#cat eye discharge brown

[salman-bloch]

Top 6 Most Popular Cat Types and Breeds in All World? March 4, 2024 In Russia, Some People believe that having a white. cat Your name brings wealth and Prosperity, Dr Hart says. There Sometimes) Something about a cat’s Coat color evokes a Perceived Personality. For Example, calico are consider maschivous and chatty.https://shorturl.at/dhMOU

[vasyandii]

PHAYVANH "NAK" SOTSVAHN 🐉🌺

Old Introduction

Nak Reference Sheet

Nak IRL Gear References

NSFW Alphabet (TREAD LIGHTLY)

GENERAL INFORMATION

Status: ACTIVE

Year of Birth: 2000 (Aged 20)

Day of Birth: September 13

Place of Birth: Vientiane, Laos

Race: Lao

Nationality: Laotian

Languages Spoken: Lao, Thai, English, Russian

Occupation: Tactical Assault Operator, Close Quarters Combat Specialist (Chimera Member)

Affiliation(s):

Golden Triangle Cartel (Formerly)

Lao People's Armed Forces (Formerly; Dishonorably Discharged)

Allegiance

Chimera

Physical Appearance

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Black

Height: 5’2”/159 cm

Build: Lean Muscular

Scars: None

Tattoos/ Markings: Large tattoos on left upper and Center of back

BIOGRAPHY

Born in Vientiane, Laos. Living the first 15 years of her life off her uncle's fortune, partaking in the trafficking of illicit narcotics at a young age. The two were close due to them being family, not having many friends due to her uncle's line of work.

Enlisted in the LPAF by her Uncle's wishes to "Carve a better path for herself". Was not liked by her peers for her cocky attitude, overly aggressive tactics, and habit of prioritizing her personal safety over the team.

After 3 years of service in the LPAF, excelling in Close Quarters Combat, dishonorably discharged due to repeated physical altercations among teammates. Spent the next 6 months back to working for Kapano Vang despite his reluctance, eventually fleeing to Urzikstan after an argument with Vang about difference in beliefs, multiple people injured; their relationship has been strained ever since.

During her time her path crossed with Nikolai, in search of work she signed a long term contract with Chimera, with one year of service.

Shown to exhibit signs of social anxiety and difficulty forming close relationships around people her age. Inherited Kapano Vang's short temper in combat, though more relaxed outside of it.

Developed a bond with Syd, seeing her as an older sister. Often paired up with Sebastian Krueger in order to keep them both in line.

Skills and Abilities

Fighting Style: Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu

Weapon(s): Whatever is heavy

Distinct Weapon: SCAR FN PDW, Dual Push Blades

Shortcomings: Overly aggressive tactics, focus on personal safety, short temper

Family

Familial Status: Adoptive Niece

Siblings: None

Mother: Adoptive sister of Kapano Vang; (whereabouts unknown, records not found/withheld)

Uncle: Kapano “Naga” Vang; (Former warlord drug trafficker, formerly in Warsaw Pact)

Relationship with Family: Nak still idolizes her uncle to an extent, but the more that she's out in the world,the more she realizes that he isn't a good person. Nak’s mother wasn’t present in life. Her uncle took her in after mother wasn’t able to care for her. Naga trained her at a very young age; he thought it was best if she was strong in their lifestyle.

Pet: Cat person, never was allowed to have pets but she would throw scraps of food to strays.

PERSONALITY

Myers Briggs Type: ESTJ-T

Nak is an extroverted introvert, she likes and enjoys talking to people, however it drains her energy quickly since she's not used to talking to people in such a casual manner. Things like talking business she’s more used to.

Adaptable

A quick thinker, Nak is able to carry out missions by finding creative solutions to make sure her operations are successful. Outside of the battlefield her adaptability allows her to have better communication with people, even with her social anxiety.

Pragmatic

Nak strives to make the most effective solutions so it’s easier on her in the future. Her decision making skills ensure that she’ll survive in the field and outside of it.

Responsible

Living on her own, Nak is responsible, she can’t relax unless all her work is done beforehand. As she starts forming close relationships with people, she realizes that she likes taking care of people.

Negative Traits

Stubborn

Starting out Nak isn’t a very good teamplayer. She doesn’t like others telling her what to do or how to do things so she’s stubborn in a way that she’s adamant about what she wants but adaptable with what methods are needed.

Judgemental

Her formative years with Naga didn’t allow her to trust people, because of the Golden Triangle Cartel she has a habit of being overly critical of others.

Paranoid Perfectionist

Nak is self-demanding, she doesn’t take failure lightly. This leads to her paranoia of not being properly prepared. She becomes aggressive out of frustration if her ability isn’t to her liking.

TRIVIA

Nak is a shortened version of “phayanak” the mythical water serpent in Laos, it’s also the Lao pronunciation of “Naga” which is her Uncle’s name in the field.

Her face paint draws reference to how snake teeth are shown in Phayanak statues. There are multiple snake motifs in her design. Is the design practical? No, she just likes standing out in that way.

Nak cuts her own bangs (long blunt bangs) she doesn’t trust anyone with cutting them.

Has a lot of upper body and lower body strength; she can lift things heavier than her and calisthenics skills (handstands, full planches, etc.)

Often, most people's First impressions of her is that she's "Unsettling."

[afewproblems]

Steve always falls first, falls fastest.

It happened three years ago with Nancy, it happened with Robin back before the bathroom confession cemented their platonic soulmate status. It happened with Lauren MacNeal in Steve's freshman year, and Cindy Carlile back when he was eight years old.

He knows himself and knows the beginning stages. It's always quick and never painless, and seems to hurt more with every passing year. A dull ache in his chest that throbs and whispers darkly, 'remember Harrington, you'll always be bullshit'.

And when he finds himself falling for one Eddie Munson, he knows exactly when it starts.

Movie nights became a regular thing shortly after Eddie was discharged from the hospital. Robin, Steve, and Eddie all pile into the Harrington living room or the Munson trailer every other week, it's too hard to be apart.

Really, it becomes a way to keep a late night conversation going with Eddie while the credits roll, Robin dozes on the beanbag in the corner and Steve can't help but stare.

Eddie is so animated when he talks about something he loves, his brown eyes light up with his thousand watt smile and the dimples come out in full force, Steve almost has to squint with the amount of natural sunshine this man emanates when he talks about his passions.

He says as much to Robin during their next shift and she can't help but roll her eyes and gag, "Steven Remington Harrington-"

"Not my name," Steve cuts in with a laugh as he stuffs their second copy of the Shining into the machine to rewind.

"Don't interrupt dingus," Robin continues imperiously, "I get it, you have heart-eyes for the guy, but you gotta stop gushing about him to me and tell him".

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores the way his stomach swoops at the thought of telling Eddie how he feels, and the realization that it's happening again.

"I-I mean, it's not like I'm in love with the guy Robin, he stutters out eventually, "it'll go away, or he'll find someone else to talk to, they always do eventually".

He focuses on picking up the stack of freshly rewound tapes and walking them into the shelves, avoiding Robin's silent sad look that bores into the back of his head as he hides in the stacks.

Weeks turn into months and Steve absorbs nearly everything he can about Eddie.

He wears a size 10 shoe, but the 'shit-kicking' steel toes always look a smidge bigger - the inch or two it adds to Eddies height doesn't hurt either as Steve finds he has to tilt his head up to meet Eddie's gaze when he's decked out in his metal gear for a show...

He got his first guitar when he went to live with Wayne, it was a simple acoustic that he learned his chords on and practiced CCR on to his uncles delight.

He hates orange juice and loves coffee.

He loves cats and is scared to death of birds.

Every detail draws Steve in, but that small voice in the back of his mind reminds him again and again, 'they always leave Steve, don't get too comfortable'.

But how could he not?

Eddie is comfortable, he's nice and funny, and seems to enjoy hanging out with Steve almost as much as Steve enjoys being with Eddie. There is a softness to him when they're alone that makes Steve feel safe.

So what if he doesn't feel the same, Steve isn't about to give this up.

Not yet.

Steve takes to dropping by the Corroded Coffin band practice every weekend, a six pack in one hand and a small wary smile on his face - he's still not entirely accepted by Gareth and Jeff but the beer helps and Eddie vouches for him every time.

The atmosphere is still somewhat stilted, but it isnt as icy as it had been. Now Gareth even sits with him after practice while Eddie and Jeff go over their solos just outside the door as they share a joint, blowing smoke rings into the evening air.

"You know," Gareth says one night to Steve as he plops down beside him onto the sunken couch in the garage, "If someone had told me in high school I'd be sitting here with King-Steve and sharing a beer after practice, I'd laugh in their face".

Steve fights down a wince at the mention of the old nickname, and nods once. Who was he kidding, 'King-Steve' was not something he'd ever be able to outrun.

"So," Gareth continues, tapping his hands against the neck of the bottle, "how's the crush going?"

Steve chokes on his beer and swings his hand up to pound his fist into his chest to loosen up the liquid, Gareth claps him on the back with an alarmed expression on his face.

"Jesus Harrington, y'alright?" Gareth says as Steve tries to catch his breath.

Steve nods and breathes deeply through his nose, his eyes flick to the open garage door to see if Eddie or Jeff are on their way back inside, "I-I don't think I heard you right," he manages with a rasp.

Gareth snorts and shakes his head, leaning back against the couch. He's quiet for a moment, eyes trained on Steve's face.

Steve, for his part, stares resolutely at the floor hoping his gaze is strong enough to burn a hole into the concrete he can jump into.

"Look," Gareth says after a beat, "I guess its not really any of my business Harrington," his eyes travel over to the open door before flicking back to Steve, "and I don't mean to sound like a prick when I say this, but you're not really his type man".

Something in Steve's throat pulls tight, bullshit echoes in the hollow cavity of his chest as he nods and swallows the last dreggs of his beer.

"Right," Steve mumbles, he puts his hands on his knees and stands up from the couch, "Right, yeah, I mean, makes sense...".

He crosses to the door and manages to toss the now empty can into an open bin they'd officially commandeered for empties.

"Dude," Gareth says softly standing as well, he makes no move to walk towards Steve though.

Steve waves a hand and drops the other to his back pocket to hide the sudden trembling. Gareth is right, it doesn't make sense. Why would someone like Eddie ever want to be with someone like Steve? How would that even work?

Always fast but never painless, right on time.

"You guys were uh, great as usual, I'll see you around man," Steve says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, he hasn't had to pull out the 'King Steve' smile in a few years but it still fits, still manages to hide a few things.

