#she has a harness for walks but shes very slow so in the yard so we just hover over her

[despazito]

Noble creature having supervised yard time

[luninosity]

What is your secrets to have/had cats that live a long healthy life? Like foods, environment, etc. Did they all spayed/neutered, had their vaccines, annual health exams for seniors? I have 14 yo cat and i want her to be with me as long and as healthy as possible. Thank you

That's pretty much what it is, yep! :-)

Our kitties (ours now, and my parents' cats that I grew up with) have always been indoor cats (sometimes, under supervision, they can go in the backyard - fenced-in-yard - on a leash and harness; one of my parents' cats will ride in a stroller when they go for long walks, but the others get too stressed!). They're all spayed or neutered, they have all their shots, they get annual vet visits (more often if there's something that looks worrying, like when we thought Merlyn was losing weight, and she was!) and kitten or senior care (food, meds) as needed.

We try to do a lot of playtime (it naturally slows down as they age, but we want to keep them active) and keep them engaged - Merlyn likes to run and chase, so we have a lot of strings, feathers on sticks, wiggly things she can hunt! Sir Percival liked more pounce-and-kick-and-eviscerate play. :-)

We have a lot of treats, especially as they get older - especially Merlyn, right now, as she puts back on some weight! She's also very picky about variety of flavors (and senior cats need stronger flavors, as their taste buds dull a little) - she likes most things, but she gets bored, so we have to switch flavors of food! She gets wet food because it's better hydration, which is important as they get older - she has a little bowl of dry food too, but she doesn't actually like dry food all that much, so she'll really only eat it if we've both been gone most of the day and she's hungry!

I know we're lucky in that we have enough income that, when the vet says, "she needs this medication," we can say, "okay, let's do that" - not everyone can! (And honestly there's probably an upper limit, we're not, like, rich...but...we would do everything we reasonably could, and we would adjust a people-food budget to save money if we had to.) (As a pre-teen, like eleven or so, I once sat right there and watched my dad spend over $5k in one night, at one vet emergency care hospital, trying to save one of their rescues who had an out-of-the-blue, completely unpredictable, heart attack at four years old. He told them to try everything and not worry about the cost. And then he worked three overtime shifts later at his job. Which tells you a lot about my parents and their attitude toward their cats...)

I suspect we're also lucky that we both have some applicable skills - Awesome Husband is a doctor's kid and knows a lot about various medications and isn't afraid to get messy (say, if something causes diarrhea), and my mom worked as a vet tech for a few years - some of their rescue cats have been little enough that she's bottle-fed them, raised them, all of that. And I used to be a lifeguard (with applicable first-aid, including animal CPR, training and such) and I'm not at all bothered by needles - so between us we were fine doing things like giving Percy fluid injections at home, when his kidneys got so bad.

So I guess that last piece of advice is...if that's something that might come up, with an elderly kitty, maybe practice things like injections in case you need to?

But it sounds like you are an awesome Cat Parent already, given the question! <3 And Miss Merlyn says hi to your kitty, too!

[troublesjunkyard]

So I technically had my first day of work? I was there from 9:00 - 11:40 But they had me get my fingerprint scanned so I could clock in/out and had me go over all the guidelines. The manager then sent me home and said she would text me my schedule.

I almost was late too. I got halfway down the second street when I realized I had forgotten a piece of paper that I needed, so I had to turn back. After grabbing the paper, I walked out the door and went to close it when Amicus ran out the door. (He is not a runner, he just likes to be outside w/ me.) I tried to pick him up, but he laid down, and because I was trying to get him inside as fast as possible, I was holding the screen door open.

That was a mistake. As soon as I got Amicus inside, Chaos ran out and he was too fast so I couldn't grab ahold of his harness. So I then had to wrangle him. (We aren't sure if he's a runner or not.) Chaos made it outside and was like "WooHoo! I'm outside in the front yard! Let's run around in circles before doing zigzags!" (Luckily he didn't run out of our yard.) After finally catching Chaos and putting him inside, I was able to shut and lock the door.

So that was very stressful. Both Amicus and Chaos chose the one day that I needed to leave and not be late so I had a job, to fuck up my day.

THIS IS NOT SOMETHING THEY NORMALLY DO! Amicus is very good at listening and usually stays inside until I give him the okay to come out. And Chaos has been learning to stay when you say stay.

...

They could have done this any other day. But they chose today to do it.

Probably because I left, and that would have been the first time I have left (without leaving with my mom right next to me) with my mom already gone (and leaving them all alone.) So when I came back and tried to leave again, they were like "Okay guys, operation 'Keep Dakota here with us all day like normal' is a go!"

Oh yeah, I don't have a car nor a driver's license or even a permit, so I had to walk. The McDonald's was 16 minutes away. (In walking distance to our house.)

I left at 8:32 and realized I forgot the paper and turned back at 8:34. I left the house the second time (after wrangling the dogs) at 8:38.

Sure that is enough time. There are easily more than 16 minutes from 8:38 - 9:00. But you also have to factor in traffic.

I have to cross a not-very-busy street (most of the time) to get to the hospital parking lot. I then take the H p-l into the Braum's (a fast food place) p-l (fast food parking lot means watch out for cars.) I then have to take B p-l to the main street. I have to wait for the crosswalk to be safe to cross, cross, then I have to wait again to cross to the other side. (I have to cross twice to get two the McD.)

So I made it to the McD at 9:00 on the dot. If I had left any later, I would have been late.

Luckily, I know the route very well since I take the same route to get home from school if I walk.

I pass by the McD, cross the street, cross the street again, walk through the B p-l into the H p-l, walk through the H p-l to the side road, cross the side road to get to the neighborhood roads and then travel down the neighborhood street to get to my street and to my house.

So I at least had familiarity with the route so I wasn't slowed down even more by being unsure if I was going the right way.

...

"When life gives you lemons" make extra sour lemonade so you can throw it into the eyes of your enemies.

Or something along those lines.

(ˉ▽ˉ；)... so much text- sorry I had to read it three times.

Damn... what a day... But at least you made it hooray!

I hope it will go well for you (*^▽^*)

I had my last work day today, so I've got some free days now, yay!

[ghost-at-the-masquerade]

Taking the Day Off

Rated T, 3,724 words

Summary: Link and Riju have a (mostly) fun day out

A/N: This is not shippy and you are not welcome to read it as such

Stinging sand pelts any bit of exposed skin it can find and sings off their golden shinguards. Scorching desert air whips past their face, hot even with the shield of cooling magic drifting down from their headband.

Ahead of them, Riju’s hair whips wild and free. She laughs and lifts her fingertips into the air like she’s skimming them over the surface of a pond. No crown or jewelry today, just long, baggy clothes in brilliant red, purple and gold.

The two are headed northwest, out from the shadow of the city. Nowhere to go and no one to answer to. Riju guides them past the dangers of the desert with ease, even with its landmarks few and far between. Weaving between pillars on their way toward the ruins, slowing her breakneck pace only to regale them with the the names and glories of the weathered statues they passed.

Grand, statuesque heroines and goddesses uncommon to the mainland. Resonu, conquerer of sandstorms, who tricked the wind into hiding their secrets; Sabis, the goddess who cleaved the stone of the valley and allowed the Gerudo into the rest of Hyrule.

Link studies their crumbling faces and missing weapons, and they have to ask, “But why are they in such a state…?”

“It’s a kind of… symbolic thing. Allowing them to return to the land, in their own time.”

Still, the concern didn’t quite all fall away at first.

“Don’t worry, they’re not forgotten - statues are not how we record history.” She laughed and hurried Patricia along once again.

They reach the depths of the ruins, sheltered by the bleached bones of ancient things and the shadow of the highland.

“We believe they’re a migrant cousin of the Dodongo,” Riju says, running a reverent hand over one massive vertebrae, “native to Death Mountain and speculated to have a cousin in Hebra as well.

Their gut clenched at the very idea of something that big ever lurking in the sand, like the molduga. “What happened to them?”

“Of course the obvious answer is that they died off, but some of our scholars think they may have shrunk instead, as they moved out deeper into the desert.”

“Shrunk?” They signed with a laugh, one which Riju echoed.

“Yes, well, maybe that’s not the way to put it. If Hebra has anything in common with a volcano, it’s mineral-rich stone. But they wouldn’t have that here. So they became smaller to compensate the lack of food.”

“Why not just move back?”

She shrugged, “The ways of beasts are never truly known.”

At last they slowed to a stop under the watchful eye of a stone swordswoman. Unhooking from their mounts, they stuck their shields upright in the sand. Stepping up onto the hot sandstone of her base, they sat together in her shadow.

Riju stuck her canteen upright in the sand in front of her and pulled a bag from her hip, untying it and laying the cloth out on her lap. Inside lay her midday meal, for which she had packed a small spread of cooked meats, seared veggies and sweet wild berries.

Link pointed to the berries and asked, “Dalia’s garden?” before turning to dig through their own pouch, feeling through its endless depths for the right pocket.

“Yes, she was very excited for her first harvest and insisted I should have some. I still don’t know how she gets them to grow here, they rarely even survive the trip from the bazaar.” She says, biting into one in earnest. She spoke through a shameless mouthful,  “They were my favorite as a child.”

They laughed softly and considered telling her she still was one, but thought better of it. Instead they pulled a hydromelon from their pouch, setting it between their feet. They drew a guardian sword with a bit of flourish, halving the melon with a satisfying ‘chunk’. Juice seeped down and disappeared into the sand. Link offered half to Riju, who tossed it to her seal. Patricia barked happily at the treat.

Flicking the juice from the blade, they put it away, returning the two to companionable silence as they watched the shimmering distance and the slow progression of shadows across the sands. Every now and again, a hot desert breeze flapped a bit of cloth or hair, a quiet third companion while they ate.

When she was done, Riju used a bit of her water to wash her hands of the berry juice. She dried them with the cloth that had held her lunch before securing it to her belt again, then stood and stretched her legs, watching Link with a lopsided smile as they opted instead to suck their fingers clean.

“That’s rather childish.”

“Says you.” They puffed out their cheeks and pointed at her, poking fun at her lack of manners earlier.

She gave a good-natured huff and didn’t respond further, tapping her foot.

They laughed, rising and prying both of their shields from the sand, handing Riju hers.

Riju called the seals, who had been playing and chasing each other just a little ways away. Clipping in, they were off again, headed further west after deciding it best to steer clear of the old Yiga base, even if it had been abandoned. Far enough to clear the boneyard before swerving south, staying far from the stone cliff that marked a known molduga nest. A dust cloud could be seen on the horizon.

The distant nest disappeared behind a dune and small clusters of cacti came into view. Link slowed their seal, dropping behind a few yards and pulling an ornate golden bow from their back. They nocked an arrow and let fly as they passed a row of cacti, piercing one of the fruits, the momentum ripping it from its root and sending it flying. They grabbed the arrow by the shaft as they passed, jerking it free and frowning at the sand caked into the juice that had leaked out.

Riju laughed at them as they caught up. “Watch this.” She said, and she called to Patricia, veering hard to the right, up a steep dune. She crested the mound and jumped, snagging one of the fruits mid-air.

She swerved lazily, proudly back and forth as she rejoined them.

“Not bad.”

“At least you can eat this one.” She said, tossing it to them.

They put both it and the one they had attempted to clean away before signing, “I think you can do better.”

“Oh do you?” She said, and when they nodded she continued, “I might have another trick up my sleeve.”

Before they could even goad her, she was moving fast up the next large dune and Link had to hurry to see what she would do next.

Riju launched herself sidelong into the air, snapping up her line so that she unhooked herself from Patricia, doing a quick spin. Amazingly, she stuck the landing, but failed to snap back into Patricia’s harness and the momentum left her spiraling into a face-full of sand.

When Link slowed to a stop beside her, she popped up on her hands and knees, smiling, “It actually almost worked! That’s the closest I’ve ever gotten!”

Link laughed and cheered, offering her a hand up. “Very impressive. But no fruit.”

She stuck her tongue out and kicked a bit of sand in their direction before walking back over to Patricia. Link just laughed again while they waited for her.

There wasn’t time to turn and see. And even if there had been, there wouldn’t have been time to run. The sand beneath them burst open, exploding upward in a great shower of earth and taking Link with it, while Riju was thrown aside.

Time slowed for a split second at the crest of her flight, hung sideways in the air while she tried to make sense of anything that was happening. Then Riju landed, hard, rolling only a few precious feet away. She whipped her aching head up and watched, wide-eyed, horrified as Link was snapped up in the mighty jaws of the molduga with a wet crack. The line severed, their terrified seal dropped back to the sand, where it bolted for the safety of town.

Riju scrambled away, the sand swelling as the beast returned to the depths and sent her tumbling head over heels. Faithful Patricia met her where she fell and Riju grabbed the harness, letting herself be dragged away.

There was little else but desert around her now - the empty expanse between the ruins and the uninhabitable. She urged Patricia back the way they had come, toward the ruins, as she could feel the beast rumbling somewhere below, following them and gaining speed. Her heart raced, her breathing came through clenched teeth, her legs stinging with pins and needles.

In what felt like just the nick of time, Patricia threw herself onto another square of sandstone, taking Riju with her. Girl and seal huddle together beneath the statue, Riju’s fingers balled in Patricia’s mane. For long moments, she hears nothing but her own pulse in her ears. The molduga’s trail stops just a few yards behind them.

This is not a known nest. The earth here is too hard, too uneven, too cool for an adult to move through. Though judging from the size of the trail it left, that was just it; it was a juvenile, more reckless and less predictable than its elders.

With that perspective on her situation, Riju surveyed the area, judging the distance between rocks, wondering if there was any way they could move between them fast enough, wondering how long and how far it would follow, wondering if she could ever get out. She pulled the sword from her hip, held it tight in a shaking fist. She could defend herself - but a sword was almost nothing against the tough hide of a molduga, even a young one. There was a system to taking one down, one she knew but had no tools for.

Even as she thought of her own survival, her final glimpse of her friend in the jaws flashed before her eyes. She whispers a prayer for them, but cannot bring herself to close her watering eyes.

Her breath catches in her throat as the thing’s shovel-jaw breaks the surface once more. Thrashing and squealing, plumes of dark smoke escaping with every cry. She dares not hope - but then there they are. There’s hardly a patch on them not bloodied, but they’re there, still moving, hands and feet braced precariously between jagged teeth, whole body shaking with the effort to keep the jaws from coming down. Riju jerks up onto one knee, but her legs give out under the weight of fear and helplessness. Even from here she can hear Link’s ragged, frightened breathing.

She blinks and the molduga’s mouth had snapped shut, but somehow, Link is on the other side, thrown out on the sand on their stomach. Her own voice sounds distance in her ears as she calls out to Patricia.

Staying as low to the ground as she can, she has Patricia whip her out in a sharp u-turn, just close enough to snag Link under the arms. There’s not a second to spare while the beast recovers, spewing the last of the smoke. She grits her teeth and has to adjust her footing, but she can manage the weight. The three tumble onto the stone in another heap. Somewhere behind them, the enraged molduga burrows.

Riju’s hearing comes back into sharp focus, wide eyes darting over her fallen friend as she pulls back from them. There’s too much, it’s too much, says the static in her brain as she scrabbles for their pouch, for whatever hope it might hold.

She stops when suddenly there’s a soft blue light that grows in strength. A thousand-thousand tiny threads that coalesce. She’s frozen as she watches, as she hears a soft voice, so faint she’s not quite sure she really heard it. The light and the threads envelop and sink into their figure. Link picks themself up, whole again. They touched their head gingerly, shaking it to clear their vision. Their face lit up when they saw her.

“Riju!” They croaked out, before switching back to signing, fingers shaking and a relieved laugh on their lips, “Thank every goddess and sage, you’re alright, I wasn’t sure- couldn’t see-”

“I’m alright?!” She sputtered, flabbergasted, unable to decide if she should play it off or be annoyed or just thankful. She chose instead to throw her arms around them, squeezing with all her might. She pushed them out to arm’s length again - then yanked them closer to the statue. “Why aren’t you dead?!”

“… That’s not a very nice thing to ask.”

“It ate you!” She gestured to all of them with an open hand.

Link smiled sheepishly, shrugging helplessly, “That happens.”

Riju opened her mouth to answer but decided against it, switching instead to the issue at hand. “We need to get out of here.”

