#grumpy!! i keep getting so close to existing as a functional human and then [makes a little person walking with my middle and pointer

[perditious]

a friend from back when i couldn’t differentiate between ppl who liked to be the recipients of my undiluted affection and ppl who liked me as a like. human beeeeing used to call this mood ‘c throws all her toys out the pram’ and while she was correct i’ve been wondering idly for years now if she ever like. liked anything about me as a person.

#to be fair to her i am feeling petulant and dramatic lol #grumpy!! i keep getting so close to existing as a functional human and then [makes a little person walking with my middle and pointer #fingers and then shows them falling off a cliff]

[everlarkficexchange]

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: E

The room’s dark. There’s only one small lamp burning in the corner, but that makes the single candle in the cupcake brighter than it would have been if the entire area were lit. It’s a somber celebration, but that doesn’t make much difference. It’s as it should be.

“Happy birthday, dear Katniss… Happy birthday to you.”

As the last note fades into silence, Katniss whispers a birthday wish and blows out the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” she mumbles. She’s alone and tired and feeling older than she thought she could. In the grand scheme of things, forty isn’t that many years, but the difference between her fourth and fifth decades seems like lightyears. She’s halfway (or more) through life, and she’s hiding from it.

No one could really blame her for running—not with the experiences she’s faced. Her father gone as a young man leaving Katniss, her mother, and her younger sister Prim alone with practically no income and empty stomachs that gnawed at her insides for months as she fell asleep. Her mother falling into addiction to anti-depressants and opiates leaving Katniss to keep the household together so she and Prim wouldn’t be taken by child services and separated. Her beloved sister gone in a house fire that ripped through the apartment building where she’d stayed while enrolled in med school in a neighboring state. That’s enough tragedy for any one person, and that doesn’t even count her own pain and disappointments during the past forty years.

She’s suffered plenty of both. There’ve been days when she has no idea how she continues to function, but she puts one foot in front of the other repeatedly, doggedly, hoping against hope that something will go right for her. The odds should be in her favor, but they never seem to be. Instead, she watches as the world goes by and wonders if she’s brave enough to step back into society and join the rest of the living. She’s been in mourning for long enough.

Forty. It’s a scary number, but it’s also a little motivating. With a shake of her head, she decides. It’s time. Prim would want her to be happy. She’d be furious at the way Katniss has shut herself off from everyone in order to protect herself. If there’s anything that can drive her out of her shell, it’s thinking about the disappointment that would shine in her sister’s eyes if she were still alive.

“It’s time to rejoin the living, Everdeen.”

Her voice is small as it echoes in her empty apartment, but that’s not the intimidating part. What’s terrifying is that she has absolutely no idea how to get back out there. It’s been almost a decade since she bothered, and she can’t help wondering if maybe she’s waited too long. It’s possible there’s an expiration date, and she’s past it.

It’s late, and she’s tired. Heaving a sigh, she heads to her new bedroom and plugs in the airbed to blow it up. Her belongings won’t arrive for another few days, and the thought of sleeping on the hard floor is the reason for her last minute purchase at the local department store. Shaking out freshly laundered sheets as she retrieves them from the dryer, she inhales the clean scent and tucks the corners onto the air mattress. A pillow and blanket that made the cut when she purged her possessions before her interstate move provides a tiny hint of home. Flicking off the overhead light, she closes her eyes and drifts into sleep. She counts the fact that she only wakes from nightmares three times as a win.

****

“I like that there,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts the picture on the shelf to the left of her television. It’s her favorite of the ones she and Prim took together before her sister started med school.

They’d been so happy, arms wrapped around each other and a rare smile gracing her own lips. As it always had, Prim’s grin stretches across her face, and her blue eyes snap with excitement in the image. She deserved so much better than to become a human torch because someone was stupid enough to not know how to douse a grease fire. The senselessness of it all hits Katniss again. Someone cooked dinner, and that act killed her sister. Prim, who only wanted to heal people, died because an idiot didn’t know how to make bacon and then tried to douse the flames with water.

A knock sounds at her door and shakes her out of her reverie. She isn’t expecting anyone, but a second knock convinces her she shouldn’t ignore it. It could be her landlord, and the last thing she wants is a grumpy Haymitch Abernathy yelling at her because she’s inadvertently broken some rule she doesn’t even know exists in the first place. Tossing her braid over her left shoulder, she crosses her apartment and answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

She’s surprised she can get the words out of her mouth. The man standing there definitely isn’t her landlord, and he’s not old, grumpy, or drunk like Haymitch obviously has been every time she’s seen him. The guy standing in front of her must be about her age, maybe a few years younger, and he has shockingly blue eyes which remind her of her sister’s, as well as the same ashy blonde hair that falls in a shock of curls over his forehead. She has the sudden urge to reach up and push them back, but she keeps her hands at her sides. It would be exceptionally inappropriate to grope a total stranger, even if he is standing in her doorway with a smile and a paper bag that smells something like heaven.

“I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Your next door neighbor. I brought you some pastries.”

“Pasties?” She squeaks out the word and immediately wants to smack herself. She sounds a little like a mouse, while his voice makes her insides vibrate. Also, what did she just say?

Peeta does a double take before bursting into laughter. “Pastries, not pasties. I’m not into that— Well, I mean…uh… I mean, I could be, but not the first time I meet a woman.”

His face is bright red, but hers feels like it’s flaming. She can’t believe she said that and crosses her arms unconsciously to cover her breasts before uncrossing them just as quickly. She’s not sure which is worse at drawing attention to the fact that she has nipples that pasties would cover, and… Hell, she’s spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “That was unseemly.”

“It’s fine. Hilarious, actually.” He grins and gives her a onceover, which makes her blush even harder.

“Well, pastries make way more sense and smell a lot better. But, why?” She’s not sure if that sounds rude or not, but it’s better than what she’s already blurted.

“I’m a baker,” he offers in explanation. “Just a little welcome to the building, uh…?”

“Uh…?”

She can’t think. He’s staring at her, and it makes her extremely uncomfortable in a very peculiar way. She’s not able to name it, but there’s something bubbling below the surface. If she concentrates really hard, she could probably identify the feeling. However, that’s not an option when Baker Boy is standing there with a perplexed look.

“You are?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. Just moved in. You probably already knew that. I, uh, thank you. This is great.”

“You’re welcome. Welcome to the building, Katniss, Katniss Everdeen. Let me know if you need anything. I always have eggs and sugar and more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. Think on it.”

With that, he disappears into his own apartment, and she’s left holding the bag. Literally.

In a trance, she crosses to her kitchen and sets the pastries down on the counter. Flustered, she pulls a bun out and sinks her teeth into a little bite of decadence that’s got to be illegal in all fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and half of Europe. It tastes so good it’s sinful. It’s doughy and filled with cheese, and she moans so loudly she wonders if he can hear her through their shared wall.

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

She sits there with a grin on her face for a stupid amount of time before realizing she’s hungry for more, and it’s not necessarily baked goods she wants.

****

Katniss rounds the corner and smacks into a wall. With a loud oof and a screech, she flails in her attempt to stay upright and keep her groceries from falling around her. Just when she’s about to lose it all, strong arms grab her and pull her upright. Relieved, she looks up and falls into the blue pools of her neighbor’s eyes.

“Easy there,” he says with the hint of a smile. “Where’s the fire?”

She almost says, “In my pants.” She really does, but she’s made a fool out of herself enough with him already. She frees herself from his clutches and congratulates herself on remaining calm, and then she sees what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much.

“Holy hell,” she murmurs at the sight of sweat-soaked skin and form-fitting running shorts.

“Sorry. I just got back from a run.”

“I…yeah. I see that.”

She can see some other stuff, too, and it is impressive. She can’t stop looking at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and she’s just told herself a few days ago that she needs to get back out there and has no idea how. She did say that, and here he is. She doesn’t even have to leave her building to find an opportunity. There’s no way she’s this lucky.

“Can I help with those?” He nods at the bags she’s holding and reaches out to take the ones hanging from her wrists. He brushes her hand with his, and her insides sizzle.

“Sure.”

She’s going to seduce him. Or let him seduce her. Or get him drunk and take advantage of him. Or something.

Every single fiber in her body tingles. It feels like waking up after a decade long nap and feeling simultaneously ravenous and powerful beyond belief. As he follows her into her apartment, she scans the area and decides to just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? Her neighbor hates her? Well, that would be terrible, but she can move. That’s how turned on she is by him. She’ll risk a broken lease.

“You can just put them there,” she says softly and runs her hand down his arm. He freezes and looks at her, and she stands her ground. Maybe she’s not thinking straight, but she wants him. Now.

“Katniss?”

She presses into him and trails a finger down her bare chest. She wipes a sweat droplet from his skin and bites her bottom lip.

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I’m not misreading this, am I?”

She wraps her arms around his neck and tips her head back. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls.

Looking directly at him, she says, “I really hope so.”

“Oh, hell.”

His mouth captures hers in a searing kiss, and she turns off her brain. She has no intention of thinking, only feeling for the next however long. His tongue is in her mouth, her hands are on his ass, and his sweat dampens her clothes.

Peeta hoists her into the air and wraps her legs around his waist. He stumbles backward to deposit her on the edge of the countertop and rucks up her shirt to slide his hands along her waist. Frantic, she tugs at his waistband, indicating she’d prefer he lose the shorts, and he growls into her mouth when she slips them over his hips. She cups his backside, pulling him between her legs and moans against him.

“Please,” she gasps. “Fuck, please.”

He’s frenetic, all power and kinetic energy as he rolls her leggings down her thighs, baring her to him. When she bites his lower lip, he grunts and shoves his hands between her legs. He pushes inside her roughly, and she whimpers at his pace. His thumb’s on her clit, and his middle finger plunders her as their tongues tangle and dance together.

She’s got him in her hand, jerking and tugging as he swells in her palm. It’s a solid weight there, but she wants it inside her. She doesn’t have time to look. She’s too enthralled in what his lips are saying as they mate with hers.

Katniss tugs one of her feet free and yanks him to her with her legs. His shaft is hot against her slit. She begs for him with her hands and body, but he pulls back slightly to catch her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice ragged and broken. She nods frantically, and he moans in the back of his throat. “I’ll pull out. I promise.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’d agree to about anything as long as he gives it to her hard. Then he’s inside her, stretching her as she calls his name. He’s big enough that it’s uncomfortable at first, until her body adjusts to the intrusion and she’s aching for more. By the time she’s relaxed, he’s pumping into her with her name falling from his lips as he bites and licks at her jawline.

“Tug my hair,” she manages to instruct, and he yanks on her braid so hard her eyes water. It’s sexy as hell, and she grapples at his back in an attempt to pull him further inside her. He’s good at this, she realizes. Really good at it, and she thanks her lucky stars she’s the fortunate recipient of such a fantastic experience. He’s doing everything he can to make it good for her, and it really, really, really is.

What they’re doing is so messy, but she doesn’t care. She owns bleach and anti-bacterial cleaning supplies. She just purchased them, in fact, and she’s going to need all of them if the mess between her legs is any indication. She’s quickly losing control, fucking against him as hard as she can.

Skin slaps together, sweat pours off them both, and he nuzzles his face into her shirt. If they had more time, she’d take it off for him—maybe she’ll wear pasties next time just to blow his mind—but they’re careening toward a climax faster than she knows how to handle. She’s desperate for more friction, so eager that she rubs herself as his thrusts stutter and falter.

“I gotta pull out. I’m gonna— shit!”

He yanks free, and she catches the sight of him before her eyes roll back in her head. His skin is pink and glistening with moisture from her body. The first splash of his climax hits warm and wet on her leg, and she arches her back as waves roll through her. Her hand cramps as she contorts it. Her hips buck, and then she’s reaching for him. She clings as her body tenses and releases repeatedly.

When it’s over, she huffs several breaths before blinking open her eyes. Her t-shirt hem has fallen against her thigh, and it’s marked with his ejaculate, as is most of her thigh and stomach. He pants into her ear, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. That’s fine with her, although it surprises her how affectionate he’s being in the aftermath of a quickie in her kitchen.

“Katniss, that was—”

“Something we need to do again.”

“I think it gives new meaning to the phrase ‘welcome wagon.’”

“Because you want me to ride you next time?”

“Next time?” His eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated as he realizes what she’s saying. “You want there to be a next time?”

“I’m not sure I want this one to be over.”

He flushes at her suggestion, but he’s a very helpful neighbor. Before he leaves to head back to his own apartment, he cleans up and then eats to his heart’s content. She’s pretty satiated from his visit, too.

#hutchhitched #prompt 34 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[goldencorecrunches]

LanLan Rural Vet/Animal Sanctuary AU ~ from the LanLan discord --

It was the rain that made Lan Xichen start laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry. Oh dear," he said, one hand pressed to his chest in the passenger seat, the corners of his mouth helplessly turned upward. Thunder boomed, heaven's drums arguing from far away: Lan Xichen bent forward and laughed harder, cupping the back of his head. Song Lan didn't feel the urge to laugh himself, but he could appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of the bad luck that kept finding them today. First Wen Qing, his tech, had come in sneezing like an elephant with a head cold and so he'd sent her home with stern instructions not to return until she was better. Then he'd gotten a call from the farmer who'd dug the ancestral plow farthest up the farthest mountain to come quick because his best cow was in labor, and having trouble with it-- the cow Song Lan had not been told was pregnant. 

Then his car had refused to start, and he'd had to bargain with the grumpy auntie who delivered the post for the use of her shuddering pickup truck, a behemoth half rusted through that definitely hadn't seen the wet side of a sponge for many a long-toothed year. Then Lan Xichen, the director of the backcountry vet-and-sanctuary, had come rushing out as he'd pulled onto the gravel road, begging to come with so he could escape for a few hours his visiting uncle. (That part hadn't been so bad-- driving with Lan Xichen up the winding country road, the valley unfolding out beneath them, summer trees vibrant and lush on either side. Auntie's truck had no air conditioning, of course, so they'd rolled down the windows with the grating hand cranks and the short pieces of hair that had come loose from Lan Xichen's ponytail had blown around his face, his smiling eyes.)

(When Song Lan had taken this job, a year ago come June, he had not expected the pre-existing half of the administration to be the most beautiful man he had ever seen. "Zichen," Xingchen had said to him over video call that night, teasing, "you're such a hopeless romantic. Talk to him! Get to know each other! What could go so terribly wrong?" "He could drag me halfway across the world with only a backpack and a single change of clothes," Song Lan had signed back, biting the mirth into the side of his cheek, and Xingchen had blushed, pretty pink up to their hairline. Song Lan missed them. Of course. They were coming in fall, a hard-wrestled break in their schedule that they guarded against teenage fervency and staid official alike, and Song Lan couldn't tally the days until then without breaking his own heart.)

Up the mountain, the cow had not been giving birth to anything but her own insides. The farmer was not pleased when Song Lan through Lan Xichen told him this, elbow-deep, as if Song Lan had come all the way out there from some cattle-themed plot of revenge. He likely wouldn't call Song Lan again even if the situation was dire, which meant his animals would go untreated; the knowledge of it itched under Song Lan's skin, making him have to grimace apologetically at Lan Xichen when on the drive back he realized his own company was less than engaging. And then Auntie's truck had made a noise like a steel chain through a meat grinder and stopped in the middle of the road. And then it had started raining. Lan Xichen's laughter was running up the wrong side of hysteria. Seeing the rain start to darken the shirt over his shoulder, feeling the damp on his own, Song Lan reached around Lan Xichen's back and dragged at the handle until the window began to close. One perk of old trucks-- when they broke down on you, you could still work the windows. He repeated the process on his own side, focusing furiously on not being weird about the heat of Lan Xichen's body he'd felt press against his own arm and chest leaning over. The air inside the cab immediately became sticky and stale. "It's just-- I was supposed to take my uncle out for dinner tonight-- he's going to be so annoyed--" Gently, feeling a nervous spark in his belly at the presumption, Song Lan laid a hand on the sleeve of Lan Xichen's collared shirt. To his great relief Lan Xichen leaned into the pressure. It seemed to give him the wherewithal to swallow his frantic giggling, his shoulders shaking as he hiccuped; Song Lan tapped his thumb in the crook of Lan Xichen's elbow in a manner he hoped was comforting. (People were always surprised, either when they found out he was a veterinarian, or when they found out he was, as one receptionist had put it, a "clean freak;" they didn't go together in public consciousness. Usually Song Lan lacked the energy to explain that it was about where dirtiness belonged. An exam table should be sterile. The animal upon it should not be: if it was, it would be dead. Humans were the difficult ones, because they ought to wash their hands more than they usually did.) (Besides, it wasn't like he didn't wear gloves.) Finally taking a deep, shaky breath, Lan Xichen sat upright and let his hands fall into his lap. He peeked at Song Lan from the corner of his eye. "I'm...well. In control again, I suppose. Oh, that was embarrassing." His arm jumped under Song Lan's palm, but he did not pull away.

"This is certainly...an adventure," Song Lan signed with his free hand. Lan Xichen's smile went wide for a moment, lopsided, and Song Lan felt the victory like a hot drink on a cold day. "It has been," Lan Xichen agreed. He fidgeted with the denim over his knees. Well: tried to. It was tight denim. There wasn't a lot to fidget with.  "I should call the clinic and tell them we're stranded. If we'll get any reception up here, and with the rain." He sounded reluctant. Song Lan, personally, wanted to get back to his own house and get under Xingchen's knitted blanket and tell the world to go fuck itself dry, but he didn't have an...uncle, waiting for him. Creeping over him was the unshakeable sense that he had been gifted something precious, in Lan Xichen's vulnerability. Despite his easy manner and his compassion, Lan Xichen was, Song Lan had decided during several months of study, terribly lonely, and unsure how to stop. He held himself apart without seeming to, diverting questions back to shared interests, breezily finding an excuse every time their little mob of vet-techs and animal-enthusiasts invited him to join them after hours; and it did not help that to an individual they all viewed him with something of awe. When you were that good-looking, and that kind, it came with the territory. So Song Lan pushed down the irritation at being stuck in the oxidizing shell of what had once been a functional vehicle and unbuckled his seatbelt. Struggling a little in the confined space, he shucked his sturdy flannel and held it out. Lan Xichen stared at him, mouth open ever so slightly. His eyes were shining; Song Lan could feel the back of his neck heat up. "You take a nap under this," he signed, awkward. "Let me call. My phone's got better range anyway." "Because it's not a fancy bit of overpriced nonsense?" Despite himself Song Lan snorted; he and Lan Xichen had antagonistic views towards personal technology. "Exactly." "It's soft," Lan Xichen murmured, as his fingers closed over the dark green plaid. Song Lan tried to pretend he wasn't flushing thoroughly. (When they were rescued, three hours later, by Wen Qing's younger brother in his mountain-tire-fitted jeep, Song Lan had to touch Lan Xichen's shoulder to shake him awake. In the grey light from the overcast sky he seemed to blur, at the edges, soft and precious as a rabbit's underbelly. Song Lan swallowed thickly and looked away. "Keep it," he signed, when Lan Xichen tried to hand back the flannel. It was chilly in just his t-shirt, but that was all right. He'd survive. "It suits you better than it does me." "I don't think I agree with that," Lan Xichen said, and by the time Song Lan had recovered from his subsequent heart attack Lan Xichen was meters away, climbing up his own porch with Song Lan's shirt wrapped around him, pulled tight against the cool post-storm crispness.)

