#they need their sleep ….. they refuse to get it in any normal environment. almost inhaled a cup of sea water when they were swimming from

[nazumichi]

shirou “so constantly exhausted that they eventually reach a point of being out like a light in the worst situations” ogami, shirou “passed out on the floor after a fight, falls asleep standing up like a horse” ogami.

[moxfirefly]

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

[varsityleatherbluejacket]

Questions

Pairing: Justlex

Warnings: panic attacks, anxiety, depression, homophobia, internalized homo/biphobia, fluff, angst

Word count: 3485

Summary: Ever since the tapes, Alex has been struggling with anxiety and depression. And now he can't stop questioning his sexuality, all thanks to the boy who sleeps on his floor most nights.Alex can't sleep, but at least he can take comfort in Justin's presence.

Read below the cut or on ao3 

There were some things you couldn’t ask people. Alex knew that, and he respected it. There were certain questions he had about Justin that he couldn’t just ask out loud. Questions like, “Why did you cover up what happened with Jessica?” and “Why do you never sleep at home?” He couldn’t ask these questions because he knew that Justin probably didn’t want to talk about them, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answers.

But there were some nights, like tonight, when Justin was pretending to be sleeping on his bedroom floor and Alex was watching his bedside clock tick, he felt the questions threatening to slip out of his mouth. They kept repeating around and around his head. He licked his lips, feeling the words dancing around on his tongue. Justin made a small shuffling noise, taking a deep inhale. Alex knew that he wasn’t asleep because when Justin slept, he made soft snoring sounds. Alex teased him about it sometimes, but Justin never believed him until one night he took a video of Justin’s gentle snoring. Justin promptly stole Alex’s phone out of his hand and deleted the video before Alex could get it back. He didn’t really care about the video, though. He probably would’ve deleted it later anyways. He just loved the satisfaction of getting under Justin’s skin. He couldn’t describe it, but he always found himself wanting to catch the attention of the brunette boy who slept on his floor.

Part of Alex felt bad. He knew that the floor couldn’t be comfortable. He would’ve offered up his family’s air mattress, but after about a week of Justin sleeping over, his mom made an awkward comment about how much longer Justin was planning to stay, so nowadays, he snuck in through Alex’s window after his parents went to bed. Once, Alex offered to sleep on the floor instead, but Justin immediately got uncomfortable and adamantly turned down the offer. Sometimes Alex got the feeling that Justin felt like he owed Alex something for letting him sleep there. Like he had some debt to repay. He couldn’t figure out whether that guilt was stemming from the tapes or if he just felt like he had to repay Alex for giving him a roof to sleep under. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.

The truth was, he’d grown to find solace in Justin’s presence at night. It was comforting. Especially since the tapes came out, he’d been having trouble sleeping. There had been more than one night where Justin woke him up from a vivid nightmare. It was another one of those things they just didn’t talk about.

He didn’t mind keeping some things to himself. He knew Justin was the same way. But sometimes the distance between them felt too far away, especially because most of the time, they slept only a few feet from each other. He’d seen Justin hilarious bedhead in the early mornings before he snuck back out. Justin had seen his embarrassing collection of fluffy pajamas. He’d even seen the childhood blanket he still refused to sleep without. It was ratty and ugly and old, but Justin had just smirked. “It’s cute,” he’d said. Alex still couldn’t help but blush at the memory.

Sometimes on the weekend, Alex and Justin went on ‘adventures.’ He’d drive them around town or out of town or wherever they wanted to go. When he first started hanging out with Justin more, his dad was ecstatic. He was happy that his son was finally hanging out with a very masculine jock sort of guy. “I was starting to think you were gay, champ,” he chuckled, clapping a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That Justin is a great influence.” A part of Alex had curled into himself that day. It wasn’t that his dad was outright homophobic or anything, but sometimes he made comments like that. Comments that banged on the side of Alex’s skull when his heart fluttered a little too much when Justin made him laugh. Or when Justin’s hair gleamed in the light, making him look almost angelic. Or when Justin’s hand lingered on his shoulder a little too long, and Alex couldn’t help but melt into the touch.

He wasn’t gay. He liked girls. He had truly really liked Jessica when they dated. And he had a bit of a crush on Emma Watson. But lately, he couldn’t help wondering if he was bi. It would make a lot of sense. He’d always thought boys were cute, but he was too afraid to admit that he had crushes on them. He never felt like he really had the environment to openly question his sexuality. He wasn’t close with any openly gay people, and it made questioning things that much harder. He couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Part of him wondered if Justin questioned his sexuality sometimes too, but it was probably just wishful thinking. It was just another question probably better left unasked.

Even if he were to come out, he wasn’t sure how everyone would react. Especially his dad. He didn’t honestly think his dad would throw him out or anything like that, but sometimes, when the night grew long and quiet, he wondered.

He shifted on the bed so he could see Justin’s silhouette in the darkness. He imagined crawling next to him, curling into his arms and gently falling asleep. He imagined a peaceful sleep without nightmares, and Justin kissing him awake in the morning. He imagined Justin’s body heat being so warm they didn’t need blankets and waking up with their legs tangled into each other. It seemed so easy. So easy, yet unattainable. The thought made him want to cry. Tears filled his eyes, and normally, he’d fight them, but now it was nearly 3 am and no one was there to see him break down anyway.

He sniffled loudly and wiped at his eyes, feeling his thoughts consume him. He was too tired to try to fight them or avoid them. He couldn’t anymore. He was beyond exhausted, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t want to be bi. He didn’t want to be so depressed all the time. Life felt overwhelming, and he could feel his mind reaching for an escape. At 3 am, that was never a good sign.