Their expression steeled and they gave a firm nod. They rose to their feet and turned to scan the rocks, much as Riju had done, then pulled out their map. Riju stood close behind, watching as they zoomed in close and slowly scrolled through the area. There were areas of hard, raised earth and old structures dotted along for a good while out east, but after that was a large gap of open desert. They’d have no chance of crossing to the city if the thing followed them that far. And the implications of leading it that close to a densely populated area were terrifying regardless.

Clipping the slate back to their belt, they asked, “How well can you climb?”

Riju looked to the highlands, then back to Link. “Not well enough to climb that, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Link studied the distant wall for a long moment, lips pursed pensively. They could maybe carry her up, but getting back down was another matter - another matter that would probably take a whole extra day of travel, since they had no idea if the glider could handle both their weight, and they’d never risk her safety on it. Never mind the fact that they’d have to leave Patricia behind.

They turned to consider the distance to the city. There was no telling how long it would take for the thing to give up on them. How long they could be stuck in the elements, waiting. Even if Link had plenty of resources in their bags to sustain the both of them through the wait, people would come looking. And people would get hurt.

They turned back to Riju, something unreadable on their face. “We’ll have to kill it.”

“Okay.” Was her answer. Neither eager nor resigned, just a statement of fact.

While they didn’t want to have to involve her, having her on standby for another save could make all the difference. “You get to something more solid, I’m going up there.” They pointed to the nearest skeleton.

She nodded, and before they could say anything else, she was dashing across the sand to an outcropping of stone. Icy anxiety twisted in Link’s gut. Both of them watched the waves of sand intently, hearts racing as it turned and charged in their direction. But she was able to jump up on the outcropping safely, close behind her seal. She knelt to steady herself, holding a hand to her chest as she watched the molduga continue to approach. It skirted far too close to her haven, sitting only feet above the sand. While it shimmied its fin angrily above the surface, it didn’t risk the jump; their vision was generally poor, and a bad jump at hard stone could result in a broken jaw.

Link only relaxed when she turned a smile back to them, the two sharing an awkward, stressed laugh. It was Link’s turn now. They turned their eye to the towering ribcage of something long dead. It was sloped enough that it wouldn’t take much actual climbing, but it would certainly take sure footing, without much room for mistakes. The molduga circled in the distance, searching.

They reached into their pouch, pulling from it a pair of sand boots; the molduga was circling closer now, and they would need every advantage they could get. They downed a rancid potion, too. Geared up, hyped up, they sprinted straight toward the ancient bones, almost immediately regretting not stopping off with Riju; it was closing fast.

Riju choked on her heart, throwing a hand up to shield her face as the sand exploded a second time. Whatever miracle had saved Link the first time, she was sure it couldn’t save them a second time. Fortunately, it didn’t have to, as the beast’s aim was off this time. Instead of snapping them up for an easy snack, it threw them high, almost over the pile of bones. They nearly rolled down the other side, scrabbling and scratching to get a grip, scraping their fingers and breaking nails, but able to hold on.

After the beast had disappeared below once again, Link hauled themself back up top, waving to Riju to let her know they were okay. Then, crouched atop the crest of the skull, Link drew one bomb from the slate, then the other. The round one they held between their legs, the other they tossed to the ground. The moving mound of sand stopped. They had its attention. Link pointed the slate down at it and clicked the trigger, sending up a shower of sand. When the molduga started to move again, they tossed the second bomb into the crater left by the first and waited.

When the molduga breached for what they hoped was the last time, they clicked the trigger again. It shrieked in pain, jerking to the side to land with a thunderous thud. One of its teeth came clean out, flipping away to bury deep in the sand.

Riju and Patricia were on the move before it had settled. She circled around it, looking for a soft spot and, finding none, opted to jam her sword into its underside, starting just under one of its pitiful little legs. It was a struggle, but she managed to pull it along as she passed, leaving a large, bleeding gash. Pulling her curved blade free, she whipped around to make another pass. When she hit the tougher hide toward its jaw, the bade stuck and jerked out of her hand. She muttered a curse and headed back to the relative safety of the rock formation.

Meanwhile, Link had dropped down from on high, putting their weight into the master sword, glinting bright as it pierced the beast above one of its tiny red eyes. Landing on their feet and barely keeping the pommel from jamming into their face, they wrenched the blade free, stabbing it again and again, every thrust going deeper until the molduga let out its last pitiful wail and stopped its pained thrashing. They stumbled and slipped off as it settled.

After taking a moment to catch their breath, Link, ever the scavenger, put away the master sword and got out something shorter. They sawed off some good chunks of the hardy fin cartilage before moving on to widen the gashes Riju had started.

Patricia at her side, Riju stepped closer, still shaking with adrenaline. “Gross.”

Link only shrugged and continued harvesting. Riju couldn’t think of anything else to say. When she retrieved her own sword she found the blade badly dulled, with a chip toward the tip. She returned it to her hip anyway.

After the exhausting chase, Patricia didn’t have the strength to pull them both, and the other seal was long gone, so they made the trek back on foot. The wind returned, ever welcome as they made their way home. Many steps passed in tired silence.

Somewhere about the halfway point, Link gently tapped Riju’s shoulder so they could sign, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

She laughed - she couldn’t help it. “And you should have?”

“My… responsibility.”

Riju shook her head and touched their arm in a way that might have been an aborted shove. “It’s already done now. We made a good team.”

They struggled for a moment longer, but finally agreed, “… We did.”

The sun was all but gone and the chill of night had set in by the time they got back, far later than they were supposed to. Buliara met them outside the walls, clearly doing her best not to seem fretful, and only further losing her composure as soon as she saw the molduga’s blood dried across the both of them.

“What happened?” She demanded, forceful in her worry.

Riju answered, tired but straight to the point, “A juvenile molduga that wandered too far east.”

Buliara took a sharp breath, going stiff in the shoulders.

Riju continued before she could speak, starting them walking toward the gate again, “It is slain. But I want a convoy out in the morning to look for more.”

“Yes, chief. I will inform the guard immediately.”

The pair of guards at the western gate greeted them, stoic as ever, but their relief at Riju’s safe return was betrayed by the set of their shoulders. One of them accompanied the party into the city, staying a few steps behind the chief. At the steps of the palace she split off to tell the captain what had transpired.

Finally back inside the palace, Riju turned back to Link. “Thank you, Link. It was fun, until the part where you got eaten.”

“Same.” They signed with a laugh.

“We’ll have to do it again some time.” She waved as she started up to her room, followed by Buliara.

They waved a second longer than they should have. Then it was just them and the remaining guards in the hall. Link’s ears perked up as a thought occurred to them. After a moment of digging, they offered one of them the bag filled with the molduga’s foul-smelling innards.

The smile she offered in return wasn’t quite as bright as Link’s, but she didn’t hesitate to take it. “Thank you. I trust you know where the baths are?”

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[celtics534]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

You guys said you would like a prequel to Shiver and I loved the universe so much that I had to write one! Hope y’all enjoy! 

In case you haven’t read it, here are the links to Shiver: FF.net and AO3

Read this fic on: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny walked slowly across the uneven lawn, the precariously high pile of plates shaking ominously with every step. The large extended table was only twenty steps away, but Ginny honestly wasn’t sure she’d make it. Damn her mother for forgetting that she was shorter than her brothers and carrying a stack of plates that was practically her height wasn’t a good idea. 

 “Excuse me, have you seen Ginny? Oh, wait you can’t really see anything at the moment can you?” 

 Ginny didn’t need to see in order to recognize the sarcastic tones of her best friend. 

 She stopped moving, wishing her death glare was more effective through objects. “You know if I had a free hand, my fingers would be giving you a little show

 The heavyweight she was holding lightened as Harry’s grinning face came into view. He held half the stack in his hands. “Does your mother know about your anger issues?” 

 Ginny snorted. “Who do you think I get them from.” She looked across the yard to where Ron and twins lounged by the pond. She jerked her chin towards the lazy group. “What pulled you away from the boys’ club?”

  Harry gave a small shrug, making sure his was stack level as they began to walk in unison towards the table. “I saw you struggling and figured someone better prevent a catastrophe. I do hate it when your mother is upset.”

“You’re such a mumma’s boy.” Ginny placed her pile of chinaware gently onto the table. “Even when it’s not your mum!” 

 “You’re just jealous that your mum likes me better than you.” Harry started setting plates into their places. 

 “She only likes you better because you suck up to her.”

“Which gets me fresh biscuits every time I come over, so I think it’s fair to say I’m the real winner here.” 

 Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at his childish grin. “Such a conniving scoundrel, Potter.” 

 “And don’t you forget it, Weasley!”

 Together they placed the final plate and cutlery set in the correct place. Ginny sat down in the end seat, sticking her feet out in front of her. “You know in olden days, you’d probably be marked as a pirate.”

 Harry leaned a hip against the corner of the table as he smirked down at her. “I think I’d prefer the title of marauder. Sounds more mystical and cool.”

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “At least that would be one cool thing about you.” 

 Harry’s jaw fell open in mock consternation. “How dare you. I’ll have you know people think I’m very cool. Hip even.”

 “What liars have you been talking too?”

 “Your mum.”

 That got Ginny. Her deadpan broke as she snorted with laughter. Her head fell back as her giggles took possession of her body. After a moment she looked up at Harry’s smirking face. “My mum is your coolness adviser?”

 Harry nodded emphatically as if she were a fool for questioning it. “Fuck yeah! Molly Weasley is the most fashionable person to walk this Earth.”  

 Ginny had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from encouraging him. “Oh really?”

 Again his nod was certain. “Duh. Who else would I use as a judge of character? I mean you’re great and all, Gin, but you don’t come close to holding a torch to your mum.”

 She stuck her tongue out at him. “Whatever you say, marauder.”

 “See it’s already catching on!” 

 Before Ginny could tell him what else he would catch (a nice dead leg and possible bruise), the woman of the hour shouted from in the kitchen. “Ginny, dear, could you come back and help me?!”

 “Fuck.” Ginny’s muttered curse made Harry laugh. She rose slowly, already dreading whatever task her mother had come up with. Ginny was always selected to help in the kitchen, and it wasn’t due to her Gordon Ramsey like abilities (though she did idolize his impressive vocabulary).  

 “Notice how she didn’t ask me to help.” Harry’s impishly wide grin only got bigger when she gave his shoulder a light push. “Another perk of being the favorite.”

 “This isn’t favoritism, it’s sexism.” Ginny shook her head. “If I had dangly-bits like the rest of you”— Harry snorted, but she ignored him—“I wouldn’t be stuck mixing batter, instead I’d be allowed to kick all your arses on a shoot out." 

 Harry snorted. "Well to be fair, Ron's been off his game ever since he heard Hermione was dating that Bulgaria bloke, so it wouldn't be hard to kick his arse." 

 Ginny smiled at him innocently. "And what's your excuse?" 

 "Hey!" Harry put a hand over his heart as if she'd offended him, but the crooked grin that curled his lips spoke to his amusement. Ginny loved that smile. It suited him perfectly. A little mischievous yet still friendly enough to be trustworthy. And that was Harry. Cheeky and roguish but one of the most honest and reliable people she knew. “I may not be a striker like you but when I shoot, it’s on target.” 

 “That’s what all blokes say, but then they still miss the toilet bowl so forgive me for being skeptical.” 

 Harry choked on his own spit. “Jesus, Gin!” 

 Ginny merely shrugged. “Just calling it how I see it.” Then before he could come up with some cheeky comment that she wouldn’t be able to ignore, Ginny ran off towards the kitchen. 

 Her mother was pulling a tray of buns out of the oven when the screen door shut behind Ginny. Molly didn’t look up to make sure she had the right child before speaking. “Ginny, will you please grab the butter out of the cold box? I want it to have a chance to thaw before setting it on the table.” 

 Sighing, Ginny accepted her fate of being her mother’s helper for the next while. “Sure. Anything else from there you need?”

 “Hmm. We’ll need a lemon. I want to whip up a treacle tart. As you know it’s one of Harry’s favorites.”   

 Ginny couldn’t contain her snort of laughter. “If that boy could eat only one thing for the rest of his life, he’d choose your treacle tart.”

 “Oh, he’s such a sweet lad.” Molly practically gushed as she placed the sheet down on the counter. “I don’t understand how no one has snatched him up yet.” 

 An image of Harry unknowingly, yet still awkwardly, brushing off girls' attempts to flirt with him came to Ginny’s mind. She smiled down at her freshly collected lemon. “It’s a mystery alright.”

 “I mean really! Look at him! He’s handsome, polite, good with kids. What more could a girl want.”

 “You forgot to mention his tendency to knock things over and nearly handicap blindness.” 

 Molly huffed out an annoyed breath. “Those things don’t matter. Besides.” Ginny looked up to see the mischievous glint in her mother’s eyes. “He only seems to knock things over in your presence."

 Ginny sighed. She could hear the suggestion plain as day in her mother's tone. Molly Weasley was never good at subtle hints when it came to the idea of Harry and Ginny getting involved. From the first time Molly met Harry, she'd insisted he was perfect for her daughter. Of course Ginny had told her mother there was nothing going on between herself and Harry, but Molly had just smiled knowingly, winked before whispering, “Yet.”

 And here they were two years later, Molly still shipping them like her favorite people on a soap opera. 

 “Well, I’m not wrong,” Molly said in a sing-song tone. “There’s a reason a boy becomes a klutz in front of only one girl, and I think you know what that reason is.”

 Ginny couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Sure, Mum. Sure.”

 “The sooner you accept it, the happier you’ll be.” Molly moved beside Ginny, who had started to zest the lemon. “I mean just look at him out there with Vic and tell me you don’t feel something.” 

 Ginny glanced up at her dreamy-eyed mother before following Molly’s gaze. Harry was sitting on the grass, his legs crossed in front of him. Victoire, Bill’s one-year-old daughter, sat happily playing peek-a-boo with Harry. Every time Harry hid his face behind his hands, Vic would frown. Then the moment Harry revealed himself, the little girl would clap wildly. Victoire’s laugh carried through the kitchen window. 

 “Yeah, I feel something…” Ginny took a deep breath. “I feel bad for Fleur later when she tries to get those grass stains out of Vic’s white dress.”

 Molly huffed out an exasperated breath of air. “You’re impossible.”  

 “Actually, I feel bad for Bill who’s gonna have to listen to Fleur complain about getting the stains out.”

 Ginny smirked to herself as her mother just shook her head. When Molly walked away, presumably to collect the rest of the ingredients to make the tart, Harry suddenly turned to look at the house. When their eyes met, green and brown, a slow smile curled Harry’s lips. 

 She’d seen that smile a million times. Ginny recognized his dimple that appeared just under the small group of freckles he’d gotten from their weekend beach trip. It was the smile that showed only a few perfect teeth. So if she’d seen it a million times, why did it make her heart thump against her chest?

 Fuck!

 A lump formed in her throat as a shiver ran down her spine. No! No! No!

 Ginny looked away from that adorable grin. No, she couldn’t call it adorable! It was just a smile. She turned her eyes back on the lemon, which in her distraction she had brutalized. Fuck. 

 She’d only thought it was adorable in that way because her mother had influenced her. That had to be it. She’d never thought of Harry in that way before… unprompted into her mind, memories of that cheeky grin over the years made her heart flutter -- Again! 

 Mother fucking tits on a bull!

 Ginny put the zester back onto the counter before falling back into one of the kitchen chairs. What was going on? Why was the thought of Harry’s smiling at her sending her pulse into overdrive? She had known him for years and never felt that rush of… attraction. 

 That’s a lie, Ginny’s inner monologue argued. There had been that time they were at the park and he was pushing her on the swing. While soaring upwards, Ginny had looked over her shoulder and was greeted by a beaming Harry. At the time Ginny had contributed the swooping sensation to the gain in altitude, but looking back on it… 

 A wave of sudden nausea hit Ginny, making her put her head between her knees. She couldn’t like Harry like that. It would ruin everything! Ginny refused to lose her best friend because of some sudden fancy. Because no matter what her mum said, Ginny hadn’t seen any signs from Harry showing he had a… thing for her.   

 “Are you alright, dear?” Molly’s worried tone broke through the panicked discourse going through her mind. 

 She swallowed the lump that had lodged at the base of her throat. “Ye — yeah. I just felt a bit ill for a moment there.” 

 Molly’s hand was instantly pressed to Ginny’s forehead. “Well you don’t have a fever, but you’re paler than a ghost.” She tilted Ginny’s chin up with a finger. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll send someone up to get you when supper is ready.” 

