#all i wanted to do was find opossums from evening to morning but instead i was trying not to DIE

[eclaire-went-bam]

bro wtf i loaded rdr2 & while in big valley, got attacked by a cougar. fair, i was in cougar territory. killed it. started heading up to the nearby trapper to sell the hide & carcass. on the way there, got mauled by a grizzly bear.

thought that was weird, bcs i thought the bear only spawned if the cougar wasn't there. shrugged it off. killed it. started going to trapper again.

sold cougar, went back to bear to skin it, BUT ANOTHER BEAR SPAWNED IN THE SAME PLACE & MAULED ME. oh btw both times my bolt action turned into a varmint after it mauled me ??

anyways i sell them. leave. IMMEDIATELY WHEN I GET ON THE PATH A PACK OF WOLVES SURROUND ME and right before i fire my first bullet BOUNTY HUNTERS SPAWN & THEY HEAR. i run, shoot the wolves, the bounty hunters try killing me so i kill them — MORE SPAWN IN THE SAME AREA ? and in the middle of it, my horse just fucking Levitated Straight Into The Air & Died Mid-Air before we both fell

finish off the hunters & revive my horse

& IMMEDIATELY AFTER WHILE I'M SKINNING THE WOLVES MORE SPAWN ???????

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 8.1

they’d settled, four to a bed, Avery, Verona, and Snowdrop sleeping while Lucy sat

aww

“I’m doing rounds, checking on every room of students who haven’t woken up already and started breakfast,” he told her.

responsible of him! Already doing better than the previous two (I think they just sent apprentices around)

"I reached out to Alexander this morning and couldn’t find him. I don’t know how concerned you are about him, but you should know that we’re keeping a close eye out and I don’t think you should have any immediate worries.”

right, Ray doesn't know what happened to Alexander... I assume he'll figure out he died eventually, could be awkward if he pieces together who. Though I guess none of the girls actually killed Alexander, even indirectly, that was all John's decision. One of the benefits of asking instead of summoning

She’d thought panic might grip her, or she might say or do something weird, or flinch, her expression giving something away. Her expression didn’t change at all from its default, slightly-pissed-off frown. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly.

Useful, but I'm not thrilled with what it says about Lucy's familiarity with danger and trauma

“So we have that Alexander thing happening, I guess,” Verona said

...oh. Did Lucy not tell them? That... doesn't feel like a good precedent for sharing important information, but I get not wanting to talk about it yet (or being worried they'd give it away). I'm hoping this isn't Lucy wanting to not burden the other two with guilt/trauma, because that would be a hell of a lot to carry herself

She’d tell them after.  It was calculating and awful but them having no idea made selling their non-involvement easier.

ok. Still not happy about it, but I'm glad she's going to tell them and that this is mainly for practical reasons (or at least that is her justification)

It felt like nothing fit.  That everything was at odds.  The sexy music warring with a mental image that was almost fighting to stay in Lucy’s mind’s eye.  The school so tidy when it had so recently been at war.  The playful banter between the others, when students kept giving them sidelong glances.

I am very glad that Lucy is already in therapy

If it weren’t for the music, then Lucy might have snapped at the silence, and that fact surprised her.

side effect of her implement? Making her more sensitive to silence/noises?

I’ll tell you right now, this is between you three, your opossum, and me.

i love this line

“Your reaction tells me I’m not mistaken,” Raymond told them. “There’s a discrepancy in paperwork and funding, with a short note from Alexander saying to contact him if there are any questions.

hmmm. Was the loophole tied to the school as a whole, or specifically Alexander? I went back and looked at 3.2, and it looks like that was something Alexander said specifically about his desmesnes and intentions to become headmaster.

“For the three of you, twenty-one thousand dollars a term.”

... ok. That's a lot of money. But a quick google was showing me that $7,000 per term per student is actually about as cheap as private high schools in Canada get, especially when you consider it's a boarding school. I suppose three terms (counting the summer) instead of two brings the cost up a bit, but honestly still seems like a good deal.

“Wrong answers could be cause for expulsion right here and right now." [...] “But given the severity of an attack of this potential style and scale, I wouldn’t rule out torture either."

wow that escalated fast!

"I’ve looked in, and the man is as good as dead.” “Not what I aimed for,” Verona said. “What did you aim for?” “To ruin his day.” “You have thoroughly done that.  Yesterday, today, and every day for a long time.”

starting to agree with Jessica that Verona is kinda scary

Verona glanced at Avery, then Lucy. Said a lot, that it was in that order. It wasn’t that Lucy was insecure, really. But Avery offered a different sort of backup to what Lucy did and if Verona was looking for that, then Verona wasn’t doing all that hot. It was hard to tell sometimes, but things like this were clues.

1) I love this kind of analysis 2) Lucy is doing my liveblog for me

"I know that what Lawrence would have built here would have overridden the position of the four Judges.”

huh. That ties back into Kennet I guess. Should be a good rationalization to the Kennet Others for why the girls needed to get involved. I wonder... was this someone's goal? To derail Bristow? That seems a bit too much to have planned out. But it's a big coincidence if so.

Mr. Bristow seems to have timed what he did to take advantage of the fact that the four judges are currently three.

... or it could be the other way around. Events in Kennet prompted Bristow's coup. Explains why he pursued it so aggressively: he has to have known that seat couldn't stay empty for long

"I’d love to have an adult we can go to that isn’t, like, Brie or Zed.” “What a thing to think about, imagining that Brie and Zed are adults,” Raymond said, wistful, shaking his head a little. He removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

I'm with Raymond on this. How old are they anyways? Senior students don't have ages listed and I can't remember if it was mentioned or estimated elsewhere, but we know Nicolette is sixteen and Zed seems to be about the same age

“I believe you,” Raymond said.  “My concerns lie elsewhere.  Students described this Uncle Toad as very canny, and world-wise.  Your patrons seem to be evasive, hiding away from the world.  I don’t know what they’re plotting or doing, and my efforts to find out have been mostly stymied.”

On the one hand, I get why the Kennet Others are evasive, especially to practitioners. On the other, I agree with Raymond that there are wild red flags all over.

“I don’t think it’s that nefarious,” Avery said.  “Except for the murderers but we’re handling that.”

INCREDIBLY UNREASSURING

Is it at all possible that, even if you had no such intentions, you were led to come here to cause this kind of mayhem? Could that have been part of a scheme, plot, or plan, on the part of your patrons?”

same question I was asking a bit ago!

“A new headmaster will be installed in one to three weeks,” Raymond told them. “Either Maurice Crowe or Mr. Abraham Musser.

I'm voting for Maurice Crowe, on the basis that Luisa Crowe seemed more ethical than most practitioners in that flashback. Wonder if this is her brother or husband? I think a son would be too young.

“You have a bit of time. Not the whole summer, as you might have hoped, but some time,” Raymond told them.

well. I guess this is the answer for how to keep Verona from getting so wrapped up in the school that she doesn't go home :(

“Mend fences and build bridges."

networking time! Might be worthwhile to try and build on the connections with those they were allied with, but also to reach out to former opponents in a "no hard feelings" sort of way. Maybe start with Estrella, since they dealt with her before?

Also, maybe have Avery take point on this one.

“Yo,” he addressed the room in a deep voice.

vividly reminded of Helio from Dimension 20 Fantasy High

Her skin was the grey of storm clouds, she was bare chested, and her lips and nipples were silver.

wonder how Avery is dealing with this

“It’s easier than it once was.  To hear the older forces talk about it, it used to be lawless out there.  But you know how lawless things were, teacher.”

impressive that Durocher can call on gods for a lesson and casually question them

"If you have less awesome gods, they might give you something you didn’t ask for. Or they might get pissy,”

laid-back bro god is a very funny bit of characterization

Avery reached up, a bit shy, toward Lucy’s face.  Lucy crossed the last inch, pressing lip to fingertip.

... I'm not shipping any combinations within the Kennet Trio, but if I was

Yadira was injured, her wrist wrapped, and she was alone.  Kass was in the middle of the room.  Raquel had left when Musser had.  Nobody had walked over.  Yadira’s stance and expression might have scared off anyone willing.

good on Lucy for walking over. I wonder if this was an intent of the teachers? Have students volunteering to help each other. Though I imagine if Yadira had sat through watching everyone else get healed while she was alone, that would breed resentment

“You have no comprehension, do you?” Yadira asked, looking at Lucy.  She shook her head a bit. “Bristow?  The damage you three did?” Yadira asked.  Her expression changed three times, so fast Lucy could barely follow.  Bewilderment at Lucy’s reaction, then frustration, then anger.  “Get out of my fucking way.”

hmm. I'm starting to wonder if I have comprehension? Was it that their actions were too brutal, or too powerful, or targeted against too familiar a figure? Or I guess, for those who had sided with Bristow, this is a major blow to them and potentially to their families. So trying to push the past conflict aside might seem trivializing

They’d played games before, intimidating a bit, trying to look strong as a just-in-case.  They’d scared off the sorta-friendly types, like Yadira’s group.  Now they looked strong, and they had no friends.

:|

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Sometimes I’m reminded of the time I rescued a little Dekay’s brownsnake from fellow students outside the residence building back when I was in college. Because I still can’t believe it happened the way it did. I walked out of the building one morning to find some students standing in a circle and looking down toward the centre. I had enough experience from grade school to know it was an animal they had surrounded. Usual creature was a large brown moth that I would have to step in and rescue before someone decided to kill it. You don’t have much time. I don’t know what it is about people standing in a circle and surrounding a living thing, but someone will always try to kill it. Sure enough when I got into the circle, someone was poking the poor creature with a stick.

But it wasn’t a moth, it was as mentioned a Dekay’s brownsnake. They look like this:

(Note the skinny little tail)

And they are small even as adults, which I don’t even think this one was. Having a history of catching garter snakes and handling them (I always let them go after), I knelt, prepared to rescue this little thing. I knew it wasn’t a garter snake, but I also knew only one venomous snake lived in my area, and this for sure wasn’t it.

As I moved to touch it, a heavyset blond boy said, “Yo, that’s a rattlesnake! Those things are vicious!”

Keep in mind this was a college-aged individual, and do please refer to the above photo for reference and perhaps you can see why I wanted to turn around and say, “Are you fucking stupid?” What I said instead, very calmly, and barely turning my head in his direction, was, “It’s not a rattlesnake”.

You would think, perhaps, that this fellow might have taken a closer look and remembered why exactly rattlesnakes are rattlesnakes (or rattlers). But no. He asked quite beligerently, “How do you know?”

Sometimes I wish I had made them all feel as stupid as they were, by saying something like, “Does it look like it has a rattle? Have you ever seen a rattlesnake? Do you realize they’re called rattlesnakes because they have rattles at the end of their tails? Do you think everything vaguely serpentine is a rattlesnake because you like the way ‘rattlesnake’ sounds? Do you always assume you know something when you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about?” Instead I couldn’t even think to dignify such a stupid with an answer. I simply stared back at him blankly and blinked. I then turned back to the little serpent and slowly curled my hand around it, gently but firmly holding its head between my thumb and the second knuckle of my forefinger.

The boy said something disparaging about touching snakes being creepy and the circle broke up and left. I walked to the tall grass at the of a nearby wooded area and released the snake.

Some people get weird about snakes. And given that some can be quite dangerous, I can understand to a point. There are few sure fire ways beyond species identification of telling a venomous snake from a non-venomous one. Slit pupils do not always mean venomous and round pupils don’t always mean non-venomous. A thick body versus a slender body doesn’t work either, and nor does the shape of the head. Venomous snakes can be mistaken non-venomous ones and vice versa.

But for fuck’s sake, a rattle is pretty damn distinctive. A snake either has a rattle or it doesn’t. If it has one, it’s a rattlesnake/rattler and it’s venomous. If it doesn’t then it might still be venomous but it most certainly not a rattlesnake. I don’t understand how this entire circle of people thought a Dekay’s brownsnake (see above) was any variation of this: 

(Note the rattle)

I think about this sometimes because even a lot of potentially dangerous animals rarely attack unless provoked. Leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone. A lot of animals die unnecessarily because of this. What’s more, harmless animals who gained an evolutionary advantage by mimicking these dangerous animals, and even harmless animals who only somewhat superficially resemble dangerous animals to the untrained eye. Check out the fox snake which is often mistaken for the Massasauga rattler shown above:

(No rattle)

But the mistaken identity of that little Dekay’s brownsnake showed me it doesn’t even matter sometimes what it looks like. If a creature happens to be unlucky enough to belong to an animal group long-reviled by humans, why then every spider is a brown recluse or black widow, and every shark is a candidate for Jaws, and every cat will suck the breath from a baby (but especially black cats), and every flying hymenopteran is a hornet, and every brown flattish bug is a cockroach, every rat is out to bite you and transmit disease to you (and opossums are definitely giant rats!), all black birds are bad omens, all black and white smallish mammals are skunks and will spray if you look at them, all sharks want to eat you, and of course all snakes are rattlesnakes. If the shoe doesn’t fit, force it on.

[vex-bittys]

Imagine the Possum-bilities: An Underfell Story (part 1)

Note: This story is based on this artwork commissioned by @melodyrider.

Red went dumpster diving for leftovers, but instead he found a friend. Good thing his brother is so open-minded and accepting, otherwise things could go hilariously wrong!

Doom and Gloom

"WHAT," squawked Edge, jabbing one long phalanx at the narrow white face poking out of Red’s jacket, “IS THAT?” Unblinking beady black eyes met glowing red eyelights. A tiny pink nose, bristling with whiskers, twitched.

“it’s mine is what it is,” said Red with a cooler-than-thou attitude. The creature added a hiss of agreement. Red and his jacket passenger brushed past Edge and walked into the house. Doomfanger, Edge’s large white cat, eyed both of them skeptically from her palatial cat tree.

“YOU CAN’T BRING THAT THING INTO OUR HOUSE,” protested Edge. Ignoring him, Red bent down and unzipped his jacket. His passenger waddled out onto the floor, long hairless tail raised as if it owned the place. Doomfanger and Edge emitted nearly identical huffs of indignation.

“you have Doomfanger,” Red pointed out. “and now I have-” Red paused for only a fraction of second to contemplate “- Gloomfanger.” Gloomfanger chirped in a very un-gloomy manner, much to Red's delight. 

While his brother sputtered his outrage from the front door, Red crouched, fishing what had once been a piece of gourmet burger from Grillby's out of his pocket. Unlike a fine cheese or wine, the meat did not age well in its lint-lined improvised cellar.  Red tossed the morsel to Gloomfanger, who gobbled it down happily.

"SANS! SANS, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" Red was, in fact, far too fascinated by Gloomfanger's precious little hand paws to do anything more than half listen to his brother's tirade, but he could tell that proverbial steam must be shooting out of Edge's ear canals. "YOU CAN'T JUST BRING THAT… THAT THING INTO OUR HOUSE!"

In addition to the perceived ear steam, Red could hear his brother's characteristic foot stomping behind him. He ignored Edge’s antics, choosing to focus on Gloomfanger's needle-sharp teeth as the hairy creature open-mouth chewed more pocket offerings, and threw his answer over his shoulder in an officious voice. "he's an opossum, Boss. and his name's Gloomfanger."

“WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND SOMETHING LIKE THAT?” Edge gestured at Gloomfanger. The possum, not overly fond of the conversation’s tone or the wild gesturing, scurried under the couch to hide. Curious and equally done with the drama, Doomfanger followed.

“in the dumpster behind Grillby’s,” explained Red as if it should be obvious that one found pets by dumpster diving.

“WHY, EXACTLY, WERE YOU IN THE DUMPSTER BEHIND GRILLBY’S?”

“the second i walked in, Grillby was all like ‘pay your tab’ and ‘stop butt scooting across the floor’ like he owns the place.”

“HE DOES OWN THE PLACE.”

“yeah, well, he also throws out perfectly good leftovers as soon as monsters stop eating ‘em! i didn’t want to deal with Grillbs, so i headed out back for some chow. when i looked in the dumpster, i saw Gloomy laying on a plate of fries that were still warm! i thought he was dead, and he smelled terrible…”

“SO YOU DECIDED TO RESUSCITATE IT?” Edge interrupted incredulously. 

“what? no. i picked him up to move him so i could get the fries, and he resuscitated himself! he climbed right into my jacket and made himself at home, so i snagged the fries and we shared them.”

Edge just sighed, at a complete loss for words. His disgusting brother deserved an equally disreputable and unkempt pet to share his garbage-eating tendencies with. Gloomfanger would feel right at home in Red’s disaster of a bedroom. Speaking (or rather thinking) of Gloomfanger…

“where’d Gloomfanger go?”

“IS YOUR DISGUSTING TRASH BEAST UNDER THE SOFA WITH MY DARLING DOOMFANGER?”

Eyelights bulging, Edge leapt onto the coffee table, grabbed the couch with both hands and upturned it, flinging it into the back wall of their living room. Doomfanger and Gloomfanger blinked up at him, then Doomfanger resumed grooming the possum’s round, hairless ears and purring. The possum made a grumbling sound that resembled the purr in the same way that the possum itself resembled the primped and preened Doomfanger.

Edge narrowed his sockets at Gloomfanger. “I’M WATCHING YOU,” he warned, using two slender phalanges to point to his sockets then to Gloomfanger. Gloomfanger regarded him coolly and burped.

Snorting, Red started up the stairs to prepare a spot in his aforementioned disaster of a room for his new pet to sleep. He stopped halfway up to call for Gloomfanger. “my bro’s watchin’ you,” he reminded the possum in a stage whisper, “so don’t go knockin’ her up or anything.”

The garbage-gobbling pair darted the rest of the way up the stairs with Edge’s outraged screeches chasing behind them.

Red spent the next hour sifting through piles of unwashed clothing, sorting them into new configurations until he had some passably clean blankets, sheets, and a few towels crammed haphazardly into his closet as a private nesting place for Gloomfanger. Gloomy climbed onto the pile, stomped it down to a serviceable height, and chirped in satisfaction. Red watched proudly as the possum pulled itself into a possum-loaf shape- yet another rough-around-the-edges mimicry of one of Doomfanger’s common behaviors.

As he crawled into bed (a mattress on the floor with a nest similar to Gloomfanger’s strewn across it), Red smiled to himself. His brother had Doomfanger, and now he had a pet too. Red didn’t dislike the spoiled feline, but he sometimes resented her, which was much different than being jealous of her, at least in his mind. Before Doomy arrived on their doorstep in the middle of a blizzard one night, it had just been him and his bro, two skeleton brothers against the dangerous world.

From babybones to stripes, Red had been a protective older brother, making sure that Edge never lacked anything despite the struggles that they both faced. Edge grew into a powerful and capable adult monster, but he still leaned on his big brother when he needed someone to confide in. Red cherished his position in Edge’s life. Very few monsters in their universe could boast having any sort of close bond with another monster… and then the little white ball of fluff showed up like a snow poff sprung to life and changed things.

