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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year ago

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Trimax Thoughts Vol. 3 Pt. 1

Some more miscellaneous thoughts. I realized it's actually more convenient to do these before any analysis because. Well. I actually haven't read this manga before. Why was I trying to do full analyses before just letting myself read it. Why am I a dumbass.

Anyways.

It's the repression my dude

(Ok but can we talk about how Wolfwood doesn't really lie and his eyes convey his emotions whether he wants it or not and he still feels strongly because that attachment keeps him going and then how Vash has had to withdraw and shove everything into a box somewhere deep inside him because he always has to maintain a distance and always has to leave aughhh)

Ohhhhh that part where Vash is able to tell exactly how many strikes are incoming... I love how he becomes really precise and calculating in a fight. It's a really great way to show the severity of a situation and his skill and experience! (Bonus points: he does this in Tristamp too - I still cannot get over the way the animators chose to have him move right before he pulls out his gun in ep 1 - I went on an unhinged ramble about that. He's always fluid and grounded. I adore those animators they did a fantastic job.)

!!! I think this is the first time we've actually seen Knives' face since the Fifth Moon Incident! ...there's something to examine in this.

Feral Wolfwood <3

Yikes. If we wanted more emphasis on the way a lot of people around Vash do not stop to consider the severity of death. The violence is so typical in this world it's treated as a scene from which one can be detached. Vash's honest distress and compassion as entertainment :(

Hey. What the fuck.

The baby with the gun would be a lot funnier if I didn't know what Leonof had to do to people to make his puppets.

SICK AND TWISTED. WTF.

Ok say what you will though but Leonof so far has been the only one of the GHG that I think actually understands the assignment. Like. Yeah, this sure is the way to fucking break the guy. What the hell.

Oh, Vash knows him? Maybe that's why Leonof knows how to hurt him so well...?

AUGH he had puppet Doc, who vouched for Vash earlier to Brad, call him a demon!!! This also means he was killed! WTF

AUGHHHH wolfwood :(((

Meryl and Milly I love you so so much

Whjfhbdsjfbhv??? Girl??????

Vash: *starts blaming himself* Luida: "no." Vash: "oh, ok." :(

Hair down Vash <3

I really love the way we find out a bit more about Vash in this chapter. Him taking Meryl and Milly to a special place that helps him relax and heal and feel closer to Rem, even if he doesn't quite tell them that's what it is. Meryl knowing it's important somehow anyways and feeling like she can see him a little more clearly. Wolfwood freaked the hell out by the idea that Vash is immortal, but instead of leaving it at his assumptions, he still goes to talk to Luida and ask questions, who immediately proceeds to emphasize how lonely yet kind he is. We learn a lot about Vash in this chapter without him actually revealing anything about himself directly - all through other people, and the impact he's made on them. And I like how even though we find out more and more the differences between human and whatever Vash actually is, we circle right back around to confirming what we already knew about him from the beginning - he's fundamentally a kind man with a lot of pain in his heart who always makes the active choice to be nice. Just. Agh.

Wolfwood, running while carting his stupid IV pole over his shoulder: "oh fuck I need to protect women (and Vash)"

Softest look I've ever seen. What.

But ohhh does this make me happy. Because he's spent this volume thinking Vash has no survival instinct because he's immortal, etc., which terrifies him because he cannot understand not fighting to survive. Vash's smile makes a comeback here, but he now understands that it's not just a mask, it is the way he fights to survive. That smile is Vash's struggle to live in the same way the violent struggle is his, and Wolfwood I think/hope is starting to realize again that the gap is not so wide between them. He's calmed enough to remember that he actually likes this guy. Augh.

#trigun #trimax #trigunbookclub #storyrambles #<- not as much this time i promise!

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drabbles-blurbs-words · 5 years ago

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Hold (Bakugou x femReader)

This is for my lovely lovely @bratwritings thanks for all the love and kindness! You have been a great friend and I enjoy our chatter and Bakugou talks.

I hope you enjoy this little drabble that got out of hand and is now a one-shot I guess.

@lady-bakuhoe, @bakugou-katsukisgf, and @jojosmilktea, I know you are bakugou stans so imma tag you in this :)

Warning: there’s cussing and some very mild violence.

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Uraraka wiggled her brows at you while Mina gave you a mischievous smile. Your face burned red as you tried to look away from the two girls. You wondered quietly what had gotten you in this situation… Oh right, wondering got you here. Your head was in the clouds lately, the scent of burnt sugar and the image of beautiful explosions the only thing that you could concentrate on. So, that left you here. Becoming the partner of the resident hot head. Apparently, no one else wanted to partner with him.

You pushed down the summersaults your belly was doing and turned towards the boy. He stood beside you; a bit too close for comfort. His crimson gaze met yours and a small frown pulled at his lips. You knew it was silly to fall for him, his demeanor was rough and callus. His temper ran hot like his explosions. And yet you couldn’t help it. His determination and prowess always shone through in times of trouble. His ability to actively protect and take down villains was something you both admired and envied. You looked at your hands and wondered if you’d ever be able to protect someone the way he did.

“Hey! Space cadet! Get a move on, will you!?” You nodded quickly as you noticed he had begun to walk away.

You looked at him as he trudged through the disaster area. Broken buildings and debris were scattered everywhere. You looked around carefully, wondering what you were supposed to be doing. You didn’t notice a pair of sharp eyes studying you.

It’s true that Bakugou’s only focus in life had been being the best at everything. He wanted to be the best hero, the best in training, and then the best at school. It was all he was focused on. Until you that is. Unbeknownst to you the boy had kept an eye on you ever since the USJ. When the Nomu had gone for him, he had heard your voice in the back of his head. Calling for him desperately. He saw the shimmer of light bending in front of him and hardening into what looked like glass. Even when All Might had pushed him away to safety, you had held on. Taking the hit for the hero and giving him a chance to recuperate and counter. Your limbs had trembled under the pressure. But your cracked barrier held. He saw when the blood began to trickle down your nose and one of your ears. He heard when Deku and Shitty hair begged you to stop. But you stood strong, you only let go when All Might leaped toward the villain. And then you fell.

After the incident he found his mind plagued by you. He wondered how strong you were, how much potential you had… and soon he began to wonder how your laughter sounded. How you would react to his stupid outbursts, if you would mind his sweaty hands. The thoughts that haunted him annoyed the boy to no end. And once his self-proclaimed friends had figured it out, he had no peace. The teasing was almost unbearable. Their wild claims of him being soft for you were ludicrous, and he would rather chew glass than admit that he would get caught staring at you. In fact, he would rather die than admit that his small like had grown into full blown disgusting love. He shouldn’t have picked you as a partner; the lovesick feeling in his chest would make him weak. He looked back at your soft cheeks and grimaced. You were lost in your own little world. Hair falling lazily around your face and an absentminded look in your eye. He cursed himself a thousand times when he felt his heart try to beat itself out of his chest. He was getting too soft.

“Hey… what are we supposed to do?” You asked gently as you watched the buildings around you.

“Tch. You didn’t pay attention, did you, dumbass?” you forced yourself to look away in embarrassment, unable to admit you were daydreaming again.

He hid his blush behind a scowl as he snuck a peak at you. Your pink lips were pulled into a pout and he wondered how they would feel against his. It should be illegal for you to be that fucking cute. He observed you carefully as you fidgeted with your hands. He missed the fire in your eyes. The look you got when you protected him, and All Might from the monster. The look you got when you stood up for your friends or faced someone down in the sports festival. He wanted to see the fire in your eyes there all the time. He pushed his pride down and decided for once to actually do the damn exercise.

“We’re supposed to be partners, we’re going against Raccoon eyes and Icy-hot.” He grunted and started untying a bandanna from his belt. “We have to defend this for 15 minutes, so you should have it.” He grit his teeth as he swallowed his desire for the spotlight.

“Oh…” you looked at the thing like it was something alien.

“Take it, dumbass.”

“I think you should have it though…” He raised a brow at you, and you looked away, “You’re faster, and stronger. I can just put up walls… So, it would be better if you had it.” You shrugged.

“You're ridiculous, you make domes too… and I bet you can do more if you stop being stupid.” he scowled deeply at you and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “If you make a dome around yourself, I’ll protect it.”

“But 15 minutes is a lot and I don’t know if I can hol-“

“Stop that!” He growled. “I saw you take a hit from that stupid Nomu. And even if you can’t hold, no one is going to get through me. Got it! I’ll protect you.”

He was almost snarling at you by the end, as he shoved the bandanna into your chest. Despite the roughness from his tone you couldn’t help but feel the warmth that flooded you. You slowly nodded as you felt his reassurance seep into your bones. He smirked as he saw the effect his words had on you. Bakugou felt himself warm at the idea of him giving you strength. You saw his gaze soften on you and felt yourself almost drown in it. You were about to take the bandanna when your instincts flared, and a large clear wall burst to life as you lifted your hand. Acid sizzled against your barrier as Bakugou took a step back. He watched as fire suddenly began to assault the wall, one look at your face made his stomach drop. You were grimacing. How much were your barriers connected to you, he wondered. He should have asked.

You felt something quickly loop itself around your arm and looked at the boy beside you. Determination on his face as he tied the stupid thing. You went to protest, to ask him to stop and run away. But he silenced you. He kissed the shoulder where he had tied the bandanna and gave you a feral grin that made your insides melt.

“Let’s do this!” He growled huskily.

You felt like your brain had short circuited. You didn’t feel when his arm went around you, nor did you react when he launched you back. You landed on your butt and watched as the feral boy stood tall in front of your barrier.

“Make yourself a bubble and drop the wall.” You immediately obeyed and saw him leap at the others.

You observed in awe as he fought Mina and Todoroki at the same time. He was using his explosions to dodge Mina’s acid and Todoroki’s Ice and fire attacks. He tried to get some blasts in but the most he could do was break some of Todoroki’s Ice before Mina was on him again and he had to dodge. You stayed in the bubble you had made, you watched as time passed and Bakugou began to slow. Worry began to eat at you as you saw Todoroki finally catch one of his legs in the ice. Mina smirked as she began making her way towards you and you faltered as Bakugou desperately began to try and blow the ice away. But Todoroki was smart and each time Bakugou would destroy his trap, Todoroki would remake it over his legs. Bakugou tried to blast the boy but he would just protect himself with more ice.

His eyes met yours and you felt your heart break. Guilt and worry laced his gaze, but you weren’t having that. You frowned at yourself and slowly stood. How pathetic could you be? He trusted you to keep the bandanna safe but was taking the brunt of everything. As if you were helpless. You weren’t someone to protect. You were the shield and he was the spear. You were the protector.

You dropped your dome as fast as you could and began running towards Bakugou. His eyes widened when he saw you take the offensive for the first time. You stretched out your hand and just as Mina’s acid was going to hit you, a small barrier shielded you from the girl’s attack. You dodged and shielded yourself as best you could until you felt your frustration begin to boil. You rolled away from another attack and watched Todoroki desperately light himself up. You needed to get to him.

Bakugou saw the moment the fire within you began to burn wildly. Your eyes were sharp as you dodged and shielded yourself from the pink girl. His eyes followed your movements carefully, but a crackling noise distracted him. Todoroki was about to blast him with fire, trying to knock him out. He cursed at himself as he decided he would have to blast himself out even if it meant hurting himself and possibly you. He grit his teeth and braced himself as he saw the red flames approach but found he didn’t need it. The flames dissipated right in front of him as they hit a barrier. You stood beside the blonde boy, a dome encircling both of you.

“Get yourself out.” You gasped out sharply as you held on to the walls you built.

Fire, ice, and acid tried to break down the dome. Cracks began to appear as Bakugou blasted the ice around his legs. He broke out of the trap and watched as you braced yourself for another hit. He snarled when he saw the pain on your face and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Let go of the barrier!” He shouted over the sound of the flames hitting your wall.

“No, you ass! Let me protect you!”

“The fuck?! Just do it, you idiot. Drop it! Trust me, dammit!” He snarled.

His blazing red eyes burned into your soul and you found yourself nodding slowly at him.

“On three….” He muttered and tightened his grip on you. “one… two…. THREE!”

A deafening explosion surrounded you as you felt yourself let go of your quirk. The wind whipped past your face as you flew across the training grounds. Panic settled in as you realized the boy had only one arm available which meant a very rough landing. You held your breath and closed your eyes, concentrating on your quirk and feeling it ripple over you and hopefully the boy. You began to build, for the first time, a complete bubble. Your head began to hurt, and you felt something cold drip from your nose as arms tightened around you and you felt yourself bounce. Your body rolled and your head felt light as slowly but surely the bubble you had created began to stop.

Bakugou felt dizzy, you both had been thrown around inside the bubble you had created as you both bounced and rolled to a stop. You must have looked like hamsters in a ball. Bakugou lifted himself a bit, feeling the weight of your body on him. He felt like shit and was sure he didn’t look any better. He was about to bark at you when he realized you were too still. He took your form into his arms and sat up. Your eyes were half lidded and dazed. Your barrier was cracked in so many places as it held you both safe and sound. He could see some blood begin to drip down your nose. He prayed that the time had finally run out, as he saw your arm and the bandanna still in place. But his prayers went unanswered. Todoroki and Mina were approaching, and you looked like hell. He couldn’t let you take more hits, he needed to protect you.

“Hey, dumbass. Drop the barrier!” You felt his arms tighten around you.

You shook your head slowly and gave him a small smile, you took one of his explosive hands and pressed it to your cheek deliriously. You placed a sloppy kiss in the palm of his glove. He felt himself become hot as he met your tired eyes, a thousand unspoken emotions gazed back at him.

“I’ll hold…” You barely whispered as you wobbly sat up against the boy. “I can hold…”

You raised an arm over your head and the cracks slowly disappeared, as you reinforced what was left of the bubble you made. You didn’t notice the large hand lacing itself with yours. Spots had begun to dance around your vision as fire and acid tried to hit you two again. Arms held up your sagging body as unintelligible and desperate pleading met your ears. The familiarity of the voice spurred you further… although it did make your heart hurt a bit. But you held on, you held on until you felt yourself begin to fall further, and in the distance a buzzard finally rang. Relief flooded your tired body and you finally let go, trusting that the strong arms around you would protect you as you sank into the darkness.

You woke up to warmth and a familiar sweet scent enveloping you. Bleary eyes squinted against the brightness as you lifted yourself up. There was a weight on your lap and when you looked down you felt like you were about to die. The soreness in your body was quickly forgotten as you saw who laid in your lap. Bakugou sat on a chair beside the bed and was resting on your thighs. You felt your breath catch at the peaceful expression he wore. Before you could think it through, you threaded your fingers into his hair and relished the soft feeling. It was short lived though, his hand had grabbed your wrist and a hard glare was sent your way.

Bakugou felt himself burn in anger, feeling you collapse against him. Watching you get hurt for him, was excruciating. Even if he knew it was an exercise, even when he knew you’d be okay… It felt as if he had somehow lost you. For the first time in his life, it didn’t matter to him that you two had won. He felt like he failed to protect you. And as he held your unconscious and bloodied form in his arms, he realized that for once his annoying friends were right. Unfortunately for him, he isn’t good with words and the asshole in him had to make an appearance.

“What the hell do you think you were doing!” He burst from the chair and stood tall, fists shaking as his gaze scorched you.

“I was trying to protect-“

“Protect what! I don’t need YOU protecting ME, dammit!” You flinched at his volume. “I can protect myself! I can protect YOU! Fuck! Don’t you trust me?!”

You felt a fire ignite in you as you felt his anger and disdain grow towards you. The boy you had grown to love hated you and you couldn’t take it. You felt your heart shatter into pieces as you tried to explain yourself.

“Of course, I trust you! I just… I just…” and the damn broke, “I wanted to be useful too!!! I want to be strong too!!!” A ragged breath left you as you tried to form coherent sentences. “I can protect you, too. I MAKE SHIELDS FOR FUCKS SAKE!!! I CAN SAVE YOU TOO!” your vision had become blurry as tears threatened to fall. “I don’t need you saving me either, I’m not weak!” your shoulders drooped.

“I’m a hero too…” You whimpered.

You could see Bakugou’s glare intensify. His brows furrowed as you felt the tears begin to fall.

“Dammit…” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you aren’t weak, okay? I just…” You looked at him puzzled, as hot tears raced down your face.

“Fuck it.”

He scowled deeply as he roughly climbed into the small bed you were in. Confusion filled your brain to capacity, you tried to process what was happening but you could only concentrate on him. He was almost on top of you. His body an inch from crushing you.

His toned arms held you in a vice like grip as you both laid in the small infirmary bed. His arms constricted almost painfully around you as he pulled himself closer to you. Your arms slowly reciprocated, and soon you found yourself melting into his embrace and warmth. Nuzzling yourself into the crook of his neck as you breathed in his soothing scent. Smoke, spices, and something sweet but all him. Legs tangled together as you drowned in his heat and soon you were breathing softly again. Tears already forgotten on your cheeks. You felt Bakugou move and met his eyes. He looked anxious, scared even. And before you could ask what was troubling him, he broke your heart and mended it in one breath.

“I just… don’t want to see the person I love get hurt…” his voice was low and so unlike him.

A gasp left your lips as you pulled him impossibly closer and tangled your hands in his hair. You turned your head to kiss his cheek and felt him exhale in relief. A massive weight had been lifted from his heart. You tangled yourself further into his embrace and kissed the side of his head. You leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

“I don’t want you hurt either… I… want to protect the person I love too.”

Strong arms tightened around you, and for once you weren’t the one holding on.

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

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How about modern Steggy meeting at Pride? Both bi, but that's not why she's there, she's there cause her young child is trans and she's not letting them grow up ashamed of this ("Even if it does turn out to be a temporary questioning 'phase', I won't let them ever be ashamed of being who they are."). Cause like 10 year old Carter child who's a little antsy to be there, Peggy with bi-pride tipped curls, and Steve with the trans flag painted on his cheek

OP YOUR MIND!! They would fiercely protect the Carter Child, not that Steve thinks she can’t do it, but he’s downright feral at times when it comes to kids in danger. This might not be what you had in mind, so I do apologize. This got ahead of me is quite long.

“Ignore them,” Bucky breathed in Steve’s ear, tugging on the blonde’s hand to get him away from the protesters that are somehow legally allowed here. This was borderline abuse if you asked him. Sure, freedom of speech but it was quickly cut off when you yelled at children and elderly people for being themselves.

Steve growled under his breath and tugged his hand away from Bucky’s, careful not to touch the drying trans flag painted across his cheek. Natasha would be furious if he messed up her work. Or touch the chalk-dye of the flag in his hair.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, despite Bucky didn’t look like he’d believed him. The guy stood out like a Christmas tree, literally with the bi flag colors wrapped around the metallic arm and shining bright enough to land a plane. “Just go find Clint, I’m going to walk off. Need to cool down.”

Before the man could say a thing, Steve was stomping off, in midst of the crowd to get away from his rightfully worried, best friend.

The last he expected was when he emerged from the other side of the crowd was to be tackled-hug by a ten-year-old child with bright hazel eyes, a buck-tooth grin, the same colors in his hair dyed on their hair, and wearing a shirt that read, ‘i’m the trans kid your parents warned you about.’

Steve fell to his backside to avoid instinct-wise to protect himself, an arm wrapped around the kid to prevent any of them from being trampled over by the crowds rushing from one stand to another.

“You’re Captain Ameria!” The kid sat upon his chest, still bright-eyed, kneeling rather painfully. “You’re Steve Rogers! I did reports about you.” They were actively bouncing up and down and Steve was doing his best to school the pain the sharp knees caused.

“I am,” he grunted. “Can we keep it to a whisper, son? It’s a secret.” He pressed his finger to his lips to indicate hush, hush until he saw the kid’s eyes widen and go glassy. “Oh no, no. Hey, hey, did I say something wrong?” He sat up and the kid latched on, imitating what Steve imagine what it was like to hug a Khola.

His arms wrapped around the kid and gently held them close, kissing their temple in a show of calming them down. What could he say? He still had parental instinct installed in him from his mother.

He could feel the kid’s sobs against his chest, feel their fingers dig into his shirt, refusing to let go while he tried to calm them down. If anyone noticed Captain America clinging to a sobbing kid, no one stopped to say a thing.

“Michael?! Michael!”

A breathless woman with flushed cheeks, the same brown eyes, and her hair dyed in the bi flag colors scrambles to them. She drops to her knees beside them and slides the last few steps, looking from her child to Steve.

“I-I don’t know -” Steve breathed, a panic looked etched on his face. “They tackled me and I-I fell and-and accidentally said son, a-a force of habit and they started crying. Did I say the wrong thing?”

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition as to who Steve was before her face softened, tenderly laying a hand on the back of Michael’s hair and stroking it out of the way. “No,” she breathed. “No, you said the right thing. The perfect thing for them to hear. They ideologize you and always have. I guess seeing you here is...well, overwhelming. Michael, love, we got to let the Captain go.”

Slowly peeling away from him, the kid sniffles and rubs at their face, smearing the flag’s paint without realizing it. His face is flushed and eyes red, with tears still in them. He looks almost ashamed as he climbs from Steve’s lap to his mom’s. He could hear the murmurs of an apology.

“Hey now,” Steve breathed, fully sitting up now. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” He can’t help himself in tossing the guy’s hair and wiping away a stray tear. It makes the kid smile, at least. “You were just excited and overwhelmed, there’s a big crowd here today, huh? And I guess...me calling you son didn’t help did it? Just burst that bubble.” When the kid flushed, Steve just gave a helpless smile. “When my ma first called me Steve, I cried so hard I managed to throw myself into a panic attack.”

“I bet that did nothing to help the asthma,” the mother muses, giving Steve a fond smile. At Steve’s surprised look, she shrugs. “I might be a Brit, but I grew up on your story, Mr. Rogers. I’m Peggy, by the way. This is Michael.”

Steve shakes their hand and nods. “No, it didn’t. Managed to give myself a nose bleed too. It’s good to meet you two. Here, let’s get up before we’re trampled.” Getting the pair off of the ground, Steve brushes the grass stains off of their clothes out of habit. “I take it it’s your first pride?”

“For both of us,” Peggy muses, kissing her embarrassed son’s cheek. “Michael wanted to go to his first pride since coming out and I wasn’t going to tell him no. We’ve already been yelled at by them.” The tone alone tells Steve well enough who them is.

“Tell me about it. I’ve already gotten into two screaming matches before my friends had to drag me away.”

“That was you? Crickey, no wonder people looked nervous. Well, yes they’ve called me quite a few names already. Child abuser. Pedophile. Rapist. Disgusting, barbaric group.” She sets Michael down and hugs him close to her frame. “Even if this is a phase, I don’t care. I’m going to support and love my child regardless. They do not deserve to be ashamed of themselves.”

Steve’s eyes fall to Michael whose still staring up at him like he’s the moon and stars and it makes him both antsy and warms his heart. “I wish I had that line of thinking,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Not that I’m ashamed of who I am, anyone with the right knowledge can research about me, history can’t erase that forever, but...the backlash one could’ve received in my time...it leaves a mark on you.”

It was a struggle in his mentality. Steve supported, openly every LGBT organization, spoke out against protestors, and haters. Donated large, marginal amounts of money, but when it came to speaking about his struggle and making an ‘official’ public remark? That’s when he backed out.

“But Mr - Captain…” Michael sputtered, tugging on Steve’s shirt.

“Steve.”

“S-Steve.” He was still breathy from the crying spell but his excitement to get to call his obvious hero by his name was etched into his face. “There are lots and lots and lots of people who would be happy to know that you’re like us too! You might get people mad at you but then they weren’t fans of you in the first place if they don’t support your decision. I know lots of my friends would know and be happy to know that you’re a-a-a trans guy like me!”

Well, what in the hell could he say to that? He looked from the smart kid up to his mother who just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “He’s right, you know?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do. I think you’re right, Michael, I shouldn’t hide who I am. Been asleep far too long and I think I got work to do to fix this mess.” He paused for a moment, reaching into his jeans to hand Peggy a business card [Tony’s idea] with a hologram of himself in his uniform and saluting, his name and personal number on the back.

“Call me tonight? I want to talk to you about this. I have to go.”

His eyes flew to something past the pair and Peggy’s neck craned to see over the crowd, clicking her tongue as she spotted what Steve had seen.

If it was just her, she’d help, but Michael was here and perhaps didn’t need to see his hero fighting a bunch of bigots. He was still quite sensitive to violence, the poor thing.

“Okay,” she agreed, scooping her son up and tucking his head into her neck. “You go do that.” She paused to kiss his cheek. “And be safe, please.”

That’s how, two days later, Steve finds himself standing in the very park Pride had taken place, on the portable stage with his team behind him. He still sported a black eye, almost healed but the remains of a yellow bruise were still there. His ribs ached from being kicked, but he was still standing. It was on the news for days how Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton ruthlessly attacked a bunch of peaceful protesters.

Peaceful, my ass.

They didn’t see the symbols they carried, the signs, the proud man who stood in front of them? Steve wasn’t standing in 2013 anymore, he was in 1943 and standing before a german officer, wearing the same grin on his face. He knew his choices, the power of his voice, and money, and knew them well. He also knew what the other side of Steve’s fist felt like against his jaw.

“They were Nazis,” he tells Tony over dinner, rolling his eyes. Peggy’s on speaker between them, having just gotten done lecturing him. “I don’t give two shits what the media says.”

“Language,” Peggy muses, though Steve can hear the smile in her voice. “I have a son.”

“Whose asleep,” Tony interjects. “Cursing is allowed when the kidlets are asleep.”

“Says you.”

Steve rolls his eyes at them and downs the rest of his beer. “Pepper is gonna smooth it out, anyhow. I’m not making some public statements on how sorry I am ‘cause I ain’t. Don’t show up to an event and not expect a backlash. They’re lucky that’s all we did was break a few bones. Maybe it’ll teach ‘em next time. Besides, they attacked us. We gave them clear enough warning not to touch us.”

They had formed a barricade, protect those Pride Idiots from charging inside while the cops did nothing. Even Tony had to call in a few suits and help, Pepper immediately on the scene with her trusted news crew.

“I ain’t worried about it,” He continues, shrugging.

“Spoken like a true American,” Peggy teases, making Steve flush. “So have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?”

Tony’s staring at him from across the way, Steve’s started to nervously play with the end of his binder. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, I have. I’ll call you with the details.”

Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, Steve’s eyes scan the crowd. He knows there are a few of those Pride Boys out there, but he can’t make them out. He doesn’t care to. They wouldn’t dare to attack a stage when Captain America stands in full uniform and his team behind him. Pepper had brought out her news crew again, live broadcasting this emergency meeting, as well as a few other news sources.

She’s smiling at him from the side, giving him the thumbs up.

Steve’s eyes fall to Bucky whose gotten up with Clint and stood beside him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “About time you’re doing this, though you owe Dugan 50 quid for this,” Bucky teases, leaning up to just barely kiss Steve’s cheek in a public display of affection. “I’m proud of you.”

Clint’s beside them, towering over Bucky, holding the life out of Bucky’s flesh hand and pulling him close. His head tilts to the side and signs to Steve, asking if he’s ready.

Steve nods, his eyes finally falling to the two people who got this started. Peggy Carter and her son. Michael runs up to him from the side of the stage when they arrive, climbing onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s always belonged there. Steve can’t help the laugh he lets out as he grips Michael’s legs around his chest to keep him secure. Peggy, for her own sake, smiles as she stands beside Steve, Bucky moving over to let her get closer.

“Alright,” He sighs into the microphone, perhaps too close. “Let’s get this over with.” He pauses, counts his heartbeats, feeling them in his throat. “It goes without saying, who I am and whose in my company, but I think we need to make some personal facts clear in the light of recent news.”

He stills and takes in a sharp breath, eyes scanning the vast crowd before he feels Peggy’s hand on the small of her back.

“My name is Steve Rogers and I am a transgender guy.” There’s a mixture of stilled silence and gasp throughout the crowd, followed by intense murmurs. Yet no one raises their hand or shouts questions. Pepper has these guys whipped. Good.

“That might come as a surprise to some of you and regardless of your personal opinion, I do not care. Let me restate that, I do not care if you support me or don’t. I want one fact and one fact made clear, if you decide to attack me, my friends, or anyone for being who in the hell they are, no amount of legal fear and paperwork will stop me from doing what I think is right to rectify that situation.”

“I was thankful to have heavy support during my time serving, before, and after, and even waking up here. It was recently brought to my attention as to what me coming out officially could do for the young LGBT youth and I am only sorry it’s taken this long for me to realize it.”

“To be fair,” Peggy muses. “You’ve been a little busy.”

Steve laughs, unable to help himself. “A tad bit.” He squeezes her to his side and presses a small kiss to her temple. “Now,” he speaks into the microphone. “If anyone else is curious, I’m bisexual too. And in this recent news, my team and I have gotten together to design a program to help the LGBT youth seek the sanctuary they deserve. This means after school programs for all ages, cafes, safe bars, book stores, all opened 24/7 to offer them help. There are homeless shelters in place that will help the youth kicked out, programs we’re establishing to help with anything from name changes to hormones, to funds to get back on their feet. Counseling as well for any who wish to seek it. Adoptive parents who figuratively would want to ‘adopt’ and assist the youth.”

“Who’s paying for all this?! It sounds like -”

The reporter, someone in the midst of the crowd, that Steve can’t see is instantly shut up when Clint charges off the stage and heads in his direction and pulls the man up to his feet by the collar of his neck.

“Who in the hell do you think is?” He snaps. “I wish these programs were around when I was a kid, then maybe I wouldn’t had destroyed my body using makeshift binders that hurt me. These kids, adults, whatever will get the help they need. If you have a problem with it, then I suggest you shut the hell up.”

“Thanks, Clint,” Steve breathes, jerking his head at Bucky to go get his boyfriend. “In a better sense of words, I am. Now, any questions?”

There’s a hell of a lot of questions that go over Steve’s head.

When did your name change? What’s in your pants? Did you have surgery? Did you have bottom surgery? Is that kid yours? Are they paying you to say this?

There’s plenty of statements too, raging from support but more often protest and the second it gets rowdy, it’s put to a stop when Natasha and Tony are strolling around the crowd.

Bucky and Michael are right - this is a long time coming. The youth, the people of today deserved to know who Steve truly was. Not that he’s ever denied himself. They deserve to know that he would do anything to protect them, even if it involves a few legal cases of punching a Nazi here or there.

Michael was certainly right, the youth of today deserved to know who had their back, and how proud he was to come home one day and run straight into Steve’s arms while his mum was at work, to tell him how he stood up to his bully and made sure the substitute teacher called him by his real name and how he got to tell them that his new dad was Captain America.

#Steggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Bisexual Peggy Carter #Bisexual Steve Rogers #Bisexual Bucky Barnes #Transguy Clint #Transguy Steve Rogers #Peggy's lil kid is trans too #tw transphobia #tw slurs #I hope this doesn't offend anyone somehow #despite being trans i tried to write this carefully too

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chefjarredjarred · 4 years ago

Text

Anxiety. (excerpt)

People. “They're the worst,” Jerry once concurred with Elaine. And they are.

So I didn't really want a job as a verification specialist for a background check company, making a hundred phone calls a day to anywhere in the country, but there was a time when it was a job I needed; it was remote so I could do it from my living room, it supplemented my main income from cooking and barbacking, and I was allowed to adjust my own schedule around that other work and my Tuesday morning therapy sessions.

But Jesus Christ, the people: the combative, the confused, the cavalier, the crotchety; the mousy, the crazy, the stupid, the lazy; the disgruntled, the bitter, the hateful, the bossy; the scammers, the liars, the paranoid; the unintelligible, or, through no fault of their own, the foreign; the mouth breathers, the assholes; the fast food workers, who are always a grab bag. I got them all, every day. And just one nice old lady from Florida, Ms. Charlene.

I got the job in part by cherry-picking some of my old chef experience and molding it all up into a wad of passable bullshit in the interview. Not lies, you know, just bullshit. I sold the personal importance of always speaking concisely and effectively, and of remaining cool and courteous and logical even when being angrily berated by the most ignorant, disrespectful know-nothings. Okay, so that one tiny lie. I made no mention of smashing saucers, slinging sheet pans, or every chef's favorite, smiting servers. (But come on, FOH, y'all know when you're asking for it.) I gave no indication that my rage, anxiety, and feelings of undeserved victimhood and exhaustion were a nest of coiled snakes, something every person who has ever worked in a kitchen around me could sense. Do your job, leave the attitude outside the kitchen doors, and speak only of pith and pertinence during service. Don't fuck with me, don't get fanged.

A bartender I worked with for years once called me unapproachable. It was in the same breath that she called me a dick, proving that the robotic personality of feigned professionalism and phony positivity (every company has their Stepford Wives, don't they?) on which she prided herself—loathed by so many in the restaurant—could be cracked, and I loved that I had been the one to do it. But the part about being a dick wasn't a bold quotable. My being unapproachable became a favorite running joke for years, perverted and perpetuated by me. Y'all think I'm unapproachable? I am. Fuck off.

But that's truncated, for effect and time. Fuck off, I have a job to do, is the real, full statement, and a linchpin tenet of my style of cheffing. I don't need loud voices, loud noises, disrespect, emotional clouding, confusion, excuses, etc., or that irritable anxiety snake could be disturbed. “Just the facts, ma'am.” There's just no time for the extraneous.

Don't disrupt the flow of food.

That's the principle I emphasized in the interview, just folded into the bullshit wad that made it applicable to phoning idiotic, ornery strangers—and Ms. Charlene. Obviously, I had to omit the venom, violence, viciousness, the vitriol. There was already a tiny stumble in there when the interviewer asked if I would describe myself as an introvert, and I, being honest to a fault at the most inappropriate moments, confessed that I would.

“You do know what this job is, right?”

I actually didn't, right up until about two seconds before that question, but I recovered gracefully, explaining some crap about being able to turn on the smiles and pleasantries when I meant business, something like that.

Fake smiles. Ugh. God dammit. I actively campaign against them. A fake smile is the opposite of Fuck off, of the pith and pertinence, the order and efficiency I expected, of just the facts. It's a capitulation, a white flag.

You know what I absolutely hate more than people? The expectation that I'm obligated to give them a fake smile. It's a banner that says you're willing to accept the extraneous, the unexpected, that whatever they are about to say and the way they will say it has some compelling power over you, and that you have all the time in the world to stand there and graciously let it be unloaded onto you. That your anxiety is not there and not real.

That you are approachable.

Fake smiles are blood in the water. That's right, when it goes from snakes to sharks.

“What we always say here is 'Smile and dial!'”

It was a virtual interview, and he couldn't see or hear my feet double-kick-drumming the floor. But what he did hear and what I couldn't believe was the fake laugh I forced through my fake smile. Jesus, Jarred, you're escalating? Allowance is support. “Sure, sure,” I said, as if I were a lifelong brown-noser. You're a disgrace.

“If you can run a kitchen, I have no doubt that you can do this.”

I didn't either. That's misinformation, that anxiety is simply fear. I wasn't afraid I would fail (literally anyone, barring anxiety, can be a verification “specialist”). In fact, I was totally confident I could succeed...theoretically. He said it: If I could run a kitchen, I could do this. The things that worried me were the scheduling, sleeping, caffeinating, eating, speaking, putting on my fake personality with my fake smile, and juggling and maintaining it all every day without falter, without letting on that there was any internal difficulty. I worried not about my actual job performance, but how I might struggle to simultaneously perform and hide my character flaws, i.e. the stuff that I left hanging out in the open when I was a chef. Does that make any sense?

Anxiety, not fear.

So the job was simple, but not easy, and there was a lot to make an anxious person anxious: the people, of course; the never-ending flood of calls; the quick navigating of the system when someone backpedaled or said something inaccurate or swung their mood in an instant; the software glitches; the hold music. Every second of the workday, even your coffee-caused poop break, was timed and factored in to your production average. You were judged and graded by making a ton of calls and/or closing as many cases as you could, which sounds fine, but is actually decided by chance more than some mathematical guarantee. That angered me the most, watching my closes and “touches” tabulated throughout the day, working against each other, my percentage of success being stretched thinner and thinner as I piled up calls that became mere touches rather than closes. It was the opposite of what we really wanted, and the secret little opposite of what we were trained to believe. The pessimist in me knew that the given goals were just out of reach, of course, so we would unknowingly meet the real goals and feel worthless at the end of the day, like we hadn't done enough. The realist in me hated the pretending that we had any control over it. The fatalist in me knew that it didn't matter, but could not force the crippled, anxious existentialist in me to just shut the fuck up.

...Oh, there is no optimist in here, if you were waiting for it.

I knew the fatalist was right after a sweet, timid childcare worker put me on hold to find something useful for me, which would only be a different number or a different person or, if life were easy, the name of a recognized third party verification website. This was 10:40 in the morning, in my first hour of the workday that was already a little too unfruitful. I watched the timer tick away, and when she returned, she had found...an unrecognized third party verification website. That meant I had to type a message into our Teams chat to request a supervisor's review and approval to put the name of the website in the little box and move to the next call.

Eight minutes had now passed as I waited for an answer. I had let the worker, Taylor, hang up already so she could get her eyes back on what wild heathens she may have had under her watch. It was a personal rule of mine to never hold restaurant workers or childcare workers hostage on the phone, because their work was more important than mine. I thought about the time my mom came to pick me up from one of these daycare facilities, walking in at the same time as another little boy's father, together to catch the perfect and precise moment that I socked that boy right across his jaw with full force, superhero super-spinning into that punch in defiance of his superior strength and grip of my head as he had tried to slam my skull into a wooden shelf for a second time. We were bloody, snotty, and sweaty in the throes of killer instinct, but I still caught the looks of horror on our parents' faces. Why the fistfight happened, I don't remember, but how? Well, because someone who was supposed to be paying attention, wasn't. Kids will go feral and push the boulder on Piggy as soon as your back is turned. I let Taylor off the phone for that reason. I waited for a supervisor's response in the chat, watching the seconds count on and that first hour, and thus the rest of my day and any hope of average achievement, drift away from me. They told me the site was no good and I needed to call poor Taylor back and try again. I sighed, copied the number and clicked the button, explained to her what was happening, and with real politeness she placed me, again, on hold. She came back with a phone number but the same uncertainty.

But in the chat, a supervisor had offered another phone number, different from what I was now taking down on the call. I was urged to try that one instead, so I let Taylor go back to the children a final time, and made my third phone call of the case. An automated message finally pointed me to a recognized third party verification website, and gave the particular employer code needed to access it. The anxiety snake and the rage snake were waking and knotted. I clicked the Other Automated Method button...and the system skipped on to complete the case, without letting me input the website or the code. “No, hell no.” I backed up and tried again. Same result, the skip. I went back to the chat and explained, and typed “Can someone please help me before my head explodes” with no punctuation.

A supervisor called me, and I shared my screen with her. “Let's see what happ—Oh, the client put it on hold, so just exit. It doesn't matter.”

It doesn't matter.

11:01. One close, 13 touches. I was white hot.

The anxiety, the rage, the pessimism, realism, fatalism, the whole nest of snakes was awake and wiggling, tossing, tangling themselves up like a... Well, you know. Like a rubber-band ball. I violently ripped the headset off of me, pushing breath through my teeth like the snarling little Jarred who punched that stupid kid in the mouth in the daycare brawl. I thought about that famed image of the snake eating its tail, whatever it's called. I thought about quitting. I thought about how two days before, my therapist and I had tried to come up with a suitable and available grounding technique I could try to prevent this exact, inevitable moment, this kind of anxiety attack. I thought about telling her how I thought that I was failing at everything. You're a disappoi— Shut the fuck up, Jarred—

It doesn't matter? I thought about that, that every moment of the day was part of the calculation of my performance grade for something ultimately shrugged off. That I spent 20 fucking minutes wasting my fucking time to get something that doesn't fucking matter but earns for me a judgment as if it does fucking matter.

But I thought about how I needed that little bit of extra money, and the other reasons for seeking and taking the job. Breathe, Jarred.

And that was not an isolated incident. Every day I fought for the energy and will to tether myself with the headset, log in, and hear the first ring. It came immediately, every single morning. I'd close my eyes and siiiigh through that first ring, just before being snatched along and pummeled by the frenzy.

I tried earnestly the smile-and-dial one time. I felt like Nicolas Cage in one of those especially wacky scenes of Face/Off. A total psycho, unhinged.

The calls were recorded and scrutinized, for quality and legality, and a handful a month were sent back to me to review whatever I had done wrong, or what I could do better.

Ah, yes. So there was another itchy, irritating thread of anxiety even on the less violent days.

Do you ever hear your own recorded voice and you hate yourself and wish you had never been born? Yeah, me too. So I only ever listened to one call and that was enough of that. I didn't want to hear myself. That voice wasn't mine, it was some cartoon-like, nasally Billy Bob Thornton's voice, reverberating somewhere way up high in the sinuses.

A hundred calls a day is a lot of talking. I began obsessing over how I pronounce—among many other things—the number four. There were fours everywhere, embedded, like chocolate chips in cookie dough, throughout almost every case number, and in our callback number I had to recite on dozens of voicemails per day. I wondered if I could trust my own ears in hearing the way I would say it, or if in reality I sounded like I was four. Fohwuh. Every day I ran this mental gamut of self-critique and insult, concentrating insanely on the most minute and deliberate flicks and curls of my tongue and lips. Any word becomes weirdly unnatural when you pay such specific attention to it. But I put so much (too much) effort into working on a competent phone voice not only so I wouldn't sound like a jackass, but so I could be efficient in my work and thus keep up with the production quota. I needed 20 touches an hour, not 13, so I needed people to understand me so I could get in, get out, and get on the next call. My strategy was to try and emulate the radio voice of Christopher Kimball—polite, proper, pronounced, professional. In my dirty pajamas, sitting on a lumpy pillow on a hand-me-down office chair as it was clawed to pieces by my screaming cats, I wanted to sound like I was wearing a bow tie. Like I was in a real office without cats, with a real college degree framed proudly on the wall. Polished and prepared.

It's hard work, if you can imagine. I'm not a talker. I don't like strangers. They're unpredictable. Any unexpected wrench in the routine could prove how fragile the facade is, that I'm actually a wobbly stack of quivering, anxious gremlins pretending to be a presentable person in, I guess, an imaginary bow tie.

It's hard work, if you'll let me say that again. But I thought I was doing pretty well. I hadn't cussed anyone out and I hadn't hurled the computer through the window, at least.

Then one day I called an office in Shelby, North Carolina. A woman answered, lazily, and I stated my reason for calling. She just said, “Hold on,” dismissively, with no practiced professionalism whatsoever. There's a lot of that out there. A rare treat then it was when I spoke with anyone trying to exude the same level of maturity as I, during business hours. My Kimball voice was for your benefit, lady. You didn't care. I know this because instead of really putting me on hold, instead of pressing a button to leave me in that telephonic waiting area listening to one of those overused cheap songs, like the one with the incessant MIDI claps that makes my toes tense and my teeth clench and jarringly reminds me that the anxiety is always bang-bang-banging at the door of the closet I locked it in, instead of just conducting two seconds of mundane business like a normal goddamn person, this woman just set the phone down on her desk and, evidently sickened beyond composure, blurted to her coworker, “God, I hate when someone clears their throat while I'm on the phone with them.” I did?

There I was, exposed, a bunch of phlegmy gremlins, collapsing and scrambling. Instantly I remembered the time my dad and stepmom asked me if I was on some kind of drug, because I cleared my throat “a lot.” Yeah, I don't know what they were talking about either, but apparently this involuntary habit is remarkably frequent. And a hundred calls a day I was doing this. How many of these people find me disgusting, inhuman, or think I'm on drugs? How about people in everyday life? Do my friends mock me? Who taught you how to function, Jarred? My mind spiraled, the snakes squirmed and seethed.

The rest of the phone call was stiff and clumsy, tears welling like a porn star's while I silently packed down the coughs and chokes congesting behind whatever ball of bile bottlenecking at the back of my throat, because I should die right on the living room carpet, sacrificial and blue, lest I irk this absolute cuntbag's social sensitivities, gurgling grotesque and oozing disease.

But am I crazy or...ahem...is that just trivially fucking inoffensive? If I had frog squatted on my desk and—“Verify this, bitch!”—farted into a metal basin full of Cracker Barrel gravy, then sure, be mad. Slam the phone down. Say to the guy by the copier, “Why me?!” and vow to get me fired. But if a natural, nonchalant throat-clearing infuriates you enough to comment on it, you're honestly just an asshole. It's not a frog squat gravy fart, it's not a rude personal affront. It's somewhere way below open mouth chewing, there around unfortunate but necessary nose blowing. I'm gross, you're gross, we're all gross. Get over it, and then, Fuck off, I have a job to do.

I did briefly wonder if maybe she's an anxious person too, a gremlin, maybe her facade is as fragile as mine, but I don't think so, because her attitude when she answered my call had already indicated to me that she never dressed up in a fake bow tie. She thinks she's a normal person: reckless, careless, unprofessional. No phone tone, no Kimball timbre. And because of that, she gave me another thing to worry about, to nag at me, something uncontrollable that I'd be trying to temper, something unconsciously mechanical now made noticeable and manual and clumsy. Thanks.

I was just worried about my goofy voice.

If you're thinking that it's all just a little silly and ridiculously minuscule, then congratulations, you're one of those “normal” people, like Ms. Shelby North Carolina. You make our lives worse.

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forever-more-never-again · 5 years ago

Text

Half Horse, Half Human, All Yours (A Request)

Requested: @gold-queenriderof-reylanilth

Word Count:3174

Pairing: Natasha X Fem!Centaur!Reader, Avengers X Reader(Platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore, Violence, fighting

Request: Can you do a centaur!au of Natasha x female reader where the reader finds out she's pregnant and tells Natasha? And a few weeks after that Reader gets attacked by wolves mutated by HYDRA and Natasha gets there in time and her and Bruce does an ultrasound and they find they are having twin girls? In my stories males and females can get others of the same gender pregnant as they have been doing it for thousands of years.

A/n: Sorry this took so long...I hope you like it!

Masterlist

You swore that sometimes the universe loved the mess with you and give you headaches. First by Making you a mutant, then by handing you over to Hydra. All the screaming mixed with gentle nurses cleaning wounds. The fighting and blood. And then the rescue.

The Avengers, you had learned their name, had stormed the compound that you had been in and had rescued you.

But then you had no idea what to do with your freedom. Being part horse, a centaur, you got some strange looks from the public once you were free. So the Avengers invited you to stay with them in the Avenger Tower.

As a year passed with you being a sort of live-in maid slash companion slash cook slash communications officer for the team, you and a certain red headed assassin became close.

And then came the proposal and the wedding and the late nights and the awkwardness of trying to sleep on the same bed, and the laughter as Natasha rode on your back for the first time.

And then the day that you and Natasha had approached Bruce and Tony with a proposition. Natasha was sterile from her time in the red room, but you were fertile. Could the two scientists create an embryo with yours and Natasha’s DNA and then implant it inside you?

The answer was yes. And now Two years after being rescued from Hydra, you were three months pregnant and couldn’t be happier.

“What are you thinking about Babe?” Natasha’s smooth voice floated over to you where you were lounging on the carpet. Your long Equine legs folded in on themselves in an effort to get comfortable.

Reaching up with grabby hands, you yanked on her waist and pulled her down to you.

“Just about the past.”

She snickered, “Oh, Dangerous.”

You laughed and flicked her forehead, “Shut up.”

Natasha sighed, and her hand came to rest on your stomach. Her gaze wistful.

Sadly, the happy, calm moment couldn’t last.

“All available hands needed, urgent mission. Please report to helideck for report.”

The voice of FRIDAY echoed through the building and you groaned as you stood up, your hooves already aching.

Natasha looked at you in shock, “You aren’t actually going, are you? You’re pregnant?”

You smiled softly as you grabbed Nat’s waist and swung her up on you so that you could carry her weight and get to the deck faster by galloping.

“I’m barely pregnant and you heard FRIDAY, all hands needed. I’ll be fine. Besides, I just provide communication support from the Jet. I don’t actually do any fighting or missions.”

Natasha sighed, knowing you were right. Her hands wrapped around your waist, where Human became horse, were warm and comforting.

Upon reaching the Jet loading area, you weren’t surprised to see the rest of the team already suited up and ready. Aside from Falcon, who was working at the VA.

Jumping down from your back, Natasha straightened up, going into what you teasingly called, her Avenger mode.

“We got a call an hour ago from some assets in Russia. They had been monitoring activity at a suspected Hydra compound. We received confirmation along with some worrying information.” Steve’s voice was cold and clinical as he laid out the basics of the mission.

Speaking over the rumble of the jet engines, you captured Steve’s focus, “What worrying information? What would require all of the Avengers?”

Taking down Hydra compounds wasn’t necessarily a dangerous activity. It was actually pretty common for one or two Avengers to take down compounds weekly. So you were understandably worried that this compound somehow needed all the Avengers.

Steve nodded slightly at you, recognizing your worry.

“During their check in to relay the information, we heard some sounds over the radio. Then screams. The assets did not recheck in, and we have been unable to contact them again. We have to assume that Hydra has created some sort of weapon and killed them.”

As Steve said this, you noticed that almost everyone subconsciously shifted away from Bucky.

His shoulders slumped the tiniest bit at this, and you couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. You knew what being kept by Hydra was like.

“So we stay safe, we stay in groups. I want us to be home by midnight.”

You tuned back in as Steve finished briefing.

“Got it.”

“Right Cap.”

“You coming with me, Legolas?”

“Whose staying behind with [Y/n]?

Of course it was Natasha who voiced the last comment amidst the cacophony of noise.

Everyone quieted and looked over at you.

Stomping your front hoof, you snorted, “I’ll be fine, Red. I’ll be inside the Jet, and I trust you guys to keep the fight away.”

That did not ease the fear in those gorgeous green eyes you loved.

So when the Jet landed and everyone began heading out, you reached out and grabbed her hand. The one with the simple gold band on her finger.

“I love you Natasha. I’ll be fine...we’ll be fine. I promise.” You kissed her knuckles as you guided it to your stomach. Where new life was growing.

Natasha released a heavy sigh and smiled at you, “I know. I love you too.” She stretched up on her toes to capture your lips in a searing embrace.

Upon release, you gazed at your wife with heavy lidded eyes, “Better go now before I decide to keep you here.”

Natasha giggled, and your heart stuttered at the sound. “Would that be so bad?” She batted her lashes at you with a pout on her lips.

You laughed, and pushed your wife away, “Go, Nat. Go save the world.”

Once she did leave the jet, you closed back up the ramp and trotted over to the controls, adjusting a headset and connecting all the comms to your unit.

“This is Base, Everyone sound off.”

“Cap here with White Wolf”

“Iron Man here with Hawkeye.”

“This is Vision sounding off alongside the Scarlet Witch.”

“Banner standing by with Hulk ready to go”

“This is Black Widow with Banner.”

You sighed deeply, getting ready for the fight to come, even if you weren’t actively participating in it.

“Everyone is good. Base is going silent. Good luck out there.”

Shifting your weight, you listened in on the codes and orders as the Avengers moved into the compound.

Several times, you swore your heart stopped when you heard your wife yelling, or when the comms were silent.

But you trusted the team, and you trusted that your wife would return safe.

“Anyone got sight of the supposed weapon yet? This fight seems to...quiet.” Tony’s voice broke your reverie.

Leaning forward, your eyes on the console, your attention on the fight, you heard Steve reply in short gasps of breath.

“No...Anyone! Have...eyes on it?”

A gunshot echoed through your ears, “Not over here Cap! But Hulk’s getting a little carried away!”

A distant bellow, still thundering loud, punctuated Natasha’s words.

Your hooves made noise on the metal flooring as your front legs pranced with nerves. Where was the supposed weapon that had killed the Assets?

And once again, the Universe decided that it loved to mess with you. Because the screeching, chill inducing, shrieking of something carving into metal, was not coming from your headset, but rather, from right outside the Jet.

Quickly unmuting your side of the comms, you interrupted Vision, “Guys. I’ve got a situation back at the Jet. Unknown source outside, attempting to gain entrance.”

Another ear splitting shriek was heard, this time accompanied by a strangled howl.

And you couldn’t stop the animal instinct, the baseline fear, that crawled into your heart and settled. Warning you. Shouting at you to run. Run fast and far and away from the predator right outside.

“What!? Whose closest to the Jet!?” Natasha’s worry and fear was almost tangible.

“No one is near! But the fight should be over soon and we’ll head over as soon as we can! The Jet is made to withstand a Nuke! [Y/n] Should be safe as long as they stay inside!”

Your tail flicked as another strangled howl was heard from outside the Jet. And then, unsettling silence.

“Guys. Whatever it was. I think it left.”

Natasha sounded like she was running as she panted, “Don’t check! Stay inside [Y/n]! Please!”

You knew she was right. You knew it was what you were supposed to do. But something inside you, some morbid curiosity, some unknown fear, made you inch towards the button that would lower the ramp.

Headset still on, you heard everyone panicking as the fight wound down and they tried to calm Natasha.

A shaky hand stretched forward, and with a hiss of electronics and cold Russian Air, the Ramp began to lower.

“[Y/n]!? What was that!? Don’t lower the ramp! Please Baby!” The cry was just that, Natasha crying into the comm.

Your heart was beating fast like it wanted to escape from you human chest, and it beats faster as you listened with half an ear to your wife’s sobs.

Your hooves seemed unnaturally loud as you pranced down the ramp, eyes scanning the area.

A gasp was caught in your throat when your eyes caught sight of the side of the Jet. Long gashes ran down it. Claws. Your mind stuttered helpfully. Powerful claws. Big Claws.

“What sort of animal?” You muttered to yourself.

But the rest of the team heard you.

“What? What animal? [Y/n]? Do you have a visual on the weapon?” Steve’s brusque voice broke your trance.

But right as you opened your mouth to respond, you saw it. And your body froze.

Gleaming yellow eyes peered out at you from the russian snow. Then another pair of eyes, and another. Until a total of four sets of yellow eyes, glistening with feral intent, stared at you.

Dimly, you heard voices screaming at you, but you were focused on the shifting snow. No, not snow. Bodies. Lithe, large, powerful white bodies.

Wolves.

Not normal wolves either. These wolves stood at six feet tall. Paws as wide as your head. With razor sharp teeth that gnashing in anticipation. Saliva dripping from their mouths as their eyes tracked you.

In an instant, you sprang to action. Turning sharply on your hind legs, you ran towards the ramp controls.

And then Pain. Blinding white pain erupted from your withers.

“Ah!” the sound you emitted was a mix between a human scream and a horses whinny of fear.

Bucking your hindquarters, you swung wildly.

The large weight left your back abruptly, and the sudden shift along with your hooves struggling to find purchase on the metal floor, led to you slipping and rolling down the ramp, landing in the snow on your side, your legs tangled underneath you.

“Aaroooo!” The strangled howl pierced your soul as your struggled to stand, wincing as you caught sight of the giant gash on your hindquarters. The thick blood pouring out and staining the white snow red.

The four hybrid wolves. Ones that Hydra had mutated you hypothesized, began circling you.

Stalking. Their footsteps silent in the snow as they walked around you, their dead yellow eyes never once leaving you.

You struggled to keep an eye on all of them at once. Whirling around erratically.

One jumped at you, jaws snapping viciously, saliva spraying.

Rearing up, you lashed out with your front legs, managing to clip it. It backed down, a low growl in it’s throat as it began circling again.

You could feel the stress and the exastian settling in as the fire from the wound on your back began to flare up.

And then two attacked at once. One leaping at you from the side, while another went for you human torso.

Turning, you managed to body block one, but the second wolf managed to latch onto one of your arms.

Your agonized scream echoed as you pried at the clamped jaw with your other hand. Sticky with sweat, saliva and blood, as it spilled from the wolves clamped jaws, made it difficult, your hand slipping as tears blinded your vision.

Bloodlust and victory in sight, the remaining wolves left off a howl and then sprang for you.

In that second, it seemed like your life flashed before you. As you stared at death and its gleaming silver fangs and venomous yellow eyes, you remembered warm hands clutching yours, soft words whispered at night, drunken kisses and stolen moments. And you silently apologized to the love of your life.

‘I’m so sorry Natasha. I acted rashly. I left you alone. I put myself and our child in danger and am leaving you to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart. I hope you can forgive me someday.’

And then your eyes slide closed as you awaited death.

Death was not supposed to be loud explosions, the sound of bullets and hot blood soaking your body though, was it?

Cracking an eye open, you immediately became wide eyed.

The wolves laid dead before you and one glance up and around you was enough to figure out how.

Tony flew over to where Bucky stood with his automatic rifle. Clint and Steve walking from the treeline with grim faces. Vision and Wanda flying down from above with Banner being carried by Wanda.

And in front of you, chest heaving, tear tracks visible amongst the dirt and blood, eyes wild and hair flying in the wind, hand outstretched holding a smoking pistol, stood your wife, Natasha.

“Natasha, I’m so sorry, I almost got myself and our baby killed and I’m-” Your words cut off as air left your lungs from the weight flung at you.

You managed to catch Natasha. Her arms snaking around your torso as sobs shook her body.

Your own tears once again began falling as you cried with her.

“Don’t ever do something like that again [Y/n]! You listen when I tell you to stay put! You almost died you idiot!”

Your laugh choked with tears stopped her rant.

As she slowly let go, you suddenly became very tired.

Blood stained your hands, and your arm began screaming out from pain. Glancing at it, you felt bile rise in your throat.

“I think I’m going to-” Once again you were cut off, this time because darkness encroached on your vision and you fell as you became unconscious.

The next time your eyes opened, you were assaulted with white and the bitter smell of antiseptics.

Groaning, you slowly took stock of your surroundings. Your horse's body was laying on its side, with large swatches of gauze and bandages covering your rump. Meanwhile, your human torso, as you stretched and leaned up, had been resting on a modified lounge.

Your arm was covered in bandages as well. Some pink showing through in patches, making you grimace.

And then you heard the door open.

“....”

You and Natasha stared at each other. She was dressed casually. And you realized you were in the medical ward of the Avengers tower.

And then she ran to you and slid on her knees so that she was level with you.

Her hands came up, but paused just short of cupping your face, as her eyes stared into yours.

Her lips trembled as her hands slowly traced your cheeks. Your eyes slid shut for a second as you felt the warmth from her palms.

And then you reached forward and tugged her closer, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto your chest.

Which worked for you as you captured her lips and drank the love of having your wife safe and in your arms.

“Should We come back later?” The amused voice spoke out.

You and Natasha parted and looked to where Tony stood smirking beside a sheepish looking Bruce.

“You gave us a good scare there [Y/n]. Those wolves were no joke. You’ve been sedated for two days recovering.” Bruce went into doctor mode as he looked you over.

Natasha stayed nestled against your chest, her hands resting on your shoulders, your wrapped around her waist.

She kissed your cheek and growled at you, “The next time you recklessly put yourself in danger, I will shoot you myself.”