 Ginny took a deep breath. “That sounds good.” She rose slowly onto shaky legs. Taking small, precise steps, Ginny made her way up to her first-floor bedroom. The moment she reached her bed, Ginny plopped face down into her pillows. 

 Her mind couldn’t stop racing. Words like absurd and dangerous rolled around, then an image of his crooked smile would materialize and those phrases would give way to charming and gorgeous. 

 That damn smile! It ruined everything! 

 Ginny shut her eyes, blocking out the little light that broke through the sides of her pillow. She needed to get a grip! It was just a passing fancy, that was all! The next time she saw him, nothing will have changed. It will be him and her. Two Amigos, not one amiga pining after one amigo. 

 “Gin?” 

 Ginny’s eyes shot open as she rolled around to see Harry sitting on the edge of her mattress. Her heart fluttered against her chest as she stared into Harry’s concerned expression. He looked so… precious with that knitted brow and little frown. 

 Fucking hell. Even she couldn’t pretend the butterflies in her stomach were from the little fright he gave her. But it wasn’t because she loved the fact that all that worry was for her. Nope, not at all.  

 Maybe if she lived in a state of constant self deception all of this would go away. 

 His hand came to rest on her knee. The feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth… Get a grip, Ginny! “You feeling better?” 

 Ginny inhaled deeply, refusing to let her conflicted and confused thoughts come out in any shape or form. “I’m feeling… okay.” 

 “You want to come down and eat? If not I can make you up a plate for later.”

 If those butterflies could fucking stop fluttering in her gut, Ginny would greatly appreciate it! She cleared her suddenly obstructed throat. “No, I’ll come down.” 

 His lips curled in a delighted smile as he stood from his post. He offered her a hand up. It took Ginny a full five seconds to muster the courage to take his offer. He heaved her away from her comfortable bed. When he let go of her hand, his arm came to rest around her waist. 

 When she looked up at him, his smile was reassuring. “In case your legs are shaky.”    

 “How are you single?” The question blurted past her lips before her brain could explain why it was a bad idea. “I mean..” she started scrambling for the words to explain. “You do and say things that only boys in films and books do.”

 His brow knitted together as his lips curled in a confused smile. ��Er… I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 “It is one.” Ginny could feel the heat expanding across her cheeks. She was thankful Harry’s focus was on the stairs they were climbing down rather than her glowing face. “I mean — you just always seem to know what to say.”

 “Only when I’m talking with you.”

 Ginny stopped at the base of the stairs, turning to fully look at him. “See! That’s exactly what I mean. If you said that to any girl they’d swoon.” Not a word of a lie there. 

 Harry snorted. “If you say so.” 

 She almost blurted how it had worked on her, but for once Ginny managed to bite her tongue. "Don't know why you said it in that tone, by now you know I'm always right." 

 His laugh was loud in the empty kitchen making yet another rush of fluttering wings beat rapidly in Ginny’s stomach. “How could I forget when you seem to remind me at least once a day.” 

 “Only once? Sounds like I need to increase my quota.” Ginny was proud of the quick cheek. She’d been starting to worry that her usual quick wit was going to take a hit due to… whatever was going on with her. If she’d lost her fast commentary, she would lose a main part of their relationship. 

 They’d started to move out towards the garden table in a compatible silence. Harry’s arm still rested over her shoulder. Ginny could hear her family chattering the moment they stepped out of the house. At that moment, everything felt right to Ginny. She was with the people she loved most and the man beside her… 

 “Hey, Ginny!” George was the first to notice her. “Are you feeling better?” 

 Unconsciously, her eyes drifted up to Harry’s smiling face. A pleasant warmth spread throughout her stomach. “Yeah. I feel better.”

 “Great, because we want you to try one of our new sweets.”

 “No sweets before dinner,” Molly scolded from her end of the table. “We saved you two seats.” She gestured to the only remaining chairs. 

 Ginny took the corner spot while Harry took the chair beside Ron. Harry and Ron had instantly bonded the first time they’d met. They both had a love for sweets and when Ginny had introduced them (Ron had come to visit her at school) the two of them had gone off gallivanting to the local bakery while Ginny was stuck in class. When they’d finally returned to her dorm room, they were besties. They weren’t Harry and Ginny level, but Harry didn’t turn down the chance to get a pint with Ron. 

 As soon as her bum hit the cushion, a bowl was passed into her hands. Different conversations around the table merged so Ginny could only pick up bits and pieces. Her father and Bill were discussing the bank Bill worked at, the twins and Ron were debating who had the best chance to take the premier league, and Percy had somehow roped Fleur into listening about the new regulations he was trying to pass on tube seating. 

 “So, Ginny, are you excited for this semester?” Molly asked as she cut up a chunk of potato.

 Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “I’m getting to take quite a few electives this year. And Harry and I are trying to get into the popular botany class in the spring.”

 “Botany? Really?” Molly’s brow rose. “I didn’t expect you to be interested in such a class.” 

 “It’s supposed to be fascinating,” Harry chimed in, his head turned away from the premier league discussion. “And there is a really interesting educational trip you get to take at the end of the semester.”

 He leaned closer to Ginny, under the pretense of looking at Molly. While Molly oh and awed at the news, Harry’s lips came so close to Ginny’s ear that millions of little shivers ran up and down her spine. “Well, maybe not educational, but definitely interesting.” 

 Warmth hit her neck with every exhale of his lungs. Ginny’s entire back erupted in goose pimples as her breath seemed too shallow. God, she was losing it! She simultaneously wanted to run away and lean closer. 

 In her indecision, Ginny’s body decided to place her elbow on the edge of the table… or what should have been the table. The moment slippery butter cooled her arm, Ginny knew she’d fucked up. 

 Praying that no one noticed, Ginny snatched her arm back, letting it fall to her side. Fucking hell she was a mess!

 “What do you think, Ginny?” Molly asked, thankfully seeming to have missed her daughter’s mishap. 

 “Huh?” Ginny couldn’t focus on anything other than the weird slimy yet oddly dry feeling of her butter covered elbow. 

 “Your mum was just asking if you thought you would be able to help her out in the garden more after the botany class,” Harry supplied. Ginny felt something tickling her knee. She looked down, ready to swash whatever bug dared to challenge her, but only saw Harry’s fingers slyly passing her a napkin. He had noticed her incident… and instead of being a prat like any of her brothers would have been, he just quietly helped. 

 And like that, Ginny quit. She couldn’t fight the feeling anymore. The way Harry was causing her heart to race and her stomach flutter. She fancied him and there was no stopping it. When his hand came around, having successfully handed off the napkin, and gently rested on her back Ginny decided she didn’t want to stop it. 

 As she covertly cleaned off the butter, Ginny nodded absently at her mother. “Sure I can.”

 “That’s lovely!” Ginny stopped listening as Molly chattered, instead she glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eyes. He was smiling contently, seemingly focused on whatever Molly said. He was gorgeous, there had never been any doubting that. Plenty of Ginny’s girlfriends had said as much, but Ginny had always just waved them off saying it was just Harry. 

 Just Harry. That was it. He was Harry, her best friend. She honestly didn’t know a better man, except maybe her saint of a father. Ginny had always loved the way her’s and Harry’s relationship felt so natural… and now here she was going to fuck it all up with… feelings. 

 No! She couldn’t do that. Ginny’s heart sank into her gut. She couldn’t risk her friendship with Harry for anything. Ginny didn’t want to be without him, even if it meant she couldn’t tell him how she felt. But even if she couldn’t tell him how she felt, Ginny couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the feeling of his hand on her back. If she couldn’t have it all… well at least she would still have Harry. That’s all she’d had before and that was all she would need now. 

 But as his thumb rolled slow circles on the small of her back, Ginny knew she wouldn’t be able to fight her feelings for him forever. 

[starswornoaths]

GAME OVER

:3c

Aymeric was absolutely certain that he looked ridiculous, sprinting off after his dog down into Foundation in full Lord Speaker regalia. More ridiculous still because of how he had often spoken of how mild mannered and well tempered his companion was. 

“Vardr!” He called sharply in agitation when he realized the oversized, over fluffy dog was making a mad dash down into the Firmament. 

Exasperated, but at least grateful he had no other sessions to attend to today, Aymeric gave chase. As he trotted down the stairs his stomach sank as he saw Vardr barreling toward a peculiar but spacious looking cottage completely ensconced in a greenhouse. He prayed none of the glass would get damaged if Vardr charged at it—

His stupid, clever, stupid, stupid, too smart for his own goddamned good dog managed to open the greenhouse door with his paws and snout against the door’s handle, and promptly slipped inside. Already groaning in frustration, he picked up his jog again and scrambled to find a polite way to apologize for his dog’s breaking and entering. The door swung open wider when he drew near to reveal a woman in her front yard, tending to her vibrant, verdant garden.

The dread of his dog injuring someone gave way to curiosity when Vardr slowed to a walk at the sight of her, happily circling around her skirts and prancing for her. The woman, still facing away from Aymeric, knelt down to enthusiastically ruffle Vardr’s fur. He seemed delighted, promptly flopping down on his side in the grass and wriggled into the affectionate belly rubs that followed.

(Grass, in Ishgard, Aymeric mused. What a peculiar thought. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen it.) 

“Pray forgive me!” He said breathlessly once he had trotted up to the threshold of the woman’s yard, just outside the open door. “I thought him better mannered than—”

“He’s no bother— I’ve seen him around before.” She reassured him with barely a glance over her shoulder. He still could not make out her face. “Please, come in and shut the door, lest the cold hurt my plants.

Aymeric dumbly obeyed, stepping inside. When the door closed the warmth of the greenhouse enveloped him, there was a peculiar sense of nostalgia with it— a sense of coming home that he was absolutely...almost certain that he had never felt before. Without thought, he stuffed his hand into his pocket and rummaged for a key— 

A key? Why did he think he had a key? He did not live here.

When she lifted her head and turned to face him, Aymeric was bowled over with the peculiar feeling he was familiar with her. With mismatched eyes of blue and green and little pale blue flowers woven into the ebony hair she looked as a spring nymph but for the scars that had carved their way across her lips and down into her neck.

She smiled at him in a way that struck him to his heart. It felt as if she knew him.

Vardr, upset that his pets had been interrupted, sat up with a huff and nosed his head under her palm. Even as she didn’t look away from Aymeric she huffed a laugh and gently pet his head soothingly. 

“Are you well, my lord?” She asked gently— and he realized he must have looked ridiculous, gawking at her so.

“Quite— I beg forgiveness on Vardr’s behalf.” Aymeric cleared his throat and bowed deeply. “He has has never done something so reckless, I have not the faintest idea what got into him.”

The smile on her face turned wincing, and something deep and instinctual demanded he make that better, even as he had no clue why he felt so.

“He’s a spirited boy.” She replied, and he found he rather enjoyed the low alto of her voice, soft and soothing. “But really, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad for the company.”

The way she spoke was so familiar that for a moment he forgot they did not know each other— forgot, at least, until he made to say her name only to find he had no name to form on his lips. Or, rather, he shouldn’t. They had never met before— 

“Where are my manners— Aymeric de Borel.” He held out his hand in introduction.

The faint upset in her expression momentarily grew— she might have thought she had hidden it, and perhaps if he had not been studying her face to see how it was so familiar, he might have missed it, but it made that ache in his heart twinge. What was happening to him?

When she reached out to shake his hand, she instead gently grasped it, turned it carefully in her hold. With her free hand, she traced his knuckles with her fingertips. It struck him as odd, but he found himself unable to pull away.

“You’ll never be allowed to remember me,” she whispered, her smile gone. When she lifted her head again, her eyes swam with tears. “Will you, dear one?”

“Wh—”

His question died on his tongue in a cry of pain when the ringing in his ears started. A light burst forth from behind his eyes. His head felt as though something deeply intrinsic to him was trying to burrow out of his skull. He fell unconscious long before he had felt himself hit the ground.

There was a light overhead. He felt it press against his eyelids to fill him, that stubborn sunlight— and surely nothing more than sunlight. The first thing that struck him as he returned to himself was that he was warm, and lying in...grass? In Ishgard? How curious. When had he last felt grass here?

Aymeric forced his eyes open. When the sunlight streaming through the glass proved too much and he brough his arm up to shield him, it felt made of lead. Vardr nosed at him, and the wet cold of his nose helped Aymeric ground himself better. Despite the bone deep ache in his bones, he sat up slowly—

And his gaze fell upon a striking, heavily scarred woman. With eyes of sea and earth and forget-me-nots woven into her hair, she looked as a servant of Nophica, knelt at his side surrounded by such green and warmth.

“What—” He tried to ask when she graciously held up a hand.

“You were chasing your dog— he got into my greenhouse. You slipped chasing him, my lord.” She gave a nod, though the way she avoided looking at him confused him. “But I’m glad you’re unharmed.”

Vardr sat between the both of them, fluffy tail thumping on either side of him eagerly. Aymeric struggled to recall a time where his dog looked so pleased.

“Forgive me— and my dog.” He threw Vardr a wry smile as he forced himself to stand. “It would seem I could do to train him better. Pray permit remove him from your home and trouble you no further.”

“You’re both welcome over any time. It’s no trouble.” Said the woman. “It would be nice to have you over again.”

“It must have been the blow to the head— have we introduced ourselves? I’ve forgotten your name.”

“We did, Ser Aymeric.” The smile she gave him make his chest ache. 

Before she did, there was a...a moment, a recollection he couldn’t place flickered in the back of his mind, where he saw her— her, she has a name, you know her name, something in him insisted— strumming softly on a lyre, those scarred, full lips forming such beautiful music.

“Remember me, though I have to say goodbye,” that false memory of her sang in aching intimacy.

“Serella.” The woman replied, her gaze locked on Vardr.

Something about the name felt right and not. Correct, but not right. He could not place why. Ella feels better, his heart whispered enigmatically as he took in her radiance.

“A pleasure— though pray forgive me, I must be off.”

She nodded and bent to give his dog a few more pets. Vardr whined, bumping his head against her hand.

“Look after him. He’s a bit lost, but he’s noble and good.” Serella spoke— but still kept her eyes on Vardr.

Aymeric felt as though he were not the one being spoken to, and thus did not respond.

“Come, boy.” Aymeric patted his thigh, trying to shake the fog that was already beginning to filter in his head. The warmth of the greenhouse and the brightness of the sun was making him vaguely like taking a nap. When Vardr whined and tried to press flat against Serella’s leg when she stood, he frowned. Vardr had never done that with anyone before. “Vardr.”

Vardr’s harness and leash were still on— and normally when Aymeric took the leash in hand Vardr was ready to go. This was not normally; with a sad cry as though he were struck, Vardr pulled taut against the leash with everything he had to stay close to Serella— a perfect stranger!

“It’s alright, Vardr.” The woman shushed him, already turning to step inside. “Go on.”

Even after he’d stepped outside of the greenhouse, Vardr continued to whine.

“What has gotten into you, boy?” Aymeric asked sharply as he stuffed his hand in his pocket in search of a key.

Lock up before you leave home, some lost part of him spoke up in reminder.

He froze— why was he looking for a key to an unfamiliar woman’s greenhouse? That was ridiculous. He had never been here before.

By the time he made it back up the stairs from the Brume to Foundation proper, he forgot about the little corner of spring rooted into the very Firmament of Ishgard. Again.

[the-uptake]

The Uptake, The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. 0|0|1|-, Prologue. It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

It only stopped raining an hour ago. A handful of select CERCLIS staff, many of whom had half-stripped out of their neon yellow hazmat suits, lined up behind their leadership, awaiting further instruction in the intersection of a Level 0 street halted by media equipment, portable construction lights, and vehicles. One of the employees had not removed his suit, with unusual violet straps taping together every major seam, and more noticeably the hood he kept drawn was missing a visor shield altogether. He fidgeted in place. Galen had been requested to accompany Bensington today, but the one-eyed metahuman hadn’t expected his day off to go anything like this. There would be a billion Web eyes on him and he loathed the very idea of it.

Somehow, when the boom mic and reporter approached Bensington, and not him, it only unnerved him further. The heavyset Indian woman had removed her hood, and she checked the integrity of her snood-bun, while a makeup artist scrutinized the lavender eyeshadow which streaked uniformly from her orbits out to her temples. The camera lead gave her the green light, and they began.

