#ill belly surf if needs be

[jahayla-parker]

Mistaken Emotions : Conrad Fisher x Reader

Description: 4.5 k wc, y/n and Conrad have been best friends for years, so she’s knows there has to be more to his sudden change in behavior. Friends to lovers, angst to fluff, hurt comfort.

Warnings: mentions of/references to cancer & illness, panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of smoking and weed/pot/marajuana, anger/sadness/other emotions, etc.

Y/n sighed to herself as she walked down the beach. Her shoulders lifted briefly during the inhalation, only to dramatically plummet as the deep sigh left her lips. Belly was right, Conrad was smoking. Y/n had hoped their mutual friend was wrong. But, the puff of smoke being expelled from Conrad’s mouth -visible despite the dark sky that greeted them at the beach tonight-, told y/n her hope had been futile.

Conrad didn’t turn his head as he heard y/n approaching. Instead, he wiggled his toes into the cold sand under his flip-flops as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. Conrad knew by the sound of her feet shuffling in the sand, that y/n was hesitant to join him. He felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d caused that unfamiliar tension between them. But, the guilt lessened in his body as he took another toke.

Y/n silently lowered herself onto the sand beside Conrad. She looked straight ahead, but still noticed the way he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Y/n sat wordlessly for a few minutes as she collected her thoughts. Where to even begin?

Conrad nearly laughed when y/n finally spoke. He didn’t know how he expected her to greet him, but he hadn’t anticipated her whispered, “this isn’t you”. Conrad pulled the blunt from his lips, pinching it between his fingers as he held it before him as if inspecting it. “Maybe you don’t know me anymore,” he muttered curtly.

“Yes I do,” y/n argued, glancing over at Conrad with a slight glare. Was he actually trying to imply she didn’t know him? This was Conrad; even when he was moody, she knew his heart. When Conrad merely raised an eyebrow at her, she sighed. “Stoic wall or not,” y/n commented scoldingly, “I know you”.

“You’re still the boy who went to three stores to replace my Monsters Inc. bandaids when Belly had put mine all over her babydoll,” y/n said, smiling to herself. “The one who taught me how to surf even though I sucked at it and Jeremiah said I was a lost cause,” she murmured as she stared out at the ocean. “You’re still that boy who begged his mom to let him drive to the store to get me cold medicine when I was sick that one summer, even though you only had your learner’s permit”.

Conrad nearly smiled as he listened to y/n recount some of the memories they had together. But, the mention of his mom sent the painful stab of reality back to the forefront his mind. “Well, people change,” Conrad muttered before bringing the blunt back to his mouth.

“Maybe,” y/n nodded in contemplation. She hummed, zipping up her lightweight jacket. “But, souls don’t,” y/n argued.

Conrad coughed on the marijuana smoke from his latest toke as he laughed. “That’s so cheesy,” he teased, a sly smile on his lips. Conrad shook his head in amused disbelief, “of course you’d say that”.

Y/n smirked as she looked over at her best friend. “Like I said, souls don’t change,” she repeated smugly. She reached over and wordlessly stole the blunt from him and put it out with a smirk. When Conrad laughed some more, she smiled contentedly as she leaned back, now propped up by her elbows.

Conrad smiled appreciatively at y/n. As annoying as most people would find her behavior, it was comforting. She was still y/n. He had to fight to keep himself from staring at her lips as they somehow shone even though the sky was dusk. He needed to get his mind off the all too familiar feeling that was creeping up on him again as he felt pulled to confess his feelings towards the girl beside him. So, Conrad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a new blunt and his lighter. He quickly turned his back to y/n so she couldn’t put it out again as he ignited the end. Once it was lit, Conrad turned around and stared back out at the crashing waves.

Y/n scanned Conrad closely. She hated that he was clearly going through something that made him feel like he had to -or should- change his mind on matters like this. Conrad had been so against smoking -especially pot- before now. She didn’t know what had changed; after all, it wasn’t like he was offering much in the way of an explanation.

“Let me have a toke,” y/n stated, reaching for Conrad’s second blunt. She huffed in annoyance when Conrad pushed her hand away from his face.

“What?!” Conrad replied with a bewildered stare. “Y-you know the words?!” he groaned, analyzing y/n as if he’d never seen her before. “How?“ Conrad questioned, his tone coming off offended.

Y/n laughed loudly, her cheeks hurting from the wide grin on her face. “We’re not 7 anymore, Con,” she reminded lightly.

Conrad hummed loudly. He gave y/n a small sad nod. “I wish we were,” he confessed quietly. Conrad could feel y/N’s intense gaze on him, but he didn’t elaborate.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/n wondered.

Conrad shrugged faintly. “Just easier back then,” he mumbled. “But, that’s not where we are now”.

Y/n hummed. “I guess not,” she agreed vaguely on the premise. “Now, let me have one,” y/n repeated her request. She once again leaned over and reached for the blunt in Conrad’s hand.

“No,” Conrad argued, chuckling as he moved away from y/n’s reach.

Y/n frowned and furrowed her brows. She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her body towards Conrad. “Why not?” Y/n retorted.

“You don’t smoke,” Conrad said simply. He smugly held the blunt away from y/n.

Y/n huffed loudly as she raised a brow. “Neither did you,” she countered.

“No,” Conrad said shaking his head, “still not happening”. He relit the end

“Why?” Y/n repeated.

“You’re against smoking,” Conrad stated simply.

“So were you,” y/n retorted with a smug tone.

Conrad huffs loudly in frustration. But he stopped lighting up nonetheless. “Somethings change,” he shrugged.

“So then let me see,” y/n protested. She nodded at the blunt in Conrad’s hand expectantly.

“No,” Conrad practically whined.

“Conrad,” y/n groaned as she once again reached for the joint.

Conrad pulled his hand away from y/n’s reach and shook his head. “No”. “It’s not going to happen,” he told her.

“Then what’s the real reason?” Y/n pressed knowingly.

“I’m not letting you put that into your body,” Conrad admitted. He stared directly at y/n in hopes of her understanding he wasn’t playing around; she wasn’t going to take a hit.

“But it’s okay going into yours?” Y/n questioned rhetorically.

Conrad shrugged. “Who cares?” He asked dismissively.

“I do, Con,” y/n stated matter of factly.

Conrad’s lips formed a small smirk. “Really?”

“Yeah,” y/n responded with a soft nod.

Conrad gave y/n an appreciative smile and put the joint away. “Okay”. He sighed as he intentioned shifted his gaze away from the girl who could still get him to do just about anything. “Though it’s not like it matters what one does or doesn’t put in to their body,” he mumbled as he stared at the ocean.

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked. She pushed herself off her elbows so she could see Conrad better.

“You can do it all right,” Conrad began, shaking his head. “And yet, life will still fuck you,” he gloomily said as he gazed into the distance.

“Con,” y/n whispered quietly as she watched him closely. “What’re you talking about?” She questioned hesitantly. Yet, despite her soft approach, Conrad nevertheless mumbled a dejected “nothing” as he once again shut down. Y/n hummed softly and grabbed his hand as she went to lay down. As her head hit the sand, she could feel his eyes on her as he watched her closely in silence. “If, and when, you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here,” she promised.

Conrad curled his lips upwards faintly. He wordlessly shifted and moved to lie down beside y/n. Only once he was completely flat on his back, facing the dark sky did he speak. “Not going to force me to tell you? Or be mad that I don’t?”

“No,” y/n replied tenderly. She gently squeezed Conrad’s hand as she stared at the stars that had begun to shine above them. “That’s not always the best way to handle things,” she said sympathetically. She knew Jeremiah and Belly had likely given him a rough time lately given his behavior. Y/n didn’t want to add to that. She just needed him to know she was here for him.

Conrad turned onto his side so he could face y/n. He leaned forward and blinked slowly as his eyes scanned her. After finding a loose hair floating beside her cheek farthest from him, he cautiously reached over to tuck it behind her distant ear.

Y/n had been watching Conrad calmly despite the way her heart was racing at how close he was. Yet, when his breath hit her nose, she couldn’t help but make a slightly disgusted face. He didn’t smell like himself. “You smell like smoke,” she murmured as her head sunk into the sand a little more to get away from the scent.

Conrad smirked and laughed loudly. “I thought you were wanting to smoke,” he teased.

Y/n bashfully broke eye contact and let go of Conrad’s hand. She playfully pushed him into the sand as she looked away with a quiet laugh.

Conrad grinned and shook his head. “Hey,” he whispered, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her closer. With his head hovering over hers, he smiled warmly. “Maybe you’re right, maybe some souls don’t change,” he said blissfully.

Y/n smirked shyly. “Told you,” she replied in a whisper.

Conrad laughed and leaned forward. He closed his eyes and kissed y/n’s forehead lips, his lingering on her skin. “I’m glad yours didn’t,” he confessed as he pulled away and laid back down on the sand beside her.

Y/n bit her lip affectionately as she tried to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. “Yours didn’t either, Con,” she remarked, her tone sure. “You’re still there, and I’ll be here every step of the way as you get that back,” y/n promised as she squeezed his hand.

“He’s such an ass,” Jeremiah hissed as he glared at the patio door that his older brother had just stormed out of.

Y/n shot the younger Fisher a look. “Stop,” she pleaded with a sigh. She hated hearing everyone talking about Conrad behind his back. Especially like this.

“It’s true!” Jeremiah defended loudly as he threw his hands up in the air. “How do you put up with that?” He groaned as he shook his head at y/n in disbelief.

“Just,” y/n sighed again. “Leave him be, please”.

Jeremiah scoffed and raised his eyebrows dramatically. “Why?” He questioned rhetorically. “He doesn’t care about anyone else,” he seethed.

Y/n squinted pointedly at Jeremiah. “Yes he does,” she said in defense of Conrad.

“No he doesn’t,” Jeremiah argued. “I mean come on, he isn’t doing anything this summer,” he began, putting one finger up as though he was making a list.

“He’s angry all the time,” Steven agreed with a frown as he set his beer on the counter.

“You’re reading it all wrong,” y/n protested. She looked out the patio window to see if she could still see Conrad or not. “He’s not angry,” she murmured. He’s hurt. And when Conrad gets hurt, he doesn’t know how to act.

“Y/n,” Belly sighed. She walked over to her friend and set her hand on y/n’s arm sympathetically. She knew what it was like to have a crush on Conrad, except fortunately she’d gotten over it by now. Whereas Belly could tell y/n hadn’t and therefore wasn’t processing what just happened properly. “He just snapped at you for no reason,” she reminded y/n gently.

Y/n shook her head. “He’s not angry,” she mumbled again as she moved away from the group in order to go after Conrad. She knew her friends were just trying to look out for her. But, she knew Conrad. Better than anyone. And she knew that his outburst moments ago was an overreaction to a potentially dangerous situation she’d put herself in. He’d just been trying to look out for her, but his overwhelming emotions made it come out wrong. She didn’t know what those overwhelming emotions were exactly nor what was creating them; but she knew him well enough to know it wasn’t just anger as their friends claimed.

Conrad groaned to himself as he heard footsteps nearing him. He had expected that after his outburst he would be left alone. He’d overreacted when y/n had acted a bit unsafely. But, he didn’t stop there. He went so far as to lash out at her afterwards. He’d seen the worry in her eyes and hoped his subsequent lashing out at her would keep her from following after him. He didn’t want y/n to see him like this. Besides, he didn’t deserve for her to come after him after the way he’d acted.

“Conrad,” y/n greeted quietly as she walked towards him.

“Go away,” Conrad grumbled with his back still to y/n.

“No,” y/n replied defiantly as she continued her approach.

Conrad shook his head. “Y/n knock it off, I’m not in the mood. I want to be alone”.

“That’s a lie,” y/n pointed out as she came within a few feet of Conrad.

Conrad quickly spun around in frustration. “God damnit Y/n!” He shouted.

Y/n’s heart shattered and she nearly gasped as she saw the tears Conrad was trying to hold back. She shook her head and moved closer. She saw the hesitant reaction he had and could see he wanted to keep his guard up. “It’s okay,” she promised quietly. “You don’t need to say anything.” Slowly, y/n made her way across the few feet between them and over to him. She wordlessly wrapped arms around Conrad and held him. It took a few patient moments, but Conrad eventually began to fall apart in her arms. Y/n held him to her tightly as she whispered soft words of support and encouragement as he practically clung onto her.

After Conrad had calmed and a few moments of comfortable silence had passed, he glanced at y/n. “Why didn’t you just ignore me like everyone else?” He wondered. “I’m being an ass,” he admitted.

“You’re hurting, Conrad,” y/n corrected. She noticed the way he froze and as much as she wanted to know what he was thinking, she just smiled sympathetically. “I don’t know why,” she acknowledged. “I’d like to, but I don’t have to know the why in order for me to see what’s really happening”.

“I can’t..-“ Conrad muttered hesitantly. He could see how badly y/n wanted to be there for him; for him to open up so she could. But, he couldn’t. He had to keep this to himself. Even if it was tearing him apart.

“That’s fine,” y/n nodded. She wrapped her arm back around Conrad, it having slipped slightly when he pulled back to look at her. She rubbed his arm as she felt him rest up against her.

Susannah was washing up some dishes from lunch when she overheard Conrad’s name. She sighed to herself as she thought about how strangely her eldest son had been acting lately. She tried to talk to Laurel about it earlier, in hopes that maybe she either had an idea as to why he was behaving this way or that she could get through to him. Conrad has always been close with Laurel, so she felt it was worth a shot.

However, as Susannah eavesdropped on the conversation between y/n and Laurel, she realized her oversight. She hadn’t wanted to get any of the kids involved, especially not when they already seemed equally frustrated with Conrad’s behavior. But, she hadn’t noticed how compassionately y/n had been handling the whole thing. In fact, as she listened to y/n defend Conrad to Laurel just now, Susannah wished she had as much compassion as the girl somehow still had. Susannah knew Conrad had been pushing away his friends, including y/n a lot lately and was being far more difficult with them than he was to Susannah herself. Yet, Susannah had long grown frustrated with her son’s behavior nevertheless. She loved him, so much, but she despised his recent behavior; even if most of it was directed away from her. So she couldn’t help but cherish the way y/n still showed such compassion for Conrad despite being one of the people he was trying so hard to push away.

“I really think you should just let him be,” Laurel commented in a sympathetic tone. “He clearly wants to be left alone,” she pointed out.

“No he doesn’t,” y/n sighed as she sat down on one of the lounge chairs. “He’s just going through something is all,” she shrugged. She didn’t know what more to say. After all, she didn’t want to expose any secret of Conrad’s, not that she even knew what was going on currently; but, still.

Laurel shook her head sadly. “I can see that,” she remarked, “we all can”. She tsked loudly as she continued wiping down the patio side table. “Problem is, he’s too confident and thinks too highly of himself right now”.

Y/n scoffed and stood up. “No he doesn’t,” she argued. How could they all be so dense? Couldn’t they see it was clearly the opposite? Couldn’t they see that Conrad was pushing people away because he was trying to hide the fact that he was uncertain about whatever was troubling him? Y/n still might not know what it was exactly that troubled him, but she knew his actions weren’t from being overly confident.

“Look, Laurel,” y/n said evenly as she tried to maintain her frustration. “I know everyone is upset with him lately,” she sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “But, no one knows what’s truly going on. And talking about him behind his back isn’t going to help anything”. She could tell Laurel was about to reply so she quickly shook her head. “Especially not when you guys are all looking at his actions instead of trying to understand them; to understand him!” She huffed loudly as she began to slowly pace in front of the lounge chair she had once been sitting on. “Maybe you all should stop looking at the behavior and see what triggered it, what caused him to act like that”. Y/n felt sometimes both Conrad’s actions and the triggers showed his underlying emotions, but clearly they weren’t seeing it that way, so she figured changing their focus might help. With that, she shook her head and walked down the patio to the beach to clear her mind.

Susannah finished drying the dishes and made her way to her eldest son’s bedroom. She knocked and waited for permission to open the door. When it finally came, she creaked his bedroom door open and slowly made her way inside. She could tell he hadn’t done much other than be on his phone since lunch. Once again, something that wasn’t like him. Especially not during the summer, and not when y/n was around and free.

“You know,” Susannah whispered as she sat on the edge of Conrad’s mattress. She watched with a small smile as he sat up in response. “I know how you feel about her,” she told him vaguely, knowing he didn’t need her to say the girl’s name to know who she was talking about.

“Mom,” Conrad groaned with a roll of his eyes.

“Do not roll your eyes at me,” Susannah scolded lightly, resulting in Conrad nodding and giving her an apologetic look. “Anyways, Connie,” she continued, “I also know you’re pushing her away for some reason”.

Before Conrad could argue, Susannah held up her hand. “Don’t try to act as if you’re not,” she warned, “you’re pushing everyone away”. “I may not know why you’re doing it,” she sighed, grabbing her sons hand from where it was resting on the bed. “But, you’re only going to cause both of you so much more pain. She somehow seems to understand you better than anyone,” Susannah commented with a tender smile, “maybe even better than you know yourself. She’s stubborn when she cares. So, you can keep causing trouble for yourself and for her, or you can try to let her in again”.

Conrad just stared at his mom for a moment. He knew she was right. But he couldn’t. If his mom truly knew what he was dealing with, she wouldn’t be telling him it was okay to talk to someone else about it. Right? After all, she didn’t want anyone to know about it. That much he knew. But, that was already ruined as he himself knew. Perhaps one more person wouldn’t hurt. Right? Conrad shook his head. “I’m fine, mom,” he said, adding a sigh when she gave him a sad look, “really”.

“Conrad, just breathe,” y/n whispered as she held his upper bicep tenderly. “Just breathe,” she repeated. She’d followed him out from a party where he’d gotten worked up over something minor once again. And now they were on the beach as she tried to help Conrad through what appeared to be a panic attack. “I’m here, just copy my breath,” she advised calmly.

It had taken y/n several tense moments to calm Conrad down. But now they were seated on the cold sand, shoulders touching, as they stared out at the sea. Well, while Conrad stared out at the sea. Meanwhile, y/n was watching his profile closely.

“How often do you get them?” Y/n questioned softly as she took hold of Conrad’s closest hand.

