rub down over your mound of silky  hair to the soft skin below; the gold ring on his little finger is cool against your skin.

He strokes a small circle with his fingers pressed close together, much like he did in bed, watching you to see your reaction. You try to hold back but even this simple stimulation feels so good that your mouth opens with a sound you thought you could only make under the cover of night.

Helmut smiles wider and nods for you to take the hem of your shift. “Hold it up.” He says. You quickly grip the night dress tight against your stomach as he goes to his knees —lord, in his beautiful trousers, you grin— and looks up at you, but not at your face.

The way he stares boarders on sacrilegious. He kneels before your alter of lovely folds and glistening skin like a man seeking penance before the only true thing he believes in.

His thumb strokes, parting you just enough that he may tease himself with the view and you hear him humming a deep moan. He takes hold of your ankle and moves your leg out so that your thighs are farther apart before using both hands to spread you, exposing your most intimate places to the wind and you toss your head back, holding onto his shoulders as he dives in to praise you as you’ve never felt before.

This did not happen last night.

You gasp loudly—shocked and resistant— but he grabs your thighs, sliding his hands up and around to your backside, holding you tight, burying his face in the heat of your center until you fear he won’t be able to breath… and then he starts to move his mouth and you think, let him die if this is how he goes.

Laughing as you moan, your eyes roll shut, feeling his tongue swirl and lap, exploring and playing as much as he is working towards something.

You’ve heard of this? Heard the other theatre girls laughing about the skill of the different Lords who see your kind as fair game, but you’ve managed to avoid their honeyed words and empty promises, instead dedicating your life to your singing.

But this man… every word from his lips has been as true as his tongue.

He starts to suck at that place only you have ever touched before last night and when the perfectly crude movements combine with the trust and love you cary for him, you realize what it is he wants to make happen.

It almost did before, but you were so overwhelmed and nervous. It was incredible to know that you could make him climax, powerful even. But how would he ever be able to do the same for you when you needed more than he did.

Now you understand.

With your hands full of the shift and his hair, you feel the pressure begin to mount. Opening your eyes you look out past the field to the distant water that looks as calm and still as the sky. Helmut is rolling his tongue around the peak of your clitoris slowly, so slowly you can’t stand it. It makes you want to scream and you feel your chest tighten as you tilt your hips forward urging him to never stop.

So this is what it feels like…

You dare to look down, watching his head move which makes you smile with a rush of love and appreciation for his efforts. A gasping laugh rushes from your lungs as he runs his tongue from opening to peak, and you catch a glimpse of his mouth wet and shining when he pulls back to take a breath.

You involuntarily moan his name and pull at his hair, needing more with an urgency you will be ashamed to admit to when this is over, but for now it’s all you want.

You feel him chuckle against your skin before continuing. He sucks your clitoris into his mouth and batters it with his tongue until you can only cling to him and let the wind carry the loudest of your cries away from the keen ears of the servants just behind the wall.

The rise begins again, and though you've known it before—alone in your bed, quietly sighing into the dark— this is new and as your body insists you feel it not only there but seemingly everywhere, you succumb to the wonderful shock of your first given orgasm.

Pulsing against his mouth, your eyes fixed on the sea as you come, you fight the urge to fall to the ground as your thighs flex against his face while Helmut laps at your tight entrance. He swallows your sticky sweetness as though it is the elixir to long life.

When he does finally pull away, you drop your shift and wrap your arms around his neck and head, thankful for his strong and steady arms that hold you up.

Helmut lets go with one arm to run the back of his hand across his mouth with a smile. He looks up at you, and suddenly the strongest urge to taste yourself on his lips takes hold which surprises you. But the moment you bend and kiss him, you understand why.

There are so many levels to the connection between the two of you. Of course it is not new, this sort of love, but it is the first time you have ever felt it.

You inhale as you kiss and the sense of there being no start to him or end to you is intoxicating. There is only this single union that your love has formed.

Of course I’m happy— you think back to his heartfelt request before you’d both forgotten about breakfast— I am loved and satisfied. I am your wife.

[meujwaraworld]

"Men are Liars", says Mom

“Men are Liars”, says Mom

The Queen with her Princes So my mom enjoys Moja love stories, I totally take after her. So she made a comment that went like “I don’t understand why women allow themselves to be used by men”. She went on to bash one of my brother’s baby mamas for allowing herself to be used by her son. I had to jump in and ask why the son concerned is not the one at fault for playing with girls’ feelings and…

[swanified]

Oh, Poland!