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #song lan #lan xichen #lanlan #they get trapped in a truck in the rain on a mountain together and song lan has Feelings #my fics #oh i didnt specify but xingchen is an international environmental activist and worker #lanlan rural vet au #fic: lanlan rural vet au

[beautifulterriblequeen]

King Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves

This post will have several sections. They’ll be as follows.

Runaan is a king, and Rayla is his heir (this post)

Runaan had to confess his love first, because he is the king

Ethari’s entire skill set is now dedicated to keeping the king of the Moonshadow elves alive

Rayla's self-worth issues

Viren did invite the assassins just like he said Amaya accused him of. One assassin in particular

Aaravos and Viren may both want to spend Runaan in the future

1. Runaan is the king of the Moonshadow elves

Angst Rating: 1/10

This theory came to me with one specific image in mind, while talking theories with @kotikala​ yesterday. But it got anchored by two other things. Rayla’s grumpy face behind Runaan’s back in S1E2 when he called her the fastest and strongest of all of us, and the fact that Runaan has a 3D model with a post-battle torn vest, and another with no shirt. These three things. Plus a year and a half’s worth of theories--many of which I had lying around with no bigger picture in mind until last night--and rewatches. I feel simultaneously giddy and stupid as hell.

That one image was Runaan’s shoulder markings.

They are in fact like Aaravos’s crown shape, with a round moon instead of a second diamond,

but not because Runaan’s markings reference Aaravos. Because Runaan is royalty just like Aaravos.

This double diamond shape appears in Katolis, too, on the armor of the king’s army and even Callum’s scarf.

It’s also right there on top of Khessa’s crown, looking very similar to Runaan’s markings, with a round disc replacing one of the diamonds. In this case, it represents the sun instead of the moon.

Runaan doesn’t wear a crown anytime we see him. He might not have a crown at all, since he’s a warrior king who has “seen his share of hardship and war.” But he paints that symbol on his arms and wears his rank as king for everyone to see. He might never have had an older symbol on his arms at all, since he was born to this.

His face markings are the shadow of an assassin hood. He never needs to wear his because he’s internalized his duty so well. And he has probably had these markings since he was tiny, because there was never any question about his future.

Kings generally come with castles. This is Runaan’s castle. 

A thousand-year-old tree near the edge of the village. It was probably either planted or reshaped when the Moonshadows had to move eastward out of Katolis following the Merciful Compromise, and it’s been the royal dwelling ever since. Ah, tradition. This wasn’t Ethari’s home because it had space for a forge in it. It’s Runaan’s home, and his home is literally his castle. (How many levels does it have in there, and does anyone else live with them? I have such questions)

Moonshadow elves are forest elves at heart. Runaan lives in a tree, while his people live in ordinary houses. 

The tree house is the best and brightest home any of them could imagine. So Runaan’s tunic bears the symbol of a tree trunk on it. He is the stable trunk of his people, and they branch from him and the anchoring stability he provides. His tree tunic is his royal robes of office, marked with the symbol of his (literal and metaphoric) house.

The Moon Druid link has been pretty well theorized in general, if not in specific, before now, but here’s a summary: the Moon Druids of old used to live in Katolis’s forest, around the Moon Nexus. When the border was drawn 1000 years ago after the Merciful Compromise was suggested by the daughter of the Moonshadow ruler, the elves had to leave. They destroyed the Nexus, left a guardian, and settled/resettled in the Moonshadow Forest, reestablishing their rule in the east and taking up the dark and sacred duty of protecting Xadia from dangerous humans by assassinating them, so their merciful agreement to spare all the humans never brought disaster. 

When Runaan took his team back west, he performed the binding ceremony in an ancient grove with six trees and a moon-rune-shaped water border. It was his own people’s ancient grove.

The Moon Druids stood like this.

And so does Runaan.

His accent and Lujanne’s are the only two British voices among all the Scottish Moonshadows. One of them guards the Moon Nexus, where the Moon Druids used to live. The other is currently ruling from the Silvergrove.

The Silvergrove is the only place labeled in the Moonshadow forest. On a map, if you’re only going to have one city, you label the capital. I didn’t understand the relationship between the Silvergrove, the assassins, and the human kingdoms before. I thought it was a border village. But it’s deep in the forest, at its heart.

Runaan didn’t come to the Silvergrove to train to be an assassin. He was born there. The Silvergrove and the assassins were always the intimately connected. The Moon Druids became assassins to uphold their sacred duty. Wherever they live, that’s where the assassins train.

Runaan was once drawn younger in this outfit. It’s blurry but the white text reads “younger Runaan?”

It got morphed into someone else. But look at this dynamic. This is clearly a Moonshadow leader and his close ally—his son. His son the assassin.

The Moonshadow staff used to look like this a thousand years ago.

Then it got stabby.

Now it looks like this.

My heart for Xadia, indeed. That line might very well be reserved only for the ruler and his heir to swear.

Runaan’s bio says he “cares deeply for his people.” That means all of the Moonshadow elves. And he’s called, in full, Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves. That’s a title.

Rayla gave her name to Sol Regem in that format, too. Rayla of the Moonshadow Elves. Because Rayla is Runaan’s legal heir. He’s a gay elf and won’t be having his own kids. So he chose his best friends’ child to follow him in succession. He’s been training his own replacement since she could walk.

Rayla is the Moonshadow Princess and she has her own title.

I think part of the reason I didn’t see Runaan for the king he was, or even the prince I used to think he was, had to do with my assumptions that any Moonshadow ruler would preside over a community similar in setup to Khessa and Harrow. Big, obvious, powerful. Meant to be seen. But that’s not the Moonshadow way. Even though Runaan’s tree castle is literally all of those things. I just wasn’t speaking Moonshadow fluently enough yet.

Runaan’s rule, and the Moonshadows in general, really give me a Viking-era England feel. England was comprised of several small kingdoms before the time of Alfred the Great. They never covered too much territory, and they weren’t very centrally organized. You might get a handful of heavily walled towns, and if there was trouble, all the citizens outside the walls would scamper in for safety. (Imagine the Silvergrove’s moondome functioning like the dome over Wakanda’s capital city when Thanos’s minions attacked in Infinity War. Nice, huh?)

Runaan has that local-king feel. His position is a martial one. He leads from the front. He’s very focused on upholding his duty, not looking cool in furs and crowns or whatever. He either gave his own oath to the Dragon King and Queen, or he was already bound to a pre-existing oath, Oath of Féanor-style, and that promise rules his life. His life, but not his heart. So he lives in his quiet little village with his cute craftsman husband and all his people and his blood promise, and he trains with focused dedication to uphold his people’s honor with maximum efficiency and safety for his own assassins.

Things that hit differently now

Amaya hates Moonshadows the most because their king kills

Kings probably aren’t good cooks

Why no one spoke against Runaan when he said a teenager was coming on his mission

Of course they used the pool outside the tree house for the lotus ritual. That’s the royal pool outside the royal palace.

Of course Runaan had to ghost his friends. They were assassins, and he was their leader and king. He had to lead the ghosting.

Duty before love makes so much more tragic sense now

Literally yesterday I posted about Runaan’s biological legacy not being called into question regarding Rayla’s parents’ failure. But she is his heir, so his wisdom was being questioned.

“When Someone Great is Gone” from Devon’s Runaan/Ethari playlist

Runaan and Harrow are both kings bound by literal and metaphorical chains. Neither is free

“Justice will not be denied/Your justice will come later/Humans are liars”

“My heart for Xadia”

“You let him live, but you’ve killed us all”

Basically every word Runaan has ever said

part 2

#tdp theory #moonshadow elves #moonshadow assassins #moon druids #runaan #rayla #king runaan #prince runaan #oop he got an upgrade #tdp headcanons #tdp speculation #tdp meta

[recurring-polynya]

What comparisons can be made between renruki and Ichiruki? I often wondered about this.

This is such a hot button issue that as soon as I received this (perfectly polite) ask, my body tensed up and my brain went Am I being trolled?

It’s honestly a shame that there is so much bad blood behind this, because it is, in fact, a very interesting thing to talk about, and I am going to attempt to do so in good faith, because I love thinking about this kind of thing. Even though I am very openly a Renruki shipper, I love all three of these characters very much, and I think that Ichigo and Rukia’s relationship is very important! I am doing my best to be neutral, although I have not read very much Ichiruki fanfic/meta, so please give me a benefit of a doubt. Obviously, I can’t stop anyone from reblogging this and putting their own comments on it, but I have no interest in getting in debates over it, so don’t be surprised if I don’t engage.

This is both long, and I am sure some people don’t care, so I’m gonna put the rest under a cut. I have tried to hard to write this in a way that will not make anyone mad, but if you think it will make you mad, please give yourself the gift of not clicking on it.

So, what is the same between Ichigo and Renji? Lots, actually. Physically, they are both tall, strong, and have ridiculously colored spiky hair. They are outwardly grumpy, but secretly have soft, gooey centers. Neither one of them is dumb, but they are both dumbasses. They are protectors: they would rather take any amount of pain or damage onto themselves than see a loved one hurt. Their friends are everything to them, and that goes triple for Rukia.

How are they different, then? There are three major bullets:

- Ichigo is alive. Renji is dead. Perhaps this is a little flip, but Renji belongs to same world that Rukia does, and Ichigo does not. This is not a value judgment, it is just a fact: If Rukia ends up with Renji, she stays where she is. If she ends up with Ichigo, either Rukia or Ichigo have to make a huge change. I will get back to this.

- Youth vs. Experience. Ichigo is a 15-year old boy, as we are told about 1000 times. There is some mystery over how old Rukia and Renji are, but they have graduated from secondary education and are currently employed. I think it’s safe to assume that they are roughly close in age to each other, but I think Rukia may perceive Renji as seeming older than herself-- he graduated from school, and she didn’t; he’s on his third squad transfer, whereas she’s hasn’t budged from her initial, entry-level job, and he’s now middle management. However, the arc of the story we don’t get to see, is that over the timeskips, Rukia not only catches up to, but surpasses him. Also, not for nothing, but I think that in the same way Rukia is immediately drawn to Ichigo because of his resemblance to Kaien, I think she is also drawn to him for his resemblance to Young Renji-- a grumpy, prickly young man, leaking self-doubt from every pore, whom she is more able to be generous towards through the lens of age and experience. (And I think this comparison could support either ship)

- Ichigo is the protagonist. Rules don’t apply to him. Fate breaks on his sword. He represents the triumph of love or hard work or dreams or what have you over the cruel millstone of the world. Renji, on the other hand, is firmly bound to the rules of the world in which he inhabits. In fact, that is arguably the entire purpose of his character. Renji’s fights are often used to set the stakes of the conflict-- ah, Renji got mangled, this guy must be tough. In the Soul Society Arc, he is an antagonist because he is doing what he is supposed to. In the TYBW, Kubo literally throws the two of them in a pit to fight some asauchi just to make the point that Renji is a shinigami and Ichigo is something else.

Let’s jump over to Rukia for a moment. Rukia is a great character, one of my favorite characters in any media. Rukia contains multitudes. She is tough and strong, but often melancholy. She can be beautiful and elegant, but she also lies and breaks rules and tried to put Kon in a dead cat once. Emotionally, she likes to present a cool front, but she has a big, loving heart, and she feels deeply. As a character, all of this makes her very easy to project onto, which is why I think so many people OTP her with someone, no matter who.Some people choose to try to make her into one of these things or another, and some people try to keep her as the full bundle of contradictions that she is.

There is no romantic content in canon Bleach. There is no romantic content in canon Bleach. There are many, many scenes that can be interpreted romantically, but no one goes on a date, no one kisses. Ichigo gazes longingly into the eyes of all his friends, it’s just a thing he does. Orihime does explicitly proclaim at one point that she loves Rukia, although I suspect that in the original Japanese, it’s the word for “friendship love” and not the very-rarely-used “romantic love.” I have seen a scene-for-scene comparison of IchiHime “romantic moments” only it’s Chad and Uryuu (which I choose to believe supports IshiChad, rather than negates IchiHime, but we may all choose for ourselves!) My point is that shipping in Bleach is a DIY craft, which, when we’re all having a good time, is what makes it so fun.

So, bringing all of this together, given that Ichigo and Renji are fairly similar characters, why are the ships so different, and what makes one appeal to some people and be abhorrent to someone else?

I think about romance stories a lot. I actually took a class on romance novels in college and I just really like to think about the mechanics of stories. In the truest sense of the word, “romance” is about extremes-- about sailing the high seas and wearing ostentatious shirts and shouting off a cliff in a rainstorm. When we talk about romance as a genre, the characters tend to behave in a way that we would not prefer our actual romantic partners do, but the over-the-top nature of it makes us swoon and our hearts drop -- except when it doesn’t. What is heart-breakingly romantic to some people can be a huge turn-off to others. The biggest fight my husband and I have ever had was over a kdrama. The male lead was hiding his identity from the female lead in order to help her, and I found it all to be deeply, deeply romantic, and my husband turned to me and said “He is being dishonest with her and I think it’s morally wrong” and I almost died.

So, let’s break down some of the themes of the two ships, which I think gets at the meat of what you were asking. Now, like I said, shipping is very participatory, and anyone may have their own ideas of how these relationships would be, and I am a big fan of “a great writer can get away with anything”, but in broad strokes, I think that these are the themes of the two ships:

IchiRuki:

Love conquers all/ Love is enough to overcome differences of class, age, lifestyle, geography, etc.

Instant connections/Love at first sight

Love is a force of the universe that cannot be denied or defeated

Young love

Grand gestures

Your partner changes you (in a positive way)/You effect change in your partner

Your partner is the center of your world

Your partner is the one person who can get through to you/You are the one person who can get through to your partner

Banter

Dumbassery

RenRuki:

Love takes work

Best friends to lovers

Second chances/Broken things can be repaired

Love is a choice

You improve with age

Shared experiences build love

Pining

Working together with your partner to create a mutually satisfying life together

Your partner enriches your world, but your independence is maintained

Banter

Dumbassery

There is also some degree of character interpretation at work, too-- there seems to be a huge degree of disagreement between fans as to whether:

a) Ichigo enjoys his normal, human life, and even though he do anything to protect what he loves, he would prefer to live a human existence with his human friends and family. He credits Rukia will helping him realize his strength and powers.

b) Ichigo is unsatisfied with his human life and that meeting Rukia opened the doorway to a life of excitement and adventure, on top of being given the strength to protect his loved ones.

As far as Ichigo pairings go, I think that most IchiHime people fall in category (a) and most IchiRuki (and GrimmIchi) shippers fall in (b). In both cases, peoples’ ships align with their view of what makes Ichigo happy. Most IchiRuki content I have seen  seems to feature Ichigo moving to Soul Society, rather than Rukia moving to Karakura. Rukia pretty explicitly indicates at the end of the Soul Society Arc that she wants to stay in Soul Society, plus she’s got a pretty established life there. Contrast that to the story of Isshin and Masaki-- Isshin seems pretty flippant and disaffected about his life in Soul Society; it doesn’t seem like it was a particularly hard choice for him to give up being a shinigami. Also, it’s pretty clear that what Isshin did was illegal, and I’m not sure there would be an easy way for Rukia to just say “WELP, I’m off to live as a human, smell you jerks later.”

To try to wrap things up, I think the actual dynamics of an IchiRuki or RenRuki relationship would be very similar, actually. They would banter a lot and dive headfirst into danger and support each other no matter what. Byakuya would treat either guy with the vaguest, most grudging amount of respect. The primary perpetual, unresolved argument between Rukia and Ichigo would be “The Living World is dumb/Soul Society is dumb”, whereas with Rukia and Renji, it would be “Squad 6 is dumb/Squad 13 is dumb wait no I didn’t mean that Captain Ukitake is an angel.”

Personally, I headcanon Renji as being more able than Ichigo to step back and be the support person in the relationship (see that bullet about Ichigo being the protag), so I think that RenRuki could manage to run a functional household, whereas Ichigo and Rukia would just go on adventures until they got arrested for tax evasion.

*For the record, I am very pro-IchiRenRuki, except that they would be even worse at running a household. It’s just Renji trying to explain how a chore wheel works while Rukia and Ichigo walk out the door on him.

#shipping discourse #they're just all very shippable! #with each other! #with anyone! #may god have mercy on my soul for venturing this close to the third rail of bleach discourse

[eaglehealthworks]

Lots of words, lots of meanings Pt. I

This entry is intended to bring a little educational understanding to those who are unsure of what all the different terms mean in the world of people with drug/alcohol/behavioral issues. For the sake of discussing the individual, he/she/they are known as such and will be in active use, active recovery, or active wellness (complete remission, perhaps). There are those that will state that one cannot be cured and there is only a state of recovery because the individual is never not addicted to whatever caused problems. I contend that an individual can achieve active wellness which would include complete abstinence and a life without psychoactive substances and/or other excessive repetitive patterns know as behavioral addictions (e.g., gambling, sex, shopping &c.) in healthy, sustainable, and satisfying ways.

Yes, if someone who has been in the throes of chemical dependency or behavioral disorder return to the substance and/or behavior, the cycle begins where it left off for many biological reasons. The point is it is absolutely possible and very much achievable to never return to that way of existing. If you follow medical orders after realizing a high blood pressure diagnosis, the problem becomes completely manageable. If you get your blood pressure down then revert back to a lifestyle which caused it to increase then guess what, it will return with a vengeance. Same exact thing.

I’ll step off of my “You can live well” pulpit and get into the terminology because the layers to wellness are many, deep, and worthy of their very own post(s) .

What is drug addiction, and should we use the term or its derivatives?

According to the National Institute of Drug Abuse (NIDA, 2019), it is “a chronic disease characterized by compulsive, or uncontrollable, drug seeking and use despite harmful consequences and changes in the brain, which can be long-lasting”. Note how it is considered a medical disease by the established medical community. This gets some people in a tizzy and those are often heard exclaiming, “You did this to yourself!, It’s not a disease!, Cancer is a disease!”, &c. The number one cause of death in these United States is heart disease caused largely by; you guessed it, the sufferer (Weatherspoon, 2019). Smoking, diet, overweight, sedentary, all contribute significantly to this problem. Those previously mentioned anger mongers will often retort “Yeah, well it is also genetic!”, and so is chemical dependency (Johns Hopkins, 2021).

Whether or not the term is used or not is always up for debate, and only time will determine its existence. Addiction as a term is fairly straightforward and accurate; however, the term addict is filled with negative connotation, stereotype, and stigma. I can assure you that easily half of everyone I have ever treated looks and behaves just like every other citizen walking around in any neighborhood anywhere. Rich, poor, elderly, young, and all points in between describe people with substance use disorders and behavioral addictions, many of whom you would never guess. I have also known many straight edge folks who the average American might easily mistake for someone who abuses drugs based on appearance alone.

How does someone get diagnosed?