He turns away from Gareth and walks out through the open garage door.

The sun is nearly below the horizon and the stars have begun to migrate, the inky blue of night begins to steep into the last vestiges of light, if he's careful he can slip past Eddie and Jeff without either of them noticing.

He makes it to the beemer before Eddie turns towards him.

Eddie's brown eyes widen before narrowing in a questioning stare, he opens his mouth but Steve opens the car door and quickly slides into the driver's seat.

He stares straight ahead as he backs out of the driveway and pulls out onto the road.

Steve can feel those brown eyes follow him as he makes the long drive back to his empty house.

Part Two Now Up!

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC 'Roan'

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You meet Tim Rockford in the true crime section of the library of all places.

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language, reference of self-harming + assault, meet cute, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford

Author Note: Elements of X-Men and Sherlock/Elementary mashed together because my brain said so. I've got more of these two (plus another Pedro Boy *cough* Thief *cough*) outlined if y'all are interested in seeing more of this world. It was a lot of fun attempting this new guy 😊

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Part 2

The Session

You cross your legs, trying to get comfortable, immediately grimacing when the plush leather couch squeaks as a result. Your psychologist’s office smells overwhelmingly of lavender from the burning candle on her desk. Dr. Odair insists the smell has a calming effect to combat anxiety, but you remain unconvinced. You’re unconvinced about a lot of the advice these mandatory sessions offer, actually.

“How’s your search going?” Dr. Odair asks, pen poised above a fresh sheet of paper. “Have you connected with anyone?”

According to the internet, Dr. Charlotte Odair is one of the leading experts on empaths, telepaths, and other similar mind-gifts in the world. She’s also renowned for helping discharged military personnel integrate back into civilian society which meant you didn’t have much of a choice seeing anybody else.

Most people’s emotions are a finicky and erratic mess, shifting and fluctuating depending on the countless number of influences stemming from one’s surroundings. Some feelings are easy to identify at once, others are too obscure or complex to be named. The latter are the ones which overwhelm you. The ones which bury beneath your skin, an itch you can’t scratch no matter how harshly your nails dig into your arms, deeper and deeper until they’re stained red. 

Dr. Odair’s emotions resemble crystalline waters, transparent and blatant. There’s no second-guessing with her, no hidden tricks. She’s been trained, masterfully so, to carefully bind her feelings to her will.

“Yeah, it’s been going great,” you answer, then nod down at your feet where a small, golden brown dog lies with his chin on his paws. “Connected with Banjo here over the weekend. We’re a total match for each other.”

She fixes you with a look over the thick rims of her glasses. “Is that so?”

Compared to humans, animals have a much smaller range of emotions. They broadcast exactly what they want like a neon sign, whether that be food, shelter, or a good petting. And if their desires are met, the hum of their contentment is a far more pleasant tune than most songs on the radio nowadays.

You’d actually been looking to get a cat when you went to the pet shelter, dismissing dogs as too needy and energetic for your liking, but fate had other plans. One look at the little mutt, with his tangled fur and deep, froggy bark, and you were signing the adoption paperwork within minutes. And still, even after that unexpected love at first sight moment, Banjo continues to surprise you with how easily he adapts to your routine, standing by your side like he always belonged there.

You tell Dr. Odair as much, but there’s no response even though you know she’s absorbing every word out of your mouth, turning them over in her head, analyzing each syllable. Her mood remains almost frustratingly steady, giving no indication as to what she’s thinking. That look remains though, blue eyes narrowing even further. 

“You never said my match had to be another human.” Your hands tighten around Banjo’s leash, hoping she doesn’t catch the defensive edge your voice has taken. 

Her pen starts to scribble a note across the paper, too similar to a doctor’s chicken scratch for you to read upside down. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing towards the flickering candle. Damn it. 

“Miss Roan,” Dr. Odair begins, and you taste blood on your tongue, “I know it’s annoying, being forced to attend these sessions every week, but the fact of the matter is, empaths aren’t meant to live alone. Especially not after what you’ve endured. Finding someone to match with is what your empathy needs to finally settle down.”

She makes it sound so easy, like the rest of the world doesn’t have any issues with mind-gifts and the lack of privacy that comes with them. Like there isn’t a set of laws specifically written for people who can read thoughts with a single touch or predict the future through dreams because their gifts aren’t as flashy, as visible, and thus in the eyes of the government that makes them the scariest threat of all.

On the battlefield things were different. The laws of polite society didn’t apply, not out there amongst the pools of blood and ceaseless gunfire. Your mind-gift was a tool to take advantage of, capable of numbing pain away faster than drugs and boosting the troop’s morale to a near fever-pitch. There was no time to stop and assess the damage you were self-inflicting unintentionally by overworking your empathy. Nobody who cared enough about you as a person to recognize the warning signs—not even your own self.

It was a miracle, as your commanding captain would later put it, when enemy forces staged a midnight raid on the camp and a man pinned you to the floor, radiating nothing but vulgar lust, that your lapse of control only resulted in putting every hostile within a mile radius to sleep instead of killing them instantly. 

A miracle for the unit maybe, but for you it marked the abrupt conclusion of your military career. Loss of control of one’s gifts stipulated their immediate release from serving, even if in your case it saved lives. Your discharge papers were officially signed and filed by the higher-ups before you regained consciousness three days later with a pounding headache from hell. Your mind-gift, once seen as a helpful aid to win battles, was now a time bomb dumped into the hands of Dr. Odair to deactivate. 

And what is her brilliant solution? Matching. Or, as it used to be called back in the olden days when gifts were thought to be divinely bestowed instead of being entirely unpredictable mutations in one’s genetic code, soulbonding. A powerful connection forged between two individuals, locking their gifts together and intertwining their lives until death splits them apart. 

Movies and fairytales will describe matching as the ultimate manifestation of true love, but love’s got nothing to do with it. Matching is a direct result of a human’s innate instinct to survive. It most commonly occurs when one or both members of the potential pairing possess dangerous gifts likely to cause harm to themselves. Supposedly, the bond is instantaneous once the two meet, causing their gifts to settle down, easier to control. Balancing each other out as if they were two halves of the same whole.

Sounds wonderful. In theory, at least. The biggest problem with matching is it can’t be done with just any random person. It can’t be forced either, not even between established couples. The bond happens solely on the choice of the gifts, not the will of the people involved. The hows and whys and other intricate details of the fateful decision-making process remain a mystery, one perhaps beyond mankind’s ability to ever solve, but regardless, it’s hard to argue against the overwhelmingly positive end results. To date, every recorded pair has admitted their match stabilized their gifts and saved their lives from an early death.

So until your mind-gift figures out who it wants, all you can do is walk the streets of Fox Leap, searching for just the right stranger in a sea of wrong strangers, empathy buzzing like a live wire pressed against your brain with each disappointing encounter.

“I am looking.” You’re being honest, despite what the dropping of your eyes to the floor might suggest. It’s too difficult to meet her gaze, afraid of the pity you might find shining through her carefully maintained facade. “I’m just not sure they want to be found.”

The Meeting

You meet Tim Rockford in the true crime section of the library of all places.

Fox Leap Central Library has essentially become your second home ever since you sought shelter from the rain one miserably gray afternoon two weeks after moving there. It’s one of the few places in the city that doesn’t make you feel like ants are crawling along your spinal cord, designed with dozens of cozy spaces to curl up with a good book and cup of coffee and zone out for a couple of blissful hours.

Your eyes are drifting over the colorful covers of fantasy books offering to transport you to alternate universes full of mythical beasts when you feel it. A flash of anger, stronger and more intense than anything you’ve ever felt, illuminating your mind-gift identical to a streak of lightning tearing through the darkness of night.

The emotion fades just as fast as it made itself known, but your empathy bays like a bloodhound picking up a scent trail, urging you to follow it to the source. Your fingers twitch at your side. Not with the desire to scratch, you realize with surprise, but to soothe. You haven’t felt this kind of compulsion since you’d been on the frontlines, taking away the pain from bullet-stricken soldiers, but that had been your purpose back then, a duty expected to fulfill. 

This…This is a purely selfish want.

You bite your lip, glance down at Banjo, tail wagging as if to say what are we waiting for?, and then surrender to the temptation.

Three aisles down stands the library’s only other occupant in sight: a tall, broad-shouldered man in a white shirt and tan trench coat with dark, unkempt hair like he’s been running his fingers through it lately. He’s rubbing at his stubbled jawline, brown eyes glaring beneath furrowed brows at a book on serial killers. 

He’s the perfect example of tall, dark and handsome but it’s not his looks that has your pulse quickening, a flutter of something dangerously akin to hope beginning to stir. If Dr. Odair’s emotions are a crystalline pool, then this man’s are an ocean in the midst of a storm. Turbulent on the surface, rough and irritable, concealing unexpectedly mesmerizing depths luring your mind-gift to dive deeper and deeper–

“Psychic or empath?” the man asks without looking away from the shelf, a slight raspiness to his voice that has your stomach flip-flopping before full awareness of his question even registers.

Startled back into your own head, you can only manage an eloquent, “Huh?”

He finally turns, piercing you with his gaze, intense yet not unkind. The storm afflicting his temperament lessens some, followed by a series of feather-light curious touches along the edges of your mind-gift.

You suck in a breath, expecting the stinging bolt of displeasure that usually follows when someone interacts with your empathy. Whether they’re being delicate or not, it’s never fun to have the most sensitive part of yourself poked and prodded and toyed with. But there are no symptoms of a headache in the seconds that follow. Only a strange sort of thrill at the connection. A sense of rightness.

And there’s that damn fluttering again…

Once again, you find yourself caught off-guard, unsure how the roles have swapped so quickly from you seeking to comfort a stranger to now you being comforted by him.

“Empath,” he says after another beat, answering his own question with a confidence that’s neither tentative nor arrogant. It sounds like a regular fact of life. The sky is blue, the sun is hot, and you’re an empath. 

“Y-yeah, that’s right.” You nod your head, hands trembling where they are clutching Banjo’s leash. God, you don’t understand what’s wrong with you, why his stare has such a strong effect on your galloping heartbeat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

The man looks down at Banjo then, taking in his snaggletoothed grin and perked ears with a soft smile of his own. “Cocker, poodle, schnauzer—interesting ancestry. I bet you have quite the story to tell.”

How did he–? You shake your head, getting your thoughts in some semblance of an order now that you’re no longer the sole focus of his attention. “This is Banjo. I adopted him from the shelter last weekend. We’re still getting to know each other.”