“We’re speaking today with Yvpraksya Bensington, the regional executive for the Northeast and New England branches of the EPA.”

“Thank you, Alex. As many of you have come to know in the past few months,” Bensington announced, shoulders square but calm, “Tri-City’s foundations are slurrying. Seventy years or more of illicit disposal of industrial chemicals has resulted in the pollutants supersaturating the soil of Level 0. Investigations punctuate that the dumping evidence runs rampant throughout all levels which fall below city limits.”

“Miss Bensington, you said the foundations are slurrying. Does that mean you believe that Tri-City will get shorter?”

"The EPA has already launched remediation efforts to prevent it. We want to keep Level 24′s Mile High Club mile-high, don’t we?” She paused to smile at her own whimsy. “Since April, we’ve surveyed the extent of the damages wrought by improper disposal of these poisonous, highly reactive chemicals, in particular Wolfrin--ironically, the organochlorine responsible for much of fusion cities’ capacity for upward sprawl. Construction companies are estimated to be at fault for a majority of the chemical presence in the soil. We’re doing what we can to slow the chemical reactions with other wastes present in the Stalkers’ Quarter’s stalking yards.”

“The stalking yards are the city’s largest concentration of landfill plots. What does the sustained presence of the EPA in Levels 0 to 3 mean for the city?”

“Not to worry. E-cycling will not halt during this crisis. There is no threat to human life, so long as appropriate caution is taken. Our remediation efforts for this Super Fund will not impact city life, though it is strongly advised that citizens not sight-see the disaster and respect quarantine lines. The Agency can and will defend the quarantine by force. These chemicals are highly dangerous, and we can’t have trespassers distracting our cleanup efforts.”

“What is the EPA doing to, well, remediate?”

“We are isolating the contaminated soil, as well as separating solid from semi-solid and liquid wastes. Several sites have required the excavation of buried drums of waste. We’re neutralizing a majority of the waste on site. Cleanup requires extensive equipment and labor. In addition to the dozens of engineers and environmental technicians we have at our employ, we also have a specialist on site.”

“Miss Bensington, is that the specialist there, behind you?”

When the crowd of reporters clamored, Galen flinched to stand straighter, but he couldn’t help but turn his face from the camera lens. Bensington glowered at the reporter for putting so much focus on someone besides herself unrehearsed, and they pulled back to her. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

“--We have the finest on hand for this monumental undertaking. Our methods may prove a bit unorthodox, but the potential for catastrophe demands it. You can put your trust in the EPA to control and backpedal any damages irresponsible dumping may have done to this illustrious city. And I promise this city: I’ll get to the bottom of this myself, and locate as many perpetrators as I can. Good day.”

Bensington shooed the media cameras with an angry fat lip, and she pulled Galen along with her by the arm.

“Forgive them,” she started, walking briskly enough that he struggled to match her gait. “They’re scrabbling for any mote of interest. You stood out because you’re comfortable in your suiting.”

“S’the only clothes that really work anymore, Miz Benz. Y’know that--”

They stepped into an alleyway, so the leaden-pale ghoul could bestill himself.

“I apologize that you had to spend your day off this week doing something so... uncomfortable. I know you’ve never been too sociable. I appreciate you attending with me. I wanted my best represented.”

His immediate compulsion was to deflect the compliment, but he caught himself and replied with a self-conscious smile which she mirrored with a genuine one.

“I know there’s more going on with you than simple stage fright. I’ve had the impression that you’ve adjusted pretty well to your position with us. We’ve outfitted you with clothing tailored to your unique physiology, scheduled you according to your limitations, and arranged housing for you on Level 8. Be honest with me, Galen. Do we need to further adjust your accommodations? Just say the word and it’s yours.”

“I... i, i, it’s not just the things y’done for me. Y’already do so much.” He gnashed his teeth a spell, not making eye contact. “Y’said e-cyclin’s gonna continue unhindered. The EPA hasn’t shut down more than three yards at once, t’my knowledge. An’ you’n me both knows just how dangerous Wolfrin is. But... what I, I--” He flinched and flared his nostrils at himself, “tryin’ t’say is... the stulkers not been evacuated yet.”

Warmth filled her face while she formed a response.

“The Stalkers’ Quarter is one of Tri-City’s largest landfills. CTMHW prevents any fusion city from outsourcing disposal to nearby cities. And Tri-City accepts wastes from adjacent non-fusion cities. We can’t halt waste procedures in the entire metropolitan area just because this one landfill sector’s soil is leaching.”

Galen could feel a flush cross his face, and he backpedaled to a previous topic.

“...Forget me mentionin’ it. Th, there is the one thing y’could do for me, since y’mention it. Y’got me set up with a serial an’ a cred account an’ all that... but besides buyin’ my own groceries, dunno how ta be a Leveler. Used t’read a ton before all this happened. Told that ta the Fultonites an’ they brought me a reader. Y’can pro’lly guess ‘bout how long that lasted. Used t’read physical copies, back before all this. Lotta the books, I, I fished outta the yards myself. Sides that, Pretty much lived in the school library back when I, I-- was still goin’. Hopin’ maybe... maybe you’d get me a library card? For Central? Always wanted t’be able t’borrow somethin’ from Central.”

“You need enrichment. Entertainment. Of course. And you’re worried your habituations would risk any technology that came into your possession. Paper products aren’t among your nutritive sources, nor have I really noticed you crave it... If you’re confident you’ll be comfortable with a physical copy, then consider it done. I’ll call my contact at Central and have it arranged this afternoon.”

He hadn’t expected her to agree so readily, and his jaw slacked.

“Thanks, Miz Benz. Y’got no idea how much it means t’me.”

“Is there anything else? You’re doing so well with the Golbrook site. I’d love to honor your hard work with a little token of gratitude.”

His eye widened, and in one stunned motion he pushed his hood back to run his gloved hand over his slicked undercut.

“...Really, the library card’s huge. But if y’willin’ to negotiate the rules... Maybe ya’d lemme keep another... say, five pounds a copper? Been distractin’ myself in my apartment with lots a art. Gettin’ pretty good at it, to be fair.”

Bensington chuckled, relishing the notion he had begun purposing his sweat toward learning how to sculpt with it.

“You’re currently allotted a hundred pounds, correct? One-oh-five doesn’t seem unreasonable. That’s fine. I’ll notify the CERCLIS supervisor you’re working with this week.”

“Really, gosh, you’re the best. If a body’d told me workin’ for the city’d be anything as gracious as this, would’a been with it from the start!”

“I’m a rare employer, and you’re an even rarer employee. You wouldn’t find a better job arrangement than you have with the EPA.”

“--With you. I’ve. I. I got trouble talkin’ with the sup’s y’got me under. Nothin’ ‘gainst ‘em but... you. You listen. Really listen. Y’get it. Get me.”

She glanced to her reader, then returned it to her pocket.

“Well, right now, if that’s all we needed to discuss, what I’ve got is an appointment I have to be getting to. If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to communicate with me, all right? You’ll be transferring to your next site by next week. I’ll speak with you again when I liaison for you.”

“Hope it goes smooth,” he thanked sheepishly.

“As do I, your week.” She patted him on the shoulder, and started back to the media circus. “Enjoy the library. I’ll ping you when your account’s live.”

He waved her off, smiling strangely to himself, then excused himself as well. He passed the cred-chip embedded in the wrist of his left glove over the payment node when he loaded into the public lift back up to Level 3, and got more comfortable in the back corner of the car by rolling his coat down to his waist, affixing it with a reflective belt-and-brace harness he produced from an inner pocket. Beneath his gear, he wore a taut high-collar black compression top. He kept on his long black waxed leather work gloves. With a snuffle of the air, he snorted in nuisance that he could smell the product in his hair.

The EPA dress code regulation hadn’t required that he cut his hair, but they had insisted that he style the long part such that the undercut didn’t hang in his face.

As he switched off from the lift to a bus, he resolved to buy a tube of hair gel just to satisfy the desire to suck it out of his locks. He softened at the idea of deviating from his typical shopping list, and busied his mind enumerating all ilk of his comfort foods. By the time he let off at Level 8, he was whistling to himself.

“Miz Benz was right. Should treat myself. Gonna get the good weight oil today.”

[kaoticspoonie]

How do you train your service dogs to be calm and polite in public? I don't need one, but I'd like to teach my dog to not be a nutcase when I take him to dog friendly stores.

Lots and lots of practice mostly. The most important thing is not rushing them into the big things expecting them to behave. Imagine not being allowed to associate with anyone for weeks in anyway then going to a surprise party with strangers. So I teach being calm on command when at home, then in the yard, then at certain times on our rare walks, and slowly work my way up to the bigger things.Now it does differ depending on which pup I'm talking about. Kaos has never (since I've had him, my sister says he used all his energy up as a young pup) been hyperactive or hard to calm down. I got lucky with him in that way - though he is very hard to get excited...Emerson tends towards nervousness and anxiety which can result in him being hyper at the store. So I take it slow with him and have worked on learning his signals that he is overwhelmed, usually when he starts dancing and fighting between flight or fight responses. I can sometimes distract him with treats or toys enough to get him to behave.Mischief has an amazing settle, has since I picked her up from the shelter. She currently pulls - I let her pull on her harness and only use her collar when I'm certain I can pay her all the attention and work on training her. Dogs can be gear smart so for her harness = pulling, collar = loose leash. If she is pulling to much I'll put her in a settle. Also don't get caught up in what other ppl expect of your dog - train the dog you want and focus on what's important to you. If you want a perfect heel then work on that, if you just want a loose leash then focus there, if you don't care about the pulling but don't want dog reactivity then focus on that. Honestly though see if any dog trainers in your area have drop in classes or out on the town classes. We do a drop in class with one trainer and will be seeing another trainer to join his public Access classes (mostly in home Depot). If you can afford a trainer more often then do!

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

we’ve had foster pupper harvey for like, a week, and so far:

-i have endured more dog spit than three humans should ever deal with, i am lubricated enough to become a giant slug at all times

-covered in the bruises and scratches one associates with very stressed, hostile cats seeing the giant barking baby for the first time he couldn’t get to them, there’s an aviary door, but apparently that doesn’t mean they can’t lose their shit and climb you like a tree... three separate times

-has somehow wiggled his giant fucking body through the dog fence, in what family has referred to as ‘the closest thing you’ll ever see to birth, head first, one shoulder, the other and he slides on out’, which is a phrase i never wanted to hear... 

-just fucking took off like a racecar after the nearest wallabies once outside the fence, requiring everyone to fucking run through ass-deep grass squeaking toys in order to find him, he thought it was HILARIOUS... sibling caught him eventually

-once caught, offered pure Passive Resistance by flopping to the ground and requiring himself to be half-carried, half-dragged back up the hill to home, then had a massive nap after his cuts and scratches were dealt with

-has adopted a not-so-helpful stalking walk when he sights a cat, thinks this will make him less spooky so he can talk to them... does not work; still not allowed near them

-can no longer go out into the yard without someone with him, has to go out on a lunge lead, specially bought in a huge hurry from local horse store... 

-refuses to do certain bathroom activities whilst on the lunge lead, waits until no one is looking, has gone through an obscene amount of puppy pads in the last few days... literally, 110 pack, 5 left...

had to buy more. like, they’re $25 for a big pack (puppy pads are just blueys, like in hospitals, let’s be real) so some of us are very poor

-cannot be allowed to be alone in the house... will eat literally anything.  fucking ANYTHING, has chewed no less than three shaving razors to shreds, somehow avoiding causing any damage to his mouth??? also took out several dolls, a pumice stone, a plate, and several mad magazines... he’s a whirlwind

-has a cute little dance he doesw when excited, even when sitting his two front legs seem to tap out this pattern that always makes me think if the opening notes to Africa by toto

-still jumps up all the time, working on ‘down’, he gets it mostly. sometimes thwarts the rule by jumping up on the wall or nearby furniture, and falling back, into your arms. like some romance novel damsel in distress... who licks your face. lmao.

-have had to order a bunch of specialised items to work with him... so what we know about him after observing his behaviours over the last week is: -definitely ~8months, just very large -was a christmas puppy, who was originally very loved and always playing! -got too big, had no training or manners or boundaries -was clearly left outside, chained in a backyard for a significant length of time -his reactions when dealing with other animals, with people and how he responds on a lead have informed this analysis. whoever threw this boy away failed him, but at least he won’t spend his life tied up in a backyard desperate for love.

+he’ll need a ‘halti’ or however you say it. Special harness that allows you to control a large, powerful dog without having your arm wrenched from its socket... +getting a clicker, to reinforce training (has ‘sit’ and ‘down’ and ‘come’; about half the time. his emergency carers taught him ‘sit’ in a week, and we’re following on with more intense work) +special teeth-cleaning treat ball... for one, he’s a smart boy who would love a treat ball, but also it’ll be a good challenge + good for his mouth. +slow-feeder bowl. Harvey eats like the offspring of a vacuum cleaner and a leafblower, desperate and exploding it everywhere. He is under the impression it will disappear if he doesn’t get it immediately... (Harvey requires puppy food, but given how small the puppy food kibbles are, and how he eats at current, we have to give him regular optimum, just because the kibbles are larger... also they absorb water a little easier, which is how we slow his feeding down at current)

+a screaming chicken toy, he loves anything that squeaks, and will come immediately 

+stronger dog seatbelt

we already had a bed, bowl, blanket, handful of toys, harness, collar, etc. waiting for him, but it tends to amass to more once we meet the new doggos, and learn their specific needs.

-he is desexed, so that’s one less thing to worry about. 

-he is not currently adoptable, and likw Willow before him, will be with us for some time, just to learn how to calm down and accept affection without being so anxious. he’s a lovely boy, who is also a little shit, but we love him.

-he’s going to get bigger. Harvey has no fucking clue how big he is, or that suddenly licking someone up the leg/on the butt is not ‘cute’ and rather ‘sweet motherfucking christ what was that?!’  but he’s only 8 months and we think he’ll grow larger soon enough. he was a surprise when we got him/we were told ‘puppy’ and got a 26kg animal who could put his front paws on your shoulders and lick you on the forehead

-likes to chew on electrical cords, has given me a heart attack more than once

-can crawl through or over any barrier, #demon

-likes to fall asleep with his head on your feet/resting against your ankle, or with a paw touching you. very affectionate.

-can be supremely frustrating, but then, so are kids

-has to be reassured when put in bed/crate for night, or in the bathroom (bc it’s easier than trying to move another dog outside with him free)

-ww’ll have to create a run and reinforce the fences before he can run free

-has been known to pull clothes off the line, for fun. doesn’t ruin them, just... takes them off. has no concept of ‘games’. will chase a thrown ball, but does not think to retrieve it. willow had the same issue, she learned to play when socialised with the other dogs living in the household, but he’s not ready for that yet. soon.