I’m not a storyteller but I would like to share my experiences in Poland, being able to further my studies here was really unexpected, let alone being the only Malaysian in a beautiful serene “student city” called Lublin.

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

Tak? No?

I was sitting at the back of a Polish couple on my first flight to Lublin. Smooth touchdown, seat belt sign went off, it was then I overheard their phone call. “Tak, tak..No, uhuh, no.” while smiling and nodding vigorously. Funny thing is, how can he still afford to giggle when saying “no”. I’m not sure about you, but no is a strong word.

On top of that, “tak” means no in my native language which adds up to more confusion. Why so much of negativity in a single call, man?

Here goes the part where I regret not learning some basic polish words before leaving. As soon as I knew the meaning of these two words, I started giggling like a child. How silly of me. I never thought “tak” would mean the total opposite of malaysian “tak” here. Up till now, I am still hesitant to say “tak” without being too expressive.

Therefore, I am sorry for being too judgemental about your phone call, man on the plane. Przepraszam.

My love, Pierogi

Yes, you read it right! It was rather love at first bite. The first few weeks of being in Lublin has really changed my appetite. Back in Malaysia, my daily diet consists of meat and abundant amount of rice for almost every meal. Shocking? Fret not, that’s a staple Asian diet. However, Poland is the contra of an Asian diet. Rice are sold in XS size packaging, few bottled spices, and halal meat needs to be specially ordered from Warsaw. Also, spiciness of food is not promoted. I calmed myself down, feeling lost as I thought my taste buds were going to lose its senses.

Enough drama! I survived, people. Somehow, I managed to adapt to a healthy polish diet. It’s not a surprise to see Polish people are able to maintain their figure regardless of age.

Worrying phase ended when I was introduced to pierogi by a local Polish friend. At first sight, pierogi looks very similar to a Malaysian snack called “curry puff” but differs in the method of cooking. My all time favourite will always be the classic “pierogi ruskie” with potato and cheese fillings. Some days when I am terribly busy, pierogi comes to the rescue. It is an easy dish and affordable for all students. Oh my love, my saviour, the great Pierogi!

Campus Life

Now that I’m in my final year of studies, all I can say that I’m well taken care of. Almost feeling extra special sometimes. I enjoyed all of my subjects and rarely missed any classes. That’s how passionate I am. VPU made sure that all students are in good hands and has improved vastly throughout the academic years. From recognising a certified International Student Union (ISU) and towards a better facilitated classrooms, we, as students take note of the efforts done. Good job, VPU!

No, this is not a sponsored post! Oh my God, just speaking about campus got me all nerdy.

Eww, Nur. Let’s accelerate to something more exciting.

I’ve had handful of lecturers who are concern of my well being. Beyond classroom, they told me to regard them as a godmother. Hey, what can I say. Having a good first impression is the key. *wink* Out of all, I have always been fond of one. She’s extraordinary. When we bumped into each other, no matter what the crowd is, she will greet me warmly with a long hug and kisses my cheeks. She will then hold my face while saying, “moja kochana, moja kochana”. It means my love. She doesn’t speak much english, therefore she’s one of my main motivation to learn polish. I wish I have more classes with her. She’ll always be close to my heart.

[bloojayoolie]