If he were being completely honest and not at all in denial, Red would admit that he now needed Edge much more than his brother needed him. Instead, he half-heartedly blamed Doomfanger for replacing him. Edge would stroke her silky fur whenever he felt upset or pressured by his position in the Royal Guard. Edge also gave her an abundance of his doting, doting that had once exclusively fallen onto Red. Red shared all of these hidden thoughts (and a few of his favorite jokes) with his new companion, Gloomfanger. 

Now Red wouldn’t rely on Edge as much, just the same way that Edge no longer relied on him. It served his brother right, in his opinion.

Meanwhile, Edge busied himself tidying up the living room. The coffee table drooped a bit, but the couch had survived its assault remarkably well. While her owner righted the furniture he had displaced, Doomfanger made an admirable bound back onto her cat tree throne to oversee the work from an appropriately lofty elevation.

Edge brushed himself off to remove the nonexistent dirt of a job well done and surveyed the living room. His eyelights came to rest on Doomfanger, and he found himself comparing her to Red’s unsightly new pet. Doomfanger oozed grace and majesty. The pure white feline was perfectly groomed, perfectly regal, and perfectly ferocious, just like a certain tall, dark, and handsome skeleton. Gloomfanger reeked, looked perpetually much worse for wear, and probably had no idea what the word grooming even meant. The gears in Edge’s mind turned, and a deep meaning floated around just past the reach of clear conscious thought.

Edge ignored the potential epiphany. He went into the kitchen and dug around under the sink until he found an old bowl of Doomfanger’s, a simple shiny metal dish that Edge had quickly replaced with something more elegant for his pampered cat. It would do nicely for what he had in mind though. 

Red stumbled tiredly into the kitchen the next morning, scratching his tailbone and squinting against the bright light. Gloomfanger waddled contentedly at his heels making a variety of grunting sounds that proved to be indiscernible from Red’s own. Red pulled up short when he saw the gleaming metal dish next to Doomfanger’s… full to the brim with the same expensive food that Edge gave his beloved pet. Gloomfanger bumped into the back of Red’s legs and gave an irritated squeak.

“what’s with the extra food there, Boss?” Edge ignored Red’s use of his babybones nickname, a name Red only used to annoy him or disguise those pesky affectionate emotions.

“IT’S NOTHING,” Edge snapped, using a very similar tactic to distract his brother from the act of kindness and acceptance. “I JUST DON’T WANT THAT DIRTY ANIMAL STEALING ANY OF DOOMFANGER’S FOOD IS ALL.”

“riiiiiiiight.”

Gloomfanger’s nose twitched, and the possum shuffled forward to investigate the gourmet chow. Doomfanger stepped up to her dish, and together, the two animals began to eat. Edge and Red both took seats at their kitchen table. Soon two creatures that embodied class sat side-by-side with two unsavory but lovable creatures to dine in companionable silence.

Instead of widening the rift between the skeleton brothers, Gloomfanger’s presence laid the foundation for a bridge to be built over it.

READ ON AO3

INDEX | NEXT

[badatusernames]

CHOJI, SHIKAMARU, LEE, GAARA & HINATA!! ITS A LOT IM SORRY

THANK U FOR THIS...admittedly some answers may be a lil short just so i can like. Get to them all.

EDIT: IDK WHY IT LOOKS LIKE THIS. IM SO TIRED. IM SORRY ITS JUST A LONGASS NARUTO POST ON YOUR DASH I TRIED MY FUCKIN BEST YALL

SEND ME A CHARACTER AND I’LL DO THIS;

Chouji (man i’ve seen it spelled both ways and i’m just used to typing Chouji at this point sorry)

Sexuality Headcanon: Pansexual!!  Gender Headcanon: Cis male A ship I have with said character: SHIKAMARU. SHIKAMARU. SHIKAMARU. SHIKAMARUUUU, my god...just, everything about their dynamic makes my heart melt, the way they’re both people who are easily dismissed by others and how they have such UNFALTERING FAITH in each other. chouji knows how much of a genius shikamaru is, knows very well the fact that despite his laziness, once he commits to something he’s in it for the LONG HAUL, the way shikamaru just believes so steadfastly in chouji, considering him stronger than NEJI FOR FUCKS SAKE...they like. get one another, the kind of relationship where you can be yakking away one minute and then just sitting in contented silence the next. they can just laze around. maybe play video games and snack. and sometimes...kiss. and it’s so chill even with that latent tenderness their later relationship develops and they both just feel so safe and KNOWN and familiar like. love your best friend. anyway everyone slept on shikacho and y’all should be ashamed the naruto fandom is enormous and finding pretty much ANY content for it is almost impossible aside from the small (if lovely and amazing) tag and i’m pretty hyperfixated on it if you couldn’t tell holy SHIT.  A BROTP I have with said character: i’m really not a fan of ino taking potshots at him for his weight and outright shaming him, but once she grows out of that i absolutely love their friendship. listen, you know that post thats like--hold on

thats just them, thanks. A NOTP I have with said character: i have nothing against karui but canon is fucking dead to me and my opinions on p much all the “endgame” ships range from utterly neutral to absolute loathing. their relationship is on neither end of the spectrum, but. eh. definitely not into it. A random headcanon: he keeps nursing injured animals back to health because he’s just that fucking sweet and bringing them back to his house to keep them warm and safe while they recover and his team knows vaguely about this and ino and shikamaru like to poke fun at him for it but since they don’t tend to encounter said animals, it’s not really a huge deal.

of course they stop by his house one day bc he hadn’t shown up for training which is annoying and frankly a little concerning and finding the house mostly empty ino just bursts on into chouji’s room only to immediately have the opossum he’s been caring for latch its little paws on her face and cling.

it’s a bad morning. General Opinion over said character: literally one of my absolute favorites of all time and it really breaks my heart how overlooked he is in the fandom (seriously y’all...). i think kishimoto is kind of a stupid hack and the Fat Jokes are really grating and it sucks to see that so intrinsically tied to his character (like. just let him be fat. jesus christ) but his kindness and overall relaxed, loyal and lovable nature has me just melting. i adore him. 

Shikamaru

Sexuality Headcanon: He’s gay, scoob. (I could also talk a lot about how his earlier misogyny is both a product of being a whiny tween and also some internalized frustration of like WHATS SO GREAT ABOUT GIRLS. UGH. I DONT. STOP TELLING ME IM GONNA FALL IN LOVE WITH ONE ONE DAY DAD JESUS. and let’s be real, thats frustrating, even if it aint an excuse)  Gender Headcanon: he uses he/him pronouns because it’s just what he’s used to and comfortable with but man gender is such a drag... A ship I have with said character: SEE ABOVE SHIKACHO RANT A BROTP I have with said character: naruto! he and naruto have a really adorable friendship and i love love LOVE that he and chouji were shown to be kind and accepting of him even when most people were shunning him. also he’s so fucking dumb i love seeing shikamaru meticulously plan out something only to have naruto shriek into battle and ruin all of it. love those guys. stupid bros.  A NOTP I have with said character: ok. im sorry i just. loathe sh*katema i really do. i haaaate the way kishimoto writes this whole “ew a GIRL” “ew a MAN” vibe with the like OOOH BUT THEYRE GONNA LIKE EACH OTHER vibe like. 

don’t get me wrong i adore them as friends, i think they’re fantastic scathing and witty pals who bitch about anything and everything including each other

but they’re also both gay and kishimoto can suck my nuts byeeee A random headcanon: sometimes pakkun just fucking Shows up and chills with him. shikamaru wants absolutely no part of this but is way too lazy to like. do anything about it so it’s just this guy and a dog sitting in a field chillin and occasionally him piping up like ‘hey kid. remember when i bit your hand? yeah? haha, man time sure does fly.” while shikamaru is just. go aWAY.   General Opinion over said character: if you told 9 year old me watching naruto for the first time my favs were gonna be a three way tie of lee, shikamaru and chouji i never would have fucking believed you but here we are. i love him. i absolutely love him. he’s such a whiny bastard and a really good depiction of burnout genius who doesnt want to do ANYTHING, but his intellect is an absolute DELIGHT to watch. i love him very much. 

Lee

Sexuality Headcanon: he’s pan!! this is a boy that crushes easily and crushes hard on just about anyone!!!! Gender Headcanon: cis male A ship I have with said character: ok i ship him a lot with neji actually? what with how neji grows during the course of the series to regard lee with the respect he deserves is really sweet and there’s just something so infinitely adorable about him going around being the hammiest, most ridiculously earnest, kind and enthusiastic person and neji, now that he isn’t constantly bitter and angry at the world can finally really see that? lee is always happily dropkicking his way into his life, like he wouldn’t have it any other way, and i think that’s just...so sweet A BROTP I have with said character: SAKURAAAAA. oh my GOD do i adore their relationship. ever since lee saved her and basically just gave her a glimpse of his...lee-ness, the fact her negative opinion of him IMMEDIATELY flipped and gave her such a strong admiration and fondness for him kills me DEAD. she always treats him with so much respect and the fact she’s quick to rag on anyone making fun of him melts my HEART!! and on lee’s side, his little crush on her is adorable of course, but the sheer strength of the friendship that comes from it is more than infatuation could ever offer him. i want them to hang out together and talk about their troubles...i want them to make each other laugh and be so very kind to each other...i want sakura to storm over and throw him over her shoulder to TAKE A BREAK ALREADY when he’s been training too hard for too long. god. A NOTP I have with said character: honestly i’m pretty happy with a lot of lee ships! the only ones i view with obvious disdain are the ones with creepy age gaps honestly. A random headcanon: out of everyone in the leaf genin, he’s probably the closest anyone’s ever come to someone who EVERYONE is at least distantly friendly towards. like god have you SEEN how warm and inviting and concerned he is the SECOND he sees that naruto is feeling down? i get the sense he’s immediately inclined to provide that kind of support to any of his comrades, even the ones that Resist it.

you think sasuke is the most popular among the leaf genin? puh-LEASE. everyone looks on rock lee with at least a LITTLE bit of warmth. thats just fact. General Opinion over said character: since my first viewing of naruto he has been my Absolute fav, and while chouji and shikamaru are veeery close to stealing that spot, one look at him and i feel he’s gonna be on top forever. probably the best written character kishimoto’s ever produced that’s remained in  the main cast (tho i dont speak for shipudden onwards who fucking knows, but the truth of it is is i adore rock lee)

Gaara

Sexuality Headcanon: Panromantic Asexual Gender Headcanon: kind of like shikamaru, i feel like he uses he/him pronouns but also doesn’t particularly....Care? A ship I have with said character: ok so it wasnt until my naruto rewatch that i really started falling into this but i think him and naruto are super cute? while i loathe kishimoto for ruining so much abt this show he really is good at creating good foils to naruto, and gaara is no exception--and the way naruto changes his life by just kicking his ass (and proving he’s not just a Simp or smth) and then just, extending genuine empathy and a REAL sense of truly relating to where he’s coming from re:his upbringing? the EFFECT it has on him, bro!!!! my god!!! i feel like they’re that opposites attract ship that don’t clash constantly but instead fall into this adorable synergy and understanding? and i think thats so sweet A BROTP I have with said character: ...is it cheating to just put temari and kankuro here? bc they are literally his siblings but my GOD do i love their relationship. there’s something so deeply sad about their initial situation??? like having siblings that either are deeply fucking afraid of you or clearly don’t care for your well being whatsoever, it’s such a tragic scenario, and the times where they really do show legitimate care for gaara just breaks my heart...but the GROWTH. THE DEVELOPMENT. THE HEALING. i love the sand siblings so much, i am a STRONG advocate of seeing the development from estranged family to loving, occasionally bickering siblings who absolutely Love Each Other A NOTP I have with said character: uhhhh same with lee in that i don’t really mind most of the ships i’ve seen him in? while i don’t particularly ship gaalee i think its also Very Cute, and really it all just seems pretty valid as long as people aren’t being creepy? A random headcanon: i’ve been wracking my brain for one for a good 20 minutes and i just don’t have one he’s such a mystery to me/????? i love him but he is an enigma?? General Opinion over said character: oh my god he’s such an edgelord in the beginning. i’ve been doing a lot of this naruto rewatch with my friend @drashseed (a simply phenomenal fella 10/10 follow him) and every single time he talked the only valid response just became “ok gaara”

but his backstory? utterly HEARTWRENCHING. and his growth is just. absolutely divine, i adore him. thank you mister sandman for doing so much for us all.

Hinata

Sexuality Headcanon: Bisexual Gender Headcanon: cis woman A ship I have with said character: listen. i think kibahina is........Really Really cute. he cares about her so MUCH??? and there’s a certain tenderness to his interactions with her that’s just really evident whenever you see em together? i really love that you get the sense hinata is COMFORTABLE around him!!! like! i feel like hinata really deserves to have a partner who sees her when she ISN’T blushing and stammering? when she’s like? legitimately comfortable and being HERSELF? (dgmw the blushing is adorable i fucking love her but its one of the gripes i have with naruhina that so much of it is just naruto being oblivious and her having a small panic attack) the comfort she and kiba have make for a chill, adorable relationship i just cry over constantly A BROTP I have with said character: so i was GONNA put naruto here, but technically i already put him there for shikamaru’s so i’m gonna say neji!!! uhhh OBVIOUSLY they got off to a. very rough start but the way their dynamic changed (or perhaps in a way reverted back to the times they interacted before neji’s father died and temporarily killed his Human Decency) into this respect and fondness that’s just...such a delight to watch? i’m a SUCKER for slow and mutual reconciliation and there are just so many sweet moments between them. they are FAMILY, BRO!!! THEY CARE FOR EACH OTHER, BRO!!!!!!!!!! A NOTP I have with said character: ...at the risk of sounding like a broken record, i think a lot of hinata ships are quite cute? i guess i’m gonna have to say sasuke. because like.

has. he ever even looked at her. please. jesus christ. she deserves so much better. A random headcanon: she is a LOT physically stronger than she looks!! a lot of her combat techniques rely on taijustu after all so it’d make sense that she puts a lot of effort into physical training alongside chakra control.

i’m trying to say she’s strong. not as strong as sakura but. she can lift her bf up over her head (he’s dying hes dying he’s dYING he lOVES HER SO MUCH). it’s pretty fuckign badass

General Opinion over said character: i LOVE her??? honest to god i really really do--honestly while i dislike the direction they went in canon with her, i really loved seeing her be motivated to grow and change the parts of herself she hated to become a stronger person.

that and she’s so fucking cute and sweet and i just??????? bless her honestly.

[weeklywritings36]

5/16/19

It’s hard to put into words how I have been feeling. But right now I’m pretty bored so why not write?

 I’ve found it enjoyable to write again lately after well… writing 8 essays can have that effect. There’s something magical about words and their power. Being able to express yourself. I will admit that this will be no where near as eloquent as my essays. My head is too much a mess for that to be possible. I do notice however that my level of language is improved. Feels kinda good I guess. Like I’m good for something. And I know that’s a thought fallacy. I’m good at a lot of things. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that. I get lost in all my pain and misery. It stings. As I’ve been told, there are multiple things I can do when I don’t feel well. And one of those things is stay miserable, which on occasion I am known to do. I kinda… well… I suck at that. As Eli said, I’m a goddamn rubber duck. The further you push me down the faster and harder I go shooting up. He’s right. I’m not good at staying down and out. I’m like Spiderman. I get up. Like Celeana. I get up. Like Steve Rogers. Life is relentless, but it hasn’t met me. I know it feels like the world is collapsing around you sometimes. But you are strong. I know when everything is falling apart you can’t see it. I know how much you care as much as you try and pretend that nothing matters. I know how hard it is to get out of bed every day and stare your demons in the face. But you do. And that means something. Raanan said lesser people would have died. And I don’t want to boost your ego that much and I know you can’t speak for humanity but he is probably right. The amount of pain you’ve dealt with these last 6 years is impressive. And you don’t hear it enough. I’m proud of you. You many not always deal with it in the most ideal way, but you do cope. People don’t need to understand for you to be valid. And even if they don’t understand, they care. You could list them. And we known that many of them would move on. It won’t shatter Melech’s world if he doesn’t get the MPs. And all people heal from things, but you would leave a void. You do matter Jenna. No matter how much it screams that you don’t. It’s okay to fall down. It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to be weak. Being weak does not mean you ARE weak. Crying isn’t pathetic. You are not pathetic. You are human. And as much as you hate that, it’s the reality. The standards you hold Nava to, Azer to, Raanan to – they apply to you. You aren’t excepted to be better. If you’d let them get away with it, then you need to let yourself get away with it. That isn’t the right language. If it is acceptable that they –

It is now a while later. I went to go pick up my car. It’s my car no matter how much dad says it’s not. I proved my point to him the other day. He would always say that Grammy pays the insurance so it is her car. So I asked who pays the insurance on mom’s car. He said him. I said isn’t it your car then? He says he gave it to her. I say so and gesture to mine. He doesn’t answer. I’d say I finally won that one. Anyway Noah drives. It’s nice. I open my window and the wind whips my hair as we drive down the highway. I realize why it’s more intense when my dad closes his window. They then ask me to close mine. So I do. I get in my car and put on my music. I wish I had an AUX cord so I could play my music as loudly as I want instead of being confined by my phone speaker’s max volume. I stop fully at the stop signs because dad had been saying that to Noah and I’m directly behind him so gotta be a good example yea? I stop fully at the next one, no car coming I go and as I’m going a car honks at me. Whoops… I didn’t see ya bud. Sorry about that. I get on the highway and I try not to go zooming past Noah. I go 60 and once I’m out of sight I’m up to 70 and hit 80 some of the time. The winds pushes my hair all around and sometimes in front of my face. If I had gotten pulled over it would be doubly awkward because A. I’m speeding 20 miles over the speed limit and I could loose my license of that and B. I can’t see because my hair is in my face. I’m pushing so many envelops that at some point something is going to catch up with me. The thing that had been at the bottom of my car flaps in the wind and freaks me out so I close the windows. One hand on the steering wheel I shove it under the seat and then I reopen the windows. I pushed my hair behind me several times, but it didn’t really have an effect. Oh also I ate four bowls of cereal this morning and I’m still not hungry even though its been 6 hours. Then again that does seem kind of normal. I feel weird for overeating that much. It tasted good and I was stressed but I was kind of disgusted with myself and like Jenna what the fuck are you doing. Anyway I get off the high way and I can hear my music again really well. I’m listening to Greek Tragedy by The Wombats. It was on the playlist that Azer made for me years ago. Jennacide. It’s on Spotify and I don’t know how old it is. Old is the answer. I remember listening to it while I was getting something done to the car. I had downloaded Spotify on my phone and I was like alright I’ll do this. I remember really liking the song but I didn’t think much of it. Here I am I’m unsure of how many years later but listening to the song on repeat. I’m even listening to it right now. The repeat is really smooth so you get the what’s new pussy cat vibe. Y’know? Like the is it a new song or is it just longer than you thought it was? I had finally braved a place where I would be around people but I had headphones on. Noah walked in and asked why the headphones. Why the music in here, gesturing to my headphones, and not out here, gesturing to the room. I tell him I don’t think he’d like it. He says he would so I unplug my headphones. He sits down with his English essay. I ask if he’s sure. He asks if it’s in English. I turn the volume up to show him it is. He says it’s fine then so I turn the volume back down. It’s at 16 right now. I find it funny at times like this that I ever have it all the way up at 100. Like how do I not find that unbearably loud when I’m known to listen to music at 2. And same with using my earbuds. I manually lower it to be right above the mute and it’s still so loud. And then I go and blow my volume limit. Dialectical I guess. I don’t understand humans so not understanding myself makes sense. I’ve been seeing Game of Thrones memes on tumblr. Sounds like they ruined Danyeisus’s character. I hadn’t watched since the first episode with Eli. He has. I have proof from him sending a meme. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t think about that much any more. Everyone said that time would help heal it and it has. Slowly but surely it stings a lot less. Back to my original story. I’m driving and I get to our block. And I see something in the street it looks like a turtle holy shit its an opossum and yike. I hit it and I’m so shook. I circle around the block and I don’t see it. I make a U-turn and I go back two blocks instead of one. I don’t see it but I do see Noah driving home so I’m going to get home after him, which probably will look a little weird. I get home, close windows, turn off car, walk onto the driveway where Noah is standing while Dad pulls the car in and I’m like I hit an opossum. And dad is like really? I was pretty shook to be honest. I just feel a lot of things right now but I’m out of words so I’m going to leave this here. I think writing might do me some good and I’d say I’d do it daily but last time I tried that it fell flat. I thing I will post this on my writing blog though.

So I’ll write something here for the sake of tumblr. Even though no one follows me because I don’t want people reading my mental health blog. Just keep holding on I guess.

~36

[moody-by-nature]

Rescue Me|Chapter Twelve

The sounds of their moans and heavy breathing filled the hotel room. Jared thrusted his still fully clothed body against Andrea, "Ah, J..." she moaned, and snapped her hips in rhythm. Jared slid his hand underneath her shirt, up to her left breast, nipping the skin on her neck between kisses.

Andrea hissed and bucked her hips against him in response. Jared's phone rang from across the room, going ignored. Andrea slipped her hands under Jared's shirt, roaming his back and dug her nails into his skin.

Immediately, his phone rang again and Andrea pushed him away. Her chest heaved as she spoke, "You should probably get that, it's important if they've called back that quick." Jared seized her lips once more, "You're more important than whoever that is." He replied.

Andrea smiled into his kiss, "That's sweet, but," Jared sighed, interrupting her, "The moment is over, huh?" He thrusted his hips into her once more, making her moan. "You don't play fair, J."  With another slow thrust, "You're the one stopping me." He said with a wink as he bit at her bottom lip.

Jared stopped his movement, but Andrea still felt his semi-hardness against her mound and it drove her insane. "I know, and I'm sorry." She sighed, Looking up at him as he hovered over her and placed her hands on his arms.

"Don't be sorry for stopping something you aren't ready for." Jared said, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on her lips. Andrea turned her head to kiss the red symbol on his right wrist before she playfully bit him.

He pulled himself away and swatted her lightly on her ass, "You're going to pay for that someday." He threatened lightly as he walked to his phone, "It was Shannon, I'm going to sit out on the balcony to call him back." Andrea nodded from her position on the bed, watching him perch himself on the side of the balcony. His face illuminated by his screen, "Hey, bro." was the last thing she heard before she drifted to sleep.

Jared returned inside to find a sleeping Andrea. Suddenly struck by an idea, he called down to the front desk asking for assistance with their bags. Once they are loaded into the back of the SUV, Jared returned to the room. He scooped her into his arms, and whispered into her ear. "I can't sleep, so I decided to drive some more. I have a surprise for you." He gently placed her in the back seat, on the pillow provided by the hotel staff and covered her with a blanket, kissing her temple before taking off.

They arrived in Joshua Tree, California, just before dawn on Christmas morning. Jared stopped at a quaint little Air BNB he was lucky to obtain last minute through a friend of his.

The early morning sunlight flowed through the curtains. Andrea cracked an eye open taking in her surroundings. She furrowed her eyebrow in confusion, 'there was a balcony there last night' she thought.

She turned onto her right side to find a Jared, still sound asleep. Lightly snoring, his lips parted slightly, long hair tousled around him. The memory of last night floated through her mind and she smiled. It was so sexy when he threw her against that wall, the way his hand felt on her throat. The way he felt against her. Her memory caused a small moan escape her lips, she ached to be closer to him.

With a shaky hand, she reached across and pushed Jared's hair from his eyes to get a better view of him and scooted closer. "Merry Christmas, beautiful." Jared croaked. Andrea jumped, not expecting him to speak. Eyes still closed, he let out a breathy laugh. Through a smile, she replied, "First of all, if you could actually see me, you'd realize I'm not beautiful. And you scared me! It's not nice to play opossum."

He pushed her over onto her back, halfway hovered over her, propped up on his elbow. "First of all, Andrea," he paused, raising an eyebrow, "when I tell you you're beautiful, I fucking mean it. Are we clear?" His tone serious.

Andrea gulped and nodded her head. "Answer me." He commanded. "Yes, Jared." She replied instantly, quickly raising her head to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you." Jared lowered his head and placed a kiss on Andrea's forehead and then on her lips.

Andrea cupped his face and smiled, "By the way, remind me once we start working to add 'successful kidnapper' to your CV!" Jared laid back down and laughed, "You were out cold. After I got off the phone with Shannon, I had the idea to bring you here. I always try to celebrate my birthday here if I can."

"Where exactly is here?" Andrea asked. She propped herself up on her elbows to get a look at the room. The first thing that caught her attention was the architecture of the room. Half dome shaped and stuccoed, the walls all white and hardwood floors. Around the room were various pots filled with succulents, a telescope that sat next to a cozy chair adjacent the window.

Andrea turned her head to Jared expectantly, "We're in Joshua Tree." Andrea squealed and jumped up onto her knees. She threw a leg over Jared and straddled him, "I've always wanted to come here!"

Jared's hands automatically moved to her hips, massaging her skin. Andrea leaned forward and pushed her lips to his, grabbing at his muscular shoulders. Jared pushed her away to arms length, "Andie, please don't take what I say next the wrong way, but we can't do this. You aren't ready for it." Andie pulled her arms from his grasp, "How do you know what I am and am not ready for? Do you read minds now, too?"

"It would be so much easier if I did. He mumbled, as Andie rolled off of him. "Come on, Andie, please. Let's go on an adventure, I'll take you climbing! We both need to clear our minds. It's taking a lot of energy to turn you down, trust me."

Andrea threw her arms up in surrender, "Fine! Let's go climb a fucking mountain." Andrea shouted sarcastically, making Jared chuckle. She cut her eyes and glared at him.

Jared gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger, "Look at me!" He commanded. She lifted her eyes to his, "Knock it off, Andrea. Lighten up a little or I'll bend you over my knee and spank your ass raw." Jared watched as Andrea squirmed slightly, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Good girl." He breathed, planting a kiss on her lips.

Thanks to Jared's teaching skills, Andrea's first attempt to climb was a success. A small, but challenging task as a beginner, she sat perched atop the cliff side and watched Jared make his last couple of moves to ascend to the top. He sat beside her and watched the sun fade away and the moon rise over the valley.

"What has been your favorite part of the trip so far?"

Jared smiled, "It's been a great week. Seeing where you grew up, meeting your family. Throwing you against that wall and kissing you."

"I told you I'm an orphan. That wasn't my family." Jared rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You look just like your dad. They're great. Embrace the crazy." He nudged her arm, "What's been your favorite part so far?

Andrea tapped her finger on her jaw and hummed, "First, I must say the fact that we have survived almost two thousand miles in a car together without strangling each other is wonderful. I think we really have a shot at working together."

"You ignored me for the first ten hours!"

"You almost kissed me and then apologized for it! That hurt my feelings, Jared! Then you throw me against the wall and kiss me like I've never been kissed. What happened right after that and again earlier today. You're giving me whiplash!

"I love sleeping with you. You know, I've not done that in years." Andie's face showed her confusion, so Jared continued, "Slept beside someone. They always left afterwards. I didn't want to have that kind of intimacy with any of them."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about by the way. You push and then pull. Back and forth. You drive me insane!"

She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. Jared remained silent. "I really like it too, by the way. Waking up snuggled into you doesn't suck."

"We have to figure this out, J. Before we start working together. Maybe we should end, whatever this is before it begins."

Jared adjusted his cap, turning it around backwards, before looking at her, "Is that what you want, Andrea?"

"What do you want?" Andrea asked, "I want you to answer my question."

Andrea bounced her knee against the rock nervously, "I want to be someone's best friend, the love of their life. The reason they stay faithful. Someone to fight and then make up with. Their everything. Someone that I can take care of and that will take care of me. Someone that will love me when I'm being a moody pain in the ass. A man that knows what I need even when I don't." Andrea sighed, "I'll probably die a virgin, I'm too fucking complicated."

Jared wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, "You are complicated, I'll give you that. Sassy, moody, and yeah, even a major pain in the ass more often than not. But I have enjoyed every minute of the days we've spent together thus far. As far as the other things you just said, you deserve each and every one of them.  When you find him, he will be the luckiest bastard in the entire world."

Andrea giggled and gave Jared a peck on the cheek. She cupped his face in her hands, gently scratching her fingers through his short beard watching him smile, "You deserve those things too, you know that, right Jared? Because sometimes you act like you don't."

"I'm starting to." He said, staring into her eyes, running his thumb down the side of her face and across her bottom lip.

Andie bit her lip and smiled, "Let's get off this rock before I fall to my death."

Jared stood and pulled Andie to her feet. "No worries, follow me." He led her across to the other side of the rock to a smooth trail. Andrea looked at Jared, "I'd hit you if my arms didn't hurt so bad. This was here and we climbed up instead of walking up?"

"Tell me you didn't enjoy challenging yourself." Jared laughed. "I hate you." Andie chuckled and took off down the trail.

Jared decided to celebrate his birthday in a low key fashion, so they stayed two more days. They hiked daily and spent their evenings relaxing in the hammock reading before heading back to LA.

It was New Year's Eve and Andrea was invited to a party being held for Jared's employees. She put on her favorite slinky red dress and headed off to Jared's.

It was just before nine when she arrived and let herself in. Shayla was the first familiar face she encountered, "Andrea! Wow, you look great, love that dress!"

"Thanks! It's old, but a favorite." The girls sat on the couch catching up on life. "Are you excited to get started working?"

"I really am! I have a lot to learn, but I love a challenge. Are you thirsty? I'm going to get a drink." Andrea stated.

"No, I'm good thanks, just had a glass of Jamie's punch, it's delicious!" Shayla replied. "Oh, punch sounds good! I'm going to get some. See you in a bit."

Four glasses of punch later, Andrea is dancing the night away with Jamie and Shayla when she noticed Jared watching from the corner. Andrea finished her punch and sashayed over to Jared.

She wrapped her arms around his wrists and pulled him into the hall. "Hello, handsome." Andrea purred, her lips centimeters from Jared's. She pushed a kiss on his lips, her tongue darted out, gliding along his lower lip before she bit down gently. "Hello, beautiful." Jared moaned, his hands instantly on her hips.

Andrea continued her sensual attack, nibbling along his jawline to his ear. Her tongue laved at the hollow of his neck before she moved to his clavicle and bit down. Jared hissed, then groaned when Andrea latched her mouth to his skin, distracting from the pain.

Desire flooded her veins, she wanted him, all of him. Dropping to her knees right there in the hallway, her face nuzzled into Jared's crotch. "You smell good" She muttered, her mouth sucking and kissing on him through his jeans. Jared panted, "Fuck, Andrea!" and pulled her by the nape of her neck. He crashed his lips to hers. "How much have you had to drink?"

"I haven't had any alcohol," she stated firmly, "just punch all night. It's so good!"

Jared instantly knew Andrea was wasted and picked her up over his shoulder. He carefully climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom. Laying her on the bed gently, he removed her shoes. Andrea spread her legs wide, her dress slid up her legs revealing her red thong. Jared bit his lip cursing internally as she moaned and touched herself. "Jared please, please make love to me."

He attempted to put her legs together, but she maneuvered quickly, catching him off guard, pulled him to her chest and wrapped her long legs around him. Andrea kissed him fervently, grinding her hips into his moaning his name.

"Mmm, J. I love your lips, they're so perfect. I bet they'd feel amazing on my pussy!" She giggled. Jared closed his eyes and groaned, getting lost in that thought and her for a moment before he snapped out of it. "Baby, stop! You're wasted. We can't do this as much as I fucking want to." He growled forcing himself off of her body.

Andrea started sobbing, "You don't want me, I knew it!" She yelled.

"Andrea, you couldn't be more wrong, I do want you. But I want you to be sober and realize what you're saying. It would be wrong to have you this way. You've had too much to drink, baby. Go to sleep, I'm right here." He settled back into bed beside her listening to the beat of the music downstairs as he watched her, "Hey, you just called me Baby." She smiled, drifting off to sleep.

Jared kissed her forehead, "Happy New Year, baby."

[sage-nebula]

VLD - Days Unlike Any Other

Notes: This morning I had a fic idea for Keith’s birthday, and so---since today is the day, and I didn’t want inspiration to leave me---I went ahead and wrote it up real quick. This spans from pre-canon all the way through to the present, so be warned that there are spoilers for season four in the last two sections. 

As an additional note, Ryuuga is what I named Keith’s father, and Mezri is what I named his mother. That will probably be obvious, but I figure it’d help to get it out of the way upfront. Additionally, I do headcanon Keith and Shiro as seven years apart (as per the guidebook), so Shiro is about 20/21 in that little friendsheith section.

Anyway, that’s enough of that. Here’s this.

(AO3 link.)

The problem with forging a birth certificate was you had to know what date to write down for the birthday.

Well, Ryuuga thought wearily, that probably wasn’t the only problem with forging a birth certificate. He pressed his palms into his eyes and tried to rub the sleep out of them so that the text on the (stolen) laptop screen on the motel table in front of him would look less blurry. When he blinked at it again and found that the light emanating from it was as harsh as it was before, he yanked the AC adaptor free from the port, and let the cord fall on the floor.

Keith’s bassinet was on the other side of the room, but his head turned at the sound. God, his hearing was sharp.

The problem, Ryuuga thought, was that he didn’t know exactly how old Keith was. He knew Keith was a baby. That was obvious enough---anyone could tell he was an infant. But how long had they spent in space after Keith was born? He remembered all the units for time he’d heard while they were up there---vargas this, and quintents that---but he didn’t know what they meant. He hadn’t ever figured out the conversion. Even when he and Mezri had tried to puzzle it out---

God. Mezri.

Ryuuga put his face in his hands again. He was so tired. It was only 9:30 at night, and he was so tired. He guessed there was a reason why there was a stereotype that new parents were always exhausted, but the truth was Keith didn’t cry that much. He cried sometimes---all babies did---but Keith was pretty quiet, at least as far as babies went. At least, Ryuuga thought he was. He’d never spent that much time around babies before, so he couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought that as easy as it was to look after Keith in some ways, it would’ve been easier if Mezri was around to help.

Ryuuga scrubbed his hands down his face, and turned his eyes to the ceiling. The stucco on the motel’s ceiling was patchy, and the paint was yellowed. He couldn’t see the stars, but Mezri probably could, wherever she was, provided she hadn’t gotten herself killed yet.

He heaved a sigh. After a moment, he pushed himself up from his chair to go to Keith’s bassinet, and with ease that came only from however-long of practice, he gently lifted his son into his arms, and took him back over to the little table with the laptop and chair.

“How old are you, boy?” Ryuuga asked. Keith, naturally, didn’t answer. Instead, his head supported by the crook of Ryuuga’s arm, Keith stared at Ryuuga with grey-purple eyes that looked far more piercing than any infant’s had a right to. Keith had inherited those eyes from Mezri, and Ryuuga held him a little bit closer.

No matter how close or how long Ryuuga held Keith, though, that wouldn’t solve the birth certificate problem. There was no telling exactly how old Keith was just by looking at him, much less how the day he was born in space translated to the Earth calendar. Ryuuga sighed again, and lightly touched Keith’s nose with one finger. Keith blinked the moment Ryuuga’s fingertip connected, yet just as swiftly swung one tiny hand up to grasp Ryuuga’s finger in a little fist. Ryuuga smiled.

“Can’t get one by you, can I?” he asked. “You’re a quick little guy. Gonna be sharp as a whip as you get older. God save me when you start walkin’.” Although, depending on when Keith reached his toddler years, maybe that would help Ryuuga figure out a more exact age for him.

Keith considered Ryuuga for a moment, and then he smiled back.

Ryuuga looked at the date displayed at the bottom right corner of the laptop screen. It was November 27th---few days past Thanksgiving. Ryuuga wasn’t sorry about missing Thanksgiving---it wasn’t like he had any relatives anymore to spend it with (besides Keith, anyhow, and Keith was too young to care)---but . . .

He glanced back down at his son, and then looked back at the birth certificate he was forging.

Keith was a few weeks old, at least. Maybe a month. He could pass as a month old, couldn’t he? It wasn’t that big of a difference. Didn’t need to be that exact. Aside from his and Ryuuga’s names, practically everything else on the birth certificate was a lie, anyway. Even if his birthday was just an educated guess, well . . . at least it was educated. It was better than what the government or any foster agency would give him, if they ever got a hold of him. (Which they wouldn’t. Over Ryuuga’s dead body, maybe, and if he had his way, not even then.)

Ryuuga shifted Keith in his arms to make it a little easier to use the laptop with his free hand. And then, after consulting the calendar built into the laptop’s time and date system, he typed October 23 on the birth certificate.

It was as good a date as any.

It didn’t rain on Keith’s tenth birthday.

It should have, he thought. It would have been more fitting. It would have been more fitting had it rained, had it stormed---if a hurricane somehow reached the Midwest and devastated the entire city, so he could make his escape while everyone was distracted with the relief efforts. But it didn’t rain; instead, it was unseasonably warm and sunny. Despite being so late in October, the only clouds in the sky were cirrus, and all Keith needed was a light jacket over his t-shirt to keep warm.

He hated it.

He shouldn’t have hated it. If anything, he hated that he hated it. His birthday had always been one of the best days of the year. There hadn’t been many bad days in the past nine years---weird days, sure, like the time he woke up to find an opossum sitting at the foot of his bed, staring at him, or the day when he and his dad’s truck broke down, and the only guy they could find to help them was an old man who was convinced they were his son and grandson and had returned home to help run the family’s pie business---but even so, his birthday had always stood out as one of the best.