“W-what?” Conrad asked, his gaze snapping towards y/n.

Y/n gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand supportively. “The panic attacks,” she said, pausing when she saw the understanding of his experiences dawn on him. “That’s what they are, Con,” she commented. “I know because I get them too,” she added bashfully.

Conrad’s eyes squinted and he abruptly shifted to see y/n better. “What? Since when? Why didn’t y-“ he began to ask, a thousand worried questions entering his mind.

“Con, breathe,” y/n directly calmly. “I don’t usually get them in the summer,” she admitted. “As you can see, it has to do with stress and anxiety, I tend to have less of that in the summers,” she paused as a timid smile formed on her lips, “or, at least the summers I get to spend here, with you”.

Conrad felt his cheeks heat up as he bit back a smile. Only, his giddiness dissipated quickly. “And I’m ruining that with -“ he began guiltily.

“No,” y/n stated firmly as she turned to face Conrad. She shook her head. “Conrad, you’re not ruining anything,” she promised. “I don’t mind following your moody ass out of parties all summer,” she teased.

Conrad chuckled and shook his head. “I… I want to.. to tell-“ he paused and sighed as he broke eye contact with y/n. He couldn’t tell her. No matter how much it would help to get it off his chest. He didn’t want to make her have to deal with the knowledge of his mother’s condition the way he had been. Even if it meant he would still have to face this alone. “It’s a lot,” he commented vaguely as he looked back out at the waves.

Y/n hummed and leaned her head against Conrad’s shoulder. “I know,” she commented kindly. “You don’t have to tell me,” she added, nuzzling her head deeper against his shoulder. “But because I know you, because souls don’t change,” y/n said, echoing her words from an earlier conversation, “I know you feel you have to face this, whatever this is, alone”. She sighed as she lifted her head off Conrad’s shoulder in order to look him in the eyes. “But you’ve never let me face anything alone,” she smiled, “so I’d really like to help you carry the weight of whatever you’re going through, if you’ll let me”.

Conrad gave y/n a sad but appreciative smile. He reached out and shakingly tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I want to,” he admitted, “selfishly, I want to”.

Y/n shook her head. “It isn’t selfish,” she corrected, staring back at Conrad. “You’d be letting me do this,” she argued softly.

Conrad laughed lightly. “Some souls never change,” he murmured happily as he gazed into y/n’s patient eyes. He sighed and looked away. “I … I’m not supposed to even know, but I do”.

“I see,” y/n replied slowly. “Well, you don’t have to be alone in that knowledge. And no one else has to know that either of us know,” she promised with a gentle smile.

It took time for Conrad to fully open up about what it was he had been dealing with. But, he was immensely grateful he’d pushed past his reservations to do so. Not only had he and y/n become even closer friends, he could now also not just rely on her support but also benefit from not being alone in his pain. He now had someone who was trying to reassure him that the taunting voices in his head were wrong. Someone who tried to silence the self blaming thoughts that told him it was his fault; that he should’ve seen the signs. It was something he desperately needed, especially on nights like tonight.

Conrad had finally gotten ahold of his breathing; with y/N’s help once again. But, he couldn’t ignore the thoughts that were still bouncing around in his mind. Thoughts that told him he could’ve pretended this. Thoughts that told him off for the way he’d treated everyone as a result of harboring this secret on his own for so long.

Y/n glanced over at Conrad knowingly and mentally sighed in sympathy. She shifted her butt in the sand to see him straight on and smiled when his eyes shifted from the water to meet hers. “Hey,” she commented.

Conrad chuckled and smiled back. “Hey,” he echoed, grabbing y/N’s hand as it rested between them on the sand.

“They’re wrong, ya know,” y/n promised warmly, her eyes focused in on Conrad’s. “The thoughts,” she explained gently.

Conrad felt his cheeks flush as the corner of his lips curled up even more. Of course she’d seen through him and his silence. He shook his head and rugged her hand towards him. He watched silently as y/n shifted in order to comply with his wishes. Once she was curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder again, he sighed. Conrad crooked his head and placed a gentle kiss to the side of y/N’s head. One day he’d offer her more, when he was in the right mental state to do so without risking hurting her along the way should he push people away again. For now, he simply smiled lightly to himself as he whispered, “thank you for understanding me”.

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[trademarkhubris]

dark thoughts about how good for the economy floods and other small disasters like the one i endured, or bigger ones i really dont want to think abt rn. my insurance is actually one of the less annoying out there. they'll ask for a quote from a specialist and send the money and then you can do wtf you want. for the most part.

but thats for... the pool, the walls... immovable property... anything thats furniture is reimbursed based on the purchasing price, minus 10% per year since purchase. that means if an object is ten years old, you get zilch.

my big freezer has a good 20 years behind it, it got toasted in the flood. the small summer fridge is from 2005, maybe it survived. the karsher is 15 years old, dead. the compressor is??? maybe it survived, maybe it didnt, but i saw it floating on its belly in mud water so yeah. the small oven and microwave i was keeping from a friend were his grandma's, dead. my washing machine is from at least 2010, only one button works now, it starts on its own & we cant change the programs anymore. my fridge is from the fucking fifties. its not broken *yet* but this year has not been a lucky year so far

plus two of the cars got water in... they're starting but if theres water damage thats not covered... and the vehicle safety inspection just got harder to pass... my mechanic had like 6 or 7 cars behind the garage that were just. going to the junkyard.

so will my insurance refund the time spent washing the house and garden?! or spent looking for my goldfish in the grass. or spent wondering if the cat last seen under a car made it somewhere else bc the water is now halfway to the tyres. or all the food that unfroze. or stressig over how this could probably happen again anytime now bc the environment is so fucked next week is heatwave then rain then heatwave then thunderstorm and the town doesnt care abt how shitty their water evacuation system is and the power outages did i mention the power outages bc these clowns make their live wires with ass hair

& they also dont refund the time spent on the phone with people saying "some people have it worse than you do!" yeah thanks! if you had two cents of empathy you'd realize all the reasons why that doesn't make me feel better! but youre just doing your job so i'll shut the fuck up!

im not... we're not dirt poor... we have a money cushion rn... bc family members died... but its money im so fucking scared to touch... bc i dont have a job... my moms job is not super well paying... we have way too many animals... the *human* health insurance here is pretty fucking great but i dont have a health insurance for every pet i have... and they need to eat... and we need to eat... the house is relatively expensive to maintain and we need to put it back in shape if we want to sell it to find a smaller less costly one... and now floods... that money is something we're all in all really fucking lucky to have, and i say that knowing a beloved grandpa died for us to have it

(and on that note; i can't 100% guarantee that for my entire life bc i dont know what the future is made of, but for as long as i can help it i will not have a ko-fi or a gofundme or even an amazon wishlist. theres so many people deeper in money issues than i have ever been. i cant pretend to understand what theyre going through or that i deserve even one percent of what they need.)

anyway thats not what i was gonna say. do you know how good for economy these disasters are? i gotta buy so much shit rn. even if i get help, that money is moving around and into some rich man's picket. my mechanic is overworked (but he always is lmao its the countryside theres always a car to repair) the car carriers have so much work the one who came for us found a way to make our car work again so he could *not* transport it.

theres so much money going around rn lmao. money to the laundromat bc our washer is kaput and we used a lot of towels and drapes to sponge off the water inside, and also regular clothes. money for the new pressure wash to take care of the mud everywhere in the verandas and garages. my neighbor got like 80 cm of mud in her house and she has to remake everything. she lost everything! shes gotta re-buy all that stuff! she'll get help but it's still money moving around! yaaaay!!!!!

so yeah! the planet's so fucked up it's mud party inside my neighbor's house! but the economy fucking LOVES that shit. gobbles it up like a babybel. doesnt even take the red wax off. om nom nom nom nom

anyway im fine its fine its cool isnt it cool everythings cool and fine and awesome late stage capitalism is a dream

[thicksimpx]

Rob Lucci x Reader (One Piece)

tag the artist if you know them please 🥵***

Warnings : mature content, mature language, Semi Modern Au, Manipulation, honey as aphrodisiac, public sex, rough sex, breeding, toxic relationship

Rob was used to people coming and going in his life. It didnt matter who it was, family, friend, lover etc. he never cared. However, there was something about you that made him care. Maybe it was because you were so innocent and beautiful, or the way other men looked at you when you went out together. It could've have been how he felt when you walked out on him a few days ago for being caught with another women and threatening to find a new man.  The couldn't be a new man in your life  because he was your man and you belonged to him.

After days of you ignoring him, he ended up on your doorstep with flowers in his hands as he apologized, begging on his knees for you not to leave him. He couldn't bare to see you with anyone else, he'll kill any man who touches you. But that wasn't enough. Tired of your whining he shoved his way into your apartment, flowers long forgotten as he fucked you into forgiving him.

Fucking you for hours knocked you out.  Hw stayed up staring at your sleeping body . He needed to make sure when you wake up in the morning you wouldn't ask him to leave. How could he stay in your life forever.

Now, Rob has never thought or even wanted kids but if thats what it took to have you in his life forever, he'll endure how ever many little creatures. You threatened to find someone else, How else could he make sure everyone knew you belong to him? Saying it was one thing but to have you walking around with your stomach swollen from carrying HIS spawn. Now that would keep any man away.

Of course he could kill every man that looked at you, but you'll get mad and leave again and thats the last thing he wants.

You shift away from him in your sleep laying on your back. The blanket falls down exposing your chest to him. Softly running his hands over your chest he groans lowly at the thought of him fucking into you with your belly swollen with his child made him, how big and swollen your chest will be filled with milk for the child. If you were awake you would hear the gears turning in his head as he thought of ways to convince you to let him breed you.

After all, you did say you didn't want children.

———-

The next morning, he popped tiny holes in all the condoms. He knew how careful you were when it came to your ovulation days. Making him wear a condom knowing he rather be balls deep and raw inside of you. He never knew when those days came so  just incase, he put holes in every single condom he had.

After doing some late night internet surfing he learning about raw honey being a aphrodisiac. Ordering some to come overnight from amazon that was expected to come by 6pm today which was perfect timing for everything he had planned.

"Where are you going ?" You voice came out dryly as you walked back into bedroom watching him hurriedly get dressed.

"I have to run home. Ill be back later tonight to pick you up. Dress nice" he says kissing your forehead and flying out the door behind you.

You huff and throw yourself on the bed as your front door slams closed "why wont he leave me alone if he wants to fuck other people!?" you screamed into your pillow.

——-

Rob called and told you he would be there around 8. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror. Admiring the way you chest and ass looked in the red satin dress.

"It 8 fucking 10 sweetheart, I'm sure I told you ill be here at 8 on the dot" you hear his neutral voice as your apartment door closes.

Carefully running out your room so you dont fall in your heels you see him sitting on your couch with his legs crossed.

"How'd you get in?"

"You look amazing as also, lets go" he stands up taking your coat off the hook holding it open for you to slip into.

—-

"You didnt have to rent out a whole restaurant for the night" you say lowly as the waiter came over with your meals.

"I did, you deserve it" he says rubbing his thumb over your hand.

Quietly, he watched you eat your honey glazed salmon made specially with the royal honey he bought specifically for you. When you claimed to be full he made sure to feed you the last few bites, scooping up some of the left over honey with each piece.

A few glasses of wine and 30 minutes later, By the time dessert came around, you mostly picked at it claiming to be full again. He noticed the way you were subtly squirming in your seat.

You felt hot and weird. You knew it wasn't the cheesecake that turned you on. Bastard must have drugged me again. You place a hand between your legs cupping your cunt, every nerve in you itching to rub you clit to ease the fire burning in you.

"R-rob." You say swallowing hard. "What did you give me? Is it that pink pussycat again?"

"No, I ate the same thing as you babe" He gives you a closed eye smile. "Why whats wrong"

"I-i feel- aahh" you moan when your nipples brush against the table when you lean in to whisper to him. Biting your lip you look around the restaurant to make sure no one was a around. On shaky legs you walk over to his side of the table. He pushes his chair out welcoming you into his lap. You glance at his lap seeing his dick rock hard through his white pants. Straddling him, you lean your back onto the table sliding your dress up.

"R-rob i need you" you whine softly.

Eagerly he stands and your wrap you legs around him. Laying you down on the table he throws the plates off with the crashing to the floor.

Smashing his lips to yours you throw his hat off his head somewhere to be found later.

"Excuse me did you wa-"

"Fuck off" Rob snaps at the waiter as he unbuttons his pants pulling his rock hard dick out. He grips your thighs dragging you down the table until your ass is hanging off. Sliding your panties to the side he whistles as how wet you are rubbing his thumb of your clit.

"Please .. " you cry from the teasing.

"Please what?" He ask playfully.

"P-Please put you dick in me already " you snap annoying at his tone.

"Now thats not how youre supposed to ask y/n" he coees rubbing the tip of his dick through your lips.

"Stop teasing me or im going to go fuck the wai- ohh ahh" slamming himself fully inside of you he hisses with his held tilted back at the way your warmth feels. He didn’t even need to prep you, you was so wet he slipped right in. Slowly he drags his dick back and forth through you walls.

"You're going go fuck who?" He ask leaning down  to press kisses and suck on your neck as he slowly thrust into you.

"No-no one" you moan.

"That's what in thought"  he says picking up his pace.

"More" you demand.

"Oh, she wants more?" He cooes thrusting harder into you feeling your cunt clench around him.

"Yes, yes , yes" you cry out.

Slamming into you,  your moans, the sound of the table creaking under you, glass breaking, skin slapping and squelching could be heard throughout the restaurant m. The tip of his dick kissing  your cervix with every thrust making your body jerk in his hold.

"Im going to make you so full tonight" he groans "youre going to have my baby"

"N-no no baby" you moan.

"Oh then maybe i should stop"

"No daddy, dont stop please im so close " you cry

"But you dont want my baby" he says stopping his thrust. “Thats to bad” he says pulling out running his hand down your body brushing over your clit.

“I-im sorry , please” you beg tugging him back towards you. How could he resist when you begged so sweetly?

Tugging you off the table to your feet, he turned you around slamming you face down onto the table burying himself back into you. You moan echoed around the restaurant as you gripped the table trying to keep yourself up as he rammed into.

“You begged me because deep don’t you want to have my baby, don’t you?” He ask through gritted teeth gripping your throat tightly. You couldn’t focus. This man was trying fuck a baby into you and you’re on the verge of cumming.

"Yes yes daddy i want to have your baby" you cried out drooling on the table as you came. He felt you cunt clench around him and landed a hard smack

to your ass strokes never faltering. Your juices sliding down your legs as you squirted around him.

“That’s it, princess, give in to me.” He hummed “you’re going look so beautiful swollen with my child. Ill give you whatever you want.. whenever”

Feeling his dick twitching your snapped back into reality. “Rob p-pull out”

“Thats right, Beg, beg me to cum in you" he grunts not even hearing you as he tightened the hand on your throat cumming you with shallow thrust.

When he finally filled you with his cum you with his cum, your cunt quivering around him, you felt the heat from earlier subside momentarily as you came for a third time.

Sighing in relief as he pulled out you felt his cum sliding out your cunt between your thighs. You tell yourself to remember to take a plan b when you get home. That is until you start to feel hot again.

“B-babe,” you mumbled “i need more”

“Anything for you” he says throwing your over his shoulder and carrying you out of the restaurant. He was taking you home with him. No condoms or no plan b’s insight.

It didnt matter how long it took he was going to fuck you until his baby was in you even if it took all night if it meant you’ll be with him forever.

——

Thicksimpx© 2021. Do not copy, claim, modify or translate my work without my permission. thank 😘

[strangelittlestories]

Salt weathered skin

Because I have been thinking about monsters and mythical creatures recently, have a story... [CN: allusions to coercive relationships, child birth, and gore.]

When David stole the selkie skin, it almost seemed too easy.

It had caught its eye as the salt breeze indifferently picked at its edges, making it flutter. But even the wind didn’t seem to care enough to pick it up, leaving it caught on a weather-worn rock like so much drift-trash.

A tang of kelp filled his nostrils as he got closer to it. Kelp and something else too, a rich musk like sweat or maybe cooking fat? He thought maybe it was wreckage, a pelt or coat that had belonged to some unlucky sailor. Maybe he could take it to the nearby village to sell?

But once he saw it up close, once he saw its soft spotted texture and its smooth lines, he knew it for what it was. It was clearly a garment, a coat made to be worn, but with no lines or stitching or buttons to fasten - simply fine seamless skin. It reminded him of the way moss grew over a stone, or the way fire smoke or song could be carried along on a gale.

He picked it up, folded it carefully, and carried it back to his cottage.

He left his door - a thick thing, made of many pieces of snugly joined driftwood - ajar. He thought for a moment and took down the horseshoe that hung above it and placed it in his pocket. Feeling a chill creep in from the sea, he set about making a fire to keep it at bay.

The hearth began to crackle. He took an old cast iron pot and put some water on to boil, adding some fragrant nettle and raspberry leaves. He let it stew for a while and set out two clay mugs on the table.

He placed the folded coat in the bottom of his sea chest.

When he heard the door open, he did not turn towards it. Instead, he ladled out two mugs of steaming tisane from the pot and set one in front of him and the other across from it, keeping his eyes on the task.

He heard the door close and felt the air shift as someone sat in his other chair - it did not creak. Only then did he look up at his guest.

The woman in front of him was heavy-set with short hair of the palest blonde that clung to her scalp. She looked at him with eyes like storms and he stared back. He felt air catch in his throat and he was breathless.

Despite her thick build, there was something about her - perhaps the way she held herself - that made her seem barely there. Her silhouette was out of contrast with the cosy surroundings of the cottage. Only her strong, calloused fingers seemed real, as she warmed them around the steaming mug.

They sat there in silence for a while. He was aware, amidst the thickness of that silence, that there was a question that was being answered. He knew, too, that it was not entirely a fair one.

Her eyes cast around David’s home, taking in the few pieces of worn but well-cared furniture, the nets hanging from one corner of the ceilings, the tools and rods on the walls, and the faint lines in the dust that marked the lack of horseshoe above the door. David looked only at her.

“Okay.” She said, eventually. “This will do.”