“Oh, good,” his soft grin widens, revealing a dimple in the side of his cheek. “It won’t take long to catch up then. How do you feel about takeout?”

You blink, frowning because huh? Is he just asking your opinion or is he asking something…more? It’s been so long since you’ve been asked on a date, you’re not even sure what the common etiquette is anymore. Isn’t everything arranged online nowadays? Swiping left or right and all that app rubbish?

“My schedule is unpredictable which leaves little time for cooking or grocery shopping, so at least three days a week I order takeout,” he continues, seemingly oblivious to your increasing confusion. “I also have frequent bouts of chronic insomnia, sometimes I’m up for days without any sleep.”

“Why are you telling me this?” 

The question comes out sounding ruder than it had in your head, but if he’s offended by it the man shows no outward sign. “I figured if I were in your shoes, I’d want to know upfront the annoying traits of who I’ve matched with.”

“Who I’ve–?” you choke on the words, eyes widening.

Oh, you think faintly, a strange clarity sweeping over you, at last connecting the dots that seem so incredibly obvious now. What better reprieve for an overwhelmed mind-gift than an underwater safe haven muffling the chaos of the city. It’s you.

The Offer

“Rockford,” the man—your match—says, extending a hand to shake, warm and calloused. “Tim Rockford.”

You introduce yourself, probably looking a bit unhinged with how wide you’re grinning but you can’t help it. You finally found your match. The urge to run to Dr. Odair’s office and jump on her sofa, screaming he’s actually fucking real! at the top of your lungs is near irresistible.  

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Rockford says. “I had a feeling our paths would cross soon once I settled into my new place. An apartment a couple blocks from here. Three bedrooms. One for me, one for my office, and the other is yours if you’re interested.”

Your eyebrows lift incredulously. “Seriously?”

“A good roommate is hard to find these days,” Rockford responds easily, shrugging. “Who better to live with than my match?”

You think about sharing a space with someone else. Someone who's human that you can have a two-way conversation with over meals, who doesn’t react to your mind-gift with repulsion or contempt. He makes a good point; good roommates are hard to find. A yes sits on the tip of your tongue, held back by a little voice in the back of your head insisting it’s too good to be true. He’ll grow tired of you eventually. Get sick of you dipping in and out of his head like a parasite. You should say no. There’s too much of a high potential you’ll wind up hurt and alone again. It’s too risky.

But, another voice chimes in, deep down beside the fragile hope, if it worked out for all the other matched pairs, then aren’t the odds in your favor? 

“You barely know me,” is what ends up coming out of your mouth, a weak extending of a shovel for him to dig himself out of his offer.

He hums a thoughtful note, head tilting to one side, and your shoulders start to instinctively tense up in preparation of rapid backpedaling. A sudden wave washes over your mind-gift, though, steady reassurance drowning your budding fears.

“I know you’ve recently been discharged from the military,” he begins calmly, that same matter-of-fact tone from before. “I know you’re new to the city, not by personal choice but because you must attend mandatory sessions with a psychologist who resides here and has an excellent reputation with patients sharing your similar background. You’ve begun dreading the appointments—possibly because of trust issues, more likely because until you meet your match there’s very little she can do for your empathy and that frustrates you. And I know you adopted Banjo hoping he would pass as a substitute for me, but while he’s been helpful providing companionship, your mind-gift has continued causing you pain up until our meeting.” A pause for a quiet breath. “I think we have quite a solid foundation already, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Roan?”

“I–you–what?” You blink dumbly at him, brain function short-circuiting. Seriously, what? “How on earth…?”

“We all have our gifts."

And maybe it’s because he doesn’t elaborate further, meeting your quizzical stare evenly, still emanating steady reassurance, that makes it surprisingly easy for you to make a decision. You want to know this man. Not just his likes and dislikes, no, you want to know his happiness, his hurt, all the miserable shades of his sadness and every sharp pang of his rage. You want to look at him the way he looks at you: confident and steadfast. Unique to him in all the world.

If the stories are true and he’s going to be a part of your life for a long, long time, then you have the distinct feeling you’re going to need every one of those precious seconds to understand the infinite depths of Tim Rockford.

So, you nod your head. “Okay,” you tell him, lips curling at the corners into another wide grin when you detect how pleased he is with your agreement. “Let’s give it a try.”

“Meet me there tomorrow afternoon,” he says, grabbing the book he’d been burning holes into earlier with his glare. “445D Albatross Lane. Bright yellow door, can’t miss it.”

Then, turning on his heel in one fluid movement, he heads for the front desk, leaving you to process how a single meeting has just shifted your entire world on its axis.

[kaatiba]

The Storyteller, The Djinn, & The Prince | Prologue (2.0)

The moon is a thin paring in the sky surrounded by a spangle of stars. Insects chirp their night songs, the symphony mingling with the crackle and pop of the fire. Ilyas is idly considering taking another helping of the meaty stew when movement in the dark catches his eye.

A shadow peels away from the deeper shadow of the forest’s edge to the east. It walks like a person, but where its head should be is a misshapen lump. Remembering all the stories he’s heard of the beings and creatures that roam the wild, Ilyas reaches for his knife, unsheathing it slowly, quietly, hiding the movement in the fold of his bedroll.

Zsa Zsa, the great war cat stretched out between him and his dozing sister, flicks her ears at the soft sound of scraping metal, opening her golden eyes. She spots the stranger and, black tail lashing, surges upright. His sister wakes with an inquiring hum, alerted that something is amiss.

“Hold,” he murmurs to Zsa Zsa, and she does, all contained tension in sleek muscles.

“Trouble?” Nilam murmurs, sitting up with all the appearance of simply rousing to stretch languidly.

He hums a maybe as she reaches for the crossbow at her side and arms it with swift, sure movements, never taking her eyes from the approaching stranger. 

Wings flare about the being’s head; Ilyas realizes the stranger must be carrying a bird on their shoulder just as the creature leaps to the ground. That is no bird, he thinks, watching it move, the way its eyes glow green in the reflection of his fire.

When the pair are only a few feet away, Ilyas stands, taking no pains to hide his weapon. “Salām,” he calls cautiously. “Do you want to join our camp for the night? You’re welcome to. We have a bit of food, if you’re hungry.”

“Was’salām,” the stranger replies, voice low and rough. “I am—I would be glad of the fire and the food, but more so the company.”

Ilyas chokes on a breath. That voice—

Beside him, his sister tenses, sweeping to her feet nearly as smoothly as Zsa Zsa does. “Step into the light,” she demands. 

The shadow shuffles forward…and the orange glow of the fire illuminates the planes of a familiar face. Almost familiar. Her soft brown eyes—brown eyes that he has dreamed about these past months, brown eyes he has grieved—are brown no longer. They are instead a pale and eerie blue. 

“Halah?” Ilyas gasps, his grip on his knife faltering.

Nilam swings her crossbow up and aims it unerringly at the woman’s chest. The creature at her feet—half-bird, half-cat, all black but for a shock of white on its crest and breast—cries out high and piercing in warning.

“How dare you,” Nilam hisses furiously, uncowed. “How dare you wear her face!”

But it’s Halah’s voice that comes from the woman’s mouth, Halah’s voice that says, “I swear in the Name of the Creator of the heavens and the earth and all the realms between—it’s me, Nilam. It’s really me.”

There is incontestable power in oaths, and oaths made in the Creator’s Name are inviolable. With a choked exclamation, Nilam discharges and shoves her crossbow into Ilyas’s unresistant hands and throws herself forward to sweep Halah into a crushing hug.

Halah laughs brokenly and embraces her back just as tightly as Ilyas drinks in the sight of her. When Nilam finally lets her go, both their faces are wet with tears, and Ilyas remembers himself enough to force his gaze away. 

The winged creature had scurried out of the way of the two women and now sits at his feet. It and Zsa Zsa are examining each other with wary curiosity. The cat sniffs at the creature. The creature consents to be sniffed at. Ilyas has only ever heard of such animals in legends, but he knows it immediately for what it is. 

“Salām, little shirdal,” he says, wondering if it’s friendly. “What a lovely thing you are.”

“His name’s Nujyam,” Halah says, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her palm, “He’s been a very good friend to me. My little star in the dark.”

Ilyas takes in how worn and harrowed she looks. She’s far too thin, dressed in odd and unfamiliar clothes of strange and shifting material, and her eyes…

“I couldn’t believe it, when I saw the fire,” she says, looking away from him and at the flames. “Couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t have to beg shelter from strangers. Couldn’t believe that the first people I’d come across would be you two… All praise to the One.”

“Come, sit,” Nilam insists, drawing Halah down by the fire, “Eat with us. We’ve questions for you, and by the looks of it you need some bracing before we can interrogate you.”

Halah laughs again, no less brokenly but this time with bitterness underscoring it, and sits. She sighs deeply after her first bite of the stew, eyes drifting shut, veiling the unsettling blue. “This is delicious,” she murmurs. 

“You know how Ilyas is with his spices,” Nilam says proudly. “Though you can thank Zsa Zsa and me for the pheasant.”

“I thank you both,” Halah says, and devotes herself to eating with a ravenousness that alarms them both. It takes Ilyas everything in him not to demand answers from her immediately, to allow her the peace of her meal. It’s the same for Nilam; he can tell by the fixed nature of her attention on Halah. 

To occupy himself, he boils water from his canteen and prepares some coffee. It’s ready by the time she’s scraped her bowl clean, and she accepts a cup with alacrity, cradling it in her hands and inhaling the aroma long and deep.

“You’ve been exemplars of patience,” she sighs, after taking a sip. “And now answers are the least of what I owe you. Go ahead; ask me what you will.”

 “What happened to you?” Nilam exclaims instantly. “We couldn’t get an explanation from their Majesties or from your blasted husband—

“Nilam,” Ilyas reprimands quietly, but she ignores him.

“—and all anyone would say was that you’d vanished! Simply disappeared, and then people began to say you’d run off with some—” She breaks off, scowling. “I knew you hadn’t. We knew you hadn’t—me and Ilyas and your family. Everyone with sense knew something must have happened, that someone was lying or keeping secrets, and—we thought you were dead,” she finishes bleakly.

“Well, I’m not,” Halah answers with a wan smile. “I'm basically hale, in fact. Except for—” She waves a hand at her eyes. “Except for these.” Her gaze flicks to them both and then away, down at Nujaym, who has settled in her lap comfortably, wings folded along his back. “I did not abandon Raoul. But before I explain…how long has it been, exactly?”