Well, it must be done by a licensed and qualified medical professional who has spent many years in study and has the student debt to prove it. Or you can generally ask someone who is suspected of having a problem with drugs, alcohol, or circumstance and they will know if it can be controlled or if help is needed. This does not take into account those in denial or fear of losing something by the very nature of the question (like safety, shelter, liberty, &c). In the case of the former, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fifth Edition (DSM-V) by the American Psychiatric Association (APA) uses the following criteria to determine whether a problem exists and/or the degree of severity if present (APA, 2013):

A. A problematic pattern of [insert substance or circumstance] use leading to clinically significant impairment or distress, as manifested by at least two of the following, occurring within a 12-month period:

1.     [insert substance or circumstance, e.g., alcohol, opioids, gambling, &c.]  are often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period than was intended.

2.     There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control [insert substance or circumstance] use.

3.     A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to obtain the [insert substance or circumstance], use the [insert substance or circumstance], or recover from its effects.

4.     Craving, or a strong desire or urge to use [insert substance or circumstance].

5.     Recurrent [insert substance or circumstance]  use resulting in a failure to fulfill major role obligations at work, school, or home.

6.     Continued [insert substance or circumstance]  use despite having persistent or recurrent social or interpersonal problems caused or exacerbated by the effects of [insert substance or circumstance].

7.     Important social, occupational, or recreational activities are given up or reduced because of [insert substance or circumstance]  use.

8.     Recurrent [insert substance or circumstance]  use in situations in which it is physically hazardous.

9.     Continued [insert substance or circumstance]  use despite knowledge of having a persistent or recurrent physical or psychological problem that is likely to have been caused or exacerbated by the substance.

10.  Tolerance, as defined by either of the following:

a.      A need for markedly increased amounts of [insert substance or circumstance]  to achieve intoxication or desired effect.

b.     A markedly diminished effect with continued use of the same amount of an [insert substance or circumstance]. (Note: This criterion is not considered to be met for those taking [insert substance or circumstance]  solely under appropriate medical supervision.)

11.  Withdrawal, as manifested by either of the following:

a.      The characteristic [insert substance or circumstance]  withdrawal syndrome (refer to Criteria A and B of the criteria set for [insert substance or circumstance]  withdrawal).

b.     [insert substance or circumstance]  (or a closely related substance) are taken to relieve or avoid withdrawal symptoms. (Note: This criterion is not considered to be met for those individuals taking [insert substance or circumstance]  solely under appropriate medical supervision.)

NONE – Presence of 0-1 symptoms

MILD – Presence of 2-3 symptoms

MODERATE – Presence of 4-5 symptoms

SEVERE – Presence of 6 or more symptoms 

Questions? Anyone? Let’s keep moving. Now with this information held firmly in your mind, you still need to be properly credentialed in order to affix a legitimate diagnosis to anyone, so this is for informational purposes only. Here are a few more terms to add to your lexicon though:

1.     Drug Intoxication. This is elusive because many people with a substance use disorder(s) have been using for so long that their strange and erratic behavior has become accepted traits. Often the presence of intoxication is a sudden change in demeanor, i.e., one moment a person is restless and anxious, they go to the bathroom and after emerging proceed to pass-out after sitting down anywhere (opioids). Or an individual is nervous and even a little shaky but after a few moments alone returns happy, smooth in gait, and chatty (alcohol). Perhaps a loved one is lethargic and grumpy, but after returning from the bathroom is full of energy and talking a mile a minute (cocaine, methamphetamine). Of course, there are many indicators, but you get the point.

2.     Drug Abuse. The continued use of a psychoactive drug or behavioral patterns despite the knowledge that it is causing social, occupational, psychological, or physical problems (APA, 2013). Put simply, doing something to excess where the consequences outweigh the benefits; An ice cream cone is great, a half-gallon  makes you vomit (in most cases).

3.     Drug Dependence. Maladaptive pattern of use resulting in significant impairment or distress, as shown by compulsive use, increased tolerance, withdrawal, and obsessive thoughts about it (APA, 2013).

 You know, the word withdrawal has been presented several times in this post and it deserves its own little section because it is this experience alone that keeps more people in active use than any other single precipitating factor. The human mind is in a constant state of seeking homeostasis or normal acceptable functioning. All people, not just those with drug/alcohol issues seek the avoidance of pain. Ok, somewhere there is a body builder claiming no pain no gain but let that pain be a sciatic or tooth nerve and he/she is reduced to a tower of gelatin seeking immediate relief.

 This next sentence is a value statement directly from the horse; withdrawal is an exquisitely harrowing experience engulfing the entirety of the human experience and reducing it to the most detestable overall sensation of prolonged living death. The only relief which is desperately sought and despised simultaneously is more of the substance that caused it. I really don’t know a better way to explain it. I know of septuagenarian Rockwellesque grandmothers who have sold themselves for heroin because their medical provider overprescribed opioids for years and due to pressure from governing authorities cut them off, just to avoid withdrawal. People question this but its sadly true, and not even the worst of the stories.

 If you ever want to chat with me about this or anything else related to relief from substance and/or circumstance please contact me here or at the clinic. Feel free to click on any of the links provided for more reading. Thanks for taking the time, enjoy.

-        Edesepam

References

American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.). https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.books.9780890425596

Johns Hopkins. (2021). Substance Abuse / Chemical Dependency. Retrieved from https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/substance-abuse-chemical-dependency on 2021, June 30.

NIDA. (2019, January 17). Treatment Approaches for Drug Addiction DrugFacts. Retrieved from https://www.drugabuse.gov/publications/drugfacts/treatment-approaches-drug-addiction on 2021, June 30

Weatherspoon, D. (2019, March 29). What Are the 12 Leading Causes of Death in the United States? Retrieved from https://www.healthline.com/health/leading-causes-of-death on 2021, June 30.

[malereader-inserts]

Andante, Andante | Ch.I

“I’ll make you a deal,” Peter says, you tilted your head as he continues, “If I can make you fall in love with me by the end of the summer, then you don’t move countries.”

Word Count:  1,638

A/n: I forgot how hard it is when to start a story because I have the urge to start with, “Hi, my name is Peter Parker and I am eighteen years old...”  Also, Why hasn’t Tumblr made a setting to put text in the centre? Feedback will be appreciated!

Next> 

New York City. 

It is a place you only know your life to be in. A place that you and some of the Avengers have ever know, you weren’t like Tony Stark who could hop on a jet and fly wherever his heart desired. You were just average, a man of eighteen who was struck by lightning and now is on the Avengers team.

And you can’t complain, you were welcomed to the team as if you were just adopted. They were welcoming, you had each other’s back. 

But, there was just something that was nagging in the back of your head, you had to get out of the Big Apple. New York was great, but you didn’t want to be confined to the superhero life, no matter how selfish that sounds. There’s more to life than to risk it.

That’s why Peter Parker just fails to understand, sure, he’s heard it too much that with great power comes great responsibility, but who doesn’t want that serotonin feeling when you did a good deed? He just doesn't get it, you wanting to fly and travel the world, he even freaked out when he heard you apply to University at Cambridge in England, not Cambridge Boston at M.I.T. 

“But, it’s New York, (L/n)!” Peter exclaims as you scoffed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“So what?” You feigned annoyance, “If I recall, Parker, you’re going to M.I.T! That’s not exactly in New York.”

“O-okay!” Peter stutters as he throws his arms in the air, “That’s beside the point!” 

You scoffed, shaking your head, “I don’t know why you’re so angered by this, it’s not like you care about me.”

This was a fact that you were wrong about, god, if you only knew. Peter Parker was head over heels for you, that’s a fact, there are a few reasons to why he’s hasn’t acted upon it. 

You’re grumpy as hell, not the most approachable person on the team

You’re closed off, there’s not much you allow a person to know about you.

You’re so god damn pretty that Peter believes you are the sun, vibrant, and everyone knows the story of Icarus.

He wouldn’t consider each other as friends, more than strangers but less than friends.

So, Peter has resorted to staring at you, he tries not to be a creep about it. But, he can’t help to linger on your drawl of certain words. He can’t help but stare a second longer and he’s unable to stop the stomach acid from rising from his stomach to his throat. In conclusion, Peter is in love with you, as many would say, and he was pretty good at hiding it away since he’s always in Stark’s lab, out of sight. 

You don’t know much about Stark’s kid, Peter. Other than you like how Parker sounded when you say it, that Peter is a hyperactive puppy who you can’t help but just adore, though feelings come hard to you and to express, and that Peter Parker was a ball of sunshine, that if you were to stare at him for too long you would go blind. Not that you would stare at him, in fact, you barely register his existence. You like knowing about him, he’s a Queen’s boy, smart like Stark, and absolute dork whilst he knows the bare minimum of you.

Keeps you safe.

Whatever helps you sleep at night, you know?

You were questioning yourself, why did Peter care so much about you leaving? No one in the team would tell you, as if they were sworn to secrecy, either that or they know something that isn’t for them to tell you. As soon as the summer break started, you noticed how Peter was becoming all close to you, wanting to know more of you.

You brushed him off as best as you could, glaring him away or giving him no attention. But, he was persistent, you admit, there was some underlying determination in whatever challenge he had set himself. So, just this once, as you sat by the pond, your feet hanging off the wooden decking, just barely over the water.

“I wondered how long it would take you to find me,” You says, looking over your shoulder to see Peter carrying lunch for the pair of you, “Why are you so determined in getting to know me?”

“Well, you’re part of the team and I feel like everyone is supposed to know everyone,” Peter says, timidly placing the tray of plates of lunch in between you and him, “Steve cooked, says it’s your favourite.”

Bastard, you thought, Steve and Natasha were really the only ones you were closed to and they promised to give anything away about you even the smallest of things such as favourite food, favourite colour, etc…

“Well, thanks…” You answered, hoping that Peter would just leave you alone but you had noticed he placed his platter of lunch on his lap.

“Also, you seem like you needed a friend.”

If you could be any meme, you would be that open mouth Pikachu meme as you wondered why you entertained Peter’s curiosity with you. Steve tells you to play nice, Nat says Peter is a wonderful boy. They both expressed that you needed more friends.

“You’re setting off on the right foot,” You say, sarcastically as you shove some food into your mouth, “Do you have many friends?”

“Okay-” Peter looked embarrassed, as you waited for his answer, “That sounded so rude, didn’t it?”

“Trust me, Parker, you aren’t the first to tell me that.”

“Oh,” Peter says, trying to lighten up the mood, “Idiot then?”

“It was Steve and Nat,” You informed him, there was a tinge of amusement when you see Peter stop chewing, alarmed, “But, idiots? More like, functional morons at best.”

Peter’s eyes widen, “You have a sense of humour!”

You almost choked on your own spit as you were lost for words, looking at the boy, with a mouth gaping open at him. You become a stuttering mess as you just couldn’t comprehend what this boy was on.

“I am a human being, Parker!” You exclaimed, “You’ve just given me lunch!”

Peter shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know, man, you could have easily convinced me that you’re an Andriod, you know from that video game…”

You watched him slowly go off on a tangent, you tilted your head as you knitted your eyebrows together. 

“Has anyone told you that you talk too much?” You asked, interrupting him as he flushed red, “Because you do.”

Peter gives you a goofy smile as you huffed out an amused breath, your lips curving upwards as you look away from him. Peter almost forgets how to breathe because you’re natural state was glaring at everything but this was the first time he had seen you smile.

And my god, Peter thought, he would do anything to see that glorious smile of yours. You fall into silence as you finish your plate, Peter quickly turning his attention away from you - hoping that he wasn’t caught staring as he quickly cleans the last of his food.

“So,” Peter clears his throat as you look at him with a raised eyebrow, “England.”

“Ah, so we’re back to this conversation…” You mused out, at first, Peter was irking you with this topic but you convinced yourself to have patience with him, he was simply curious.

“That’s a long way from home,” Peter continues, placing his plate onto of yours on the tray, “Why?”

“Why what?” You questioned.

“Why so far away?”

Your shoulders tense, you hate talking about yourself, before you resorted to shrugging, “A new beginning? There’s a whole world out there, Parker, why confine yourself to one place?”

“Well, I think it’s stupid,”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “That’s not the only reason why I want to get away but thanks for your considering opinion that I did not ask for.”

Peter doesn’t miss the sarcasm in your voice as his cheeks turn red, now, you two were back to square one where you rather close yourself off. 

“Listen, we better get back in before Steve calls us in,” You continue as Peter was about to apologise.

You stood up, patting away the dirt from your legs as Peter slowly nods and gets up too. You both stood in front of each other, just staring at each other. 

Peter shifted his weight between the heels to his toes, looking at you awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him, his silence was unsettling, not once have you seen the hyperactive puppy just paused for a moment. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Peter says, you tilted your head as he continues, “If I can make you fall in love with me by the end of the summer, then you don’t move countries.”

You straighten your back, “And if I don’t fall in love with you?”

“Then, you get to leave, leave the life you started here. Leave the people who consider you like family, I’m not going to stop you,” Peter licks his lips, his bitter tone goes unnoticed.

However, he stands proudly and for once he wasn’t just a teenager, he was a young man coming to a new stage of life. You lock your jaw and let out an unbelievable huff.

“So? Do we have a deal?” He lifts a hand out in between you two.

You stared at it before clasping it, giving him a firm handshake, “You got yourself a deal, Parker.”

He smiles at you, picking up the tray and dashing it back to the compound. You stayed by the wooden pier as you stare at the hand you shook with.

What have you got yourself into? 

Tagged: @locke-writes @yesthetrashbin  @blackirisposts @idwithoutthesuperego @screamingmuffinsunite @fifi550 @vydante @batfam16 @kpopchangedmylifesstuff @chaotictyler @delphicillusion

Wanna be tagged for the next parts, message me! I just tagged the people who responded their interest, want your name off, again, just message me!

#peter parker #peter parker x male!reader #x male reader #peter parker imagine #andante andante #Avengers #avenger imagines

[connorssock]

Breadstick here with a prompt! I've been really into an AU I've been seeing around where Gavin AND Nines are both androids, so maybe something about how those two get together for the first time? I just love the idea of busted faulty GV200 and top-of-the-line RK900 falling in love even though they're both disasters at having feelings

Ah! Breadsticks, dude! This is such a fun prompt, thank you.

Cats and Dogs

The unspoken wisdom around the precinct was, that if you were going to bring a new android into work, you’d better make the introductions to the resident androids (or rather, one specific cranky android) very delicately. If only CyberLife had gotten that memo when they blindly sent the RK900 model in, specifically to replace any derelict, outdated models the DPD wanted to decommission.

“Well, well well,” Gavin grinned without an ounce of kindness. “Fresh off the production line?”

He eyed the RK900 up and down with disdain as he sipped at his mug. Androids didn’t really need to drink, in fact it could be downright harmful to their internal workings, but Gavin had developed a taste to coffee and refused to give it up even when the technicians implored he stop the needless habit. He thought it made him seem more human -  self destructive habit like Anderson’s drinking and Chen’s smoking.

“I am the latest model built for efficiency in aiding police and crime investigation works. And you are?”

There was a hint of snobbish pity in RK900′s voice that had Gavin bristling. Before he could reply, RK900 scanned him and answered his own question.

“GV200, designation Gavin. CyberLife no longer makes parts compatible for your model so you’re a patchwork of make-do fixes that work because of wishful thinking rather than competent technology. I’m surprised the DPD were desperate enough to keep you on. No doubt I’ll be replacing you.”

Rage flooded through Gavin and he almost upended his cup over the front of RK900′s pristine white jacket.

“You’ll replace me when you figure out how to incorporate social protocols into your matrix. Though I doubt you could do break it into your programming even if you manually input the code line by line you stuck up prick,” he seethed.

“And I suppose you’re such an expert on social integration. I’ve accessed your personnel file. A string of partners, none of which could tolerate you longer than two weeks at most. A single human companion in the form of an Officer to keep you company most times and pull you out of trouble. Next you’ll be telling me you’re one of the original deviants.”

Neither of the missed the way Gavin’s LED flashed red. It wasn’t a term Gavin used often, in fact he avoided it as much as possible. In all of his existence he’d always known he was faulty, had a glitch that made him volatile unlike all other androids. The DPD kept him on despite it, putting it down to a temperamental, experimental code.

“A prototype that was never continued into a marketable model. Faulty right from the start.” RK900 stared Gavin down as he stood ramrod straight, military perfect posture and all.

“Like you’re going to be any better,” Gavin snipped but the fight had gone from him. RK900 had hit a nerve.

“I am the improvement. The RK800 line was the prototype and I am the finished product. Superior in every way.While you effectively ended the GV line before it even began.”

Gavin snarled, his cup came dangerously close to tipping. Before he could launch himself at the self-righteous prick in a feral way, Fowler called them both to his office.

They were to be the first android team on the force. An experimental combination of new technology paired with the tried and tested. No amount of arguing, refusal or bargaining moved Fowler and Gavin stormed from the room in one of the foulest fits of temper that anybody could remember.

They all hoped that given time, things would smooth out but they couldn’t be more wrong. The competition between the two androids escalated on a daily basis. Usually Gavin would leave his paperwork until the last possible moment and then hastily do the bare minimum he could get away with. It was no secret that when not on a case, he spent most of his time watching cat videos and drinking coffee. But he was such a staple at the precinct, nobody had the heart to report him. Fowler knew what he got up to, but Gavin got results when they were needed.

The morning Gavin strolled in with his LED conspicuously missing from his temple, people began to talk. He was the first android in active service to have done so and people muttered about it. However, his moods were still just as easy to read without the usually red flickering LED to indicate he was grumpy.

Productivity from him shot up with the arrival of RK900. Gavin worked through his backlog of paperwork, closed older cases before his partner could even get near them and smugly informed RK900 that his services were, yet again, not needed. He was a perfectly capable member of the police force without some fancy newer model propping him up like some geriatric, wonky kettle.

It had become the expected that when the two of them arrived at a crime scene, Gavin would hop out of the car as soon as he parked and set about surveying. RK900 would be slower in his approach and talk to the officers present before making his own circuit to assess the evidence.

“Hey,” Gavin called over, “hey Nines!”

There was an amount of glee in his voice as he prodded at something in the fridge. Cautiously, RK900 approached, curious about the newest development and the sudden nickname Gavin seemed to have bestowed upon him.

“Dare you to sample this,” Gavin prodded the slightly mouldy jelly in the fridge with a gloved finger and watched it wobble with glee.

“Why would I do such a thing?” RK900 asked and subtly scanned Gavin. “And when was the last time you entered stasis?”

“Because it would be hilarious to watch you lick it,” Gavin replied and looked over with a slightly manic glint in his eyes. “Stasis is for the weak. I had shit to do.”

After a moment’s hesitation, RK900 reached towards the jelly too. He carefully brushed against Gavin’s exposed wrist and forced a surface level interface. Before Gavin could jerk away, he got brief hints of worry, the need to look useful, panic that if he was outdone by RK900 then he’d be destroyed. They were such human worries, RK900 blinked in surprise and missed the scowl Gavin sent his way, filled with bitter betrayal.

The next day RK900 wasn’t quite as efficient as before. He even left work for the next day. It absolutely did not have anything with the tentative blossom of fondness that had seeped over the interface along with the exhaustion of keeping up.

After a few days Gavin seemed a little less harassed by life and his clutch on his mug of coffee seemed to loosen. If RK900 got him a coffee with a splash of thirium in it, nobody needed to know.

It seemed that the competition between the two of them settled a little. Gavin no longer charged bullheaded into situations without RK900′s knowledge. He still didn’t wait for his partner, but at least there was a modicum of acknowledgement that they arrived together and at least got briefed at the same time.