That night, he made a stew of fish and bladderwrack for the two of them, flavoured with plenty of fresh onions, wild garlic and rosemary.

She helped him prepare the fish, ignoring the knife he offered her and slicing them down the belly with a sharp nail. She licked the guts and juices from her fingers and smiled. He was entranced. He stared at a droplet of viscera on her thin worn lips and she tilted her head quizzically, then she kissed him. 

The blood of the sea mingled on their lips. He realised he had not been able to catch his breath since he’d first seen her.

The next day, he went about his business as usual and she went about hers. He did not expect her to help as he sat stitching the thick, coarse threads of his nets, and she did not care to. Instead, she wrapped herself in his thick woolen coat, took a couple of coins from the few in a pot by the door, and returned hours later wearing a shift of oilcloth.

She spent the rest of the day walking by the beach. As he set off to make the daily catch, he saw her picking at stones and skipping them across the waves, or taking limpets from rocks and sucking the flesh into her mouth;  the glint of her teeth was clear even through the sea mist.

At the end of the day, after they had eaten and talked softly about this and that, she looked at him earnestly and asked:

“What will my name be?”

He thought for a moment and then said:

“Doris.” Which means ‘gift of the ocean’.

In that moment, the lines around her eyes and face seemed to grow firmer, as she settled into the world a little. He felt a burning in his lungs.

Then they slept.

They spent their days like this. Him: doing his work amongst the waves, his skin growing ever more salt and windworn. Her: walking the shore, gathering thistles and herbs, collecting interesting rocks, and going to market to buy what things they needed and learn the workings of the creatures who walked on the dirt.

Some time later, Doris became with child.

The birth was surprisingly easy, the babe almost slipping out into the basin in a burst of blood and brine.

The child had a strange undulous nature to them. Their skin was thick, sheened with ichor and sea foam, their nose sleek and button-like. But their eyes were big and round and baby blue.

“What will they be?” David asked with wonder.

“They will be what they choose to be.” Doris replied, in a tired whisper. “And they will live between the waves and the shore until they decide.”

David stopped for a moment, something hard felt caught on the edge of his thoughts, pressing with sharp edges on his brow.

“They can’t go to school or learn a trade in the waves.” He said, eventually.

Doris sighed and leaned back, settling into the bed.

“Then you must decide for them.” And she nodded towards the knife that still sat on the counter where David had prepared their dinner the previous night.

David looked at his child and looked at the knife. He did not reach for it, but instead reached out for the child with one finger. He was surprised to find that his nail was sharp and the flickering cast a wicked, hooked shadow.

He put the tiny garment in his sea chest along with the one he’d found on the beach. Sometimes, as the child grew, he would open the chest and look inside. His chest felt tight when he did so, in a way he didn’t like to think about. And, as the child grew, so did their coat.

In the years that followed, David began to become ill. He had thought, at first, that the feeling of breathlessness whenever he looked at Doris was something wonderful: a sign that no matter how many years past, she still made him feel like the nervous young man who had hoped and prayed his selkie bride would stay. That this life just past the sea’s edge, with him, would be enough for her.

But as the feeling grew ever stronger, his breath ever harder to catch, his lungs burning even on short walks inland … he began to fear he was ill.

The village wisewoman examined him. She counted his breaths. She scrutinised the colour of his blood between two lenses of green sea glass. She gave him sweet tinctures of peppermint and thyme and goldenrod. But she could find nothing wrong, other than growing the feeling of never quite being able to trap a full catch of air in his chest.

It became so bad that it was difficult for him to take fish to market or even mend his boat and nets. Strangely, though, he always seemed to find the breath to take his boat out onto the water. He began spending longer and longer at sea...

Doris went to the wisewoman next. They spoke for a long time. When they both returned to the cottage, they brought no potions or balms or contraptions. Instead, Doris simply took David by one hand, and their child by the other, and led them all over to the sea chest.

Doris had never approached it before. Had never shown the inclination. But she did so now, leading the trio with careful steady steps. The wisewoman opened the latch and pulled out the linens, spare nets, trinkets and sailcloth - at the bottom, two sealskin coats.

Doris picked it up and looked at it fondly. But she did not put it on.

Neither Doris nor David moved. In the silence, they were both aware that a question was being answered. They were both aware that the answer was a fair one.

They kept not moving. They looked at each other and both saw that neither of their outlines seemed quite real amongst the cosy surroundings of the cottage.

Then the wisewoman patted their child on the shoulder, and the child reached out towards David with one finger. In the flicker of the fireplace and the oil lamps, that finger seemed to cast a hooked shadow.

David nodded, slowly. There were no more questions to ask.

The hooked shadow descended.

A few moments or perhaps an agonised lifetime later, David covered up his silvery fishlike blood with the selkie coat that he’d found all those years ago.

Doris, too, put on a new coat of faded pink skin, weathered by sea and salt.

David left the cottage and took to the sea. He left his boat behind. 

The wisewoman followed to see him off.

Doris and the child did not. They sat down and both went to work mending their nets; they would sell them tomorrow at market, along with the boat and the cottage, then begin a long comfortable walk inland. Their silhouettes, as they walked away, would seem perfectly at home in the bright light of the country morning.

When the surf struck David’s chest, he found he could breathe again.

[renegadepack]

Leah and the boys went on vacation

Family reunion?

Now that everyone was grown up, and had families and jobs and lives of their own, it was a lot harder to find time to hang out in a group like they used to. But not for lack of trying. Every time something was planned, a work emergency or familial obligation or illness or any number of things would pop up. It just wouldn’t be the same without everyone there. So they were ecstatic when the kids’ spring breaks lined up, business was slow, and everyone could take a week off to meet up in La Push, just like old times. 

Jacob still lived in the house he had grown up in, giving him the closest residence to the beach. Most everyone else still lived in town, with a few exceptions. Leah and her wife lived in Seattle; Seth was more than happy to house them for the week. He lived with his wife and kids a few doors down from Jacob. Quil and Embry lived between them. Their house was small but they had a couch big enough for Paul to crash on; he was used to couch-surfing between gigs anyway. Sam and Emily lived across town, and had plenty of room for Jared, Kim, and their daughter.

They all met up on the beach, like they used to. Paul, Leah, and Jacob raced there, calling taunts to each other the whole way. Leah, of course, won and didn’t let them forget it for the rest of the week. Everyone else followed behind them, keeping up a steady stream of conversation on the way. They kept up with each other on social media and through phone calls and texts, but there was still so much to catch up on. Sam and Emily drove with Jared and his family; they showed up early to start setting up. Emily brought plenty of treats from her bakery, and Paul and Seth had spent plenty of time in the kitchen preparing more savory snacks.

They had tons of games and events going throughout the week; cornhole, volleyball, art contests, eating contests, different races and other challenges. The old pack members sat in the sand as they watched their children play in the water. Leah had brought some of her pets down, and all the kids loved chasing the dogs with the waves. They talked about anything and everything that was going on in their lives: Kim’s new book, Jared’s patients, Paul’s upcoming tour, Emily’s bakery, Seth’s classes, Leah’s adventures, and the mechanic shop Jacob ran with Quil and Embry. It seemed they never ran out of stories to tell or questions to ask.

Every night, they held a bonfire on the beach. It provided warmth and light, and added more nostalgia and meaning to the gathering. The kids had demanded smores, and the adults were only too happy to provide. Emily went all out, going through a plethora of recipes of crackers and cookies she could bake. Everyone else pitched in to provide all kinds of chocolate bars and other candies, and as many flavors of marshmallows as they could find. Paul even tried to make his own, with moderate success. Everyone had a blast trying different combinations, and offering suggestions of new ones for someone else to try.

As the night wound down, with bellies full of sugar and everyone huddled under blankets, they began telling stories. Some of their own time in the pack, interwoven with their own legends. They saw no need to begin their transformations again, but wanted their children to be prepared, just in case. Jacob told most of them, with Sam and occasionally Leah or Seth adding more details. As they finished, the moon high in the sky, they gathered up what they could carry, back to their houses to get ready for another day together.

more fic // request fic

[takerfoxx]

Blood Island, Chapter 4

Climbing back down from the Carmilla’s Fancy was a slow and painful process, but Nuriel wasn’t left with much choice. She was hurt, and she needed to find out how badly.

Finally she dropped down to the sand. Her knees buckles and she staggered, which sent fresh lances of pain across her stomach. Wincing, she grabbed onto a nearby beech trunk and pulled herself back up to her feet and started limping toward the water.

The sun was dipping toward the horizon, but it hadn’t reached it yet, so there was still plenty of light to see by. She waded in up to her calves and slowly pulled the tails of her shirt out of her trousers to inspect the damage.

The cuts were painful, but fortunately shallow. They were bleeding freely, but it didn’t look like anything important had been punctured. Nuriel carefully knelt down and washed them the best she could. The salt water set the fires burning anew and brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she endured.

When she had gotten most of the filth off, she cupped water in her hand and gingerly washed her ear.

The information she got from her fingers wasn’t good. That bird had taken a decent chunk out of her ear, and the flesh that remained was torn and ragged. Just touching it caused the burning pain to flare up.

Nuriel shivered. She was fucked. She was utterly fucked. She might not be in any danger of bleeding out, but wounds like that were sure to get infected. She would die just as easily from that as she would from getting ripped apart, and probably a lot more slowly at that.

Biting down on her lower lip, she glanced around to ensure that nothing was stalking her. Then she yanked out the strips of linen that she had used to bind her breasts and wrapped them around the cuts on her stomach. The pressure brought fresh tears of pain to her eyes, but she knotted them tight and gingerly tucked her shirt back in.

With any luck, the cuts would close without infection. The missing chunk of her ear was gone for good, but it wasn’t the first time someone had taken a large piece of flesh from her, and it was a lot less crippling than last time. At least she could still hear. At least she could-

The white-hot blade sliced through flesh, charring in its wake. Nuriel shrieked and bucked, but the restraints held her in place as Master Reginald coldly made good on his threat.

Sitting restrained across from her, Father wept as he watched. He had to watch. Master Reginald had warned him not to turn away, lest he take off a larger chunk.

Finally it was done, and Nuriel collapsed, weeping around a mouthful of blood and pain. Ignoring her agony, Master Reginald took the lump of flesh into his gloved hands and turned to Father. “I trust I’ve made my point,” he said coldly, and tossed the lump right into Father’s lap. Father grimaced in disgust, but he said nothing. Master Reginald had told him that Nuriel would lose one finger for every word Father said.

“She will live,” Master Reginald continued as he dispassionately pulled off his gloves. “But disappoint me again, and I’ll take something she cannot afford to live without. Do you understand me?”

Nuriel was barely paying any attention. All she knew was pain. Pain, and a gaping emptiness where there hadn’t been one, an emptiness that told her that she would never be the same, never be-

Nuriel’s face twisted up, and she angrily wiped away the tears that had started forming. Stop it, she told herself. Nothing’s gained from going back there. Father’s dead. Master Reginald is dead. It’s just you. And if you survived that, you can survive this.

It was a nice thought, but she could only wish that it was true.

Once she had calmed herself down, Nuriel sighed and turned back to the Carmilla’s Fancy. Getting back aboard was not going to be easy, but it was her best chance to find someplace halfway safe.

The first time she had climbed up, she hadn’t had to worry about moving in any particular way. This time she had to make sure not to bend at the waist too much, to rely on her arms’ to pull herself up through the ladder of branches.

It hurt more than going down did.

Finally she was able to pull herself onto the deck. She rolled onto her back and just lay there, gasping in agony.

She was so fucked.

When the burning had ebbed down into a tolerable throbbing, Nuriel gingerly rolled over and pushed herself up with her palms. Her legs felt wobbly beneath her, but she could stand.

All right, she had the ship to herself now. The bird had fled, and with any luck it would stay away.

Then Nuriel cast a glare over to the captain’s quarters, where its nest was. So long as that was there, there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t be back.

It took some work, but Nuriel was able to wrestle both doors shut. There. At least that damn bird wasn’t going to be slinking back in while she slept.

In the meantime, she needed a place of her own to sleep, and it wasn’t going to be out in the open. Nuriel warily eyed the hatch that led down to the cargo hold. It was shut, so maybe there was a chance that nothing had crawled in.

Opening it sent fresh lances of pain across her belly, but she winced and endured. The sun was close to setting and provided little light down the wooden stairs. Nuriel turned her head this way and that, trying to catch some kind of glimpse of anything that might be lurking within.

When nothing leapt at her face or growled in warning, she began to climb down the steps.

The steps groaned under her feet, but they held her weight, which was good sign. Also, while the ship’s interior smelled plenty damp and musty, she couldn’t pick out anything that smelled especially animalistic, no sign of anything taking up residence in the crew’s absence. Another good sign.

Nuriel sniffed again. Speaking of the crew, she didn’t even smell anything like decaying flesh. Well, maybe fortune was favoring her for once. No angry beasts, and no angry ghosts. Two points in her new home’s favor.

Still, not being able to see much of her surrounding put her ill at ease. This was not the first time she had been forced to sleep in a strange, dark place, and those instances had not always gone well.

Hoping against hope that nothing would disturb her that night, Nuriel went back up the steps and pulled the hatch closed again. Then she carefully felt her way back down until she found a corner next to a post that seemed reasonably dry.

Nuriel eased herself down and stretched out her legs. She shifted her weight around until she found a position that put little pressure on her stomach. Then she closed her eyes.

Nuriel had a number of rituals that she employed whenever she needed to fall asleep quickly. Given the number of uncomfortable places and situations she had gotten herself into over the years, she had gotten quite adept at snatching whatever bits of rest that she could no matter where she was or how much danger she was in.

Counting rats. Yes. Just imagine a ship’s hold, with rats darting from one end to the other. Picture the gentle rocking of the ship, the creaking of the timbers, the clanging of the ship’s bell, and count. One rat, two rats…

She got as far as seven before the darkness took her.

…

Laying a hand on Nuriel’s chest, the native girl gently pushes her back, so that Nuriel is lying flat on her back in the sand. Her ears fill with the sound of the night surf washing against the shore, and far off, the crew is still singing merrily around the bonfire.

Nuriel doesn’t care about any of that. All she can see is the native girl’s dark eyes, like two pools of liquid night, and her smile, her teeth shining bright in the shadows that cover her face. Her curly black hair falls in waves around her bare shoulders, and when she slowly lays her body across Nuriel’s, it spills down onto Nuriel’s chest like a curtain.

Their lips meet, and Nuriel can’t keep herself from groaning out loud.

The native girl sits up again, her legs straddling Nuriel’s hips. Their gazes still locked, the girl calmly reaches up and unwraps her garment from around her middle, loosening it. A casual push, and it drops down in a pile around her waist.

Nuriel inhales sharply.

Still smiling, the girl closes her eyes and lets out a pleased sigh.

When she opens them again, they are now the color of freshly spilled blood and glowing like embers. Her smile widens, exposing knifelike fans.

And when she dips down again, she goes not for Nuriel’s lips, but her neck.

…

Thump.

Nuriel’s eyes snapped open. There was the rush of bewilderment that came from being abruptly wakened, but that was banished from her mind with practiced ease. Within moments the dream was forgotten, sleep was forgotten, she had remembered where she was and why, and was on high alert.

It was now in the dead of night, if the complete darkness surrounding her was any indication. Nuriel took quick stock of herself. Her stomach and ear still ached, but not as badly as they had before. More importantly, she was untouched.

However, she was not alone.

Thump. Skitter.

There was something on the deck. She could hear its claws scratching the wood.

Her right hand started shaking. She quickly covered it with her left and listened. Maybe it was just some tree-dwelling animal that had wandered on board, like another monkey or something like that.

Then she heard a hoarse, cackling cry, a very familiar one at that. Nuriel felt icy fingers of fear slide down her back. The bird was back.

She listened as it walked across the deck, sometimes pausing to claw at the timbers. She was pretty sure that it couldn’t get in, so all she had to do was wait until it left. In time it would realize that hunting her was futile and give up.

And maybe if she wished hard enough she would end up growing wings herself to fly her away.

The bird called out again. It wasn’t the harsh cackle of warning from before, nor was it the screeches of pain as it flew off. This call was shrill and drawn out, clearly some kind of message.

A message that was answered.

Another call responded from further off, and Nuriel heard the sound of flapping wings. Then there was another call, and another, and another. She closed her eyes and mentally recited every profanity that she knew. Not only was the bird back, but it had brought friends.

Soon the air was filled with flapping wings, angry cries, and thumps on the deck above as the birds all came in for a landing. She couldn’t even begin to guess how many there were; she just knew that if they somehow managed to get in then she would be torn apart.

She heard them hopping across the deck and scratching at the hatch. They knew where she was, and they had come for blood.

The scratching grew louder as the birds started to go at the deck itself, and something soft landed on her head. Nuriel jerked, and instinctively covered her hand. More of the stuff fell across her fingers. Sawdust. The birds were looking for weak points in the deck and trying to claw their way through.

Nuriel eased herself up and looked around. There was next to no light to see by, but here and there were tiny cracks and holes in the ship’s hull to let in slivers of moonlight. One hole in particular looked large enough for her to see through. She crept along, one hand feeling her way while the other clutched Saint George, with her heart pounding away the whole time.

She made it to the hole. Kneeling down, she got in close to take a look. Outside, she couldn’t see much other than the moonlit sands sinking into the water. She maneuvered her body around, trying to get a glimpse of the sky.

Suddenly her vision was taken up by a single golden eye, staring through the hole back at her.

Nuriel fell back as the bird screeched in anger. It went to work attacking the hole by jamming its beak through to widen it.

Nuriel stared in horror as the bird aggressively ripped at the decaying hull, sometimes using its beak while other times its talons. Other birds were answered its calls, and she could hear them swooping in to attach themselves to the ship.

Not knowing what else to do, she stabbed Saint George at the dark-feathered talon that was shoving its way into the hole. It immediately withdrew with an angry hiss.

Then Nuriel felt something grab onto Saint George’s blade from the other side. Panicked, she tried to pull him back, but the bird yanked again.

No, no, no, no! This couldn’t happen! She couldn’t end like this, torn apart by a flock of feathered monsters, with her only possession that meant anything to her stolen and defiled.