Ilyas and Nilam glance at each other with mingled dismay and concern. Finally, Ilyas answers. “Four months and a sennight,” he tells her, almost unembarrassed by the specificity of his answer. 

Halah nods as though unsurprised, but her cup trembles in her grasp. “Four months,” she murmurs. “Not so long a time, in the end. And yet too long. Far too long.”

“What happened?” Nilam asks again, gentler this time, when Halah trails off. “Where have you been all this time?”

For a long while, Halah doesn’t answer. Nilam goes to prompt her again, but Ilyas lays a hand on her knee with a speaking look and she subsides. He recognizes the face of one gearing up to convey a horror they have long endured in silence. He’s seen it on soldiers and former slaves and those who have suffered some sort of depredation. 

His heart aches for her. He steels himself to hear what horrible trial she’s endured, for only such a thing would have kept her from her family for so long without a word, would have left her wandering the roads, alone, at night, to be found by them only by good fortune. 

At last, she speaks. In a voice roughened by restrained emotion, she says,  “I’ve been in the Unseen Realm. I’ve been with the djinn. 

They stole me away.”

*

Read & Response Swap taglist: @malglories, @owlsandwich, @satohqbanana, @thelittlestspider, @treesandwords

I'm so delighted and honoured that you guys are doing this for me! And I'm so looking forward to reading your works! Thank you ❤

For those interested in participating, interact with this post!

[toastthewolfie]

again.

*coughs blood* its done idk why but she’s here and she’s very silly

information from @olibird’s template! :D (i hope the tag is okay!!!!)

Tw for self harm (under ‘Issues’) and a vague mention of suicide in the backstory. And discussion of death i suppose. I dunno, sorry, it’s late and im tired

Name: Astrid Ek (I swear i tried to figure out a better name but this is the name that stuck when i searched up stuff about common names in Sweden

Aliases: N/A

Nationality: Swedish/American       Ethnicity: Swedish/British (Mother is Swedish, her father is British)

Age:  23              DoB: (M/D/Y) 09/10/1990

Pronouns: She/Her         Gender: Cis Female

Sex: F

Sexuality: Demisexual, Demiromantic, and Bisexual

Height: 6’

Languages: Swedish (Native), English (Secondary)

Which CoD Universe: the Modern Warfare Reboot timeline

Branches of Service: United States Army

Affiliation:  U.S. Army (formerly), Shadow Company (Current)

Specialties: Debriefing. She does a lot of paperwork (she’s basically a desk jockey but with the skills to kick someone’s ass if needed)

Personality: Serious (and judgemental). Jokes go over her head like 70% of the time (mostly because she’s incredibly sleep deprived most days) and she sometimes will just blankly stare at you because she thinks you’re weird or just.. thinks that the shit you just said is very 😨

Backstory: 

        Born and raised in a military family, Astrid grew up moving around a lot before her family settled in America after her mother’s discharge and her father retiring at the age of 11 in Seattle. Feeling slightly pressured, Astrid signed up for basic training for the United States Army at 21 after receiving her bachelors in analytics where she met her friend, Emily. The two quickly became best friends who pushed the other up during training (and got into mischief together). 

         Of course, all good things must end and on a mission 6 years later, Emily pushed Astrid out of the way of a gunner, sacrificing her life to protect her. Unable to operate on the field after that (despite multiple attempts to do so), Astrid retired from the army, almost immediately running into Phillip Graves at a random bar. The two managed to get talking and it somehow ended with Phillip inviting Astrid into joining shadow company and, having nothing else to do and knowing she’d probably kill herself if she didn’t, she agreed on the spot.

She’s been here ever since, so she’s going on 8 years.

Issues: sleep deprivation, protective to a fault, easy to anger (even if she doesn’t show it), overworking, and sometimes scratches at herself hard enough to draw blood when stressed

Habits: If anyone is injured on a mission, Astrid has a habit of either following at a distance if it’s serious or grabbing the injured party and checking them over herself before sending them to medical.

Scars: Small scratches at the base of her ribs.

Preferred method of showing care/affection/love language: Physical Touch and Acts of Service

Preferred way of receiving care/affection: Quality Time and Physical Touch.

Eye Color: Grey

Hair description: Blonde (greying out a bit)

Clothing description: 

Waist-length green jacket with a bunch of pockets and a swedish flag on the left sleeve, light grey turtleneck, greyish brown belt, bluish grey pants and black and grey cat-like boots (just because she’s serious doesn’t mean she can’t have some silly boots (Emily liked them on her so she’s used them ever since))

Body description: Semi-Built but otherwise skinny.

Favorite Activities: I dunno, she doesn’t get a lot of free time (self imposed. She feels the need to work until she can’t just to try and protect her the shadows

Blood Type: B-

Favorite color: Green

Favorite animal: Cats

Favorite food/Dessert: Carrots. I dunno she likes snacking on them when she gets the chance.

Other Fun Facts:

Doesn’t speak in English if it’s not necessary. She finds that it’s easier to convey her thoughts in Swedish than in English

Can/Will pass out from exhaustion in literally in any position if she can’t work anymore

Sleep talks (more like sleep mumbles) in swedish about random combat terms

Will sometimes just subconsciously ruffle the hair of anyone shorter than them if they did a good job (for people taller than her, they get a soft tap on the side or shoulder because she can’t reach their hair. Will sometimes hug someone if they look like they need it (and they like hugs, ofc)

she’s not scared of needles, she also knows how to administer narcan if absolutely necessary (for some reason, her mother decided that it was something she should know)

Feel free to ask any questions about her :)

[dudeshusband]

Title: To Tame a Lion

Word Count: 750

Ship: Mike/Pete Nelson

Description: For the safeshiptember day 1 prompt "first date/meeting." I've done a meeting.

With the limited profit Clyde Brent Circus had been making, it had been quite some time since anyone new had been hired. This is what struck Mike immediately about the curly-headed man and his goofy friend. Word around the other employees was that whichever was named Jerry had been hired as a lion tamer. Looking the two over as they received their blue jumpsuits, Mike could only figure it was the curly-headed one. He appeared at first glance to be stronger, braver, and less goofy than his friend.

The pair left to put on the jumpsuits, and when they returned they were assigned to clean by the elephants, a job Mike had often done. 

Mike approached the pair. “Hi! I’ve worked here for some time now and I can show you where the elephants are if you like.” 

On closer look, it seemed that the curly-headed one had brown eyes, very beautiful brown eyes. 

“You must be Jerry, right?” Mike asked. “The lion tamer?” 

He laughed. His eyes crinkled when he laughed, which somehow made them prettier. “Oh, no, he’s Jerry. I’m Pete.” 

Mike looked at Jerry. He had a goofy but friendly smile and did not seem to have a lion tamer’s disposition. “You’re the lion tamer?” 

Jerry nodded. “For now! I’m going to be a clown.” 

“We already have our clowns,” Mike said. “Puffo’s our main one.” 

“He’s a better clown,” Pete said confidently “He’ll show you.”

Mike shared Pete’s smile. “I’d like to see that. Anyway, the elephants are this way, if you’ll follow me.” 

All the way there, the trio picked up whatever litter they found and put into their bags. Eventually they came to the elephant tent. 

“This is one of the dirtiest areas, as you can imagine,” Mike said. 

Jerry crinkled up his nose. “Smells like elephant booty.” 

“You know that from personal experience?” Mike asked. 

That got a chuckle out of everybody. 

“Pete, why don’t you take up lion taming?” Jerry asked. 

“You kiddin’?” Pete asked, slightly incredulously. “Work with those cats? Not me!” 

Jerry made a disgruntled noise as he continued to pick up trash. 

“You got nothin’ to worry about. You got moxie. So what if they’re wild, who cares? Once you get in there, you’ll control ‘em. Even though they’re” — Pete leans in close to Jerry, cupping his mouth — “Killers and man-eaters.” 

Mike chuckled. 

“Hotchkiss!” their supervisor, Sam, yelled eventually. 

Both Pete and Jerry turned. 

Apparently Jerry was Jerry Hotchkiss since Sam approached him and demanded “Report to Colonel Schlitz.” 

“Colonel Schlitz?” Jerry asked. 

Colonel Schlitz was the circus’ current lion tamer, an old German man. 

“Oh, no! No!” Jerry said, beginning to panic. He dropped his things and took off in a sprint. 

“Hotchkiss!” Sam yelled. He bolted after him. 

“Crazy mixed-up kid,” Pete commented, while picking up more trash. 

“So, uh, Pete,” Mike said awkwardly. “Did you come all the way out here just to see your friend get eaten by lions? You don’t seem like the circus type.” 

“Well, I’m broke, I needed a job, and Jerry had an invite to work here at the circus,” Pete said. “Between you and me, I’m looking to move up.” 

Mike chuckled. “Move up? I’ve worked here for two years. Same spot.” 

He smiled. “I got my ways.” 

“Oh, if you think you’ll get over on Jill Brent, think again.” 

His eyes sparkled. “Get over on? I’m not gettin’ over on anybody. I think she’ll find I’m a great worker.” 

There was something almost suggestive in that statement but Mike couldn’t put their finger on how or why. 

“So, what did you do before you got here, Pete?” 

“I was in the army,” he said. “I was a corporal. Honorably discharged.” 

“Army man. That’s nice.” 

“What about you, huh? What’s a pretty girl doing picking up trash in a circus?” 

Mike scoffed. “Well, you’re wrong on two counts.”

“You’re picking up trash and this is a circus. So, are you debatin’ the pretty or the girl?” 

“Both,” Mike said. 

He smiled. “Well, what did you say your name was?” 

Mike internally cursed at themselves. “Oh, sorry, it’s Mike.” 

“Well, Mike, you can debate me on the girl but you can’t debate me on the pretty.” 

He gave them another charming grin then turned. As he walked away to pick up trash in another spot, Mike was frozen in a state of shock. They couldn't help but watch him as he went further and further into the distance.

Maybe he did have his ways…

[solitaryandwandering]

Please help! Dog in need!