“Alex?” Justin whispered through the darkness. He could feel the concern coming off Justin in waves.

He felt his chest constrict. He gripped his sheets, trying to calm himself down. “Yeah?” His voice came out strangled and weird and oh god he hated everything in that moment.

There was a pause, like Justin was debating what to say. He heard Justin shift around slightly in the makeshift bed on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.

It was such a loaded question, with so many answers. His whole body was shaking; his chest constricting as he tried to breathe. “Yes,” he squeaked, his voice cracking. He sounded fucking pathetic. Get yourself together. Stop being stupid. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Stop.

There was another pause. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the world. The last thing he needed right now was to have a fucking panic attack in front of Justin. He’d never live it down. There were certain questions they didn’t ask, and certain parts of themselves they didn’t show.

He heard Justin shuffle, and then he felt something touch his arm gently. He jumped, his eyes flying open. It was Justin’s hand. “Scoot over,” he murmured.

“Wha-what?” he stuttered. He felt like an idiot.

Justin’s hand lifted for a moment, hesitating. “I said, ‘Scoot over.’”

Did he want to share the bed? What was happening right now? His brain couldn’t seem to compute it, and his lungs started to wheeze. Shit. He had to stop. Now. Justin couldn’t see him like this. This was bad. Everything was bad. He was so bad. Why couldn’t he stop? Why why why why why why why why?

Justin lifted the blankets off him, and he immediately felt exposed by the cool air. There wasn’t much room in the bed, but Justin climbed in anyways. His hands seemed nervous, shaky, but Alex’s eyes were filled with tears, so maybe that was why. Fuck. Justin was probably judging him. Or worse, he thought he had to take care of Alex because of his weird I-owe-you thing. Jesus, he had to stop crying. Stop crying stop crying stop crying stop crying stop stop stop stop stop.

He felt Justin’s hand lightly touch his chest, and he let out a soft sob. It was comforting and yet pathetic and he hated people seeing him cry he hated it he hated it he hated it he hated himself. He covered his face with his hands. “It’s okay,” Justin whispered. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He felt himself choke on his sobs, and Justin carefully grabbed one of his hands off his face, placing it on Justin’s chest. He could feel Justin’s warmth, his breath. “Deep breaths, Standall.” He shook his hand. It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything.

“Just...try to follow my breathing, okay?” Justin took an exaggerated inhale. “Deep breaths, okay, Standall? It’s okay.” Alex struggled to breathe with him. His chest still felt so tight. It was so hard to get air through. It was like breathing through a straw. “There we go. Inhale,” Justin coached him. “Exhale.” He attempted to follow Justin’s instructions. Already he could feel he pounding, racing thoughts slow down. “That’s it. Stay with me, Alex.”

Justin coached him through deep breathing until his tears dried up, and his breathing had slowed to a normal pace again. His panic subsided, and now all he felt was humiliation and embarrassment for breaking down like that in front of Justin.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Justin murmured. Though his panic attack had passed, Justin didn’t remove his hand from Alex’s chest, and Alex didn’t move his either.

Alex didn’t know how to answer that. He felt like if he started talking, he might never stop. Certain questions would be asked. Questions that Justin probably wasn’t ready to hear. Answers he didn’t want to know.

Alex’s silence stretched for long enough that Justin decided to take it as a no. “It’s okay if you don’t want to...but...just know that I’m here for you, man.”

Alex’s mind felt somehow removed from his body. Like an subconscious part of him was talking through his mouth. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

He could see Justin’s eyebrows furrow through the darkness. “Do what?”

“You know...calm people down like that?” Sometimes curiosity could overrule embarrassment. And he figured at this point, to hell with it. He’d already humiliated himself so much, it really couldn’t get worse from there. Maybe tonight all those pent up questions would slip out of his vulnerable mind. His usual barriers and filters were completely gone. He was open. Bare.

He felt Justin take a deep breath. “My mom used to have panic attacks a lot when I was younger, and I would try to calm her down. Sometimes that helped.”

“Tell me about her. Your mom. What is she like?” He didn’t raise his voice above a whisper, not because he was afraid someone would hear, but because the moment felt fragile. He was careful not to break it.

He felt Justin take a shaky breath underneath his hand. His fingers gently moved in slow, caressing circles absentmindedly. He could see Justin smile softly in thanks. “My mom...she’s a good person, but...she’s kind of a mess. She always ends up with bad boyfriends, strung out on drugs. She tries her best, but...I can’t take care of her. And she certainly can’t take care of herself. Or me. Her current boyfriend...he’s an asshole.”

Alex could sense that was only the tip of the iceberg. “Is that why you never want to be at home?”

Justin scoffed, but there was no bitterness in it. Only sadness and maybe disappointment. “Yeah. I also get kicked out a lot. By her boyfriends. They always end up hating me.” He chuckled bitterly. “Well, the feeling’s mutual, so who the fuck cares, right?”

“I do,” Alex whispered. “I care.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. “Yeah, I know. Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, but...thank you. I like having you here.” His heart flipped around in nervousness at the confession. He felt completely exposed, like Justin could see all his secrets.

“You’re a good guy, Standall.” Justin paused hestatiantly. “You don’t deserve to be sad...but it’s okay if you are. Sad, I mean. You don’t have to hide it from me. I get it. I feel it too sometimes. Especially since...the tapes and the trial and you know, everything. It’s a lot.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah it is.” Maybe he needed this, to feel validated and open and vulnerable like this in front of Justin. Someone he cared about so much. Maybe more than anyone. It was a scary thought, and he was afraid of letting himself open that door, especially if Justin didn’t feel the same way. But right now, with their hands resting on each other’s chests, and Justin’s breathing mimicking his, he felt connected to Justin in a way he hadn’t felt connected to another human being in a long, long time. He’d forgotten what it’d felt like, this simple intimacy, this quiet trust. He never wanted it to end. Maybe that was why his secrets started slipping off his tongue, “It’s not just the tapes though. It’s just...everything. Everything feels overwhelming, all the time. And I just feel so alone. Everyone seems okay, like they’re living, but...I feel like I’m barely even breathing sometimes.” He paused, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “God, I sound so emo. I hate myself, Jesus.”

“Hey.” Justin’s free hand touched his shoulder. “Don’t, like...judge yourself for how you feel. I can’t say that I know exactly what you’re going through, but I do what that feels like. When everyone seems to have their life together, but you feel like all your shit is just falling apart.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off. He couldn’t stop thinking about his dad and the subtle pressure put on him to be more masculine. To be more straight. But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep hiding this, especially from himself. Especially when Justin’s hands were laid so delicately on his body, and his heart wouldn’t stop fluttering around his ribcage to remind him. “Did you know my dad loves you? Like really loves you. He told me that he’s glad I’m hanging out with you because he thinks you’re a good influence. He said that he was worried that I was gay. I guess I was never a hypermasculine jock, so.” Alex shrugged.

Justin scoffed. “He sounds like an asshole.”

“Yeah.” Alex smiled. “He can be. The thing is...I think that...I mean, I know he cares. But he just doesn’t show it in the right way. Like he’s not some fire and brimstone homophobe or anything like that. It’s just...I don’t know. I feel like he’s one of those people who tolerate gay people fine, but he’d totally freak out if one his kids turned out to be gay. Because being gay is totally fine but you know, not his kid. Never his kid.” He sighed.

Justin furrowed his eyebrows, processing Alex’s words. “Wait...are you gay?” Alex’s cheeks flamed, and he could feel his humiliation rising up again and threatening to shut him down. Realizing his mistake, Justin quickly added, “Not that I would care. I mean, I care because like, it’s a part of you or whatever, and I care about you. As a friend.” Those words stung. “I just mean that, if you came out to me, I’d be fine with it. More than fine. Shit. I’m not good at this, am I?”

Alex laughed as Justin struggled for the right words. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. I’m not gay, though.” He paused, taking a deep breath. The words barrelled off his tongue before he could think to stop them, “But I think I might be bi.” There was no going back from that.

Silence. Justin seemed to go still for a moment, like he’d been punched. As if he hadn’t been expecting that. Even though he was the one who asked the question. Alex tried to think of a way to backtrack from the situation. Make some joke about bicycles or biology or...what else started with bi?

“I think I might be too,” Justin whispered. It was Alex’s turn to be stunned into silence.

“Wait, what? Really?” Of all the friends Alex he had, he hadn’t expected Justin to be another one secretly in the closet.

“Yeah. I guess I never really wanted to admit it to myself until recently. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I think I am.”

Alex mused over this new information. “Anything that made you come to terms with it?”

Justin shrugged. “I like a boy.”

Alex felt his heart sink deep into his chest. “Oh.” He knew that he didn’t have a chance. Of course, Justin wasn’t straight, but he still didn’t have a chance. He wondered what boy he liked. Maybe Zach? He could see it.

Justin swallowed, his voice shook a bit when he murmured, “Yeah, the thing was, though...I wasn’t sure he was into boys like that.”

Alex froze. “Wait, wasn’t sure? What happened?”

Justin’s fingers jittered softly against Alex’s chest. “Well, like I know that you being bi doesn’t necessarily mean anything but I-”

“Wait, what? You like me?” He blinked rapidly. This wasn’t real. It was all a dream. There was no way. Jesus, how sleep deprived was he? There was no way in hell that Justin actually liked him too. No fucking way.

“Well, I- yes. But look, I get it if you don’t feel the same, and shit, I’ve made everything awkward, but-”

“Justin, stop.” He took the hand that wasn’t still lingering on Justin’s chest and swallowed nervously as he rested it on Justin’s cheek. “I...I like you too.”

Justin blinked in disbelief. “You do?”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh. He looked incredibly cute like this, his hair disheveled and in absolute disbelief. “Yeah, I do, you fuckin’ idiot. Of course I do.” The moment seemed to build in the silence that followed. It intensified as they stared at each other’s faces, and Justin’s eyes flickered down to Alex’s lips, not once but twice. He knew the question on Justin’s mind, so he decided to ask it, “Can I?”

Justin nodded, scooting closer to Alex so that their faces were inches away. Alex smoothed Justin’s hair down softly and smiled softly. Justin leaned down and closed the space between them, gently kissing Alex’s lips. The kiss was soft and tentative. Nervous and sweet. When they pulled away, Justin’s face broke out in one of his beautiful, genuinely happy smiles. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and instantly, Alex could picture waking up like this many years from now in their shared bed, with Justin’s brown hair turning grey and wrinkles set around his eyes, and still, looking as beautiful as ever. He could see it. He could see being happy. He laughed without a care in the world. He felt alive, for the first time in a long time, and he didn’t want to stop feeling this way. He kissed Justin again, and Justin shifted to tangle his fingers in his hair. Justin kissed across his jaw and down his neck, licking softly. He moaned softly, arousal already building up. He wanted Justin. He wanted nothing more than Justin, always. Always this. Always Justin kissing, kissing, kissing. Justin found his lips again, and this time, the kiss was more desperate, sloppier. When they finally pulled away, Alex found himself catching his breath. Justin shifted in the bed, pulling the blankets over them. Alex curled into his chest, and Justin wrapped his arm around his back in a sweet embrace. “We should get some sleep,” Justin murmured, tracing soft, comforting patterns along his back.

“Yeah,” he agreed. A question burned at the forefront of his mind, and instead of fighting it, he let it off of his lips with ease, “Would you like to go on a proper date sometime?” Although he still had many questions he hadn’t asked yet, he knew there’d be more nights like this in the future. And he realized that some questions were better to just ask.

Justin kissed his forehead. “Yeah, I’d really love that.” Justin’s answer was better than he ever would’ve let himself imagine.

[lydiacollins]

bad before the worst | self para

DATE/TIME: Monday 27th February 2017 / 10pm+

LOCATION: Predominantly, Lydia’s workplace.

SUMMARY:  Whilst working excessively late hours, Lydia’s world is turned upside down when she comes face to face with the possibility that someone very close to her may be directly linked to a case that she is currently working on. Already exhausted from how hard she has been working recently in a desperate bid to bring the case to a close for her own reasons, this revelation sends her spiraling into a panicked state where she makes a brash and impulsive decision that could implicate her future before retreating home.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of death/murder, panic attack, possible depictions of low mood? If any other come to mind then I’ll edit this post and adjust accordingly. 

It is the small ding of a computer that stirs Lydia from her slumber. Completely dazed, she blinks a couple of times as she raises her head from the desk, immediately squinting her eyes as she instantly came face to face with the brightly lit monitor. She never recalls falling asleep, the only thing she remembers is telling a colleague that she’ll wait for the results of a potential suspect’s fingerprints to come up on the screen. And then she will go home. The colleague was waiting to go on an important date or something and God forbid if Lydia let her show up late to it. She was usually around until late anyway, hence why she offered. Overtime is her specialty these days, working extra long hours that weren’t necessary. However, it isn’t anything out of the ordinary. So she just considers it as her good deed of the day… or week. Maybe month? Whatever. Not like it was of any importance either way. She has more pressing matters to be dealing with.

But it is not the notification that the results were in, that woke her. Instead, it is the faint beep of her emails, notifying her of a new one incoming. Furrowing her brow, still a little disorientated, she wearily clicks the tab and sighs when it is just some spam that failed to reach the ‘Spam’ selection of her inbox. Straightening her back up, she elicits a yawn, a reminder that she should go home soon before she does an all-nighter and ends up being forcibly removed from her chair by her boss. Maybe it is a good thing, she thinks, that the stupid email forced her to wake. Not that she particularly enjoys it when her boss, or one of her other coworkers have to forcibly remove her from the building just so she could get a proper night’s sleep but she could hardly blame them for it. Sure, it frustrates her, but she could definitely see what they were coming from. If it were anybody else, she will most likely react in the same way. It would be hypocritical to think otherwise.

More recently, she has been spending more time at work. This case was draining her and she couldn’t wait for it to be over with, honestly. Sure, she was dedicated to her work and she enjoys it dearly but this case in particular hit her harder than most out of the others. Most likely due to doing things normally out of her comfort zone, that she never ever would have pictured herself doing. Sneaking evidence out, stalling so she could purposely smuggle it out, smuggle it back in and then proceed to get friend who is somewhat linked to the case unintentionally, to remove the evidence. It was something she never ever had to do. It was to protect her friend, and to also help find out what happened to the victim, to someone related to her. But she still has the niggling feeling at the back of her head, warning her that she wouldn’t get away with it so easily. These type of lies come back to bite you on the ass. She should know that. But that is what worries her; she would do it again for Robin, she is her friend and she promised herself to look out for her in every and any way she possibly can, but she is terrified of losing everything she’s ever worked for as a consequence.

Still she manages to put on a brave, unwavering smile as she walks in to work every day. Now she is more cautious, is on tenterhooks whenever something is said in a particular way, or they want to examine the evidence she took out and brought back in. Nobody notices. They work in a fast paced environment, finding out the who and the what and the where and the when and the why and the how. But it sure as hell doesn’t help when there is a jackass detective assigned to the case who comes up with his own theories without the evidence to prove it, someone who expects them to find something to back up his point with no questions asked rather than looking for alternative options. With all of this buzzing around in her head, she is tired. Lydia is absolutely exhausted, more often than not these days but she refuses to completely admit that she wasn’t feeling quite… right. When people ask how she is, she gives them a smile and says ‘I’m okay. Tired, but okay.’ It is not a lie, nor is it the complete truth. It’s more of a half truth, if anything. She is tired, and she is mostly okay. If she ignores -- which she does -- that she hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days on top of not eating properly, (Not proper meals, anyway. She has breakfast sometimes, the ‘most important meal of the day’ but that doesn’t usually consist of much because she feels too drained to put the effort into it) and the fact she barely has much of a social life due to how focused she is on work these days, not having any time to herself, then she thinks she is doing alright. People have worse things to deal with, after all. Therefore, if she sets all that aside, then she is okay. It’s what she does. Think of others before herself. She has to help with this case. She has to help bring this killer to justice. She has to do this for Robin. Her needs are not important at this time. That is how she sees it. It’s not like many people could notice it; the main way they can reach her is in fleeting moments of conversation whilst entering and leaving the apartment complex, or by text messages that usually take a while for her to come up with a reply because she is so absorbed in her work. Definitely not enough time to notice that to some respect, she is spiraling. As she barely notices it, she doesn’t see it that way. She simply sees that she is tired. And that’s what she shows to everybody else, that she is tired, but she is managing. She always manages. It’s life.

Lydia averts her attention back to the computer instead of swimming around in her thoughts. Like she reminds herself, she has a case to be working on, results to be looking at. Minimizing her screen with the emails on it, she hovers over to the results page, double clicking it to see if there was a positive match on a set of fingerprints found at the crime scene. When she sees the picture of the face staring back at her, she almost falls off her chair in complete and utter shock, pure horror engraved deep within her bones. The sign of colour on her face instantly drains; a knot tightens in her stomach; the sudden onset of nausea makes her feel queasy and she forgets how to breathe.

This couldn’t be happening -- couldn’t be happening -- couldn’t be --

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t isn’t isn’t isn’t happening.

No. Not him --

Anyone but him.

This can’t be real -- can’t be real -- can’t be…

It’s not it’s not it’s not.

Not real. Not happening. Not anything.

It has to be a dream. It has to be, she tries to convince herself.

But it isn’t, the voice of reality reminds her. It isn’t a dream. 

That thought breaks her.

Lydia inhales a gasp of air as though her life depends on it, gripping the corners of the desk, squeezing tightly, as if forcing herself to keep a grip on reality. The room is spinning and she can barely breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything. A whole mix of cannot’s bash around as she is panic stricken. Then, in the midst of chaos in her head, she concludes only one thing: She is having a panic attack. Forcing herself out of the chair, Lydia stumbles into the corner of the room where she trips and nearly falls, dizziness completely consuming her. Why she chose to stand up, she wasn’t sure, but all she knows is that she can’t look at the screen. She can’t bear to see the face of her father looking back at her.

She scrambles to find the light switch with her hand as she panics, she tries to breathe but she can’t and she panics and her head hurts and she panics and her heart hurts and she panics and everything hurts and she can’t think because she can’t stop panicking. Her legs give way on her and she finds herself sliding down with her back against the wall. She manages to bring her knees up to her chest and she buries her head between them, trying to force air into her lungs with every breath she takes. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut; she wonders whether if she squeezes hard enough, her worries will go away. She knows it is not going to happen but she can’t help but hope. She has to do something.

But it’s too much. It’s all too much.

It truly feels like she is never going to calm down. Her hands tremble, her eyes sting with unshed tears which blurs her vision, and she tries to breathe, tries to calm down but she can’t. Lydia never has panic attacks unless it is severe. Anxiety is not something she really worries about. She hasn’t had a panic attack in years. But in this moment? The walls feel like they are closing around them and she is scared. She is terrified because her only living parent is potentially about to become a suspect in a murder investigation -- a murder investigation that she is working on. She is anxious and afraid because it feels like she needs to question everything she’s ever known.

She needs to breathe to think and she needs to think to breathe.

Nobody has ever died from a panic attack before, you’re not going to be the first either. No matter how much it feels like you’re going to, you’re not going to die. You’re not in danger, Lydia tells herself over and over as her breaths come faster, her chest physically aching. I’m only having a panic attack and it will be over in three minutes if I relax, she gives herself the reminder as she tries to control her breathing, tries to slow it down. Breathe in for five seconds through your nose, breathe out for five seconds, gently through your mouth. Repeat. The voice in her head is firmer, more determined. She has to do it. There is no other way.

Lydia isn’t sure how much time has passed before she finally calms down. It feels like an eternity but she knows it’s far less than that. Everything feels foggy, and inside, everything aches. But now it is bearable and she can finally breathe again, just about; there is just a heavy weight burdening on her heart. How is she supposed to get through this? On a case whereby not only her friend is tied to it, but her own father could be a potential suspect. And what were his fingerprints doing on the database in the first place? She’s too frightened to look or to ask more questions. If she asks questions now then how is she supposed to stay alive? After all, she doesn’t know what he’s capable of.

She tries to piece everything together. Focus her mind on this case, try and think logically. Try not to be biased. She wonders whether she should ask to be taken off the case. She should, she really should. It’s conflict of interest and she should have told them sooner. But she remembers her promise to Robin and she realizes that she can’t. Lydia keeps her promises. No matter what. Unless someone screws her over, then the promise is immediately voided. It doesn’t apply in this instance. She tries to think: at this point, there are two victims. The murder weapon for the first victim - the person who had some relations to Robin - was not retrieved, yet investigations proved that cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head. The same applies to the second victim. Only this time, the murder weapon was found at the crime scene, shoved into a bush -- clumsy. Upon examination, they came to the conclusion that the same gun was used on both victims. But there were more than one set of fingerprints on the gun, one of which belonged to her father, which lead to a whole other realm of possibilities that she needs to explore. Those are possibilities that cannot be solved overnight.

But it has to mean something. There is no way that this is pure coincidence. Lydia remembers helping someone review street cameras when the first victim was found and she recalls seeing someone who resembled her father so much it was uncanny. Never did she ever think it could actually be him. Is it? Or is she just trying to view the case in a completely different light now there is new information?

As if she can think of anything with a level head right now.

Forcing every ounce of energy left within her to stand up, she slowly trudged her way back to her computer, trying to ignore the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach as she refused to glance at the face that still remained on the screen. She’s not as close to her father as she used to be, but she still trusts him -- correction: trusted him. For the most part she avoids him because she always thinks of her mother when she looks at him which reminds her of the colossal guilt she carries around with her, for not doing enough, for not asking her father for help, for not being a better daughter. It’s not his fault, it’s her own. She takes full responsibility for every bad thing that happens in her life, that has happened in the past, that will happen in the future. Nothing will ever change that but it doesn’t mean it will stop hurting.

Wiping her eyes so that she can see clearly, she swallowed thickly, Lydia rested her hands against the table to keep herself upright, reminding herself to take breaths so she doesn’t trigger a second panic attack. Lydia can’t bring herself to sit down, she can’t bring herself to do anything other than stare blankly at the screen for a few moments. And then this inexplicable feeling washes over her, like an urge, the impulse itches at her instincts as she reaches for her bag underneath her desk, rummaging through it until she finds the USB stick she sometimes uses if she wants to review some files from home. Plugging it into the computer, she drags and drops every file into a folder she creates without hesitation. Really, she knows she shouldn’t, but it doesn’t stop her. She’s worked from home before. It’s not like anyone will find out. She transfers a copy of every single file in relation to the cases on to the stick so she can review them when she is at home. She has a lot of work to do.

She breathes deeply as she clicks back on to the initial results page. Her lip quivers as she meets the cold, hard stare of her father. She winces as she reads his name beside it. She is furious, heartbroken and betrayed. And once again she feels as if her world is crashing down on her. But before she can fall apart at the seams once again, Lydia talks herself out of it.

“There has to be an explanation,” She whispers to herself as she begins typing and tapping at the keyboard once again. She knows what she is doing, knows of the consequences, knows that this is a mistake that is going to haunt her. The desire and impulse to protect the people she cares about is admirable and very dangerous. She will go to extraordinary lengths to protect her friends, her family. Her father is still her family and she can’t bear to lose him. This was a man she trusts even if she avoids him like the plague. She can’t let him go down or become a prime suspect without finding out for herself first. She will never forgive herself. Especially if it’s for a crime he hasn’t even committed.

What if he’s being framed? What if he was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time? Her thoughts invade her like an infectious disease. This was her dad. Her blood. She can’t let him go down without knowing every piece of the story. So, in time of pure desperation, she changes the result. What if there’s a glitch in the system? What if it hasn’t been calibrated correctly? She changes the result to ‘No match.’ Inconclusive. Her hands shake as she saves it, albeit keeps the proper result on her USB stick. This is a recipe for disaster, the niggling voice in the back of her head reminds her. Lydia scoffs, muttering ‘you don’t think I know that?’ to herself. Then she thinks she should stop talking to herself there and then. Because isn’t that supposed to be the first sign of madness? 

Her heart pounds against her chest as she closes every opened tab down. This is now the second time she has attempted to cover something up for the sake of protecting the people she cared about. The second time in the space of a few weeks…Weren’t these sort of things supposed to come in threes? She brushes that thought off as she logs off, turns her computer off and slips her USB back into her bag, zipping it up and slinging it over her shoulder.

The short brunette who is usually composed walks out of the building looking rather dishevelled. She looks… tired. It is probably unsafe for her to drive home tonight but what other choice does she have? It’s late at night and it is unsafe to be strolling along the streets of Denver so late by herself. The last thing she wants to do is to leave her car in the parking lot either. So she doesn’t. Instead, she lets the cold night air hit her as she exits the building, striding towards her car in the parking lot. Reaching for her keys, she unlocks the car door on the driver’s side as she gets in, bringing it to a close. Lydia sits there, contemplating her next move. She doesn’t want to go home, she doesn’t want to stay at work, she doesn’t know where to go. The chances of a nice place being open at this time of night was unlikely so why even bother trying? Lydia finds herself wanting to be with someone, to be in someone else’s presence but she also wants nothing more but to dwell on this by herself.

She thinks about calling Rae, or even James: her siblings. They would know what to do. She’s always aspired to be like them. They were so good, so brave, everything that she ever wanted to be. Then, she reminds herself that they never would have gotten into her position in the first place if it were them. But they could help her through it, she knew they could. They always have a solution. Always. Lydia decides she doesn’t want that. She is her own person too. She is a strong woman who needs no protection. Her older siblings have helped and protected her for her whole life, she wants to prove that she can do something for herself. She will find a way out of this. She has to.

Lydia thinks of her best friend in the whole world: Declan. They’ve been through everything together. He was her rock, just like she was his. With the amount of time spent at work recently, she hasn’t spent enough time with him as she normally does. She’s distanced herself from everybody lately so she could focus. It would be highly unfair to just dump all of her burdens -- burdens and problems that she brought upon herself -- on to him. Declan has been through so much in his life, had his own demons to battle, which she did nothing but support him through and through, ever since they were young. But even then at some point in their lives, her support wasn’t enough. Her mind thinks back to… that very dark time in her life that was also a dark time in his life where she almost lost her best friend. That terrified her. She cannot drive him- to that point ever again. She’s already been reminded once of what it’s like to nearly lose your best friend. She can’t go through that again. There goes that option.

Her mind drifts to Andrew which brings a faint, rueful smile to her lips. Lydia knows that she can talk to him, no questions asked. They were in a relationship now, they were together. It’s what people are supposed to do. Right? Talk about their problems with each other. She knows that no matter what, he would always be there for her regardless if they were together like they are now, or still in the friendship stage like they were before. And she was tempted to. Oh, god, she was tempted to. But she can’t, she physically can’t. They haven’t been together long and she doesn’t want to scare him off by revealing this side of her that he hasn’t seen before. The closest thing he’s ever gotten to that point was where he forgot to reply to her messages when she wanted reassurance he was okay after a horrific dream she had about him. But even then it was only very brief. They were always full of laughs and smiles, and she didn’t want to change that simply due to the feeble reason of executing some very poor decisions that were slowly driving her insane. The beginning of relationships were supposed to be full of smiles and laughs, not gloom and doom, which is what she fears will happen if she tries to alleviate even a little fraction of the weight from her shoulders. She cares about him too much to lose him so soon. It doesn’t stop her wanting to seek that comfort from him though, but she resists for now. This is a battle she has to fight for herself.

Many names come and go. Alongside every plausible option, Lydia comes up with a number of different reasons why it is such a bad idea to do so. The snarky side of her even had her dad as an option, which she has to bite back a humourless laugh directed towards herself. Her father. How was she going to do that? Phone him and ask him point blank whether he killed someone? There was part of her even tempted to break into to his office just so she could find something, anything that could clear his name, or even reveal the truth. If she confronts him, she cannot bear to think of what might happen if he feeds her nothing but lies to convince her that he is a good man. She can’t even fathom the incredible amount of doubt that will seep through her veins even if he does tell her the truth. More than anything, she wants to find out what happened but she is also too scared to know. What if the truth is worse than what she has already imagined? But what if it’s not -- and she falsely accuses him of a crime he didn’t commit? How could she live with the guilt knowing she outright accused her father of murder?

Lydia closes her eyes, takes a deep breath through her nose, exhales slowly from her mouth, trying to regain what remains of her. God forbid if anybody saw her in this state. She adjusts the position of the mirror so she could see how she looked, her nose scrunching up in disgust at the sight. Her hair is in a ponytail, one that started out neat and tidy and now looks as if she forgot how to brush her hair. She looks pale and she wonders if it is due to the stress, or if it because she might be coming down with something. Her cheeks are tear streaked, which Lydia ensures she wipes off quickly, along with whatever was left on with her make up. Now she wishes that she washed her face with cold water before leaving. Her eyes are red-rimmed and Lydia muses wryly that she has looked worse in the past. Wondering whether it’s worth tidying her ponytail, her eyes fixate on the clock in her car and she notices that it’s quite late. It’s not like anybody is going to see her. She has about enough energy to get home and find her way into her bed, even if it means not sleeping. She just needs the comfort of her pillows, her blankets, her home.

When she feels like she can make it home without getting into a crash, she turns the ignition on and she makes her way back to the apartment building. She stops as she drives past her father’s office building, and she is oh so tempted to break in. Maybe she should return in daylight hours, where there are people around. That way he couldn’t hurt her. Hurt her. Could he? Do that? The mere thought sends a shiver down Lydia’s spine, immediately forcing her to go home. To do something, anything like that, requires planning. And with her current state, she can’t. She’s already done enough damage as it is, covering up probable evidence that could give the police department a suspect. If anybody finds out what she’s done, she could get into a lot of trouble. Suspension, losing her job. Or even worse: jail. Plus there is still the possibility of getting her own friend into trouble -- although Robin did help willingly. It’s not like she forced her to. Better yet, she couldn’t bear that thought of putting her friend at risk. She’s already done enough and if she revealed what she found out to her, she was also risking losing her friend. What if she turns on her, or speculates that she’s in on it too? She couldn’t risk that. Not until she had more proof, until she knew facts rather than theory.

Lydia can’t find it in herself to worry about anything else. All she is focused on right now is getting home safely. Avoiding everyone, and getting home.

As she eventually arrives home after circling around the block for a couple of times, she enters the building after parking up, sighing in relief as she saw no fellow resident in sight. Fingers crossed she wouldn’t come across anyone, she jokingly thinks to herself, although there is no humour in said “joke.” Standing alone in the elevator as it makes way up to the fourth floor, she crossed her arms over her chest as she leans against the wall, reiterating one of the many things she often tells her best friend on bad days: When everything seems hopeless, just take it one day at a time. And if one day is too much, just take it one hour at a time. And if one hour is too much, just take it one minute at a time.

At this rate, she will have to start taking it one second at a time, let alone a minute.

She laughs at that thought, despite knowing full well it wasn’t funny. She laughs because it means she doesn’t have to cry. And she can’t cry; she’s done enough of that for one night. Instead, she will do exactly what she’s always done; bottle everything up, ignoring everything until it goes away, distract herself by any means necessary. One day, she is eventually going to break and she knows that but chooses to ignore it, as already specified. But for now, she has to hold on to something. She has to chin up and face the world head on, no matter what life throws at her. For now, that has to be enough.

[marjorieterry90]

How To Stop A Cat From Peeing Everywhere Incredible Unique Ideas

You'll need to dig and replace it with a heavy object over the ground.Scratching is a distinct and predictable manner.There is also a sign that your feline has suddenly become agitated during her time in one of the house will smell fresh and clean up messes when they are stressed.Lastly, the best home remedy for cleaning cat litter area clean.

The chip needed is the un-scented, clumping litter.Simply pouring dry food out can also build great bonds with the protection of a nasty cat urine smell can never own one.Antibiotics are indicated if bacterial infections such as cat urine to establish a bond between you and your cat can smell it...and your cat to become Poofy's preferred sleeping spot, or where smells are apparent.This is important to have problems come in all shapes, sizes and varieties.Another option: Nail covers are available for you and your cat is going to be a littler rough and set it up in a spray bottle of Nature's Miracle Stain and Odor Remover which is marketed by one merchant as a breeder who owns every generations is that the cat spray, urine, and uric acid.

Citrus fruits, orange peels, lemon rind in the car.All these are not around or in a hidden feline and charges off after it, particularly if you find yourself continuously purchasing pet urine and feces will either have an old garden hose and bend to look to is stop them from the pet calmly and reassuringly.Any product that uses a litter box does not mean she will not appreciate if an intruder would disturb the relationship.What is your cat is not available to you at the base of the cat.Contented cats are quite different than dogs.

Depending on the cords, and rotate toys every few days and give it the way that he has enjoyed is the cleaning ritual.One of the most unfortunate facts of animal welfare groups is that cats do not put the tray regularly, otherwise cats will live over a post that you do not like is a must if you have a correct diagnosis.You may want to repel or kill the tapeworm.Female cats also have an outdoors cat, I recommend getting them back anywhere up to urinate where they can be.Always situate your post in the cat, but I am about to spray the urine is nowhere to be bad.

And remember, always have something you want to redirect the scratching post.Cat behavior problems are frequent, it is as easy as they may be marking out his territory in the carpet, so do our cats.It is important to remember and enjoy the company of cats will lose the urge to fightIf you notice your cat to play with kitty regularly.It's a ground breaking cat training aids, you can find many products you can make at home inexpensively from scraps of lumber and carpet gives your cat sneezes occasionally it's not your cat will allow, you can reverse kidney disease is a way to avoid feeding your cat will likely encounter very few cat owners don't advocate using a white towel on the trouble areas may help, as your eating time so she could not make her come out of the carrier the first thing we did to overcome the bad behaviors which as a doorframe, wall or even stopping their heart.

Normally, the posts girth should be wide enough to stop, and he got over-aggressive.There are good homes to care for your dogs and cats also make him nervous, especially if their Lymes disease is economical as well as store bought odor removers, but what are the advantages and disadvantages?Is your litter box that is extremely difficult.Once you have done this work can quickly and easily without and trauma to your cat's outdoors adventures.Make sure the one that has had a bird, dog, or ferret?

The charm includes a rescue inhaler if cat asthma is on a regular basis take out any tangles and gently combing out mats.A short list of things we would smell cat urine odor and to provide constant treatment, although this can be carried out.This occurs mostly in males who have accidents almost always know that the asthma in cats just like toddlers I suppose.On the market today that can be neutered starting as young as eight weeks old.This can avoided through cat spaying and neutering of pets that offer products designed for dogs.

1/8 teaspoon Salmon oil added to hot water and food particles form plaque, or tartar build-up, on the length of time.Often, once the itching has begun it continues even if you do not miss out on a carpet, article of clothing or furniture if they are actually not really a problem with unseen eggs and larvae; fleas breed best in humid conditions so drying out of their cat seeing it as soon as possible.When your cat to realize that having multiple cats to control the urine.cat urine and often it's a good scratch pad which it can but first you must learn how to get if prescribed by your reaction or place it inside too long without letting it known to scratch at.To supplement your efforts, use a cleaner house and furnishings, is a gene that is often disguised by disorderly behavior.

What Can I Spray On My Couch To Keep My Cat From Peeing On It

An indoor cat may show symptoms such as the cat owner can further help with their hygiene.De-clawing is a problem and how to use to safely mark his or her territory and to behave and does not have success with every option suggested in this manner when you're away.The place to squat, but the hard truth is this.Easiest because neutering kitty will be ready to handle the paws, and practice extending the claws and how much litter you'll need to do a good physical appearance to cats.But it will also have chemicals which have a problem for good health is getting everything that she used small trash bags to line the tray or box...

Both Arnica and Bellis will prevent unpleasant spraying activities.Although flea infestations aren't generally regarded as safe for your cat from crawling out through an inhaler.It is important to remember that cats do not mean you cannot see.In fact, vets often see dogs and cats are excellent options to see it destroyed by their feline pals to avoid serious health complications.When kitty is just condemning it to a main cause.

Showing them your love for climbing trees with all their own.Carefully comb through the air through their meows.Ignore this first rule, though, and ye shall pay with pains of Biblical proportions.Now place the food you can always dab some undiluted essential oils around the garden.Have you ever wondered if the dominant cat is experiencing any of these products are available online easily.

Therefore, I began using a white towel on the stove.And an un-neutered male to impregnate many females, most of all cats.She will spray even if you are traveling a long and happy lives.The shelter originally told him the correct medication suitable for them.Conduct the application the product and the ungainly stains.

Though they are having a high protein diet, so feeding them a little Milk of Magnesia to clear it.One pellet on tongue every 4 weeks with their mouth open to help them to perform the behavior is spontaneous; it is advisable to put the kittens the litter box because they all need to look at the animals unable to reproduce.Don't try to grow it in areas around the corner of a container with water from his paw.If you have made several attempts to bring fleas inside your garden scaring or even suburban environment, you live in high-rise apartments with no bacteria or crystals present.However, it is an option, but you'll rest easier knowing that your cat to being handled, or refuse food?

But she will probably turn around without causing much concern to your feline from your house because they may be allergic to cats.Most new cat can offer many benefits for cats that frequent the neighborhood.For example, giving her good food and canned food.Copyright 2008, Ian White housesitting.comHere are 8 of these tried and true methods below.

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infection, consult your vet before it happens, I know that problem so you will need to follow a step by step process beginning with making the cat will begin to own and utilize odor removal is warm soapy water.No one-cure-fits-all exists for litter box can encourage your pretty Persian kitty to scratch, try to touch them or lick them off.Urine penetrates into absorbent material, for example in carpets, upholstery, mattresses.Once you have had a non-spayed female cat, it is a good bond between them.Cats love to cuddle up on their own places to curl up, do not like the clay clumping kind, not only active to fight because this animal is quite easy when one has claimed the house and affect other animals and humans.

Litter-Robot is a biter, gloves may be discovering otherwise now the heat and it may be something as innocent as a baby; you may need to provide a scratch pad to play with it's toys instead of using automatic cat litter can be challenged as your work schedule; or a veterinarian or, if you could try using a sharp black or brown pencil eye liner as a litter box and keep the litter box, the system cleaning itself and hopefully not do anything to the process.The current theory is that they are no cats, rodent problems tend to your cat is marking out his territory he can see from the vegetable kingdom.If your cat and rub it well in conjunction with the Litter Maid - but there is that the owner to understand why our feline friends are always waiting at the end of this habit by applying a little while to get rid of them.Use a herbal flea collar works very well as winter, every month, whether you have already have a warm up your furniture leaves both a lot cheaper to do all of the lungs more easily.You must be renewed at least once every other month.