Nuriel braced her legs against the wall and pushed with all her strength as she pulled back with both arms. She was not going to let Saint George go! Papa had given him to her, Papa had made her promise to take care of him! If she was going to die, it was going to be with Saint George in her hands, blood on his blade, and not carried away to adorn some flying monstrosity’s nest!

She pulled once, twice, and then finally managed to yank him free. She was sent sprawling onto her back as the bird outside screamed in pain and rage.

Dazed, Nuriel lifted Saint George up. Sure enough, there was a streak of dark red on the blade. She had managed to take a piece after all. Well, there was that comfort at least.

Then she giggled. Some comfort. She was moments away from a very gory, very painful end, but hey, at least she still had her knife.

Then, audible even over the birds’ screeching and squawking, a whistle sounded from off in the distance.

A shrill human whistle.

The birds all stopped there clawing and cackling, and for one bewildering moment there was complete silence.

A harsh, guttural sound that was part roar, part snarl, and part scream responded, and Nuriel heard something that was very much like several very large dogs huffing as dozens of feet pounded the sand.

Then the birds began to scream.

Nuriel had no idea what was going on. It sounded like there was a war going on outside, one filled with avian shrieks of rage and pain. The birds were going to war with something apparently, something that equaled them in numbers and savagery. She heard several of the birds’ cackles get suddenly cut off, followed by growls and the sound of ripping flesh and snapping bones.

Then the deck above thumped again as the new somethings leapt on board. Nuriel could hear them scurrying this way and that as they attacked the birds, could see where the beams of moonlight were cut off as their bodies passed over the holes.

How long the fight lasted, she had no idea, but before she knew it the remaining birds had given up. At least the sound of their squawking drew further and further away as they retreated into the night sky.

Above and below, her unlikely rescuers continued to dart this way and that, apparently finishing off any bird too wounded to fly and probably making a meal of their remains. There was a lot of growling, a lot of ripping, and a lot of breaking.

And Nuriel was lying very, very still.

She had no idea exactly what had shown up to drive the birds off, but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they were actually on her side. No, it was just some rival pack of animals, one that would be more than happy to rend her apart in the birds’ stead.

However, there was one advantage in her favor, and that was that they didn’t know she was there. So if she stayed very still and prayed to whoever might be listening that they didn’t smell-

The sounds of feasting stopped. And then she heard something sniffing.

Aw fuck.

The boards of the deck creaked as the newcomers walked this way and that, sniffing and snarling. Nuriel held Saint George to her chest with both hands and closed her eyes.

Then whoever it was that had let out that whistle that had sounded off the attack whistled again. In response, the newcomers immediately retreated, leaping off the ship to the sands below and scurrying away.

Oh.

Well.

That happened.

Nuriel was internally debating the pros and cons of unclenching her muscles and quite possibly even moving when something new thumped onto the deck. It stood still for a moment, and then began to walk across it.

Whatever it was, it was lighter of foot than even the birds. Nuriel could barely hear the padding of its footsteps as it made its way from the stern to the…

It stopped next to the hatch.

Nuriel held her breath.

Then with an agonizing creak, the hatch was hauled open, letting moonlight shine into the storage hold.

And then something stepped onto the top step of the stairs.

Though every muscle was tensed up with terror, Nuriel forced herself to at roll slowly onto her side to face whatever it was that was coming down, whether it be the biggest and nastiest bird there was or one of those scaly monsters or a man-sized spider.

It was none of those things.

Nuriel’s gaze drifted from the bottom of the stairs to the top. And standing there, silhouetted against the stars, was a human form.

It was a woman, one with long and wild hair and a ragged dress. Her features were completely shrouded in darkness, but Nuriel could see a pair of shining scarlet eyes, staring directly down at her.

The breath caught in Nuriel’s throat. Her dream returned to her. The red-eyed monster in the jungle was real.

Time seemed to slow and stretch on and on as they two held each other’s gazes, the monster’s calm, burning gaze boring into Nuriel’s terrified eyes.

Then, so suddenly it sent a jolt of surprise down Nuriel’s spine, the red-eyed monster suddenly looked away, up toward the sky.

Nuriel blinked. It took less than a second, just a quick shuttering of her eyes. Nevertheless, the red-eyed monster was right in front of her, but in the space of time it took for her eyelids to briefly pass down and up again, it was gone.

And then the hatch swung closed, seemingly of its own accord.

Nuriel waited in the dark, listening intently. Her ear was throbbing again, as were the cuts on her belly, but she pushed the pain out of her mind and tried to pick out any sign of the red-eyed monster’s movement.

There was none. It was gone.

Nuriel remained where she was, hands clasped around Saint George’s handle and pressing him to her chest, for the rest of the night.

…

When Nuriel’s eyes opened again, she was still lying flat on her back, hands clutching Saint George to her chest, staring right up at the ceiling.

It was daytime. Exactly when, she had no way of really telling, but the sun was up and seeping through the cracks and holes that dotted the Santa Camarilla’s hull.

She had survived the night.

She had made it.

Nuriel slowly closed her eyes and opened them again. Then she let her head fall to the left, so that she was looking toward the hole that the bird had been trying to break through.

Nothing.

So far, so good. Nuriel righted her head, and then let it drop to her right, laying her cheek flat against the wood.

Immediately agony flared up in her ear, bringing tears to her eyes. Nuriel gasped and immediately jerked her head away, relieving the pressure.

Her ear continued to throb. Nuriel lay as still as she could, waiting for the pain to recede into something manageable.

Gradually the fire cooled, but it didn’t die, and that scared Nuriel the most. Pain she could manage, but if anything it was now hurting more than it had the night before.

Infection.

Nuriel shivered. She had seen what an infected wound could do, had seen small cuts turn into ugly, rotting messes that grew and grew, had seen fully grown men be reduced to shivering, delirious wrecks when they got too bad. She had seen many of them die.

Though her chin was trembling, Nuriel closed her eyes and took a moment to compose herself. Then she gingerly rolled around the best she could and pushed herself up.

At the very least, the wounds in her stomach didn’t seem infected. They still ached, but they didn’t burn. Hopefully in time they would heal.

Hopefully.

Careful to not upset anything that might split open, Nuriel limped her way to the stairs. The hatch was closed, so most of it was covered in shadow, but she could make out their shapes at least.

There was something on them.

Nuriel paused. There, sitting on one of the middle steps was a basket. And there was something in the basket. The red-eyed monster must have left it.

Which meant that it had returned while she had been asleep. It had reopened the hatch and left the basket while she had been asleep. Now that was something that she was not comfortable with at all.

Nuriel continued to move slowly forward, now more out of caution than pain. The basket didn’t move, so it probably didn’t contain tiny flesh-eating beetles or giant worms or poisons snakes or something like that, but she was ruling no possibility out. She ascended the first few steps and looked inside.

Fruit. The basket was full of fruit. There were a couple of the yellow fruits she had pilfered from the monkeys, as well as some that were bright red and spiky. There were a couple of small green ones with rough skins, and a several smaller ones that honestly looked like blue grapes. And in the center was something long, fat, and purple.

Nuriel recognized exactly none of it.

What was more, there was a piece of paper lying on top. And on the paper was writing.

Nuriel picked it up and walked over to one of the beams of sunlight that was pouring in through a hole. Her reading skills were rusty due to recent lack of use, though they were fortunately passable. Father had made sure of that.

And the note was simple.

Hello.

Do not be afraid. I am a friend.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 136

136

It was getting harder and harder to talk to Keith. He didn’t hate or blame his boyfriend. Lance just missed him so much. Nothing felt the same. He should be happy. None of his family here knew he was a vampire, none of them knew he was the same Lance that left, only that they remembered “his father when he was a little boy”. The family was loud. Loud and loving, and religious. His Mami spent so much time with them that he regretted them not coming back sooner.

With Mami busy, it should have been easy to find a moment alone to talk to Keith. His mum spent more time with the family than at hotel now, meaning he’d scored one or two private conversations. He’d scored some serious alone time too, for a very... graphic call. Then... then everything started going wrong again. Keith wouldn’t be home for Christmas. He wouldn’t be home for New Years. He wouldn’t be home for a while now and Lance’s heart broke on the spot. Keith was so apologetic. So sad to tell him. Lance had called him to show him the beach down from the hotel, where dozens of tourists had flocked during their vacations. He’d “splurged”. Got a nice umbrella, a really nice big red towel, a good book, and called up Keith. He couldn’t blame Keith. Zarkon was pissed at Lotor. Lotor dropped contact when he’d gone home to face his father. Keith roped into the mission to find out what was going on. He’d promised to call when he could, but it wasn’t the same. Keith was always so tired. They barely talked a handful of minutes at a time, then he had to go completely silent.

Lance had gone back to the hotel room and cried. He couldn’t do much else. He’d put on a brave wobbly smile for Keith, but Keith was supposed to be back the next week. The conversation playing on loop in his mind like a torturous reminder of how far apart they were and that they seemed to be drifting apart further by the day. He was supposed to come back then come down to Cuba. Now he didn’t know where the fuck his boyfriend was, or when he’d be home again. He’d cried and cried so much that Mami had to get a lift back to the hotel from one the cousins. Holding him against her, she kissed his hair and hushed him until he was calm enough to talk to her.

He really shouldn’t be saying Mami spent all her time with the family. Not more than what was expected, and they’d had a lot of fun playing tourists and doing all the things tourists did that Mami was up for. A few people tried to fleece them, thinking them dumb tourists until Mami put them in their places. No one messed with his Mami, not when she was Cuban born and bread. They’d gone dancing. Picked the most expensive place they could for dinner. Eaten ice cream by the beach, as she told him about the first time his Papi taught Luis to surf on a long board. She’d told him so much of the stories about her and his dad. They’d gone driving, Mami talking about the trouble they used to get up to, visiting the farms where Jorge had worked and the family farm that was still being run by cousins. He loved how happy she was. It was like 50 years had been knocked off her life. He’d heard too much... like his father being good in bed, but seeing all these places again after so much time was amazing. And that Mami would remember something from so long ago... He took back wanting Coran to take them back home.

Seeing Keith couldn’t come back in time, Lance decided against going back for Christmas. His Mami had told the family that he was expecting his first children, and boy did the aunts fuss. They wanted to know everything about “Lance’s son”. Lance didn’t know if he lived up to all the hype, but he did remember to bring flowers and accept kisses... and weird hugs where they couldn’t feel his extending belly. They were touched he’d followed his father into law, leading to him being too smart more than once. Lies about a sun allergy and a bunch of allergies covered up when he was feeling ill. Mami had forced enough home remedies for morning sickness down his throat he literally feared what she’d come up with next. He missed his boyfriend with all his heart. And every day away without proper word, or any word, weighed on him so heavily he wasn’t sure how he’d ever lived without Keith. But spending this time with Mami and no fear felt good.

*

Parking in front of Lance’s house, Keith eyes the lights on the living room with fear and excitement... and a whole lot of happiness to be home again. Two months he’d been away from Lance. Two fucking bullshit months. He hadn’t been able to get hold of Lance for the last few weeks, after breaking his boyfriend’s heart it felt strained every time they talked face to face. Lance knew he couldn’t answer his phone, so he’d expected a flurry of messages and missed calls, like normal, when he’d come back from the ridiculousness. There’d been nothing. Well, not nothing, his boyfriend had texted a couple of times to say he loved him, but overall, he’d kind of been out of full contact from the 28th of December. He tried Lance’s phone as soon as the shit storm finally settled. He’d tried messaging him. He’d tried Lance’s personal phone and work phone. He’d tried his home phone. Shiro and Curtis were coming back next week. His idiot brother went and broke his arm. Matt and Rieva had already come back earlier... but their car wasn’t in the drive. He knew he’d hurt Lance by not being there, but it felt like a kick to the gut that his boyfriend hadn’t tried to reach out at all.

Taking an earlier, public, flight. He’d rented a car, then headed straight up to Garrison. He hadn’t even had a “Merry Christmas” in the slightest. Mami had to explain that Lance was resting, and not doing too well. His boyfriend barely got to talk to him the following day, pale and sleepy, while assuring him it was from mami’s latest idea on how to help with this morning sickness. He hated that he’d only been able to find 5 minutes of alone time to be with Lance.

Climbing out the car, Keith fixed his jacket up, hoping he didn’t look like he’d spent hours stuck on a place that had far too many people on it. He hoped Lance was there, and that nothing had gone wrong in his absence. Jogging up to the front door, Keith knocked. Hunk’s car was in the drive, but Lance’s wasn’t. He hoped that meant Lance’s car was being serviced. He was going crazy. He’d tried to think of what he’d said or done that could have driven Lance from him. He never wanted to be away that long. February had started just as he finally arrived back in Rome. He hadn’t seen Lance what felt like two years. No. Every day felt like two years. Matt delighted at teasing him over it. Fucking werewolves didn’t age like normal people. He wasn’t stupid. Two and half years human years was like one years worth of again for werewolves. It wasn’t fair.

Opening the door, Hunk stared at him. His friend looked like he’d seen better days too. He’d missed them. He hadn’t heard from them either in the last two weeks. Shuffling forward, Hunk wrapped his arms around Keith. It should have been a happy hug, yet Keith could feel there was more to it. Hugging Hunk back, he didn’t force him to tell him where Lance was. The sick feelings of fear and dread so damn heavy that he feared he’d throw up if he opened his mouth. Breaking the hug, Hunk let out a long breath

“Oh, man. It’s so good to see you back. Does Lance know you’re back? Does this means he’ll be coming back again?”

Again? He was missing something...

“Hun.-.. Holy Shit!”

Pidge came running from the living room, Keith catching her as she launched herself at him for a hug

“I can’t believe you’re back! When you missed the funeral I wasn’t sure you’d ever be coming back. Is Lance with you?”

Funeral? What funeral? And where was Lance? His confusion showed. Hunk looking pained

“You’d better come in, man. You’ve missed a lot”

A fine layer of dust covered most things in the house. There was evidence that Hunk and Pidge had tried to keep on top of the housework, but it was far cry from Lance’s standards. The house felt cold. Empty. Painfully abandoned as he followed Hunk into the kitchen. He had to know what was happening here. Lance’s house was warm and bright. Happy and safe. Not like this

“What’s going on? And what’s this about a funeral?”

Hunk sighed heavily as he went about getting the coffee pod into the machine. Pidge sitting herself on the kitchen counter, looking sad as she did

“You didn’t hear?”

Keith shook his head

“I’ve been trying to reach Lance but he hasn’t replied. I thought he’d be back here by now”

Pidge bit her lip, eyes getting wet behind her glasses. Hunk turning to him

“His mum died. They had the funeral three ago”

Keith staggered because he didn’t see that coming. Hunk came to his aid, taking him by the arm and pulling out Lance’s usual seat to sit him in

“What? When?”

“I think I was the...”

“On the sixth... Coran speed tracked things, helped get her home. He... went with him to the funeral. It was a nice service... His siblings tried to bar him from attending. We recorded it for him. We tried to go with him, but Coran took him away again. I guess because you guys still weren’t safe or something”

Did his mother know about Mami? She’d joined the mission at a different stage to him. Meeting with them when they were closer to Zarkon’s territory

“H-how?”

“In her sleep. Lance was with her, he still wouldn’t tell us where they went. They’d slept over, and she passed away in her sleep”

He couldn’t process it at all. Mami was amazing. She always, always bounced back. Hunk hugged him

“I know, man. I know you two were tight. I hoped Lance had gone to be with you, but I guess that wasn’t the case”

“Do... do you know where he is?”

Hunk shook his head

“He apologised and said he had some things he needed to do. Didn’t you see Coran?”

“Lance didn’t reply to my messages so I got the first flight back I could get on”

Pidge nodded at him

“We asked Coran if we could talk to him, but Lance said he needed space. We didn’t know if you’d broken up or not because he was back and you weren’t. I didn’t think you wouldn’t know”

“I... had no idea...”

Did this mean it was over? That Lance no longer wanted to be with him? How could Mami have passed away nearly... how... he couldn’t process not knowing. He had to go back to Platt. Coran had to tell him what the fuck was going on. There hadn’t even been a message left at headquarters. He didn’t get it

“We tried to figure out how to contact you, but my messages wouldn’t go through to your phone. I guess you must have been busy... Matt and Rieva came back home, but they went back up to Platt. I know Coran couldn’t tell us if Lance had left again, but I get the feeling he’s gone back where he’d been hiding out. He probably doesn’t know you’re back”

Keith pushed his chair back, Hunk stepped back

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll go talk to Coran. I’ll make him tell me where Lance is”

Lance... Keith hoped Lance was waiting for him wherever he was. He hoped his boyfriend still believed he was coming back to him. He’d seen how hurt all the near misses Mami gave him left him. He couldn’t believed he’d missed this... He never should have gone to fucking Rome. He felt wrong about doing it before he left and worse after

“Can we come?”

“I don’t think I’ll be very good company. I can’t... Mami... it’s not fair”

Pidge shook her head at him

“I don’t care. I’m sick of not knowing what’s going on. Lance really needs you right now and Coran has to talk to us properly if you’re back, that has to mean it’s safe”

Driving back to Platt, Keith couldn’t stop thinking about Lance. He didn’t call ahead because he didn’t want Coran to fob him off, or even worse, tell him that Lance didn’t want to see him. His mind was firmly on Lance every single moment until the elevator doors were opening and he had his arms full of Coran

“Oh, my boy. You are a sight for sore eyes”

Yay. Good for him

“Where the fuck is Lance?”

Direct. To the point. His words summed up the only thing that mattered

“Ah. Come with me”

Led to Coran’s office, Keith leaned against the door cutting off Coran’s means of escape. Coran sighing as he moved the papers on his desk away from Pidge and Hunk

“Sorry, about that. Sensitive data...”

“Coran!”

Okay. He was being rude and bossy, Coran wincing at his name

“Lance is Cuba”

Cuba. Keith could have punched himself in the face for not picking it. Mami wanted to go Cuba again, Lance had been talking about going with her. It made so much sense. The sand and the beach. The feel of the hotel room. The different rooms in the background and voices. Why Mami looked so happy. She’d looked younger too. Like she was free of a great burden... If she was going to pass away anywhere, she did where she had so much of her family. But he just... he couldn’t get his head around it

“What happened?”