Chuckling lightly, you gave her lips a quick peck, “I’ll let you do it Darling.”

Tony, who had walked over to where Bruce was typing away at a computer, faked gagged at the pair of you.

When you and your wife both turned your glares at him, he held his hands up in surrender before sighing and looking at you with worry in his eyes, “We were all scared [Y/n], when you wouldn’t respond and all we heard was screaming and howls. You’re lucky you only got as hurt as you did, considering the precious cargo you’re carrying.”

The reminder of your baby had you gasping as you unwind an arm to place it on your stomach. Natasha turned and stretched out her hand as well, laying it on top of yours.

Bruce smiled softly at the two of you as he pushed his glasses up higher, “While you were under, we did some tests to make sure your baby was fine. Which it is!” He frantically said when he saw you tense up and eyes start to water. Once you’ve calmed down, he continued, “Your baby is more than fine. Both of them are.”

It took a second for his words to register, but when they did, you and Natasha gasped.

“Twins?” Your voice was a whisper, the word a prayer and a hope.

Bruce’s smile was bigger, while Tony seemed to gloat.

Your eyes went to Natasha’s, drowning in their green, as she shared your look of amazement and happiness.

“Twins. We’re having twins, [Y/n]!” Her laughter rang out as she leaned up and once again captured your lips in a searing kiss.

Breaking apart, you grinned at her, “I love you so damn much Natasha.”

Natasha grinned as well, “And I love you, [Y/n].” She grew a serious look, but you could still see the happiness and joy in her eyes as she continued, “But you are not going on anymore missions. End of discussion.”

You nodded, “Okay. But only if you promise to not go on missions for the rest of the pregnancy, and you promise to always return when you go on missions after.”

Natasha’s eyes grew soft, “That I can definitely promise.”

And because the Universe loved to mess with you, right as the air began to sizzle with sexual tension, the bubble between you and Natasha popped as Tony’s annoying voice chimed in, “I claim naming one Stark Junior!”

As Natasha chased Tony around the lab, as Bruce tried to placate them, and as you snorted with laughter hearing Natasha yell that they were not naming any of your babies after such an arrogant man, you knew that you were where you were meant to be in the Universe. You were home.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict @rororo06 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p @morbid-gaymer @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @sunnyandtwisty @zoeyknight @kurlyafro @thewomanofwonder @5aftermidnight @myfemininelesboworld @gaytrashgoblin @marvelb00kwolf @multifandom-imagines-things

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood

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anothersillyfanblog · 4 years ago

Text

These Days Part Five (Sanders Sides au)

Premise: Virgil is mute (oh and he lives in an attic, he’s always lived there) and life is kinda a tiny bit not right. He starts to realize this, of course, when he gets a secret “forbidden” friend who shares lots of cool (and slightly feral) ideas. There’s a lot more, but that’s the basic thingy. Warnings (some more-so for later parts, but still relevant): abuse, emotional abuse, burns, burn scars, scarring u!Logan, u!Patton, physical violence/injury

Ask me if I need to add any tags.

Part One | Part Six

Virgil was breathing too rapidly, he could hear it, but Remus had to ignore it for now. He squeezed his friend’s hand as they stood on the street corner together. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Answers… answers… how does one find ANSWERS in such a scenario as this? Remus was in his room, flopped on a large mountain of beanbags (and plushies) thinking think-ily of what he could do.

Normally, when Remus was actually trying to do something serious, he’d maybe bypass some of his plans by his brother, but… Well Roman was in on this- whatever ‘this’ was- so, he couldn’t. In fact he was actively working against his brother which, well it wasn’t really the first time (if pranks counted), felt kinda weird. And exciting!

Okay, brainstorm. Though every time he thought of the word “brainstorm” it reminded him of that scene from Sharkboy and Lavagirl- HE COULD SUMMON AN ARMY OF SHARKS!

No, Remus, be realistic. Roman would say. Roman- he could use his connection to Roman! Maybe he could disguise hims- nah, let’s be honest, that would never work. But it was still true that his brother knew the family well enough to know their secrets. He could, in theory, just introduce himself as Roman’s brother and ask them exactly what they’re up to.

So there he was. In front of the, well, front door and not climbing up a wall or round the back all sneakily. He didn’t pause to think of what he was going to say because he’s Remus. No, he immediately knocked quickly on the door, grinning ear to ear.

“Hello?” The-man-who-hadn’t-been-tagging-birds asked. Virgil had said that this was probably Patton. Whoever he was, Remus pushed his way in immediately, spying two more clearly shocked men. “Hi! I’m Remus, Roman’s brother? He must’ve mentioned me because I’m awesome.” “Ah.” The-man-who-had-been-tagging-birds (Logan, apparently) frowned. The other man… the mysterious third voice, huh? He had large burn scars coating one side of his face, some breaking out like scales in patches, and scraggly, unkempt hair on the lighter side.

He smiled becomingly, wincing slightly as he did so. “Of course he did. Please, sit down, let me get you a cup of tea.” “Uh, no liquid just bag thanks.” Remus called back, spying Logan adjust his necktie a little. “So… Logan, Patton… hey…” “Hi! Sorry if Logan’s rude (he’s science-y you know), but if there’s anything we can get you at all, let me know.” Patton smiled widely. Logan breathed sharply out his nose, then turned and left the room. “Ah it’s fine!” Remus grinned as he accepted a cup from the third man. “I’m used to being rude to people.”

The unknown guy sat down opposite Remus looking across softly. “So, Remus, you decided to bob down to our humble dwelling today?” “Yeah, thought I should eventually…” Remus fiddled with his sleeves. “Does your brother know?” Patton asked, from next to the sink. The strange man shot him a horrible look. “Yeah, course he does!” Remus grinned.

The man opposite him looked intrigued, then frowned. “You may call me…” he sighed “Prima.” “Can I aaaassskkkk??? Or no? Coz I can very much not ask?” Remus hovered his hands around, not entirely sure what he was asking about, but fairly sure that if it was what he thought- then he was being an ‘insensitive prick’ again. “About my scar?” Prima asked. In the background, Patton looked up from the dishes he’d mindlessly started. “Roman said you were blunt- it was a childhood accident.” He leant back. “Yeah, uh, shouldn’t have asked huh?” Remus fiddled with his sleeve. “No, I understand.”

There was a knock on the door and it burst open loudly. “Hello! Are we all as wond-” Roman stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, then smiled slowly. “Hi Rem, how you doing?” “Howdy BROTHOR” Remus waved “I’m good! Just stewing in ma juices!” Roman nodded, walking towards him and Prima. “Great, brilliant to know. Just wanted to come and say mom and dad want us home early so please, brother.”

Remus grabbed the teabag from the cup and popped it his mouth. “Okay” he grinned, munching. “On ma way.” Prima stood up along with Remus. “Let me show you both out.” “I was gonna do that!” Patton laughed from the sink. Remus stepped out, looking back to wave all friendly-like when Prima stepped closer sternly. “Do stop by again.” He whispered.

The door shut. Roman powerwalked on, expecting Remus to keep up. Remus, however, expected all hell to break loose.

Which it fully did.

“Remus,” Roman pretty much growled “what. The. Fuck?” “I thought it was about time I met your funky friends!” Remus grinned. “No, Remus, no. You don’t get it.” The older twin screamed “you have no IDEA what is going on and- and you just run in like the idiot you are, they’ll know, Remus, they’ll know you weren’t meant to be there!” The ‘idiot’ scoffed “Yeah, you right. I got no clue why there’s some kid locked in a fucking attic or, no, why you’re so pally-pally with the strange bird-tagging guys.” He looked his brother dead in the eyes. “But I’d love to.” Roman screamed into his hands in frustration “You don’t get it!” “I have no fucking clue what IT is! Kidnapping a child?” “No, it’s…” Roman bit his lip “you wouldn’t get it.” He spat. Remus laughed “Oh right, I never get anything, do I? Coz of the brilliant five fucking min-” “No!” Roman protested “You won’t get it because- because I don’t really get it.” He admitted. “Look, you know about this- which wasn’t meant to happen but whatever- you also know about Virgil-” “There’s more to this shit than Virgil?” Remus interrupted. “Yes! No? Let me talk, ok.”

Roman sighed. “I don’t know, I know Virgil is a student. What’s important is he’s different from us, ok? And he lives with them and it’s a weird situation but I can’t tell you everything because it’s very sensitive to them and their household. Virgil has lived there for his whole life- he has been safe, he is safe and he always will be, ok?” “You know what I got from that?” “What?” “He, a young’un, has been trapped inside for his ENTIRE LIFE!”

Then, Roman crossed a little tiny line. He grabbed Remus’ shoulders. And, instinctively and without giving a shit about whatever his brother was about to say, Remus jerked back then immediately drove Roman into a wall. He heard something break, bones probably, and jumped back.

His older brother groaned, but tried to stand up “You… don’t. Please, Remus, just… leave this alone for once… don’t do what- what I think you’re about to.” “Yeah, I’m sorry- about the bones and for this.” He gestured vaguely “because yes. I absolutely AM about to do what you think I am.” “Remus… no…” “Remus yes.”

He climbed up, then knocked firmly (but quietly) on the glass window. Roman was right- they had just gotten suspicious. Which made this Remus’ last chance to do this and do this properly.

Virgil opened it. So what are we going to do tonight? I did maybe think Smash Bros but… Virgil then shrugged. “I need you to run away with me.”

—————————————————————

Honestly if you don’t know the “Brainstorm” scene, look it up. It’s GOLD. Other notes of the day include the fact Roman and Remus are around 17 in this and Virgil’s age is complicated, but let’s say he’s about the same age. Also REMUS NO-

Taglist: @the-pastel-kitsune @night-luna @suicidaltrashbag @sarahx2802

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #u!logan #u!patton #writing #my writing #tw burns #tw violence #emotional abuse tw #tw injury

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theexleynatureblog · 4 years ago

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Sorry, but letting your cat outside is a sign of a lazy owner.

Scientists estimate there is between 60million to 160million feral cats in the US. July, 2018.

“Bring in the dog and put out the cat!” - Yakety Yak. Letting our cats outside is almost a part of Western culture, since the days of Fred and Wilma. But we should all no by now that a cultural norm doesn’t make something automatically right.

At the end of every episode, Fred Flintstone let’s the family saber-toothed cat outside, only for the cat to jump back inside through the window and lock Fred out of the house.

Unfortunely, real-life cats aren’t as responsible. If you let your cat outside, and they are comfortable, they will take advantage of the opportunity. I know from experience living in a house with five outdoor-cats.

An article from Battersea.org gives instructions on how to safety introduce your cat to the outdoors, stating ‘your cat may want to explore.’

Well, of course they do! They’re a cat! It’s like telling a human they may want to walk. Here’s the thing: animals are high-wired to do what they want, not what they should. Because in the wild, the things they want is to find food and hunt, which helps them to survive. A captive cat doesn’t need to do that, but they’ll still have that interest in the outdoors and the high-energy associated with it.

The biggest arguments I hear for letting cats outside it ‘it’s their nature’, ‘they deserve freedom’, ‘they need the exercise/stimulation’. This is true. Cat’s are living animals who are designed to expend energy, just like us. Exercise is essential to a pet’s health, and as a pet owner, it’s your job to make sure they’re getting what they need.

The problem is, if you’re doing this by letting your cat roam the neighborhood unsupervised, you’re doing it very wrong.

A cat wheel, recommended for owners of high-energy cats, like Bengals.

First, I’m before I list the many reasons to not let your cat outside, I’m going to list alternatives.

Number one - play

Did you buy a box of cat-toys for your new kitten? Did your new cat play with them a little bit and then loose interest playing by themselves? Purina recommends two 20minutes play sessions for your kitten every day. This time can change depending on your cat’s energy level. Obviously, a really active cat will need more, and an older cat may need less. You cant just dump a box of toys on the living room floor an expect your cat to keep itself busy all day like a toddler would, you have to engage with them!

Cat’s ‘play’ as an extension of their hunting instincts. They’re not doing it to pass the time, they’re doing it to learn and practice how to kill things. The key to productive play is thinking like prey. That long rope? Pretend it’s a snake. Grab that mouse toy and bounce it around in front of your cat like you think an actual mouse would move. Don’t poke or bonk your cats with they’re toys - its not encouraging their hunting instincts and may just make them annoyed and not want to play.

Aside from keeping them stimulated, playing with your cats every day can strengthen their bond to you. A happy and tired cat will have no interest in going outside. The amount of time you’d expect to play with/walk your dog is the same amount, maybe a little less, you should expect to spend on your cat. If you don’t have the time of day to take care of a dog, don’t get a cat.

Also, FYI, don’t use your hands as a toy, especially with kittens. A bad cat bite can put you in the hospital with a serious infection - even if your cat has lived indoors all it’s life. Using your hand to play instead of toys will teach kittens that your hand is in fact a toy. Good luck trying to pet them later.

Number Two - Cat furniture

Ever heard of puppy-proofing? Well, cat proofing is also a thing! If you want to take on the responsibility of owning a pet, be prepared to rearrange your entire house - and buy some new stuff. Cat’s are designed to climb and travel, so they may try to jump to to the tallest places in your house. Don’t want them up there? Consider getting a dog. Spray bottles and scolding may work, but unless you’re giving them an alternative to flex their muscles, it’ll only lead to behavioral problems down the road.

Cat walks are a fun and safe way to let your cat have the run of the house. Not only will it be fun for them, but it’ll make them feel safer. If you cat feels trapped, it may hide a lot of the time. This is especially important if you bring another cat into the house. One cat acting scared may invite the other cat to attack. Cat-walks give your cat the advantage to ‘oversee their kingdom’, and escape a situation that makes them uncomfortable.

But, I wouldn’t expect everyone to have this. If you rent your home, can’t afford this, or can’t build it yourself, it’s not an option. But you can be aware of how you arrange your furniture and shelves. If the cat’s gonna jump up on stuff, you might as well make sure it’s safe.

The bare minimum cat furniture you need (besides a litter box) are scratching posts. Even a declawed cat will want one, because they’re not just shedding nails - they’re marking their territory.

Most predators have a way of marking territory to keep invaders away. Cats do too, with a host of special glands. One of those is called an interdigital (inter-digital) gland located - you guessed it - between their toes, or digits. In the wild, when cats scratch on trees, they are rubbing that scent gland on the bark, to warn other cats this is their territory.

Your indoor cat probably won’t have to worry about invaders, but they will still want to use that gland. In their minds, your house is their territory that they must defend. This is why litter boxes are also important.

You may have seen pictures or videos of cats being trained to use and even flush toilets. It may be cute, but its actually not that great from a cat behavior standpoint. This article from The Dodo does a good job of explaining why NOT to potty-train your cat.

Don’t wanna deal with litter boxes? Get a dog! Because with cats, litter boxes are essential. Not only does it give your cat a place to do its business, but it allows them to exercise more of their natural behaviors. After all, ‘natural behaviors’ are the reason owners let their cats outside, right?