Of course the truce couldn’t last. While Gavin had taken to outwardly calling RK900 Nines, there were still moments where they clashed. Violently. One such instance was, ironically, the hostage situation that developed within the station. A group of suspects, brought in for questioning on a drug ring by a rookie saw the opportunity to get even. One of them grabbed a gun and held the arresting officer in a stranglehold, gun aimed at his head.

“Nobody move!” the suspect screamed. “Drop your weapons and push them to us.”

The precinct bullpen was helpless to do anything but obey and the other suspects grabbed weapons. Nines and Gavin exchanged looks. One looked exasperated while the other grinned sharply.

There was no way to predict the next few seconds. They both drew their guns, Nines dispatched of three of the suspects with precision shots to shoulders and legs to disable while Gavin took out two. There were still three of them left and Gavin charged.

“Aim for the human!” one to the suspects yelled and a shot clipped Gavin in the chest.

He stopped mid charge and looked down at the hole in his chest. The smile he turned his head back up with was cold as thirium soaked his shirt.

“Oops,” he said before launching forward again.

He quickly decked the stunned suspect and turned as Nines was advancing on the remaining two. Nines’ LED flickered yellow and a moment later he threw his gun up into the air. All eyes were on it, distracted from Gavin taking a running jump and using Nines’ braced body as a springboard. He followed the gun up and twisted midair to fire two shots at the suspects. His landing on the table in front of Nines was loud and he hopped off it with an easy smile.

“You fucking idiot!”

Everybody flinched as Nines yelled. He prowled towards Gavin, LED red.

“Is the last line of your self-preservation code degrading? They could have shot you in the pump!”

Nines cornered Gavin, his fingers brushed over the sluggishly leaking hole in his chest and they came away tinged blue.

“Gross,” Gavin laughed weakly as Nines licked his fingers clean.

“Your thirium is incompatible with mine.”

“So?” Gavin shrugged.

“You’re experiencing 37% thirium loss. At over 54% loss your systems will begin to shut down. Only advanced models can function with 70% loss. Not you. And I can’t give you a transfer,” Nines’ voice was softer as he bracketed Gavin’s body against a wall.

“I know,” Gavin replied easily. His eyes were wide though as he searched Nines’ face, ignored the LED flashing a harsh red. “Rather me than you. You’re here to replace me anyway.”

“You idiot,” Nine huffed out a teary laugh.

His hand linked with Gavin’s skin peeled back in invitation, completely oblivious to the rest of the precinct around them, the suspects being cuffed and lead away. A gasp went up around them when Gavin’s skin slowly peeled back, not as smooth as Nines’. It was a later upgrade he’d had patched in, originally he was never meant to have been able to pull his skin back.

Their hands linked and a soft blue light emanated from their connection. It glowed brighter with each second and flashed into an almost white when their lips met in a gentle kiss.

If anybody ever thought about replacing Gavin with a newer model, they were quickly dissuaded by Nines’ cold stare and formidable bulk towering over them. His loyalty to the precinct was never questioned but everybody knew that in his world, Gavin came first.

#reed900 #dbh: gavin #dbh: rk900 #get together #prompt fill #cw: gun shots #android gavin

[majdalenaska]

9 reasons why NOT to be a cabin crew

This is not probably the ideal way how to promote a job in Aviation but if you really think about doing this, you should keep on reading. As much as I encourage my friends to become a cabin crew, there are certain aspects of the job that should be taken into consideration. To name a few…

( P.S don’t take this article way too seriously, it is supposed to humour you a bit, but there is also a lot of truth in it as well)

1)      Permanent state of jet lag

Basically, you function in a constant brain fog and sleepiness, other words called the Jet lag. Let me tell you something about this lovely term called jet lag. It’s no fun. It does not matter if you are in Europe or in the US, you constantly battle it. Let me elaborate. Once you are in the USA, you usually stay down route one or two days (3, if very lucky), well in that case, your body clock can’t get used to the timezone in such a short period of time. You might get a decent sleep the second night or third, but when you actually get comfy and acclimatized, it’s time for you to go and fly back to Europe.  

I am talking from a personal perspective here, but the first night after a flight being back in Europe, you sleep amazingly, like a baby. The reason for that, is being literally knackered, either from the flight itself or the time difference caught up with you. Sometimes the upcoming days could be a struggle, you could feel still very tired, a bit confused, which is all the consequence of a jet lag. Once you start to feel like yourself and start function as normal human being, where you don’t need to spend 10-12 hours in bed, you are on a go again, hooray, back to the USA. (The good thing about flying to America is having literally the longest day ever, since you add an extra 5 or 8 hours to your day). But to conclude this, everyone’s different, when it comes to jet lag.  Some days I feel fresh as a daisy, surprisingly.

Your body also works on habits and has incredible memory. For instance you can get used to any patterns or different time zones, as long as you work in them regularly ( in my airline we are lucky enough to be flying only to USA and south America). We mainly work during the nights on our way back to Europe, so your body works like a clock, it knows exactly when to sleep and for how long.

Let’s say, I come back home from a night flight, I might get 2-3 hours of sleep during the day and then I can get a proper sleep from around 8 or 9 pm till the morning. Imagine that one day, you come back from a Seattle (8 hours difference), which utterly disrupts your lovely routine and body clock. Since coming back from Seattle is during the day, it mess you up , big time. You get at least two sleepless nights in London and only because you changed the routine a bit ( or I don’t do this route regularly enough).

2)      Mood shifts

Your mood worsens due to the lack of sleep. If you don’t do anything in particular in regards to your moodiness, you end up being grumpy and friendless. As many of us could confirm, especially on landing day, you feel absolutely drained and easily irritable and it’s no one to blame really, so don’t take it personally, if you are a boyfriend or girlfriend of a flight attendant. Just get them a pizza, bottle of chilled beer and put on some Netflix. Ideally in a long term, you’ve got to work on it though. Yoga, meditation, walk in nature, skype call…anything at all to get you out of the funk.

3)      Your social life becomes non existent

As you can tell, flight attendants spend the majority of time abroad, which can have a huge impact on their social life. Your close friends probably forgot you already, since you are never around, or you are always tired to go out. When you actually make the effort to do something with your mates, you have to come back early, since perhaps you have a flight to catch early in the morning or you basically fall sleep in the middle of conversation due to jet lag. You also do not have time to date, unless you are a Tinder master and you make boyfriends in every state in America, where we get to fly. But if you find yourself a man in Seattle, not ideal at all, because this is only a seasonal route. Next time be smarter and go on Tinder somewhere like NYC or Los Angeles, where we fly daily :)

4)      People coming and leaving

During this job you get to meet incredible amount of people, either your colleagues or just random people on a plane you get to talk to. But when it comes to the crew, every trip or flight you do, you work along someone new, which is awesome, but also a tiny bit overwhelming sometimes. And it is not for everybody. I am lucky enough to be flying with some incredible people but unfortunately usually you get to see them once and never again, your rosters never match basically.

5)      You get used to the  „high life“

Don’t take me wrong, flying itself and working in a closed metal tube is not that glamorous as I once thought in the past.  But you kinda get used to the perks of being a cabin crew…( lot of spare time either in hotels or at home, free breakfast down route, fancy hotel rooms, outdoor pools, spas, saunas, free gym etc). The loveliest bonus for me must be flying to a warm and sunny destination all year long, where you can get some Vitamin D and sometimes even Vitamin Sea, which whoever live in England understand. You are also welcome to do anything from shopping, dinning or outing with the crew during the day, as far as you have the energy or the funds for it. If you are a Disney fan, trust me, Florida will become your second home.

6)      Working late and during the nights

No one likes working during the night, especially in a different time zone. But once you create a routine, your body gets used to it somehow, as I mentioned before. You also need to create a habit of napping BEFORE the flight, DURING the flight and AFTER the flight. So basically you become a baby all over again. (this could be considered as a plus)

 7)      Loneliness

You spend a lot of time on your own during layovers or at home , it can feel a bit lonely sometimes, which can actually helps you with getting to know something about your personality. Does this schedule work out for me? Am I a loner or prefer to be surrounded with people? In aviation it’s both ideally combined together.  But don’t isolate yourself too much, even if you are not up for a meet up, just push yourself , it’s not good for your mental health to spend too much time alone.

 8)      Passengers

Thanks to flying a lot and dealing with all different kinds of passengers, you may start disliking people and prefer company of dogs. I do not talk from a personal perspective when it comes to this issue (only sometimes) but I’ve had people talking about this. I can also notice it with people working in aviation for a long time. You can get easily triggered by silly comment or you just get irritated by anyone just because you are tired. In that case you should consider some help or maybe ask yourself if it’s time for you to move on to a different career.

 9)      Standby – to be called or not to be called

There is literally nothing worse than being called out of a standby. I can’t think of anything more stressful than a Standby, which for those, who do not work in aviation, means being called out in the middle of a night or a day to cover duty for someone else, who cannot fly that day, due to any circumstances. The minimum time you can get to arrive to the actual airport is 90 minutes. It’s part of the job I know, we signed up for this, but anyway there is nothing worse than a Standby. I just need to know in advance, whether I fly tomorrow or not. Standby only gives me an anxiety. But on the positive note, we do not have that many of them in one month and usually they give us more time in advance, which is nice.

I hope by reading this, I didn’t put you off flying, which wasn’t my intention in a first place. I wrote this article while being on standby and not sleeping properly the night before hence the chosen headline:) Not to finish on a negative note, my next read will be definitely focused on benefits and advantages of flying, which hopefully lure you back into aviation.

[bonnie-and-cloud]

Hi! First off I love your post . And your bunnies are adorbale . Do you have any tips on a person thinking of getting a bunny?

I don't know when this was sent @fulltoadpicklemuffin so sorry if this is late. I've also taken my time to give you a thoughtful, thorough reply

ALSO HEADS UP THAT I'M ON MOBILE WITH NO ACCESS TO A CUT SO I'M SORRY

So I did a full year of research before getting my girls. I was living on a college campus where animals were banned except for goldfish and other small tank animals, emotional support animals, and service animals. I was in an apartment so I had plenty of space for a rabbit or two but we also had a school policy where we could have a surprise inspection at any point in time. We weren't even allowed to have friends who had pets come into our spaces even to pick us up it was so strict. It was pretty strictly enforced too

I also wasn't working because my mother promised me that so long as I focused on my studies, I wouldn't have to get a job. She paid for textbooks, groceries, my phone, medical expenses including meds, and so on. She helped me get a car and did a lot of heavy lifting. Meaning that between that, being disabled, and the school policy it didn't make sense to even sneak a bun

Well, I only needed one class for my last semester meaning I lost campus housing eligibility so I'd have to pay the campus something stupid like two grand a month to stay there. We moved to a temporary apartment and didn't say anything but like they didn't do inspections like campus did so whatever

So that's part of why I did a whole year of research. I made triple sure to know their proper diet, switching foods, and so on. I was very careful about them playing only with Approved Bunny Toys and didn't even have a cage for either of them at first as they were in an 8x8 closet with limited access to roam our room. Between that and my research, I have plenty of advice and it'll be stuff you won't necessarily hear from other people

IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU ADOPT FROM A BREEDER, SHOP AT A STORE, OR GET A RESCUE

At the end of the day, a bun got a home that otherwise might not have. And that's more important, to me at least, than other factors. I don't recommend getting a pet store bunno because they are horribly mistreated but you do you. I won't judge either way on that one. I got my girls directly from a reputable breeder

I do recommend different methods for different needs, ability, and whatnot. I had never owned a rabbit before so I had no idea what the baseline for bun behaviors were. I didn't know how destructive they were prone to be had they not been traumatized via abandonment or abuse or whatever. I had no idea the difference between a happy loaf versus a grumpy loaf. I didn't know a happy flop from a passive aggressive one and no amount of reading up on these things or YouTube videos was going to really show me unless I saw them with my own eyes

Not to mention, buns take a long time to get comfortable with you just in general. Bonnie and Cloud took almost two months before they were cool enough with me to cuddle me on my bed. I remember crying thinking they hated me with no idea they were bonding to me very quickly. It would have been even longer with a rescue and I might have sincerely thought I was a bad bun parent and given up on buns entirely

So, for new bun parents, I recommend getting from a reputable breeder two bun siblings of the same gender from the same litter like I did. Not only do you get a better baseline for behavior, you genuinely get to see a lot of things you wouldn't from other bonded pairs. Like these two fight over the same scrap of broccoli when there's a little pile beside them that either of them could choose from. They also play "pranks" on each other like sneaking up on each other, giving surprise boops, and running away. They make WAY more vocalizations than your average rabbit and can easily be mistaken for guinea pigs with their noises. Both in the type of vocalizations but also with how loud they can get. They act very similarly to human siblings

I say reputable breeder for obvious reasons. I contacted a breeder who was willing to promise me 4 week old buns which was a big fat no from me. There was no way they'd be completely weaned let alone emotionally ok with leaving their nest. When he said 4 weeks, I just hard blocked his number. Our breeder gave us ours at 6 or 8 weeks (I forget which) because they were ready. She even texted us saying they were ready to leave their parents earlier than she expected and gave us the option of waiting a couple more weeks to be double sure

So we could tell she knew her stuff and was reputable on top of her sending pictures of her setup and their pedigrees. She sent stuff shows care about too so it wasn't just x parent or whatever like she had genotypes back to their great grandparents which she herself had raised and had pedigrees for. We went ahead and got them early because I was so eager to meet them

My spouses and I have discussed adding two more to the mix but we're going to wait a bit. We're going to look into guinea pigs first and then if we still want two more bunnos, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. But, we'll almost definitely get from a reputable breeder again

As I've had my hip replaced, I can only handle creatures up to a certain weight. After my surgery, our roommate's cat jumped on my leg and opened my surgery wound. I won't get too graphic with it but it opened clear to my metal replacement and she wasn't even that large of a breed. Well, as far as my experience goes, the smallest buns get homes first because they're "cuter" due to their size. Holland lops go especially quickly because of how sweet and friendly they are. And I have needs

There are plenty of other bun parents who get all "well having a creature is a privilege not a right" about this and insist I shouldn't have a bun if I'm going to a breeder. These people can eat me. I have depression and meds and therapy only get you so far. Without these guys, I'd only leave my bed to use the bathroom or run errands. I know because that's where I was prior to them. I also can't have children so I need something to pour my love into or I'll hurt myself. I know that sounds weird or whatever but I shouldn't have to tell other bun owners, or anyone really, "without tiny fur children to love, cherish, protect, and provide for, I'll definitely kill myself" because like. None of their business

Not to mention, there's the question of bonding buns which takes time and a lot of effort. So even if we could get a couple rescue small buns, would they bond to the kids we have already. Rinse and repeat. Only one of us can drive so it's not like we have that much time available to bond either. It's faster, less stressful, and less time consuming for everybody involved to just adopt two babies from a reputable breeder

I say all my reasons why not to be all "breeder all the way!" because that's not where I'm coming from. I'm trying to illustrate why that might be a better option. Someone else may have to drive several hours out of the way to adopt and there is a perfectly good and cute bunno in need of a loving, happy home at a pet shop a street away. Whatever the case, so long as buns that exist get proper homes, I don't care. It's more important to me that buns aren't mistreated

ALL THAT SAID, time to move onto some quicker advice

Get a cage for each of your buns. We got those big ones that go for like 120 a piece or whatever at Petsmart. The big open trays with the wire sides and the side door. This gives them a comfy place to flop so they can nap in whatever hay you put. This will also keep them confined after they get fixed so you're not worrying about an expen or whatever else

THIS SHOULD NOT BE THEIR PRIMARY HOUSING. Now I understand if you can't free roam your buns. Not everyone has the space or living conditions. Frankly, we would put them in separate cages before bed, and release them when we woke up so they were in there 8ish hours. Mostly it was so they got some rest but also to keep them out of mischief while we slept. They turned into more of very large litter boxes over time and have only really functioned as cages post spay or when one (usually Cloud) was being destructive or bitchy and redirection and distraction weren't working so she needed a time out to calm down

Now that we've moved into half of a duplex with three whole separate rooms, an enormous front room, and so on, they're just very large litterboxes/hangout spaces. One will eventually be downstairs so they can be close to us while we do things and the other will be in our bedroom so they're shut with us at night. This is so they spend more time roaming during the day and don't get fat from being lazy babies

Now I won't Totally judge if anyone has an outdoor hutch so long as it's plenty of room and bunnos come in during extreme weather. It's not the safest but like I get it

GI stasis is going to happen. Don't freak out. Yes, it CAN kill bunnies but only if you're not doing what you should. We give ours 80% hay/wood sorrel/grass, 10ish greens/salad, 10ish pellets with a bit of wiggle room for treats. The wood sorrel (commonly called clover across the US) and grass are rare treats but they eat enough to basically replace their hay when they get it. Occasional treats are I'm eating strawberries and they get the tops or the ends of carrots when we're cooking dinner. Sometimes they get Legit pet store treats but these are rare

We see GI signs most often when they're shedding and it's because they're ingesting fur so their poop does the connected string thingy that's the first sign of GI stasis. We also have seen it every time after a move because they've been too stressed to eat enough hay so we up their pellets and greens during that time to compensate. The only other times were when we switched them from alfalfa as babies to Timothy as adults and when they were fixed

A good way to combat this is a product the Hook's Holland Lops lady recommends on her channel. They're digestive tablets made with papaya, ginger, pineapple, peppercorns, banana, and so on. It's all organic and one tablet contains a MINIMUM of 2% crude protein, 15% crude fiber, 0.5% crude fat. A tablet contains a MAXIMUM of 4% moisture, and 0.2 grams of fruit sugar. For mild cases, one tablet every day until they're in the clear is just fine but for a severe case, use one tablet per pound of bun body weight. This should be broken up from one feeding to throughout the day though so it doesn't screw up their systems

How I do it is twice a day because my babies are so small at 4ish lbs and 6ish lbs. They're actually 3.5 and 5.5 but it's easier to just say 4 and 6. I'll give Cloud 2 in the morning and 2 in the evening, and Bonnie 3 at both times. I've only had to do that after their spay. The worst their GI symptoms have ever been, they each needed one tablet twice a day. Now, if either were, say, 12 pounds. I'd split that into 3 tablets 4 times a day or 2 tablets 6 times a day

This has kept them from needing an emergency vet thus far. They've never had hard guts and their weird poops haven't ever lasted too terribly long either. Just keep an eye on how much they're drinking, how much hay they're eating, and so on

Bunnies shed WAAAAY more than you think and nobody can possibly prepare you for it. Literally, every time I go to comb or pluck or otherwise groom either of them, I end up with a pile of fur that is at LEAST as large as they are if not twice or three times as big. And I still have to groom their sides like I've only just cleared their backs

They shed so much that the poor babies were having sneezing fits. We checked their noses and no snuffles. So you'll need to vaccuum to try and keep that down. But like they will leave it on you worse than cats and they shed twice a year, roughly each spring and fall

LISTEN to your buns. Are they abnormally skittish around your new roommate? Keep an eye on that person the same way you would if your dog or cat were abnormally skittish. I promise you they aren't a good person. At the very least, they aren't very good for you and you shouldn't trust them around your buns. They don't want your new partner to pet them? Run the other way. Or at least remember it. My babies have let me know ahead of time when someone or some place is bad news