When he had been really small, like around five or six or so, his dad used to start off every day by scooping Keith up onto his shoulders and spinning him around in a birthday helicopter ride. Once that was over (and even in years where that didn’t take place), Keith’s birthday breakfast was always a stack of chocolate chip pancakes nearly as big as him. After that, they would do whatever. His dad never made him go to school on his birthday. Instead, they’d usually go somewhere cool. Some years his dad took him to whatever local attraction happened to be in the area. Weird museums dedicated to the paranormal (but that were really filled with hoax things like “authentic photographs” of Bigfoot and Mothman), or supposedly haunted mansions. Other years they went to the movies, or to a dirt bike racing park, and it wasn’t like they never did these things on normal days---they did---but there was always something special about doing it on his birthday. On his birthday, they could do whatever Keith wanted, and his dad never said no. Keith’s birthday was his day, his dad always said. It was a day to celebrate the fact that Keith was there, alive on Earth. So whatever Keith wanted, he got, just on that day. If he wanted the world’s biggest sundae for dinner that night, he got it (and trust in the fact that Keith had cake and ice cream for dinner on his birthday every single year).

Keith topped off the candles of the tiny birthday cake he was doodling in the upper corner of his math notebook with little flames, and then scowled as he harshly scribbled over it.

This year was different.

It had been three months since his dad disappeared---three months since Keith waited, and waited, only for his dad to never come back to the motel room. And he was going to come back---Keith knew he was. He said he would be back, and Keith believed him. His dad had never let him down before. But no one had listened. The motel manager hadn’t listened when Keith told her that his dad would be back soon. The police hadn’t listened when they had dragged Keith out of there. They hadn’t listened when working with child protective services to set him up with a stupid foster family, and the foster adults (Keith refused to call them his parents) hadn’t listened when he told them he already had a dad, and they needed to send him back, or at least help him find out where his dad was. It was worse than just not listening; the foster woman had actually gotten angry with him for saying they weren’t his parents, and had said that they were his parents for as long as he lived in their house, so he needed to respect them.

Keith glared at his notebook, and dug his pencil deeper into the paper.

He’d respect them when they earned it.

That morning, he woke up to nothing aside from the sound of one of the other foster boys whining about having a stomachache so they wouldn’t send him to school. There wasn’t anything for breakfast aside from toast, but Keith didn’t want it anyway. He never ate breakfast anymore. No one said anything to him aside from the foster woman snapping at him that he needed to get in the car to go to school, like he didn’t already know that. He went to school every damn day, it wasn’t like he skipped. Not that he’d be missing much even if he did---not that missing one day of school was bad---but---

He pressed his pencil so hard into his notebook that the tip snapped, the lead skittering off the page and over the edge of his desk. He looked up, but his teacher was still droning on with her lesson, explaining how fractions worked with long division. No one else noticed, either. Keith stuffed his broken pencil into his desk (it wasn’t mechanical and he didn’t have a personal sharpener) and grabbed another from his backpack.

No one knew it was his birthday. Maybe the foster adults knew, he didn’t know, but it had been three months and they weren’t any fonder of him than he was of them. Even if they did know, probably they weren’t going to say anything. And that was fine. He’d rather they didn’t. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday with them. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday with anyone but his dad, and his dad wasn’t there, and probably he wouldn’t be there even when Keith got out of school. There would be no one waiting for Keith after school but the jerks from Ms. Patterson’s class (egged on by the same foster boy from Keith’s home who had broken Keith’s toy lightsaber) and the foster woman.

Keith rubbed the palm of his hand into his eye, swallowed hard, and drew the head of a T-rex before he scribbled that out, too.

It didn’t matter. It was stupid. It was just a stupid, normal day, like any other. It wasn’t anything special.

One of the foremost lessons at the Galaxy Garrison was emergency preparedness. Space explorers---and commanding officers in particular---needed to be able to think swiftly and accurately on their feet. Panic would help no one in the case of an oncoming comet, or an alien abduction. Keeping a level head and laser sharp focus was paramount. As the youngest captain the Garrison had ever produced (promoted straight out of graduation, previously unheard of), Shiro prided himself on his reflexes. He knew his focus was his gift. He was always 100% prepared for any situation life could possibly throw at him. He absolutely knew what he was doing, 100% of the time.

This was why, when Keith opened Shiro’s front door five minutes before he was scheduled to arrive, Shiro whipped toward the front door (and away from the banner he had just finished pinning to the wall) and yelled, “BIRTH!”

Most people would freeze upon having someone shout at them the second they walked in the door, but in the seven or so months Shiro had gotten to know Keith through the Garrison’s prospective cadets program, he had learned that Keith was not “most people.” Case in point, Shiro hadn’t even finished speaking before Keith took a step back, his weight on the ball of his right foot, both of his hands raised in a self-defense gesture. How a thirteen---fourteen, Shiro corrected himself---year-old had gotten so vigilant Shiro wasn’t sure, but it was one of the things that made the other officers at the Garrison so excited and especially determined to recruit Keith into preliminary training as quickly as they had.

As vigilant as Keith was, it also made him sharp. It took him only a second to realize that there was no threat, and as he lowered his hands and stood up straight again, he said, “What?”

“Happy birthday,” Shiro said, and he smiled as Keith’s eyes swept over the decorations in the living room (not that there were much, given that Shiro hadn’t had that much time to prepare, but there was at least a banner over the entryway leading into the dining area). “I know it’s a few days late, but I wanted to throw a little something together for you anyway.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Keith said. He finally stepped over the threshold and into the house, and without turning back he knocked the door shut behind him. That was a first, Shiro noted with a little smile; usually Keith always checked over his shoulder, as if cautious about being followed, before he shut and locked the door. “And you didn’t have to do anything at all.”

“I know,” Shiro said, “but I wanted to. Now come over here; I got you something.”

“What?” Keith said. The initial shock that had struck him when he had first encountered Shiro’s sudden greeting and had caught sight of the decorations had faded, but instead of following Shiro’s instruction to walk to the kitchen to get his birthday gift, he remained rooted to the spot, his eyes wide.

Shiro couldn’t help but smile; in honesty, it was almost hard not to laugh. “Come on,” he said, and he gestured for Keith to walk over to him. “I have something for you in the kitchen. You can leave your backpack by the couch.”

That seemed to enough to kick Keith’s head into gear. As instructed (and as always) he dropped his backpack on the floor by the couch on his way to the kitchen. The moment Shiro saw Keith was going to listen, he turned to cross the threshold into the kitchen himself, and picked up the neatly wrapped gift (courtesy of the woman at the bookstore---Shiro was no good when it came to wrapping presents himself, and never had been) he had waiting on the table. He turned back to see that Keith had already walked up to him, and with another smile, he held the box out for Keith to take.

“Here you go,” Shiro said. “Happy birthday.”

Keith’s brow knitted together over his eyes, a little frown tugging at his lips. By now, Shiro was pretty sure that expression on Keith’s face was one of confusion rather than displeasure. True to form, Keith gently took the present from Shiro’s hands, but he stared at it for a long moment instead of unwrapping it. Finally, he mumbled, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” Shiro repeated, “but I wanted to. Everyone deserves to get something for their birthday.”

Keith looked up at him, still frowning, and then asked, “When’s your birthday?”

“February. 29th. Leap Year, technically, but I celebrate on the 28th on off-years.” Shiro grinned. “Of course, if that doesn’t count, I guess it gives a whole new meaning to calling me the youngest captain the Garrison has ever seen, huh?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched. “Yeah. I’m sure you’re the first toddler they’ve ever had pass their flight simulator.”

“And proud of it,” Shiro said. Keith huffed a little laugh, definitely smiling now, and Shiro nodded toward him. “But go on, open it.”

Keith’s smile faded, but he nonetheless slipped his finger under one of the flaps on the wrapping paper. Any illusion that he was going to tear it neatly was gone in the next second as he used the opening he created to rip the paper off, and as it fell to the floor and he revealed the DVD box set collection within, his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.

“You like Star Wars, don’t you?” Shiro asked, and Keith tore his eyes away from the front of the box set to stare up at Shiro instead. “You made a reference during training a few weeks ago, when Iverson had the high ground over that cadet.”

“I . . . yeah,” Keith said, and he looked back down at the box set, turning it over in his hands so he could see all six DVD cases lined up neatly inside, before he looked back up at Shiro. “I do, but---Shiro, how much did this cost? It had to be expensive---”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a birthday present,” Shiro said, thankful now that he had the foresight to remove the price tag before he had the saleswoman wrap it. The last thing he wanted Keith to worry about on his birthday was money. “I know that the prospective cadet dorms don’t have TVs or DVD players, so you can keep it here to watch whenever you want. Actually, I figured we could have a marathon this weekend, starting now, if you wanted.”

The look on Keith’s face suggested that was exactly what he wanted to do, but also that he felt he shouldn’t. The conflict in him seemed to win out as he said, “I’m supposed to be studying---”

“We can study later. Your homework and training materials will still be there when we’re done,” Shiro said. “It’s your birthday---or at least, it was. You deserve to have a little break. As your mentor, I’ve decided and am saying that you’ve earned it.”

It took a second, but finally, Keith smiled again. “Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro smiled back, and clapped Keith on the shoulder. “Don’t mention it. Go put Episode I in the DVD player, and I’ll grab us some snacks.” For it was still too early for dinner, and the birthday cake, Shiro felt, was another surprise best saved for later.

Keith nodded, and turned to head back into the living room, but he took no more than two steps before he paused and said, “Hey---”

“What is it?”

Keith turned back, frowning once again as he asked, “Did you shout ‘birth’ at me when I first walked in the house?”

A hot flush spread across the back of Shiro’s neck, and he rubbed at it in an effort to make it go away. “Ah, uh---yeah. That was supposed to be ‘surprise’. You caught me off-guard.”

Keith stared at him for a second, as if unable to make sense of what Shiro had just said, before he asked, “How do you get ‘birth’ out of ‘surprise’?”

“I was thinking about your birthday and it just came out,” Shiro said. There was something about Keith’s expression, which looked somehow both deadpan and baffled, that made Shiro feel more than a little judged, as if Keith was suddenly second-guessing whether Shiro was a qualified mentor or not. Shiro huffed, and said, “Just go get the movie started, okay? Do you want a soda or Capri Sun?”

Keith shook his head, and started in toward the living room again, but as he did he called over his shoulder, “What flavors have you got?”

“Dr. Pepper and root beer for soda, and strawberry-kiwi for Capri Sun.”

“I’ll take a Dr. Pepper.”

As Keith prepared their movie in the living room, Shiro grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge for Keith, and a strawberry-kiwi Capri Sun pouch for himself. He still didn’t know what they were going to do for dinner---pizza, maybe, because pizza was always a safe bet---but as he gathered a selection of snacks from his kitchen cabinets, he figured that was all right. He had the cake, and Keith liked bingeing on snacks as much as Shiro himself did. Belated or not, as far as celebrating Keith’s birthday went, Shiro thought they were doing all right.

“. . . aaaand done!”

Pidge punctuated her words by punching one of the keys on her workstation. The moment she did, her screen was filled with raining numbers and words that scrolled too quickly for Allura to easily catch. It was an impressive enough sight, but even as Allura gathered around Pidge’s workstation with the others, she wasn’t entirely sure why they (or at the very least, Lance, Hunk, and Matt) all seemed so excited.

“In just a few seconds, the conversion process will be complete,” Pidge said. She sat back in her seat, her arms folded, a proud smile on her face. “Of course, I would have never been able to figure it out if it wasn’t for Matt supplying the algorithm---”

“Are you kidding? You’re the one who designed the code that allows the program to run in the first place,” Matt said. He leaned against the back of Pidge’s chair, but as he spoke, he reached over it to ruffle her hair. “My little sister, the genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know Pidge is the smartest girl in the known universe,” Lance said, and he waved one hand in the air. “But can we just---”

“Wow, thanks, Lance,” Pidge said, and it might have been Allura’s imagination, but she thought Pidge’s cheeks looked a little pink. Her nose crinkled when she smiled. “You really think that?”

“Think it? Uh, no. I know it. It’s pretty obvious by now. Everyone would agree with me,” Lance said. If anything, that only caused Pidge’s cheeks to darken, and Allura didn’t miss the way Matt’s eyes narrowed at Lance. “But that’s not the point right now. The point is I want to know what the date is.” Lance thumped his fists against the back of Pidge’s chair. “Tell us the date!”

“If it’s the date you want to know, why didn’t you just ask?” Coran said, and as all eyes turned to him, he threw his shoulders back and stroked his mustache. “Today’s date in this quadrant of our present galaxy is---”

“No, no, no! That’s not what we’re after,” Lance said, and he held up his hands in a clear ‘stop’ gesture.

“Yeah, uh, sorry, Coran, but the date in this part of the universe is not what we’re curious about,” Hunk said, smiling sheepishly.

“It isn’t?” Allura asked, and when Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all shook their heads, she asked, “Then what is?”

“Earth,” Pidge said simply. Her program gave a soft ding, and as one every person gathered around her workstation turned to look at the holographic screen. Pidge continued speaking, even as her eyes scanned the data. “We know how long we’ve been gone by Altean time, but that doesn’t give us a frame of reference for how much time has passed on Earth since we’ve been gone. So with Matt’s help, I created a conversion program that allows us to input the current date in this quadrant of the galaxy, and convert it to whatever date it is on Earth right now. It might not be exact, but it’ll be close enough.”

“I see,” Allura said slowly. “But I’m afraid I don’t . . .”

“What?” Matt asked.

“I’m unsure of how useful this information will be,” Allura said, and as Matt, Lance, Hunk, Shiro, Coran, and Pidge all turned to look at her, she smiled apologetically. “I’m sure it is very interesting, and you’ve certainly done a marvelous job creating this program. But our current battles are very far away from Earth. Even if we know what day it is there, I’m unsure how that will help us combat Zarkon’s forces.”

“This isn’t about Zarkon,” Pidge said. There was a tone in her voice Allura couldn’t easily identify; her expression was caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, so faint it was hard to tell which one it was. “It’s about our families.”

“Your families?”

“We’ve been gone a long time . . . we think,” Hunk said, and he cast his eyes to the floor. “And we left kinda suddenly, you know? We didn’t even get a chance to tell anyone goodbye.”

“Didn’t so much as give the Garrison a leave of absence demand, much less request,” Lance said. “And if we didn’t tell them that we were flying off into space in a giant, beautiful, amazing Blue Lion to fight in an intergalactic space war against the Galra Empire, there’s no way they could tell our families that’s what we did.”

“So we’re just kind of wondering how much time we’re going to have to apologize for,” Hunk said. “Because my mom? Is not going to be cool about this. Not even a little.”

“And my mom already thought Matt and my dad were dead,” Pidge said. “All this will have done is make her think she lost her daughter, too.”

“Mom’s tough, Pidge,” Matt said gently, and he placed his hand on Pidge’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She’ll understand---”

“When we come home, she will,” Pidge said, and she looked back at the data on her screen. Allura wasn’t sure if she truly saw it or not. “But until then, she doesn’t have any idea of what happened.”

“I see,” Allura said. She swallowed, then cleared her throat to try and get past the obstruction suddenly lodged in it. She had known that her---that her fellow Paladins had left lives on their own planet behind in order to defend the universe. She had known that, but somehow it hadn’t truly hit her before that moment just how much they must have left behind to help fight this war. She had always been grateful for their presences in her Castle and life, but in that moment she was suddenly struck by just how fortunate she was that they were the ones there when she woke from cryo-sleep. “Well then, by all means, please continue. What day is it on Earth?”

“Let’s see . . .” Pidge scrolled through the data, scrolling too quickly for anyone save her to keep up with, and finally settled on one piece, glowing green. “Looks like it’s October 23rd.”

“Is there a year?” Hunk asked, trepidation in his voice.

“And what month did we leave again? Was it May?” Lance asked, and then his eyes widened. “Wait, have I had a birthday?!”

“It’s Keith’s now,” Shiro said.

Just as they had before when Pidge’s program announced that it had finished its conversions, everyone present turned to look at Shiro, Pidge twisting around in her seat so she could look up at him properly. Shiro blinked, as if just now realizing that everyone had turned to him, but when he offered no further explanation, Coran said, “Sorry, Shiro, but could you repeat that, please?”

“It’s Keith’s birthday.” Shiro nodded back toward Pidge’s workstation, where the words October 23rdwere still present on the screen. “October 23rd. It’s his birthday.”

“Well, that’s . . . that’s wonderful!” Allura said, and she clapped her hands together. “We’ll have to do something to celebrate! We could have a party---something small, at least---”

“I could bake a cake,” Hunk said. “Hey, Shiro, do you know what kind of cake Keith likes? Does he like chocolate? Wait, does he even like cake?”

“Who doesn’t like cake?” Lance said, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Everyone likes cake. Even that mullethead has to like cake.”

“Some people don’t,” Hunk said. “My grandma refused to touch it.”

“Get out of here!”

“It’s true! She wouldn’t eat any dessert but cobbler. Said everything else tasted like soggy shoes. I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t have it.”

“What the heck, who compares cake to soggy shoes?!”

“My grandma!”

“I think Keith liked chocolate cake,” Shiro said, and he raised his voice a little to be heard as Lance opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal.

“Okay, good,” Hunk said. “Now, if I can just figure out where to get some chocolate . . .”

“Uh, guys?” Pidge said, and when she saw she had everyone’s attention, continued, “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourselves? Keith’s not here right now. He moved out. He’s with the Blade of Marmora now, remember?”

“Oh . . .” Allura’s shoulders slumped, and took her heart right along with them. “That’s right, he did. I . . . I got a little carried away. I apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Shiro said. “It can be easy to forget, especially when things crop up like this. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Allura tried to smile, but she didn’t have to see herself to know how weak it felt. No one was looking at each other now; Pidge had gone back to looking at her workstation, though she wasn’t scrolling through the data, and Matt was similarly pretending to examine the information on the screen. Hunk was awkwardly staring at his feet, and Lance was casting his eyes around the main room, as if trying to find something else to catch his attention. Shiro was looking across the room, out through the main observation window, and Coran was watching her.

And Keith . . .

Well, it was as Pidge had said. Keith wasn’t there.

But nothing would be accomplished by standing around, feeling despondent and awkward. Allura had always been averse to inaction; wallowing in her feelings had never changed anything, nor had it allowed them to lessen. She took a deep breath, forced her brightest smile, and said, “Well, even if he can’t attend a party, that doesn’t stop us from giving him birthday wishes, does it? Coran, could you please establish contact with the Blade of Marmora? If nothing else, I’m sure Keith would like to know he’s another decapheeb older.”

“Certainly, Princess! Just a tick,” Coran said, and he spun on the ball of his foot before he darted over to the communications control panel.

As Coran set about getting in contact with the Blade of Marmora (and as Hunk, Matt, Pidge, and Lance all relocated to standing in front of the primary communications screen), Shiro turned to Allura with a frown. “I’m not sure we should be contacting the Blades for something like this.”

“I agree that social calls aren’t generally what we want to use these communication lines for, but this is a special occasion,” Allura said. “I’m sure they’ll understand, particularly if we keep it brief. Besides, I . . .”

“What is it?”

Allura smiled, and shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s go join the others. Coran will make contact with the Blade of Marmora any tick now.”