For every cat, there should be one litter box plus one extra. Two cats should have a total of 3 litter boxes, and so on. The boxes should be scooped once a day, with their litter changed about once a week - depending on specific needs. Sounds like a lot of work? Yeah - it is! Plus the smell of ammonia isn’t pleasant. If you don’t want to deal with this - Don’t. Get. A. Cat.

Naturally, people look for short cuts, like training their cat to use the toilet, or letting them outside to do its business. Hey, it works for dogs, don’t it? Well - cats aren’t dogs. They have different behavior. While you can count on that fence keeping your dog in your yard, your cat is going to parkour over that like nothing. While dogs will go anywhere they feel comfortable, cats have an instinct to bury their feces. According to Live Science, this helps them hide from other predators. Cats can be eaten by anything bigger than them, and they know it. It’s a behavior that gives them security. Think about it like having a lock on the bathroom door - in a public place. Would you be brave enough to go without it? Personally, I’d hold it until I got home. Cats probably feel the same way, so they’re going to want to find substrate that’s easy to bury stuff in - fresh soil in a flower bed, or little Jimmy’s sandbox.

This is also why toilet-training is a bad idea. It’s not a natural behavior for cats, and it denies their instincts to bury their waste and mark their territory. Also, what happens when your cat gets elderly or injured, and they can’t jump onto the seat for a few days?

Your Cat can still enjoy the outdoors.

Did you know they make cat leashes? That’s right, you can allow your cat to transverse the yard and neighborhood in safety! The downside of this is cat’s don’t tend to be as excited about walks as dogs do. When I bought a harness and leash for my cat, they plopped on their side and refused to move. I never got to take him on a walk.

If your cat is similarly lazy, that doesn’t mean its impossible, it just means training will be required. With the right balance of motivation and knowledge, a pet can be trained to do anything physically possible. Yes, it’s consistent work and slow progress, but exactly the thing a good pet owner should be willing to do. If your cat is staring out the window and practically running out the door, then they might not even need training. With a lease, you can prevent your cat from killing small animals, keep them from climbing too high in a tree, and keep them out of the street and away from possibly dangerous animals.

On that note, now may be a good time to list the reasons why NOT to let your cat outside! (Warning, this next section may contain intense images of blood, violence, and dead animals. Reader discretion is advised).

Parasites.

Hold onto your stomachs, everyone! We are not taking the gentle road.

When I say parasites, I’m not just talking about fleas and ticks - very common and very overlooked. There are worse things out there. Toxoplasma, for one. This parasite that causes flu-like symptoms sheds from cat feces, and it can be much worse for pregnant mothers (this is why your doctor recommends not cleaning a litter-box while pregnant). To make matters worse, its one of the most common parasites in the world, spreading by - don’t throw up on me - fecal-oral contact, which is exactly what it sounds like. A cat can host the parasite without any symptoms and spread to humans, and that’s not the only one.

Outdoor cats are much more likely to get parasites and harmful bacterial. This is because they consume wild animals harboring parasites, and they can pick up stuff from the environment. A squirrel could defecate somewhere that a cat walks, and later licks themselves to clean. Boom! Infected. Now, your outdoor cat could spread stuff like toxoplasma to your neighbors! There’s your neighbor, working in their flower garden, unaware your cat used it for the bathroom (and buried it). Ope, now she’s whipping her nose with her unwashed hand! Boom! Infected.

Want to learn something really crazy? Cat parasites have made their way to aquatic mammals!

This National Geographic Article gives more information on how the ‘Kitty Litter’ parasite has made it to marine whales and dolphins. This is due to feral and stray cats defecating near waterways that eventually wash out to the ocean. While cats and some terrestrial mammals can host the parasites with out any major symptoms, marine mammals are very different. They are the incorrect hosts for these parasites, and anyone who’s studies parasites (like me) knows, parasites in the wrong host is a recipe for disaster. AKA, death. And like many other species, our marine mammals are going through enough troubles right now.

If you keep your cat inside and use a litter box, there is still a risk of infection, but you’ve significally lowered the potential spread. I say, anyone you takes the responsibility of cleaning a cat box is a hero. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You are doing your cat and your neighborhood a huge favor. I sincerely thank you. So, when you’re scooping or changing litter, wear gloves, wear a mask, don’t touch your face, and wash your hands thoroughly afterword's. Also, take note of the condition of your cats dropping. Sometimes, to can clearly see worms, or something may just not look right. Remember - as an owner, it’s your responsibility to monitor your pets health. If you see something that doesn’t look right, you can take them to the vet. You can’t do this if you let your cat outside to do there business in the garden a few houses down.

High Death Rate

For feral cats, lifespan is typically two years. 50% of kittens don’t survive their first couple of days. Cats are killed by anything from car collisions, poison, coyotes, raccoons, raptor birds, and other cats. Male cats constantly fight each other for territory and access to females.

This brings up an interesting question. If cat’s death rate is so high, how are there so many in every town? A couple reasons.

Cats have a lot of kittens - multiple litters within a year. Even if only 50% of those kittens survive, that’s a lot of cats that are ready to breed themselves not long after.

Another reason is artificial healthcare. What this means is people will feed, spay/neuter, or rescue injured animals, and then release them. Because of their cuteness, cat’s have a charisma advantage over native predators in a neighborhood like coyotes and raccoons. No one’s going to trap a coyote with a broken leg to take it to the vet. I know that if I hit a cat with my car, and it was still alive, I would definitely rush it to emergency care. Supplemental feeding goes hand-in-hand with this. When people see a large cat colony outside, they may want to leave food out for them to help them out. Cats will eat the food, but it won’t end there. You may end up attracting more cats to an area, increasing the population. But if you were to suddenly stop feeding them, the extra cats are going to starve. You have only provided the animals with limited extra resources. Also, more cats in an area may lead to more fighting amongst them.

Because cats have a high death rate, the population’s method of survival is putting out high numbers. Feral and stray cats are constantly competing for food and running from dangers, and the ones who can put up with the suffering the most survive. This is the reality of nature. Nature is not a garden of Eden with fairies dancing with deer. This is the brutality you are exposing your pet cat to when you let them wonder alone outside.

Cats Kill Stuff

Cats are one of the few animals that kill for fun. Its not that they’re sadistic - they’re instincts tell them to bat that thing that moves, and they’ll do it until the thing escapes or stops moving. People automatically think about birds and small mammals, but cats will also eat insects, amphibians, and reptiles.

Some people swear by this argument, and some people counter the argument by saying stuff like ‘yeah, but windows and windmills kill more birds!’. Really? That’s your argument? Can you imagine if we said that about serial killers? Oh, its not a big deal if Freddy killed a few woman, James over there has killed a lot more!

Like... okay, that’s not as bad, but... we should still do something about it.

Cats, windows, and windmills. Instead of looking at these as three separate problems that we can only solve one at a time, step back and look at the big picture. “Human-caused fatality.” An article from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services talks about migratory bird fatality numbers and causes. You’ll see a handful of different causes, each with different solutions needed.

You can’t solve a problem by pointing your finger at someone and say “They’re doing it worse”. EVERYONE involved in the problem has to do their part and correct it. For example, window collisions with birds can be decreased by window stickers and ecologically-mindful building planning (not building tall things in high-traffic bird routes).

These small, decorative stickers can help prevent bird-strike deaths.

Another angle to combat the problem is reducing industrial-caused mortality. Open oil pits are a hazard to migratory birds, who land in and ingest the oily water as they migrate. The Migratory Bird Treaty Act hold companies who do not cover their ponds accountable for ‘preventable fatalities’. However, the Trump Administration recently attempted to roll back regulations like these, in order to increase profit of oil and gas companies. Contacting politicians and being a thoughtful voter can prevent policies like these, and save birds and wildlife.

Of course, cat owners can put their foot forwards to help save wildlife life by keeping their pets inside or on a leash. People argue ‘cat’s are natural hunters. So what if they kill a few birds?’. Okay, well, first of all, if you look carefully at the stats, its clearly not just ‘a few birds’. Second, do you know what kinds of birds? No? I don’t either. In fact, we have no control what kind of bird/reptile/mammal your cat will kill. They kill whatever they can catch. This includes endangered species.

This website lists North America’s Endangered Animals. Notice that some of these animals are large mammals, like cougars. But most of the species are small animals that cats are capable of catching and killing. And cats don’t care if a species is endangered. Now, I’m confident that NONE of these species are threatened by cats alone. That’s not how nature works, it takes more than one factor to wipe out a species. Species like the Yellow-legged Mountain Frog are threatened by predation, disease, habitat fragmentation, and climate change (which can make diseases and parasite spread worse). A road through a wetland may not look like a big deal, but that may as well be a ocean for small amphibians and reptiles to cross.

Not only do these animals risk getting crushed by pedestrians and vehicles, but they have no cover from predators - and predators WILL exploit these places. Keep in mind, these animals can’t always just pack up and go - they need specific resources for food, shelter, and reproduction. Some turtles will nest in the gravel of a road because it provides the best substrate for digging a nest. This includes suburban areas - where your cats are waiting. When you add exotic animal predation pressure to a species already suffering from diseases and habitat loss, well - that’s how we lost the passenger pigeon.

In conclusion, please find ways to keep your cat healthy and happy without allowing them to roam unsupervised outside. There are programs that help remove feral colonies using live animal traps, but there are others, like places in Australia, that use lethal means. I don’t like the idea of killing cats. After all - they are adorable, and it’s not they’re fault they are there. That’s purely our fault for releasing out domestic cats into delicate ecosystems. As much as I love cats, I prioritize the health of our ecosystems and environment more, and that calls for removing large feral cat colonies. A few random barn cats of course is no problem, but the thousands of cats living in suburb yards needs to be reigned in. Whether it is done with live traps or kill traps is dependent on the people. One thing is for sure - if we don’t take responsibility for our exotic invasives, we will be paying for it for a long time in the future.

Sources

nola.com

American humane society

Caticles

US Fish and Wildlife Services

#biology #cats #feral cats #exotic animals #pets #pet owners #ecology #enviroment #parasites #endangered species

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bi-dazai · 5 years ago

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ok my bsd predictions for major plot points in the future

If dazai were to be killed off in bsd, chuuya would probably be killed with him in a final act of coded symbiosis.

Tbh tho that's such a major thing that it probably wouldn't happen until when the manga is finishing up so

Chuuya will either become the PM Boss or he'll join the ADA.

So chuuya is strongly suggested in two ways for his future which is HM INTERESTING. So the way that Mori clearly recruits him not just for his ability but for his leadership skills, plus the how chuuya has been developing those skills, is something I was thinking about a lot in S3. Mori is very clearly not happy with Dazai being the heir, even though he was the best choice. Dazai would have probably killed Mori and taken his place by the time he was 20 if odasaku hadn't died. Chuuya has loyalty to the mafia plus the fighting and leadership abilities. He's also got a certain obedience and controllability that if Mori was to step aside and not die he would like. Also something ppl forget is that chuuya is actually good at negotiation and staying calm under pressure, it's suggested that dazai particularly triggers his anger because dazai is an annoying shit who seems to be in canon attached to him whenever they're in the same room.

HOWEVER. Now I don't think I've ever said this on this blog despite me constantly thinking about it but Fukuzawa's ability is the perfect thing for Chuuya, as it has the possibility of actually reigning in corruption. If chuuya joined the ADA he would actually be able to use corruption's ability of throwing black holes without losing control of himself. Arguably that would also get rid of the need for dazai's intervention although it's been established that skk were thought of as a perfect fighting duo for a year before corruption even first manifested in a fight, so I don't think this would kill skk. And chuuya joining the ADA would mean that he and dazai have to interact on the daily. It also means that the mafia is left without any clear heir. People have vouched for kouyou in this situation but I think it's clear that kouyou is being forced to be in the mafia, she's given up on leaving and doesn't want to be there actively.

I don't think the second outcome is very possible plotwise for a few reasons. These are all totally writer's arguments so appeals to logic and plot aren't exactly going to work here, but as a writer myself these are the planning issues that stick out extremely badly if we get chuuya to defect:

- it would have to take something extremely major to get chuuya to leave the loyalty of the mafia

- chuuya becomes even more OP. asagiri kafka has said that though he really likes chuuya (as evidenced by the amount of goddamn times chuuya comes up in the novels), he avoids putting him in the manga because chuuya is extremely overpowered. If he and dazai were logically paired together for each issue every arc would be solved far too quickly for things like character development, or like...story...to take place. This is why chuuya is constantly sidelined. You have to actively make it so that chuuya isn't on people's minds constantly, or get him out of the picture immediately, so that your narrative can actually develop. Chuuya is honestly a mistake in a writing sense. But he's a strong character and he and dazai were written in tandem to each other so he's absolutely unremovable. A character like chuuya NEEDS to exist. So the way chuuya has been toned down is Corruption. Chuuya's ability by itself is just...incredibly powerful. He's virtually indestructible. However Corruption, the ultimate form, is shown to actively kill chuuya. The only times we've seen corruption used is cthulu, shibusawa, and shibusawa big dragon, all extreme threats. So chuuya's life when he's pulled out as the deus ex machina is tied to dazai. This makes chuuya's unchecked OP a little less unchecked and a little less OP. Chuuya is actually a fantastic example of why you CAN have OP characters, you just have to write them a certain way.

However in writing them a certain way, the most stupid thing you could do for your narratives would be to bring corruption under control, and to bring chuuya into the group of protagonists. you have to find excuses in every problem to why chuuya can't just come out and handle this himself, like you were before but now dazai's absence isn't an issue PLUS your readers are paying more attention to chuuya because he's around all the time.

So yeah, chuuya being in the ADA would be a bad choice narrative wise unless it was for like...one arc or smth. Chuuya becoming the next boss of the port mafia is wayyyyy more likely to me. I don't think chuuya would like it but he's really the most obvious choice

Dostoyevsky/rat arc is going to be mega arc/s.

one of the exciting things abt this series is that I have no idea how long this conflict with the rats will go on for. At first I thought it would be an occasional and ongoing plotline that is explored not as one big set arc but interspersed with other non-rat arcs. However by the way it's going it looks like we have two options, either 1) the rat issue is being dealt with across one mega-arc or 2) rat issues will still be dealt with like I thought, interspersed, but each time they pop up it will be a mega-arc like it has been so far. I genuinely don't know how this will be resolved, and I'm actually kind of wondering if the characters will finally leave kanagawa prefecture and maybe head to Russia to defeat the rats. I think this could be a good start to travelling the characters to settings outside yokohama.

Agatha Christie is going to be matched up to Ranpo.

Like Dostoyevsky is dazai's foil because their works IRL were similar in tone, Agatha Christie and Ranpo match up in that way perfectly. We've already met the trick foil (we thought he would be, but he wasn't) for Ranpo in Poe (IRL Poe actually did write mystery at times, and his works do contain elements of suspense and unknown). Ranpo is clearly going through hell in this arc which makes me feel like he's going to start being a much more major character in the future.