Not just this, they'll let you know when they're not happy. Whether that's their hay, their bedding, if the carpet feels weird. Listen to them. You'll be around after them but they only have you so make them as happy as you can

Bunnies are deceptively stupid. Now, I know some bun parents who are like "how dare you insult such majestic creatures" when like I ASSURE you, Karen, that Oreo there has nothing going on in his head beside "mmmm monch" when he sees your baseboards. Like they're definitely smarter when fixed because hormones aren't flooding their tiny brains but they're still super dumb and governed by instincts

That isn't to say they have absolutely nothing going on upstairs because that's a lie. They are smart enough to recognize routines and wake you up for stuff, bother you if something is upsetting them. They're about as intelligent as toddlers? If that makes any sense. Like toddlers aren't geniuses by any stretch of the imagination, they're still smart. Like they're tiny little dumbasses ruled by "am hunger so must eat" and so on. So if you act like you've got tiny toddlers with soft fur then you're pretty gold

Also, they like to watch TV. Cloud likes MLP and other animal cartoons like Looney Toons. Bonnie likes dramatic stuff with explosions and her favorite thing is YGO. So like :/ toddlers :/

Bunnies are more expensive than you think but they don't have to break the bank. Bunnies are the most expensive pet I've ever had but I've also only ever had dogs and roommates with cats. Hay can be pretty expensive, plus salad, treats, and that's just food. You also have to take into consideration litter boxes, damage costs, and so on

To cut down on hay, we buy a 75 lbs bale from Tractor Supply for about $15 that lasts quite a few months. Depending on how we use it, it can go as quickly as 3 months because they pee on it (which means mold flakes) or as long as over 6 if rationed appropriately in old pet shop hay bags. Then, we buy fresh stuff in season and take advantage of sales and coupons. Sometimes, we don't give a salad if finances are tight enough but they will always get hay and pellets. We also buy pellets in bulk for cheaper and bought a Brita pitcher for like 20 bucks or so so they get filtered water no matter how hard the water is for much cheaper than water bottles

Get a portable pen for hay like the one here. It helps contain mess a LOT. Like hay is gonna get everywhere, obviously, but if you do the bale like we do, it's super helpful and keeps the mess pretty well contained. On that note, I highly recommend a shop vac which the type of vaccuum wood shops, car repair places, and construction sites tend to use. I just linked an example so you know what you're looking for but get a hose that's at least 1.5 inches in diameter. Ours is close to 2 inches but you need the wide diameter so you can vacuum fur and hay without creating clog issues like a regular vaccuum. Capacity doesn't matter so much as hose size and ours cost us something like $60

Your buns will inevitably eat something they shouldn't. Depending on what it is and how much, your reaction should change. Your bun nosed their way into the trash and got the little chip crumbs at the bottom of a snack bag? Eh they'll be fine. If it's something that's dangerous like plastic or a poisonous food then you should contact your emergency vet. But Cloud has ABSOLUTELY snatched chips and bits of coke from a straw or two and we always have to fight her to stay away from our chips. I have a friend who has a bun who assaults her for pancakes. Like it's fine

Even after you have buns, keep researching. When it was stupid hot and I was worried, I looked up what to do to help keep them cool. When I was worried how much Bonnie was shedding, I asked my discord group. When I'm not sure about a food, I hit up Google

And I think that's it? At least that's all off the top of my head of stuff I wish I'd known going in regarding buns that I didn't see anyone else talking about. Feel free to hit me up with more specific questions!

#mod vann #asks #ask post #vannswers #bunnies #advice #bunny advice #links #long post #text heavy #suicide mention

[kuvvydraws]

Gabriel (Good Omens) x Reader

The Chicken That Finally Crossed The Fucking Road

Chapter 2

*     

*

     Having someone move in with you within a day was an adventure, and one you wouldn’t want to partake in ever again.

     The easy part was the talk with your landlady, and the woman was happy that you were no longer living on your own with how dangerous London was for young people like you, gullible and vulnerable; her words, not yours. Her husband, on the other hand, found heavily immoral that your roommate was a man and that you both were single, and he made sure his opinion was listened by the whole neighbourhood.

      One would say that dealing with the people responsible of your housing was the difficult part. It was a difficult part indeed, just not the only one.

     Dealing with Gabriel was a Whole Thing on its own.

     You know those old people that have a hard time coping with technology and new stuff and just complain when nothing goes their way? That was Gabriel. While eager to learn, he behaved like every object was invented yesterday and everyone in the world got together in a secret meeting to learn how to handle it just so hey could spite him. You were sure he believed all the blenders from all the kitchens in the world were out there to get him. At least he was polite about it.

     Having him moving in was a poltergeist experience. He had no problem with the flat’s layout, and you, expecting some snide comment from his rich ass about your minuscule place of residence, felt much more at ease. The issue with his wardrobe was a bit more pressing. He had nothing but the clothing he was wearing the day you two had met, and that was more like a Trojan costume for a thematic party than anything else. It did match his old fashioned aura, and reinforced that feeling you had about him not belonging to any era in history, but that was about it.

      “Oh, the wardrobe shall be no problem at all” he said pleasantly. The very next day, when you came from work, he had his closet filled with the most expensive, most comfortable outfits you had seen in your whole life. Bitch clearly had in his possession a money tree.

      He wanted, he had told you just after settling in, the whole commoner experience. If you translate that into poor dialect, it meant that you had to accompany him to get every piece of the top notch technology available at the market. He was slightly familiar with cell phones and tablets, but computers turned out to be far trickier for him.

      He said he desired to start from point zero and you had no idea, at first, about what that implied. After seeing him fumble with the keyboard of his shiny new smartphone, you concluded that the guy didn’t even know what YouTube was. You wished you’d had a camera at hand when you had showed him, because his expression was priceless.

     A puppy with a new squeaky toy wouldn’t had been more excited.

      He also had the tendency to call you ‘human’ or ‘mortal’ instead of your name. You found this to be hilarious. He would add some dumb adjectives in front of it and seriously, it was like watching a pair of too sweet teens figuring out nicknames fused in one big, clueless businessman. His favourite so far was calling you ‘tiny’. Kind of unfair, yet very fair at the same time, since the top of your head barely brushed his shoulder.

     Cohabitating with Gabriel was easy, unsurprisingly. The moment he had learnt how the vacuum and the mop worked, your stress about the house being indecent midweek flew out of the window. Gabriel found great pleasure in organizing things. You had agreed on a common budget for food too, instead of separating the shelves inside the fridge and he had classified all the groceries by alphabetical and nutritional order. Of course, to be functional, you two now had to cook together.

      Gabriel had obvious issues with food. It was clear that he did not enjoy eating. The cooking process was another talk altogether though. It implied following established steps, times and measurements, and he had even bought a colourful apron for, what he said, was the proper attitude and mind set for cooking.

      That sentence, coming from the mouth of a man that hadn’t known what a whisk was three minutes prior,  made you cry in laughter. *

     You were incredibly useful, Gabriel discovered. Not only willing to provide with all the bothersome necessities his body now had, but with living quarters and explanations about what happened around him.

      It had been a long time since Gabriel had had to stay on Earth for more than a few hours, and the world had evolved in ways he couldn’t always comprehend. Things were faster, noisier or more silent, everywhere he went was crowded with people and the air smelled weird, congested his nose and, in some occasions, when he was too close to the back of a car of bus, it irritated his eyes.

     He was still getting used to the body, to the sensations and nerves and strange inner reactions and noises it would make. Being so far from divinity had also taken a toll on him, and due the forced tiredness he had to lay down on a bed -his bed now- and sleep. He wasn’t sure he liked sleeping. He didn’t dislike it per se, but he was aware that his surrounding were not part the real world, and that time was a mockery. He would remember moments of his angelic existence, mostly, but also dreamed with new, made up, things. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that.

     He didn’t sleep every night, and would spent his time reading or watching videos. You had books all over the flat, as if a library had exploded in the centre of the room. Some were in English, some were not. Those fascinated Gabriel. He could guess the general intentions when in a conversation with someone no matter the language, but reading was another matter. You also had no preference about topics, and the novels, encyclopaedias, dictionaries and collections of poems would mixt with the astronomy, art and engineering books right under the pot of that thick leaved  plant you had growing near the windows. After thoroughly dusting the area, Gabriel found the mess didn’t bother him that much.

     The nights he did sleep were not always good. He would wake up covered in cold sweat, a scream choked inside his throat and his body painfully taut or trembling uncontrollably. He tried to be silent. As an Archangel, he feared nothing, and no stupid machination the human world would make him stutter. The pictures of Hell affected him differently though. So he kept quiet. He took a shower every time, scrubbing hard, and by the time he was done and on his way to rest on the ugly couch at the living room, the light of the kitchen would already be lit.

     You sat with him every time, at his left so you wouldn’t obstruct the view from the window, and handed him a mug with tea. He never looked at you, and you never spoke a word.

     Gabriel tried to keep his body strong, now more than ever. His lack of celestial influence was no excuse to grow soft, and he had created an exercise routine. He woke up at sunrise everyday and went for a run, and then followed some exercises before showering. You usually emerged from your room at that time, clad in pyjamas, shoved you feet in some ugly and ragged trainers Gabriel refused to even look at, put on a jacket and went to the coffee shop on the opposite side of the street to fetch some coffee. You always brought the same tea for yourself, claiming you had a delicate stomach at such an early time, but Gabriel’s beverage changed everyday. He was starting to pick some favourites.

     You went to work daily, too, and returned very late in the evening. Your shifts were scheduled oddly, and you spent the majority of the day out. Gabriel was social by nature, and, while his purpose on Earth was to learn, he had to do it from real experience, not only books. So he took his tablet -you had bought him a protector for it decorated with a pair of what humans thought were angel wings, and Gabriel didn’t now if to laugh or to cringe, although he thanked you nonetheless-, a notebook, some far too expensive pen and a book, and went outside to read or take annotations on particular behaviours.

     He was always home by the time you arrived, exhausted, from work. *

     You groaned, every step of the stair high as a mountain. You lived on the last floor, the fifth, in the building. You just climbed up to the first one. Life was a terrible thing. By the time you reached upstairs, you were panting like a congested fifteen-year old bulldog, and you bag-pack weighted a ton of bricks.

      You crossed the doorway, kicked your shoes to one side -Gabriel would had your head for it-, the bag to the other, and face planted on the couch, the armrest digging sharply in your stomach. Gabriel, sitting straight as a broomstick on the other side of the cushions yet looking incredibly comfortable at the same time, gave you a sideways glance before returning to his book briefly to dogear it. On his lap rested his faithful notebook.

      “I see you have returned. How was work today?”

      He was like a therapist at his hour. He let you ramble while going to close the door. It’s not like he could understand you, your face buried in the fabric as it was, you socked feet on the air. This time, you just grunted. It’s been a lot like that recently.

     “I’m in severe pain at this very moment” you whined, not daring to move a muscle “. And I’m hungry too.”

      Your arms were heavy, and so were your legs, like you had attached weights to them and then went to win a marathon. Existing was a bit too much right now; for some reason, the restaurant you worked at had gotten surprisingly popular in a very short time, and the clients wouldn’t top coming. You were stressed every second of it, now not having time to even joke or chat with your co-workers between servings. Everyone but the manager was jumpy, and grumpy and the bad mood in the atmosphere increased with each passing day. The cooks at the back would bark at you waiters for being two seconds too late, and today you had slipped with something -you swore it had been that damned child from table seven throwing a spoon full of ice-cream at your feet- and landed heavily on your wrist. You hadn’t twisted it by pure luck, but it still ached, and an ugly, throbbing, purplish mark had found its home in the area.

      You saw Gabriel’s white crocs pass in front of your face -the best fucking purchase you had convinced someone to make- and he handed you a kitchen towel with ice. He was a businessman in his own house too, dressed sharp and elegantly. A month after becoming roomies and you hadn’t seen him in pyjamas yet. You drew the line at some point though, and it was located at the exact time you had noticed he would wear formal shoes even inside. Getting him to discard his scarf and coat hadn’t been that hard.

      Gabriel claimed the crocs were the ugliest thing he had the disgrace to glaze upon. You had agreed wholeheartedly. They were too white and the creator had decided to sprinkle holographic glitter on them too.  They were positively horrid. And you had been dying to see Gabriel wear them.

      Poor Gabriel, bless his soul, had obliged. He had forced you to buy what he considered the most atrocious thing in the store besides his new shoes. It was socks. Fluffy, sprinkled with pancakes and the face of the Grinch -of all things to put with pancakes- all over and you had fell in love. You only put them inside the house, and Gabriel cringed every time he would mistakenly look at your feet now. For someone with Gabriel’s sense of style, your mere existence was abhorrent. It was not that your fashion inclinations were all over the place, it was that you had sold them for a chewed corn chip at the flea market on a Sunday afternoon. He had seen you in pyjamas, in teared pants, in shirts with corny messages and in those puke inducing socks, among other atrocities.

      Right now, bent over the sofa, you were wearing what Gabriel believed to be your best clothes. You had an oversized hoodie -you had thousands of those, Gabriel believed- from which neck protruded the white collar of a dress shirt, your previously pleaded pants, now wrinkled, still maintained the ironed fold somehow, but your socks showed now two holes, one each, at the front part. You would have to throw them out again. You destroyed a pair every two weeks and Gabriel was sure half of your income was sorely designated to acquire socks.

     He cleared his throat and you sent him your deadliest glare. Gabriel stood there, unaffected, hands comfortably resting in the pockets of his pants. On the crook of his elbow hung his apron. “It’s dinner time” he said “. Go change, we have soup tonight. I’ve bought onions, and eggs and bread.”

     You had told him about your mom’s recipe a week ago. Gabriel, a big hater of anything more solid that jelly, had discovered the metaphorical Garden of Wonders in soup. He loved soup. He locked eyes with you and made a show of putting his apron on. You grunted again and stood, heading tiredly to your room to change. You would shower after dinner.

     Cooking was methodical -Gabriel wasn’t very fond of physical contact and you always kept enough distance as not to make him uncomfortable- and an actual approach at conversation. You did get some commentary on anecdotes that happened today while Gabriel chopped veggies with a surgeon’s accuracy. He always pointed that he wanted to listen, learn about what people did with their dull lives and whatnot.

      Gabriel made sure to have time to listen to you. He never, ever, made you feel dumb for mispronouncing  a word and would always give you helpful tips with grammar. You appreciated it immensely. You would be reading, wouldn’t understand a term and he gladly explained it to you, or spelled a word you didn’t catch right from TV and, in short, let you ramble and corrected your grammar whenever you had a question about anything.

      You were so fucking grateful for having him.

      You weren’t anxious or self-conscious about your language skills around him. You didn’t have to be on guard 24/7 because of judgement and you didn’t have to worry about him laughing at you behind your back. He was far too good for that. Had he not been a snarky, rich bitch, you would’ve thought him an angel of sorts.

     Angel or not, you thought looking at him, he’s dumb as fuck.

     The aforementioned angel had just taken a huge bite out of a red onion and now his eyes were, quote-unquote, ‘leaking’. His face was getting very red.

     You ran to get him a glass of water. *

     Gabriel thought he would feel lonely here on Earth, or bored. He had a lot of labours up in Heaven, very important duties. He was sure Michael was now taking care of them, but he felt kind of bad for relying so much on her. Upstairs decision or not, Michael had her own duties too. He hoped Sandalphon was helping her.

     As an Archangel, he was basically the representative for the Higher Powers among the other, lesser angels. He was to assign protocols, check the security and make sure that everything in Heaven, from the upper spheres to the organization and distribution of newly arrived souls ran smoothly. He was very good at his job and took pride in its effectiveness.

     He had had to find new people to be around daily now, during your absence. Coffee shops and little restaurants were his usual spots to find a loner human willing to share a conversation, no matter the age or gender or whatever -Gabriel wasn’t very sure what gender was, but many humans seemed to believe it was a huge thing or something, and after some well aged people screamed at him for indecency and tried to call him out for his sins, which he did not have, he had decided that it was better to leave some topics untouched.

     He had not felt that necessity with you yet. You relied on him when you had doubts and random things to ask about anything and it made him feel so fucking appreciated it was unbelievable. From the simplest of questions regarding his day -you always made a point to ask him about his day, even if his routine was always the same- to you screaming his name so he would come ad watch a cool thing on a video or a show you thought he could be interested in.

     Half of the time, Gabriel didn’t know what you were talking about, and you would pause the video and explain the general context to him, which would cause a new landside  of questions and, maybe, three hours later, you would return to the original topic. That didn’t happen most of the time but it didn’t seem to bother either of you.

     Existence on Earth wasn’t as shabby as he would have thought it to be. 

     It was kind of... tolerable.