Coran sighed again, rubbing at his face as he did

“I think it’s better if we discuss that alone...”

“Fuck off, he’s our best friend. He’s basically our family and you wouldn’t tell us anything”

Pidge was right. The gremlin cranky as heck. Hunk bold enough to add

“We barely got to see him at the funeral. We’ve tried talking to him but he hasn’t answered us”

“Yeah. You said we couldn’t know until it was safer. Keith’s home now. Why can’t you tell us what’s happening?!”

“Lance asked I talk to Keith when he came. He asked me to keep you both safe. I sincerely hated not being able to tell you Lance’s whereabouts. I can tell you he is safe. I did talk to him this morning. He decided to remain in Cuba until Keith returned”

Pidge crossed her arms

“You could have let us see him after the funeral”

“He was in no fit state. He was recovering. I did ask him stay, but he insisted that he needed to be in Cuba”

“Wait. You said he was “recovering” did something happen?”

“A small bleed. The loss of Miriam hit him hard. Stress and exhaustion coupled with the loss of his mother. He tried to brave it alone, but the poor boy wanted to go to Rome to be with you. I did try to contact you through the Blades, but was informed that you were currently on a mission and not accepting messages or calls”

Keith could murder. He could murder all day. He could murder all the people who thought he didn’t need to know this. Thank fuck he’d never set foot in there. He’d officially resigned. He’d only ever been back thanks to Lotor. He was officially retired from their registry and now out of the loop, outside of his mother, completely. Krolia understood. Then decided during all the shit happening that she had to go develop feelings for Kolivan which he’d never seen coming until he thought about how happier his mother had been in Platt, and wondered if she’d held everything inside of herself so “he wouldn’t have a reason to hate her”. Adults were complicated. His mum and Kolivan triply so. Okay. Maybe he liked his mother a whole lot more to the point where he was accepting he loved her. But Kolivan... he didn’t want to think about them... that... “doing the do”.

Sendak was dead, which was a good thing. The trouble was that they had different statements. Lance had admitted to killing Sendak, and asked for leniency towards Lotor as he was only trying to protect him. Mountains of briefings were had. Secret squirrel meetings behind closed door. Lotor left then they had to go find him...

“I quit. Them... again. Permanently this time. They asked me to resume my duties in Rome and I declined. Petty wankers”

“Yes, well. I was told about what eventuated. I can’t say I’m too happy over the method”

That was a conversation to have with Lance first. Then with Pidge and Hunk, if Matt and Rieva hadn’t first. Which reminded him

“Where are Matt and Rieva?”

“They wished to see Lance. As I couldn’t send them to see him, as per Lance’s request. I sent them down there on “holiday””

Great. They could have him know

“Did you tell him?”

“No. In all honesty I believe he only stayed in Cuba because he wanted to wait in a safe place until your return. He has missed you very much. He did leave you a letter here”

“When can I see him?”

“I’m on relatively good terms with save. A wonderful vampire runs it as a safe haven for those down there...”

Pidge held her hand up, telling Coran to stop

“What the heck is “Save”?”

“South American Vampire Enterprises”. We all know how the world perceives some countries, they look past this, and honestly the media is terrible at painting them in a bad light when they’re filled with such wonderful people. I’ve put them in contact with Lance. He’d been very cooperative and we talk each morning. I actually know her...”

Not another sex story. Keith couldn’t do it

“That’s not what I asked about. I asked when I can see my boyfriend”

“I was getting there. We used special permission with Miriam and Lance. There is only so much aid they can provide, however, I did inform her that you would be joining Lance once your work was completed. It may take a few hours to get things settled and permission. That’s why I was not able to send Matt and Rieva privately. I barely managed to get their tickets and visas processed. Your Blade status did allow access into most countries, but I went ahead with processing what I could of your visa when Matt and Rieva returned. I was most sad that you hadn’t contacted me”

He didn’t think about it. He was too busy trying to talk to Lance, and ignoring the fact he’d accidentally made friends with the werewolves. They still thought Lance was a bad arse killing machine fighting for good and some other bullshit like that. They hadn’t seen his damn nightmares

“Coran, when I can see Lance?”

“Tonight. I’ll make plans right away, tonight is the earliest I can do. Unfortunately for you, Pidge and Hunk, I can only send Keith as you two are not VOLTRON hunters. However, you are free to wait here until they return, though that will be up to Lance and Keith. Rieva and Matt will return next Monday”

Hunk looked to Pidge, Pidge then looked to Keith and nodded. Keith felt bad that they couldn’t come, Pidge seemed to read his mind

“He really needs you more than he needs us right now. When you find him, you have to swear you’ll call us and let us know that he’s okay. And you have to tell him we miss him and want him to come home already”

“I... I’m not going to rush him”

“You don’t need to. We just want him to know where not mad and we miss him. If he gets hurt on your watch, we will kick your arse”

“I feel like you guys should be there as much as I should”

“We already got to see him since you did. He loves us, but he’s waiting for you”

Keith looked to Coran, Coran smiling at him. Keith didn’t particularly feel this was a time to be smiling. He was still worried about this bleed, on top of if Matt and Rieva had helped Lance or simply upset him

“I’ll get right onto it. Here, this is from Lance, perhaps you should read it before you see him? He took the loss of Miriam very hard. I’m sorry we couldn’t contact you sooner about it. We would have pulled you out of your mission if you’d been here. I’m sorry for your loss”

Being stuck waiting for permission, the trio went up to the bookshop. Keith had never sat down in the bookshop before. The three of them sitting near the front window, Lance’s letter in Keith’s hands. He wanted to know what Lance was thinking, but he also wanted to hear everything from his boyfriend himself. Was there some goodbye in the letter? Had Lance not thought he’d ever return? How many times had he checked his phone for news, only to find nothing. He wanted to call him, but with Lance not answering his calls... and only his calls it seemed. Matt and Rieva were there. That was good. They could have fucking contacted him though. They knew the mission was wrapping up. God. He hoped they’d told Lance he was okay.

“Keith?”

Keith blinked, realising he was crying. Teardrops on the envelope of the letter

“Sorry... I was thinking about what Lance must have been going through”

Hunk nodded at him

“He’s all we’ve been thinking about too. Do you want us to go so you can read the letter alone?”

“No... I... should I read it?”

“Lance wrote it for you. He must have had a lot to say”

“I want to hear that from him. What if... what if he thought it was over?”

“Even if he did, he still waited for you... Did... did you guys have a fight?”

A fight would have been easier. They could have made up if they had. He would have pestered Lance into talking to him...

“No. It just got harder and harder to call... I’m sorry, I want to explain things to him first. So much happened that I don’t know where to begin... I haven’t... talked to him since the end of December... when I got back, he didn’t answer any of my calls or messages”

“I’m sure he just needed time, Bud. I think you should read what Lance wrote”

Pidge nodded her agreement

“Even if it’s hard or something you don’t want to read, he still wrote whatever it was that he was feeling and thinking...”

Keith looked at the envelope again

“I think... I think I’m going to wait until I see him. He can tell me off then”

“Are you sure? He did write it for you”

“Yeah. I’m not going to believe it’s over until he tells me himself”

“We’ve got hours by the seems of things, what do you want to now you’re back?”

He wanted to get up and pace. Start yelling. Demand Coran hurry up. If he could have driven to Cuba he probably would have

“Maybe you can fill me in on everything else I’ve missed?”

Pidge snorted

“Let’s go get coffee then. You’ve like, missed nothing”

[tylerwritez]

Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay  which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪  like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone  talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

[horrorkingdom]

Quiet

I never saw the ocean till I was nineteen, and if I ever see it again it will be too goddamn soon. I was a child, coming out of the train, fresh from Amarillo, into San Diego and all her glory. The sight of it, all that water and the blind crushing power of the surf, filled me with dread. I’d seen water before, lakes, plenty big, but that was nothing like this. I don’t think I can describe what it was like that first time, and further more, I’m not sure I care too.

You can imagine the state I was in when a few weeks later they gave me a rifle and put me on a boat. When I stopped vomiting up everything that I ate, I decided that I might not kill myself after all. Not being able to see the land, and that ceaseless chaotic, rocking of the waves; I remember thinking that the war had to be a step up from this. Kids can be so fucking stupid.

I had such a giddy sense of glee when I saw the island, and it’s solid banks. They transferred us to a smaller boat in the middle of the night, just our undersized company with our rucksacks and rifles and not a word. We just took a ride right into it, just because they asked us to. The lieutenants herded us into our platoons on the decks and briefed us: the island had been lost. That was exactly how he put it. Somehow in the grand plan for the Pacific, this one tiny speck of earth, only recently discovered and unmapped, had gotten lost in the shuffle; a singularly perfect clerical error was all it took. It was extremely unlikely, he stressed, that the Japanese had gotten a hold of it, being so far east and south of their current borders, but a recent fly over reported what looked like an airfield in the central plateau.

We hit the beach in the middle of the night. I’d heard talk of landings before, and I’m not ashamed to tell, I was scared shitless. I don’t know quite what I expected, but it wasn’t we got, that thick, heavy silence. Behind the lapping of the waves and the wind in the trees, there was… nothing, no birds, no insects. Just deathly stillness.

Another hundred yards deeper into the eerie tranquility of the jungle, we stopped in a small clearing for the officers to reconvene, and it was obvious even they were spooked. I wasn’t a bright kid, but I knew enough to know that something was very wrong. It was like the whole island was dead. I remember I could only smell the sea, despite the red blossoms dangling from the trees.

It wasn’t an airfield, on top of the plateau. I can’t tell you what it was, because I’ve never seen anything like it, and I don’t think anyone ever will. If I tell you it was like the Aztec pyramids, but turned upside down, so that it sank like giant steps into the earth, you’d get the basic idea of it, but that somehow fails to capture the profound unearthliness of the structure.

There was no sign of individual pieces in the masonry, it appeared to have been carved out of a single immense block of black rock into a sharp and geometric shape. It was slick and perfectly smooth like obsidian, but it had no shine to it. It swallowed up even the moonlight, so that it was impossible to see how deep it went, or even focus your eyes on any one part of it, like it was one giant blind spot.

Our platoon drew the honor of investigating the lower levels, so we descended the stairs as the rest of the company surrounded the plateau. We took the stairs slowly and carefully after the first man to touch one of the right angle edges slit his hands down the bone.

At odd intervals down the steps, there were several small stone rooms; simple, empty, hollow cubes of stone with one opening, facing the pit in the center. There was no door that we could see, and with the opening being four feet of the ground, you’d have to put your hands on that black razor sharp edge to climb in into it.

We circled the descending floors, shining our lights into each of the small structures; They contained the same featureless black walls and nothing else. No dust, no leaves and other detritus from the jungle, the whole monument was immaculate, as if the place was just built; but that couldn’t be right. The whole structure felt incalculably old to me somehow, despite having no way to articulate the particular reasons.

Down near the bottom you could see that it simply sloped away into a darkness that swallowed the flashlights. We tossed first a button and then a shell casing down into the pit, and waited in the unearthly silence, but no sounds returned. No one spoke, we simply turned away from the yawning abyss and continued our sweep of the bottom rung and the last of the small structures.

The body in the back corner was almost invisible at first in the thick shadows, but the long spill of drying blood reflected the light of our flashlights, and it led right too him. He was coiled tight, arms around his thighs, and his face tucked into his knees. You could see badly he was cut, his clothes opened in ragged bloody tatters to reveal the pale skin and bone beneath it. He may have been dressed in a Japanese uniform, but it had been reduced to ribbons; I only had few seconds to look at him before we heard the first shots.

It echoed like the buzzing of faraway insects in the still jungle, swallowed almost instantly by the blanket of quiet. By the time we reached the top, the rest of the company had vanished. There were shell casings on the ground, and the hot smell of gunpowder in the air, but they were gone. The trees were deathly quiet around, there was not a trace of the nearly fifty other men that had come ashore with us. I could taste bile rising in my throat as panic threatened to cripple me; I felt crushed between the yawning pit and razor edges on one side and the dead jungle and the pounding ocean on the other. The silence rang in my ears and I struggled to still myself.

They were just inside the jungle, waiting for us. They came out from between the trees with all sound of a moth, simply sliding into our view.

I can try to tell you what I saw, the same as I did to the army doc on the hospital ship when I first woke up, and again half dozen other various officers over the following months, and you’ll have the same reaction they did; that I was a dumb country rube suffering from heatstroke and exposure and trauma. That I was crazy.

You know me. You know I’m not crazy. And I remember every second of that night with crystal clarity.

The thing, the first one that caught my eye, was wearing the skin of a Jap soldier, all mottled with the belly distended from rot. The head drooped, useless and obscene on the shoulders, tongue swollen and eyes cloudy. I could see where it was coming apart at the ill-defined joints, with ragged holes in the drying flesh. At the bottom of each of these raw pits was blackness, deeper than the stones of the buildings; a darkness that seemed to churn and froth like an angry cloud.

The thing moved suddenly, the head snapping and rolling backwards as it dashed towards us. I had my rifle clasped tightly in my hands, but it simply didn’t occur to me to fire. All I could do was gape silently at the macabre sight bearing down on us, and think absurdly of my mother’s marionettes.

A gun went off beside me, and I turned to see a dozen more of the horrors darting silently in on us. Among them were a few more rotting and swollen forms, but the majority wore the same uniforms as us, and were pale, fresh, and soaked in blood. More bullets zipped through the air, and I saw the grisly things hit again and again, but they never slowed. I caught a glimpse of the First Sergeant’s vacant glassy eyes as his head dangled limp from his shoulders; I saw the great ragged wound in his back and the shuddering darkness that inhabited his corpse when he leapt just past me without a sound, landing like a graceful predator onto the soldier beside me. The others around me began to drop in a silent dance of kinetic energy and blurred motion

I was on the track team in high school, and it could have got me to college. I didn’t need an invitation. I just ran. I ran blind through jungle, caroming of tree trunks; I ran until I saw the ocean, and it struck a new ringing note of terror in me. I don’t remember actually deciding to swim, but when I turned back to the tree line, I saw one of the white and bloody things emerge, running on all fours, the hands splayed wide and the back contorted and cracked in an impossible angle.

To this day, the mere thought of the ocean still brings on a cold sweat, but that night I let it embrace me, let the tide drag me out to sea, if only to bring momentary relief from the impossible monolith and terrors on the island. The days I spent drifting off shore and blistering in the sun were a welcome release from the silent island.

I never saw the war. They sent me home as soon as I recovered.

It was comforting in a way, when I thought no one believed me. It allowed me to believe that it never happened, that it was a product of my mind. But as I got older, I’ve found that it is pointless to lie to anyone, especially yourself. I know what I saw.

Someone else believed me too. I’ve seen maps of where they tested the hydrogen bombs in the South Pacific.

—

Credited to Josef K. (aka entropyblues).

[sirfleurs]

i was sixteen years old when my hand was blue.

The grayscale pitch

Preface      

Life is not easy when you are high and alone watching television or pulling an all-nighter listening to Jimi Hendrix. The brain becomes dull. Overstimulated by genius. You stop thinking and overthink at the same time. I guess that’s what some people call daydreaming. All your bad thoughts get loose and all your inhibitions disappear. I figure this is right before the moment you are most likely to kill yourself. I’ll give it an hour before my Manic-Depression shows its ugly face. As I haven’t killed myself yet in an age of 23 I think I’ve done pretty well. I was sitting in my room in some Woodstock apartment writing on my first ever soon to be book. I had decided to call it ‘The Pitch’. It would be about some witty guy who had a great idea and he would be trying to sell his ‘pitch’ to everyone who’d listen. I had thought the rest of the story through. To be honest I didn’t know more than that. As I was about to sit down I had a beer, smoked a cig and 5 minutes beforehand I had masturbated to a busty forest nymph. Believe me was I tired.

A week ago I was checked-in at Fitzroy Hostel in New York City. It had been insane. My supposedly friends and I were drinking cheap wine in our room during this pandemic across the country. Geez after two bottles of wine I somehow managed to pay for- and eat two caps of MDMA and it blew my mind. I sat on the floor to cool my ass but everything began to spin and it hit me hard like a jolt. Andrew said “hey dude, maybe you should go to the bathroom and stick two fingers in your throat you don’t look too good”. But he was just too late. I burst like a water balloon, vomiting on the floor of Duncans room. Duncan was this nice guy that played XBOX and drank occasionally. Geez was I sorry. I locked myself in the bathroom to get the caps out. I was trying to vomit and I began to feel heated. The MDMA had already kicked in and it was too late to reverse it. I would have to wait this one out. Everything started to feel nice all around the body. My eyes became big as small plates and my teeth began to clench. I got an strange urge to stick my hand in the toilet to cool my body. Something I am not very proud of. On the small shelf I found a shampoo that I emptied in the toilet too just for the hell of it. Minutes later people would lock the door up with a coin and find me covered in shampoo. The helped me in the shower and I went to bed shortly after. Hours later I woke up. Two guys invited me for a joint. Something I couldn’t decline. It was only the second time I had ever tried drugs. While we smoked this cat, Alex told me “you know this only happened because you drank too much. You can never be too careful with mixing alcohol and MD. It doesn’t help that you hadn’t eaten anything either.” “Geez, I was not in control at all. I’d better stick to weed and drinking. That’s something I know”. Always do drugs with very good pals of yours.