I've never made a post asking for any kind of money, but this is urgent. On Friday, my best friend (I'll call them D) was driving back home from a long day working in near-100° heat when they noticed an emaciated dog walking in the middle of the road. When they pulled over the dog immediately came up to her and tried to get in her car (which she couldn’t do without help). She seems to be no younger than two years old but has already clearly been pregnant. It’s not uncommon to run across stray dogs in central/southern Virginia; we suspect she used to be a hunter’s dog, which are often purposefully starved. She has tons of fleas and tick bites, sores, is missing parts of two of her toes, and is now showing signs of ringworm. She showed signs of fear when my friend tried to put a leash on her but is amazingly super sweet and affectionate, always asking for pets and attention. D and her boyfriend have named her Melon.

[ID: Melon, a young dog with a light brown and black coat, looks towards the camera. She is emaciated, her tail between her legs. A large red collar attaches her to a leash. End ID]

My friend has been dog-sitting and asked that person if they could keep this dog in her basement until future notice. She would take her home if it weren’t for her cat. It’s highly unlikely this dog has been vaccinated. Since it’s the weekend she’s been unable to get in contact with any vets or shelters and animal control has been entirely unhelpful. They’ve given Melon a bath and given her food and water. Melon has had a bout of diarrhea, is discharging a bit from her eyes and has been bleeding from her vagina, but has otherwise been super cuddly and sweet.

[ID: Melon rests on the floor with her head on my friend's lap. They are scratching her chest. Melon is wearing a new collar. End ID]

D has created a GoFundMe to cover costs of more food, a new collar and name tag, and other care items. She still needs money to cover a future vet visit and what’s looking like a long road of recovery. Any money left over will be donated to local animal welfare charities. If you can, please donate or share this post. Anything helps. Melon deserves better!

Here is the GoFundMe with more info: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-us-support-melons-road-to-recovery?attribution_id=sl:3d8d3a67-9cb8-4d19-9dfc-19702f183617&utm_campaign=man_sharesheet_ft&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

[welcometololaland]

thanks for the tag @largepeachicedtea and @firstprince-history-huh. there's nothing i love more than telling everyone way too much about myself! hands up if you want my address and social security number?

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

allegedly my parents didn't know what to name me, so I was "no name" [last name] at the hospital and when they discharged me and my mum my parents had to pick something so i somehow ended up with the same name as my midwife. wonder why.

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

unsure, but i cried like a baby at episode 2 of ted lasso. i thought this was supposed to be a comedy?!

THREE: Do you have kids?

no, but i have a cat that bites me.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

yes. poorly.

FIVE: What sports have you played/do you play?

i used to be a competitive track and road cyclist, a rower and did track and field. i also played netball and rode horses a lot as a child. my dad tried to get me into triathlon before he realised how bad i was/am at swimming. other sports growing up included basketball, gymnastics, volleyball, tennis, diving and rugby league so yeah...i played a lot of sport lmao.

now i just do a lot of distance running...and i'm an elite level pole dancer. so that's cool.

SIX: What's the first thing you notice about people?

probably their facial expressions.

SEVEN: What's your eye colour?

dark brown.

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings, i'm a complete coward.

NINE: Any special talents?

i think pole dancing is my special talent purely because it's a bit out of the ordinary?

TEN: Where were you born?

similar to other respondents, in a hospital.

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

hanging out at the pole studio pretending to train, writing porn on the internet, annoying my cat, annoying my friends, oversharing on tumblr...the usual.

TWELVE: Do you have any pets?

yes, a mean foster-fail cat.

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

FIVE NINE BABY (perfectly average according to mr. claremont-diaz)

FOURTEEN: Favourite subject in school?

history, psychology, politics

FIFTEEN: Dream job

definitely not what i do now, but in any case, if i could be paid to write silly fanfiction that would be a dream

tagging to overshare with me: @iboatedhere @rmd-writes @celeritas2997 @clottedcreamfudge @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry @alrightbuckaroo @alltheprettyplaces @cha-melodius @bonheur-cafe @guardian-angle22 @liminalmemories21 @carlos-in-glasses @catanisspicy @jesuisici33 @actual-sleeping-beauty

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Warrior Cats Prefixes- L

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

Laburnum-: "[noun] a small European tree that has hanging clusters of yellow flowers succeeded by slender pods containing poisonous seeds"

Lagoon-: "[noun] a small freshwater lake near a larger lake or river"

Lake-: "[noun] a large body of water surrounded by land"

Lamb-: "[noun] a young sheep"

Lamprey-: "[noun] an eel-like aquatic jawless vertebrate that has a sucker mouth with horny teeth and a rasping tongue"

Lapis-: "[noun] a deep-blue metamorphic rock used as a semi-precious stone"

Larch-: "[noun] a deciduous conifer tree native to the cooler regions of the northern hemisphere, where they are found in lowland forests in the high latitudes, and high in mountains further south"

Lark-: "[noun] a small ground-dwelling songbird, typically with brown streaky plumage, a crest, and elongated hind claws, and with a song that is delivered in flight"

Larkspur-: "[noun] an annual Mediterranean plant of the buttercup family, which bears spikes of spurred flowers"

Laurel-: "[noun] any of a number of shrubs and other plants with dark green glossy leaves; [noun] an aromatic evergreen shrub related to the bay tree, several kinds of which form forests in tropical and warm countries"

Lavender-: "[noun] a member of the genus of 47 known species of perennial flowering plants in the mints family, Lamiaceae. It is native to the Old World, primarily found across the drier, warmer regions of mainland Eurasia"

Leaf-: "[noun] a flattened structure of a higher plant, typically green and blade-like, that is attached to a stem directly or via a stalk"

Leech-: "[noun] an aquatic or terrestrial annelid worm with suckers at both ends"

Leopard-: "[noun] a large, solitary cat that has a yellowish-brown or brown coat with black spots and usually hunts at night"

Lichen-: "[noun] a plantlike organism that typically forms a low crusty, leaflike, or branching growth on rocks, walls, and trees"

Light-: "[noun] the natural agent that stimulates sight and makes things visible; [adj] (of a color) pale"

Lightning-: "[noun] the occurrence of a natural electrical discharge of very short duration and high voltage between a cloud and the ground or within a cloud, accompanied by a bright flash and typically also thunder"

Lilac-: "[noun] a Eurasian shrub or small tree of the olive family, that has fragrant violet, pink, or white blossoms; [noun] a pale pinkish-violet color; [adjective] of a pale pinkish-violet color"

Lily-: "[noun] a bulbous plant with large trumpet-shaped, typically fragrant, flowers on a tall, slender stem"

Linden-: "[noun] a deciduous tree with heart-shaped leaves and fragrant yellowish blossoms, native to north temperate regions"

Linnet-: "[noun] a mainly brown and gray finch with a reddish breast and forehead"

Lion-: "[noun] a large tawny-colored cat that lives in prides, found in Africa and northwestern India. The male has a flowing shaggy mane and takes little part in hunting, which is done cooperatively by the females"

Little-: "[adj] small in size, amount, or degree"

Lizard-: "[noun] a reptile that typically has a long body and tail, four legs, movable eyelids, and a rough, scaly, or spiny skin"

Loach-: "[noun] a small elongated bottom-dwelling freshwater fish with several barbels near the mouth"

Loam-: "[noun] a fertile soil of clay and sand containing humus"

Lobelia-: "[noun] a chiefly tropical or subtropical plant of the bellflower family"

Lobster-: "[noun] a large marine crustacean with a cylindrical body, stalked eyes, and the first of its five pairs of limbs modified as pincers"

Locust-: "[noun] a large and mainly tropical grasshopper with strong powers of flight. It is usually solitary, but from time to time there is a population explosion, and it migrates in vast swarms that cause extensive damage to crops"

Log-: "[noun] a part of the trunk or a large branch of a tree that has fallen or been cut off"

Long-: "[adj] measuring a great distance from end to end"

Loon-: "[noun] any of several large birds (genus Gavia of the family Gaviidae) of Holarctic regions that feed on fish by diving and have their legs placed far back under the body for optimal locomotion underwater"

Lost-: "[adj] unable to find one's way, not knowing one's whereabouts"

Lotus-: "[noun] any of a number of large water lilies"

Loud-: "[adj] producing or capable of producing much noise, easily audible"

Luck-: "[noun] success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one's own actions; [noun] chance considered as a force that causes good or bad things to happen; [noun] something regarded as bringing about or portending good or bad things"

Lucky-: "[adj] having, bringing, or resulting from good luck"

Lupine-: "[noun] a plant of the pea family with deeply divided leaves and tall colorful tapering spikes of flowers"

Lynx-: "[noun] a wild cat with yellowish-brown fur (sometimes spotted), a short tail, and tufted ears, found chiefly in the northern latitudes of North America and Eurasia"

[never-not-ever]

It’s been a good morning so far and I’ve only been up for like an hour and a half. I was able to shower and make coffee before being whisked away by my doctor. My coffee was a 10/10, glad I didn’t mess up the water and ground coffee ratio. I used my pumpkin creamer, it’s cloudy out, we’re 3/4 done with July. It’s basically (almost) Fall. Which puts me in a good mood. 

I’m leaving around 1 for my pass and it’s actually 6 hours this time. I’ll probably stop at Mary Lou’s and get a caramel iced coffee and get some hash browns. I’m too anxious/really not hungry right now. I usually don’t eat til the afternoon anyways. I was going to stop at Dunks cause their new smores is obviously heart eyes, I keep talking about it, but then Mary will always have my heart first. Even though people say it’s “dessert coffee” and “iced coffee for teenagers”. Oh well lol. 

My DMH meeting is at 12 and my Nana said she’ll be here at 1 so I’m hoping it’s not longer than an hour. I’m a little nervous about it but more so just looking forward to being with my cats later. And driving. I’m a little nervous about the driving but also so fucking excited… I haven’t driven since October, 9 months. This is THE longest I’ve ever gone. I don’t give myself a lot of credit for things, like I’m not one to brag about stuff, I don’t think this is bragging but like I know I’m an excellent driver. I pride myself in my driving. Especially in the city even though I usually hate it and right now will probably give me so much anxiety. But I’m really excited and looking forward to driving today. I think this may also boost my confidence and give me more things to look forward to when leaving. Having some more autonomy and knowing I have that exit strategy to leave my apartment if it’s getting too much. 

I ended up not going to the 11am group which is the only group I’d be able to attend today but it was some peer recovery story and I’ve honestly heard them all. Skills groups I’m really supposed to attend so I’ll do that more tomorrow. 

I met with my doctor already but my social worker was in a family meeting so I’m going to meet with her later but my window of later is like getting shorter by the minute. It’s already 11:15. 

Thursday I’m doing a test run of one of the partial groups. So we’re now looking at discharge some time next week. The question is before or after my social workers last day on Wednesday. 