-----------

Chapter 1

#good omens #gabriel (good omens) #gabriel (good omens)/ reader #gabriel/reader #gabriel x reader #reader #the chicken that finally crossed the fucking road #chapter 2

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

🏰⚔️🐲🐲👑 DMODT- 52 update

It was as Eren had said. Herbal teas, fluid, food and rest. His vomiting had dehydrated him, and his smaller meals in Marley had left every scrap of nutrition going to the baby. A baby which really wasn't being welcomed by the soldiers of the barracks, not that Eren was either. Everyone was whispering about their new prince and his lack of prominence in Eldia. Or how stupid he was given the type of man Zeke was. It wasn't his fault that he was currently stuck in bed and unable to leave his room. He'd wanted to, and was in a foul mood for being denied. He knew how powerful public presence was, and that the people couldn't believe in a prince who never made time for him. He was just simply too ill and fatigued. Erwin and Hanji had both been shocked as the healer had examined him, Erwin having to leave the room, while Hanji now refused to leave his side until his condition improved. In Marley, he'd avoided looking in mirrors as he didn't want to see who he'd become, but in the room he was now in, the dresser sat just a few steps from the bed, and when he'd set eyes on himself he'd been so beyond disgusted. He looked like a living doll. His sharp cheek bones, pale complexion, and dim eyes all came together in a way that made him seem barely human. Why had no one told him how sick he looked? He doubted that just two days at sea could have left in his such a condition. Was this what Zeke had seen? And was that why they were in Eldia? Because the alpha didn't want him dying in Marley before they got their hands on Eldia's resources? At this point, he didn't know. He just wanted to get out of bed. He wanted to talk to the soldiers, and the people of the port town. He wanted to show that he wasn't a weak omega simply because he was pregnant, and that he still had their best interests in heart despite being now residing in Marley. Letting herself into the room Eren was using, Hanji smiled happily. In her hold was a breakfast tray piled high with food, which immediately caught Luca's attention "Good morning! How are we both this morning?" Eren rolled his eyes at Hanji. She'd literally only left to get breakfast half an hour earlier, giving Eren privacy as he showered. There were guards at his door, and Zeke had already stopped by to enquire about his health. He was sick of people asking. He was already self conscious over his pregnancy, and the fact he didn't look 6 months along. Hanji's smile widened "No need to give me that look, Prince Eren" Huffing, Eren crossed his legs, keeping both hands around Luca's rather large waist so the dragon wouldn't attempt to jump on Hanji "I'm fine. I'm sick of this bed, and Luca is sick of being trapped inside" Hanji rolled her eyes back at him, before placing down the breakfast tray on the bed in order to sort Luca's breakfast out for him "You know we can't let you..." "I'm pregnant. It's not the end of the world" "It's not a typical pregnancy" "And I'm not exactly the typical royal? The whore who screwed his way to the top? Being named prince for being the bonded mate of the prince, then marrying the prince of the enemy nation, and now showing up pregnant?" "Someone's grumpy" "Because you have no idea what it's been like" They both knew that was a load of shit. Armin and Mikasa had both debriefed Hanji and Erwin over every little thing that'd happened in Marley, including his being attacked "I do. I really do. You had a drop, and you're still recovering" "A what?" What the fuck was a drop? "Your depression. Mikasa and Armin said you shut down completely. An omega drop is an omega so thoroughly distressed that their body simply gives up. You're a shell of yourself. It lowers your bodily functions to nearly non-existent, so your mind can focus on healing your mental health. It's particularly dangerous as when an omega drops, they often forget to eat or drink" Eren hissed. His omega flooding him with the feeling of having been insulted. He'd been pretty bad. He couldn't deny there weren't breakdowns, or times he felt like nothing mattered without Levi. But it hadn't been a drop... not that he could remember. If he'd had one of these mythical drops, it would have been when Levi had deserted him "That's... not what happened. I am depressed. But you know what, I think it's pretty fucking normal given everything that's happened. You all had no right labelling me, or my mental health without asking me about how I feel" "We only want what's best for you. The letters you have sent us have made very little sense, even before you announced your pregnancy, and now you have Zeke protecting you?" "What do you mean they made no sense!? I've been doing everything I can for Eldia, or was until my morning sickness got too bad for me to keep on top of things. And as for Zeke, he's trying. I don't trust him. I don't love him. But he is trying for the sake of the baby. He's not touched me badly. He hasn't slapped me, or punched me. He hasn't been physically violent with me. If you want to know why I look so shit, it's because in Eldia, they give their omegas even less than that bowl you're preparing for Luca. Omegas have to wear collars. They can't drink wine unless their alpha gives it to them. I have bars on my windows thanks to Queen Dina and I'm not allowed to wander around in case I'm injured. I'm sick of collars and I'm sick of being in bed. I want to walk around and talk to people. I want to feel the sun against my skin, then I want to visit Historia" "Zeke's given you permission?" Releasing Luca, the dragon dived for his bowl of breakfast. His son still needed milk, yet milk was no longer enough. Shifting the way he was sitting, he accepted the breakfast tray from Hanji. Boiled eggs, toast, game meat and leafy vegetables. It was practically a feast after what Marley had to offer "I don't need to ask him for permission. He knows something isn't right with the pregnancy, given how little I'm showing for how far along I am. I told him I want to speak with Historia and he told me to do what I needed" "Eren, we only wish to help. You've taken in such a huge burden" "I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew it wasn't all going to be roses and honey. I know you don't think I'm telling the truth, but he really hasn't done anything awful to me outside of the times we had sex" "That's alright then. I know you always see the good in people, so I guess I'm worried you're trying to see the good in Zeke, and missing everything else going on" "Like the letters?" Hanji nodded "They make no sense. In one you demanded rice and grains be sent at once, and in another bear meat" No. He'd never once demanded anything be sent over "I didn't say that" "We have the letters, all signed with your name" "Do you have them here? I want to see them. I don't remember making demands" "You did. Levi soon realised something was wrong when you're replies didn't match what he asked" He knew they had to follow the pretences of Levi being Erwin's bodyguard, and yet it still fucking hurt to hear his name "I want to see those letters. Queen Dina is acting and moving on her own. She openly loathes my being wed to Zeke, and I'm sure she's praying for something to happen to this child. I also wish to leave the barracks later. I want to know what's been happening since I left, and I want to know what else we could be doing in order to help the people" "Eren, the healer said you need to rest" "I know what the healer said, but lying in bed is only causing me more stress. I need to be up, and I need to be doing something" "You need to take care of yourself and your baby" "I'm not just an oven for the baby to rest in until it's ready for birthing. Being pregnant doesn't make me weaker, and I'm sick of being treated like it does!" Yelling, sparks of magic shot from his fingers. One breaking Luca's breakfast bowl, while another set the dresser across from the bed on fire. Feeling rather annoyed, Eren gathered up a small portion of his magic in order to put the fire out. Still sitting on the bed, Hanji gave him a disappointed look "Don't do that. Ok. I know you don't understand, so stop talking like you know what's best for me. You may leave" "Eren..." "Hanji, leave" He didn't want his magic to blow up again, and he was insulted that everyone seemed to think they all knew best for him, without going to the effort to ask him what he needed. He was nearly 21, he knew well enough what he wanted and he needed. He'd done what they wanted, simply to keep the peace, but keeping the peace was starting to cost him his sanity. He'd kept his mouth closed when Levi's birthday passed without his being allowed out of bed, he'd dreamed so vividly of Levi that his heart felt like it was breaking all over again when he woke to find no one mentioning the alpha, and no one understanding why he was so upset. Surely they could just give 5 minutes of their time where they listened to him, rather than treating him like this? There was barely five minutes between Hanji leaving and Erwin arriving. Of course she'd run to him. She'd probably told him all about this "drop" theory of hers, where he wasn't mentally sound. Walking over to the bed, Erwin sat down with a heavy sigh "Hanji's just been to see me. Is there anything you'd like to explain?" "Would you listen if I did?" Raising an eyebrow at him, Erwin made a gesture to continue with his hand "I want to get out of bed for longer than using the bathroom" "The healers here feel it's too soon" "I know that. But this is my body, shouldn't that count for something?" "Hanji said your magic flared..." "Because I'm stuck doing nothing. If you're going to lecture me, lecture me. If you're going to listen to me, then listen" "We're worried about you" "You don't need to be" "You're pregnant" "No shit. Really? I hadn't noticed. I thought I was just getting fat from all the food in Marley" Jumping straight to defensive wasn't the best plan "Eren, you're pregnant. Your mate is missing, and your husband is suddenly concerned for you welfare. If you're sleeping with Zeke, or if you love Zeke, this is something we need to know about. It could be another form of manipulation, given your pheromones are screaming out that you want and need an alpha to protect you. If we do let you walk around, there will be a number of alphas..." So that was it. They didn't give two shits about his health, they just didn't want him riling up the soldiers "A number of alpha's who need to see that omega's aren't weak, simply because they're pregnant. You won't even let me work, or read any of the reports and correspondence for Eldia. Hanji said something about my letters not making sense. I want to see them, and I want to take a walk outside" "Eren..." That tone. He hated that fucking tone. Like Erwin understood what he was going through. Like he had the right to tell him everything would be ok. That it would all work out in the end... at this point, Eren didn't see how things could work out, when he wasn't allowed to do anything "No. Don't. You don't get to play the sympathetic friend, then keep me in here! I can't sit still, and you know I can't! It's like you said, my mate is gone! He's gone and none of you even said anything about his birthday! I'm sick of this! If you'd manned up, none of this would have happened. If you'd done your job, or pushed your own ego aside for longer than 5 minutes, he wouldn't be gone! I'd be with him, and I'd be happy. You all can get fucked!" Erwin let out a low growl, his voice increasingly pained with each sentence "How long are you going to keep rubbing our mistakes in our faces?! This wasn't what we wanted for you! You know it wasn't, and now you're pregnant when you swore you couldn't get pregnant. Why can't you see that we want to protect you?!" The door to Eren's room burst open, Zeke standing there with his hand on his sword "Eren, are you alright? I heard yelling..." For possibly the second time in his whole life, Eren was happy to see Zeke. Or maybe it was the first, given he didn't remember much of what he was feeling during the attack "I'm fine, Zeke. Levi was just a little worried giving that I've decided I want to return to the castle today. He thinks I should rest, but I think I should return the castle as soon as possible, then head up to Draecia to make sure the baby is truly alright. I don't think I can calm down until I know for sure" It was a cruel card to play, turning Zeke's concern for their unborn child against him, simply so he could get out of the barracks. Releasing his sword, Zeke nodded "If that's what you want, then we shall leave as soon as we can" Moving to his side, his husband dropped a kiss atop his head. Eren trying not to squirm with discomfort at the action. He knew things had changed again between them as Zeke had help him protectively upon the ship, but he hadn't thought they were onto random kisses, unless it was Zeke's way of warning Erwin not to stick his nose into his and Eren's relationship... Why the fuck did alpha's have to be so complicated? "I'll have our belongings packed and moved at once" "Thank you, Zeke. Levi will assist you. I will need to ride with both him and Hanji, as we need to discuss Eldia politics. Will this be alright?" "No. You'll be staying with me until we reach the castle" "But..." "Eren. No. This is not up for negotiation. I bought you home, but I fon't trust you to not run, nor do I trust that Eldia has your best interests in mind. You shall ride with me, Yelena, Pieck and Porco. Levi shall ride with the driver" Too many alphas... way too many alphas... nervously he asked "May Armin join? Given he's a beta?" "You may have Armin by your side" Oh thank god for that. And thank god Zeke thought himself so far above Armin that the thought of being jealous hadn't come to mind "Thank you. I need to prepare to leave, and to finish my breakfast" Erwin wasn't pleased, but Zeke stayed by Eren's side until the alpha finally rose off the bed "Fine. We'll see to the preparations" Porco and Pieck had soon grown bored of riding in the royal carriage not even lasting two days before switching out to ride with the rest of the guards, leaving Yelena, Zeke, Armin and Luca to continually watch over him. It wasn't like riding in the royal carriage was the hardest thing in the world to do. It literally involved sitting until his butt had long since gone numb, then Erwin would decided that wherever they were was where they'd make camp for the night. That was it. For all the fanfair, and attention the carriage brought it was boring as hell inside. Armin would make sure he ate and kept his fluids up. Luca would sit in his lap with his front feet on Eren's shoulders as he slept. Yelena would gaze at him like there was something humorous with a smile on her lips that never left, leaving Zeke to watch over him like he almost content to do so. As boring as the trip was, it was nice to see Eldia all over again. It was nice to see the people still going about their everyday lives, the children playing in the streets, blissfully ignorant to the world around them. It was while watching them that Eren finally felt movement in his own stomach. What he'd thought was gas over the weeks, now smacked him in the face as kicks from his child. It'd brung tears to his eyes all over again, Zeke the first to take his hand and ask what was wrong. Pulling back from his husband, Eren buried his face against Armin's neck and sobbed himself dry. It'd been real enough before, but now he could feel them. They were now truly alive to him. He couldn't go back. He couldn't abort the baby, not now he felt it. He was thoroughly stuck in his situation. * Zeke didn't push him to stay with him once they reached the castle. Eren not staying long enough in the carriage to hear the alpha even if he had. Sweeping into the castle, there was just one place he wanted to be, and that was in Levi's old quarters. Making his way straight to Levi's old room, Eren let himself in with no problems. It'd been locked, but that was hardly an issue when you had magic. Slipping into the room, the omega's knees gave out as the door closed. Levi. His scent was faint, or would have been to anyone but him, yet for Eren it filled his senses. If he could just let Levi go, he could be happy. If he could just leave this all in the past... Engulfed in the memories of the time they'd spent together in this room, the secret whispers and heated moans. The promised cried out in the heat of passion, for the first time since Levi left his body started to respond. Slick all but gushing as he stumbled up and over to Levi's bed. Since laying with Zeke, he hadn't wanted to be touched, even by himself. The shame of laying with an alpha that wasn't his own continued to stain his heart like an ink stain that ran soul deep. Starved of affection and attention, his body acted while his mind drifted, almost hearing Levi's voice as his hands dipped below the waistband of his pants where his leaking dick throbbed with the need for attention. When Eren's orgasm hit, his body fell limply against Levi's bed. The lack of knot left him feeling hollow, especially when he thought of how many times he and Levi had lain together in the most intimate of ways within the walls of Levi's chambers. He missed him. He missed him so fucking much that it felt as if the only way to ease his pain was to tear his own heart from his chest. What would Levi think of him if he could see him like this? Naked across his bed and pregnant with Zeke's child. Eren hated proving Hanji right, especially after he'd protested that he was fine. Waking up in Levi's bathtub, the room was filled with red rose petals, and his body covered in blood. Sitting at the side of the bathtub, Luca was howling. His son's trills filled with pain. Pushing himself out of the bath, whatever he'd done to himself had healed. Yet he felt sluggish and sick. Gathering Luca up, the dragon dug his claws into Eren's shoulders, small diamonds crusted against his scales. He'd never seen Luca cry diamonds before, whatever he'd done couldn't have been good "What happened?" Trilling softly, Luca hid his face against Eren's neck. His small chest heaving as he "sniffled" "Ok, baby boy. I'm sorry. Mummy is sorry... let's take a shower? Then you can help me clean up?" Whatever Eren had done, he'd done away from Luca. Luca had torn the door between Levi's bedroom and bathroom to shreds, while Levi's room was filled with white roses that seemed to be splattered in with his own blood. Cleaning the mess away, he tried as hard as he could remember the previous night only to draw a complete blank. After jerking off, he couldn't remember anything, and Luca was too small to let him know what he'd done. Dressing in Levi's clothes, the alpha's tunic clung to his belly as he wrestled into the place, his stomach was definitely bigger than it'd been the day before, yet he hadn't felt much movement since he'd woken. Hanji may just be right. He may very well be on the edge of a "drop" if he was acting without memory of the incident. It was ahead of schedule, but he needed to see Historia. The last thing he needed was to "drop" when Zeke was in the castle, and no one cared about his desires or needs other than the alpha. Pulling his hair up into a pony tail, he dressed semi-casually. His pants a loose pair he'd picked up traveling, while his shoes were skipped completely in favour of simple socks. So maybe he didn't look royal or distinguished, or even semi-casual like he lied to himself about, but it was the most comfortable clothes he'd worn in months, and better yet, he'd somehow lost the ridiculous collar from Marley. If he was still married to Zeke when Zeke took the throne, that was the first law of Marley he was overthrowing. Wandering down to breakfast, everyone stared as he let himself in. It seemed as if only their visitors form Marley were still eating. Zeke was quick to rise, striding over to greet him "Prince Eren" "Prince Zeke. I'm sorry I'm so late" Zeke's eyes were firmly on his stomach. If the alpha was staring like that, it was probably much more prominent than he thought "I know. They seem to have grown. I'm sorry if it disgusts you" "No. No. It's not that. Are you alright, after last night?" Last night? Had he done something? His mind leapt slightly in the hopes that Zeke would be able to clue him in if he had "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean" "Sleeping in... Prince Erwin's room. Did it help?" That was a disappointment. Zeke didn't seem to know anything about his blanked out breakdown "I know what you want to hear, but I don't know. I must have slept hard as I can't remember much after hitting the bed" Zeke's lips thinned into a pained smile "Perhaps we should eat? Are you hungry?" No. Maybe. He really didn't know, especially not with everyone watching them. They had to have the perfect marriage to maintain peace. Leaning up, he kissed Zeke's cheek "A little, maybe. My stomach isn't feeling great. I need to head up to Draecia as soon as possible, if that's alright" Zeke nodded "I understand. Please come eat with me, I'll be accompanying you there and back to make sure you aren't meeting with him" Reaching his hand out, Eren let his husband take it. "Perfect marriage" repeating in his mind. Only, when Zeke's hand touched his, Eren felt as if he'd been zapped by lightening. Tearing his hand away from the alpha's, he knew he'd just hurt Zeke's reputation in front of everyone "I'm sorry. I don't feel... I... I need to go" "Eren..." "Zeke, I'm sorry. I need some air. We'll talk later" Running from the dining room, Eren smacked straight into Mikasa. The female alpha growling as she caught him before he could land on his arse "Eren!? Where have you been? I came to get you when you didn't show at breakfast..." Propping him back up on his feet, Luca trilled like he was trying to dob Eren into Mikasa for bad behaviour. His son's claws were firmly digging into his shoulders far too hard, crying out in pain, he twisted awkwardly as he pulled Luca off him and dropped his son into Mikasa's hold "We've talked about this. Your claws are sharp, and they hurt" Luca huffed at him, not giving two shits as he nuzzled into Mikasa, who'd only just set eyes on his bump "You're bigger" "You're the second one to say so" "But you weren't that big yesterday" "Mikasa, eyes off my stomach. I'm going up to Draecia in a little while with Zeke. I was just talking to him about it" "So you ate breakfast" "Uh... not exactly" Mikasa scowled. She'd taken weeks to accept that sometimes Luca's claws left him bleeding, yet it was kind of obvious that that wasn't the cause of the scowl. Healing himself, he sighed at his sister "I'm not hungry" "You need to eat. I know you didn't eat yesterday afternoon or evening" "But I'm not hungry" "You need to eat. For both you and the sake of the baby. I know you had a rough night in the prince's old quarters, I could smell your distress in there. Even now, you don't smell right. Please, Eren. Don't let yourself fall ill again" Didn't smell right? All Eren could smell was Levi, and blood thanks to Luca "I didn't let myself fall ill in the first place" "You know what I mean" First Zeke, now Mikasa. He really should have stayed in Levi's room. At least there he wasn't being insulted, even if those doing the insulting hadn't meant it that way "Mikasa, I never intended to fall ill, morning sickness is not something that can be controlled, and it's not something that magic can "cure". Neither is depression. Zeke and I will be heading to Draecia later today to talk with Historia, about the pregnancy. I'll eat later" "Historia won't let Zeke into Draecia" "She's going to have to. He won't let me leave alone, in case I don't intend to return" "Then why not leave Luca here with us?" Eren grabbed his son back. He wasn't leaving Luca anywhere. Zeke might have deemed him "useless", but that didn't mean others would. Kissing Luca's forehead, his son cooed at him "He stays with me. I want him to see Draecia, and I want Historia to examine him given his magic is so weak" "Then take someone else along with you. I'll come, or Armin. Please don't go alone with him. Why don't you write to Historia? Have her and Ymir come down here instead?" "I'm not endangering them both. Besides, Historia is pregnant" "You're pregnant too!" "Really? I hadn't noticed the way everyone is staring at my stomach. I'm not hungry and I don't want to talk about this any longer" "Eren, you're foolish for trusting Zeke" Not once had he said he'd trusted Zeke "I never said I trusted him. He's just the only one taking the time to ask me what I need and what I want" "Because he's using you! He doesn't care about you, and I doubt he cares about the baby. He just knows that that is the easiest way to bring you under his thumb" "I know!" Yelling at Mikasa wasn't how he'd thought the conversation would end, but he was so done. Groaning, he hiked Luca up as the baby decided to kick and make its presence known. Now he was yelling in front of both his children. Storming away from Mikasa, Eren marched back to Levi's room... to find Erwin waiting. Glaring at Erwin, Erwin raised his hand like he was surrendering "I don't want to fight. I've been thinking about what you said. We were all shocked over how close you'd become with Zeke. I also know you're not ok. This room smells of your distress, and your scent is calling to Levi, which gives me hope that you haven't fallen for Zeke" "I'm so not in the mood for this. I've just had the same lecture from Mikasa" "No lecture. I brought those letters for you to check. I thought you might prefer to go though them here than in the sun room" Still suspicious, he stared at Erwin until Erwin pointed to the piles of correspondence on the dining table "That... would be nice. I don't mean to be so agitated, but my dynamic isn't making any of this easy, and you're all making me feel useless. I know I chose this path, and I will stand by it for as long as I can. I just need you all to give me space to breathe? And I need you to listen to me" "Maybe you'll understand once you see the letters?" "We should have enough time. Zeke and I are heading to Draecia. Before you say it, I know my stomach's grown overnight" "I wasn't going to mention it. How is your nausea?" "Better? It's hard being in his room. Knowing how much he wanted this makes it seem that much crueler" Placing Luca down, the baby dragon huffed at him. Stalking off, Luca walked over to the bed, leaning up to dig his claws into the bed like a cat using a scratching post "Is he alright?" "He's been in a mood all morning... fuck, I forgot to get him breakfast" "Have you had breakfast?" "I tried?" Erwin didn't believe him, Eren's mouth betraying him "Zeke wanted to eat together, but when he touched me it set my omega off. Then Mikasa thought to lecture me about how I let myself get sick. Morning sickness isn't something I can magic better. I'm hungry but I'm not, and I really don't want another lecture" "I'll send for some food. If you're hungry, help yourself, if not, it's there for when you are. What does Luca like to eat?" "Milk, and some meat" "I'll organise it" Erwin was being suspiciously nice. As the alpha left, it struck him that the alpha probably missed Levi. How many times had Erwin visited Levi's room? How many times had he come here to remember the greatest fuck up of his life? Why did all these alphas make it so hard to be mad at them? Levi left because he was going insane. Zeke was a product of a fucked up childhood. Erwin was a great big coward who'd lost his best friend, and Mikasa wanted the best for him.