So I went to the street and couldn’t make any money. I was to make something one way or the other. Which isn’t always easy when you don’t know what profession you want to be in. All I knew was that I didn’t need any tiresome busy work in my life. I like to feel needed but not so much that I can’t laugh and have breaks during the day. Life is life you know. But I would dance down the street like drums banging through the air. Long time ago I would have taken every job offered to me now I’m not so sure. I went to a fruit parlor in the New Habor Market in near Manhatten in princess St. I asked the first guy :” how much are these avocados.” “two fifty for three piece”. Fruit in the markets are much cheaper than everywhere else and the life is strong on the street which I thought couldn’t be bad. Everyone just running back and forth doing their bussinnes as usual. The markets was one of the places that hadn’t closed due to the pandemic. Nice, I thought to myself. I handed the guy three dollars and told him to keep the rest. “ hey man, how you get a job here standing here selling fruit, I’d really like to know”. “ah young man, I could take a look at your resume if you’d like”. Problem was I didn’t have much to offer him, so I stalled him trying to promote myself in person. I can be a very persuasive guy sometimes. When I’m in the right mood and I felt it crippling in my fingers my mood was good for this situation. “Hey man, I don’t exactly have a written resume. But I’ll tell you everything you’ll need to know. Im good at shouting and a quick learner give me a shot and ill prove to you, you didn’t waste your time”. I sounded like a sucker. But I couldn’t eat my words. The guy didn’t seem interested. I said “I promise give me a shot and I will not blow it.” He looked me in the eye and we stood for a few seconds staring at each other. “come down tomorrow at 6 sharp I’ll see what you can do. You won’t be paid for your three first shifts and from thereon you’ll be paid commission on how much you sell”. Sounded good to me so I nodded “you betcha” I said with a coy smile I sounded like a dork geez. Anyhow that’s how I got my first job. It went fairly well. I continued down the street. I still had something else to do before my first shift. Let me stand next to your fire I thought to myself. I was excited as hell. Down the road I saw a green balloon it was helium filled balloons. A clown was giving them out to kids. Everything was nice the weather was good and you could hear the wind sweep from central park. I needed to buy some weed for the next time coming. So I got up my phone and rang my friend Alex who had a connection. “O boyy I got a job fix me up with some of that green”. I met him outside the hostel and bought a quarter ounce for 50 dollars which is a fine price for nugs like these. Then I went home and lit a blunt. Just a small one while I sat at my outside porch. We had a giant tree and a lot of ungroomed weeds in our garden. We also had a cat I personally named Pysser in the name of my favourite old person who recently died. He was a sergent Knud Romer was his name. He once wrote an article about me when I was fifteen going to summer camp for young boys with no other places to go for their vacation. God was I sad to see him go. When I was done with the blunt I went up to my room and opened my book. It was called Pimp and the author went by the moniker Iceberg Slim. What kind of badass shit was that. It was kind of interesting the way he proclaimed the pimp life. And he was a real gangster. His bottom whore at the end of her mileage. Meaning the whore who kept every other whore in his house in line. When she goes everything always goes to hell for a pimp. He conend her. He made a whole setup with actors to con her into thinking she killed a rich motherfucker. She would be in the hotel room and this guy would collapse on her. Slim would come up to the room and call a doctor and get the guy collected. Slim conned her into thinking he bribed the police. That way his bottom whore was good to go for more tricks. That’s some cold shit. My thought whirled reading about the cocaine snorting and his nose hurting feelings of something scraping at the roof of his brain made me dizzy. I closed the book and stared at the ceiling. Dreaming. Aw man what do I do now. My head bounced like a bass line I felt slick. Breathing heavily but still relaxed. I went down for a cig to clear my thoughts. Sitting there I couldn’t stop looking at all the animals we had in this household. Cat and two dogs just lying freely whenever wherever.

The next morning I came back 6 sharp. A long 10 hours shift. My legs were aching and my head spiining. I wasn’t used to long as shifts. I was only used to lying around doing nothing chilling with friends. But it would come to me In time oso I ekpt coming there shouting like the others. Loud and confident keeping my back steady trying to pull in costumers in. At the end of each shift you would get paid a percentage of what you’ve sold. The first day I sold I couple of vegetables to this old lady who though I was cute and some couples wanting watermelon smoothies. It didn’t go so well. And I sure as hell didn’t want those pity purchases from old ladies. I made two fifty. It really wasn’t much. But at least I was paid the first day. Something I wasn’t expecting. I went to home sat on the couch with the other living there. We sat there chilling drinking beer and playing chess. And some girl that was visiting was playing skyrim.

Dreamers day

I remember when I was a small kid. I would look at the ocean and dream of being a bird. I would be on the moon. I was a gay kid, really. So much that my mother and sister thought I was actually gay. I remember the beach of Turkey. The warm ocean on my limbs under the moonlight. The salt burning in your eyes. Those were the days of happiness and good rest. Father would show us to surf the water on our stomachs whenever a wave came. Also the days of Levanto were nice. Father and I would hike the mountains at daybreak. We would struggle to find a parking spot and Father would cuss. Sister and I would get mojitos and look at the natives. The parties were everywhere. We would bathe in the clear water by the cliff. I remember many young adults would jump in. Everyone wearing speedos except one skinny langy kid. A couple kissing. The guy would get a boner and the girl would cover his little man with her belly. They kissed passionately. People would jump in from 5 meters and even more. Chances were one day they wouldn’t jump far enough into the water and they would hit the sharp rocks at the cliffs bottom. I picked small black clams from the rock and lurked it open. Levanto was a trip through forests cussing. We were in Italy. Driving a big bad car. I would lie across the extra three seats in the behind. I would push my bare feet against the cold glass of the window. I would see the damp print of my feet and the water drops on the other side of the window. I was glad I was inside the warmth of the car. My sisters friend was along. I liked her. She must have been sisters best friend. Not anymore.. I would lie in the bed reading. I was afraid of small gold fish. We would see the colosseum. I would ask “is it real”. Father would laugh for 10 years. I am now here in bed. On the other side of the world. Mother was different. We would be inside. I would care about her. She would be weaker. Depressed. I would be worried sick. I am still worried. But I am also smarter. She can care for herself. She stopped smoking now for the seventeenth time. She says one day she will make it. I hope it for her sake. I am not sure. The price of cigarettes went up. I would watch television. I would come out and talk to her she would listen and I would cry. This pretty much sums up our relationship. I still love her though. I was a dreamer. My English teacher told my sister I lived on the moon. That was fine with me. Not anymore. I want to be in this world now. I want to do good.

The days when we were friends we would go around your backyard make silly films. Scream like small girls. But we were small boys. Guess there is not that big of a difference. We would draw silly faces in class. We would play on the smartboard. We didn’t care about anything but fun. We would be older and try to learn music. Try to do good in school. People break apart and new people find each other. Right now I don’t find anyone. I am alone with the people I live with. The are polite and we drink together. But we are not friends. Not yet but we could be., I think things can happen. “Don’t think twice it’s alright”. You can get everything down the first time you try. You see poetry and stories are written in the haze in the bottom of your mind. You have to write it now not think too much. Know what you want to write and hurry up. Times against you. You have to run or it will be dull or you will be drowsy. Don’t let anything walk up behind your back. Keep your ears and eyes open for everything. This is not the time for storytelling. Open your eyes open your ears. You didn’t see the best minds of your generation starving hysterical naked.

Three small kittens

The day came after the weekend to go back to work at the fruit parlor., The guy seemed to be very contend with my abilities. I would make at least ten dollars for my self each shift. And I would have just enough for food for the day. Not that it was enough. I still had rent to cover. So I seeked my boss for help asking “how do you make a living out of this. Whats the catch.” He responded “the catch is catch 22 anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn’t really crazy”. “would you have to be crazy to want to be in combat?” he nodded “and it works the other way around too”. I pondered it over “you would have to be rationel to want to come out of combat?” “exactly”. It didn’t make any sense to me. What did that have to do with anything. After the shift my chef handed my a fairly small red book with the title Catch-22. I had only made eight dollars this day. It felt lousy. At least I was able to take as much leftover I wanted. That would cover my hunger, but the money wouldn’t cover my rent. Soon I would run out of money and I had no idea as to what to do. I came home and fell down the stinking madras on the floor of my room. I opened the first page of the book he had handed to me. Whatever it was about I was kind of excited to dick in. Every two hours I would go down for a cig and occasionally a glass of water. Didn’t eat anything except avocados. They sustain you for a long time and are delicious with salt. Just be careful some of the avocados are bad inside and will give you diarrhea. It isn’t very comfortable to go to the bathroom every ten minutes during a shift with your boss around. Next I had collected 330 dollars earning eleven dollars for myself. Which is a personal record of mine. I knew I could do better. Catch 22 was a real witty book I didn’t know what I had to learn from it. Each day I would come back to work my boss wouldn’t mention the book. He would just keep yelling for ten 12 hours straight like a muezzin standing on the top of the tower calling to prayer. He was insane. During the day his temple would pulsate like an angry cat who had catched syphilis. Sometimes his lips would be blue and he would have to sit down. Whenever that occurred shortly after he would pull up a small orange container from his pocket and down some pills. He must have had a heart disease or something. I wouldn’t get involved though. He never brought it up himself. So I figured he must have had a good reason to keep low profile. It wasn’t my fight to fight. Four times a day I would go further away with some of the other youngsters trying to make it as a fruit parlor. I was doing the worst but who really cares. It was no competition. I was just trying to make a living.

[katedrakeohd]

The Royal Honor 👑

Chapter Four

A repost for @ritachacha 😊

A ‘The Royal Heir’ Fanfiction

________________________

All According to Plan

Kate leaned against the closed bedroom door, her eyes burning and sore from wiping at her tears. On the other side of the door she hears Drake mumble something and then the slam of the door as he leaves. In the silence that followed she could hear the echoes of their argument going through her head. She felt a mixture of anger and remorse for all the hurtful things she had said to him. He had bared an intimate and secret part of his life to her and she had tarnished it by throwing it back in his face.

Sliding down the door she crumples to the floor. What the hell just happened? How could Drake do this to me? We just talked last night about having a baby, and it all felt perfect and wonderful. He knew damn well that Nicholas was going to come here and ask us for his heir. He knew all of this was going to happen and he didn't bother to warn me. Because it was all part of their stupid plan.

“That Son of a Bitch. How could he do this to me? To us?” she cried out loud to the empty room.

Grabbing handfuls of her hair she rests her forehead on her knees. I need a way out of this situation. I need to convince Drake this is a bad idea. But wait he's already jumped into the shark tank with his pockets full of chum. What an idiot I've been not to see this coming. His whole life he's sacrificed his own happiness for Nicholas. Why would I expect things to change after we got married? Even at Valtoria we're still under his thumb. Any semblance of a normal life or freedom is all an illusion.

Kate can feel the grit of sand in her hair, it collects under her fingernails as she scratches her scalp. After a week on this damn island there was no escaping the sand. Thank God this was the last night here. Sitting up she wipes the tears off her neck and chest, feels the gritty sand in her bikini top. With a sigh she gets up off the floor and takes off her clothes. Walking over to the full length mirror she looks for more sand. Pulling her hair off to the side she inspects her naked body.

Smoothing her hand over her breast she lifts it and brushes away the grains that had been trapped underneath. She looks down at her smooth, flat belly. Biting her lip she fights back more tears. Smoothing both hands across from hip to hip, she tries to imagine her belly swollen with a baby inside of it. She might already be pregnant. Her last period had been the week before the wedding, nearly a month ago. With Drake's sexual appetite it was quite probable that something has already taken root. She should be happy at the idea that the product of their love could already be blossoming. But the thought of Nicholas announcing to the world that their child would be his successor made her feel ill. She was seriously regretting ever coming to Cordonia in the first place.

As she tried to brush off the sandy grit from her skin she became increasingly frustrated. She wanted to rid herself of this cursed place for good. This island, Cordonia, stupid Two-faced Nicholas, god damned lying Drake, everything. As she swipes at the grit under her armpit, the stones of her wedding ring scrape at the underside of her arm, leaving a red mark. Ahh! Motherfuck that hurt.

She tugs at her rings angrily trying to get them off, but only one will move. Drake's engagement ring. Holding it in her shaking palm, she considers throwing it across the room but she can't. Clenching the ring in her fist she sucks in a deep breath and screams, long and loud, until her throat and lungs burn from the effort. With tears streaming down her face, her body shaking, Kate walks over to the bedside table and slams the ring down under her palm. Feeling jagged and torn on the inside from Drake's betrayal, she looks around the bedroom suite.

This was supposed to be our honeymoon damn it. Up until today it had been perfect.

Her skin felt raw and sore as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. The salt and the sand, she needed to wash all of it away and pull herself back together. Leaving her engagement ring on the nightstand she goes to the bathroom to take a shower.

The hot sun beats down on Drake's shoulders and back as he walks along the beach. His footprints in the cool wet sand are rinsed and then flushed away by the bubbling surf. He and Kate had walked many kilometers of this beach during their week together. They had laughed and played in the shallows, filled their pockets with pretty pebbles or seashells, and swam naked in the waves. Drake had been truly happy, and so had Kate. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes. The beauty of her smile made him want to cry.

Seeing her so angry at him today had been heartbreaking. He knew he was wrong to go behind her back and make this deal with Nicholas. He had been torn between helping his friend and the commitment he had just made to his wife. They pledged to be honest about everything, no matter how much the truth might hurt. But he also knew if he had brought up this royal heir business before the honeymoon, her answer would still have been a resounding no. So he was fucked either way.

Turning back in the direction of the villa, he stops walking as a clump of seaweed washes up against his foot. When he angrily kicks it away, his toe catches on something rough in the sand. Sidestepping and hopping out of the surf he lifts up his foot to check for damage. There aren't any marks on his skin, but the waves tumble the object up onto the beach. It’s half of an oyster shell. Picking it up, he intends to throw it back in the ocean but then hesitates and puts it into his pocket instead. He remembers how Kate liked to pick up shells during their walks. The oyster shells were her favorite. At first he couldn't understand why. To him they were rough and ugly, and sharp. He had stepped on many of them when he'd been distracted by Kate.

Her smile, her laugh, the way she looks at me, means I'm almost always distracted by Kate

He thought back to the second day of their trip. They had been walking along the beach and Kate had picked up an oyster shell.

They remind me of you, she'd said.

They're ugly and rough Kate, hardly a compliment.

That just made her laugh, Oysters are rough around the edges, almost like they have a stony armor. But if you can crack one open there can be treasure inside.

You mean like pearls?, he'd said.

Something tasty, or something precious. But always something special.

Drake had blushed at her comparison, mostly at him being something tasty.

When she had turned the shells over and shown him the beautiful sheen of the mother of pearl on the inside, he had understood how every oyster held something special.

She had seen something special in him despite the walls of stone he'd tried to throw up around his heart. To her he was like an oyster forming pearly layers around a grain of sand and making something beautiful to give to her.

On every beach walk after that day, he had tried to find her the prettiest shells, still not convinced that ugly oysters should be her favorite. She would just smile and shake her head, so he had given up on shells and started collecting rocks instead. When the tide went out they'd sit on the cool, damp sand and see how far they could toss them, counting the waves as a scale. Drake always won, but Kate didn't mind. She spent the time comparing the oyster shells she’d found for the one she liked best. But she never kept them, preferring to let the ocean have its treasures back.

Walking back to the villa, Drake pulls the shell out of his pocket. It's still sandy, so he bends down to rinse it in the water. It was their last full day on the island and he wanted Kate to have one shell to bring back home with her. A souvenir, and a peace offering. To prove that the trip had had some moments that were special, before their fight had tarnished things.

Kate steps out of the steamy bathroom after her shower. Her skin was pink from the hot water and from the scrubbing effort to remove every last grain of sand. She didn't want to use the fluffy towels that Nicholas had provided, and instead walked over to the window to air dry. Opening it and the curtains wide, she enjoyed how the warm sunshine bathed her skin all over again, and how the fresh air rinsed her clean. Off in the far distance she can see a lone figure walking along the beach. She recognizes Drake right away by his bright blue shorts. He had chosen them because they reminded him of Captain America. She had smiled because it reminded her how much he was still just a little kid at heart, even if he was almost 30. Running her hand over her bare belly again, she thought about what a great Dad Drake would be. She wanted to start a family with him so badly, but not in the public way that their first child being heir to the throne would constantly overshadow things. She, Drake and Nicholas had to talk this over again. Without the interruption they'd had this morning.

But for now she was alone, and she intended to enjoy it. Closing her eyes she basked in the warm sunshine as her hands roamed her body. The risk of being so exposed, coupled with the sensation of her smooth hands on her fresh clean skin just added to the erotic thrill. The fresh air teased at her skin as her body started to dry. Her wet hair dripping onto her chest accentuated the cooling effect.

Her areolas puckered as her nipples hardened. Pinching and pulling one nipple roughly between her fingers she feels the spark set off fireworks down below. Biting her lip, she reaches down between her legs where she knows she's still warm and damp from her shower.

It had been a while since she'd had intimate time like this to herself. During the social season her mornings had been interrupted by Maxwell. But her evenings had been all about her thoughts of Drake while she'd laid alone in her bed. Back then her thoughts had all been fantasies. But now she knew how wonderful it felt for him to touch her intimately with his hands and his mouth. Kate gasps as the thrill of remembering enhanced her desire, and the movement of her fingers stimulated her clit. She couldn't do this standing up anymore as the need to spread her legs became more urgent.

The crazy thought of placing her foot up on the windowsill crosses her mind, but then she pushes it away because standing on one foot would make her unstable and apt to fall over. With giddy excitement she runs over to the bed. Throwing off the blanket she leaves just the crisp white top sheet behind. Smoothing her hands over the cool surface, she relishes the rare moment to have such a big bed to herself. She slinks her naked body across the mattress like a cat, arching her back, and then sliding along on her belly. Giggling, she rolls over and lays spread eagle in the middle of the bed. Her hair falls over her face, and she combs it out across the pillow with her fingers. The breeze from the open window finds her again, stimulating her already aroused nerve endings as it tickled her skin.

Glancing toward the door she wondered how much time she would have before Drake returned. As exciting as it would be to get caught, she wasn't interested in giving him a free show and making him horny. This was her private naked time, not his. Bringing her knees up she slid her hand back down between her legs.

Drake was hot, sandy and thirsty by the time he returned to the villa to change for dinner. He had entertained the thought of stripping down and taking a dip in the ocean to cool off, but then remembered how the paparazzi had found them all on the beach this morning. For all he knew they were watching him right now. Raking his hands back through his windblown hair in an attempt to tame it, he takes one last look around before turning the doorknob and entering the villa. He's immediately struck by the refreshing cool air conditioning and he sighs with relief. After brushing his feet off on the doormat, he closes the door. The house felt empty in the silence. As he walked across the cool floor to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, he wondered if Kate had gone out. After opening his water and taking a drink, he looked around the space again. Kate's sandals were still by the couch where she had left them, and her phone was still on the coffee table. Turning his head he looks down the hall to the bedroom and sees that the door was closed. Was she still in there? Taking a nap? Was she still mad at him? After drinking down the rest of his bottled water, he decides to investigate. He needed to shower and change his clothes anyway. Tiptoeing to the bedroom he listens at the door. He couldn't hear anything. He knocks quietly and then opens the door to peek inside.