My anxiety is now through the roof and I can't take a PRN cause of driving.

[vasyandii]

Phayvanh "Nak" Sotsvahn 🐉

UPDATED INTRO!! (Old Ver.)

GENERAL INFORMATION

Status: ACTIVE

Year of Birth: 2000 (Aged 20)

Day of Birth: September 13

Place of Birth: Vientiane, Laos

Nationality: Laotian

Race: Lao

Languages Spoken: Lao, Thai, English, Russian

Occupation: Tactical Assault Operator, Close Quarters Combat Specialist (Chimera Member)

Affiliation(s):

-Golden Triangle Cartel (Formerly)

-Lao People's Armed Forces (Formerly; Dishonorably Discharged)

-Allegiance

-Chimera

Physical Appearance

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Black

Height: 5’2”/159 cm

Build: Lean Muscular

Scars: None

Tattoos/ Markings: Large tattoos on left upper and Center of back

Biography

Born in Vientiane, Laos. Living the first 15 years of her life off her uncle's fortune, partaking in the trafficking of illicit narcotics at a young age. The two were close due to them being family, not having many friends due to her uncle's line of work. Enlisted in the LPAF by her Uncle's wishes to "Carve a better path for herself". Was not liked by her peers for her cocky attitude, overly aggressive tactics, and habit of prioritizing her personal safety over the team.

After 3 years of service in the LPAF, excelling in Close Quarters Combat, dishonorably discharged due to repeated physical altercations among teammates. Spent the next 6 months back to working for Kapano Vang despite his reluctance, eventually fleeing to Urzikstan after an argument with Vang about difference in beliefs, multiple people injured; their relationship has been strained ever since. During her time her path crossed with Nikolai, in search of work she signed a long term contract with Chimera, with one year of service.

Shown to exhibit signs of social anxiety and difficulty forming close relationships around people her age. Inherited Kapano Vang's short temper in combat, though more relaxed outside of it. Developed a bond with Syd, seeing her as an older sister. Often paired up with Sebastian Krueger in order to keep them both in line.

Skills and Abilities

Fighting Style: Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu

Weapon(s): Whatever is heavy

Distinct Weapon: FN SCAR , Dual Push Blades

Shortcomings: Overly aggressive tactics, focus on personal safety, short temper

FAMILY

Familial Status: Adoptive Niece

Siblings: None

Mother: Adoptive sister of Kapano Vang (whereabouts unknown, records not found/withheld)

Uncle: Kapano “Naga” Vang; (Former warlord drug trafficker, formerly in Warsaw Pact)

Relationship with Family: Nak still idolizes her uncle to an extent, but the more that she's out in the world,the more she realizes that he isn't a good person. Nak’s mother wasn’t present in life. Her uncle took her in after mother wasn’t able to care for her. Naga trained her at a very young age; he thought it was best if she was strong in their lifestyle.

Pet: Cat person, never was allowed to have pets but she would throw scraps of food to strays.

PERSONALITY

Myers Briggs Type: ESTJ-T Nak is an extroverted introvert, she likes and enjoys talking to people, however it drains her energy quickly since she's not used to talking to people in such a casual manner. Things like talking business she’s more used to.

Adaptable: A quick thinker, Nak is able to carry out missions by finding creative solutions to make sure her operations are successful. Outside of the battlefield her adaptability allows her to have better communication with people, even with her social anxiety.

Pragmatic: Nak strives to make the most effective solutions so it’s easier on her in the future. Her decision making skills ensure that she’ll survive in the field and outside of it.

Responsible: Living on her own, Nak is responsible, she can’t relax unless all her work is done beforehand. As she starts forming close relationships with people, she realizes that she likes taking care of people.

Negative Traits

Stubborn: Starting out Nak isn’t a very good teamplayer. She doesn’t like others telling her what to do or how to do things so she’s stubborn in a way that she’s adamant about what she wants but adaptable with what methods are needed.

Judgemental: Her formative years with Naga didn’t allow her to trust people, because of the Golden Triangle Cartel she has a habit of being overly critical of others.

Paranoid Perfectionist: Nak is self-demanding, she doesn’t take failure lightly. This leads to her paranoia of not being properly prepared. She becomes aggressive out of frustration if her ability isn’t to her liking.

Favourites

Colour: Golden Yellow

Food: Fried eggs

Drink: Lemon iced Tea

Flower: Plumeria

Animal: Giant Anteaters

TRIVIA

Nak is a shortened version of “phayanak” the mythical water serpent in Laos, it’s also the Lao pronunciation of “Naga” which is her Uncle’s name on the field.

Her face paint draws reference to how snake teeth are shown in Phayanak statues. There are multiple snake motifs in her design. Is the design practical? No, she just likes standing out in that way.

Nak cuts her own bangs (long blunt bangs) she doesn’t trust anyone with cutting them.

Has a lot of upper body and lower body strength; she can lift things heavier than her and calisthenics skills (handstands, full planches, etc.)

Nak is significantly more patient to small children than adults because she can understand why they would do the things they do.

[healerelowen]

Hello hello! This is the third installment of my one shot miniseries, SteelClan Shenanigans! This one shot is focused on Spark’Moon! One of SteelClan’s medicine cats, AspenSpirit’s littermate and love interest of Holly’Bright. The intro post will be linked here and this post will be linked there as well. 

I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night! 

-Frosted leaves-

—

“For the last time Aspen’Spirit, you’re staying here until you’ve fully recovered from your sickness.” The light brown medicine cat let out a wheezing cough, nose crusted with discharge. “But surely you shouldn’t task yourself on fetching catmint on your own..! I can come with you.” Spark’Moon shook her head, “If I really need help, I can get Holly’Bright or Snap’Bark to help me, but you’re staying here and resting.” 

Aspen’Spirit mumbled to himself, but he nestled himself into his mossy nest to rest. Spark’Moon felt a surge of sympathy toward their sibling, so they crouched beside him and murmured softly. “Arch’Watcher will be here soon, once she’s back from her border patrol, she’ll stay here and keep an eye on you.” Any discomfort in AspenSpirit’s face seemed to ease at SparkMoon’s words, with the small medicine cat starting to back away to let their littermate rest peacefully.

It was late leaf-bare and sickness had spread through the camp like a wildfire. Although it was only a sweep of white cough, it did leave about half the clan ill and weakened. Stoat’Star had gotten sick, but Aspen’Spirit was able to help him recover. But he didn’t get away unscathed, as he had also fallen ill with white cough by the next morning, scorching with fever and nose streaming. 

They were running low on catmint so Spark’Moon took it upon themselves to search for the herbs. Peaking out of the den, Spark’Moon saw Arch’Watcher and her patrol heading down into the ravine. Some, but not all the cats seemed to be carrying a small bundle of herbs in their mouths, then the sweet scent of catmint made SparkMoon’s nostrils flare. The patrol stopped before Spark’Moon, dropping the catmint at their paws. 

“We found some catmint by the edges of the Twoleg place, though it likely will not be enough to last the colder moons.” Arch’Watcher reported, her tail twitched as her gaze flicked from the medicine den entrance then back to Spark’Moon. “That was very kind of you to do that, I was actually just about to see if I could find more by the abandoned Twoleg nest. However, you all should rest. We’ve got to build up our strength and exhausting ourselves won’t do us any good.” Spark’Moon added once she saw Arch’Watcher opening her mouth to speak. 

The tall she-cat only nodded and picked up her small bundle of catmint in her jaws, brushing past the small medicine cat and into the medicine den. The patrol followed, though the cats took turns one at a time putting their catmint bundles into the medicine storage. Arch’Watcher didn’t emerge back from the medicine den however, as she likely was resting with Aspen’Spirit now. Spark’Moon headed up the path and out of the ravine, the bitter yet tangy smell of monster shell pieces making Spark’Moon long for the sweeter scent of catmint. 

“Spark’Moon! Wait!” Called a voice from the path. Spark’Moon turned to see Holly’Bright running to them, slowing down as she climbed up the slope toward the medicine cat. “I figured you’d like some company on your one-cat herb patrol.” The young warrior panted, her tone still lighthearted and playful. There was a spark of comfort in SparkMoon’s chest. Spark’Moon knew that Holly’Bright had been worried sick over Stoat’Star ever since he had fallen ill, so viscerally anxious that he could’ve gotten green cough had Aspen’Spirit not been as quick. He was on his fifth life after all, and Holly’Bright only seemed to grow more and more nervous as he lost every life. 

Holly’Bright only rested her chin atop of SparkMoon’s head before the two took a step back to gaze at each other. “Well, let’s not waste any time then. ArchWatcher’s patrol only gathered so much catmint.” The silver warrior’s ear twitched curiously as the two padded over the dried grass, prickly beneath their paws. “Not enough to treat any cat?” She queried, and Spark’Moon felt a brush of unease like brambles tugging at her pelt. 

“Well, barely enough to treat at least one cat, but not enough for all the sick cats.” She noticed HollyBright’s concerned gaze, “But the thought is still appreciated nonetheless. It was all they could find on the border of Twoleg place.” Spark’Moon added hastily. Holly’Bright nodded slowly in understanding, “So I’m assuming we’re heading to the abandoned Twoleg nest?”

Nodding, Spark’Moon picked up the pace to a trot as the two made their way to the rickety Twoleg nest. Once they arrived, she wasted no time in beginning their search. “You go check by the yarrow patch, I’ll go look by the monster shell.” Spark’Moon instructed and the two went their separate ways in search of the sweet scented plant. Their gaze flicked around trying to find anything, but all they were met with was dead weeds and leaf mulch. “Spark’Moon! There’s some catmint over here!” Holly’Bright called, and sure enough, there was a plentiful amount of catmint. “Perfect! This is more than enough.” They both picked up large bundles of catmint in their jaws, before making their way back to SteelClan camp. 

***

“You really found that much by the Twoleg nest?” Arch’Watcher mewed in surprise, and Aspen’Spirit lazily turned his head to look. Spark’Moon nodded while Holly’Bright put her bundle in the herb storage. She set it down by her paws and separated it into two separate piles, one small and one large. They pushed the smaller one towards Arch’Watcher, “Make sure he eats these while I put the rest in the herb storage.” The dark brown cat nodded and prodded the small bundle of catmint towards Aspen’Spirit, giving him some little encouragements to eat the herbs.    