The look Shiro gave her suggested that he wanted to press the issue. Ever since his return, he had seemed more reluctant to let things go. But Allura turned away before he had the chance, and strode over to join the others in front of the primary communications screen.

It wasn’t a big deal, really. If Shiro or anyone else really wanted to know, Allura would tell them. But it felt a little awkward to do so, as if she was sharing information that wasn’t hers to share. And she wasn’t---that wasn’t the case at all---but . . .

She laced her fingers together over her stomach as it gave an anxious little tumble.

If she closed her eyes now, she could remember clearly how taken aback Keith had looked in their travel pod when Allura told him that without him, they couldn’t form Voltron. If she closed her eyes now, she could remember clearly the downcast, dubious expression on Keith’s face when she told him that they could not go on without him, even though the Blade of Marmora could. If she closed her eyes now, she could remember clearly how Keith wouldn’t meet her eyes if she asked him if he was pulling away from them because he felt Shiro could take his place---could remember how his voice had cracked as he told them about the mission he had to leave on.

All things considered, Allura felt that it was . . . important that they wished Keith a happy birthday, that they told him they were thinking of him. It was the least they could do for now.

The communications screen flared to life, and while they were greeted by a dark hood and glowing mask at first, the hood was lowered and the mask fizzled out to reveal a dark purple face and glowing golden eyes. Allura’s heart, as it always did when she found herself staring into eyes like those, picked up its pace. She twisted her fingers more tightly together and did her best to ignore it.

“Paladins of Voltron,” the Marmorite on-screen said. His voice was neutral, as the Marmorites’ voices usually were. By now Allura could at least pick up distinctions in Kolivan’s tone, but the rest . . . she wished Kolivan had answered the call instead. “We weren’t expecting a communication today. Is something amiss?”

“No,” Allura said, and she took a step forward, forcing a little smile as she addressed him, “and we apologize for anything we may have interrupted. We were wondering---is Keith available?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Marmorite answered, and for the second time in less than half a varga, Allura’s heart sank. “He’s on a mission with Kolivan and a few others. We have no way of reaching him.”

“I see,” Allura said. She did her best to keep her voice as level as the Marmorite’s. “Do you know when he will be back?”

“Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing that now,” the Marmorite said.

Allura blinked. There was something about the way he said that---

“What do you mean, you have no way of knowing that now?” Shiro asked.

The Marmorite hesitated, but only for a tick. Then he said, “They were supposed to return two quintents ago. They haven’t, and signal interference around the mission site has blocked all forms of communication and contact. We have no way of knowing when---or if---they will return.”

Something akin to a flood of icy water rushed through Allura, and froze her to the spot.

“Wait---wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Hunk said, and he raised both hands in a gesture that would have looked placating were it not for the worried knit of his brow. “You’re not saying that---are you saying that---that they’re . . . that Keith is---that he could be---”

“Captured?” Pidge asked. Her tone suggested it wasn’t the first word that had come to mind.

The Marmorite’s expression did not change. His tone was perfectly even as he answered, “We have already begun preparations for the worst-case scenario. Rest assured that our contribution to the war will not be---”

“Where was the mission?” Allura demanded. Only now did the Marmorite blink, as if truly taken aback by her sudden interruption. “Send us their coordinates. We will take our Lions and assist them with Voltron---”

“No,” the Marmorite said.

Allura curled her fingers into fists by her sides. “Excuse me?”

“As secure as our communication channels may be, they are not foolproof,” the Marmorite said. “We have reason to believe that certain communication channels we use throughout the coalition may be compromised. We cannot risk relaying information that sensitive over these communication channels.”

“This is the first we’ve heard about potentially compromised communication channels,” Shiro said, his voice hard. “When were you going to share this information with us?”

“When it came up, as it has now,” the Marmorite said, his voice equally as hard.

“More importantly, what are you doing to ensure the safety of Keith, Kolivan, and the others?” Allura said. “You claim that you are unable to trust us with their coordinates---”

“That is not what I---”

“---yet you don’t seem to be doing anything to assist them with their mission. If something has gone wrong, then they need help. We will gladly provide that assistance if you will not.”

“It is not a matter of will, but a matter of practicality,” the Marmorite said. He was glaring at her now, and Allura returned his glare in kind. “The mission comes before the individual. Right now, the most important task we have is to carry on with the mission, and take the necessary measures to ensure the mission’s continued success even in the event Kolivan does not return.”

“And Keith?” Hunk asked. “What about him?”

The Marmorite turned his eyes to Hunk. “Keith was one of our youngest, rather than our leader, but the same holds true for him.”

“No,” Allura said. “Keith may have temporarily joined the Blade of Marmora, but he is still a Paladin of Voltron. He will always be one of us.”

“Yeah!” Lance said. “You can’t just stand there and expect us to accept that one of our guys is stranded off on some mission somewhere, captured or maybe even . . . even . . .” He swallowed and flailed a hand, delivering his point without saying a word.

But whether the Marmorite they were speaking with understood Lance’s point or not, he didn’t seem impressed. “Keith is one of ours. As a member of the Blade of Marmora, he understood the risks he was taking when he agreed to this mission. He understood that the mission comes before the individual. He understood that there are things worth dying for. He would not want us---any of us---to jeopardize the universe’s freedom on a rescue mission for him which may be in vain from the start.”

“. . . That’s true,” Allura bit out, and she turned her glare to the floor. She couldn’t stand to look at the Marmorite any longer. “But---!”

“I apologize,” the Marmorite said suddenly, “but I am afraid I have other duties to return to. If Kolivan or Keith return, I will be sure to have them contact you.”

“We understand,” Shiro said, before Allura had a chance to reply. “Thank you.”

The Marmorite nodded, and then the communication screen went blank.

Silence reigned in the main room. Allura’s voice felt stuck in her throat. She thought that she should have been the one to say something---that, as before, she should have been the one to nudge the others into action. But all she could hear in her own head was the Marmorites’ voice, saying that Keith was due back to quintents ago . . . that there was no way to contact him . . . that they were already making preparations in case Kolivan didn’t return, and that if Kolivan had perished, then it was likely that Keith . . .

“We should prepare for our next patrols,” Shiro said, and Allura looked up as his voice broke through the static in her head. “Coran, can you plot a course through the east quadrant? I want to make sure the medical supply ships in that area make it to the next base.”

“I---yes, of course,” Coran said. He gave his head a little shake and looked back at the keyboard, as Matt frowned at Shiro.

“Is this really okay?” Matt asked. “Are you really okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” Shiro asked.

“With just . . . leaving things like this.” Matt gestured back up at the dark communication screen. “Keith’s . . . gone somewhere. He could be captured, or worse. Are you really okay with just . . . leaving him?”

Shiro stared at Matt for a long tick, and then he said, “I would like to go after him as much as anyone else here, but we have no coordinates and no leads. Instead of spinning our wheels searching the galaxy with nothing to go on, our time would be better spent doing what needs to be done to free the universe from Galra control. Keith would feel the same way.”

Matt pressed his lips together, yet turned away without further argument. Pidge exchanged a look with Lance that Allura couldn’t read; her eyes were narrowed, even as Lance shook his head and shrugged. Hunk walked over to Coran, and asked him in a quiet voice if he needed help.

Part of Allura wanted to agree with Shiro. As uncomfortable as the idea was, the mission did come first. In her own words, the mission was greater than any one individual, no matter how irreplaceable. They all knew that. Keith in particular had always been on the same page as Allura herself when it came to this.

But she remembered all the days and nights that Keith had spent searching for Shiro after his disappearance. She remembered how Keith ran himself ragged between searching for Shiro, and still trying to accomplish his duties as a Paladin of Voltron. She remembered how, even after he accepted that he would need to pilot the Black Lion, that he kept a radar running, searching for even the faintest ping of Shiro’s whereabouts. Even though Keith had accepted that the mission had to continue, he still hadn’t given up. He had refused to, and as said as much, because he knew that Shiro would never give up on him.

Allura watched as Shiro crossed the room to stand by Coran and Hunk, looking over the map that Coran had brought up on the screen.

Shiro’s logic was sound. There was no doubt about that. His logic was perfectly sound. But all the same, something about this . . .

Something about this didn’t feel right.

One and a half vargas after they returned from their mission, Kolivan called for Keith to meet him at the observation deck.

The mission had been a disaster. It was yet another trap---another ambush. If Kolivan had suspected that their communication channels were compromised somehow before, he was certain of it now. Somehow, they were either being fed false info, or their plans were being leaked to the Empire. Where the leak was, Kolivan was not certain; all he knew was that it had to be patched, and quickly. This past mission had cost them three more lives, and Keith’s had nearly been among them. That he had survived at all was nothing short of a miracle; Kolivan could not think of another Marmorite who would be small enough to hide in the engine compartment of an abandoned ship for two quintents, and there were few Kolivan could think of who would have the fortitude to even if they were small enough. Yet Keith had managed---his determination to survive had won out---and for that, he was able to return safely once Kolivan cleared a path to get him out. Not that Kolivan should have, per se—the war was greater than any one individual, and remaining behind for Keith had put Kolivan's own life at risk, meaning that the Blade (and resistance) could have lost them both—but much as Regris had in an earlier mission, Keith had intel on him that would have been foolish to leave behind. Trap or not, the mission hadn’t been a total failure. Kolivan made sure Keith had the intel when he was rescued. No protocol was broken when it came to getting Keith out of that engine room, and Kolivan made sure Keith knew it.

If Kolivan was honest with himself, it was not the only reason he had waited for Keith. But Keith didn’t need to know that.

When they finally made it back to their base, they did so with the sort of bone-deep exhaustion that rivaled the sheer force of a black hole. Upon arrival, Keith gruffly dismissed himself to his own quarters before Kolivan had a chance to say much of anything to him. Likewise, though Garus called out to him, Keith didn’t so much as twitch to indicate that he heard. In absence of Keith’s attention, Garus had told Kolivan instead that the Paladins of Voltron had called to speak to Keith two quintents ago, and that they wanted to speak to either Keith or Kolivan himself as soon as possible.

“Understood,” Kolivan said. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” Garus said, inclining his head.

“One more thing,” Kolivan said, and when Garus raised his eyebrows to show Kolivan had his attention, he said, “After Keith showers, make sure he eats and drinks something. He has gone a few days without food and water. Then ask him to meet me on the observation deck.”

Garus smiled. “Understood.”

With Garus tending to Keith (who Kolivan knew was going to protest eating and drinking instead of sleeping, but of all the Marmorites, Kolivan knew Garus to be one of the most insistent when it came to nurturing, and the news that Keith had gone for days without food and water would make him not back down from following through on Kolivan’s request), Kolivan returned to his quarters. He needed to call the Paladins of Voltron, given the message that Garus had relayed to him, and he would. The alliance the Blade had formed with Voltron was an important one, and not one that Kolivan was willing to lose. But calling the Paladins was not mission critical. They could wait, at least for another few vargas. Keith---and the photograph that Kolivan retrieved from his quarters to show Keith---came first.

That was how Kolivan came to be on the observation deck as Keith walked up to join him one and a half vargas later. In the light from the stars outside their one-way window, Keith looked more exhausted than ever. Though he had showered, and thus his hair had regained its usual fluff, there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his face looked worn. There was a tension in his stride that came only with having gone without sleep for so long that he was putting extra effort into appearing alert. When he spoke, his voice rasped, and though the rasp was a little better now than it had been two vargas ago (no doubt due to the water Garus made Keith drink), it was still rough with exhaustion.

“You wanted to see me, Kolivan?”

“Yes.” Kolivan patted the floor next to him. “Please take a seat.”

Wordlessly, Keith followed Kolivan’s instruction, and while Kolivan thought that Keith was probably attempting to be graceful, he dropped to the deck with more heaviness than grace could sustain. Nonetheless, he crossed his legs sat down, and placed his hands in his lap. Once he was situated, Kolivan held the photograph out to him, and Keith took it from him with a surprisingly gentle grip.

Keith stared at the photograph in silence for a moment before he said, “She’s pretty. Who is she?”

“Her name was Mezri,” Kolivan said. Keith didn’t remove his eyes from the photograph. “She was a friend of mine in childhood. We knew each other for many years, and joined the Blade of Marmora together.” Kolivan let this information sink in for a tick before he said, “She was also your mother.”

Keith looked up so fast Kolivan heard his neck pop. “What?”

“She---Mezri---was your mother,” Kolivan repeated. Keith’s eyes were wide, and the hand that held the photograph was trembling now. When he looked back at the picture in his hands, all traces of fatigue were gone from his expression; his eyes (so much like Mezri’s) raked over every inch of the photograph. “You were born in the infirmary of one of our bases. Not this one; one much farther away from here.”

“I---wait.” Keith looked up again, his brow knitted together. “I wasn’t born on Earth?”

“No,” Kolivan said. “You were sent to Earth with your human father roughly thirty quintents after you were born. Mezri was concerned for your safety. She thought you would not survive the war if you remained here with her.”

Keith looked at Mezri’s photo again, staring with an intensity that suggested he was trying to burn her image into his brain. Finally, he asked, “How long have you known? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He turned his eyes on Kolivan again; they were burning. “I asked you when we first met. I asked you how and why I had that knife, and you---”

“I wasn’t certain then,” Kolivan said, and Keith closed his mouth. “I suspected. I couldn’t think of another possible answer for why a human would have one of our knives. But suspicion alone does not warrant trust. I could only reveal the truth to you if you revealed yourself to be her son. By the end of the Trial, you did.”

“I almost died.”

“And yet, you didn’t,” Kolivan said. “Despite the impossible odds, you persisted, and you survived. You have Mezri’s tenacity. I had confidence that if you were her son, you would survive the Trials as she had. You answered my confidence proudly.”

Keith looked back at the photograph. “Her tenacity, huh,” he said. “She was tenacious . . .”

A few ticks slipped by, quiet and contemplative, before Keith looked to Kolivan again. “Then why are you telling me now?” he asked. “Even if you didn’t tell me before the Trials, you could have told me any time after. Why not?”

“There wasn’t very much opportunity,” Kolivan said. “Between the battle against Zarkon fought shortly after our alliance, as well as Shiro’s disappearance, and everything that came after while you fought as a Paladin of Voltron, no opportunity presented itself. And after you joined us . . . I felt that it would be better to wait until---until ideally a few quintents ago, but better belated than never.”

“Belated?” Keith furrowed his brow. “Why a few quintents ago?”

Kolivan smiled. “I thought that the answers to your questions about your heritage---and that a photograph of, and information about, your mother---would make for fitting birthday gifts.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “Birthday?”

“Nineteen decapheebs and about four or five quintents ago, you were born in the infirmary wing of one of our bases,” Kolivan said. Keith was staring at him, his eyes the size of wormholes, and just as bright. “You were small enough so that I could hold you with one hand, and completely pink. Your mother thought you were the most beautiful sight she had ever laid eyes on.”

“What . . . was she like?” Keith asked. His voice still had a rasp, but it was different now. No longer exhausted, but . . . awestruck. “What was my mom like?”

“Tenacious, as I said, though stubborn to a fault may be a better way to put it. Obstinate. Bull-headed. Passionate about her beliefs and willing to argue herself hoarse with anyone who disagreed. Rather,” he said, affecting a stern tone as he inclined his head to look severely at Keith, “like a certain someone else I know.”

Keith’s lips twitched, but he fought a smile Kolivan knew was there as he ducked his head and said, too casually to be believable, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Kolivan smiled. “She was brave. Valiant. Curious, too, also to a fault. It was a combination of all those things that landed her on Earth in the first place . . .”

(Ko-Fi)

[hillbillyisms-blog]

To a Better World

Notes: I originally posted this with the whole link thingie, but Archive of Our Own apparently uploaded my fic twice, and I ended up using the link I originally deleted because one had kudos and the other one didn’t and so it ended up redirecting to the deleted fic (so obviously not getting to the fic itself) and arrrgh.. Anyway, I was originally planning for this to be an extra-long oneshot, but then it got real long, and I realized I’m probably gonna need to turn it into a multi-chaptered fanfiction. Considering this first chapter took me about a month, it might take me about a month for the next chapter, too. I’ll try to get it out sooner, but I can’t make guarantees.

Anyway link here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10248044

Summary:  Fiddleford McGucket has only ever wanted to make the world a better place. Seeming to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, he comes to a decision that changes his fate, the fate of his closest friend, and the fate of the world as he knows it. But as the world changes for the better, he can't help but wonder if he has made the right choice.

Fiddleford arrived at the diner much earlier than the agreed upon time because he felt he needed the extra time to prepare for his talk with Stanford. He took his seat at a booth; his knee was already beginning to bounce, and he had to force himself to take his hand out of his hair twice before the waitress showed up.

“Hey, you. Long time no see. Fiddle, right?” The waitress had a wide smile and wore cat earrings, but she didn't seem all that familiar to him.

Fiddleford's brow furrowed. Had he been here before? He shot the waitress a small, nervous smile. “Fiddleford,” he corrected. “Nice to, uh, see ya again?”

“Oh, that's right! Fiddleford! So, what can I get you today? Our special today is the Everything Soup. It's got everything in it, including some stuff we found in the kitchen sink this morning-”

Although the Everything Soup sounded pretty good to him, it would've been rude to start eating dinner without Stanford, and he wasn't all that hungry at the moment, anyway. He shook his head. “No, thank ya kindly. Just some coffee for right now would be fine.”

“You got it! I'll get you a cup in a minute, and you let me know if you need anything else.” The waitress sauntered away, presumably to pour him some coffee.

Fiddleford sighed and put his hands through his hair again. Tomorrow, they were going to test the portal. If he was going to put a stop to it, he had to try and get through to Stanford. It wasn't as if he hadn't been trying, but now, he only had a last ditch effort to rely on. The thesis paper tucked away in his jacket felt heavy. His shoulders felt heavy, too, as if the fate of the world rested on them.

He pulled a napkin from the napkin holder and pulled a pen from his pocket. He started to sketch a diagram, the very same one that he had drawn in his room.

Probability of Failure.

If his calculations were correct, then the fate of the world might very well rely on his ability to sway his closest and dearest friend not to go through with the test. He must have rehearsed the conversation a thousand times in his head. He had to be convincing. He just had to be...

His knee continued to bounce. But what if he wasn't? What then? It wasn't as if there was any way he could stop Stanford from testing the portal. Even if he quit right then and there, Stanford was smart enough to be able to start it up all on his own.

His thoughts turned toward the memory-erasing gun he had built. Perhaps he COULD stop Stanford. Fiddleford felt his stomach sink for a moment at the thought. He wasn't sure if he could do that. Sure, he had erased Stanford's memory before on a few separate occasions, but it was to keep him from interfering with his use of the memory-erasing gun. Stanford had brought up good points about how dangerous it could be if it fell in the wrong hands, but Fiddleford was using it to help other people with their bad memories and to keep the portal a secret. And probably help himself with any bad memories, too. He was using it for good reasons, and it wasn't his fault that Stanford couldn't see that.

The thought of using it to actively manipulate Stanford into doing what he wanted, though, that was much harder to rationalize. Even if it was for the greater good, completely overriding or even just outright erasing someone's free will... and not just someone, but his closest friend... could he really do that? Could he really call himself Stanford's friend if he did such a thing to him? Not to mention, it might not be one of those things he could just forget about afterwards. Stanford had to have come to the conclusion about building the portal somehow. What's to say even after his memory was erased that he wouldn't come to the same conclusion later? If Fiddleford didn't have his own memory intact, maybe he wouldn't stop it the next time around.

“Coffee for you,” the waitress said, setting down his coffee on the table.

Fiddleford snapped out of his own thoughts and managed another smile at her. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy it. Everything okay? You're looking kind of worried,” the waitress said, showing some concern. She glanced around a moment, then lowered her voice. “You didn't see our outdated health and food safety inspection certificate, did you?”

Fiddleford sighed and forced his hands out of his hair and onto the table. “I'm fine. Thank you for your concern. I just have a lot on my-” He paused a moment; her words sinking in. “Wait, what?”

The waitress stiffened and forced a big smile. “Nothing! I was just checking to make sure you're all right! Enjoy your coffee!” She backed away a few steps, then quickly left his table.

Fiddleford stared after her a moment, then he focused on putting cream and sugar in his coffee. A moment later, Stanford walked into the diner. Quickly, Fiddleford pulled the napkin with the diagram on it out of sight, and he greeted his friend with a somewhat strained smile. Stanford returned his smile; though, it seemed slightly more genuine. He slid into the booth.

“Sorry, I'm a little late. I was just making a few minor adjustments on the project and lost track of time,” Stanford told him.

Fiddleford had completely lost track of time while immersed in his thoughts. “Oh. Don't ya worry about it none. I wasn't waitin' long.”

That was a lie, of course, since he had arrived at the diner much earlier than he was supposed to. He looked over Stanford a moment; his gaze settling on Stanford's still-red eye. Stanford had claimed it to be the result of an infection of some kind, but Fiddleford was unconvinced.

“How's your eye doin'?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Fine, fine,” Stanford said, in that dismissive, nonchalant way he always did. He paused a moment, noticing an opossum scurry across the floor of the diner. He glanced back at Fiddleford. “This is an... interesting place you picked out, Fiddleford. I'm not sure I would have trusted a place called Greasy's Diner. It sounds... questionable.”

Fiddleford felt a little relieved that it seemed like he wouldn't have to get into what would no doubt be a difficult conversation right away. He smiled a little. “I dunno. Small-town place like this seems quaint and charmin'. Besides, I thought it might be nice to try some local cuisine, ya know?”

Stanford gave him a skeptical look and seemed about to comment when the waitress stopped by the table with a couple of menus in her arm. “Oh, is this your friend? I don't think I've seen him around here before.”

Fiddleford noticed Stanford had already stuck his hands under the table, probably in an effort to avoid having to deal with someone commenting on them. He gave a nod. “Yep, this here is-”

“Dr. Stanford Pines,” Stanford said quickly. “I, uh, don't get out much.”

“Oh! A doctor! Oh, wait! Are you that scientist that lives up in that shack in the woods? I've heard some crazy things about that place. I'd do anything to find out what you get up to in there,” the waitress said, a hint of awe and wonder in her voice.

Stanford glanced at Fiddleford questioningly. Fiddleford shrugged his shoulders. Although, he interacted with the locals a little more frequently than Stanford did, he had kept himself tied up in work, too. He had no idea what rumors might be circulating around.

“There's nothing interesting or crazy about what I do, and the shack isn't open to visitors. We'll call you over when we're ready to order,” Stanford told her as she was setting down the menus.

She frowned at Stanford, then walked off.

Fiddleford frowned at Stanford, too; though, the man had already taken to browsing through the menu and wasn't able to see his disapproval.

“Now, Stanford, that wasn't very nice of ya. She was just curious.”

“What else was I supposed to say? We have to preserve the secrecy of our project until we're ready to share it with the world. To do otherwise could mean risking everything we've worked for,” Stanford said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Well, yes, but ya didn't have to be so short with her about it.”

“She'll get over it,” Stanford said, not even looking up from the menu. “Ugh, do they serve anything here that wouldn't be swimming in grease?”

Fiddleford shook his head, taking a menu for himself. “Well, it is called Greasy's Diner.”

Stanford looked over the top of the menu at Fiddleford. “When you're right, you're right. Next time, I'm picking the place.”

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow. “You? Stanford, if ya had your way, we wouldn't actually go anywhere. You'd just have me cooking for ya at the shack.”

Stanford looked as if he was trying not to smile. “Would you rather I cook instead?”

“Heavens no!” Fiddleford tried to resist smiling himself. “The last time ya tried cookin' ya darn well almost made ashes of all of us.”

“I was trying to be efficient,” Stanford said.

“If by efficient ya mean tryin' to set fire to everything in a 10-mile radius, then yes. Ya couldn't have gotten much more efficient unless ya actually succeeded in doing that,” Fiddleford told him.

Then, he was unable to help himself and a chuckle escaped his lips. Stanford started chuckling, too. Fiddleford enjoyed these little moments when they weren't talking about the portal. It reminded him of how things used to be when they were in college. It reminded him that, no matter what happened, Stanford was still his friend. That knowledge gave him some small amount of comfort, and he felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease up. They lapsed into a short but comfortable silence as they both overlooked their menus.

“I think I'll have the coffee omelette,” Stanford said, after a moment.

“Don't ya think ya get enough coffee as it is?” Fiddleford said, picking up his cup of coffee and taking a sip.

Stanford looked Fiddleford in the eyes, then made a show of directing his attention to the coffee cup in Fiddleford's hand. He looked back up at Fiddleford, arms crossed.

Fiddleford took another sip of his coffee as if he hadn't noticed.

“For your information, Fiddleford, I've only had fifteen cups of coffee today.”

Fiddleford took another sip. “Ten here.”

“Oh, like that's so much better,” Stanford said, snorting.

“I wager it's about twenty percent healthier to drink ten cups than it is to drink fifteen plus a coffee omelette,” Fiddleford said.

“You made that percentage up, and you know it,” Stanford said.

“I made it up,” Fiddleford said, agreeably.

Stanford didn't get a chance to reply when once again the waitress came by, ready to take their order. Fiddleford ordered the Everything Soup and a ham sandwich as well as a refill for his coffee, and Stanford ordered his coffee omelette as well as a cup of coffee. The waitress mentioned off-hand that the coffee omelette had a secret ingredient, and Fiddleford found it more than a little amusing to watch Stanford's expression contort into one of deep befuddlement and mild horror.

After some light-hearted banter (although, it was mostly him just outright teasing Stanford), they both easily slipped into conversation after conversation as they waited for their food to arrive. It arrived just in time, too, because Stanford was thinking about complaining about the service. One of a number of things they had in common was that they were both quick eaters. Stanford didn't like to waste anymore time than necessary to eat (a fact which sometimes concerned Fiddleford since there had been more than a few instances where Stanford simply skipped eating altogether). As for himself, well, meal times back when he was living on the hog farm were a battlefield. If he didn't eat quickly, there was a good chance someone would take his food before he could even blink. Old habits died hard.

“You know, Fiddleford, even though, I'd rate this restaurant as the worst I've ever been to,” Stanford began.

Fiddleford gave a bit of a frown as he held up his cup of coffee to his lips.

“I'm glad you convinced me to come out and dine with you.” Stanford offered him a smile.

Fiddleford was certain the warm feeling in his stomach wasn't just from the food he had eaten and the coffee that he was drinking. He set his cup of coffee down and smiled back at his friend.

“I'm glad ya came, too, Stanford.”

Stanford's smile only grew broader. “I think this dinner together was a great way to celebrate our future success! I propose a toast. To the project, to us, to making history, and to making a better world!”

He raised his cup.

Fiddleford felt his stomach sink, and he kept his eyes glued on his own coffee cup. It was now or never. But the words weren't coming to him. They felt stuck in his throat.

“Fiddleford? What's wrong?” Stanford asked, his voice low and concerned.

Fiddleford heard the cup getting set back down on the table. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “I'm...”

He glanced at the napkin he had drawn on that was hidden behind the condiments. He grabbed it and slowly slid it over to Stanford.

“What's this?”

Fiddleford closed his eyes and breathed. “I'm havin' second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts? But we're so close to finishing the project,” Stanford said, sounding incredulous.

That was the hard part, right? Admitting it aloud? That was over. Now, he needed to explain himself. He opened his eyes to look at Stanford briefly, noting the man seemed confused.

“My final calculations have revealed deep flaws in our design – flaws that could have disastrous consequences. I've quintuple-checked everything that isn't an unknown variable, and by the way, there are too many unknown variables. We have no earthly idea where that portal actually leads, Stanford. Nor do we have any frame of reference for what might happen as a result of essentially punchin' a hole in the fabric of reality.” Fiddleford tried to keep his voice level, but it was reaching that higher pitch it got to whenever he was in distress.

Stanford looked around the diner a moment and leaned in close. “Shhh, shh. Keep your voice down. This project is supposed to be a secret, remember?”

Fiddleford nodded slowly and lowered his voice.

“The structural integrity of the portal is about as solid as we can possibly make it, but I ain't convinced that a strong enough gravitational anomaly won't tear the whole thing apart. The fuel for the portal itself is inherently unstable, and besides the fact that we're riskin' serious radiation sickness, we could have a potentially explosive situation on our hands. And I ain't meanin' a small explosion neither; I mean an explosion that could wipe out this entire town, county, and its surroundin' counties. The gravitational anomalies themselves also present a danger in -”

Stanford interrupted him. “Fiddleford, you're talking about worst-case scenarios here. Everything is going to be fine, I-”

Fiddleford interrupted him in turn. “No. No, I've done the math. The probability of failure outweighs the probability of success in nearly every case. These are LIKELY scenarios, Stanford.”

Stanford fell quiet a moment. “I'm not convinced-”

It was Fiddleford's turn to sound incredulous. “Are ya questionin' my math?”

“No, no,” Stanford said hurriedly. “But Fiddleford, you look tired. I noticed you looked tired when I came in here, and you've been stressed a lot lately. Maybe I've been pushing you too hard...”

“We're being reckless. We need to reconsider this whole plan, if not for our own safety than for the safety of this town. These people have no idea what we're buildin'. They have a right not to be put in harm's way,” Fiddleford said, managing a firm note despite the shakiness of his voice.

Stanford sighed, then he clenched his fists. “What if I told you that I know everything is going to turn out fine? You can trust me.”

“You can't know that. And numbers don't lie,” Fiddleford told him. Nonetheless, he looked at Stanford curiously. Why would he say that? What was his friend seeing that he wasn't seeing?

“I started this project. Do you really think I would continue work on it if I thought it was dangerous?”

Fiddleford's expression went flat. The look would no doubt be familiar to Stanford. It happened often enough when Stanford said something contradictory or foolish.

Stanford gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Do you really think I would continue work on it if I thought it was THAT dangerous? I wouldn't risk an entire town's safety like that. You know me. I'm not like that.”

Fiddleford fell silent for a moment, turning this thought over. He had known Stanford once. But now? Now, he wasn't sure. He felt a distance between them that hadn't been there before in their relationship. Idly, he plucked at a few strands of his hair. There was something else that bothered him. Something he had brought up before, but Stanford kept dismissing.

“There are things you're not tellin' me, Stanford,” Fiddleford told him.

Stanford fell silent this time.

“I know I've asked before. But I'm asking again because... because we're friends, and we should be able to trust each other. This project we're developing... it's more advanced than anything the human race is currently workin' on. We're developin' technology and usin' theorems and exploitin' discoveries in quantum physics that don't exist and shouldn't exist for another thousand to several thousand years. This is an unprecedented rate of development.”

Stanford's downcast look came up for a moment, and his eyes gleamed. Fiddleford once admired that look in his eyes, but now it concerned him.

“Isn't it thrilling?” he asked, a whisper of awe.

“It's impossible,” Fiddleford said, feeling himself starting to tremble due to his nerves. “It should be impossible, Stanford. Where did ya get the idea for the portal?”

Here, he managed to look at his friend, trying to search his eyes, hoping for answers at long last. Stanford remained quiet, his expression hesitant. Fiddleford felt that all too familiar sinking sensation in his stomach again. He knew Stanford wasn't going to tell him. He knew it. Stanford didn't trust him. It was as simple as that. What's worse was that Fiddleford was sure Stanford had gotten himself involved into some kind of supernatural strangeness. He didn't know if the man had been visited by aliens or what, but whatever it was that had given him the idea for the portal, he couldn't be sure it had their best interests at heart. Not when all of his calculations told him otherwise.

Fiddleford gave a heavy sigh and reached into his jacket for the thesis paper. This was his last ditch effort to convince Stanford not to go through with the test. He held the paper in his trembling hands, and he tried to will them to stop shaking to no avail. His shoulders shook along with them, and he had to adjust his spectacles to prevent them from sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Stanford's jaw had dropped open, and he stared at the paper, wide-eyed. Fiddleford hurried to explain.

“F-for the last three days,” Fiddleford said, swallowing hard, “I've been workin', without breaks, to write this paper for ya. It's a comprehensive chronicle of all your greatest discoveries.”

Stanford just continued staring, silent. Fiddleford couldn't stop now. This was important. This was his last attempt to try and convince his friend to quit the project.

“Publish this,” he said, placing it on the counter. “This is your research. I merely went through the trouble of catalogin' it for ya. There are enough discoveries here to make ya a multimillionaire. With this, ya will have everything ya ever wanted, and ya won't need to go through with this risky test. Forget about the portal and the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness! Publish this, get your life back, and move on!”

Fiddleford couldn't keep the pleading note of desperation out of his voice, especially as Stanford's brow started to furrow, and his mouth became a hard line. Stern. He seemed to be trembling also, and his six-fingered fists were clenched so tight that Fiddleford could see his knuckles turning white. The atmosphere in the room felt as if it had dropped a few degrees.

Fiddleford put both of his hands into his hair and stared at Stanford with a look of wild desperation and concern. He had seen Stanford shut down like this before. He remembered the first time Stanford had spoken to him about his twin brother. He had looked like this, too. Angry. Cold.

“Check, please!” Stanford called. His eyes were not on the thesis paper Fiddleford had written but on Fiddleford himself. Hurt. That's what could be seen there. Hurt... and something else. Something Fiddleford hadn't seen directed at him since they had become friends. Suspicion?

“Stanford-”

Stanford looked away from him. His voice sounded rougher than usual and harsh. “Right now would be good!”

The waitress with the cat earrings hurried over, giving Stanford something of a disapproving frown before presenting Fiddleford and Stanford with their bills. She went away, grumbling something under her breath about rudeness.

Fiddleford sucked in a breath. He wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not right now.

“S-stanford, please.”

Stanford looked back at Fiddleford, and for a moment, the expression in his face softened. It almost gave Fiddleford hope. Only for his hope to be dashed again when Stanford looked away from him once more to fumble with his wallet to present the exact amount of change needed for the bill. Then, he stood, fists clenched at his side. “We will do the test tomorrow night at eight 'o clock sharp.”

All Fiddleford could feel was dread. Dread threatening to consume him from the inside out. Dread for what the future would hold.

And then, Stanford said something that shocked him to his core.

“Be there or get left behind. The choice is yours.”

Fiddleford didn't see Stanford leave; he only heard the diner's door slam and felt the eyes of the diner's other patrons on him. Get left behind? What was he saying? Did the project mean that much more to him than... than their friendship? He felt sick. He stared down at the napkin with the diagram on it.

Probability of Failure.

It mocked him. Mocked his own failure in trying to convince Stanford to quit the portal. He didn't know what to do now. Numbers didn't lie. If they went through with the test or even if Stanford went through with the test alone, it would end in disaster.

But Stanford had said to trust him. Trust him. How could he trust him when he wouldn't tell him everything? How could he trust him when their friendship was being threatened over work on a project? He had trusted Stanford once, had dropped everything to come here to help him, and this was it. This was the result?

But they were friends, weren't they? And... and he had trusted Stanford once. Couldn't he find it in him to trust him again? The project meant so much to Stanford. They were both working so hard. If he could just forget this ever happened...

Fiddleford thought of the memory-erasing gun. He could forget. No question. But... He glanced at the napkin again.

Probability of Failure.

Numbers didn't lie. He could trust his friend and hope for the best, or he could take matters into his own hands. For their own safety. For the safety of the town. Maybe even the safety of the world. Fiddleford stared at the napkin a moment more, then he grabbed it and crumpled it up in his hand. He came to a decision right then and there.

Fiddleford emptied out his wallet to cover his own bill. He didn't bother trying to calculate the appropriate tip. If he paid the waitress more than he should have, well... she seemed like a nice lady and probably deserved the extra money, anyway. He kept his head bowed to avoid meeting anyone's gaze as he hurried out the diner.

Tomorrow, everything would be different. Tomorrow, everything would be... better.

[dextronoms]

Shae (@fateful-wings ) & Emmelia (mine!) supports!

C Support

Shae: Ah… okay, I think this is the right person. U-um excuse me, are you Emmelia by chance?

Emmelia: … Hm? Oh, yes, I am! You’re… Shae, right? What can I help you with? *smiles*

Shae: U-um, was it your bow that went missing from the armory recently? There aren’t too many who use one all the time so I’ve been asking around to make sure.

Emmelia: Oh! Yes! I’ve been looking everywhere for it! I leave it in the armory one time by mistake and it goes missing… what bad luck, huh? *chuckles*

Emmelia: Did you happen to find it? It has woven patterns carved in it, so it’s pretty easy to tell if it’s mine.

Shae: Oh dear. Well, the thing with your bow… Um, it didn’t so much go missing as much as I had taken it by accident.

Shae: I’m really sorry about taking it! It’s just there was going to be a battle soon and I didn’t have mine on hand! Yours just happened to be the first one I grabbed before we left…

Emmelia: Ah, don’t worry about it! When you’re in a rush, you gotta grab what you can! No harm, no foul. I’m just excited to get it back, the one I have been using in its place just doesn’t feel the same.

Shae: Y-yeah? Oh no… um well, I really can’t give you back the original one. I was caught off-guard by one of the enemy troops and they damaged it pretty badly. I’m so sorry if it was important to you, I didn’t mean to break it!

Emmelia: … Oh. That’s. A little sad. I mean, I’m glad you are alright because my bow isn’t a living person… this might sound weird, but did you happen to bring the pieces back with you?

Shae: Huh? O-oh yes, they’re just not on me at the moment. I tried to salvage what I could and have them with some of my other things right now. I can go get them, but first I wanted to give you this.

Shae: I felt really bad for breaking your bow so after everything was settled back down, I made a trip to a person I worked for that’s pretty good at making them to see if there was anything that could be done to fix it. There wasn’t, so I asked if he could make one that was like it.

Emmelia: Really? I really appreciate that, but you didn’t have to go and do that! Accidents happen and I’m just glad it served you well while you had it. I’m a little sad for personal reasons, but a bow is a bow.

Emmelia: I won’t say no to a new bow though, how much do I owe your friend for it?

Shae: Don’t worry about payment, I already took care of that. This is more of an apology gift, so you don’t owe anything for it. I know it can’t replace the other one, but I hope it’ll be an alright one for you to use.

Shae: Oh right! Do you want me to get your other bow now?

Emmelia: Are you sure? I do really appreciate it… the bow I’ve been using is a spare so it’s all kinds of wonky.

Emmelia: Oh, if you have the time to grab it for me. I want to see if I can salvage some of the wood… maybe turn it into something else. It’s been through a lot with me, so I’d like to keep it in some way.

Shae: I can understand that feeling. Alright, I’ll go get it for you right now, just wait right here a minute.

B Support

Emmelia: Ughhh, how did I manage to miss breakfast in the mess? I even woke up relatively early today.

Emmelia: Maybe I can find some extra stuff around camp? Acting like… some sort of opossum.

Shae: Hm? Oh, good morning Emmelia. Um… is everything alright? You seem to be looking around pretty hard for something.

Emmelia: Ahhh, morning Shae. Well… *chuckles nervously* I’m looking around for possible extra snacks. I missed breakfast in the mess today and I’m really feeling it now.

Emmelia: It’s my own fault for sleeping in, but man. Still sucks.

Emmelia: Did you manage to make it to breakfast this morning?

Shae: Yeah, it was a bit hectic over there earlier. I grabbed a couple small things but I got away from there pretty quick because the crowd got a little too big for me.

Shae: You said you missed breakfast though? That’s not good… well, I might be able to help you out a little. Are you looking for anything in particular?

Emmelia: Yeah, I usually just grab some stuff and leave too. The army is way too big for all of us to sit in there at once.

Emmelia: Honestly, I could go for some fruit -- you can never go wrong with a peach! If you could help me find one, you’d be a lifesaver! Well… a stomach saver at the very least.

Shae: Peaches huh? Hm… how many did… oh! I actually may be able to help with getting one or two, I mean if you don’t mind them being from a day or two ago.

Emmelia: Woah, seriously? I don’t mind at all! They’re my all time favorite!

Shae: Oh, really? Haha, I guess we’re both in luck again. You see, the other day I had found a merchant actually selling them so I kind of bought their whole basket. I didn’t really realize there were way too many for one person until I got back, so I was a bit worried about them going bad.

Shae: I’ve managed to use most of them, but I have a couple extra I can give you. I asked Lady/Lord Corrin if I could keep them in the kitchen, so they should still be there. From the looks of it too, most of the people might have left by now.

Emmelia: I will more than gladly take some of them off your hands! I’ll owe you big time for this. Do you like baked goods? I’ll happily bake you something in return! I can make most things with all the stuff available in the mess…

Emmelia: We just gotta “sneak” in during down times so that others won’t hover.

Shae: I do really like baked goods, so that sounds good to me. I’m glad I can give some of them to someone who likes them so much, I was worried they would go to waste.

Shae: Hey Emmelia, I hope you don’t mind me asking but when did you gain a love for peaches? I know they’re really hard to find in Nohr, even I didn’t start seeing them until a few years ago, and that was near the border. It just seems like a rare food to like around Nohr is all.

Emmelia: Great! Think about what you’d want and I’ll start rounding up the supplies.

Emmelia: Hm, well. It was a long while ago, actually. My Dad has a lot of connections to merchants from his days as a Guard, so he would definitely use them whenever he could. That usually meant that we’d luck out and get things from Hoshido that the average middle-of-no-where village couldn’t get their hands on.

Emmelia: Mind you, it was still rare to get fruits and other perishables, but when we did. It was usually one of my happiest days.

Emmelia: What about you, Shae? Any foods that you love a lot, even if it’s hard to get?

Shae: I see. That’s amazing that your dad was able to do that, and it sounds like you all enjoyed when those kinds of things arrived. I sometimes wish I could have experienced some of Hoshido’s foods growing up as well, because I’ve actually taken quite a liking to their fish and seafood dishes in the past couple years and I feel like I’ve missed out of some great foods growing up.

Shae: Hey, I think I know what would be nice to bake. Your talk of peaches suddenly made me wanting a peach pie, and I’m pretty sure there would be enough after you had a couple for breakfast.

Emmelia: Oh man, their seafood is so good! Who’d have thought joining a war would let you taste so much different foods? And, well, maybe you didn’t get a chance to taste them growing up, but you can taste them now! Better late than never, right? *smiles*

Emmelia: I like the way you think! I can whip up a pretty good peach pie for you, no problem. I’ll even make them mini single ones, so that you can easily eat them for snacks with less of a mess.

A Support

Shae: Oh, hi there Emmelia! Are you free right now? I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a little while now.

Emmelia: Shae! Hey! Yeah, I’m free. I just finished helping with some stocking and stuff.

Emmelia: I’d be happy to answer anything I can for you. *grins*

Shae: Well, I keep noticing the flower in your hair and I was wondering where you got it from? Like, does it have some special meaning or something or is it just because you think it’s pretty? N-not that it just being pretty isn’t a good enough reason to have it th-though!

Emmelia: My flower? Ahh, well, it doesn’t really have a special meaning, per-se… it’s just my favorite type of flower! It was from my mother’s garden and she dipped it in a special resin for me so I could wear it.

Emmelia: : I just really love daffodils… *giggles* just because I think they’re pretty. I could make one for you if you’d like?

Shae: Ah, maybe some other time? Daffodils are really nice, I agree with you on that. Sorry for the random question, it’s just that when I was growing up the grounds around my village weren’t really suited for that kind of plant. I didn’t really start seeing flowers around more until I left home, so I still get a little surprised when I see them around.

Shae: Recently I’ve been asking local people who sell flowers about them and apparently there’s like a whole sort of language surrounding them? I didn’t know they had meanings like that, did you?

Emmelia: Really? I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to grow up around flowers. My Mother always had a garden filled with them, so its hard to imagine my childhood without them. Maybe after the war, you can find a beautiful little spot to plant any type of flower you want.

Emmelia: And I did know! Well… not a whole lot of the meanings, really. Just the basic ones, like roses meaning different types of love and what flowers are best for mourning. Can the meanings get that extensive?

Shae: I guess from what the one lady I talked to said, like every flower has a meaning or maybe even multiples! She tried to go into more detail but I couldn’t wrap my head around half of what she was saying… I think she noticed too because she suddenly just started pointing out easier flowers and meaning all the sudden, like roses that you mentioned.

Shae: I wonder… instead of waiting until after the war, do you think maybe I could try out a flower garden here in camp if Lady/Lord Corrin is okay with it? It just feels like growing them hands-on might help me learn about them more maybe?

Emmelia: That's a lovely idea! It would really boost everyone’s morale too, seeing brightly colored flowers everyday. If you’d like, I’d happily help you with it. We’d just need to find different seeds and bulbs, and find a good spot that has different types of sunlight.

Emmelia: I have a feeling Corrin would be excited about it!

Shae: You think so? Maybe they’re free right now so I could go ask them about it. It would be fun to start one out right away, and that lady I talked to might have some stuff for growing that it could start out with!

Shae: O-okay, I’m gonna go see if Lady/Lord Corrin’s okay with this! If they let me start one, I can go see that lady for some flowers to start out with! Um… would you maybe help me with planting if this whole thing gets started today?

Emmelia: Of course! I can start looking around for a good area if you’d like? The more sunlight variety we can have, the more types of flowers we can plant!

Shae: Right! Alrighty, let’s see what Lady/Lord Corrin thinks!

//scene fades out//

Shae: Well, I think that’s the last of the seeds and bulbs planted! I didn’t think that lady would be willing to sell me so many, but it seems this spot you found is plenty big enough for them!

Emmelia: Wonderful! I’m so excited to watch them grow! We should get the daisies pretty quickly, but the wait will be more than worth it for the others. Everyone is going to love them… I think especially Lord/Lady Corrin and Lady Elise.

Emmelia: Always good to have some color in our lives.

Emmelia: Oh Shae, this was such a wonderful idea you had!

Shae: A-ah, th-thank you… though you had a part in it too for mentioning gardens in the first place. Oh! Before I forget about them, while I was getting all the stuff for the garden I happened to mention to her that a friend really liked daffodils, and she wrapped up a few that she had wrapped and let me have them.

Shae: I figured you really like them, s-so you do want them? They’re a different color than the one in your hair is the only thing.

Emmelia: Ah, I just helped a little…

Emmelia: *pleased gasp* Oh! How pretty! Don’t worry about the color, I love all types of daffodils! These will be so lovely in my quarters… thank you so much.

Emmelia: You’ve been giving me a lot of things recently, I’ve noticed. I have to return the favor one day. Maybe I can make you some lunch tomorrow? We can tend the garden and eat it when we take a break.

Shae: Haha, I just really like giving things to friends is all. Lunch after taking care of the garden sounds really nice though! I look forward to it!

S Support

Emmelia: Oh! Oh Shae, look! Some of the daisies are sprouting. Those two weeks of maintenance really paid off.

Emmelia: Ahh, it's so cute! I know it's just a little green sprout, but… it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling.

Shae: H-huh? Oh yeah, look at them popping up! Yeah, it’s been such a great experience watching this garden come to life, even if it does take a while. N-not that I mind though, I’ve really enjoyed spending all this time tending it with you…

Shae: I know you’re probably sick of me thanking you for doing this with me, but I really am grateful you’ve been here with me for these past couple weeks…

Emmelia: I’ve really loved doing this with you too. It’s nice to spend all the time we have together, tending this garden and just enjoying each other’s company. If anything, I should be thanking you just as many times as you’ve thanked me! *chuckles*

Emmelia: But, don’t you worry - I could never be sick of you.

Shae: R-really? Oh wow, hearing you say something like that… I was starting to get worried that maybe I was coming off as a little clingy with wanting to spend time with you. It’s hard for me to be close with others like this a lot because I worry about how I come off, so I-I’m glad I haven’t done something to push you away.

Shae: Ah! I’m sorry for that bit of rambling… I didn’t mean for all of that to come out…

Emmelia: *giggles* It’s OK sweetheart! I understand what you mean. I like it when you ramble, because that gets you to open up more! Hopefully one day you can just ramble around me and not worry about apologizing… because I’d like that a lot.

Emmelia: I love when you ramble and I love when we share comfortable silence. And, of course, I love… u-um…

Emmelia: *coughs* Spending time like this with you. Y-Yeah.

Shae: … A-ah… what if I told you that I wanted t-to keep spending time with you like this… that I d-don’t want moments like this with you to end… and not just keep making moments like this, but all sorts of different kinds together?

Emmelia: That sounds wonderful… I’d like that very much. I had hoped we could be close for a very long time, even when the war ends, but I thought it might be difficult.

Emmelia: What did you have in mind?

Shae: Emmelia, I… r-really li- no, that’s not the right word. I… I… *gulp*

Shae: E-Emmelia, I l-love you! I love you and want to g-give you this ring to show that I want to be with you! Y-you don’t have to take it if you d-don’t want to though!

Emmelia: !!!

Emmelia: Shae! I -- *inhales* Of course I want it! Gods, I love you too… so much. You make me so happy and calm and I want to be with you, too! I want to be with you very much. I had thought that maybe you’d only want to stay friends.

Emmelia: So, I’m… I’m so… ugh, I’m sorry, I’m getting a bit teary. How embarrassing. *embarrassed chuckle*

Shae: N-no no, don’t be s-sorry! I-I’m honestly trying to n-not bawl r-right no- *sob*

Shae: E-Emmelia, I’m so h-happy… I may not h-have much but I-I’ll do everything I can to make every day bright a-and happy for y-you!

Emmelia: Just being with you makes me so, so happy. I’m so excited to watch this garden grow with you, and have a happy future with you from here on out. We’ll make eachother happy… I just know it.

[raptorsenshi]

Milk

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with milk.

We all had that phase, right? Where there was a food or drink we just couldn't get enough of and wanted it morning, noon and night. That was me with milk. I could drink it by the gallon. My parents didn't mind, they would rather I wanted something healthy like that to quench my thirst than be constantly after soda or one of those concentrate drinks full of sugar that you had to add water to.

I could make myself sick sometimes, drinking too much, too fast. But didn't every kid? Hell, even adults can have too much of a good thing and make themselves ill for it. It was never enough to put me off though, no amount of aching bellies could separate me from my beloved milk. Nothing could.

Or so I thought.

See, our kitchen was pretty small or at least it was too small to fit in the gigantic fridge (and freezer) my parents had. So it was kept in the basement instead.

One summer when I was around sixteen, my parents decided I was old enough to stay at home alone whilst they took off on a second honeymoon or something. I didn't mind, at that age I would rather have stayed at home with my friends than been a third wheel to my parents as they tried to rekindle the romance. Besides, if I needed another my grandparents lived right across the street. Yeah, my family was the kind who didn't stray far from their roots.

It was uneventful as you might expect: I had friends over and we played video games, pigged out on takeout and that was about it beyond my taking care of the house duties.

Until the third week.

The house was old so creaks and groans and other 'unexplained' noises were something I was used to and easily brushed aside. This one night, however, I had just come back up from the basement – the door to which lay in our kitchen – with a glass of milk, ready to crawl up the stairs and settle into bed for the night when an unusual banging came from the room I'd just left.

I tried to brush it off as just the ancient stairs airing their complaints after I'd trampled up them, but there was something so off about it. In my sixteen years of living in that house I'd never heard anything like it. I figured it might've been a wild animal, maybe a raccoon or opossum that had somehow got in during the day. Being a typical teen, that was not something I wanted to deal with late at night, so I simply locked the basement door to prevent it getting up into the main house and went to bed.

Morning came and I tentatively went down into the basement to check for any signs of a wild animal, and beyond the few cobwebs to be expected even in a furnished basement like our own, there was nothing, so I decided it really had just been one of the many noises of our old house, got my usual glass of milk and headed back up the stairs.

That night, the noise returned. This time I was sure it wasn't simply random creaking, because it started up at the exact same time right before I headed up to my room for the night. The only difference was I hadn't been down to the basement yet so it definitely was not the result of me stepping on some well-worn floorboards.

Being the not particularly brave teen I was, I bolted out of the house and across to my grandparents. Fortunately they were still awake and my grandfather was a bull of a man not to be messed with. He marched over with his shotgun to investigate, only to come back a half hour later claiming he couldn't find anything or anyone. He reasoned, like me, that it was maybe a raccoon and was hiding in a nook or cranny somewhere down there, and had locked the place up to stop it getting out much as I had done the previous night.

I stayed at my grandparents from that point on, going back into the house during the day to take care of any chores and play on my Nintendo for a couple of hours. I didn't go back down into the basement, opting to eat and drink at my grandparents' home too.

About a week before my parents got back there was a summer storm that caused a power outage. It lasted a couple of days but gave me all the more reason to spend the remaining time my parents were away at my grandparents.

When I returned one morning to open up the curtains I noticed a foul smell spreading throughout the house. Knowing the power had been out I assumed the heavy, pungent odour was coming from the food in the fridge and freezer that had begun to go bad. The thought of dealing with it was unpleasant but it wasn't something I wanted my parents to come home to. I didn't want to deal with the cleanup and my grandparents would be out of town for the night visiting my great-uncle and I didn't much fancy having to clear out rotting food alone.

So I did what any bone-idle teenager would do and left it. Sprayed some air freshener and dealt with it for the day, choosing to eat dry cereal and drink water rather than going down to the basement and be overwhelmed by the stretch seeping out of it.

That night was particularly hot – even for summer – and so I ended up turning the AC on. The cool air spreading through the house was a relief as I went to sleep, but it was soon a decision I was regretting.

I woke up at around four in the morning to find the air of the house thick and muggy, it was worse than when I had gone to bed. Worse still, was the stench so strong I could taste it in my mouth. It was sweet and sour all at the same time, mixed with the sulphuric smell of rotting eggs and something my adolescent brain could only describe as someone having missed the toilet.

I thought about a time when I was younger, when my dad had accidentally unplugged the fridge and none of us had noticed until the milk had gone off. I could remember that smell as I gagged and hurried into the upstairs bathroom, kneeling before the toilet as my stomach threatened to empty itself. It was sweet and bitter like this smell, with something acidic I've never known how to explain, and I could remember the thick, chunky sludge the milk had become, none of this helped me as the scent that filled the house seemed to flood into every pore of my body. I could smell it on my clothes, it was so strong my eyes watered and with one final, heavy flip, my stomach heaved and I vomited.

How could the smell have gotten so bad in just a few hours?

It was only when I was cleaning myself up at the sink that I noticed the air vents weren't pushing out any soothing, cool air. Knowing that I obviously hadn't turned it off as I had been sleeping, I assumed the system was still messed up after the power outage. I couldn't stay in that house with that heat and that smell and so, dressed only in my underwear, I hurried over to my grandparents and, once again, spent the night there.

When they arrived in the morning I explained the situation to them. Neither were pleased I hadn't taken care of the rotting food the day before, but agreed to help before it could get any worse.

'Worse' would be an understatement for the odour that smacked us in the face. My grandmother couldn't even make it into the house, she was an ashen white and bent over the table on the porch, gagging. Even my grandfather lost his hardened composure upon setting foot into the house, having brought a tissue out of his pocket to cover his nose and mouth.

"Stay here," he told me, a clear command even if his words had been a little muffled. I, of course, didn't listen to him – because it made no sense to me for him to make me stay out and have him clean up all the mess – and once I heard the basement door open I cut through the house to the kitchen.

I can only describe walking into that kitchen as having your face millimetres from an oven door when it's opened and the wave of heat knocks you off your feet. It was that, but only the smell. I could hear my grandfather retching and coughing as he descended the stairs, and I myself was soon doing the same as I made my way to the basement door with tears forming in my eyes.

Now my grandfather was a hard man, but I had never heard him swear until that moment. And it was as if he was making up for a lifetime of never saying a bad word with the string of curses leaving him. This urged me on through the heated murk of stench that made traversing the stairs a grinding task.

I wish I had listened to my grandfather when he told me to stay with my grandma.

He tried to urge me back up before I saw anything but it was much too late for that.

The noises I'd heard from the basement weren't from the house settling, nor were they from an animal.

They were from a human.

A human now rotting in the summer heat and half-hanging out of an air vent. Now I knew why they'd stopped working, and how the smell had permeated the whole house so quickly. It also explained why neither me or my grandfather had found anything upon investigating the basement- they'd been in the vents. The fact a person had somehow gotten into my home was chilling enough, to see them as the first dead body in my life was worse. Death is a part of nature, but a disgusting part when the usual human ways of dealing with it aren't in practice.

A body rots quickly in heat, and their corpse was hanging in such a way I'm sure that if it had been left another day or two the body would've snapped in half. Fluids leaked down the walls: congealed blood, dirty brown liquid I didn't want to think about, and the worst of it- something thick, white and pus-like that reminded me of that sour milk.

The smell of death clings to everything, and even after the body was removed, all furniture from down there tossed out and the basement professionally fumigated, it still lingered. I threw out the clothes I'd been wearing that day, no matter how many times they were washed it was still there. I couldn't go down to the basement, it still hit me like a truck each time I so much as passed the door. Even my parents who were fortunate enough to still be gone during the worst of it couldn't deal with it. They moved to the street over and from what my grandparents have told us, whenever someone new moves in they always complain about the smell.

We never did figure out how they got in, the police believed there must have been some open window I missed one day and I'm inclined to agree. They were homeless, looking for food and shelter, something I can't hold against them. I almost feel guilty in a way. The noises they made sneaking around the basement at night drove me away to my grandparents. Maybe if I'd stayed I would've heard them call or help – if they had called for it at all – when they'd got stuck in the vent. Maybe they'd still be alive. I don't know.

What I do know is from that day on, I couldn't drink milk. The smell of even fresh milk would bring the reek of death back to me, like it had just been trapped and waiting somewhere at the back of my nose. The sight of it reminded me of those fluids seeping down our basement walls.

When I was a kid I loved milk, now I hate it.

[palmbayanimalpro]

Cocoa Beach FL Critter Control

Cocoa Beach Florida Animal Removal Services

How to get squirrels out of the attic

How to get raccoons out of the attic

How to get rid of raccoons in the attic

How to remove bats in the attic

How to remove opossums in the attic

Dead Animal Removal Services

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Cocoa Beach Pest Control Service And Critter Removal

We operate a full-service Cocoa Beach  wildlife control company, and with our full house/grounds inspection, we can offer solutions to prevent animal problems in the future. We service the Brevard county Florida.

When we do an inspection, we will be able to tell you what the problem is. With a complete understanding of the animals we work with, we can quickly and easily identify which animals are causing the problem and exactly where the animals are gaining entry. With our expertise and vast awareness of wildlife, we work efficiently, solving your Cocoa Beach wildlife problem as quickly as possible.

Steps to Prevent Squirrel Entry in Crawl Space, Basement or Attic

How to Get Rid of Raccoons Humanely

Does Playing a Radio, Using Mothballs, Soaking Rags in Ammonia, or Using Other Folk Remedies Effectively Remove Raccoons from an Attic?

Squirrels may be a major thorn in your side. They spend enormous amounts of time eating and digging in your garden (or bird feeder) - but what can you do?

You can take major steps and set out poison, but that has its drawbacks.

You can try and trap them, but that has its drawbacks too.

Or, you can try and repel them with simple things found around your house.

People have found all types of things that can be used for repelling squirrels, but as with all things - some work for some people and not for others.

If one home remedy does not work, try another. As said earlier, some people have more success with some than others.

As a last resort, there are commercial repellents which you can buy at your local hardware store. These obviously will cost more but are a stronger repellent and may have a better effect.

How Much is a Bat Exclusion?

How Do You Find the Areas Where Bats Are Getting In?

Is It Safe to Handle a Skunk with Bare Hands?

Florida has a lot of bats! They thrive in Florida.

Some people are scared to death of bats. They creep many people right out. Even those of us that don't mind dealing with bats are entitled to an increased pulse rate when one is flying around our bedroom at 2:00 in the morning!

I am a bat removal expert. I have taken bats out of living rooms, bedrooms, basements and kitchens, walls, and attics. I work all hours of the day (and night!) and have seen people move right out of their home because a bat is flying around inside.

Unless a lone bat has accidentally flown in the house through an open door or window, chances are it is living in the walls or attic. Somehow it got confused, followed a fresh air current, and wound up in the living quarters. As much as people try to convince themselves that it is the only bat living in their home, chances are very good that there are more where that one came from. As you probably know, bats are friendly creatures and usually live in colonies. One bat does not make a colony!

As you can probably tell, my wildlife control company charges for bat inspections. We guide homeowners through the bat removal process and encourage them to save money by taking our recommendations and implementing them. Sometimes homeowners opt to do it all themselves and we are happy to guide them every step of the way. Other times, homeowners want us to do all the work. Either way, because of the detailed inspection that we have provided, they know every gap in their house that will be sealed.

Getting bats out of houses isn't rocket science. It is however a lot of work and takes time. If a bat has found its way inside your home, call a professional, get educated, and get the bats out!

How to Catch a Bat Flying Inside House?

Is It Safe to Handle a Skunk with Bare Hands?

Raccoon Extermination Services

The Facts about Raccoons With their dark mask and mischievous curiosity, raccoons always seem to be up to no good. The raccoon is a nocturnal mammal, which means that it spends majority of its night scavenging for food. As a result of this, many individuals wake up the next morning to find their trash scattered across their front yard. Raccoons prefer wooded areas near a water source as this is their natural habit, however, they have adapted extremely well to the urban environment. Instead of making their home in a tree, they often nestle in accessible areas in your home such as an attic or chimney, or underneath a deck, house or shed. Because raccoons are nocturnal, it may take a long time to even know that you have a raccoon problem. However, if a raccoon has made it into your home, it will not take long to hear them scurrying about over your head. At this point it's a good idea to call a professional pest control company that handles raccoon removal.

Damage Caused by Raccoons It may be hard to imagine how a raccoon can get into your attic but low hanging or adjacent branches to your house provide easy access. Raccoons are relentless pests, so anything exposed or that can be detached, such as shingles, roof vents, chimneys, or fascia boards offer a potential entrance into your home. Raccoons find attics to be a great environment to raise their young because of the warmth they provide and the abundance of materials that can be used to build a nest. They will rip insulation off the attic walls and chew through electrical wires, as well as destroy air ducts. They will use your attic as a restroom; feces will begin to pile up and urine will seep down to your ceiling. If given the opportunity raccoons will raise multiple litters in your attic, so early detection and raccoon removal is crucial.

It is important to shop around to make sure you find the best pest control company to perform the raccoon removal as some provides services that others do not. Some companies offer exclusion, remediation, trapping, damage repair and preventative techniques. It's also important to find a company that handles pests humanely and responsibly.

Humane Raccoon Removal Humane raccoon removal involves the placement of specialized traps in key areas of infestation that are monitored over a period of time. Once captured, strict state guidelines are followed to ensure the least amount of stress on the animal. After all of the pests are safely and humanely removed from the home, the pest control company can then perform the necessary clean up, damage repair and preventative measures involved with proper raccoon removal.

Raccoons are destructive animals, but all is not lost if you find one taking up residence in your home. One call to the right pest control company can make the raccoon removal process quick and easy for both the homeowner and pest.

Florida Critter Removal

from Palm Bay Florida Animal Pro http://palmbayanimal.pro/florida/animal-removal-cocoa-beach/ via http://palmbayanimal.pro

[runjakkrun]

I am my “TBI brain,” but my “TBI brain” is not me…. This is a screenshot from a link my neurologist gave me…. First, I suppose I should catch you all up on the situation…. I am a 24 year old U.S. Army vet- turned- Paramedic, with severe PTSD, addiction issues, and as of Nov. 8, 2016, a traumatic brain injury that changed my life…. I am a K9 handler for my local K9 search and rescue team, and I’d let my K9 SAR prospect puppy- a 4 month old long coat Sable GSD named Godric- out to potty around 2200. It was dark. He was young, clumsy, and unrefined. At the exact moment I started uptown concrete back porch steps and issued him the “come” command (hier!), an uncharacteristically large Virginia opossum came tromping out of the woods, looked in his direction, and spooked him. He then darted, at full speed and weighing in at a good 40lbs vs my 110lbs, across the yard, up the steps, and between my legs. I started to go down, reaching out for the hand rails that weren’t there due to the remodeling we were in the process of completing, and slammed both the top of my skull and my forehead on the edge of what I believe was two or more concrete stairs…. The events that followed are a blur…. 
The next thing I remember (which is a pretty solid indication of me losing consciousness for an unknown period of time), is trying to sit up. My head was pounding, I was a bit disoriented, and Godric was pacing back and forth, alternating between licking my face and pawing at the sliding glass door. I’m a medic, and everybody knows we make absolutely terrible patients, so of course I truly believed that I was no worse for the wear…. I stood slowly, let myself and my boy back in the house, crated him for the night, and went into the bathroom to clean myself up. I was bleeding pretty heavily from my forehead and upper lip, both my upper and lower lip were starting to swell, and I’d completely shattered my glasses frames and lenses, so I couldn’t really see much of anything. I popped about 4 ibuprofen and climbed in the bed.
My girlfriend at the time got home from work around 0200 that next morning. Shortly after she got home and snuggled up against me in the bed, I began violently vomiting, losing chunks of time, and drifting in and out of consciousness…. About 8 hours later, I started stuttering and having difficulty recalling things from my short term memory. At that point, it became chillingly apparent that something wasn’t right…. I had my girlfriend drive me to our local emergency department, where they did an MRI and CT scan. I was given norco and fioricet to help alleviate the excruciating headache, zofran to tackle the nausea and vomiting, and a dark and quiet room to await my results. About an hour later, a PA came in and informed us that my scans showed swelling in my frontal lobe, damage to my Broca’s area, multiple skull fractures, and were 100% consistent with a grade three concussion and TBI…. By this time I was sporting a small cut and a lump the size of a golf ball above my right eye. My speech was barely understandable. I was having severe lapses in memory…. I was absolutely terrified…. I spent the next few months rushing between appointments with my PCP, my neurologist, another neuro specializing in frontal lobe TBI’s, and repeat CTs, MRIs, EEGs, and follow ups with all of the above. It’s all honestly extremely difficult to keep straight…. Now, let me give you a quick run down on how all of this has affected my life…. Now.... Before you judge me or blame me for some of the things I do or say sometimes (POST- frontal lobe TBI/ last November), understand that it’s just as frustrating and unappreciated on my end as it may be on yours…. 
A lot of the time, I’m extremely reckless and impulsive. Not because I’m an idiot or don’t care or because I have no self control, but because the part of my brain that controls impulsivity is physically damaged. I’ve done and said several things extremely out of character for me, because if it even crosses my mind, the TBI brain grabs it and runs with it. (reference Jack Sparrow “I’ve got a jar of dirt” scene where he’s running down the beach from the savages.) Sometimes what it runs with makes no sense whatsoever…. 
My moods are all over the place from one minute to the next, for no reason whatsoever. Sometimes I’m overwhelmingly manic and nothing can bring me down, sometimes I’m so depressed I can’t see straight, and a lot of the time, I’m just really, REALLY numb. I’m on several medications to help balance that, but there’s only so much modern medicine can do. 
I get unbelievably angry over the stupidest little things. Today, I was going to ride with my grandparents somewhere and I could hear the trailer chain rattling as we drove, and it literally made me so agitated and emotional and stressed out that we had to turn around, go back to the house, and I had to take my own car. 
I lose focus easily and I forget things. All. The. Time! Especially “short term memory” things. A conversation I just had not five minutes ago. Details I should remember. Names. Faces. Dates. I tell someone I’ll call or text them back in a bit then I completely forget until I’m reminded again or someone gets butthurt. 
I stutter due to damage to my Broca’s area (controls speech) and not only strangers but people I’ve known my whole life look at me like there’s something wrong with me now. They try to pretend they don’t notice but I’m well aware that they do. It takes me a full minute to get a single sentence out sometimes. Sometimes I get hung up so bad on words that I’ll find another word I can get out easier instead. A lot of times, it takes me too long to get things out and whoever I’m talking to will get impatient and finish my sentence or start throwing out words that MIGHT be what I’m trying to say. I can’t stand that. I KNOW exactly what it is that I want to say, it’s just that it gets mixed up somewhere between my thoughts and the physical action of speaking them. Because of this, I barely talk any more. Some people take it as rudeness, me not being very polite or personable, or aloofness. I can assure you, it’s none of the above. If you went from being the articulate whiz kid with a way with words to your own brain being the reason it takes you 20 minutes to say what would’ve taken 2 or 3 before, all while somebody stared at you with a fake politeness, how would you feel? So yes, it’s physically and emotionally easier on me to text, write, or sign. 
I get super frazzled and nearly melt down when things change or don’t go as planned. Any little hiccup in routine or plans or how things should be sends me into a full blown rage or panic attack. It’s just extremely hard to adapt sometimes. 
I hit things…. Which I’ve always done, but it’s gotten so much worse since the injury. Any sudden emotion whatsoever, I get overwhelmed and can’t handle it. I have never and will never hurt anyone else, but lord have mercy on any door, wall, mirror, car, tree, or life-sized cardboard cutout of the Biebz within striking distance when something trips my switch because it’s done before I even realize what’s happening. Yeah, it’s all frustrating for you, but it’s even more frustrating for me. When I have to live it every single day. It’s been a huge adjustment and I still have no idea what’s going on with any of it half the time. These are only a few of the every day struggles somebody with a traumatic brain injury faces. You wouldn’t hold having asthma or a broken arm against someone…. So please, don’t judge me for what I can’t help, either…. -KBW, 2017

[palmbayanimalpro]

Malabar FL Wildlife Control

Malabar Florida Animal Removal Services

How to get squirrels out of the attic

How to get raccoons out of the attic

How to get rid of raccoons in the attic

How to remove bats in the attic

How to remove opossums in the attic

Dead Animal Removal Services

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Malabar Pest Control Service And Critter Removal

We operate a full-service Malabar  wildlife control company, and with our full house/grounds inspection, we can offer solutions to prevent animal problems in the future. We service the Brevard county Florida.

When we do an inspection, we will be able to tell you what the problem is. With a complete understanding of the animals we work with, we can quickly and easily identify which animals are causing the problem and exactly where the animals are gaining entry. With our expertise and vast awareness of wildlife, we work efficiently, solving your Malabar wildlife problem as quickly as possible.

What Do Raccoons Eat?

What Does Raccoon Feces Look Like?

Bat Removal Services

Bats can be a big menace to any household, both physically and emotionally. These creatures normally inhabit dark and warm places in the house. You are likely to find them in the basement, walls, soffits and the attic of your house. These low flying creatures can inhabit your home if there are any entry points to let them in. If you have been having problems getting rid of these creatures here are some tips to help you remove them from your house completely.

Bat Proofing Services

There are many companies that offer bat proofing services to home owners. These companies not only remove the offending animals from your house, they also offer bat exclusion services. These services enable you to have a home that will repel these unwanted creatures, instead of attracting them. Although the companies that offer these services are countless, not all of them offer the quality of services that you would want. The best bat removal services come normally with a guarantee. Unless the company promises 100% removal of these creatures from your house, there is absolutely no need for you to pay for the services. The services should include an inspection of your house. The inspection will enable the service provider to identify areas of use by the bats and potential areas they could re-enter. Thus in turn the wildlife control professional will provide a course of action to resolve the problem for you and your home.

Bat Guano Removal

They can cause untold health dangers to the inhabitants and possibly insulation damage to the attic and walls where they roost due to large quantities of buildup. The excrement of these creatures may hold considerable health dangers such as histoplasmosis to everyone in the house. You can employ the services of bat guano removal companies to help you get rid of this guano and soiled insulation from your house. You can also clean the guano yourself if you have the right cleaning materials and personal protective equipment to protect yourself from the health dangers involved with handling bat guano.

Bat Control and Bat Removal Tips

Bat Removal Tips

Skunk Trapping & Control

Want to know more about the ABC's of what this area under discussion has to propose to every human being who is willing to do things for themselves? During an inspection of the structure needing bat eviction I can determine the size of the colony and the best time of the year to remove the bats. During certain times of the year bats form nursery colonies. Depending on your geographical area the bats can only be removed when the young bats are able to fly. We like to use a one-way door or referred to as a valve.

These unidirectional escapes lets the bats escape not allowing the bats back in. This type of bat control eviction is approved by the organization Bat Conservation International. The utmost critical thing in bat removal from a residence is attention to all the little construction gaps. When closing all construction gaps, anything larger than an a quarter inch should be sealed. You have to seal the entire home to foil bats from getting back in. You will go as far as sealing any fault or construction crack. Ill need to exclude vents to keep bats out, let's start by closing off louver vents, attic vents, and ridge vents if bats can breach them using 1/4 inch screen. These can be painted to match, but I have found it blends in nicely left unpainted.

Inspect chimneys, bricks and mortar may be loose forming gaps. Look for gaps around where the chimney goes through soffit, carefully seal gaps and install a one-way door, if a bat way in is there. Ridge venting systems are feasible bat entrances. When looking at the ridge vent closely you'll usually find the plastic ridge vents deform leaving gaps, I've seen where varmints have chewed a gap in the vent. I will do away with the previous roof vent system and replace it. Primarily, you lay down 1/4 inch hardware cloth this keeps the bats, mice and squirrels from getting through. We will install a one-way bat door here also if the bats were using this area. Finally you'll finish the attic vent with a vent system referred to as Cobra vent, and then finish it with top cap shingles. We try to color match any calking, tin work and exclusion work to make it merge in as if we have not had to fix the construction defects. We use paintable caulking, the silicon based calks will tinge over time.

I build my own one-way doors. After ten years of bat control, I came up with an easy effective one-way valve for bat removal. You can purchase commercially produced bat cones but I personally think they are too short and have no airflow at the base where it is attached to the structure. These one-way doors are left on for about two weeks, to let bats leave. Then I can remove the one-way door and then block the entrance. After the bats have exited through the one-way doors the bats will try for several nights to get back in, by looking for another entrance, this is why sealing every possible entrance needs to be done. This is how to evict bats.Find out more by reading our other articles on this topic and other subjects we have written related to it.

How to Get Rid of Squirrels

Is a Skunk That is Active During the Day Time Rabid?

Live Trapping Raccoons

Florida has a lot of bats! They thrive in Florida.

Some people are scared to death of bats. They creep many people right out. Even those of us that don't mind dealing with bats are entitled to an increased pulse rate when one is flying around our bedroom at 2:00 in the morning!

I am a bat removal expert. I have taken bats out of living rooms, bedrooms, basements and kitchens, walls, and attics. I work all hours of the day (and night!) and have seen people move right out of their home because a bat is flying around inside.

Unless a lone bat has accidentally flown in the house through an open door or window, chances are it is living in the walls or attic. Somehow it got confused, followed a fresh air current, and wound up in the living quarters. As much as people try to convince themselves that it is the only bat living in their home, chances are very good that there are more where that one came from. As you probably know, bats are friendly creatures and usually live in colonies. One bat does not make a colony!

As you can probably tell, my wildlife control company charges for bat inspections. We guide homeowners through the bat removal process and encourage them to save money by taking our recommendations and implementing them. Sometimes homeowners opt to do it all themselves and we are happy to guide them every step of the way. Other times, homeowners want us to do all the work. Either way, because of the detailed inspection that we have provided, they know every gap in their house that will be sealed.

Getting bats out of houses isn't rocket science. It is however a lot of work and takes time. If a bat has found its way inside your home, call a professional, get educated, and get the bats out!

Florida Critter Removal

from Palm Bay Florida Animal Pro http://palmbayanimal.pro/florida/animal-removal-malabar/ via http://palmbayanimal.pro