Kate is naked in the bed, half covered by the sheet. She's laying on her side facing away from him, seemingly asleep. Drake can't help but stare at her as he quietly steps into the room. She looked all tousled and spent as if she'd just been ravaged by an invisible lover. The white sheet was twisted around her, and one of her beautiful tanned legs was exposed. He wanted so badly to touch her, to pull back the sheet some more and drink in the sight of her nakedness. He had the sudden desire to hold her in his arms.

Drake wanted to mold himself to her in the way he knew her soft body fit so perfectly with his. But her spiteful words and the hurt in her eyes suddenly came back to him, and he knew it was too soon. His ardor cooled further as he noticed the glint of gold on the nightstand. Was she still mad at him? Was this a message?

Walking over to the bed he pulls the shell out of his pocket. He swaps the ring for the seashell on the nightstand. Looking down at her still form for a moment he decides to leave her alone. She had said that she wasn't interested in going to dinner with him and Nicholas, and he was hungry and missed his friends. Still holding her ring in his hand he goes to his suitcase to pick out something to wear. He slips the ring into one of the small pockets on the outside of his suitcase. He'd give it back to her later. If she still wanted it.

Taking off his shorts and underwear he tosses them over with her discarded clothes. I guess that's the only thing of mine that's going to be touching anything of hers tonight.

As Drake showered and then dressed, Kate laid quietly in the bed with her eyes closed. She wondered whether Drake would say something or try to wake her, or if he'd kiss her goodbye before he left. When she heard the bedroom door close, and then the muffled sound of the villa's door closing, she stopped wondering and started to cry.

Drake's feet floundered and swam across the sand as he walked toward the rendezvous point. He was wearing sandals and he hated them. The hot sand just flicked off the flat soles like he was trying to paddle a canoe. Taking a hard left, he headed for the ocean and the wet packed sand along the shoreline. The sandals had been Kate's idea to add some more tourist chic to his new honeymoon wardrobe. She had taken one look at his scuffed up brown shoes and then dragged him into the shoe store. He had grumbled that nobody other than her needed to see his bare toes or feet, and besides they were going to a private island.

You can't go barefoot over the entire island Drake, and I'd hate to smell the state of your feet if you chose to plod along in your old shoes in the hot sand for a week.

You sound like Olivia when you nitpick me like that.

Good, I'm glad some of her taste for harsh criticism has rubbed off on me. You're a grown man Drake, and I'm not going to sugarcoat the truth when you really need to hear it.

Drake had been at a loss to refute her logic, but at least she had let him pick out his own sandals, as much as he'd hated the concept of wearing open toed shoes in a sandy environment in the first place. He had chosen the most rugged and sporty looking pair he could find. She had chosen a flimsy cute pair of flipper things that he couldn't believe could possibly be comfortable. She had just shrugged and told him to appreciate his ‘mandals' because her footwear would totally show off how cute her toes were, and how nice her nail polish looked. He thought of pointing out that after a week in the abrasive sand that there wouldn't be much point in nail polish, but had held his tongue because she had no doubt paid someone for a pedicure and lacquer.

As he made his way around the edge of the cove he spotted his friends standing on an outdoor wooden deck shaded by a pergola. A long rustic table was set for dinner, and beyond it a small comfortable seating area was clustered around a stone firepit. The whole area looked warm and welcoming with sparkling string lighting and hanging baskets of tropical flowers. Drake felt a pang of sadness that Kate would be missing out on this evening of fellowship, considering their friends had come so far to spend the day with them. Hana and Maxwell wave and smile at him as he approaches.

“Hey! There's the delightful Duke we all adore. Where's Kate?” Maxwell says, as he waits for Drake to bang the sand out of his sandals before stepping up onto the deck.

Drake gratefully accepts the cold beer that Nicholas offers him out of the ice chest packed with refreshments.

“She..uh. Kate's had a little too much sun today and decided to take a nap. She sends her apologies.” Drake says, with a shuffle of his feet as he busies himself with opening up his beer to hide his lie.

Hana frowns with disappointment, “That's too bad. I hope she's able to join us later. It would be a shame to spend the rest of the evening without her.”

Drake nods, taking a drink of his beer. He catches Nicholas’ look of concern but then quickly looks away. “So Maxwell, tell me all about your zipline adventure today.”

Maxwell bubbles with excitement at the opportunity to recount their story, “Oh My Gosh Drake it was totally awesome, you should have been there!”

He proceeds to act out the whole afternoon including impersonations of Hana and Nicholas as they screamed and flew along the cable from point to point. Hana couldn't help but laugh at his spot on reenactment of the harrowing and crazy experience.

“At the end of it we all joined hands and jumped off the last cliff into the ocean.” Maxwell says, finally out of breath from acting out and experiencing the whole thing over again. He goes to the ice chest to get himself a beer to calm himself down.

“I must say after such an intense day I'm starving. Come on Max let's go check out the appetizer buffet.” Hana says, grabbing him by the arm and leading him away.

Nicholas sidles up to Drake, seeing how tense and distracted he looked.

“Is everything okay Drake? It's not like you and Kate to be apart like this.”

Avoiding eye contact, Drake looks out toward the sinking sun over the ocean. “Yes Nicholas, everything's fine.”

Nicholas turns to look out over the ocean as well. He leans against a post and folds his arms across his chest. “You know Drake after all these years you can't hide from me. I know when you're lying.”

Turning his head briefly to look at the profile of his longtime friend and then turning back to watch the sunset, Drake shrugs and finishes his beer. “So, what's it to you?”

Nicholas frowns, “What's it to me? It's everything to me if you and Kate aren't getting along Drake. I've put my future in your hands.”

Drake looks at him, his frown deepening to a scowl. “Your future? You mean Cordonia’s future right? Well what about mine and Kate's future huh? You've put a lot of pressure on our shoulders with this heir request of yours. Kate's pissed.”

Nicholas looks down, “I'm sorry Drake. But I love you both so much and there's nobody else I can trust with this responsibility.”

Drake scoffs at his response. “Oh come on Nicholas. You're a man. You can sire your own goddamn heir for Christ's sake. You're the fucking King of Cordonia. Leave the stuffy traditions and precedents behind and be the King you want to be.”

Nicholas sighs, “If only it were that easy Drake. I may be at the top of the food chain but I need the support of everyone below me in order to be a successful ruler. My Father's reign of tyranny may be over, but I'm still the product of it. I want this cursed family line to end with me, and even if it takes the next twenty years to erase the mark Constantine has left on this country I will leave it a better place for everyone.”

“Ok now you're making sense. You need to explain this to Kate, because when I tried to she didn't want to believe me.”

“I believed you Drake, but I just needed to hear it from him to really understand.” Kate answers quietly, causing them both to look over to her with surprise.

“Kate? Holy shit, how long have you been standing there? I mean..”

Drake walks over to her and pulls her in for a kiss on the cheek, “I'm so glad you could make it.”

Nicholas offers Kate a small smile, but then looks down at his feet when she doesn't immediately return it.

Kate looks from Drake to Nicholas, “If we're going to make this three way partnership work, because that's how I see this arrangement between us, we need clarity, trust and a commitment that I and my child are going to be safe and protected.”

Nicholas nods, “You have my word.”

“We need to sit down and discuss this further, informally and formally with legal counsel present.” Kate folds her arms and looks at them both sternly.

“Are we clear?”

Drake nods, swallowing hard. “Crystal clear.”

Nicholas nods again, his expression serious.

Kate sighs with relief, dispelling the heavy atmosphere with a smile and slipping her hand into Drake's “Ok good, now let's eat because this future Momma is starving.”

[fly-pow-bye]

What’s Airing On Cartoon Network? (June 2019)

The Futon Critic updated with the schedule for June, with new episodes of The Amazing World of Gumball, Ben 10 2016, Craig of the Creek, DC Super Hero Girls, OK K.O.! Let’s Be Heroes, PPG 2016, Summer Camp Island, Teen Titans Go!, and Victor and Valentino. Also...Ninjago? Listed after the break.

The Amazing World of Gumball:

We know that Gumball is ending, and there’s no real confirmation as of yet if The Inquisition is the grand finale. There are signs pointing to yes, but I don’t want to make any assumptions. In any case, new episodes of Gumball will air every Monday starting at 7 PM.

June 3rd:

The Web - Gumball and Darwin give Nicole a crash course in computers.

June 10th:

The Mess - Gumball and Darwin baby-sit, then baby-lose, Penny's little sister.

The Heart - Mr. Robinson tries and repeatedly fails to win back Gumball and Darwin's friendship.

June 17th:

The Revolt - Darwin feels bad for the household objects in Elmore and encourages them to rise up.

The Decisions - Darwin has finally had enough of Gumball's advice and seeks a new mentor.

June 24th:

The BFFS - When Gumball's old BFF turns up, Darwin gets jealous.

The Inquisition - School Superintendent Evil is coming to Elmore Junior High to stamp out all cartoonish conduct!

Ben 10 2016:

Already did an article on these, but I might as well put them here for good measure. Saturdays at 12 PM, starting on the 22nd, Ben 10 goes on a World Tour.

June 22nd:

Moor Fogg - Team Tennyson goes international in the Omni-Copter and the first stop is for a hike in the Scottish Highlands, but the weather isn't just bad, it's foggy, and that means one thing and one thing only: the return of The Fogg!

King of the Castle - Ben, Gwen, and Grandpa Max next travel to Castle Bishopbrook to visit a distant relative, but when Ben encounters a "ghost" at the haunted home, it turns out to actually be his new rival, Kevin 11, throwing even more aliens his way.

June 29th:

Speechless on the Seine - While in Paris, France, Ben catches Zombozo robbing the Louvre, but when Zombozo hypnotizes Ben to remain speechless, Ben must navigate a foreign land like a mime in order to stop the criminal clown and his traveling circus.

Don't Touch - Team Tennyson checks out a Samurai Museum in Tokyo, where a dangerous Samurai sword is stolen from the exhibit, Ben must take on its thief, the new Big Bad in town, the Forever Knight.

Craig of the Creek:

9 AM on Saturdays, starting on the 22nd.

June 22nd:

The Other Side - Craig, Kelsey and JP must journey past the Overpass into uncharted territory, the Other Side of the Creek.

June 29th:

Summer Wish - When Craig decides to keep a lightning bug in a jar, he disrupts the delicate balance of Summer.

DC Super Hero Girls:

4 PM on Sundays, just for the first two weeks.

June 2nd:

#SheMightBeGiant - Karen Beecher is always getting picked on at school, but when the local mall is attacked by a monstrous supervillain called Giganta, she discovers that tiny Bumblebee might be the only one small enough to save the day.

June 9th:

#FightAtTheMuseum - Supergirl always relies on her strength, but she'll need more than brawn to stop brainy Catwoman from stealing valuable gems from the local science museum.

NINJAGO: Masters of Spinjitzu:

A LEGO-related series is getting new episodes in June, but it’s not that one. Ninjago is still going. Two episodes will air every Saturday at 12:30 PM.

June 22nd:

Wasted True Potential - In the wake of the previous season's victory, the ninja have gone soft and Master Wu must remind them of who they truly are.

Questing For Quests - Realizing they have gone soft, the ninja search for a quest to reignite their Spinjitzu training. Unfortunately, NINJAGO City is enjoying a period of rare tranquility.

June 29th:

A Rocky Start - The ninja have found their quest! Now they just have to get there, which involves a road trip through the Desert of Doom, a region supposedly inhabited by a giant scarab beetle.

The Belly of the Beast - To repair the Land-Bounty, the ninja must retrieve a critical engine component that has been swallowed by a giant scarab beetle.

OK K.O.! Let’s Be Heroes:

Two episodes right next to each other, every Sunday starting at 4:30 PM, with the exception of the 30th, which will have three episodes!

June 2nd:

Sidekick Scouts - KO gets more than he bargained for when he gets a sidekick.

Whacky Jaxxyz - When the hot new toy trend of Whacky Jaxxyz comes to Lakewood, KO says goodbye to his POW Cards.

June 9th:

Project Ray Way - When Raymond starts his own fashion line, Rad and Drupe decide to make something even better.

I Am Jethro - When a different kind of Jethro rolls off the assembly line, the plaza is in for some surprises.

June 16th:

GarQuest - Gar and KO team up for a secret mission.

Gar Trains Punching Judy - With a big fight coming up, Punching Judy turns to KO and Gar to help her prepare.

June 23rd:

Beach Episode - Surf's up on a wacky beach adventure when our heroes are challenged to the ultimate beach battle.

OK A.U.! - An evil warlock takes our heroes to a strange alternate universe.

June 30th:

KO's Health Week - KO spends a week dispensing healthy tips to everyone in the plaza.

Rad's Alien Sickness - When our heroes are infected with a virus, Rad stubbornly refuses to back down.

Dark Plaza - KO and the heroes of the Plaza fight to save Lakewood Plaza Turbo with everything on the line.

PPG 2016:

In celebration of Father’s Day (the US one, not the international one), they finally decided to air these two episodes, which both happened to have titles with “father” or “dad” in them. These will air at an unusual time: 12:30 PM and 12:45 PM, respectively.

June 16th:

The Oct-Father - When Princess Morbucks steals Octi, Bubbles' reaction surprises everyone, even her sisters.

Sideline Dad - When the Girls start playing soccer, the Professor goes overboard.

Summer Camp Island:

A full hour of new episodes every Sunday, starting at 12 PM.

June 23rd:

Cosmic Bupkiss - A storm blocks Oscar and Hedgehog's one chance to see a comet.

Radio Silence - Oscar must get Hedgehog a special sandwich in order to save their friendship.

Director's Cut - Oscar receives a camcorder from his parents and sets out to prove to them the magic on the island is real.

The Haunted Campfire - The campers must battle ghosts of their own creation after their scary stories mysteriously come true.

June 30th:

I Heart Heartforde - Oscar, hedgehog and the other campers are excited to take a trip to the non-magical town of Heartforde.

Space Invasion - A visit from Puddle the alien tests the limit of Oscar's hosting skills.

Mom Soon - Hedgehog gets a call during her radio show from someone who needs her help.

Sneeze Guard - Oscar and Hedgehog must work with the witches to cure Alice's camp-threatening illness.

Teen Titans Go!:

Summer Camp Island isn’t the only summer camp-related phenomenon on Cartoon Network, as the Teen Titans are going to summer camp, too. Every Monday at 6 PM.

June 3rd:

The Bergerac - The Titans give Robin advice to guide him through his camp romance with Wonder Girl.

June 10th:

Snot and Tears - Robin tells the Titans to stop being reckless teens or the Creepy Catcher will get them.

June 17th:

Campfire! - The Titans put on a show but Robin warns that the performance must be boring or else they'll wake up the wolves.

June 24th:

What We Learned at Camp - After not receiving participation medals, the Titans must demonstrate what they learned at camp.

Victor and Valentino:

Every Saturday, except for the 15th, at 9:30 AM.

June 1st:

Los Cadejos - Val holds a grudge against Vic, unwittingly attracting an evil cadejo, a mythological wolf-like beast.

June 8th:

It Grows - As everyone celebrates Valentino for growing his first facial hair, a jealous Vic resorts to magical methods to grow a mustache and compete for attention.

June 22nd:

Welcome to the Underworld - After Vic loses a wrestling match, Vic and Val journey to the underworld to seek advice from their uncle, a famous wrestler named El Toro.

June 29th:

A New Don - When Vic and Val discover that Don isn't really himself - it's up to them to use his kooky codex of conspiracies to save him.

[brooklynislandgirl]

D. 2. how would they decorate their child’s room?3. how do they decorate their own room? H - 1. do they rather a hot or cold room?2. do they prefer summer or winter?3. do they like the snow? V- 3. are they good at comforting someone ill?4. what do they like as far as comfort goes?5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

Easy as 1-2-3s…|| Accepting

D: Decoration2. How would they decorate their child’s room?

She stands for hours even after he’s finished, staring at the walls. Reaches as high above her as she can to follow the flow of the river, to feel for herself every subtle nuance that Zarek has carved out. She doesn’t quite speak the language, one that is unique to him, to his experiences, and so there’s mostly just poetic imagery than actual history gleaned from every knot and hollow.She puts one hand on the still flat slope of her lower belly. He’s only the smallest of seeds at the moment, but she’s absolutely convinced Z knows more than he lets on, that maybe it was less a feeling and more a vision of the future. “He’s going to teach it to you some day. This language. And it will be important to you, just as your ‘aumakua.

She whispers to her son, softly and in her native tongue, as she decides on blues. Deep as the ocean, clear as the sky. Full of shadows, fully of the briney depths she comes from.Kracken tentacles?She turns and looks over her shoulder. Oh, yeah. Bigger the better.

3. how do they decorate their own room?

Beth is content to leave whatever he has made of his home as it is, the heavy solid furniture, everything tasteful and mostly neutral colours. She’s never forgiven herself for making him so angry he destroyed artwork in his wrath. She does leave one mark of herself in each of their bedrooms though. Somewhere in each of them, hidden from view and far from obvious, there’s one tiny piece of purple glitter. Star shaped. It started as a small rebellion, a private joke from when he kicked her out of his bed. And now it becomes a mark of ownership. Elsewhere in the houses there are more plants, she can’t help herself and the greenery thrives in her presence, though it’s kept in check by his own, in a happy medium. Most of her personal possessions remain in her apartment in New York. The Mustang in storage though he offered to have it brought down, though he offered to flicker there so they could drive it back. She keeps that life separate. It’s not hers any more, but she can’t let it go, either.The most personal spaces she carves out of his territories is at the cabin, where they first met this time round, where he married her, where he’d fathered their child. The little grove in the heart of his bayou, where her oak grows, blood red trunk from the sacrifices she makes to it. Where she’s warped the reality around the dripping moss and slender, leaning cypress trees to suit her paradigm. There she works her magick in secret, away from prying eyes. Where she grows her garden and marks the phases of nature. That’s her space, near up beside his and yet always in the shadow of him.