Agatha Christie and Edogawa Ranpo's works both fit in the mystery genre and were both alive irl around the same time. They both played historic roles in developing the mystery genre of their language's literature and are pretty well-known in non-literature circles because mystery often has a pulp, mass-consumable aspect to it. It was actually surprising to me that they were made into characters considering the other characters are named after authors of much "higher grade" Literature, as in Literature capital L. Mystery authors especially like Agatha Christie don't fit that bill, but they've played a central role in developing the fiction industry so I don't find it odd. Plus there's a bit of a debate what counts as Literature and every person has different opinions. Mine differs to asagiri kafka's which evidently seems to be that if the author has had a significant impact on the literary field then their works become Literature, thus they become 文豪 (Literary masters), thus they become a bsd character. I think that's fair, even if it isn't what I would personally say Literature is. This is par for the course tho lol, p sure any person who is into Literature will have a different thing to say about what gets that capital L.

But yeah, I think Ranpo and Christie are clearly going to be each others foils.

Christie is going to be cold. Like. COLD.

Dostoyevsky is more obvious evil, it shows on the surface. But Christie will have a polite veneer, a charm to her. We've seen her in a shot, and she sits tall, she enjoys tea, she dresses expensively and lives in colourful rooms. But she had no hesitation to destroy Yokohama if a situation wasn't dealt with within half an hour in the cruelest way possible. Christie was actively ready to incinerate Yokohama alive, that was her first instinct when contacted for help. Christie very clearly has a lack of care for the lives of others, OR she wants to destroy Yokohama in particular. However considering this is the goal of Dostoyevsky and Christie will probably be the next major villain after Dostoyevsky, repeating that goal and motivation is pretty boring and not very bungou stray dogs.

The order of the clock tower will not come to yokohama first.

The Guild were the ones to come to yokohama and threaten it up close. The order of the clock tower was a major threat to yokohama from across the continent. That's terrifying. The ADA/Mafia will have to work proactively

The end of the clock tower will have major repercussions.

The order of the clock tower seems to have its claws in everything and has a tight maintenance of leadership and control over almost every gifted organisation we've met. The Order seems to literally keep order. But they've clearly got a goal with sending the guild and the rats after the book. If the order is destroyed then certain aspects of gifted society slip loose and create new problems. This will probably be the creator of an arc or two after the order arc is over.

Chuuya's backstory is linked to Dazai's.

Chuuya was used by the military and experimented on until he could contain a god of destruction, after which he went haywire, blasted a huge crater in yokohama, and became a feral child.

Dazai was...we don't know. The furthest back we can tell is that some time in his early teens he was taken in by Mori. Before that he was apparently wandering around trying to find some kind of emotion, something to make him feel. He eventually found that with the violence and adrenaline rush of the mafia.

Now I don't think that dazai is a psychopath. It's easy to say he is with the way he seems to talk about the hole in his heart and the absence and emptiness. However dazai very very clearly cares. He cares about odasaku, he cares about atsushi, he cares about the ADA, and he even cares about chuuya (this is not my shipper brain talking, I am literally talking about canon). Dazai very clearly CARES. He isn't a psychopath.

My belief is that dazai is the most clear argument for my case that the series is about mental illness and self worth. Dazai very clearly has a major depressive disorder.

I also think that dazai is extremely traumatised. Obviously he's traumatised by being in the mafia at 15 and by odasaku's death, but I also think dazai may have been traumatised even before then.

Atsushi is dazai's mentee, the half of shin soukoku. He's shown to have childhood trauma. Akutagawa also has childhood trauma. Chuuya has childhood trauma. This may be a coincidence but almost every main character in this series has some form of early trauma.

Dazai IRL was not called Dazai Osamu. Dazai Osamu is actually a very sad name but Dazai's birth name is Tsushima Shuuji. IRL dazai/Tsushima was the son of a rich family that lived in Aomori prefecture (which is very rural lol). Dazai had an absent father and a sick mother and wasnt raised by his parents but rather by servants and his aunt. His father died when he was young (not that he got very old) and his life was plagued by constantly running off with girls, getting his allowance cut for being a marxist, and, yes, suicide attempts.

So my ideas for how this may translate into bsd dazai is this:

- dazai ran away from home when he was young

- dazai never had a good parental figure

- dazai is from a rich family in a rural area very far away. Like for those who don't know Aomori is at the northern tip of Honshū, just below Hokkaido. Yokohama is just south of Tokyo. The region in between is mostly forest and smaller cities. Most of Japan's (major) cities are cloistered around Tokyo and Kyoto and Fukuoka which are towards the south. So dazai is a country boy who has wandered japan after running away from home.

- dazai's real name is Tsushima Shuuji and there's a personal reason he's distanced himself from that. This one im not sure about but yeah

- thus follows that why would dazai be so fucked up if he isn't a psychopath and he did come from a rich family? Dazai to me reads that something major happened. In shin skk it's clear that atsushi and alutagawa share a past of abuse at the hands of parental figures and loneliness. With all the similarities and parallels drawn between the characters in skk and shin skk it seems logical to me that chuuya's past of torture may be similar to Dazai's in a way. It would be disappointing to me if dazai's past was covered and it didn't in some way affect him. The clearest parallel between skk is that they both lacked parental figures most if not their entire lives.

There's also this comment that dazai makes when the head of atsushi's orphanage dies. It's that relationships with fathers are messy and even if they were terrible it's natural to cry. This seems like bsd dazai may share irl dazai's father's death early in his life. It's hinted therefore that dazai's father was either abusive or neglectful and died when dazai was younger.

Anyway this went longer than I thought it would but I invest far too much brain time into bsd so it's gotta seep out at some point lol

#long post #bsd

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terramythos · 6 years ago

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Review: The Obelisk Gate by N. K. Jemisin (The Broken Earth #2)

Length: 391 pages.

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Apocalyptic, Post-post-post Apocalyptic, Female Protagonist, Antagonist POV, First-Person, Second-Person, Third-Person, Gray Morality, Dark, Great Worldbuilding, Great Character Development, LGBT Characters, Diverse Cast, Trilogy

Warning(s): Like before, this is not a happy book. Child death, abuse/torture, graphic violence and gore, major body horror, and a whole lot of murder. References to slavery. Pretty par for the course at this point.

My Rating: 4.5/5

**WARNING: THIS REVIEW (INCLUDING THE SUMMARY) CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FIFTH SEASON. IF YOU WANT A SPOILER FREE REVIEW, PLEASE READ MY FIFTH SEASON REVIEW (X), OR, BETTER YET, JUST READ THE BOOK.**

My Summary:

A Fifth Season is well and truly underway, but unlike the dozens of others humanity has weathered through the ages, this one threatens to cast the world into ash and darkness for a million years, ending life as we know it. Essun’s search for her missing daughter has gone cold as she discovers Castrima, a strange underground city built into a geode, led by— bizarrely— a feral orogene. It is here she finds Alabaster— once her friend, mentor, not-quite-lover, and most powerful orogene alive— on his deathbed. He tore open the giant Rift in the center of the continent, kicking off all the death and destruction since the Season began. His actions and goals seem incomprehensible. Then, he tasks Essun with the impossible: use the power of the obelisks--the ancient, floating relics of a bygone era--to return Father Earth’s missing child.

But stranger forces are at work. The stone-eaters— immortal, statue-like humanoid creatures--have taken a sudden interest in humanity, and orogenes in particular. Essun herself is trailed by Hoa, the story’s narrator, a stone-eater wearing the disguise of a human child. He assures her that not all of his kind want the same thing, that he is on her side, but what does that really mean?

Meanwhile, Essun’s daughter Nassun grapples with the reality of her life— one in which the world is ending and everyone thinks of her as a monster. She will soon come to realize that love comes cloaked in pain— with dire implications for those around her.

There is a thing you will not see happening, yet that is going to impact the rest of your life. Imagine it. Imagine me. You know what I am, you think, both with your thinking mind and the animal, instinctive part of you. You see a stone body clothed in flesh, and even though you never really believed I was human, you did think of me as a child. You still think it, though Alabaster has told you the truth— that I haven’t been a child since before your language existed. Perhaps I was never a child.

You should imagine me as what I truly am among my kind, then: old, and powerful, and greatly feared. A legend. A monster.

Minor spoilers and my thoughts follow.

As I mentioned in my Fifth Season writeup (x), this is a hard series to summarize and review. By their nature, these books are full of unexpected and strange twists, and half the joy of reading them is discovering new things about the world and characters. So, it’s difficult to get specific without spoiling a lot. At the same time, it’s impossible to describe any context for this book without spoiling some of The Fifth Season, so… fuck it.

Did I like this one as much as The Fifth Season? I don’t think so— it’s still great, and much better than most of what I’ve read— but I tend to struggle with second books. The Obelisk Gate is very heavy on characterization and worldbuilding, and it definitely feels like setup for the third book, which might explain part of my reaction. That being said, as middle books go, this one has plenty going on and a lot of interesting drama. The writing itself is exquisite and very entertaining to read. There’s all sorts of lore details that shed a new light on the events and characters of the first book. And, well, there’s a very good chance I’ll look at this one in a new light based on book 3. I’m willing to bet these are very interesting to reread when one knows all the little twists and turns.

(As an aside, I randomly guessed a Big Twist in this one while reading The Fifth Season. So… go me, I guess).

Like The Fifth Season, this book follows three central characters. There’s Essun, of course, who once more serves as the main protagonist. But joining her now are Nassun— her missing daughter— and (of all characters), Schaffa, the main antagonistic figure from the previous book. These latter two offer a very different and interesting perspective on things. For example, early on you learn Nassun HATES her mother, which seems totally at odds with what we know to this point. Schaffa is also an interesting choice— we don’t see his perspective much, but we learn a lot about him and the Guardians in general. Why the fuck are they so creepy? Why do they smile all the time? Boy, you’re about to find out, and it’s not gonna be great.

One thing that continues from The Fifth Season which I really dig is the narrative style. I didn’t want to mention it in my previous review, but the whole story is technically in first-person, narrated by Hoa. He shifts into second-person when describing Essun’s life, whereas Nassun/Schaffa are both third-person. In The Fifth Season, Hoa seems like an odd choice of narrator, as he’s a fairly minor character, but that changes big time in The Obelisk Gate. There’s also small interludes from his perspective (my quote is one of them). Toward the end of this entry, he occasionally lapses out of second-person entirely for the Essun passages. This never felt jarring— in fact, in context it made sense. Or maybe Zero Escape numbed me to that type of thing.

And I super don’t want to spoil why, but Hoa’s an unreliable narrator. Which is great. I love unreliable narrators so, so much. You can probably pick it up in the first book, but this one really gets into the nitty gritty of it.

The stone-eaters in general are super interesting. They’re certainly not par for the course compared to typical fantasy races. In The Fifth Season they’re just sort of bizarre background characters, except at one or two key points. But you learn quite a bit about them in this one. Something I find especially interesting is that they don’t fall into the trap of “X fantasy race wants Y thing”. In fact, Hoa’s quite direct when he says his kind have many differing goals, much like the humans they follow around. I don’t think we get the full implications of that in this entry, but I bet it’s going to be an interesting thing to explore in the next book.

As for the characters, The Obelisk Gate doesn’t introduce very many new ones. I think Nassun is the only one who really qualifies outside of the very minor. Instead, the story focuses on active character development, or glimpses how certain characters have changed over the years. And everyone does (or HAS done) some real questionable shit. There’s certainly a sense of gray morality in the previous book, but this one drives it home. EVERYONE is morally gray. Fucking everyone.

Alabaster, my fave from last book, isn’t doing so great in this one, but he’s still the snarky asshole I liked in The Fifth Season. Schaffa gets some real unexpected development. Ykka, the rogue orogene leader of Castrima, is pretty interesting as well; she’s introduced in the previous book but you really don’t see much of her until this one. I continue to find Tonkee fucking hilarious (thanks for making the weird feral scientist trans, by the way). Nassun was absolutely not who I expected her to be at all, and she’s definitely set up to play an interesting role in the future.

Of them all, though, I think Hoa’s my fave this time around. As I’ve mentioned, he has a much more prominent role in this one and is just super intriguing. Definitely looking forward to his role in the conclusion.

I’ll state for the record that The Fifth Season put me on an emotional rollercoaster. The Obelisk Gate is no different. I feel so invested in these characters, flaws and all, and I’m interested to see where each of them ends up as we reach for the conclusion.

So where does that leave us? Well, kind of in the awkward place of a middle book. I really enjoyed this one, even if not as much as The Fifth Season. I think it’s a crime that this trilogy has practically no fan following, because it’s excellent. Maybe one of the best fantasy series I’ve read? I guess we’ll see with the next book. Either way, please read these books. I need more people to talk to about them!

#taylor reviews #taylor reads #4.5/5

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seducemedoofus · 7 years ago

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A Different Story Part 3 [Final Part]

Part 1 Part 2

Approximately three days after her last confrontation with the incubi boys, she had replenished her energy and sharpened her weapons, Mika Anderson drew herself a pentagram and sunk into it, appearing in the threshold of the house.

Letting out a breath, she put a hand to her chest, surprised to feel her heartbeat calm and steady.

Mika smiled, why would she be nervous or even scared? She had been preparing for this moment for months.

A calm settled over, smoothing out her features and giving her an air of invincibility.

Mika reached behind her head and grabbed her twin swords she had when she first came here, her hair back in its normal braid.

Placing her right foot in front of her left, she took in a breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and settling her arms at her sides.

“Enjoying the moment of peace before all hell breaks loose?” Erik said from the banister of the stairs.

Mika opened her eyes and she found Erik, hand placed and firm against the wood of the banister.

She smiled a feral grin. “Then it would feel just like home for you guys.”

“I’d rather not go through that again.” She heard Sam say. Mika saw him come out of the west wing of the house.

Damien appeared from the hallway at the top of the stairs, the east side of the house. “That’s why we’re going to fight.”

“Fight for our right to stay here.” Matthew finished for him, going to stand beside his brother.

James came out of the study to her right. “Let’s see if you can beat us, Miss Anderson.”

Mika gave a mock bow, flourishing her sword. “I will try my best.” She straightened. She saw the boys tense up, waiting for her to make the first move.

She smiled, extending her arms from her sides, her silver blades glinting in the light from the window above the double doors of the entrance.

The window.

With insane speed, Mika sheathed the sword in her right hand, grasping the handle of a small dagger and flinging it behind her back, praying it will land blade first in the glass.

The shriek of glass being broken and pin drops of it crashing to the floor confirmed it.

As the incuboys were distracted with the fallen glass, Mika flung a hand outward, using a spell to knock someone backwards at dangerous speeds.

For an incubus, specifically Matthew, it wouldn’t cause death, most likely scratches and cuts, if she’s lucky, knocking him unconscious.