[romvnova]

Becoming The Raptor Wrangler: Chapter One

Warning: There may be potential triggers littered throughout this chapter. Please read this at your own discretion. Keep in mind, in my headcanon Owen suffers heavily from PTSD and anxiety and it’ll be a key focus of his character for me until he finds a way to cope with it (apropos to “his girls” { aka. the raptor squad } Blue, Charlie, Delta and Echo).

There’s an unrelenting pounding of someone’s fist on the metal of his Airstream’s door. Owen, who was in an uneasy sleep — it’s always uneasy — sets up with a rough gasp, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as the blood rushes from his head.

“Alright. ALRIGHT!” He snarls as he throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, planting his hand to the wall for a second before he pushes off of it and goes to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open. The knocking, blissfully, ceases but there’s a fire in his father’s eyes as Owen opens the door and steps aside as Logan Grady invites himself in that makes Owen immediately regret opening the door.

“Come in.” Owen invites as his father turns sharply on his heel and turns to face Owen who lets out a breath and closes the door. His father’s gaze burns through him and Owen can’t help but feel that it was intimidating enough to cause the devil himself to think twice.

“Owen, this has to stop.” His father’s arm shoots out to stop him as Owen makes to brush past him, reaching for the small, orange prescription bottles laying on the RV’s counter.

“What the hell?” Owen demands gruffly, growing more grumpy by the moment as his mood swings. He needs the anti-depressants and anxiety medication to function something close to a normal human being and his father knows it. It isn’t a magical cure all — the flashbacks and the anxiety attacks still happen — but it helps.

“I can’t sit by and just watch this any longer.”

“Watch what?” Owen snaps. He’s taller than his father and his father wasn’t truly the road-block that he thought he was. If Owen really wanted to …he could get past him. But Owen didn’t really want to. There was too much of a risk that he’d seriously hurt his dad in the process and despite his raising annoyance he didn’t want to hurt his old man.

“Watch you waste away in this trailer. Look Owen, it’s been six months since you …retired from the SEALS and in that time you’ve done nothing to help yourself. You just keep taking the medication they prescribe for you. You haven’t put much, if any effort, towards finding a new purpose. You need somethin’, boy. Somethin’ other than these damn medicines and this trailer. You need to find your path. You’ve lost your way.” Owen’s lips mash into a hard, terse line and he rolls his eyes, shifting his position so he leans his hips against the counter.

His father wasn’t wrong.

Still, that goddamn Grady stubbornness rises like a white hot heat in Owen as he feels the urge to defend himself.

“Nobody’s hiring vets, Dad. I’m a liability to them. If I have a PTSD episode while at work …that’s on them. They can’t take that risk.” Owen’s tone is colorfully snide to accent the sharp air quotes he did. He’d only heard that line over a thousand times.

Can you get through a day without the jackhammer triggering a flashback?

No.

Sorry son, I just…I can’t take that risk.

Yeah, I’d gladly hire you as security. Your martial arts repertoire is impressive, man…but there’s a lot of flashing lights and heavy bass. I see that you suffer from PTSD. Can you confidently tell me that it won’t trigger an episode?

Not as confidently as you’d like me to.

I’m real sorry, man. I can’t take the risk. Better luck next time.

Owen understands …to some degree. He gets it but he can only take being kicked to the curb like a prized fighting dog that’s lost it’s value for so long before it takes it’s toll on him. He’s struggling …and it’s only because of sheer stubbornness that he hasn’t taken to alcohol as a suppressant.

“I mean, honestly, Pops. What skills do I have to offer the world? It’s not like there’s exactly a high demand for a black-ops trained killer. And, ok, I could make a few bucks training animals …but people’re too afraid that I’ll train their animals to be weapons.”

Owen watches his father contemplate his words and a long silence stretches between them followed closely by a rise and fall of Logan Grady’s shoulders.

“Listen, Owen. I need an extra pair of hands at the Ranch. I can’t haul an axe like I used to and Rick brought me a particularly rebellious stallion that needs a good trainer. I’ll pay you the same wage I pay everyone else —”

“Pops …,” Owen shakes his head in refusal. “I’m not —”

“Now, don’t argue with me boy …”

“— I’m not takin’ your money.” Owen insists firmly with a bit more passive aggression than he meant to. Realizing he’s stepped boot to boot with his father, staring down at him in the same manner he’d stared down at the men in his platoon when they’d disobeyed him Owen swallows thickly and reels back, reigning himself in. “I’ll work on the Ranch,” Owen agrees, hand gripping the the wood top of the dinette’s bench. He tries to make it look casual but his grip is hard and he feels the wood slowly giving way beneath his fingers that have gone numb from the death grip he exerts. “but I won’t accept your money.”

“Molly Warbeck keeps asking if you’ll be coming back to church anytime soon.”

Molly Warbeck was Owen’s ex from high school. One of those down-home, homegrown, found on good ground girls. Owen joined the Navy the summer of his Junior year in school and their relationship ended a few days after their senior graduation. Owen broke it off with her because it hadn’t seemed fair to him for her to keep holding onto him when he had ambitions to join the SEALS. Holding onto a man who’d became a ghost, never knowing when and where he was going or if he’d make it back.

People in your life were messy.

And now …well, now, the Owen he’d been in high school didn’t exist anymore and it wasn’t fair to either of them to try to ‘pick up where they’d left off’. Maybe for her it was easy, maybe she hadn’t changed at all …but Owen couldn’t be that kid anymore.

“It doesn’t seem right to go to Church when I don’t believe in God.” Owen squints out the window, arms crossed over his chest. He approaches the subject gruffly and close-minded. His decision’s been made on both fronts: God and Molly Warbeck. Surprisingly, his father doesn’t push, for all of Logan Grady’s faults, he tries not to push religion on Owen, and tries to respect his point of view. Molly’s a bit of a different story but Owen’s well adapted to holding his ground.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was gettin’ at…” Logan scratches as his salt and pepper beard.

“— I know what you were getting at.” Owen interrupts, brushing past his father. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and clean up and I’ll hitch a ride with you up to the ranch.” Logan grunts and heads towards the door, pushing it open and pushing it closed behind him. Owen’s fingers reach for the prescription bottle but he stops just short of tugging it into his grasp.

The anti-depressants and anxiety medications make Owen’s life more tolerable …and he doesn’t remember the last time he tried to make it through a day without them. The goal’d always been to wean himself off of them once he found solid ground beneath his feet again.

Why not start today?

Currently, the ground felt pretty damn solid …but that was a rocky slope. He’d just started up the mountain that seems so damn and impossibly high. One step at a time.

He retracts his hand and goes into the ‘bedroom’ to change into jeans and an old flannel shirt and contemplates shaving off his beard that he’d let grow. He runs his hands over it for a moment, considering his options before he remembers that his father’s outside waiting for him. He exits the RV and hops up into the bed of his father’s rumbling, old Chevy truck, rapping his knuckles against the roof of the cab, snickering at his father when Logan pokes his head out of the window he cranked down.

“Get in the cab of the truck, boy. Like a normal person.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He laughs as his father’s head disappears into the cab and he puts the truck in drive and they rumble down the rough path to the ranch. It was reminiscent of Owen’s time as a kid. He’d always preferred to ride in the bed of the truck as opposed to being wedged in the cab between his parents, or having to share that tiny middle seat with his younger brother ( which couldn’t have been even remotely safe now that he thinks about it ). Besides that, it feels claustrophobic to him.

He ducks and sinks down into the bed to avoid being beheaded by low hanging branches, and props one knee up, resting his hand on his knee, back pressed against the back of the cab as he watches his RV at the very back of their land disappear into the thick trees, his Triumph the last thing he sees glinting in the early morning sun.

The window at the back of the cab unlatches and his dad slides it open. He’s got the news playing on the radio and Owen swallows the lump that forms in his throat as the woman radio personality talks about an armed robbery, a workplace shooting and a kidnapping. The last was the story of how a young girl was raped by her step-dad repeatedly and Owen’s stomach roils with nausea and for a moment his muscles tense as he prepares to hoist himself over the side of the truck to throw up.

“Turn it off.” Owen rasps into the window. “For the love of fuck…turn it off.” He doesn’t want to hear the shit the world’d turned into. This wasn’t what he’d fought for. This wasn’t the America he’d sacrificed damn near everything for.

A few seconds past.

“Are you alright, Owen?” The truck lurches and Owen grabs the side of the truck bed and empties his mostly empty stomach over it.

“Fine.” Owen gasps as he finishes, scrunching up his face at the sour taste that lingers in his mouth. “There’s a reason I don’t own a TV.” He tells his father gruffly.

There’s a long pause and Owen wipes the light sheen of sweat off of his forehead with the grease stained cloth tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. The cool fall air feels good against his heated skin. The news only pisses him off, makes him sick. Makes him feel like everything he and every other service member did was for nothing.

He thought he’d been some damn unsung hero. He thought he’d known who the enemies of mankind were …but the truth was that they lingered everywhere. Monsters hiding in human skin everywhere.

He thought about joining the local police or state trooper force. It seemed like a natural transition: uphold the law, protect the innocent. It’d been his plan, originally. His therapist recommended against it claiming it to be ‘least suitable career choice for him due to his emotional issues from his tours of deployment’.

Emotional issues. That was a nice way of putting it. Candy coated, legal jargon bullshit.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“You woke me up.” Owen replied, fidgeting with a loose string on his jeans as he props his knee back up. He doesn’t say it accusatory. Just tiredly. His father makes a small rumble of disapproval.

“I’ll make you some breakfast. A man needs to eat.”

They drive for a few more minutes, a silence settling between them only for Owen to let out a grunt and grab onto the side of the bed to keep himself from slamming back into the back of the cab as his father slams on the breaks. The tires squeal in protest and the truck engine rumbles it’s own displeasure.

“What the hell?” Owen asks, pushing himself to his feet in the bed to loom over the roof of the cab. Three black cars are parked along the lane. A man looking out of place in jeans and a casual shirt stands leaning against the Mercedes and two men in black uniform flank him, their hands resting on their sidearms. Hardly inconspicuous.

“I thought I told ya to get off my land.” Owen’s father yells as he goes to get out of the truck.

“Stay in the truck, Dad.” Owen warns his father as he hops over the side of the bed, moving around the truck to meet the man who moves forward. Owen watches his lackeys as they mirror his movements.

“Lieutenant Commander Grady.” The man holds a meaty hand out for Owen to shake but Owen doesn’t reciprocate.

“Former Lieutenant Commander.” Owen corrects gruffly. “I’m retired, in case you haven’t heard.”

“Dogs of war like us never retire, Lieutenant Commander.” The man replies with a quirk of his lips into a smile. Owen doesn’t trust him. “I’m Vic Hoskins. Head of Security at InGen on Isla Nublar.”

“I know who you are.” Owen replies curtly.

“You’re a hard man to get ahold of, Mr. Grady.” Vic Hoskins seems adamant on dancing around what Owen really wants to know. Owen recognizes the power-play happening. Hoskins wants to be in control of their conversation and that annoys Owen greatly.

“It’s intentional.” He didn’t want the government or military sniffing him out, he didn’t want to join any support groups. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Want to tell me why you’re harassin’ my Old Man, Mr. Hoskins?”  Owen demands in lieu of asking.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Jurassic World?” Hoskins inquires with a grin that would put a cat to shame. Except he thinks Owen’s his canary. Big mistake, but for the moment allowing Hoskins to think he’s in charge here works to Owen’s advantage and thus he allows it.

“It’s hard not to be. Advertisements everywhere you look.” Owen doesn’t agree with it. With the de-extinction of the dinosaurs, with exploiting them for money and entertainment. It rubbed him the wrong way on multiple levels …but he knows he has no room to talk. Hadn’t he done the same thing with his animals during his time with the SEALS? Train them to be weapons of war? He’d exploited them for the military, and they’d been used and disposed of in lieu of soldier’s lives.

And it haunted Owen every day of his life.

“You ever been?”

“Nah. Zoos aren’t my thing.” Owen replies cracking a lopsided grin that hides knives beneath it. It’s all a complex mess of feelings for him. He understands with the ‘saving endangered animals from extinction’ prospect of it …but then again wasn’t that what animal sanctuaries were for?

“I have to be honest, Mr. Grady …I’m looking for someone of your particular skill set to join InGen’s team.”

“And what skill set would that be?”

“We’re working on a new project called IBRIS. We’d like for you to research the cognitive abilities and behavior of the Raptors. See if they can bond with the humans, if they can be trained to follow commands. Your file appeared on my desk with a high and shining recommendation.”

The ‘no’ lingers on the very tip of Owen’s tongue. He’s not going to train war machines. Instead of ‘no’, he laughs. He laughs because it sounds so ridiculous. A dinosaur trainer? Training dinosaurs wasn’t like training dogs and horses.

“You want me to train velociraptors?” Owen asks, just to be sure he’s heard Hoskins correctly.

“This isn’t a laughing matter, soldier. It’s a serious offer. It’s a good offer. Misrani is willing to triple your wage you made before you retired.”

Holy shit.

“Full employee benefits. Retirement plans. Everything top of the line. Right at your fingertips.”

It sounds grand but Owen’s not out for money. He gets a nice fat pension from the military as it is. He chooses to live in the old Airstream on his family’s land. It’s quiet. It’s comfortable and he’s never been a man of pomp.

There’s a big question of morality in play. As Owen stares Hoskins down, the other man does the same to him. He doesn’t want to train the velociraptors for monetization and exploitation. Besides that, unleashing velociraptors on a battlefield? Sounds like a massacre waiting to happen. Could he let that happen? Owen gets the feeling that this Project IBRIS was going to happen with or without him spearheading it. If he didn’t accept the job then someone who had no moral compass would come in, in his place. At least if he accepts Owen has a chance to ensure that he’s a valuable piece on the chess board. He can ensure that InGen couldn’t dispose of him when he got in their way because he would get in their way. There was no way that he was going to let them unleash raptors in active war zones. For the sake of both the people and the animals themselves.

“I need some time to think about it.” Owen finally responds. He already knows his answer but he wants InGen to sweat it out for a bit. They want him bad, he can tell by the twitch in Vic Hoskins eye as Owen intentionally displays deliberation.

“You have twenty four hours. There’s a jet waiting at the local airport. It departs at seven hundred hours tomorrow morning. Your name’s on the manifest.” Hoskins tells him before turning sharply on his heel and walking back to the car, his lackeys following after a few prolonged seconds as Owen plants his hands on his hips.

InGen wants him bad enough to assume that he’ll say ‘yes’.

“What’d they want?” Owen looks over his shoulder as the rumbling engine of his father’s truck draws closer, the crunch of gravel under tire slowing as his father pulls the truck to a stop beside Owen.

“To offer me a job.” Owen replies, going around the front of the truck and hopping in the passenger side of the cab.

#becoming the raptor wrangler #owen grady #vic hoskins #jurassic world #jw #logan grady

[mr880]