Andrew Bogut, Cats, and Children: SHE'S A LITTLE BIT COUNTRY, A LITTLE BIT CITY, A LITTLE BIT ROCK N' ROLL! MOJA VE 10.53702.5 YRS 53 LBS. OF JOYI A LOVEBUG WAITS EOR YOU MANHATTAN ACC INTAKE DATE – 1/29/2019 She’s a little bit country, a little bit city, and a little bit Rock n’ Roll! <3 MOJAVE is a little bit of everything, but mostly, she is a lover! Her tail is always wagging, she’s eager to see her friends when they come to take her for walks, and she lives for the play yard where she shows off her incredible athletic skills. To see her jump, leave the earth, and catch a ball mid-air in flight is breathtaking. But wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, she runs back to you for approval, pets, hugs and another throw, her sweet face begging you “please, pretty please, throw the ball again?” We all adore this adorable little girl who rocks buffalo plaid and a silken scarf simultaneously. A lady, a tomboy, a world class athlete, are you worthy of her greatness? 😊 If so, hurry and MESSAGE our page or email us at MustLoveDogsNYC@gmail.com for assistance fostering or adopting her. This sweetheart deserves a family of her own. MY VIDEO: Playful Mojave https://youtu.be/jAMM-JJ_Zxg MOJAVE, ID # 53702, @ 5 Yrs. Old, 53.4 lbs. Manhattan ACC, Medium Mixed Breed, Gray / White, Unaltered Female Owner Surrender Reason: Stray Shelter Assessment Rating: Medical Behavior Rating: 1. Green MEDICAL EXAM NOTES DVM Intake Exam. Estimated age: ~4-5yrs based on PE. Microchip noted on Intake? scanned negative. placed by LVT. History : stray. Subjective / Observed Behavior - BAR, loose body and tail wagging throughout. Energetic. Requires restraint for exam. Food motivated. P had diarrhea with some blood in intake room. Evidence of Cruelty seen – none. Evidence of Trauma seen – none. Objective: BCS 5/9. EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted. Oral Exam: dc 1/5; pd 2/5. PLN: No enlargements noted. H/L: No murmur ausculted; CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic. ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated. U/G: intact female. no scar or tattoo seen. MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat. CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities. Rectal: externally normal. Assessment: diarrhea r/o dietary indiscretion, intestinal parasites, stress colitis, other, dental disease. Prognosis: excellent. Plan: WD food only x 7 days proviable 1 capsule PO q24h x x 7 days, recheck in 3 days. if no improvement, add metronidazole. fecal exam. SURGERY: Okay for surgery *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** If you would like to adopt a NYC ACC dog, and can get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process, you can contact the shelter directly. We have provided the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan information below. Adoption hours at these facilities is Noon – 8:00 p.m. (6:30 on weekends) If you CANNOT get to the shelter in person and you want to FOSTER OR ADOPT a NYC ACC Dog, you can PRIVATE MESSAGE our Must Love Dogs page for assistance. PLEASE NOTE: You MUST live in NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Northern VA. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a NYC ACC dog. Transport is available if you live within the prescribed range of states. Shelter contact information: Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email adopt@nycacc.org Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309 *** NEW NYC ACC RATING SYSTEM *** Level 1 Dogs with Level 1 determinations are suitable for the majority of homes. These dogs are not displaying concerning behaviors in shelter, and the owner surrender profile (where available) is positive. Some dogs with Level 1 determinations may still have potential challenges, but these are challenges that the behavior team believe can be handled by the majority of adopters. The potential challenges could include no young children, prefers to be the only dog, no dog parks, no cats, kennel presence, basic manners, low level fear and mild anxiety. Level 2 Dogs with Level 2 determinations will be suitable for adopters with some previous dog experience. They will have displayed behavior in the shelter (or have owner reported behavior) that requires some training, or is simply not suitable for an adopter with minimal experience. Dogs with a Level 2 determination may have multiple potential challenges and these may be presenting at differing levels of intensity, so careful consideration of the behavior notes will be required for counselling. Potential challenges at Level 2 include no young children, single pet home, resource guarding, on-leash reactivity, mouthiness, fear with potential for escalation, impulse control/arousal, anxiety and separation anxiety. Level 3 Dogs with Level 3 determinations will need to go to homes with experienced adopters, and the ACC strongly suggest that the adopter have prior experience with the challenges described and/or an understanding of the challenge and how to manage it safely in a home environment. In many cases, a trainer will be needed to manage and work on the behaviors safely in a home environment. It is likely that every dog with a Level 3 determination will have a behavior modification or training plan available to them from the behavior department that will go home with the adopters and be made available to the New Hope Partners for their fosters and adopters. Some of the challenges seen at Level 3 are also seen at Level 1 and Level 2, but when seen alongside a Level 3 determination can be assumed to be more severe. The potential challenges for Level 3 determinations include adult only home (no children under the age of 13), single pet home, resource guarding, on-leash reactivity with potential for redirection, mouthiness with pressure, potential escalation to threatening behavior, impulse control, arousal, anxiety, separation anxiety, bite history (human), bite history (dog) and bite history (other). New Hope Rescue Only Dog is not publicly adoptable. Prospective fosters or adopters need to fill out applications with New Hope Partner Rescues to save this dog.