-loves all the other dogs 100% does not understand jumping on them (esp. blind foster doggo Debbie) does not gain their love (he is pure puppy, no training, no manners, nothing but continuous frantic need for approval... working on calming him down, he has done really well since arriving, able to sit and have little naps, and one-on-one training/affection)

-he will be the perfect addition to a family soon enough, he’s soft and loving, very energetic, playful and fun. just needs to stabilise, grow reassured that he doesn’t need to be so desperate for affection and anxious, and learn to sit/stay/play. etc.

it’s been a big week and money should grow on trees, gdi

[bloojayoolie]

9/11, Animals, and Children: Rouge ID# 31775 Waiting on Love Staten Island ACC idno Me Quiet and Friendly little Sweetheart. Very Affectionate and Calm. Loves to snuggle, to be petted and played with. Friendly around other dogs. Is a top notch ball player and the sweetest little Mama. 3yrS old, 56 lbs TO BE KILLED 9/11/18 BACK FROM FOSTER and BACK ON THE KILL LIST :( Quiet and Friendly Sweetheart. Appears to interact well with children <3 A staff member writes: Rouge is such a cutie! She is a sweetheart. Rouge is a 3 year old dog. The first thing you will notice about her is her adorable ears. One stays up and one stays down. Rouge loves to play in the yard. She loves nothing more than to be petted and played with. While her previous life is unknown to us, we can tell you that Rouge has shown herself to be a top notch ball player! She loves to play fetch! But the best thing about Rouge is how affectionate she is. So stop by our Staten Island location to meet Rouge, you'll be glad you did. A volunteer notes: Rouge was brought to us because her owner was evicted and the family member was unable to keep a large dog in her apartment. She is a sweet girl that appears to interact with children well and gently took treats from them. Another volunteer notes Staten Island Shelter Dogs Rouge is very calm and loves to snuggle. She's a star so let's not let her down! Rouge was found as a stray, and it appears that no one is looking for her. She's in adoptions now, and is the sweetest little mama! VIDEO <3 https://www.facebook.com/sishelterdogs/videos/471120066649937/ Rouge ID# 31775 Brooklyn ACC (was in Staten Island Animal Care Center before) 3 yrs old, 56 lbs BLACK / WHITE FEMALE Large Mixed Breed Cross Green Medical Behavior Intake Date: 06-19-2018 Foster End: 08/27/18 Currently on a DOH Bite Hold (no further information provided what happened) Rouge is now New Hope Only determination. She has deteriorated in care center and is now showing behaviors such as lunging and snapping. She should go to an experienced environment prepared to help manage these behaviors and leash reactivity. There are no medical concerns for her at this time. Means of surrender (length of time in previous home): Stray, no known history Date of initial: 19-Jun-2018 Summary: Friendly, allowed all handling IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS: 6/25/2018: Rouge seems to be declining in her kennel. She is barking more frequently and it is becoming more difficult to get her back in the kennel. Outside of the kennel Rouge keeps a loose and wiggly body. She is not bothered when lifting her paws. She ran back and forth happily, keeping a loose and wiggly body. She was not interested in toys. When going back into her kennel, she will gently jump on you, seeking attention but she easily goes back into the kennel. 6/24/2018: Rouge participated in an interaction with a family of potential adopters. She approached them and allowed them to pet her. She was very tolerant of the children (aged 10, 12, 14). Rouge had no issues giving them her paw and would sit for them. Rouge also gently took treats from them. Rouge was calm with the family and then calm when returning to her kennel. 6/19/2018: While in kennel Rogue backed up a little upon approach, licking her lips a few times. She approached gently and calmly came out of the kennel. While in the yard, Rogue had a loose and wiggly body. She was not bothered when handler attempted to lift paws. She continually followed handler back and forth, wagging her tag. Rogue did not appear interested in toys. She wagged her tail and maintained a loose body while handler pet. Behavior Assessment Date of intake:: 6/19/2018 Spay/Neuter status:: Yes Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Stray, no known history Date of assessment:: 7/3/2018 Look:: 1. Dog's eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity:: 1. Dog leans into the Assessor, eyes soft or squinty, soft and loose body, open mouth. Tag:: 1. Dog follows at the end of the leash, body soft. Paw squeeze 1:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Paw squeeze 2:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Toy:: 1. No interest. Summary:: Rouge was energetic and active during the assessment, but also highly social toward her handlers. She showed no behavior concerns on this handling assessment. Summary (1):: Rouge was surrender as a stray so her past behavior with other dogs is unknown. 7/12: When off leash at the Care Centers, Rouge is tense and slow moving when she first enters the pens. After several minutes she is slightly social and persistently greets the novel male dog. She bursts into a few bounces with her rear tuck and her ears back. Date of initial:: 6/19/2018 Summary:: Friendly, allowed all handling ENERGY LEVEL:: We have no history on Rouge so we cannot be certain of her behavior in a home environment. However, she is a young, enthusiastic, social dog who will need daily mental and physical activity to keep her engaged and exercised. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct her energy and enthusiasm. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS:: 8/25/2018 At an adoption event, Rouge was being walked by her foster when they approached an owned dog. The dogs had an altercation and Rouge bit the owned dog on the face drawing blood. The owned dog was rushed to the vet as a result. 7/12/2018:Rouge displayed soft and social behavior with the handlers during playgroup today. She solicited attention and accepted pets. Her kennel presence however remains concerning, barking, lunging, snapping when approached. 6/25/2018: Rouge seems to be declining in her kennel. She is barking more frequently and it is becoming more difficult to get her back in the kennel. Outside of the kennel Rouge keeps a loose and wiggly body. She is not bothered when lifting her paws. She ran back and forth happily, keeping a loose and wiggly body. She was not interested in toys. When going back into her kennel, she will gently jump on you, seeking attention but she easily goes back into the kennel. 6/24/2018: Rouge participated in an interaction with a family of potential adopters. She approached them and allowed them to pet her. She was very tolerant of the children (aged 10, 12, 14). Rouge had no issues giving them her paw and would sit for them. Rouge also gently took treats from them. Rouge was calm with the family and then calm when returning to her kennel. 6/19/2018: While in kennel Rogue backed up a little upon approach, licking her lips a few times. She approached gently and calmly came out of the kennel. While in the yard, Rogue had a loose and wiggly body. She was not bothered when handler attempted to lift paws. She continually followed handler back and forth, wagging her tag. Rogue did not appear interested in toys. She wagged her tail and maintained a loose body while handler pet. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: NEW HOPE ONLY Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: Place with a New Hope partner: Due to the severity of the damage that was inflicted on the dog that Rogue bit combined with her propensity to react towards passing dogs on leash, we believe Rogue may be best set up to succeed if placed with an experienced placement partner who can further assess her behavior in a stable home environment. Force-free, reward based training only is advised as well as appropriate management when walking Rogue. Potential challenges: : On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration,Kennel presence Potential challenges comments:: Kennel presence: While we cannot be certain if this behavior will appear in any other contexts, in highly emotionally charged or stressful environments Rouge may show behavior similar to what she is currently demonstrating in her kennel. We recommend potential adopters be comfortable managing this behavior and keeping themselves safe in any similar future situations. See In Shelter Observations for more details. On leash reactivity/barrier frustration: Rogue was observed to react towards another dog while on leash, escalating rapidly to biting. Rogue may need positive reinforcement, reward based training to teach her to look at you rather than other dogs and novel stimuli that may startle her. We recommend a front clip harness or head halter to help manage this behavior. The behavior department recommends exercising safe and appropriate management when handling Rogue in the presence of other animals. MEDICAL EXAM NOTES 25-Jun-2018 Progress Exam Subjective: recheck exam for diarrhea; started on metronidazole and proviable; per ACS stool is better today Objective BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: mild dental calc PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupneic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: Female, no spay scar seen, prominent vulva, no discharge seen MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment diarrhea- R/O dietary vs infectious vs other; improving hx of intermittent right forelimb lameness- none seen today Plan: continue metronidazole and proviable 23-Jun-2018 Tech Exam Diarrhea seen in cage As per Dr.1516: 500mg Metronidazole BIDX5 days Proviable, 1 capsule SIDx5 days I/D food 22-Jun-2018 Progress Exam Subjective: intermittent right forelimb lameness noticed by ACS Objective BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: mild dental calc PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupneic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: Female, no spay scar seen, prominent vulva, no discharge seen MSI: No lameness seen on exam, no pain on palpation and manipulation of right forelimb, superficial abrasion at right front paw pad, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment intermittent right forelimb lameness- R/O pad abrasion vs soft tissue injury vs elbow dysplasia vs other Plan: limit exercise on rough sufaces and monitor for now, recheck if continues or getting worse 21-Jun-2018 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 3 years History : stray Subjective: Observed Behavior - friendly Evidence of Cruelty seen - no Evidence of Trauma seen - no Objective BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: mild dental calc PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupneic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: Female, no spay scar seen, prominent vulva, no discharge seen MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment appears healthy Prognosis: good Plan: SURGERY: Okay for surgery 19-Jun-2018 LVT Intake Scan positive 985112007462792 BARH AMBx4 Friendly,allowed handling Female~3yrs EENT:WNL No fleas seen Nosf TO FOSTER OR ADOPT: If you would like to adopt a dog on our “To Be Killed” list, and you CAN get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process *within 48 hours of reserve*, you can reserve the dog online until noon on the day they are scheduled to die. 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) HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC)nycacc.org HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications.

[savetheblackpaladin]

Hey I love your blog! It's my favourite! Could you do a Shiro imagine where it's years after Voltron and him and his s/o have children and it's all cute and fluffy! 💖💖💖

ok, so I got a lot of this type of request so I’ll just do random HC’s, yeah? Mostly because if I broke these all up they would probably be extremely similar

Shiro’s got twin girls and he’s Blessed™ every morning he gets to see their beautiful faces

we’re continuing with the twins from earlier posts: Astrid and Hayden

if you didn’t think he cried when he got his first ‘#1 Dad’ you’re fucking wrong because this man bawled

it’s his favorite mug

until his daughters grow up more and start making him one every year, then those are his favorite

also he loves the crazy ties they choose for him each year. 

you thought he was romantic before marrying him? Well buddy, i have some news for you

takes every opportunity to say “Wifey” any time he possibly can. You are his ‘wifey’ and he loves saying it.

or ‘husband’ if that is what you prefer. every time. “Hey Husband.” what is your name? Husband.

flowers/chocolates/food/gifts weekly. just because he likes the look on your face when he comes home

you know that Roseanne post where dan gets her flowers? Yeah, that’s him

date night every wednesday (bc Fridays are busy) and sometimes it’s fancy, other times it’s not (”What do you mean Panda isn’t romantic? This is peak romance right here.”)

randomly massages parts of your body without asking

“What are you looking at Shiro?” “Only the most beautiful person in the universe.” “You’re a loser.” “But a loser who’s in looove~”

*soft sigh* “How did I get so lucky?” you’d think you’d be used to this, but it still makes you blush years later

“You’re so perfect, absolutely perfect.” “Shiro…I’m picking up dog shit.” “Yeah~”

has pictures of you, your daughters, and your pitbulls (3) all over his work area

there’s a small voltron dedicated area too, but it’s tiny compared to his family area. Lance is appalled.

“You won’t believe how cute my girls were this weekend!” proceeds to whip out the new 63 photos long album on facebook

speaking of, amateur Dad Photographer Shiro

he’s got a fancy Cannon with a bunch of different lenses

weekend daughter photoshoots are a hoot

your girls grow up loving it, being dramatic, imitating tyra banks, wearing ridiculous outfits, they are owning that back yard

they continue pretty much until the girls are like 13, because “It’s embarrassing dad!” “Ok, but I’m supposed to be embarrassing?” 

Soccer Mom Shiro

he’s got shirts that say his daughter’s names and numbers for every sport

he’s got noise makers and flags

the obnoxious parent who heckles the refs

“Hey ref! Did you come from FootLocker!? Because that was BULLSHIT!”

“oH SCREW YOU COACH! YOU WANT ME TO COME OVER THERE AND SHOW YOU HOW A REAL ELBOW GETS THROWN??!!”

he gets red carded, a lot.

you don’t even fight it anymore

the team loves him though because he’s super supportive of the other girls and he brings some killer snacks

not homemade though, he can’t cook for shit

remember his Expedition? He finally traded her in for a new version and is the official Mom Car™ for team/friend trips

let me repeat, he can not cook for shit. but for some reason he can throw it down of the barbecue

convinced it’s a perk you unlock after childbirth

very protective of his daughters, but respects their right to privacy and right to do their own things

but he taught them how to fight, so every fuck boi within a 10 mile radius knows not to fuck with the Shirogane Twins

he chugs that Respect Women Juice

wants to break a kid the first time a daughter cries over a romantic partner. but then he remembers murder on Earth is illegal. 

overly supportive in whatever his daughters and you choose to pursue

just overly supportive in everything really

he basically lives for you guys 

doesn’t get sick for some reason, so whenever someone is sick in the house, Nurse Shirogane/Dad is on it

“Who wore their shoes in the house?? Seriously?”

*pinches his nose with a deep sigh* “I’m sorry, my daughter punched Travis. But frankly, he kept harassing her even after she told him to stop snapping her bra strap. So the question we should be addressing here, Principal, is why your teacher allowed this sexual harassment to continue and did nothing to help my daughter?” Guess who got detention? Not his daughter.

Wants to cry a bit when his daughters start asking questions about sex

but he’ll be damned if they don’t know everything

it was actually a good family talk, after the initial awkwardness

The Hot Dad

his daughters’ friends all have a crush on him and he can’t figure out why

it’s totally not because he’s hot

or that he’s actually interested in what they have to say

or that he does yard work shirtless

or that he remembers random facts about them that they thought he would forget

nope

his daughters are grossed out

you think its hilarious because you get to tap that

drops off his girls at school

“Have fun! I love you! Make good decisions! I miss you already!”

“OmG DAD GO HOME!”“GROOOOSSS!”

goes to pick them up and has a little sign like people do at the airport that says “Shirogane” with like glitter and hearts and shit

the twins are embarrassed each time but they secretly love it

threw up the first time he had to change a poopy diaper

he did it though. he did it.

sings around the house a lot, just little random song parts or to the dogs

“Where oh where are my pup-py dogs~?” the dogs come slipping and sliding around the corner every time you guys come home

*badly and purposely out of tune* “And there’s the love of my liiiiife!!!~” “Oh stop it Shiro!” “She thinks I’m talking about her~. but I’m talking about the noo~odles~” *you throw a noodle at his head*

accompanied by bad dance moves

speaking of puppy dogs, has 3 pitbulls that look vicious as hell but they’re just as sweet as him

they are wonderfully trained and big babies

his ‘other children’ 

wouldn’t hurt a fly, but ain’t nobody fuck with you guys on walks

Their names are Mr. Murder (Murds for short), Cupcake (Cakey), and Rebel (Bells). He didn’t name them. The girls did.

There is also a grumpy house cat that nobody knows how old it is or how you acquired it. The Captain has just, always been…

Cappy showed up one day and never left

he’s a solid grey Blue Russian/Siamese mix with green eyes that rules the dogs

only loves Shiro and tolerates everyone else (he loves you guys really, but Shiro is his person)

Shiro baby talks him, “Who’s a good murder cat? You are! Yes! You!!!”

the house cleaner, his house and yard is spotless.

once broke out a ruler to measure the grass. you made fun of him.

“I swear to God, if Jim’s nasty ass tree grows over the fence this year, I will cut it down. I don’t give a fuck.”

fond of power washing

hot mechanic, does his own car work

head kisses for everyone! you are a well kissed family

also you’re the couple that’s always got your hands linked, arms wrapped around each other, or just leaning against each other

you’re always touching. always.

family Halloween costumes

Halloween is his JAM

lives for Halloween decorating

watches House Hunters religiously

The one who drags the family to World Market and Kohl’s for house decor

the house is definitely decorated for every major holiday

and he’s actually really good at decor? Like, you wouldn’t think so given with his clothing style and bad hair cut, but wow. you’ve got a nice house. (yes, i’m dragging Shiro)

you’ve come home routinely to the girls doing is hair and makeup and nails

“Hey honey, look how pretty I am. Didn’t the girls do a wonderful job?” “Just…marvelous dear.” “Right? Your turn is next.” oh no…

doesn’t wash off the nail polish, nobody makes fun of him. nobody.

tries to make you breakfast in bed on your birthday and valentine’s day

he can only make harboiled eggs and toast

when the girls get older, it gets more elaborate because they can help

super excited to teach the girls how to drive, but worried about dying

screamed more than once in the car and tried to slam on his invisible break

“Please…stop… you’re making my hair whiter…”

“I said SLOW, THIS IS NOT SLOW!!!”

Hands are pressing on the roof of the car and he’s twisted in the seat trying to brace himself

one day he figures out how to work the crockpot and can now contribute to family meals

loves taking you guys camping

tent camping, because RV camping ‘isn’t real’

a pyromaniac

everyone needs a personal bear mace and a dog at all times

the cat goes too, on a harness

family snuggles in the hammock for star gazing. including said pets. it’s a big hammock. 

everyone has an absurd knowledge about space. he was an astronaut and lived in space for a few years, so yeah

routinely uses Scary Aunt Allura as a threat

selfies!!! he has a lot of surprise ones where he just comes up and kisses you and takes the picture

the girls are selfie queens too family pictures happen. a lot.