Insomnia and Your Health

Effects of Insomnia

Whether you've got got insomnia, or conflict to nod off, you understand that it's far a depressing way to live. Why else could there be such a lot of humans searching out the way to go to sleep? What you can no longer understand is that insomnia has numerous long time effects, and is virtually surely bad for your fitness and simple well being. Here is a brief list of the effects of insomnia on health. Accident Prone Illnesses Quality of Life Depression Obesity Headaches If you stay the existence of random sound asleep hours, or have suffered from some type insomnia for the beyond few years, then you'll be experiencing those signs already. Most human beings are ignorant of the signs and symptoms and symptoms and without a doubt see it as a part of each day life, but it may be higher! If you've got in no manner tried to have a exquisite nights sleep and just address sleep as "that issue you do each night" then pay attention up, that is what happens whilst you do now not sleep nicely! Accident Prone Believe it or no longer, lack of a very good nights sleep through the years can reason you to be twist of fate inclined than human beings that don't be afflicted by a few kind of insomnia. Living your existence in an exhausted kingdom can depart your mind in a kind of fog that prevents you from making clear decisions. You lack the functionality to concentrate in your every day activities as an awful lot as you may if you were nicely rested. Slower response instances to sudden conditions can motive you to be slower at appearing unexpected movements like transferring out of the manner, or perhaps worse, hitting the brakes on the same time as you are using. The quantity of vehicle injuries that may be blamed on insomnia or exceptional fatigue related problems is remarkable. It is envisioned that one in six car injuries are the direct end end result of fatigue or sleepiness. Looking to discover more consequences of insomnia on fitness and fitness? Keep studying! Illness People that lack the right quantity of sleep are liable to illness and continual diseases extra than ordinary sleepers. Sounds crazy proper? Let me offer an reason for this crazy phenomenon. When you sleep, you sleep in levels. Each degree leads up to the final degree of REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep. It takes approximately ninety mins or so to get to REM, however on this degree your body is repairing itself. Your thoughts makes use of this time to growth your white blood cell count number to assault overseas bacteria and viruses and repair damaged tissues while you sleep. Dreaming is notion to take what you have discovered seeing that your closing REM sleep and arrange what's useful and what is not. Scientists theorize that's what goes on and no person is aware of 100% what is surely occurring inside the route of this time. Research has proven that folks that do no longer get enough REM sleep lack the white blood cell growth at night time that fights off the lousy stuff to your frame. This can play havoc on your hormones and can cause chronic ailments if you want to simply make matters worse. Imagine having insomnia that makes the insomnia worse down the road. Take your nights sleep critically and you will be a more fit man or woman. Just a heads up, insomniacs display drastically better expenses of growing coronary heart illness. That proper nights sleep may additionally just maintain your existence. Lower Quality of Life I hold in mind seeing one studies have a study about the first rate of existence for insomniacs. We have already cited being coincidence prone and a higher hazard for continual ailments, however the exquisite or your each day lifestyles suffers as well. There are more side outcomes of insomnia we are able to speak approximately later, however the preferred extremely good of existence for insomniacs is wonderful than non-insomniacs. Regular sleepers awaken refreshed and additional lively at some stage in the day than their insomniac counterparts. Getting that heaps wanted prolonged sleep now not best recharges your batteries, however also permits to hold your interest centered at the duties at hand. Allowing you to paintings simpler and make higher choices in the course of your day. Another side effect is simply being normally sad. Nothing appears to make you happy and also you live your day in a grumpy reputation. Have your pals or co-people known as you out in this presently? You may be in want of a few a lot wanted sleep. Depression Since your wonderful of life suffers from insomnia, despair is a completely commonplace side impact as nicely. Being sleepy or tired all day, bad mindset, the incapacity to attention on a venture or sincerely usually sad approximately everything leads you proper into depression. An ongoing loss of an splendid nights sleep can impact your brain chemistry and depart you in a funk of depression until you discover a way out. Unfortunately, all of us desires to medicate their manner out of it. Try to make modifications on your each day everyday and notice if it's going to increase your nightly sleep for in keeping with week and notice the way you enjoy. There are also links to loss of REM sleep and despair. If you be afflicted by way of awful sleep styles which is probably inflicting insomnia, check out my different submit HERE on a few herbal remedies to cope with insomnia. You can also attempt THESE methods as properly to help get that proper nights sleep you deserve. Obesity A Study executed in 2013 has shown the hyperlink among sleep problems and weight issues. People that be afflicted by insomnia, or get much less than seven to 8 hours of sleep are much more likely to overeat. It is concept this overeating boosts your strength quickly, in desire to giving your frame the time to provide it simply. This leads to overeating. This is some other one of the outcomes of insomnia on fitness and your nicely being. Once this approach starts off evolved, your frame can start sending hormones that lead to you ingesting even more, in the end causing obesity. The hormone Cortisol is liable for inflicting this stress and makes you hungry. There is a high-quality deal of proof that advise that folks who do now not get seven to eight hours of sleep a night are much more likely to over consume. This can glaringly result in weight problems if the situation keeps. It appears that when you don’t get sufficient sleep, your hormones sign in your frame to consume greater. Cortisol is a strain hormone that motives starvation. Check out the Abstract from the 2012 examine for your self. Decreased sleep period and fine is associated with an boom in frame weight and adiposity. Insomnia, obstructive sleep apnea, and careworn legs syndrome are 3 of the most regularly occurring kinds of sleep problem that bring about an improved risk for several continual fitness situations. Various research have tested the effect of those sleep troubles on weight problems, and are an critical hyperlink in expertise the connection amongst sleep issues and persistent sickness. Physical interest and exercising are critical prognostic gear in weight troubles and persistent disorder, and several studies have explored the connection amongst obesity, sleep disorders, and exercise. As such, this evaluation will observe the connection amongst sleep disorders and weight troubles. In addition, how sleep disorders may also effect the exercise reaction and the manner exercising may additionally moreover effect affected individual consequences as regards to sleep problems can also be reviewed. If you are affected by a few kind of sleep disorder, it is time to begin searching for to make some modifications even as you may. Since we are all privy to the risks of weight problems, and deliberating what we apprehend of results of insomnia on fitness, you have to are looking for medical interest if this sounds together with you. Headaches On top of the whole thing else, the headaches are the on the spot mechanism on the way to interrupt your day. Not getting enough sleep on a everyday foundation will bring about slight to intense headaches at some point of the day. Bad headaches may be a problem at work or even dealing with children in case you are a stay at home mom. Sadly, with complications, the general public turn to remedy to address the headaches. This can purpose a dependency of ache control medicinal drugs and motive in addition problems that could create more limitations to a first rate nights sleep. Instead of treating the headache, why no longer cope with the supply as a substitute? Having an wonderful nights sleep can help prevent those complications and motive a wholesome day after. Knowing the effects of insomnia on health and your nicely being can dramatically reduce again those headaches. As a long term victim of cluster headaches myself, a super nights relaxation and a better weight-reduction plan has worked MIRACLES. In Conclusion Preventing your self from having an fantastic nights sleep on a ordinary foundation can create a very uncomfortable existence. For the ones tormented by insomnia, I desire this positioned up encourages you to are searching for a few assistance to conquer it. Understanding the results of insomnia on health and health is genuinely one step to increasing your satisfactory of lifestyles. Your frame wishes the sleep to satisfy the duties which you aren't privy to, which encompass tissue restore and different preventative preservation your frame wants to live on. If you suspect that you have insomnia, some people don’t even comprehend it, start through making some of the changes positioned in the internet web page to get an exquisite nights sleep. If the whole thing I supplied isn't always helping you get to sleep, please searching for out a doctor for help. Some humans have clinical conditions which have the early signs and symptoms and signs and symptoms of insomnia, at the same time as other continual sicknesses can prevent sleep all collectively. Sleep Happy! DAY 1 ➡️ Breathing exercises for sleep......close your eyes, inhale, hold for 3 to 5 seconds and then exhale. Repeat this between 5 to10 times. ➡️ Please ...

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[deimoslunaa]

barisi prompt #1

31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” (requested by anon and @me-ladie)

set post season 18.

“We broke up. It was for the best.”

That’s what Rafael said, when Liv first gave him a shocked look after Carisi yelled at him and stormed out of her office, stopping short of slamming her door out of pure respect.

“What happened?” Liv asked later, sipping on her glass of cabernet. She was using that voice. The one she used when talking to victim’s who didn’t wanna open up yet. Victim’s that she knew were going to put up a fight. Rafael didn’t point that out. He shrugged his shoulders and hoped he could pass as anything than how he was feeling. This was fucking him up inside.

“Nothing happened. We just weren’t right for each other. We’re okay.” he lied. Liv knew him enough to drop it, so she did.  

-

They weren’t okay.

Carisi wasn’t okay.

To the untrained eye, he looked like he was doing fine. Carisi’s attitude was lukewarm on his good days. He still joked with Fin and seemed to spend almost all of his downtime with Amanda. Rafael had seen them leave the station together more times than he could care to count. Not that he was counting.

It was when they’re forced to share a room together, that Carisi’s true emotions would show. He was always shit at hiding how he felt.

His whole demeanor would sour in an instant when Rafael walked into the room. His patience would cease to exist, like it was never there in the first place. It would be impressive, if it didn’t hurt so bad. If it didn’t make Rafael want to break something every time he witnessed it, knowing it was because of him.  

Carisi always chose to stand a good few feet away from him. His whole stance defensive; arms crossed over his chest, chin turned up in defiance, ready for a fight. Like he was trying to protect himself from him. Like Rafael wanted to hurt him.

And when they did have to speak, Carisi made sure to give minimal eye contact. His words curt, professional and impassive.

Rafael clocked the distance between them outside of the court house, “keeping Jesus between us?” He wanted it to come out as a joke, he even gave a smile to help but Carisi’s eyes narrowed. Viciously.

He scoffed and looked away, his lips pursed. “Everything’s still a joke to you isn’t it?”

It wasn’t a real question. When Rafael didn’t answer – couldn’t – Carisi slid his gaze back at him, a triumphant look in his eyes. “I thought so,” he said and brushed past him down the steps.

-

Something did happen.

They were right for each other.

-

They shouldn’t have been able to be right for each other. Rafael was high-maintenance, grumpy, rude to a fault, constantly stressed and pressured by his career and had the patience equivalent of a teaspoon.

Carisi – Sonny, was the complete opposite of that. He was earnest, polite, funny and so incredibly genuine and selfless it was hard to swallow. Hard to believe he was a real, breathing and functioning human being.  

But it didn’t matter. Because Sonny brought out the tenderness in Rafael; made him realize it was okay to work with his heart on his sleeve. That it wasn’t a weakness to care. And Rafael found that Sonny was a real asshole at times and that just because he preferred to look at the bright side, didn’t mean he was naïve of the darkness in the world. Far from it.

“I never thought I’d have this,” Sonny had said one night in bed. He loved being the little spoon. Rafael gripped his arms around his thin waist tight. He knew what he meant.

“Who would have thought,” Rafael mumbled, half asleep. “Two Catholic men living in sin.”

Sonny kicked him and laughed richly into his pillow. “Yeah, whatever. Cheapen the moment.”

I love you, Rafael had wanted to say. But he couldn’t.

And he couldn’t say it later, when it mattered the most. And it cost him everything.

-

“He’s dating you know,” Rollins says now.

Rafael stops writing and controls his face. His chest hurts. His heart’s stuck in his throat, strangling him. He drops his pen and looks at her. She doesn’t look very happy.

“As is his right,” Rafael says.

“You know, I really liked you.”

“Rollins, with all due respect – “

“Save it. Do you think I don’t know what this was all about? You really fucked him up Barba,” Rollins cuts in, walking closer to his desk.

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Oh, like you discuss it with him?”

“He doesn’t talk to me,” Rafael says, sounding petty to his own ears. “He doesn’t want – “ Me. Rafael takes a breath. She needs to leave. “He’s happier without me. Trust me. Now if that’s all –”

“Wow,” Amanda says, eyes wide with a cruel smirk on her face. “Wow. You don’t even believe the words coming out of your own mouth.”

-

Rafael’s on his fourth glass of scotch when there’s a knock on his door. He frowns from his place at the couch. He checks the screen of his phone. It’s 11:54 PM. And there are four unread texts from Sonny.  

He doesn’t read them. He scrambles to the door and throws it open.

Sonny stands – slouches – on the other side. He looks exhausted. His hair is floppy and in his eyes. He’s dressed in the same suit he was wearing earlier at work with his tie loosened. There’s a hickey on the side of his neck. He looks ravaged. Rafael feels his stomach sink at the sight of it.  Someone had their hands on him. Sonny let them.

But Sonny’s here. Sonny left them and his eyes are wide and so blue. He looks relieved, looking down at Rafael. “Raf,” he breathes. Rafael didn’t realize how badly he missed hearing that; his name coming out of Sonny’s mouth.

Rafael’s already letting him in before he knows what’s going on. Sonny’s running a hand through his hair, pacing a little.

“Sonny, what’re you doing here?” He thinks he knows the answer and he’s terrified. It’s taking a lot of inner strength to not reach out for him and calm him down. Quiet the war going on in his head.  

Sonny stops and turns around. He’s looking at him again and this time, he’s not shutting him out or pushing him away. He’s really looking at him.

“I’m fucking up here Raf. I can’t,” he stops and gives a helpless, hopeless smile. Like he’s ready to impale himself on his own sword, just to get the words out. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” He shrugs his shoulders, offering himself up.

“I’m sick of feeling sorry over that. I still want you Rafael. I want to make us work. Maybe that makes me pathetic, I don’t know –”

“Shut up,” Rafael blurts out. Sonny’s eyebrows furrow at the interruption but he breathes out a sigh of relief when Rafael walks up to him and cups the side of his face and kisses him. “I was wrong. I’m an idiot.”

Sonny smirks and god, Rafael missed it. He kisses him again, just because he can. “Yeah, you are.”

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean a word of it.”

Sonny’s face softens and he wraps his arms around Rafael’s waist. “I know you didn’t. That wasn’t the point, you know that.” Sonny whispers.

He does. “I love you. I love you.” He doesn’t want him to forget. He’s going to say it until Sonny gets sick of it. Once the words come out, they all do. All the things he’s wanted to say but kept close to his chest. It’s like a flood. “I want a future with you. I want everything with you.” We can do anything together.

Sonny beams, a look of awe in his eyes. The words enriching him, bringing him back to life. Sonny traces his bottom lip with his thumb. “Take me to bed. I’ve missed you.”

#promp fill #barisi #me-ladie #my fics #fanfiction #I WROTE THIS QUICK AND IT WAS WAY TOO LONG FOR A PROMPT FILL #SET POST SEASON 18

[writingorchaos]

Kaliana Questionnaire

Full name: Kaliana var Dalrun

Nicknames: Kali, Kalista

Planet: Valdor

Appearance

Sex: born without sex/gender, chose to be female

Height: 5′6 or 5′7

Weight: 125 lbs

Build: Toned muscles

Hair: Wavy, between mine and Angie’s. Deep brown, and very soft. Either half up half down or in a braid

Skin: Warm caramel, tanned but natural.

Eyes: Depending on mood/ location either deep blue, grey, or red. At first they are dull, but as she spends more time on earth they get a sparkle to them.

Hands: Smallish hands, short fingernails, slightly calloused knuckles but smooth palms

Feet: Large feet with callouses

Scars: when wings are in, two large scars where they should be

Clothes: [not sure yet]

Speech: [vocal tics/patterns]

Accent: [somewhere between american and alien]

Verbal Ticks: none

Language: Fluent in hundreds of languages, as she is royalty and may need to communicate with other planets. However, can only write in a few, mostly just talking and listening

Articulation: Physical descriptions are easy and she can visualize it, but other things are hard for her

Education: English is by no means her first or even second language, but she neither makes grammatical mistakes nor knows fancy words

Laughter: she rarely laughs, so at first it is harsh and barking but softens into a happier, more human laugh

Grump: Doesn’t talk much when grumpy, occasional sneer but mostly dark looks

Breathing: A lot of sharp (scared) inhales and the rare dismissive short exhale

Health

Diet: Enjoys meat, marshmallows, and peppers, but frequently forgets to eat as she doesn’t need to that much, causing some concern

Sleep: Doesn’t like sleeping and doesn’t need much of it (can function but is useful for rejuvenation) Also gets strange dreams along with nightmares once on earth

Exercise: Enjoys running and jumping, does parkour once she discovers it

Activity: Will work very hard sometimes, but for once doesn’t always have something to do

Cleanliness: Doesn’t sweat or produce oils but keeps clean of dirt

Odor: A combination of cinnamon and oranges, occasionally like blood too

Illness: Sometimes gets conduit sickness if too much energy is used (passes through her body)

Injuries: Shoulder and wing were badly injured a long time ago, but only causes pain under extreme (super strength/ intense maneuvers in air) circumstances

Personal

Introvert/Extrovert: [I don’t know, in between?]

Optimist/Pessimist: Somewhere between realist and pessimist

Gender: Female or somewhat neutral, was able to decide gender and choose anatomy

Sexuality: Biromantic/panromantic and asexual (sex repulsed)

Romantic: not very romantic, does not consider marriage but rather a long term relationship/partnership

Memory: can remember fighting and moments very well, but needs to write down her homework every time

Planning: Does not plan much, unless she is stressed about it

Pensive: Tries to avoid thinking about her home, but will go over fights and moments with her brother

Intuition: Can make good decisions under pressure, but panics if too much is placed on her

Goals: To bring back her brother and escape her planet, or shape it

Insecurities: Not familiar with the culture and doesn’t get references, is insecure whenever someone is amazed she doesn’t understand something

Anxiety: Interacting with large groups of humans or when someone is suspicious of her

Overwhelmed: Occasionally feels alone on this alien planet, or worries someone will find her

Self-Help: Wonders what her brother would do

Comforts: Night flying and listening to rain/thunder

Bad Habits: Scratching her arms or shoulders under extreme stress

Triggers: The sight or smell of blood, and images of war

The Past

Parents: Mostly did her own thing, never formed a close relationship, but parents are fiercely protective until they aren’t (see Tavir)

School: Did exceptionally well in training, but takes a while understanding school before she does well

Life Events: Brother’s death and coming to earth

Worst Day of Their Life: Tavir’s execution

Best Day of Their Life: Graduating training and going on a road (space) trip with Tavir

Lessons: Even if a creature seems inferior or an action seems meaningless, it isn’t usually true

Regrets: Not saving Tavir or joining him before he died

Relationships

Family: Blood is her parents, uncle, and brother. Considers her uncle, brother, and best friend to be her true family

Friendships: Has a few close friends and not many acquaintances

Friends in Need: Has no idea what to say, sometimes says something good by accident. Tends to just provide company and an ear.

Needing a Friend: Doesn’t go to friends when she needs to, but her friends notice on their own and try to help the best they can

Annoyances: Rarely gets angry but tries to reason with them, or just leaves

Adversaries: If someone immediately assumes they’re better than her it gets under her skin

Enemies: Murderers who kill for no reason, or humans who try to mess with her and/or her friend

Strangers: Avoids them and won’t strike up a conversation, but is polite if they do first

Fun Stuff: She takes her friend out flying or playing with her powers

Dating: Will go to a cafe or on a walk

Best Friend: Felix

Respect: Respects even those she dislikes on her planet but humans have to work a bit harder to earn her respect

Interactions

Mingling: Not awkward, just avoiding but when dragged into a conversation gains interest from others and makes friends

Comfort Levels: Always worried they will figure out who she is unless she knows the person

Physical: Avoids contact at first (flinches a bit) but gets used to it

Groups: Sometimes enjoys getting lost in a big group but prefers smaller ones

Openness: Takes a lot of trust to tell anyone anything, and even more to tell who she really is

Generosity: Gives away easily if she knows they are trustworthy

Jealousy: Does not get jealous unless her only good friend starts liking someone she doesn’t

Temper: Is quick to annoyance but slow to anger, and when someone pushes her that far has explosive rage

Empathy: Limited empathy, but tries her best and cares

Affection: Any intentional physical contact, like touching shoulders or bumping elbows

Distaste: Keeps a blank face but does not focus on them and lets her mind wander

Etiquette: Does her best to be polite but sometimes seems rude by accident

Responsibility: Admits mistakes easily and tries to fix them

Self Esteem: Is a rock against criticism, and knows it is usually wrong. Will sometimes retaliate against a particularly persistent human. If it hits home, she shuts down.

Confidence: Does not care what others think of her unless it is a few people

Honesty: Is brutally honest, both good and bad

Leader/Follower: Grew up forced to follow but trained to lead, and is more of a leader

Party Tricks: Uses telekinesis to entertain or gain favor

Praise: Accepts compliments and moves on

Failures: [who knows]

Criticism: Is annoyed when she has done something wrong but gets over it

Insults: Tends to respond aggressively or taking ammunition from their mind to retaliate

Embarrassment: Rarely gets embarrassed unless she didn’t know something part of earth’s culture and was called out on it

Attention Span: Can hyperfocus and multitask unless bored

Situations: Has little to no idea how to handle humans

Life

Duty: Will take over a role on the Council one day and rule her planet

Tech: Has no idea at first but becomes passable with technology

Politics: Has strong ideas and knows more than most (telepathy) but can’t vote (doesn’t legally exist) so goes to rallies or releases incriminating information

Combat Skills: Yes

Home: Is extremely messy but not dirty and knows where everything is

Daily Life: Is a bit overwhelmed at first but learns to manage earth

Independence: Once she understands how things work she can function, but also “what’s money”

Cooking: No. Bad idea. Lots of fire.

Building: An Ikea master

Cleaning: Has no dirt anywhere but stuff everywhere

Shopping: Doesn’t like clothes shopping but enjoys grocery shopping

Driving: It is so unlike flying and running that she doesn’t get it, but has great reflexes and can avoid almost any accident. Small cars are the worst, they are too constricting

Law: Shes broken a lot of laws but avoided the justice system. Even if she was on trial, there are a lot of mitigating circumstances and lessened culpability

Medical: Went to the doctor for vaccinations once, but was an odd experience for both and she never went back (no need)

Mental Illness: Generalized anxiety

Hobbies: Parkour, superheroing

#character #kaliana #incomplete