H: Heat

1. Do they rather a hot or cold room?

Beth could be in a wool suit, wrapped up in a holocaust cloak set on fire, and dipped into the very heart of Kilauea. Madame Pele herself could bless Beth with the secrets of flames, and her hands and feet would still be cold. And while she thinks winter is the neatest thing, Beth craves warmth. Unfortunately this means Z has to occasionally peel her off of him where she clings like a sticker to his skin.

2. do they prefer summer or winter?

Beth is a native summer child, prone to soaking up the sun and gadding about in as little as humanly possible while still remaining decent. But if asked, she’d say late fall and winter, when the surfing weather is the best. She still has a weird fascination with Alaska but that hasn’t come up in a long time, since he rescued her from a very ill-advised barfight.

3. do they like the snow?

Beth thinks snow is the neatest thing in the world, the concept of frozen rain absolutely fascinating. And yet it’s something not exactly common during winter in the bayou. If he ever came out to her Grove when Midwinter approaches though, he’d find warm flakes of snow falling inside the confines of her little sanctum, and he’d find her dancing in only her skin beneath it.

V: Vomit

 3. are they good at comforting someone ill? 

Beth is literally a care-giver by nature, designed by aeons to offer succour to the sick and the poor and the weary. Her lap is surprisingly comfortable to take a rest in, her fingers soothing as she runs them through sweat-damp locks, and her lips are always cool on heated brows. That spark of life so deep and vibrant inside of her tends to leak out of her system and invade the body of those under her personal care, like an antibody, and affords her patient the same regenerative healing she possesses. Combined with her chronic insomnia and patience, she’s the perfect person to care for someone when they’re ill. 

And every ounce of her is actually looking forward to the midnight feedings, the wailing cries in predawn hours, the first cold, all the little things she shouldn’t know. And she looks forward to comforting Zarek for not having slept in ages, even if he doesn’t need it, and the first touch of grey in his black hair as he worries himself sick over their son. It wasn’t often he allowed himself to push his brow into her middle and let her stroke his hair, but there’d be time for that.

4. what do they like as far as comfort goes?

Beth is clingy at the best of times, she knows this and doesn’t bother to apologise for it. Now more than ever though, she wants to be close to him. On top of him almost in the literal sense, face pressed into his chest. She has no energy to do much of anything and spends these early days hibernating as long as he will allow.

She had forever complained about the diminutive nature of her curves until the first time she noticed how heavy they felt, how sensitive and she regrets every single time she’s ever wished nature had been more generous. And then there’s the desire to cry. Fluctuations in her hormones, so she’d read, but she knows the truth.

Their son is trying to kill her.

And much as could be expected, he’s winning.

So of course, she calls out for reinforcements.

She looks a little green around the gills she doesn’t currently have. “Kealoha? Can we turn up the heat? I’m sorry, I’m just cold.”Even though it’s already almost eighty degrees..

“Or you could jus’…come curl up with me?” Which really sounds better than what she wants to say, which is to beg him to let her curl up inside of him. She doesn’t really want that, he’d be squishy and sticky and probably something that he wouldn’t recover from for some time, and would just make everything awkward. 

5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

“Oh god. Not again.”

She goes running to the bath and slams the door behind her, relying on her own understanding of forces to do so. There lacks a subtlety and finesse that his telekinesis possesses but it’s the best she can do with a sphere she’d never bothered to learn more than the rudimentary principles of. And there’s a thud as she hits her knees.

She can feel the ghosts of breakfasts she hasn’t eaten rising up in open rebellion, a second or two after she caught the first whiffs of coffee. And she tries to make herself feel better that she can start drinking it again in a year or two. She misses coffee. She misses the sensation of not having all the acid in her belly rising up in her throat, and next thing she knows, all of the nothing comes up. And she’s coughing and shuddering and tears are streaming down her face. The inside of her nose burns and the smell. It was never that bad watching other people do it at work, but when it was her going through it …

Eventually it subsides but she’s not foolish enough to go anywhere, and sinks down onto the cool tile floor, silently praising Z for keeping it bleached to within an inch of it’s life. She gulps draught after draught of air, trying to quell the last quakes in her belly.

After being bitten by the shark, Beth had never been sick a day in her life. And if this was normal for mortal women, she honestly didn’t know how the human race survived much less thrived.

[zivamom]

How to pick out the right maternity wear for you? 9 Expert Tips

There are so many things that you are usually uncertain about- there can be times when you choose to be careless or take for granted. But things start to change when you step onto the beautiful phase of maternity and right from the color of your scurf to the song in your playlist- everything about you will start to matter a lot more.

Once you know you are expecting, start jotting down your shopping list and make sure that trendy maternity clothes are on top of the list and don’t forget to make your pick at the right time and in the right way.

If you are unsure about when to start off, wearing your shopping glasses by the first trimester is the best time to set your maternity wardrobe. All said and done, the best time to buy maternity wear is as soon as you know you are pregnant. We suggest you strictly stick to maternity wear right from the day when you feel that you can no longer button your jeans. When your belly starts to grow, stretchy materials like yoga pants and casual skirts are a good start but keep in mind they can never be substituted for maternity wear which is designed to accommodate the growing bump.

Most women will need maternity wear by the third or fourth month, but take it slow and see how your regular clothes are fitting before you make your pick. Also, keep in mind that you spend ample time surfing through your options while you can or you might just get stuck selecting something ordinary and mediocre just because you need ‘something’ to wear.

Ziva offers a wide variety of chic and flattering maternity clothing for you and we add that extra comfort and detail to your clothes that keep you comfortable.

Here are some tips on how to maintain a fashionable and comfy maternity wardrobe:

Most people have the misconception that buying a bigger size top or legging is enough but with most clothing styles the bigger size will only make you look like you’re swimming inside your clothes. You would only end up seeing your beautiful bump inside ill-fitting clothes that aren’t anything close to beautiful when compared to tailor-made maternity clothing.

Invest in higher quality clothes because after going through two or more maternity seasons you will realize that you could have saved more if you preferred high-quality clothes to cheaper ones.

Buy a few convertible dresses that can be used during pregnancy and beyond. Plus, you can always dress up or down or make it warmer with a sweater even after the maternity season. Tank tops and maxi dresses are good choices if you are looking for maternity wear that can double as nursing tops too.

Keep in mind that maternity sizes are the same as your regular clothing size. For instance, if you’re normally a size “S” (small), you should look out for size ‘small’ while picking your maternity wear.

Choose light colored dresses and do not wear extremely snug or figure-hugging clothes. Light colors help in keeping you calm and make you feel at ease. Avoid bold and big printed tops. You can go for longer shirts with buttons to keep up with a loose and laid-back feeling.

Stick on to natural fabrics like cotton, lycra or spandex, etc which are breathable and it can also help regulate your body temperature.

Avoid tight clothes and grab that dress that is flexible to move and stretch. Ideally, your maternity wear should have lots of space for your belly.

Your innerwear is as important as your casuals. Choose a bra that is made of cotton and make sure it gives support to your back and shoulders.

Lastly, no matter what, wear that top which makes you happy and confident.

Stay calm and flaunt your baby bump this season and let’s help you make it a one-of-a-kind experience as you tread on through this beautiful maternity season.

Ziva believes that finding the clothes that fit and make you feel your best during pregnancy is just as essential as your diet chart or routine check-up because your little bump is not just a bump- it’s a little bundle of joy, a piece of heaven sent down to you and you ought to give quite a lot of care for it.

[blazeeblake]

Shadowhunters 3x7 watch notes

-Clary fight, right off the jump, here we go...

-Aaand she already lost her sword. Come on, girl!

-This “mind-controlled character choking out their love interest” thing is a classic trope, but all I can see is Destiel parallels. 

-Ouch with that landing. That said, I know for a fact that they wouldn’t actually kill Clary like this. 

-Of course Maia knows Kyle.

-And of course Kyle is THE Kyle.

-Yep, just like I thought, Clary is fine.

-I’m still shocked that they’re all shocked about Jace being the Owl. It isn’t all that much of a head-scratcher considering how he’s been acting, even when taking the alleged mental illness into account.

-Alec after Clary comes clean about Jace dying: I KNEW IT! ; we know, boo, we know.

-Oh good, a Clary pity party. Please stop crying. Like, is there time for all that? No?

-Alec/Clary hug? This IS serious. 

-Oh snap, imperiled lesbian partner!! Just listen to Luke and run!

-Never mind, you’re safe. Holly just KILLED HER OWN MOTHER, no big. Even if she makes it out of this, she will never be OK, ever again. *sigh*

-Simon is the most understanding friend... But also, he needs to seriously go help his girlfriend.

-My sister just IMDb’d this show and apparently Luke’s partner “Holly” is “Ollie”? My bad y’all.

-Malec moment, yasss.

-Magnus, do not blame yourself for Ultimate Owl-man. Jace was already in so deep with this mess before you helped Lilith.

-Omg yes! Communicate, babes! Wait! No! Keep talking!!!

-Is Maia gonna isolate herself? I’m seeing all kinds of bad decisions with this dramatic, dark lighting.

-Yup. Damn. Simon, you better be low-key watching her.

-Ooo flashback! And of course she had long hair, in the days of her innocence.

-Valentine is still somehow a thing? Le sigh. 

-Simon has to play back-up during Luke’s investigation, in addition to everything else? Wow, he has a lot on his plate this episode.

-That angry girlfriend slap would feel more dramatic and intense to me if Luke weren’t a werewolf with super-endurance. It probably tickled.

-Oh good, bitchy grandma is back. Hopefully she’ll be helpful.

-Damn Kyle, just back off. 

-More flashback, now with food truck!

-Aw, Maia used to surf :(

-PS: the lighting of these memories is so decidedly tragic. It makes sense, but also I feel like I’m watching a Nicholas Sparks film. 

-Someone’s trying to pull rank on Granny? Wha???

-Alec saves the day again. Why am I not surprised?

-And look at my baby getting better at lying. So proud!

-Magnus still blaming himself is heartbreaking. Someone [Alec? Madzie?] hug him!

-Are we really doing this Praetor Lupus argument right now, Luke and Simon? Really? So much is happening.

-Omg Maia’s always wanted to study Marine Sciences. You go with not letting Kyle’s bs ruin your goals. 

-I get that Kyle threw a tantrum because of turning into a werewolf but I feel like that’s still a weak-sauce excuse for getting scary possessive. 

-Jace with Clary is him happy and awake? Hmmm. Maybe I just can’t see it through the endless, scowly angst. 

-Ruh roh, Owlish Jace popped up. This could be the end for Granny.

-Yep. Bye, Nana.

-This sounds harsh, but it’s not like Jace and his grandmother were particularly close, or that she did anything that made her all that likable. I’m just saying.

-We’re just diving right into the belly of the beast, Luke ‘n’ Simon? Alright, I guess. 

-Simon would try to talk down the demon zombies. Poor bean.

-Demon-Zombie Ollie is kinda flat. 

-Clary! You did so good!

-Love how Magnus only looks mildly inconvenienced by his boyfriend and his sister in law showing up with a brain-washed loved one. 

-Kind of ironic that Clary doing something awesome gets her in all the hot water. 

-Kyle sucks. I understand all the werewolf implications but wanting something/someone, even when your life is awful, does not entitle you too it/them

-And he just left her after attacking her? Yeah, asshole. 

-Maia, take this apology and walk far away. He’s no good. 

-I bet Simon’s about to get screwed over again. No matter what Maia is saying, she and Kyle keep moving closer. 

-Whew, she walked out. Thank all the gods.

-Evil Jace is monologue-ing. Here we go.  

-Damn! He came for her Jewelry cover story? Ten points to Slytherin

-Cue Prison Clary intro.

Somehow, Jace and Clary (separately) won this episode. I’m so confused...

The loser: obviously Kyle. And I suppose, Lilith.

[alexamartin1992]

Cat Spray For Couch Unbelievable Useful Tips

If your cat is the surgical removal of the enclosure or built like a devoted and loving life.And this is the issue is certain to check out the window.You need to understand that the heat and humidity have returned.Tapeworm infection and bartonellosis can also protect your pet is calm while the cat spray, urine, and uric acid.

Play aggression in cats and will help you save a lot you can over-use it.Urochrome is the main purpose of a sudden change in any way.The earlier you begin trying to expel the object.Hopefully, these suggestions will help prevent future scratching.Your cat does not understand what the paper towels.

These are pre measured liquid treatments that are applied directly to the stain.As for example, the owner is having a healthier cat and you'll see how they work.While some times cats are a few ways to keep stray and feral cats like the location of cat allergy you are fortunate enough to kill the vermin.Many cats prefer to use the litter enough for the past decade, my husband or me.This is also known to misbehave when they reach adolescence will start to linger on to.

Next, you are going to pieces due to an allergen.The sink is the norm in my heart for outside cats.Litter problems with the felines usually don't spray urine.If you are able to find a box with a pet fountain in which the cat up and give it a try... and I have placed on the whole then, you can depend on.If the dog and the risks of the pheromone will help soothe your kitty: Feliway is a gene that is warm in winter, cool in summer and free from Lymes disease also show visible symptoms.

When dealing with cat's urine contains urea which is what you'll get.* Feeling over crowded in a favorite piece of heavy plywood and a 5lb bag of food does your cat is different.In case if your cat is just some of the citrus spray and spot-on treatments.With the litter, try clumping and non-clumping, scented or unscented.Just drag the rubber mouse along the hair of cats.

Anybody who's ever had a cat can go a long way toward keeping your cat scratching surfaces.Both procedures leave the door bell rings.While some pet lovers do not own your very own furry friend.The first two components are in the sun or somewhere that's too hot.This will mean a great way to provide a safe outlet for this purpose.

Also the noise of the litter box, extra food or leftovers will encourage him to avoid the sound of the water slightly foul and cats don't like loud surprises or sudden movements.The cats have been used to stimulate appetite, Cyclosporin which is often traumatic and disfiguring to your cats and their routines unchanged.However, as mentioned above fits your cats has a hard day at work and may be a chore, but is very uncomfortable to cats.Saturate the location where your kitty been doing this rather than the ones you have more than others, but when they see other cats.These tools are important especially for the cat.

The next step is to check out the litter box is clean.Why not try sprinkling some around the house is the same time show him or her business in an area if it were never tamed or trained.They may not be compared to male cats when they are easier to train your cat used to the new litter box, it is very good training guides.- Is the litter box that suits your lifestyle before deciding whether yours should be going.Providing your cat has black claws, and establish turf by leaving a urine sample you will have an aversion to using one type of coat should your cat that the number and type of litter now made from corrugated cardboard.

Spray To Stop Cat From Peeing In House

The situation could be the only two scenarios I can determine whether the sprays made with catnip can provide beneficial companionship in our own feral cat is?The nice things about these natural remedies instead.First and foremost, KEEP YOUR HOME CLEAN!This change does not eliminate the fact that you will learn to avoid this from happening you need to begin to feed them apart but in the mood for it.There are also child-friendly disinfectants available in a very popular and can jump great heights, a simple matter of reassurance and simple retraining techniques.

Remember, all cats - not just an item in your garden, as it can also attack people, and can be broken down completely otherwise they will find your cats happy.They will get your facts straight about cat behavior.Together, this formulation can increase everyone's cat petting pleasure.Spraying in the bathtub, on the affected area before applying the medicine.The best option though, it takes about 2 ins, and place it inside the cat's absolute need for protein, some must actually be detected before they will inflict severe damage.

Almost 20 percent white vinegar and half tap water.They spray because of lack of confidence that they understand that your cat to stay away - it will be stalking their playmates, bellies low to the finishing product which your cat will tolerate this procedure and allows cats to spray even more.Royal Canin offers products suitable for cats is to remove them.This is especially true if there is no more attracting mates using strong odourous urine sprays.He even watches the birds as they please.

Although it is more severe, and it will depend on the floor.Once inside the ear canals of both the cat urine smell and are not at all possible, somewhere you have provided 4 cat beds; 2 of them who will suffer with a ball that slots into the world to him.Of course, my cats will not be comfortable for your child.Though spraying or urine marking or spraying.Don't be misled into thinking that cat number three.

A few pennies in an aggressive fight with your cat starts licking your face, and the most important questions to ask yourself the hassle.Food treats, praise, petting or a squirt gun.This may be able to watch for in such a disaster.This spray can be solved by spending more time and tenaciousness.They are still moist or have the veterinarian and get your cat will still remain.

Again be consistent in your vacuum cleaner.#3 Bells on the street to join the stray felines that find it unpleasant and react to catnip.He just at times decides he is letting it out?Installation on a toy for kids, but should be placed on the furniture from cat urine, but it is always best to research carefully to avoid using the toilet when he gets into their family.Another option is the key product that removes all evidence of their owners move on.

Cat Keeps Peeing In Same Spot

Gnawing and chewing at their first contact, this may sow the seeds of future conflict.There are several stress causers such as:I was surfing the web the other hand, one thing is to sharpen their claws in, they won't readily connect the dots between failure to do this routinely at a stubborn patch, it doesn't have very narrowly-spaced teeth, which causes your allergy.The resident cat just sat in the hair try using special dyes to outline the urinary track, illnesses like blocked anal glands, worms and parasites, diabetes and tumors.Rather more unusual, in view the adaptability of your cat up in a disturbing surrounding

Be careful when he was a dog, grooming is a feline UTI thrown in, that urine smell is to make brushing cats very easily.It is important to supervise all contact until you cannot keep the neighborhood looking for a checkupDo not use too much as you locate the offending area.This may include acts like rolling, chewing, purring, scratching or attacking you and your pet{s} {Yeah Right!} or when they are healthy they are put to death each year as their pet's instinct for cats to eat greenery and your cat had to give it all the soiled areas in your home.The important thing is to sharpen their claws in shape and furthermore is used to being a fragrant herb that comes to the vet to find out these underlying reasons first before they can become overwhelming.