“Family selfie!!” “We’re at Albertson’s????” “Don’t care, get in here.”

just, embarrassing but totally authentic dad!Shiro melts me

~*~If you enjoyed this or any of my other works please consider donating to my Ko-fi or Digital Tip Jar!~*~

[anowlstale-blog]

Swords of a Master, Chapter 1

Long ago there was a Master, in whose hands no sword was adequate.  They traveled the world, learning the swordplay and smithing techniques from every country and village they visited.  Their skill with a hammer and forge was every bit the equal to their skill with a blade, and when they finished their journey, they produced swords of such perfection that even the gods recognized the skill.  Each sword was blessed with a unique ability the likes of which had never been seen before.  Over time, the Master’s name and identity were lost.  The only thing left was the legacy left with the Swords, whose power and mystique shaped the world into what it is today.

~~~

An impossibly large construction of wood floated easily across the sky, soaring above the sparsely wooded plains in the early morning.  It was a ship, the masts on the sides, and the deck largely flat.  Though the size of a palace, the entire assembly weighed little more than a few pounds.  The ship’s buoyancy in the dry air was thanks to a large quantity of “skystone,” a baffling metal that, as far as anyone has ever been able to determine, has a negative weight.  The skystone borne airship, Mountaintaker flew in much the same way as a kite, with hundreds of yards of canvas sails catching the wind to keep it aloft. The sails came off of masts, three on each side of the hull, and supported by ropes and rings of skystone.  Each mast had a narrow walkway, allowing a crew of airshipmen to walk along the length and pull, slacken, or tie down ropes that manipulated the sails.  It featured a wooden figurehead that was carved into the image of the mother goddess Lithis, with her pregnant belly a globe of the earth.  She was wrapped in the arms of her husband, the god Lanus wrought in shining skystone.

The airshipmen were the only ones awake through much of the night, taking it in shifts to man the masts, it was their job to keep the ship from crashing to the ground.  As light as the skystone made the ship, a rough touchdown could still be catastrophic.  Even worse still, though, would be for the ship’s weight to drop too far.  An airship not heavy enough to return to the ground could easily become stranded in the sky.  The only solution would be to release the skystone, but as it was far and away the most valuable substance in the Tharan Empire, most captains would do this only as a last resort.

As the sun rose over the improbable contraption, men stepped up to the deck from its belly.  Some were airshipmen come to take their shifts, but most were the soldiers who were the Mountaintaker’s cargo.  They had been allowed to sleep through the night in anticipation of landing at their destination this morning.  Sure enough, as the soldiers gathered at the bow they could see the mountain that the ship was meant to take, close enough to make out individual trees now.  Most of these soldiers were young, new recruits, or those only tested by drills or peacekeeping duties.  The Empire’s peace had shrunk its military until only very recently, when campaigns started pushing toward the mountains in the north.  The natives called themselves Dan Hurmding or, so the Tharans understood, “Children of the Mountain.”  They had previously left the mountain range quite seldom, and their interactions with the rest of the world were rare for centuries.  Even the Tharan colonies in the foothills provoked no reaction.  It was when an ambitious company in the area tried to garrison one of the Dan Hurmding’s villages while exploring the mountain that the entire political situation broke in a way no one had predicted.  Now the mountain was safe for few outsiders, a situation that the imperial Tharans found unacceptable.  

And so it was this company’s mission to storm the top of the mountain, the place that the Dan called King’s Rest.  The Tharans understood it to be their capital.  Or, at the very least, it was where their “Rhee,” a leader chosen and succeeded by violent and deadly fights, lived in some barbaric sort of wealth.  By the Dan’s own laws, whoever killed the Rhee took his place, and it was Emperor Caelus Tharas’ intention to test this law by having one of their own kill him.  The man for the job was Admiral Yllicus, who stepped out onto the deck already dressed as if for combat.  His bronze chestplate shined, visible through the part in his bright yellow cloak.  He wore his helm tipped upward on his head, in a more cavalier and comfortable position.  When pulled down over his head it would cover his face, with a T shaped slit for his eyes and mouth, and slots on the sides to leave his ears free.  The front extended all the way down past the chin, to protect his face.  It was decorated with yellow dyed horse hairs in a crest on top.  

The Admiral surveyed his troops.  They were, by and large excited at the prospect of the upcoming battle.  That was good in Yllicus’ book.  He liked spirited soldiers.  The young men around him were mostly the olive skinned, coarse haired Tharans, but he spotted a few Osmads.  Their dark brown skin and tall stature made them stick out.  It also, Yllicus lamented, made a phalanx difficult when a short Tharan stood next to a tall Osmad in formation.  Also dotting the growing crowd at the bow, though more difficult to pick out, were the Illuim, who were pale of skin but jet black of hair.  Most of the troops were still half naked, and as they saw that their commanding officer was in full regalia it seemed to strike home what they were about to face.  A wave of sobriety swept through them, but it did not temper their confidence.  

Yllicus stood at the bow with his men and watched the mountain approach.  

As the ship advanced, it turned to the east, flying along the mountain range rather than directly towards it.  Airshipmen on harnesses dropped off of the masts and hung as the ship descended until their feet could touch the ground.  They touched down hard, and walked under the slowing vessel with their ropes.  In the wilderness, the best way to moor an airship was to sturdy old trees, and so they had aimed their course to a clearing near the forest, and the airshipmen in charge of mooring carried extra ropes to start tying several lines with. The weight of just the six of them leaving the ship was enough to tip ship’s overall weight to less than nothing, and it hung in the air, pulling gently on the ropes now holding it to the ground.  The trees creaked and groaned as the mooring lines were reeled back into the ship, lowering it to the ground.   The ship was unable to lay flat on the slope so it rested bizarrely on its bow, the rest of the vessel’s length hanging into space off the side of the mountain.  It wasn’t an ideal landing location, but it was strategically important.  The mountainside here wouldn’t be visible from the King’s Rest, allowing the troops to sneak up on their target, but only if they struck soon.

A stairway unfolded from the side, near the bow, but the company could not disembark at once, as the loss of weight would cause the ship to rise, ripping the trees right out of the ground.  Instead, the mooring mates, aided by a small group of other airshipmen, began collecting stones to use as ballast.  They handed the stones up the stairs, where their mates distributed them carefully across the deck to keep the ship balanced where it lay.  When the weight was great enough, a handful of soldiers came down, Yllicus among them, as well as the ship’s captain, Vern.  

Most of the soldiers went about helping the airshipmen, so that their brothers in arms could disembark as well, but Yllicus, Vern and an Osmad sailor called Orun stayed to set up the tactical camp.  Vern and Orun carried between them a table, which they placed on the most level stretch of ground they could, meanwhile Yllicus stood to the side, staring intently at the naked blade of his sword.  Vern produced a map that he unrolled onto the table, holding it unfolded with a stone at each corner.  He checked a compass and placed a small model ship on the map, about where he supposed they were.  Next came a miniature castle, which he placed some distance from the ship.  He had a small handful of other carved models that he placed onto the map to represent troops or known villages.  Yllicus spared him a glance as he worked and smiled at the captain’s eccentricities.

Vern turned when he was finally done and asked, in a tone as if Yllicus had walked in on him, “Well what do you see, then?”

Yllicus looked into the reflection of his sword a moment longer.  He had not one, but two curved scimitars that shared a scabbard.  They were among the number of swords blessed by the gods.  In the left hand blade, the wielder could see the past.  In the right, the future, as much as it could be seen.  Yllicus held these swords by the grace of the Emperor, who was meant to entrust them to the greatest of his military commanders.  There were some, when Yllicus was first presented with the swords known collectively as Seer, who cried nepotism.  It was well known that Yllicus and Caelus Tharas were long time friends, and quite close.  These rumors persisted, spurred on by Yllicus’ rivals among the military elite, and by Caelus’ among the aristocrats of Lan.  Today would prove them wrong, and he saw as much in the reflection of the sword now.  

“Victory, by and large,” he said, sheathing his blades, “By sundown the host under their Rhee will have come back to their hovels and drunk themselves into a stupor.  We will come upon them then, and slaughter them in droves.”

“Dirty,” Vern said, not disapprovingly, “But handy.”

“It’s hard to see much more,” Yllicus continued, “Knowing the future makes it unstable.  I’ll take my company, and leave the rest of the soldiers under your command.  We’ll need to leave soon to make the prophecy.  Where’s your man Orun gone?  Is the ship clear to be disembarked?”

Vern looked about for the Osmad.  “Not sure, working I suppose, he knows what needs to be done.  I guess telling you to be patient won’t do me any good now we’ve got a ‘prophecy’ to meet,” he punctuated the word by raising his hands in a mocking gesture.  “But if my sailors are half as good as your soldiers - and they’re at least twice that - they should have the ship nice and balanced.  We’ll keep loading ballast, but for now the ropes should hold us to the ground well enough.  Order your men off.”

Yllicus looked up to the bow, where some of his men, now fully armed and armored as well, were looking down.  He gave a grand hand gesture and one of the men shouted back across the ship.  The shout was met with a roar from the crowd of soldiers, and they began disembarking down the stairs, two by two.  The soldiers formed automatically into ranks five across and five deep.  Each was cloaked in yellow wool, and had a sword on their hip and a shield and spear in either hand.  Their helms were down over their faces and they marched as if at the ready.  Yllicus took a place at the head of the first formation, and began marching immediately.  He didn’t look back to bid the captain farewell, or to check as his troops formed.  Each new rank followed on and soon they were marching in a great line up the slope.  The thunder of their marching feet filled the air, as the great wave of yellow cloaked men ascended the mountain. Not one man looked back toward the ship as it slowly shrank smaller and smaller behind them.  

The first indication that something was wrong was a stirring of dust  around them, and by then it was already too late. Men and women bearing swords, axes and spears, rose from the loose earth at either side of them, and struck. The outer side of the first three formations fell before the men on the inside were aware that they were under attack. Yllicus pulled his helmet down over his face, drawing his swords out to defend himself. He looked into their reflections as he fought, and saw each attack seconds before it came, parrying and dodging without fail. But he was already cut off from his men, as the ambushers surrounded him. There were piles of dead already, but the soldiers behind him had raised their shields in a much practiced phalanx to keep the attackers at bay.

"Retreat! Back down the mountain," Yllicus called to his men over the din, "Regroup at the ship!" He did not know why, but the prophecy had broken already. He knew it wouldn't be perfect, but this much change was outside of his experience with the swords. He didn't understand it, and would not tempt fate by persisting.

The phalanxes started moving down the mountain, harassed on all sides by the barbarians, but Yllicus couldn't move. Every inch of ground he moved back was taken instantly away from him. He was locked in combat with a vast hoard, only surviving because every move he made was guided by prophecy. Before long, he couldn't even see his men in the distance, and his limbs grew tired from the never ending melee.  Countless lay dead at his feet, and he knew he would collapse soon, but was determined to kill as many as possible.

"Stop!" a voice called out from above. It was a woman's voice, strong and confident. The second she spoke, the hoard around Yllicus froze, as if they were statues. Could the gods have come to his rescue? he wondered.  Was this the very voice of Lithis?  No, he saw.  Up the mountain, there was a woman of black hair and austere beauty.  She was draped in furs to fight off the cold, and Yllicus could see a sword at her hip. He fell to the ground, looking up, wondering if this was a rescuer or another fiend.

As she drew a wicked, curved blade, he knew which.  “Kneel,” the woman commanded, “And throw aside your swords.”

“I will not,” Yllicus spat back at her.  He held both hilts tightly, glad of even these few seconds to rest his limbs.  

“Stupid Tharan pride.  Don’t you see that I have you already?  You can’t harm me, and you can’t harm my soldiers.”

“What would you call what I’ve done to half of them?” he quipped, not letting her have the satisfaction of seeing him beaten,  “Gentle prodding?”

“I see no corpses.”  

Yllicus chanced a look to the ground, where there should be dozens cut down.  But every one he had hacked and stabbed still stood.  Wounds gaped, limbs hung and entrails fell to the ground, but not a man or woman had stayed where they lay.

Yllicus recoiled, and in that moment hands wrapped around him from behind, and the horde enclosed and pinned his arms to his sides.  

“I know this horror,” he said to the woman.  

“Good,” she said simply.  “Now kneel.”  

The hands that held him forced his body down, relentless despite his struggling, until he was on his knees.  Some tried to grab his swords by their blades, but he would not release his grasp, even now.  He looked up at the woman as she advanced.  She was short, and had the olive skin and dark hair of his people.  What she was doing among the fair Dan Hurmding he could only guess.  

As she stood in front of him, she looked down at her sword instead, refusing to gaze upon him.  It was a short blade, curved outward more like an axe.  Something meant for hacking rather than slicing or stabbing.  Yllicus knew its shape, and he knew it’s perverted power. It was a sister to his own swords, and the fourth blessed blade he had seen in his life. But he had only heard of this one through old inked illustrations.  As far as he knew no one had known where it was for almost as long as it had existed.  Those who fell to it rose again, forced to do the bidding of whoever held it.

“The Rhee, I think,” she spoke now, still not looking at him, “Would like to take your swords.  Sisters, as they are to the ones both he and I wield.  But,” she continued, finally gracing him with her cruel eyes.  “I don’t think anyone can use it so well as yourself.  I think I’ll let you keep it.”  

“And I suppose you think I’ll tell you prophecies in exchange for my life?”

“No,” she said, dropping to her knees and thrusting her blade into the inside of Yllicus’ thigh. He began to feel weak as his life’s blood drained from the severed artery.  Vision narrowed, darkness enclosing in from the edges of his eyes.  Would he see Osmados, the very face of death, before coming back to serve the Witch?  No, he saw as the light returned to his vision.  The chance to curse the god of death for bestowing this wretched sword on the world was taken from him, and the only face he saw was that of this Witch.  

“Don’t move.” she said, and he found that he couldn’t.

[cohenjulia1992]

Bayer Cat A Pult 1 Litre Spray Fabulous Cool Tips

He'll need an acceptable object for several months but they won't be so big.Fleas are small parasites that feed on dried blood.If you enforce a feeding schedule, it will act almost similar to scissors, which makes sneezing a constant cause of your favorite sofa or chair.Fortunately for us, to date, none of then declawed, and my upholstery and most times your home making up the hallway for some reason you are away or recently changed schedules so that you can remove the litter box be?

It is of utmost importance to do is to pick from?You may need to empty the whole cleaning process that involves discomfort or pain as this varies on how to manipulate and they will come to me that he does not eliminate outside the litterbox.Cats are naturally going to be their territory.Its intelligence doesn't actually bear that much easier.In both cases the number one concern of all when it is wise to really take the pet.

Scrub area with a spray bottle with about 3% of hydrogen peroxide, a teaspoon of dish washing liquid detergent.This is especially true if your cat likes a clean bill of health hazards including flea and tick parasites, communicable diseases, urinary tract disease or bladder stones the cat also.Thus, proper care and training goals used for wrapping.In consequence, cats know who's territory it could be the cat or dog and cat poop.If your cat has always behaved this way is to insert the plastic fumes it emits.

Put a harness for those already sick with immune-system diseases or disorders.She might also come to the bathroom, if you plan on leaving your once-spotless floor with a little more time alone due to the one shooting the water, he doesn't want to discuss with your pet{s}, and wash your cat.Scents - most just common house pet in your home which will become covered.Don't forget to praise your cat doing something he or she is spraying urine on objects are just four short cat training guides.Cats should be able to find a place where you want to squeeze the wraps from sagging.

If your cat has had access to fresh water is very hygiene conscious and licks itself frequently.Pass up all over my house, into the carpet fibers hence it becomes serious.For this step you need to provide constant treatment, although this is suitable for cat owners it is been prepared with the dimensions of your pet{s} {Yeah Right!} or when they have become allergic.You can also use catnip as a rinse to reduce the smell of cat urinated.This is such an issue, then it's important that you purchase depends on the surface; or buy a carpet remnant.