Holly’Bright had stepped back to let Spark’Moon put her own bundle into the storage, helping her tidy it. Holly’Bright smiled at the small medicine cat, touched their noses together, then limped out of the den. Spark’Moon stared after her, feeling all warm and fuzzy beneath her pelt. Turning to the catmint store again, they couldn’t help but notice a shape in the catmint. Two leaves from HollyBright’s pile were arranged to make a heart shape. SparkMoon's heart seemingly soared out of her chest, their smile only growing warmer. 

“Of course Holly’Bright would do that.”

[bkgrl]

Just came back home for the holidays and found my old Mha OC and... How could I leave such ideas behind; like I'm talking about a full ledger, a backstory, and defined relationships ( and hard-core angst, like HARD-CORE ANGST with capital letters )

I'm gonna try to summarize it; Noriaki Yagi ( note that her name is typically a male name; note it for later it's important [ between no she's not trans it's something with her family lineage and all *angst* ]

As her family name points she is All Might's niece, so his brother's daughter Taro Yagi; the first son of the Yagi family, a long lineage of heroes and Taro is the heir to the agency that is passed down from generation to generation.

So to clarify there are conditions for it to be passed down; the heir has to look identical to the previous owner of the agency and have the same quirk ], and Taro in a quest to have a son and finally please his dad ( it's his real goal; he doesn't care much for the agency, he just want his dad's attention and affirmation ) had many wife's; the first one was Sana she was from North America and gave birth to Kana Yagi; who was a girl and looked nothing like him; 3a curly brown hair, dark skin, and green cat eyes ( she also has vitiligo marks around her left eye and neck; marks that in her grandmother's eyes taint her beauty and make her look like a monster paired with the white strands in her hair ), when she was 13 and her mom "died"( she was killed by the grandparents so their son could remarry and they didn't want to deal with a messy divorce as she loved her daughter dearly and would rather die than leave her behind) so she ran away and joined her uncle toshinori; who was also kicked out of the family because he was quirkless ( he didn't tell them about OFA obv ) so she trained and later became a pro-hero alongside her best friends Miruko and Keigo.

Nori ( nickname for Noriaki ) was 5 when all this happened; she was still living with her mom at the time; she and Taro had a one-night stand but when the grandparents found out she was pregnant they forced him to marry her and cast aside Sana ( the first wife ); the women he loved. This led to a toxic marriage; where Taro didn't love and resented Tama ( Nori's mom ), who loved him to the point of obsession; so to forget the pain she fell into a drug addiction and drinking problem; and when it wasn't enough she'd lash out on Nori..

Why she did do so? Because Nori was perfect; she had her dad and mom's quirk and looked exactly like him but was a girl. So that led to her growing up with a mother who would scream things like "Why couldn't you be a boy ?! You ruined my life etc..." while hitting her. When the grandparents ( again 😒) found out they put Tama in a mental hospital ( the same one as Rei where they grew quite close: Trauma bounding does wonders I guess 🤷‍♀️ ) and took Nori under their "care" ( now to note they changed Nori's name; her real name was Reina Yagi but in their ( the grandpa's ) delusion they renamed her Noriaki ).

Their "care" was intensive quirk training and abusing the poor girl mentally and physically; now to delve into her quirks she has two.

1) her mom's which is Kinetic energy absorption and control; basically if you hit her she'll absorb the energy behind the hit and enhance her attacks ( or if she falls from a certain height she'll absorb the shock from the fall); the drawback is there's a limit to how much she can absorb at once; so if she is too charged she either has to release every energy in her body and so blackout/faint or she would implode/explode.

So you guessed; Osamu ( her grandfather) would regularly hit her and make her keep it all in and discharge it all in one hit or make her do endurance training so that accumulated energy would be her only source for it. Of course, for it to work she had to have no energy/barely any strength before training; so she was malnourished, sleep-deprived, and generally exhausted for most of her childhood.

Which would later cause eating disorders, insomnia, and body dysmorphia (her grandmother Yumie was fat-phobic and the typical housewife; and made sure to plant the seed of those teachings and internalized misogyny in Nori's head and shaped her in the perfect image of a barbie doll ( she has straight dirty blonde hair and royal blue eyes; small nose, full cherry-pink lips; the only thing not "perfect" in her is the shape of her body ( and Yumie made sure to hammer it in her head for fifteen years straight ); as she is pear-shaped with a small chest * her grandma has been suggesting breast implants since she turned 12*🤢

A.N: I'm genuinely freaking out, how twisted was my mind and we aren't even halfway through this!!

So here we have a poor girl who was abused by her mom for 3 years, then was "saved" only to be brought to a place worse than hell; in which she was again abused, insulted on her appearance every day, and had to train her whole life to be ready to look "perfect" in front of the cameras and journalists, turned into a puppet for the world's entertainment.

So to go back to her second quirk; energy manipulation; she draws the source either from her first quirk or from the earth around her. Then she shapes it into different things weapons, armor, shields... [ In the future ( when she becomes a pro-hero; she can combine both her quirks so she'd be able to absorb any hit on the energy shield ]

Whew I think that's all for the basis of her past, I'll have to look through my stuff and find the rest, but if I remember correctly she is close to Momo; met her at a meeting. And Shoto: because in the past they were engaged until her father stepped in and refused it... Or I think but I don't remember shipping her with Shoto but rather Bakugou?

Anyway just have to say that 2020 me was out for blood with this character 😭😂

[krazycomix]

PalTales: Quill's Pancakes

It was a late morning. The early dew and coldness of the previous night was evaporating, as the sun was nearing its peak. At the top of a small, rocky hill near a marsh, was a desolated church. its foundation was ruined but still stood. Nature had retaken it as vines, moss and grass grew in every nook and cranny of what was left of the once holy structure. Close by, no more than a stone's throw away, was a walled encampment. The protective walls, made from many, many cut up logs, circled around a large, rectangle building of carved stone. on its side, was an elevated stone platform that held various workbenches and machines that had ongoing projects. Things were in full swing as colourful beings were hard at work at their tasks. These strange, odd-looking creatures, called Pals, were darting back and forth between chores set before them.

A Penking, a penguin like Pal adored in a deep and light blue captain's outfit complete with an Comically overly-large hat, was busy spraying water at a wooden wheel, milling flour in style. A tall, bipedal pink-scaled lizard with lustful eyes and purple skin coat tails, Lovander, was helping build spheres with a pair of cat-like and fox-like Pals, dressed in a purple witch's and red mage's outfits respectively. Both Katress and Wixen were trying to ignore each other. Meanwhile, a greenish blue unibolt with yellow edges was discharging a build up of electricity into a generator to power the equipment. Several other Pals were busy chopping trees and mining stone, ferrying the materials to any available container to put them in or were grazing in a manmade ranch enclosure.

One Pal, in particular, stood out from the others…in fact, it towered over them.

A walking, hulking of what appears to be a dragon of sorts. Known as a Quivern. her body, from the top of her head, all the way to a long burley tail, was covered in fur as white as snow, and just as soft. Tufts of it sprouted on both large forearms, neck and thighs, with one lastly perched on the top of the head, nestled between two long, light blue feathers. Behind, a pair of angelic wings, each adorned with long, fluffy feathers that seemed to gradient between different shades of blue. Holding in her talons, was several heads. 

Of green lettuce. and a couple of red tomatoes.

Casually, the ginormous Pal lumbred towards an oversized bowl. Garden varieties like red berries, tomatoes and lettuce, filled the hollow cavity piled high above the rim line. Upon reaching the feed bowl, the giant Quivern simply put her load into the bowl, turned around and walked back to where she came. Among the conga line, other Pals were carrying their own handfuls. A Drepresso, a small koala like Pal with dark blue fur, purple tipped grey ears, complete with a perma-scowl, was half dragging-lifting a bundle of wheat over to the bowl.  Funny enough, it and the others were moving faster than their behemoth friend. The white giant wasn't all that motivated in working hard. She was a slacker. She knew it, but simply didn't care.

In the meanwhile, over on the platform area, the sounds of sizzling and clanging of utensils could be heard. On the side of the building's wall, an orange and silver stove was being manned by, well, a man. He was nearly six feet tall, wild dark brown hair and beard was a sign of weeks, if not months, that a razor was ever used. Cladded in a refined metal armour outfit, complete with arm and shoulder padding and a chestplate with a strange sigil that glowed. A clothed hung from armour plating on the hip. His boots were well used from wear and tear but still held up. 

The man's focus was what was in front of him. In his hand, a big iron skillet. With speed and precision, he was cooking up a storm and there didn't appear to be any stopping to his culinary onslaught.

Flavoured vapours whaff from the steam and smoke, riding the breeze around the grounds. One by one, each Pal slowed their work down, raising their snouts. Deep breaths took in the spreading aroma, a chorus of flavours danced within their nostrils as images of delicious meals flashed in their minds. The Quivern was no different, she too took in the fragrances. 

Her keen nose was able to tell apart the different scents. Mushroom stew, chikipi kababs, rushoar roast and….and….wait…what's THAT one??? That sweet aroma…coupled with…could it be?!

“COME AND GET IT!” Hollard the man, as he was putting the finishing touches to the last of his creations. Upon hearing this, everyone stopped what they were doing, dropped everything and made a beeline for the feeding bowl, knowing what time it was. As all the creatures were picking their places, some noticed a big, white missile was hurling towards them! Just nearly getting out of the way in time, the evading pals watched as the dragon plopped herself down, her tail wagging a mile a minute. Some gave a dirty look, as if saying “Hey, watch it idiot!”. The little Depresso, stationed right next to the big lug, looked up at her and simply shook his head. Out of disapproval or something else, no one was sure.

She didn't notice nor care. Her mind was too fixated on what she knew was coming.

Waltzing down the stone steps, the man was, with careful care, holding a platter stocked high with various dishes and meals. Following him, Wixen and Katress were following behind with their own overfilled platters as well. Both trying their hardest not to drool. The hungry Pals watched in anticipation as the platters of feast neared closer. 

As soon as the platters were set on the ground, it became a buffet rush! Big claws, little paws and sly tendrils snagged the first dish they touched. The chef had to jump back to avoid being trampled. 

“Hey HEY!” He shouted “ There's plenty for everyone here! No need to rush!...yeesh…“ Sighing as all the creatures before him settled back down to their places after getting their fill. Still, he smiled at his handy work. Each platter was separated into different spreads: meat, greens and inbetween. The man had learned the dietary habits of his Pals and made sure there was plenty to choose from. This time, he felt trying out some fanicer recipes as a treat for his companions. He loves to spoil them from time to time.