As the spell was traveling towards Matthew, Sam glanced over to her and saw her hand outstretched and aimed at Matthew.

Guessing what she was doing, he sped up the stairs, crashing into Matthew to send him to the floor. At the last second the wall behind him gave a boom and left a crater in it, debris cracking down and hitting the floor, sunlight shining through.

If Matthew would have been hit with that spell, a Matthew sized hole would have been left in that wall.

Grunting in annoyance, Mika didn’t notice until it was too late that a towering purple tentacle swing back and send her flying towards the wall.

Her instincts taking over, she muttered a few words, slowing her speed and allowing herself to arrange her body so that her feet will land on the wall instead of her side.

When her feet planted down on the cool concrete of the wall, she pushed off of it, sending her back towards Erik.

Both long, silver blades in her hands, she slashed at the two tentacles nest to Erik, cutting it by the middle and sailing over the incubus’s head.

The sound of them hitting the floor gave her a slight relish, but she didn’t have time to stop for James had two golden pistols in his hand, firing at her with no mercy.

Dashing across the tiled floor, she heard James shout for Sam who appeared in front of her in a matter of seconds, fists flying towards her.

His fist successfully met with her jaw, her reeling back as shoots of pain raced around her mouth.

Abandoning her blades at her feet, she lifted her arms and joined Sam in his dance of violence.

Mika landed a few punches to his chest, never hitting above his torso.

The whish of bullets had stopped, probably because James didn’t have a clear shot of her and didn’t want to risk hitting his brother instead.

Letting the activities of the other boys distract her, she gasped in pain when she felt Sam grip her arm tightly and swing his foot underneath her legs, letting her crash to the ground.

The same trick Mika did to him.

Grimacing, she fought for Sam to get off of her.

Mika heard the click of a gun and her eyes widened.

She seized Sam’s shoulders and rolled them over so she would be on top of him, her legs straddling his torso...

And Sam being in direct line of the bullet flying from James’s gun.

When Sam let out a growl of anguish as the bullet lodged itself in his shoulder, Mika scrambled back from him, pressing herself against the wall.

Keeping her hands smeared with his blood to herself, she wiped her palms on her pants.

One incubus down, or rather injured, four more to go.

Mika felt the gust of wind as daggers wedged themselves on either side of her head and next to her arms on the wall behind her.

She saw Matthew standing on the top of the banister, James rushing down the stairs to Sam, his pistol on the stairs, Damien was gone from her sight, Erik too.

Mika’s attention was on Matthew now.

She clenched her fists, feeling them grow warm and unbearingly hot.

She reached towards her head, snatching the handles of the blade and flipping them over so that the blades rested in her palms, the silver growing red from the heat.

A second after the blades had left her hands, Damien’s voice echoed around them shouting. “Matthew, duck!”

Matthew did as commanded and a shadow replica of Damien appeared in front of Matthew, taking both of the daggers to the head.

“Damn you, Damien!” Mika shouted to the oblivion that was the incubus.

A voice responded to her, his voice low and dangerous. “You tried to kill my brother.”

Mika calmed the heat in her hands, instead mouthing a few words and it replacing it with flames. “Your brother tried to kill me.”

“We did nothing to you.”

“You did plenty to me.”

“Your grandfather offered to help us!”

“And he died because he helped you!” There was so much anger and pain laced in her voice, everyone was knocked speechless. “He died because he helped you and look where he is now! He is six feet in the ground!”

Erik whispered her name. “Mika...”

“Do not say my name.” She rumbled, fists growing more hot with every passing second. “Do not ever say my name, my grandfathers name, my family’s name ever again!” And at that moment, Mika stomped her feet, throwing her head back.

Fire swirled around her like a tornado, reaching it’s peak, it blew out towards everyone.

Mika closed her eyes as the warmth left her, feeling the fire die in her hands.

“Mika, we don’t want to fight you,” Sam managed to say, trying to sit up, but fell back down with a grunt as his shoulder bled more and stained his green letterman jacket.

Mika lowered her head so she made eye contact with Sam and smirked. “So sorry, but I want to fight you.”

Mika Anderson continued to fight the five incubi brothers, her strength fading rapidly with every spell she used, ever dagger she threw, with every breath she took, she was becoming weaker, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The bullet wound in Sams shoulder made his fighter slower and more sluggish, but he still landed a few hits on to Mika when he timed it right.

She managed to knock Matthew unconscious, causing Damien to hover over him protectively. Erik had a few cuts on him but was other wise unharmed because of his tentacles that he used to block her attacks. James was in bad shape, having only one arm to aim his gun with, dried blood covering his lips.

Mika, though, was in the worse condition, While she may have started off strong, she was only human. And what was a human next to not one, or two, but five incubi, still powerful, even when they’re not at full strength?

Nothing.

Mika went down when one of Erik’s tentacles grabbed her by the ankle and flipped her over, slamming her down on her right arm.

A shriek came from Mika, full of pain and anguish and sadness.

She lay panting on her side, her right arm broken and twisted at an odd angle, and let tears of pain and frustration leak out of her eyes.

Her midnight hair came undone from her braid and now lay around her head and over her eyes.

All motion from the boys stopped as they took in the broken grandchild of their savior from the Demon World.

“Mika...” Sam muttered quietly.

“No,” Mika manage to say. “N-No,” With her other hand, she pulled herself into a crouching position.

A constellation of cuts were littered across her arms, the legs of her pants were cut open to reveal gashes, her arms had imprints of tentacles and streaks of blood, her face...

Her face held the eyes of a sad woman, blood dripping down from a cut on her temple. Her bottom lip was cut and quivering. Her cheeks had specks of dried blood mixing with salty tears.

“No,” She said again. “I don’t want to hear pity, I don’t want to hear regret, all I want to hear are your last breaths.”

“Mika,” James said.

“I said before to never say my name,”

“Mika!” James yelled. “You are in no position to say such things. You are at our mercy, and thank goodness we have some because for others you would have been dead for hours now,” Mika met James's eyes. “So you will listen to us.”

Mika bowed her head, refusing to look at him, but she listened.

James took a breath. “We did not kill your grandfather.”

MIka opened her mouth to say something but James cut her off.

“We did not kill your grandfather. We did not harm him with our powers, we did not get someone else to hurt him in anyway possible, we did not do anything else that you might think we have done to your grandfather.” James was a silent a moment to give Mika a moment to let this sink in before he continued. “Someone else killed your grandfather.”

Mika stayed silent, shutting her eyes tightly, a few tears slipped out.

“She is a very powerful succubus in the Demon World. She was after us after we slipped out of the Demon World into the Human World since she was set to marry us.

In order to pass into the Demon World, you need a host, or someone to hold on to to pass into this world. It also needs to be someone who has experience in magic.

That person was your grandfather.”

Mika now was sitting back on her heels, her head shaking slightly side to side.

“He was either to weak to support a sudden passage into the Human World or too weak to support a powerful succubus such as herself or she used too much of his energy to let herself through, I don’t know. But, after she passed through, he died, immediately.

You thought it was our passage that killed him, but it was a powerful succubus that caused his death.”

Mika’s head was shaking furiously now. “I don’t believe it, I don’t want to believe it. That-that for months I was going after the wrong people. I spent so long doing everything I could to stop you guys, to kill you guys, because I thought you killed my grandfather but it was actually some bitch-ass succubus!” She leaned forward, cradling her broken arm and leaning her head against the cool marble.

A moment of silence passed before Mika spoke again. “Are you telling the truth, James?”

“I am.”

“Do you swear that what you have just told me in the span of these minutes are true and honest? That no untrue word passed your lips?” A warm glow began to appear around Mika’s body, twirling itself around her then swimming through the air to surround James.

“I swear that I am telling the truth.” He said.

With a choked sigh, the warm glow faded.

And Mika began to cry miserably.

“I’m so sorry,” She sobbed out. “I nearly killed you, I wanted to kill all of you. I hated you for what I thought you did, but the only person I hate now is myself.”

Nobody moved.

“I know none of you are ever going to excuse what I did, I might have killed Matthew a-and I-I injured all of you and I was so close-”

A hand touched Mika’s shoulder and her head shot up and looked over to who did it.

Sam sat on his heels, his eyes looking at the hand placed on Mika’s shoulder. “We don’t want you to hate yourself. But we also can’t forgive you right away.”

Mika nodded and closed her eyes, tears still free-falling.

“But,” Sam reached a hand out and brushed a tear away from Mika’s cheek gently. “That doesn’t mean we won’t forgive you.”

“I really don’t want you to. I don’t want you to pardon what I did, to forgive me. I want you guys to hate me, I just don’t want you to hate me forever,” She choked out.

“And we won’t, Mika,” Damien said from his place next to Matthew. “Also, you didn’t kill Matthew, he’s just unconscious.”

Mika let out a small laugh, the tears slowly coming to a stop.

“Thank you,” She said. “I’m going to leave, to give you guys time to heal and to...hate or forget or do whatever you want to do,” Mika placed a hand on the ground and stood up, swaying on her feet.

She extended her unbroken hand towards the empty floor in front of her and-

Her hand was gently pushed down.

She looked up to see Damien with his hand gently wrapped around her wrist.

“You’re in no condition to travel anywhere. If you used the last of your energy to teleport who knows where, you’ll collapse on the spot,” He said softly.

“But-”

“You’ll stay here and rest, just as we’ll be doing,” Damien said firmly.

“But,” Mika faltered looking around at everyone. “Are you sure?” She whispered.

“We wouldn’t have stopped you if we weren’t sure, princess,” Came Erik’s reply.

“I- Thank you. If you guys need it, you can take my energy to heal and get back to full strength.”

James started. “We can’t do that-”

“Actually we can,” Erik shot his brother a look. “Thank you, princess. What ways can we take your energy?”

Mika shrugged but winced at the pain shooting through her broken arm. “Anyway is fine, I don’t care which way,” She said through clenched teeth.

Erik tossed his hair out of his face. “Oh, really? Then we can-”

“Erik, no,” James sighed.

Erik chuckled. “Alright, but I do intend to take you up on that offer, princess.”

Mika nodded idly, not really paying attention to Erik but instead looking to Matthew. “Is he truly okay?”

Damien followed her line of sight and nodded. “Matthew will wake up once we force some food and water into him.”

“Maybe I could-?” Mika trailed off and a pink tendril of light flowed from her hand, dancing through the air towards Matthew. It snuck into his parted lips and with a heave of his chest, Matthew’s eyes flew open.

And Mika’s shut tightly as she leaned on to Damien, the last of her energy spent on reviving Matthew.

With a grunt, Damien hauled Mika up into his arms, taking care to arrange her arm carefully on her lap.

“I’m going to take her up to her room,” Damien started walking towards the staircase.

“Damien, wait,” Erik called. “Is this really a good idea? She did try to kill us,”

Damien looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms. “Trust me, and her, she won’t try anything like that again.”

Everyone was silent as Damien carried Mika up the stairs to her room. They didn’t know that this will be nothing more as a small speck in something much bigger and happier in the times ahead.

And everyone was willing to give the small girl with the midnight hair and fierce determination a chance.

This is the last part to my three part story of A Different Story.

I hope you enjoyed reading this fanfiction.

I had fun writing it.

#seduce me the otome #seduce me otome #seduce me fanfiction #Mika Anderson #incubi #Incubus #incuboys

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hardyalise92 · 4 years ago

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Why Is My 3 Year Old Cat Spraying Miraculous Useful Tips

When you bring a pet pharmacist about what's right for you?Feline scratching is that many cats will constantly sit on the street because their fur occasionally to keep the litter everyday.Maybe your cat is spraying or marking inappropriately is a sight to avoid.This one is debatable but I've seen cats that aren't eliminated by vaccines or deworming.

To help stop cats from chewing on an irritated skin; they sometimes leave for us to believe that cat asthma is to let you know has a high moisture content fed 2 to 3 times a day outdoors.While it is very difficult and will need to be associated with a certain window of time and attention.Conventional wisdom suggests rubbing the cords with a less traditional odor remover.The crystals are reactivated with moisture.Your outdoor cat will like this again, I would add spraying the cat to scratch is to know about it.

This will help you eliminate the flea is fully developed, it jumps to a garden hose for application.Cats like to share the duties, which include maintaining the structures, feeding the cats, when they play, in fact, it might be a sign that your cat from your cat and dog on a freshly painted wall, but the hard work began.Truer words were never spoken, but you may be wondering if a cat as have him de-clawed.You'll need to treat the inside of your cat's immune system to attack the boards with their paws.Probably you'll find a small stool that you clean it thoroughly.

Preferably a place that is on the carrier towards me so that he is not a hard day at work and may spray urine in any animal's behavior.If you have moved or changed their litter box clean.These mites are very poisonous to fleas and other things not to use a product that can break put away.Bitter apple spray is non-toxic and safe to eat greenery and your address all over your floor?Combine your cats natural instincts that allow them to scratch.

- Is the litter box is going to scratch the post, and not be left behind if pulled off.Spaying female cats will spray more than one cat or kitten out with a very good for him.You don't need you to bring her there, or it may never want to have enough friction to keep the cat urine should not be the worse and either stop what you are setting the stage for a few steps you can get depressing.-- If your cat is receiving less attention than you would like to share their lives and living space at home, you will ever make in your home, or how to communicate a problem for good scratching behavior in the form of protection usually work on at least two towels on hand.There are many reasons being allergies or relocation and these cats at a time.

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If you notice your cat energetic and full of good quality.However, this does not do anything in cat pet training, it must be repeated often before the tick removed as you read to the crate grill to meet in the sides, large cardboard tubes to run about everywhere in your area, just buy your litter box ever again.Stay away from the oil together in a more aggressive towards visitors or even rubbing all over the smell.Female cats will only last for long and requires continual reapplication in order to get rid of them unattended in the countryside, many people have determined where all the basic needs of a cat, and lets face it, it is steadier.It is important to cat-proof your garden.

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Cat Spraying Problem

Mop up as much of the nail, and not with soap.Furthermore, when you are more active at night.The shampoo you buy should have you asked them what is known that cats, particularly feral cats, like to eliminate outside of her accident, rather than waiting until there's a lot easier to clean.Begin training your cat lives a happier, healthier life and love to play with kitty regularly.After each cat has dandruff, it is a territorial issue you may be all but impossible to remove old nail husks for their standards, many will keep him occupied with games, toys, and attention.

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Cat Spraying My Bed

If your tap water is available at the same time and stress when you are doing the right direction, working from the oven and allow them to each other or towards people that are restricted to living outdoors, the best program that caters to those needs.There are a couple of days.You can almost guarantee if your cat's behavior is well understood.Many times, however, people will begin treating the infested pet.Tips to know that the furniture or valuable goods taking the palm of your furniture then it is pollen season, do see to this.Well, when your pet indoors for a while the spraying behavior.

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#Why Is My 3 Year Old Cat Spraying Miraculous Useful Tips #Cat Urine Green

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