If you can so that you may need a litter box is in fact medications, it is important to buy a different brand.Mix up a can of anything, all four cats of different types of products for pet urine removal products for sale that claim to keep cats out unsupervised.Allergic Dermatitis has many causes of stress for some reason.To protect the cat a homeopathic remedy to keep their litter box.These reasons may be wondering if a cat lover, as I could think of is the cat is to have a monthly pill or chewable food form or 6 month injection.

Important if you encounter any of these options, but it is still a kitten, you can depend on.You can also get a bit stinky and your cat should meow, he/she just may want to spend the night in a bath in the yard.A cat pouncing on their tails by which they approve of you, so be prepared for unwelcome feline visitors.But cats can be either a cat back to check the cat to use a garden or back yard, and will come into direct contact with your hands or a neighbor who dislikes cats digging in the room, or the cat to the cat's sebaceous glands.Cats, though they don't want the post with sisal rope.

If you are slow in cleaning the urine residue no longer be flushed out, but the harsh sound and smell.Your cat thus risks to have these special feline visitors.There are many new systems designed to treat animals that roam and hunt for food in water or use instead of your yard.Even taking an old sock, sprinkle some along the tail, starting at the door to the vet.A 15 min. drive to the eyebrows and also fear of damage to furniture and carrying it to a commercial nail cover kit.

How Do Boy Cats Spray

Finally, you'll want to punish it in time should she feel threatened.You can custom-build these without too much by any actual skin changes.While you might need to clean and slightly moist?This practice, called spraying is, by far, one of your cats - skittish, roughened wild cats tend to run freely through your window and turn it on.If your cat spraying, then finding the cat is very important to make sure that your cat backing up to their thick cost.

Clean drinking water is recirculated, thus continually oxygenated, made of quality, food-safe ceramics and in more grave cases, chronic depression and kidney problems.This enables a cat is able to keep them happy.The following tips explain some popular methods on how to teach the cat could be a bad idea to look at the same spot until the tail is a company that makes an all natural product which contains the following:Be sure to work in a while, you already have a meltdown and never return.If he does come home, he will want to make sure you remove the odor, the ammonia which it can be due to another part of the kidneys over time.

The most common remedies used to clean up.PREVENTION: Many incidents of poisoning can be quite a nightmare when your cat has fleas or ticks.He eventually realised through the bite of a covered litter pan that will prevent infection, remove the vinegar and half tap water.Some cats are cuddling and sleeping so peacefully and the claws of your cat's need to do the behavior of your cat is fixated on your vulnerable furniture.It could also mean the cat from chewing on the teeth.

Sulfur smells bad, so breath that contains enzymes that reduce skin irritation.Cats spray not only the cats will actually help it adjust to it in the chair next to you and your home or simply have an unpleasant odor.Affected cats are also reports of some of these symptoms occurring over a period of time, release the chemical.Just like spraying urine on the living area of cat flaps styles available to remove remnants of detergent.By allowing your new cats to scratch, try to find some that are harmful to our place when they feel was there idea first.

It can develop an infection in the home lavatory and put foil around the cords.Alternatively, you can get these beautiful yet diffident creatures to run and you get your cat is ready to use corn meal as the Litter BoxesMale cats are less likely to fight while also reducing the cat's overall health care, you can use them and while everyone is walking around your garden.Be consistent, be firm and lightly brown.With young kittens, this could be spread through the ordeal in one room behind closed doors and windows where they should be removed only tiny incisions are needed, usually with no bacteria or other material that feels bristly on its cause.

The litter box could be the result of stress from your veterinarian show you the satisfaction of doing it.Kittens are prone to get around to every use it when it is a very normal activity of cats with longer fur, use a cleaner cat, while the cat with love and respect.If a male cat is going to have to make a loved one, a relative, or a cat scratcher by spraying against a table will trigger your cat seems reluctant using the clawing post?Genetics can play around without touching the fabric to eliminate flea eggs out of heat.These preliminary steps are important especially for children.

How Can I Stop My Female Cat From Spraying

He paid 25.00 to adopt the cat after surgery can prevent them from lingering.Generally they keep the cat is when she uses the litter box.Instead, you should decide whether to keep them busy and prevent further visits to the vet put on the infected area.A homeopathic remedy as a short exploration, she was about to attack them but will chase after preyIs your kitty decides to bring your new scratching post.

Close to a vet which is a chore to determine if a male, someone else will or have irritated skin, your cats needs will reduce roaming behaviour after being neuteredIf you've got yourself one excited kitten and show them that the post and show them the following things are the owner of more than one cat too many, or one that you have applied on the floor and when you start developing the spraying problem.I wasn't sure of no medical reasons for your feline will be important.If you notice your cat will be fair game and since cat pee has had treatment then its behaviour improves almost instantly.However, if the cat get upset when we leave.

[sunlitroom]

Gotham 3.18 – Light the Wick

As I watched it, and with some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

Bruce’s boring training goes on. And on.  Selina is defenestrated.  Jim joins the Court and wonders if his dad felt as dumb in that mask as he does.  Ed shoots Oswald.  Oswald wakes up and tells Ivy there’s someone he needs to kill. Barnes doesn’t need a cure.  Lee flees.

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism.  Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

Arkham, where a straitjacket clad and masked Barnes is being led out through the prison yard - chanting guilty, guilty.  Jervis and his distractingly soft hair watch him being taken away, and wonders aloud in rhyme what’s going on. 

Suddenly, Barnes overpowers the guards and starts beating them, which pleases Jervis. From nowhere, a court assassin appears and tries to stick him with a syringe - and seemingly succeeds, as an enraged Barnes collapses mid-attempted-strangulation of said assassin.  Jervis watches all this, wide-eyed, and wonders what mysterious forces are at play in the dead of night.  

More Jervis please – his glee is much needed.  And his other things..  

(An aside.  As frightening as Barnes is now, he's still vulnerable here, and there’s something about seeing Jervis in his paper hat, wondering aloud in his compulsive rhyme about what's going on, and utterly powerless to do anything that highlights the main thing that makes the Court so repulsive: their firm conviction in their own superiority, which leads to their utter contempt for, but willingness to use, people they deem to be beneath them.  We've seen before that inmates in Arkham are about as vulnerable as you can be in Gotham – viewed as disposable.  Simply taking one of them from a place where they are supposed to be safe just leaves a very nasty taste in the mouth.)

A very red, industrial looking lab with Kathryn and Barnes.  Barnes is not impressed, but Kathryn describes herself as a fan and says she wants the same thing he does.  The Court’s commitment to aesthetic extends to quilted leather straitjackets.

Kathryn says the Court wants Gotham to be judged and the guilty punished.  Barnes promises: release me and I'll do just that.  But Kathryn wants judgment on a large scale.

We need what's inside of you.

Here comes Hugo – and it’s testament to how fantastic BD Wong is that you can recognise him from his walk alone.  It’s also testament that you can find him frightening and loathsome – but still be glued to the screen when he’s on.

Barnes has spotted him to and his face twitches.  There’s hate and revulsion – Strange is a criminal – but there’s also fear, I think. Barnes must remember what Hugo was getting up to.

Don’t worry.  I’ll make sure he doesn't drain you completely.

Strange holds up a syringe.

This might sting

GCPD, the Captain’s Office – where Harvey stares out the window at a rainy city.  Behind him, Lee clears her throat.  She tells him that Uncle Frank’s death was a homicide, and she wants a proper investigation, and Jim questioned.  Harvey asks incredulously if she actually thinks Jim killed Frank and tries to brush her off.  Lee insists that Jim is involved somehow, and wants to know who else is involved.  Harvey puts a hand to his chest in feigned indignation and asks if she’s implying he’s involved.  Lee starts to get more irate

Tell me I'm wrong.  Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm crazy.

Harvey tries to brush her off again, ascribing her behaviour to feeling upset over the whole business with Jim and Mario which – to be honest-  is a bit gross and gaslighting.

Not crazy - hurt – there’s nothing going on

Lee stares at him, hurt, and then turns on her heel.

We used to be friends, Harvey

She promises that she will find out what’s going on.

The Court, where Kathryn is going on about judgment.  Apparently they get to submit lists of some sort.  She enjoys the sound of her own voice for a bit and then wraps up

We are adjourned

Jim watches her replace mask on a stand type thing, and leaves.

Sirens – where Ivy plaintively asks Tabitha if she’s seen Selina.  She says that Selina knew Barbara Kean.  When Tabitha asks if Ivy and Selina hung out, Ivy tells her that Selina is bossy, and that they would get into fights – but yes, they hung out, and they’re kind of friends.  We see Tabitha – who has her back to Ivy – look conflicted for a moment, obviously reminded of Barbara – before turning and telling Ivy that Selina is in Gotham General.

The Court.  Jim is back in the meeting room, trying to scrape skin and hair from Kathryn’s mask in order to try and figure out who she is. He’s caught in the room by another Owl, but manages to make up a lie about not understanding the list thing from the meeting.  Apparently, it’s a list of names of those to be spared.  Jim writes something – I’m guessing Lee’s name, nods, and leaves.

At the hospital, a distraught Ivy spots Selina.

No!  You can't be!

The doctor tries to usher her out, but Ivy wafts a wrist under her nose, and demands to know what happens. The doctor tells her.  We then get a painful reminder that Ivy is – at heart – still a child.

Tell me she's going to be alright

The doctor mindlessly does just as she asks.  Irritated, Ivy asks more carefully.  The doctor says that all they essentially do now is make her comfortable.  Ivy dismisses the doctor.  She tells Selina not to listen to them.

  They can't do what I can do.  I will heal you.  I promise.

In the weird red lab, opera plays while Hugo works while Kathryn watches.  Hugo pouts about being held against his will and doesn't like being hovered over.  Kathryn taunts him about playing nursemaid to Fish, but the taunt doesn’t work, because Hugo is proud of saving Fish.  Kathryn sourly comments that grandstanding doesn’t suit him, and asks if he’s done what was asked of him.  Hugo grandstands some more:

See for yourself

Oh, no.   I hate stuff like this.  A poor man in glass cage begs to know what's going on.  Hugo has figured out how to release the blood as a gas/vapour/whatever, and does so.  The man becomes enraged, and looks rabid.  Kathryn helpfully summarises for anyone who hasn’t been paying attention.

You’ve weaponised the virus.

More of Bruce's boring training.  The man promises he can win and go free.  He goes on about how Bruce thinks pain and anger can be harnessed – but he insists it doesn’t have to be part of him.  Bruce flashes back to his parents’ murder, and loses the fight.  The man asks him why he was defeated.  Er – because you keep sticking needles in his forehead and harping on about his dead parents?

However, he claims it was the emotion that caused the defeat.  He tells Bruce rage and pain are two sides of same coin.  He needs to let go of the pain.

(An aside – which doesn’t happen.  You don’t just let go of that kind of pain.  It’s always there.  And how you’re coping with it fluctuates – but the idea that you can just let it go is a sham)

Harvey calls Jim at home and says that his samples have let them identify Kathryn as a Monroe – an old Gotham family.  Jim outlines an insanely risky plan, which makes even Harvey wince.  He warns Jim about Lee’s request, and tells him she’s in a pretty dark place.  He also mentions Barnes’ transfer before hanging up.

Jim steps outside his front door… and Oswald is waiting in the alley outside his home, standing slightly raised on a staircase, and in front of a sign that says ‘Warning.  Extreme Danger’, because Oswald knows how to make an entrance.

Jim is wide-eyed.  He’s not just shocked.  There’s no amusement in there either – or anything disgruntled.  His response is deep – but there’s something.... clean and soft about it.

Oswald

Oswald smiles.  Hello Jim.

Jim guesses he shouldn't be surprised.  Oswald grins and comments that yes, he is quite hard to kill.  There’s a sudden rush of flame behind Jim – Oswald has brought Firefly. I’m….. not entirely sure what for, exactly?  She’s very conspicuous – and she’s not really needed here.

Anyway – Oswald is looking for Ed, but can’t find him.  He’s quickly twigged what went on with Jim and the Court – because he seems to have regained some of his brains.  Jim plays cagey.  Oswald deliberately brushes past him. Jim doesn’t budge.  Turning back to Jim, Oswald flat out says he thinks Jim’s handed Ed to the Court.  Jim looks him in the eye, and – keeping his voice slow and intent - tells him to drop it, for his own sake.

(An aside - It’s notable that he doesn’t threaten Oswald, or tell him to stay out of something that doesn’t concern him, or complain that he’ll jeopardise a case.  He tells him to stay away to avoid getting hurt.)

Oswald turns, laughing, to Firefly saying that he knew it.  Jim falls back on old habits, grabs Oswald’s lapels, and pulls him close enough that they’re almost nose to nose.

You don’t know anything.  Trust me - let it go.

He tilts his head, and lets a wide-eyed Oswald go – who won’t be dissuaded. He wants Jim to arrange a meet, and leaves a phone with only his number on it.

Jim says that he has the feeling he’s being threatened.  Oswald looks rattled and somewhat hurt by this comment.

This is a favour, Jim

He then looks almost tearful – like he wants reassurance.

After all - we're old friends

(An aside. Having had a recent crash course in exactly how thoroughly friendship can be betrayed - Oswald looks genuinely stung by Jim's comment about being threatened. And I honestly think he's sincere.  He sees them as old friends. It just so happens that lapel-grabbing and tense conversations in alleys with all kinds of undercurrents are part of their friendship. He also has even bigger trust issues than he had before, and he wants Jim to confirm that – yes, they are old friends)

He turns and leaves, with Firefly in wake.  Jim watches him go.  As always with Oswald – it’s hard to tell exactly what Jim is thinking.  His thoughts on Oswald are just as complicated and tangled as Oswald’s are on Jim – but Oswald’s all play out on his face, whereas Jim keeps a stoic face on.

(An aside - You know, if I were to have simply described that scene outside the context of Gotham - a blond, square-jawed detective and a pale, fine-boned gangster meeting in an alley, gazing intensely at each other and standing close enough to feel each other’s breath, while a smiling leather-clad woman holds a flamethrower in the background – you’d think I was describing some particularly extravagant 80s New Romantic music video.  But no – it’s Gotham, and Jim and Oswald playing their usual game)

Jim waits in his car, watching the front door of a very fancy building – presumably Kathryn’s house. He sneaks in after he sees a man leave. It’s all very restrained and correct and upper-class, in Kathryn's house.  I imagine she must despise the likes of Oswald, and Barbara, and Jervis and Fish and the rest. So showy, so vulgar to her.  

 Jim snoops and finds a key card taped to the bottom of a drawer.  He’s caught when Kathryn returns but manages – just about – to rescues the situation.  He tells her that Oswald knows about Ed’s disappearance and will expose the Court if they don’t talk with him.  She’s dismissive, sneering is that all.  Jim ups the ante, and says that he’s proven himself, and wants a seat at the table. She approves of his ambition.  He wants to know that this judgment will be. Kathryn will ask what he’ll do if he doesn’t like what he hears.

She tells him that Gotham is so numb to violence and crime that showing them their darkest self is the only way to get attention.  Kathryn says she’ll consider his request, but that he should leave her house at once.

As he’s leaving the building, Jim calls Harvey and just about yells down the phone about how he knows what’s going on now.  Jesus Christ, Jim. Kathryn watches from the  balcony as he leaves, and presumably wonders why exactly they wanted Jim Gordon again?

Back at GCPD, Jim, Lucius and Harvey talk it through.  There’s a lot of science talk that results in them figuring out that Barnes has been taken in order to synthesise the virus.  There’s only a limited number of Wayne Enterprise Labs, and Lucius thinks he can guess where Barnes is now.

Ivy and two nurses bring plants to Selina's room.  Ivy tells Selina she's always been there for her, even when she screwed up.  She tells her to breathe deep and she'll be here when she wakes up.  Then, she again says something childlike enough to hurt your chest.

Just wake up – ok?

Bruce again.  There’s a lot about rage and giving up memories and emotion as a prison.  They enter a memory and go back to the first time Bruce felt rage after his parents died, at the wake – when mourners were all worried about him, and not angry about the death.  His father was supposed to be buried wearing favourite cufflinks Bruce had bought him, but Bruce couldn’t let them go.

Guru guy says it’s time to let them go.  There’s a safe in the room now.  He tells Bruce that if he locks them away – he’s free of their power

(An aside. Locking away isn't the same as moving on.  It's locking away.  The stuff in the safe doesn't go away, and locking it in a safe is only a confirmation of how powerful it is.  On top of that – if you keep on that path, the safe eventually gets too full, the door bursts open, and then you’re in for a fun period of being very fucked up)

Jim and Harvey enter the creepy lab, now with dead technicians, for added ambience, and encounter the man Hugo demonstrated the virus on.  He says he lost control, and he didn’t want to do it.  Jim tries to arrest him.  He loses his temper and attacks them, strangling Jim before Hugo stops him, plunging a syringe into his neck.

Hugo, as preternaturally calm as ever, glides past Harvey’s clumsy attempt to arrest him.  He’s essentially crafted a plan where he can stay safe whoever wins.  Jim sneers at his playing both sides.  He also gives Jim his notes and a phial of antidote.  He tells them that the delivery mechanism for the virus has arrived, and that if they make any kind of noise or fuss, then the Court will likely just deploy the weapon.   Harvey hilariously calls him a ‘logical bastard’

Jim and Harvey leave. As Jim walks to the car, he practically yells that he

HAS TO FIND OUT WHERE KATHRYN IS TESTING THE BOMB!!!

Jim – you’re a detective. Have you ever noticed how people have ears?

His phone rings.  It’s Kathryn, who tells him to meet her, to judge whether he’s worthy of the light.  Do sod off, Kathryn.  And take your weird God complex with you.

Boring training retreat place, where Bruce defeats his opponent.  Guru guys tells him it’s because he removed the destructive emotions. Bruce says he felt nothing.  The man smiles, and tells him he return to Gotham if he wants - but he can take the pain away.  Bruce decides to continue training.

In yet another fancy building. Jim meets Kathryn.  There’s some kind of social event going on below: ‘Daughters of Gotham’.  She tells Jim to hand over his phone and gun, and then spouts noblesse oblige for a bit before telling Jim about the plan to release the Tetch virus in a bomb.  They’re going to test both Jim and the bomb here: she wants to see whether he is willing to go through with this.  If he tries to stop it – he’ll be executed.  She leaves.

Jim watches the clock and tries to make conversation with Talon.  Remembering Oswald’s phone, he stealthily dials while Talon’s attention is diverted, and manages to get the details of where he is and what’s going on to Oswald – who was initially confused, but catches on fast.

(An aside – the fact that this works as well as it does is testament to how well Jim and Oswald know each other, reinforcing again that they have a long and complex history)

Lucius is at GCPD, locking up a cabinet containing the samples from Hugo.   Lee asks him outright what is going on, and if he’s helping Jim, sucked into his madness.  Lucius tells her more than Harvey

You’ve got it wrong – Jim’s trying to make sure what happened to Mario never happens again

But he stops short of actually telling her the truth, which infuriates her.  She tells Lucius he’s just like everyone else at GCPD, and strides out.

(An aside - I'm very confused about why Lee is being kept in the dark.  She’s clever, resourceful and determined.  It's not like she's untrustworthy, either: she kept quiet enough – after all -  about the fact that Jim has two murders to his name.  So why can't she know about this?  Is it meant to be some hamfisted chivalrous attempt to protect her?  Not sure how she's likely to feel about that one.  She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a child who needs to be protected.)

Back with Jim, the bomb is counting down.  He decides it’s now or never

Screw it (The Gordon family motto)

and starts fighting with Talon.  He’s coming off worse – when there’s a burst of fire, and Talon is roasted and sent backwards through the window.   Oswald and Brigit have arrived.  Jim yells at the screaming crowd to evacuate, and – turning to Oswald – tells him he took long enough -  what with their Mr Rochester/Jane Eyre psychic link and all, Jim clearly expected him to arrive sooner.

Oswald asks about his promised meeting.  Jim tells him that the Court has weaponised the Tetch virus, and that the bomb below will infect everyone in the vicinity.  Oswald’s eyes widen, but he reminds him they had a deal.  Jim says that torching their assassin was probably an effective calling card, and that they’ll be in touch with him.

Jim runs down below and rescues a little girl, before closing the doors on the virus.  I’m dubious that doors in a building that old would be airtight.

The snake oil guru calls Kathryn and says that Bruce has bought into his sales spiel.

Bruce believes in destiny and a life free of pain

Kathryn is pleased, and says that everything is ready.

At the Van Dahl mansion, Oswald is having a tantrum - which seems to entertain Brigit.

Why haven't they made contact, and where the hell is Ivy and the human popsicle?

Elijah’s portrait is very dominant in this scene.  Something speeds past, taking Brigit out, and we see a court assassin.  Jim did tell you to leave this alone, Oswald.

At the hospital, Ivy has turned Selina's room into a greenhouse. Selina breathes, and Ivy starts.

Selina are you ok?  Say something so I know you're ok

Selina says that the room smells like pot pourri

Ivy hugs her – delighted and relieved.  Selina immediate starts unhooking herself from tubes and machines.  Ivy asks her what she’s doing and Selina – in a perfect echo of Oswald a few episodes ago – tells her that she’s got to go kill someone.

Jim walks into the M.E’s room, where Lee is packing up.  She’s resigning and then leaving town.  Jim tells her she belongs here.  She says she thought she did – but Jim infected the place.  She’s done with him, with GCPD, with Gotham.  He’s taken everything away from her, and she has nothing left.  She doesn’t even understand why

And for what?  I would ask for the truth, but you don't even know it.

Jim says he’s done apologising for killing Mario – he was about to kill Lee.  Lee clearly doesn’t believe this.  She says that even before that – Mario was only infected because Jervis was trying to get to Jim.

Jim tells her to go ahead and blame him, and to walk away – but it will not help.  He also throws back at her the accusation she’s made repeatedly – calling her a hypocrite

You keep asking how I could just walk away - move on.  Guess you know now.

Lee looks back at him. There’s nothing positive on her face. Hurt, regret, disgust, dislike – you name it.  

(An aside – Jim’s comment to Lee about walking away flags up the bullshit Bruce is being fed.  Also – I thought we’d see Jim and Lee back together again by the finale, but things look very poisoned).

In her desirable townhouse, Kathryn realises her Wayne Enterprise card is missing.  Ooops, Jim.

In some house belonging to the Court, Oswald is in a cage and, worse, in a grey jumpsuit.

My name is Oswald Cobblepot and I demand to speak to the person in charge.

We hear a gasp, and then Ed’s voice.

Oswald.  You're alive

Oswald turns slowly and stares.

Ed gulps, and you can see genuine fear on his face.  It’s justifiable, because Oswald's possibly never looked as frightening as this before. He lunges at Ed through the bars and, frankly, Ed is probably lucky that he encountered him in this setting, because if Oswald had had a knife in his hand, I think Ed would have been a goner.

In a Court building somewhere, Jim’s disappointed proxy parents have a family chat.  Kathryn apologises to Barnes for turning down his earlier offer of individually meting out punishment.  Her face is twisted with rage when she says that Jim Gordon has been deceiving her from the start.

Barnes eyes go black at the mention of Jim.  Kathryn wants him dead. Straining, Barnes breaks his restraints.

I will be his executioner

Kathryn smiles.

Pain and rage are two sides of the same coin

Bruce’s guide extols the virtue of leaving pain and rage behind and moving on as a solution to pain.

Lee can’t let go of her obsession with what she sees as Jim’s ability to wreck lives and move on, unscathed. It might not make sense, after all, she saw boozy bounty hunter Jim, and knows exactly how close he came to a mafia hit – but she’s fixated on it all the same.

What would possibly help to dissuade her of it would be – you know - actually talking to her.  Lucius comes close, but still leaves her in the dark. Harvey comes uncomfortably close to gaslighting, using her real emotional pain to try and explain away her legitimate suspicions over Frank’s death.

But no-one will talk to her, and now she’s stewing in suspicion, as well as flipping between pain and rage, increasingly landing more on rage. 

Oswald is out for revenge, motivated by rage and pain.  I’d also argue this is a necessity for Oswald, though.  In his line of business, he cannot be seen as weak or vulnerable. It’s not clear how much is known about what happened – but if Oswald wants to regain his crown, he has to send a message about what happens to anyone who crosses him.  He can’t simply move on.

Bruce’s mentor spouts platitudes like a self-help book, and a discredited one at that.  Bruce is to let pain and anger go, but then he’s to lock pain and anger away.  Both are equally facile.  Then he’ll be magically able to move on, clean and in control.  But you can’t let go of loss.  You live with loss.  

Sundries

Ivy – for all we’ve seen her order murders – is a sweetheart.  I can only hope she’s not too horribly hurt by the end of the season.

Fish is conspicuous by her absence. I wonder if Hugo is her man on the inside: we’ve seen her ability to command loyalty before.

I don’t know if Oswald’s referring to Victor as a ‘human popsicle’ bodes well for the freak alliance. At least Ivy hasn’t acquired an unpleasant nickname, for all she calls him Pengy

It would be good if they’d spent more time fleshing Lee out.  She seems utterly alone, and I feel like she would have someone to talk to outside work.  I’m curious to see what the virus does with her. She’s currently preoccupied with Jim, but the virus is supposed to reach into your darkest corners and draw out what it finds.  There is (or should be) more to Lee’s personality than how she relates to Jim.

And still no Mr Zsasz.

Thoughts?

[moveslikekeithrichards]

Chapter 1 of my thing for brofessor andy (tw there's sui and death and shit)

[put under a cut for length, feedback below] [very awesome tho def worth looking at if ur into spoopy shit]

  Same old, same old. I sit down at the desk and get to work, typing up the data collected today. My colleague comes in, “Do you think they’ll ever let us out of here?”

    I nearly rip my hair out. “How many times do I have to tell you? Never. They put us in here and they’ll never let us out for fear of spreading the virus.”

    “Maybe after the war,” he says, shifting from foot to foot.

    “They don’t tell us anything, the war could’ve ended years ago for all we know. And doesn’t it ever bother you?” My words are muffled by the hum of the cleaning robots sliding up the wall, disinfecting as they go. My voice turns to a shout to compensate. “The fact that we’re trapped in here for the rest of our lives. Sometimes the self destruct button is tempting …”

    “You’d use the nuclear place to blow us all up? My son and me are here as well. If you want to off yourself, go ahead. But don’t bring me into it.”

    “Not a bad idea,” I say, heading to the bathroom.

…

No pills, no rope. Nothing. The building’s too secure, no roof to jump off of. My hand goes to my chin to think, and my stubble triggers an idea. I grab my razor and sit on the edge of the bath tub and close my eyes. I take a deep breath. The scent of disinfectant fills and burns my nostrils. I lift the razor and bring it towards my arm.

    Bang. Bang. Bang.

    It sounds like bombs are going off all around me, even inside my head. Everything fades to black.

…

    My eyes open and the lights are so bright. The walls are practically made of light. Something hard presses into the back of my head. “If you do not cooperate, you will be shot.” A guy in uniform says. I say nothing. “Are you aware of what your research is being used for?”

    “No.”

    “What were you doing when we bombed the lab?”

    “About to kill myself.”

    “Why?”

    “They don’t tell me anything. They didn’t plan releasing me. I was nothing more than a number in their equations.”

    “If you work with us, and give you your research, we can promise you freedom and citizenship here, though you will be a traitor to Russia.”

    “Deal.”

    I sit behind the counter of my dad’s record store, scrolling through the news on my phone as a record on the counter spins and Tom Petty drones on about free fallin’. Something about a new disease, World War III is still going on, a new Avengers movie is coming out. There’s no customers; there’s usually not at this time so I consider leaving earlier. The bell on the door dings, announcing that I’m trapped here for another hour. The man says he doesn’t need any help and heads up to the record loft. My attention returns to my phone before the bell dings again.

    A woman walks in, and her face makes my stomach twist. There’s boils and pieces of missing skin. Her eyes have a glassy look. “Miss, are you okay?” I ask. Her mouth goes through the motions, but no words come out. I begin the chew on the inside of my cheek, a nervous tic I developed as a kid as the woman ascends the stairs. A few minutes pass and I hear a scream. I get up on the counter and slide over and make a beeline for the stairs. I head up, taking two steps at a time. The man is laying on the ground dead, bits of his skin missing. The woman’s face is covered with blood and the skin of the man and she lunges at me. I grab a record off the shelf and start hitting her with it, but it does nothing.

    I use the record to shield my skin from her attacks as I walk backwards down the steps. I’m down and I run to the counter. The monster of a woman bumbles and trips her way down the stairs  and should take twice as long to get anywhere. I go over to the record player and rip the stick with the needle off and start hitting her with it. She lets out a scream, but it’s muffled and distorted and sounds almost alien. The warmth of adrenaline courses through me as I hit her again and again, somehow being able to avoid her attacks. She falls to the ground after several minutes. I stomp on her head until I’m sure she won’t be a threat anymore. The effects of the adrenaline wore off, and I now realized the fact that I got attacked by a monster. It’s fucking insane.

    I exit the store and hop into my car. I drive home much faster than usual. My eyes dart around, looking everywhere to see if there’s any more of those monster things in or beside the road. I’m too busy looking for them that I run a red light. Sighing, I slow down and keep my eyes on the road. They play tricks on me and several times I swear I see something out of the corner of my eye. Finally I arrive home, any later and I’m pretty sure I would have gone crazy. It’s late and everyone else is asleep so I immediately head up to my room. I shut and lock my door. I bulldoze the messy pile of video game and band shirts off my bed and into a laundry basket and crawl under the covers.

    Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

    Damn. I’m going to die.

    I glance at my alarm clock. Midnight, and there’s scratching at my door. The thing that tried to kill me earlier used its nails to attack. And there’s scratching at my door. I’m going to die. Logic tells me I should get up and find some kind of weapon. My instincts have me paralyzed out of fear. Breathe.  Gradually I move my arm. Down to the floor. My fingers make contact with the tennis racket under my bed and grasp it, preparing to fight off the intruder.

Meow.

    It’s not even an intruder. It’s my dang cat. I get up and open the door and pet him. After this scare, there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep so I get dressed and head downstairs. I did my hair and makeup much fancier than usual, if I’m losing sleep I can at least look good.

    About an hour before the bus arrives I sit at the kitchen table eating cereal and watching the news. “Due to an outbreak of a new disease, all schools in the district will remain closed,” So I’m all dolled up for nothing. “Experts say the disease is contained to the state and airports are closing in an effort to keep it that way. It’s recommended you stay indoors and avoid crowded places to protect yourself from the illness. If you develop an itchy red rash, seek medical attention immediately as that’s the first sign of the disease. Now onto the weather.” Somehow the peppy newscaster is able to make even a deadly disease sound alright.

    I decide to not waste the day like I normally would. I go over by the front door and grab the leash and harness that are hanging up by my coat. I pick up my tennis racket and some balls and make kissing noises. My cat comes running and I put on his harness. He’s all black and could easily be mistaken for a dog. He’s huge. 30 pounds of cat, no fat. We head out to the backyard and decide to take the leash off. He could get over the fence, but I don’t think he wants to. I ready my racket and pitch a serve to the wall, the ball bounces back and I hit it again. This time I catch it instead of hitting it again because I feel an itch and need to scratch my back. My nails dig into the soft skin of my arm and it feels delightful.

    “Hey, Lulu!” someone calls from behind the fence I just served a ball at. It’s my friend, Jakob. He scales over the wall like he’s done many times and his eyes travel up and down my body. “Skank,” he snickers, referring to my short tennis skirt. I roll my eyes and throw a ball at him. “Jesus. I’m not here to look at your ass, I’m here to talk about the fact that there’s a fucking zombie apocalypse happening.”

“No, there’s not. You’re so gullible. It’s just a disease making people crazy or something-” I’m interrupted by a scream.

“Welp, I’m out.” Jakob says before going back into his house.

    A waterfall of purple leaves drooping from the willow tree in the yard block view of the neighbor’s yard. There’s nothing on any of the other sides, just forest. I pull back the ropes of leaves to look. My neighbor lies unconscious on the ground. I quickly put Salem back inside and jump the fence. The elderly woman has a huge boil on her face. I nearly throw up. It’s filled with some kind of liquid and I can see something small wiggling inside of it. I forget how to move for a minute, and then my body catches up to my brain and I dial 911. I reach down feel her pulse. She’s dead.

    The paramedics come, ask me my name and if I know anything about her. I don’t. They put her into the back of the ambulance, and as the door close I see the boil pop, and she bolts up, her eyes glaze over.

Then, a guy who can’t be much older than me comes up. Despite his young age, he has some kind of uniform decorated with tons of badges. “What do you know about that lady?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Do you know anything about the ‘outbreak’?” The way he says outbreak sends chills up my spine.

“I was in a fight with one of the infected people.”

“Any rashes, itches?” I shake my head no. “Fever?”

“No, I’ve been totally fine.” He grabs my arm and yanks me away.

I slap him. “I don’t care where you’re taking me,but Jakob’s coming.” He’s completely unfazed by the slap and nods his head.

my dude, my bro, this is excellent, i love the way u add detailed description that one can picture easily without running on too long & also how u use subtle things like the narrators possessions to add character. i esp love the bit with the neighbor its such a quick thing but v nasty it sticks with u 10/10

the only thing thats bugging me is the inconsistency with indentation at the beginning of paragraphs/dialogue but idk if thats just something tumblr did? either way very awesome super cool concept u got going here & v easy to read too w/o being overly simple (not that theres anything wrong with simplicity)