However, not all were happily munching away. The fluffy dragon didn't move from her spot. From her high vantage point, she had a bird's eye view of the food. Her large, blue eyes formed furrowed brows. There certainly was much to choose from…but…where were the-

“Looking for these?~” a question sing-songed.

Pulled from her scanning, she turned her head towards where the voice came from. Looking down, the man stood before her. He smiled as he holded a fourth platter. The Pal's eyes grew larger than the plate itself.

On it, stood a stack of pancakes.

But these pancakes weren't normal, per say. They were big. REAL BIG. Each cake was at least a good two or more inches thick, their girth rounded nearly the whole plate. There were twelve stacked tall like a castle's spire. If that spire had a massive helping of dark-golden syrup oozing from the top, covering the tower like a ooie-gooie blanket.

The look on the giant Pal's face was priceless. Her eyes sparkled as she stared down at her awaited prize. Her tail wagged and swayed fast enough that it started feeling like a strong wind roared in. Carefully, the man moved closer, his friend’s gaze never broke. Walking with a plate of huge pancakes was made difficult when said pancakes block your vision. Nevertheless, the tamer was able to bring the stack to his fluffy friend, setting the plate down before her. 

“Alright Quill, dig in” The man said, after taking two steps back. Finally, Quill broke her stare and looked at her master, giving an excited nod, as her way of saying thank you. Seeing that all of his companions were busy enjoying their lunch, the man decided to go check on production progress and see if there was a need for more materials. And grab a bite himself.

“Finally…FINALLY, COME TO MOMMA!” The dragon giddily thought to herself. With great eagerness, she reaches for the yummy yum yums. Her claw wrapped around the top most patty, the grip causing the syrup to gush between each talon, also covering the fur on her mits. Bringing it closer to her mouth, salivation was in overdrive until her snout was within nom nom range. Taking a bite, her tongue was met with the most delectable taste. The first thing was the goopy syrup. Liquid sugar mixed with an unmistakable taste of honey splashed on the large tongue. Following behind, light and warm fluffy vanilla insides exploded from the firm form of the cake. 

While the syrup and pancake were delicious by themselves, together though: they created something magical.

As Quill began to chew, the fluff of the pancake absorbed the sweet syrup, the combo enhancing the deliciousness even further. The goop that didn't land in the Pal's mouth was painted around it. 

She. Was. In. BLISS.

The other set of claws reached for another from the plate as the first was being finished up. The dragon's tongue lapped the lips, feeling more of the sugary goodness. Instead of cleaning her mouth though, Quill opened it up to take a bite out of the next morsel. As soon as she bit down, her eyes shot open. Something new was dancing on her tongue! After being momentarily caught off guard, she slowly chewed and investigated. It was both sweet and tangy. It didn't take long to figure out what this invasive flavour was: RED BERRIES!

A simple red-berried fruit, given its namesake, that grew all over the Palagos Islands. Since they were in abundance, you could go for days just eating them until you got sick of them. Great for snacks and especially when you cook them or add them in with other meals. Sauces, fillings, sides, you name it. Plus, they're easy to homegrown also, which makes sense, as almost every settlement have their own berry gardens in them.

This was utterly…DELIGHTFUL! Quill had pancakes with syrup made from the little fruits before but never thought of adding them IN the pancakes. Her sense of taste could tell they were cooked beforehand, making them even tastier. Somehow, the sweetness of the other flavours didn't overpower the berries or vice versa. They melded together into a melodic fusion, but still taste each one separately. Refreshing and fruity would be the best way to describe it. From the part that was chomped, little red spots could be seen buried within.

Right after polishing off the last bite, the hungry Pal's nose sensed something that caught her attention. It was…savoury…and…it was coming from the pancakes themselves. Intrigued, Quill grabbed and brought the next patty to her snout. A couple of sniffs confirmed it. However, it carried a…familiar, meaty smell also. Determined to solve this lil mystery, She did the only reasonable thing to do: 

NOM!

Nothing…could have prepared her for- 

BACON!!!

To be more accurate, belly meat from a Rushoar. A large tusked pig Pal that will pick a fight with anyone and anything within its sights. A pack of them went on a rampage several days ago causing the Tamer and his pals to put a stop to them, resulting in a stockpile of pig meat currently cooling in the fridge. 

Quill was curious when her master would use the meat, but she never expected something like this! Even though her mind and body were stunned, her jaws still moved. Slowly, she took in everything.

Crunchy, bite-sized bits of bacon hide amongst the fluffy expanse of the pancake. The savoury profile of meat, with a hint of salt, tangled with the sweet aroma. This…this combo was a big display of heavy contrast. Hard and soft, sweet and savoury, light and crisp ,salt and sugar…This was a meeting of two very distinct flavours that shouldn’t have worked. But it did.

Before she knew it, she felt her throat GULP, sending the morsel to its new home. Returning from her thoughts, the big Pal excitedly snatched up one, no, TWO cakes. She's wanted to experience more! 

After cake after cake, she realised that the stack repeated with those three flavours: regular, red berry and bacon. This was a new experience for her and, by the wilds, she was enjoying every bit of it!

As the Quivern munched away, her snowy white fur was an unfortunate casualty. More sugary goop was being smeared more and more on her snout. Each addition caused more to dribble down her chin and sides. Her paws and talons were practically covered from the sharp tips down to the wrists. It looked as if she was wearing a pair of gooey mitts. Droplets rained down onto the Pal's abdomen like sparkling fragments, dotting more of the fur. Once the final piece of the stack was packed away, the now happily filled dragon let out a sigh of content. Suddenly, she felt something rush up her throat as a loud belch escaped her mouth. Now fully content, Quill took in the moment of the fullness. Noticing the syrup still splattered on her snout, her dragon tongue began to lick and lap.

As the Pal groomed and cleaned herself, The tamer, having finished his own plate, couldn't help but chuckle. Ever since he introduced the Quivern to pancakes, he noticed how excited she gets whenever he whips them up. Although, he only does so every once in a while, mainly because the big lug always makes a mess of herself like a toddler in a highchair. Often having to get one of the water type Pals to spray her down. Still though, he always gets a sense of satisfaction seeing the Quivern enjoy her treats with gusto. And from the look of things, the clean up detail was being handled without needing a bath. Until next time.

All the other Pals cheered in their own ways now getting back up and returning to their duties. Fetching the now empty platter plates, the Tamer made his way over to Quill, who was finishing lapping up the last bit of gooey goodness from her claws. “Enjoy your treat girl?” He asked. Wanting to try something different, the man remembered back in the outside world of the blueberry and bacon filled pancakes he used to eat at his favourite restaurant. Since the ingredients are more or less the same in this new world, he thought he would give it a shot. The now clean dragon gave a happy smile and cheerful yip as her answer, rubbing her belly in satisfaction.

Nodding in a job well done, the man then told his Pal he needed help setting up some refined chests, as he picked up the sticky plate and was making his way over to get them cleaned. Quill got up and made her way over to an open tool box, reaching in and grabbing her own tools to help with building. 

All the while thinking: “I wonder what other yummy things the master will put into the pancakes for next time? I can't wait!”

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

Been...quite some time since i uploaded. Life happened, but i have been inspired recently to do more writing. Since Palworld came out, i drew up some Fanart, which also inspired this short story!

I'm planning on doing more short fan stories based on Palworld, more on the slice of life lazy style of tone.

[the-starry-seas]

I wanna know more about your chaotic neutral human?!

Oh man where do I begin 😂

I started writing him in 2015, and that kinda blows my mind when I think about it. I've played him as a faerie prince, Utahraptor shifter, dragon shifter, werewolf, alien, Titan pilot, X-Men style mutant, and normal human. Well, as normal as he can get.

His name is Rowan Castañeda. He's Catalan (when he's from Earth, anyway). The 'default' version of him is the one where he's a raptor shifter, because that's where it started all those years ago. That version also goes by the name Red, because his dinosaur form has red feathers and reptilian eyes. His human form has red eyes and sharp canines, which are hidden by a magical charm that gives him brown eyes and normal teeth.

The best way to sum up Rowan is by saying he's a little crazy and a lot of fun. Very loud and outgoing, loves people. Has more than enough intellect and common sense to clearly and easily grasp something is a Bad Idea, and enough chaotic dumbass energy to decide he's gotta just go ahead with it anyway. Way too fond of bad puns, incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he can comment on something he shouldn't. Loyal to the death, curious about everything, isn't sure how he hasn't been poisoned by food from sketchy street vendors, and interrupts conversations to point out cats. His main interests include dinosaurs, space, Star Trek, historical novels, and monster movies (the cheesier the better). Don't touch his hat or invade his personal space unless you're looking to get your ass kicked, which will almost certainly involve biting. Fluent in Latin and will bitch people out in it (or will ramble about how unbelievably smoking his wife is, Gomez Addams style).

His playby is Óscar Jaenada, originally from The Losers. This BTS gif from (it was an interview I think?) immediately cemented the idea of a playby for him bc it was so exactly what I had in mind. Cocky little fucker who would suckerpunch God to protect his family, or even if it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

He's bisexual and nonbinary, and grew up in Ripley, California with an older sister (Laura) and twin brother (Raul). His brother disappeared when they were sixteen, and a year later, Rowan was kicked out by his parents for being queer. He moved to Los Angeles to live with his uncle, a Marine Corps veteran, and Rowan followed in his footsteps by enlisting at eighteen. He became a highly skilled sniper but turned down promotions because he liked the job he had.

At twenty-one he impulsively married a girl named Amber, who he'd known for three hours. The next year, they had a daughter named Elena. She was born partially deaf and Rowan became fluent in ASL to communicate with her.

At twenty-nine, he was injured in the line of duty and got a medical discharge. His sister divorced a few months ago, and she and her daughter Alejandra moved to a new house with Rowan's family, since her ex was being a dipshit and Rowan wanted her to be protected.

He started college courses to become a paleontologist. (Yes, the dinosaur shifter has a dinosaur-related job. I think I'm funny.) He was active in fieldwork for another 5-10 years, depending on the timeline, before taking a job as a curator at a dinosaur museum so he could be home more and have more regular hours.

In my favourite version of his character, his new curator job was at a museum in Gotham, cause that town is clearly the first choice of any normal and well-adjusted individual. He was also an active vigilante, bc nobody believed the criminals saying a dinosaur attacked them, and he had zero concern of being connected to his illegal activities.

Bonus Rowan art from when he's older in his forties: