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mithrilwren · 4 years

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Closed Hold

The long awaited next installment of the Shadowgast Figure Skating AU (inspired, as always, by the amazing art of @fiovske) is finally here! I don’t know if it’s cheating, since I was already planning to write this, but I’m also counting this as my submission for Day 7 of @essek-week because hey, it’s definitely an AU! :D You technically don’t have to read the first two works in the series - Inside Edge and 3 Turn - to enjoy this one, but some details may make more sense in context. Also, warning that things get a little NSFW by the end, in case that’s not everyone’s cup of tea! [Also on Ao3] [Find the whole series of one-shots in this AU here!]

(cw. implied past dub/con, chronic pain)

Essek never thought he’d find himself in a place where he could call sharing a hotel room with someone else ‘comfortable’. Yet here he is, sitting at a little table with his laptop open while Caleb slouches against the headboard, too engrossed in his novel to care for posture or dignity, Essek finds himself at ease in a way he didn’t know he was capable of - at least, not in another’s presence.

A bottle of wine sits open and half-finished by the tray on the nightstand, and every so often Caleb reaches over and takes a bit of carrot from the remains of Essek’s salad. He eats absentmindedly, the motion so regularly spaced that Essek can’t believe he’s aware of what he’s doing. He should find it disgusting, but not a single drop of dressing spills onto the sheets, and there’s something about the movement that’s almost mesmerizing in its steady, involuntary rhythm.

He almost wants to tell Caleb that they can order more food, if he’s still hungry. He doesn’t need to pick the scraps from Essek’s plate. But he knows enough now to say that the suggestion would be ill-advised - or rather, he knows enough now to say that he doesn’t know what Caleb’s reaction would be, and that is a good enough reason to be cautious. Slow steps have worked well for them in the last few months. There’s no reason to take unnecessary risks with something so delicate.

These evenings, where they share the same space - conversation - a good meal - are still difficult to come by. There are murmurings of renewed hostilities between the Dynasty and Empire, and orders from the Bright Queen to reduce contact while the situation cools, and fewer and fewer public spaces they could go where privacy would be assured. Essek is certain that some would find the idea of the two of them sneaking off to hotel rooms together, only to do nothing more illicit that talk the night away, an utterly unbelievable story. But truthfully, it’s only after long nights of competition that they find themselves in the same countries - much less the same cities - and neither has the energy for much else after so many hours at the rink.

And besides, this quiet time - where both are engrossed in their own worlds, but still close - it’s just as soothing as a calm bath, just as warm in his chest as a hot drink, and Essek wouldn’t trade it for any more exciting diversion.

Caleb stretches, the book’s spine knocking the top of the headboard as he curls backwards like a cat. As he settles once more, there’s an audible creak - not of the wooden bedframe, but of tendon against bone. Essek glances over again in time to catch a wince of pain in Caleb’s jaw, and his fingers pushing gingerly against the small of his back. Eventually, he flips on his stomach and resumes his reading.

“Are you alright? That sounded... unpleasant,” Essek says. Caleb doesn’t even look up from his book to reply.

“Sorry to bother you,” he says coolly, “I’ll try to keep it down.” A note of dry humour laces his voice, and as always, Essek’s heart lifts to hear it. They’ve gotten easier around each other, slowly but surely, and Caleb’s knife-sharp, often obscure wit is one of the greatest discoveries he’s made in the process.

Still, Essek’s concern isn’t assuaged. Caleb took a hard fall this evening - not so disastrous as to knock him out of the running, but ugly enough that Essek had ached in sympathy as Caleb picked himself up off the ice. If he isn’t bruised from calf to hip, which Essek quietly expects, he’s at least likely to have twisted something in his back from the awkward one-handed press he had to do, to get back on his feet in time for the next element.

“Did you stretch enough?” he asks. Caleb hums noncommittally, nose still pressed into his book, and Essek thinks back to the moments after Caleb’s routine finished. “I didn’t see Beau there this evening. Were resistance bands enough, or did someone else help you?” Again, there’s no answer except a grunt. Essek gets the sense he’s being purposefully ignored. “Caleb,” he says, more loudly. “Please tell me that you stretched.”

“Stop worrying,” Caleb says, flipping another page. “I did stretch.”

“Clearly not enough,” Essek chides, standing so he can better survey Caleb’s posture. Even prone on his stomach, he’s still favouring his right side. Not a good sign. “You need to take care of your body, or you’re going to injure yourself, permanently.”

Caleb shrugs. “I’m old, Essek - too old for this sport, according to most people. How much worse could it get?” A twinge of heat sparks in Essek’s stomach, something low but simmering to a boil, until his hands are clenched and his jaw clicks with the effort of not snapping.

“Worse,” he says, and at last, Caleb looks up. The rising frustration fades just as quickly as he clocks Caleb’s assessing gaze, and pivots to embarrassment at his own unguarded reaction.

They need to choose another subject, and soon is not quick enough.

“Just… will you let me help you? At least to work out the worst of it, before you fall asleep on that book and wake up with a cramp.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow. “You want to... help me stretch?”

Essek clucks his tongue at Caleb’s dubious tone. “I assure you, I’ve had many years of practice, and it’s always easier with a partner than with a band.”

Caleb’s gaze grows more distant, less like he’s looking at Essek, and more like he’s found a ghost at the edge of the room.

“...I know,” Caleb says, voice softer than before, but still, he doesn’t move from his place on the bed. Essek sits down on the other side, leaning closer, but not so close that his weight disturbs Caleb’s half of the sheets.

“Then let me help. It would set my mind at ease, at least.”

“Well,” says Caleb, with a small smile, still not quite meeting Essek’s eyes, “if it would set yours at ease… give me a few minutes.”

Caleb pushes himself up at last, closing the book while trailing a rather forlorn finger down its spine, as though saying a reluctant goodbye to an old friend. Then he walks to the hall between the two rooms of the suite, and begins jogging lightly in place.

Caleb’s warmup gives Essek plenty of time to consider his plan of action. He closely watches the muscles twist beneath Caleb’s long-sleeved tee and loose sweatpants, searching for a place to start. Pain in the lower back often stems from tightness of the hips, which is also one of the most difficult areas to stretch without help. Essek notices too that his shoulders still ride up to below his ears as he runs, creeping higher and higher with each footfall. That could use work, and maybe his obliques as well, if the side Caleb jarred today isn’t too bruised…

At last, Caleb finishes and returns, slightly more cherry-cheeked than before, but not huffing and puffing - just enough to get the muscles warm and limber.

“Show me what you usually do for cooldown,” Essek says, still seated on the bed, and Caleb launches into a series of standard stretches, ones that any skater has in their arsenal. Essek does notice the age difference between them as he watches, but not in a significant way. Caleb’s joints don’t bend with quite the same arc as they might have for a dancer ten years younger, but he’s still very flexible. His arabesque reaches past his head - though Essek notes a small tremor in the inside of his thigh as he holds the position, and there’s an unsteadiness there that concerns him. It could be hip tension, as he suspected before, but Essek worries-

But it’s one in a million chance, as it was for him. There’s no logical reason to believe the tremor is anything more than fatigue.

“That’s it,” Caleb says, rising back into a standing position after his final lunge. Essek presses his fingers to his lips, considering.

“Let’s start with your shoulders,” he suggests. “You have a good range of motion overall, but I’d like to loosen them up, the right one especially.”

He moves behind Caleb, bracing one hand on his left shoulder while placing a flat palm against the apple of the other, and begins to gently rock the joint in its socket.

It’s a position he’s quite accustomed to, having done the same for others on his team when he was far younger - back when he still had peers, rather than admirers. And yet, there’s something strangely more aware in coming back to the action as an adult. He feels the differences between his own body and Caleb’s keenly. Though Caleb is far from stocky - very few figure skaters are - the muscles beneath Essek’s hands are less lithe than his own. Broader, as though bred for a different purpose, and whittled down to their current lean shape. He wonders if Caleb grew up doing manual labour of some sort, a kind his body still remembers in form, if not in substance.

For the first few pushes it almost feels as though those muscles are getting tighter. Like Caleb is tensing, resisting the movement. Essek frowns.

“Breathe,” he instructs. Caleb, with effort, takes a deep breath, and the catching of the tendon finally releases with a soft click. The process goes much more smoothly after that, the joint sliding like butter in his palm by the end of the seventh rotation. He moves to the other side, and has no more issues.

As Essek steps away, Caleb swings his arms forward and back experimentally. “Better?”

“Much,” he says, smiling a surprised grin. “Thank you.” Essek nods.

“Of course.”

“Anything else?”

“Hips, I think, if that’s alright with you.”

He guides Caleb down to the floor and onto his back, and takes a position on his knees at his side. Though Caleb ordinarily has a few inches of height on him, from this position, he feels very high up. Caleb waits, motionless, as Essek hooks a hand under his knee and raises it up slowly, watching the microsmal twitches in Caleb’s expression for any sign of pain or discomfort as he pushes the leg up towards his chest. But Caleb’s eyes fall closed, and whatever resistance he had offered before, he lets Essek’s hands work now without any complaint, bodily or otherwise.

When he spies the first twinge in Caleb’s jaw, Essek slows his pace, but continues pressing, trusting his hands to feel when the resistance is too great. It’s a delicate balance; too little pressure, and the stretch does no good, but too much, and he risks injuring Caleb. He could strain muscles, even tear ligaments, if he’s not certain of how hard to push.

It requires a great deal of trust, he muses, to let someone do this for them. Since his days as a trainee, he has allowed few others to help him, unless they’ve proven themselves time and time again to understand the nuances of his own situation. Mirimm is one of the small number on that list, and his own mother, when she still had time for such things.

Who has Caleb - cautious, reserved Caleb - given such trust? He knows he’s seen Beau follow Caleb into the locker room at least once, so presumably her, but have there been others?

He presses one more inch. Caleb winces, but does not fight him. He remains perfectly still.

An awful, nauseating thought floats into Essek’s mind.

He lets the leg float gently down to the floor, bowing the knee out ever so slightly so that the joint has a chance to rotate, then removes his hands to his lap. Caleb cracks one eye open, looking up at Essek and raising an eyebrow, as if to say is something wrong?

Yes, Essek thinks, I’m afraid there might be.

“Caleb,” he says quietly. He does not want to ask this question. He must ask it. “Did… Did Ikithon ever-”

Both of Caleb’s eyes fly open.

“No,” Caleb says, the clipped syllable harsh, and it sounds believable, and Essek so wants to believe him. “Whatever you are thinking, no.”

Essek breathes out slowly. “Then this sort of thing-”

“I would not have done with him.” Caleb turns his head to the ceiling, staring up at the hospital-white plaster, and Essek is still very conscious of his height, so he leans back on his hands into an uncharacteristic slouch. “He was… he was not a hands-on sort of teacher, so to speak. He preferred to instruct, and trust the three of us to do as he asked.” Caleb falls silent for a moment. “With them, yes,” he says at last. “We did this sort of thing together, always.”

Astrid. Eodwulf. Names never to be forgotten, though Caleb has only spoken them aloud once. They are burned there, in Essek’s mind, along with every spare detail Caleb has told him of his past. He wishes, some nights, that he did not know. That he could exorcise the names from his memory, and the pain from Caleb’s as well. But at least the burden is shared between them now, and he has to believe that is better than the alternative.

Essek reaches out and pats Caleb’s ankle. “I’m sorry to bring it up,” he apologizes, and Caleb’s smile is acknowledging, and forgiving too. “Do you want to keep going?”

He’s gratified that Caleb seems to genuinely consider the question before answering. It gives him hope that he hasn’t, yet again, overstepped a line, one hidden beneath the layers of uncertainty between them he fears he’ll never fully unravel.

“I think so.” Caleb shifts his hips. “It was already feeling a little better.” He lifts his other leg, just slightly, and as Essek shifts around to take it in hand, he thinks again of trust. Of Caleb putting his body in his hands, believing he will treat it kindly, even when others have not. The warmth in his chest grows, and grows.

He presses down, and this time Caleb keeps his eyes open.

When Essek is satisfied that both hip flexors are as loose as they’re going to get without professional help, he asks Caleb to sit up, then kneels behind him. He leans his weight into the space between Caleb’s shoulder blades until Caleb bows, forehead touching his knees as he curls his arms beneath them. Already, Essek can see the difference in the fluidity of the movement from earlier, and he presses with his thumbs at various points of the lower back, pleased to discover that most of the tension there has been released. He guides Caleb back up, then prods at his upper back. The left side isn’t bad, but his right… Essek can barely go five inches without finding another knot.

This isn’t the result of a night or two of inadequate stretching after a competition. This is months, years worth of stress gnarled up beneath the skin and never adequately dealt with, if addressed at all. No wonder Caleb’s shoulders rise so high that the judges take off points for it. No wonder relaxing at all is a force of will. His body is wound so tightly that Essek barely needs to dig deeper than the surface to find the evidence.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a massage?” he asks, curious. Caleb’s incredulous little laugh ripples out beneath his palms.

“A very, very long time. That’s a kind of luxury I can’t usually afford.”

Essek wants to argue that it isn’t a luxury - that it is, in fact, essential to the proper functioning of a figure skater’s body. The benefits in terms of flexibility and mobility are incalculable. And yet, without sponsorships or other income, the calculation must be done.

How very far Caleb has managed to go, despite his lack of resources, continues to impress Essek, but scrappiness doesn’t equal a healthy body that will outlast the competitions to come.

“They have a spa here, downstairs,” Essek suggests. “It might be closed now, but I’m sure if I called the front desk-”

“No,” says Caleb, just as clipped, though his voice softens much more quickly than it did before. “Thank you. I don’t- it doesn’t appeal to me.”

“A massage?”

“The environment,” Caleb replies. “The table. All of it.” Essek doesn’t press for more details, sensing he’s hit upon another wall neither is eager to dismantle tonight. Caleb’s shoulders are already rising again beneath his hands. He smoothes them back down with his hands, not fully conscious of what he’s done until the motion is already complete.

“Would a bed be better?”

“What,” ask Caleb, glancing over at the bed, mere feet from where they currently sit on the carpet, “order up?” He chuckles again. “I think that you might have a harder time explaining that expense to your superiors than an extra plate of room service.”

“True.” It takes Essek far longer to offer the second suggestion, because even though he fully expects Caleb to refuse, he still has to work up the courage to speak it. “Or, I could try my hand?”

Caleb swivels, his face so close to Essek’s that his bangs tickle the tip of his nose. “...Oh?”

“I’m no professional, but I have some experience.” No need to explain more than that, about the hours spent frantically massaging his own legs in the bathroom, willing the cramps to release in time to make it onto the ice. He knows that he can coax a bitterly stubborn muscle into functioning, and Caleb’s would be far easier than his to manage.

And still, he’s nervous in the seconds after speaking - not for fear that he can’t do what he’s offered, but that Caleb will say no, and be upset or offended.

That he will say yes, and the place that leaves them.

“...Ok.”

Caleb stands, then turns back to Essek, who still kneels on the floor. His hands flutter nervously at the hemline of his shirt, first tugging up the fabric, and then letting it fall back down. “How do you- I’m not sure what the procedure is. What do you need me to do?”

Essek swallows, fighting down the lump of anxiety in his throat. He pushes himself to his feet, and tries hard to project his usual air of confidence, one he does not currently feel.

“It would be easiest if you took off your shirt - if you’re alright with that, of course. I have some oil in my bag.” He goes to fetch the bottle from the other room: massage is still an essential part of his travel regimine, and he keeps it with him at all times. By the time he returns to the bedroom, Caleb is still standing where he was before, but now barechested, clutching the discarded shirt in his hands. Essek pauses at the doorframe, momentarily caught off guard, then shakes himself and continues on.

“Lie on your front.” Caleb does, still watching Essek as he approaches from the corner of his eye, and the look in his eyes is apprehensive.

Essek can feel it too - the difference now. The tension in the air that wasn’t there before. What they did for the last fifteen minutes was accustomed. They’re both athletes, used to having their bodies maneuvered by others for very specific purposes. The practice of guided stretching, while still sensual in the more general sense, doesn’t carry the same implications for them as it might for those outside their world.

But as Essek sinks down onto the side of the bed, and as he ghosts his cool hand over Caleb’s skin and watches the goosebumps rise at his almost-touch… he realizes this is something different entirely, and that they’re both aware of it. Caleb turns his face into the mattress, out of embarrassment, maybe, Essek can’t quite tell, but he knows his own face is burning just as bright as the flush creeping down Caleb’s neck.

It’s intimate, to a degree that frightens Essek more than it excites him.

“A little closer,” he murmurs as he sets the bottle aside and warms a generous squeeze of oil between his palms. Caleb shuffles over far enough that their hips brush, and Essek leans forward and places his hands in the shallow plane between Caleb’s shoulders. The skin there is pale, and freckled, and he traces lines between the marks with his fingertips before running them down the length of Caleb’s spine with one smooth stroke.

Up and down, he moves his fingers through the hollow places of Caleb’s back lightly, not pressing yet. For now, his only aim is to warm the oil further, and to make sure Caleb is comfortable and relaxed. And that when he finally leans over and begins the massage in earnest, his heart will have calmed sufficiently that Caleb won’t be able to hear it beating through his skin.

It’s not as if they’ve never touched before. This is not their first kiss, nor even their first fumble in the dark. But it had been dark, those times. Here, in the dim glow of the lamps over each nightstand - here, in a hotel room only they share, with trays of food set aside and Caleb’s toothbrush by the bathroom sink - here, where he can’t pretend the depths of his feelings aren’t evident to anyone who would dare look - he can’t see Caleb’s face, but he can see his own hands, and what they’re doing, and how much he wants to keep doing it.

He wants this. He wants Caleb under his hands, breathing out slowly as Essek’s fingers find the hidden spots within him where pain festers, and begin to work in slow circles, drawing out gasps of discomfort as Essek presses deeper, and deeper, and deeper still. Caleb arches his back and he runs his other hand down his shoulder, comforting him in a way Essek wasn’t taught, but what he learned to do for himself, when his own agony became too great to bear. A muscle shudders beneath his knuckle, spasming involuntarily, and he watches chills run down the nape of Caleb’s neck: raised goosepimples of referred pain. He knows that sensation well. If one part aches, the whole of the body is affected. You might never be able to name the true source of the pain.

At last, the first knot loosens, and Essek eases off. Caleb visibly melts into the mattress as the pressure releases. “My apologies,” Essek whispers, and even so, his voice sounds too loud for the intimate space they’ve created in this room. “I’ll try to be gentler on the next one.”

“It’s alright,” mumbles Caleb. “I can take it.”

They’re not unaccustomed to pushing through pain, the two of them. One cannot be a figure skater and not learn how. One cannot have lived through what they have lived through, and not be an expert in the subject.

“Alright,” Essek says, “I’m starting again.”

He goes over each half of Caleb’s back in quadrants, feeling for the places where the muscles draw together and kneading the tension out. Each time, Caleb tenses, but as soon as the knot releases, his bones become looser, his body sinking deeper and deeper into the bed and his breath coming in slower intervals, and though at first every wince was followed by screwed-tight eyes and clenched fists, by the time Essek finds the last problem spot, his expression has slackened to something almost dreamlike.

“Caleb,” Essek murmurs. “Are you awake?”

“Mm,” Caleb hums. “Yes.” His voice is lower than Essek has ever heard it before.

“Shall I continue?”

Caleb hums again. “I wouldn’t complain.”

Essek smiles at that, adding a little more oil to his palms and returning to his earlier broad strokes. Caleb’s shoulder blades shift more freely under his hands now, the muscles relaxed and uninhibited. He raises the arm that lies closest to the bed’s edge experimentally, testing the range of motion and watching the way the shoulder glides easily in its socket. Encouraged by a tap on his side, Caleb shuffles a little more towards the bed’s edge, and Essek slides off it. He pulls Caleb’s wrist out until the ligaments are stretched to their fullest extent, then lays the arm back in place at his side. Ideally, he’d want to do the same for the other arm, but Caleb looks so peaceful now, half-asleep in the sheets, that Essek is reluctant to force him to reposition.

He’s not unaware of the scars exposed by their current situation, and no more so than in this moment, as he gazes down at the roughened brown and white patches in the space between wrist and elbow. He’s glimpsed them before, and he knows part of their story, can even guess at the rest. But not tonight. Not here. This isn’t the time for more questions. He doesn’t need to know more than that Caleb is with him, and that he trusts Essek enough to do this, despite his history.

Essek has caused his own share of hurt. He has done selfish things, with no other purpose than to advance his own career. He has been cruel, and uncaring, in order to achieve all he has in his life. But Caleb trusts him, and that is enough to make him desperate to live up to his expectations, unrealistic as they may be.

When he’s satisfied with the rest of the back, only the neck remains. Caleb’s hair is still pulled into the remnants of his elaborate show ponytail, but as usual, bits have begun to fall out. Essek sweeps aside what strands have caught in the oil, caught off guard by how soft it remains. Most skaters with hair as long as Caleb’s cake their hair in hairspray before competition, to prevent loose ends and flyaways. Even Essek’s hair, so carefully gelled at the beginning of the day, would likely crunch like fresh snow under another’s hands. But Caleb’s hair is loose, and just slightly curled at the ends, and for a moment, Essek’s mind flashes with a vision of pulling the tie fully free. Of running his fingernails against Caleb’s scalp, of feeling those auburn flames pour between his fingers, of leaning down and pressing his lips to the place below the ear where hair and skin meet and breathing deep of hotel soap and his own shampoo and Caleb-

He startles out of the daydream with a small hitch of breath. This is not what this is about, he reminds himself sternly. Essek panting after him like a schoolboy is not what Caleb needs. He may ache to try all things new and unexplored, all the things he never thought he would have the chance to experience, but he is, as always, in control of himself. He has to be, or it will all go wrong. In what way, he does not know; the things he fears are undefinable, but that does not make them less of a yoke around his neck.

Essek runs the pads of his thumbs along the spot where he’d just been imagining his own lips pressing, smoothing out a path to Caleb’s shoulders. He takes care not to let his other fingers encircle Caleb’s throat, and so they bat like moths around the empty air, without a place to land. Caleb arches up again, but this time the noise is pleased, rather than pained. Essek shifts his hips, reminding himself again that this is not the situation they’re in. That he cannot read too much into the sound. That he should never assume what Caleb has not explicitly agreed to.

There isn’t a part of the back before Essek left untouched by oil, though the lower parts are drying, leaving the skin tacky but still warm from friction. Essek does one last assessing stroke with the flat of his hands, and finds nothing remaining to fix. He sits back, and considers what to do next.

With Caleb on his stomach, there has been a safe screen of separation between the two until this point. Essek did not need to work hard to hide any reaction of his to the experience, other than in his voice. But there are still muscles on the front of Caleb’s shoulders to work, and an incomplete massage can be worse than no massage at all. He doesn’t want to leave anything tight enough to pull his back muscles out of alignment again.

But then Caleb may see him, and know.

Know what, again, he cannot say.

It takes a few taps on the shoulder to rouse Caleb from his comfortable state, and even then his words are slurred with pleasant doziness. “Do you need me to move?” he mumbles, before pressing his face back into the mattress.

“I’d like to finish your shoulders from the front, if that’s alright.” Caleb murmurs his assent, but makes no attempt to move from his current position. “You’ll… need to roll over. For me to continue.”

Caleb grumbles good-naturedly, but does manage to turn himself over, immediately flinging one hand over his eyes to block out the - thankfully, dim - light. Essek starts to reach for his wrist, meaning to maneuver it back down on the sheets, but after a moment of thinking, he instead reaches over and grabs a pillow from the other side of the bed. Essek tugs the pillowcase off and tosses the pillow itself to the floor, then folds the fabric neatly into a band, which he lays over Caleb’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Caleb murmurs, and another thrill goes through Essek’s body. He can see Caleb’s mouth moving now when he speaks, his lips that are slightly parted, soft and unconcerned as he breathes in and out, as his chest rises and falls with the same rhythm. Essek has never dared to look so long.

He chides himself again. Caleb is blind in his current state, and any unnecessary stares on Essek’s part are as good as leering in this context. This feeling, of towering over someone… it isn’t something to enjoy. He’s always relished the feeling of control, of being above the rest. But with Caleb, Essek is an equal, and so when he offers him control, Essek cannot take pride in having earned it. He can only fear betraying the trust he’s been given.

Essek starts again on the massage, letting the discomfort flow out of himself and into the motion of his hands. With every breath Caleb takes, his collarbone rises to meet Essek’s palms, and he bites the inside of his lip, and keeps his own breath steady, and his eyes focused on the task at hand. His body is a distraction, but one he is proficient at ignoring.

The front takes far less time than the back. Caleb is so loose by now that his muscles want to follow Essek’s lead, and do so without complaint. The only stir Caleb gives is when Essek’s hands stray too close to his windpipe, but even then it’s more a twitch than a flinch, and Caleb settles back down immediately into his previous boneless state once the fingers retreat.

Essek has kept his eyes in line until this point, but in a moment of weakness, he lets them wander down the expanse of Caleb’s chest - slim, but defined muscles, skin waxed smooth save for the trail of hair that runs past his navel, and there, yes - a bruise along his side, as ugly as Essek expected, but already beginning to yellow at the edges. He carefully avoids it as he runs his hands down Caleb’s sides, drawing trails of oil like paint strokes all the way to his hips, just shy of the band of his sweatpants. Caleb shivers, and that’s when Essek notices, though he tried so carefully not to put himself in the position to.

Caleb is hard. The bulge isn’t obscene, but noticeable, and impossible to ignore, once Essek makes the realization. His mouth goes dry, hands stuttering to a stop halfway back to Caleb’s shoulders.

Of course, he knew it was a possibility, that Caleb might be affected in the same way… touch is a powerful thing, even absent of desire, and he knows that Caleb does desire him, at least under some circumstances…

“Are we finished?” Caleb asks without moving his head, sounding regretful, but not displeased.

He must be aware of it. How could he not be, of his own state? But he hasn’t said anything. Hasn’t made any effort to hide it, or to call Essek’s attention to it, as though he’s simply unbothered whether Essek knows or not.

What courage that must be - to accept that others see you, without any shame.

He… he wants to find that courage as well.

Essek reaches up with one hand and removes the folded pillowcase from Caleb’s forehead. Bleary blue eyes squint up at him, half lidded against the light. The other hand, he moves to the sharp bone of Caleb’s hip, fingertips just skimming the edge of the bruise, and then the place where Caleb’s waistband pulls away from his skin. He waits until he’s sure Caleb is looking at him before he speaks.

“Do you want me to go lower?”

He brushes his fingertips again at Caleb’s waistband, so that his meaning is clear. And even still, he hesitates to do it, unsure he’ll be able to go through with the offer, regardless of Caleb’s reply.

He is still so uncertain, about so many things.

“...I wouldn’t complain,” Caleb says, echoing his previous words with a wry smile. It’s that smile, that humour, that utter expression of ease... he only realizes in hindsight, that that was the only thing that would have convinced him to move forward. The only way he would have been alright with it.

“A word, and I will stop.”

“I know.” Caleb’s eyes have already begun to drift closed again, but they open once more when Essek taps him on the shoulder.

“And still, I’ll say it again. A word.”

Caleb’s humoured smile shifts to something softer, almost fond, and he lifts one hand to cover Essek’s and pats it gently.

“I know my limits. You can trust me to say how much is too much. Right now, I am happy for more.”

“...Then I’m happy to give it.”

Moving to Caleb’s other side so he can recline on the bed as well rather than perch at the edge of it, Essek gathers what oil hasn’t yet dried on Caleb’s skin in one hand and reaches down past the waistband, fingers grazing through a thicket of coarse hair before settling on heated flesh. Essek draws Caleb out, grateful that his eyes are closed, so he can’t see the full extent of Essek’s embarrassment. His experiences prior to Caleb had been… limited - which is to say, non-existent - and even if this is not the first thing they’ve done together, he still finds himself impossibly shy, when it comes to it. For lack of anything else to concentrate on, he returns again to Caleb’s hair, leaning forward on one elbow to touch the tresses spooled across the pillow, as his other hand begins to move up and down.

Some of the curled tips are still damp with oil, but most of it is dry, and fans out in a beautiful array of red and copper highlights. He follows their path to the crown of Caleb’s head, where his bangs are swept to one side, not hanging over his eyes. Though his other hand is on Caleb, he’s still seized with the impossible, unfullfillable urge to touch. To be closer than they are, closer than they could ever possibly be. He threads his fingers into the hair around Caleb’s forehead, dragging his nails gently against the scalp, and Caleb tilts his head back into Essek’s hand.

Caleb’s lips part, but his breathing isn’t ragged or hurried. It’s still slow and relaxed, if a little heavier than before. His eyes are closed, but not held shut tight. His shoulders stay where they are, content to remain immovable after Essek’s ministrations, and his mouth still holds a little smile at the edges, and his face, a softness, like what Essek is doing is just another part of the massage.

The atmosphere isn’t even particularly erotic, Essek realizes, and realizes too that the lack of gravity in Caleb’s response is settling his own nerves. There are no shouts of ecstacy or scrambling hands, no open mouthed devouring kisses, or desperation, or even lust. Just… comfort. Just pleasure, without expectation of rapturous release. Just being together, in this way, because they want to be. Because it feels good to be.

Caleb’s shoulders only begin to tense near the end, and even then it’s easy to coax them back down, so that when the final moment comes it’s with a long, slow exhale, and a body more relaxed than before. Essek’s right hand stills, but his left keeps on stroking Caleb’s hair, until at last Caleb’s eyes open.

“I’m very tired,” is the first thing he says.

“I can tell,” Essek replies fondly, then lowers himself down to the mattress, so that they’re at eye level when Caleb turns his head to him.

“That was wonderful.” Caleb smirks. “You have been holding back your skills from me. What else are you hiding, I wonder.” Essek chuckles softly, and Caleb nudges forward and presses a tender kiss to his mouth. “I should treat you as well, hm?”

Caleb turns his body to Essek, reaching down between them to tease at the drawstring of Essek’s leggings before hooking his fingers into the waistband and beginning to slide them over-

Essek jerks to the side, catching Caleb’s hand before it can go any father.

The lights. The lights are still on, and Caleb will see-

“Essek?” Caleb asks, eyes confused.

“You should relax. You said you were tired,” Essek says, and Caleb shakes his head, and begins to move his hand again.

“I’m happy to-”

“Don’t.”

Caleb stops this time for good, and Essek sits up quickly, pulling at his waistband to make sure not a single inch of skin is showing.

“Essek-”

“I trusted you to know your limits. Trust me to know my own.”

There’s nothing but silence for as long as Essek can bear to look away, and when he finally turns to look at Caleb once more, he expects to find frustration in his eyes, or annoyance at Essek for having soured the mood.

Instead, Caleb’s expression is one of quiet understanding.

“Of course,” he says, and sits up too, so they’re at eye level again.

He wants to apologize, but can’t bring himself to, so he sits there, staring at the floor and saying nothing.

At last, Caleb gets off the bed.

“I should shower again, get cleaned off.”

Essek nods, eyes still on the carpet, until his vision fills with the sight of a kneeling Caleb, his face impossibly close.

“Thank you,” he says, “for telling me.” Caleb cups his chin and leans forward, kissing Essek gently on the cheek. The ice in his bloodstream begins to thaw, in slow waves. “Take some time for yourself. I’ll come to bed soon.”

Then he’s gone, and Essek stares off at the light from under the bathroom door for a good few minutes before folding over onto the mattress. The heat of Caleb’s body hasn’t yet faded, and Essek curls into the warm spot where he lay, and pulls the sheets over his shoulders.

He lets the tactile comforts that remain - the smell of oil, the warmth of the blankets, the sound of running water - seep into every part of him, and waits for Caleb to return.

#critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #essek week #ice skating au #my writing #this was both very fun and very stressful to write #it's definitely outside my comfort zone #but im happy with how it came out

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qrowbang2020 · 4 years

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First things first, what is the Qrow Bang?

The Qrow Bang is an exchange of art/fic exchange of fanworks for Qrow Branwen from the RoosterTeeth’s show Rwby.

Are fics going to be based off prompts?

Nope! You get to decide what your fic is about! It can be AU, canon compliant, whatever you want!

Are any characters/ships welcome?

All ships and characters are welcome. However, the main ship needs to include Qrow.

What about ratings? Is there anything that cannot be written about?

All ratings are welcome! However, minors are only allowed to create for fics and art that are rated T or lower.

Incest and pedophilia ships are not allowed (this includes Ruby/Qrow). Any stories/art featuring either of these elements will not be accepted. If there are any ships that you’re not sure meet this criteria, please ask!

Minors in explicit situations is not allowed.

Other than that, sensitive topics like mental illness, eating disorders, real-life tragedies, main character death, strong kinks are accepted as long as the author warns properly and is tactful to others.

Participation Info:

Writers:

* Fics must be 5000 words minimum. There is no maximum limit.

* All fics must be beta-read. If you already have a beta, you can use them but if you don’t and are unable to find one, message me or post in the discord for help finding one! I’m hoping to put together a spreadshit of people who have volunteered to beta that I can send to people!

* The fic can be a WIP or a brand new idea. It needs to be a stand alone which means it needs to be a complete story.

* If your artists drops out, you will be sent a pinch hitter if one is available. The exception being if you have more than one artist.

* In order to keep things anonymous before claims, do not disclose any part of your fic outside of the designated discord channel before you have been paired with your artist. After claims have been complete, you can discuss it wherever (especially with your artist(s) lol).

* Before claims open, you will be asked to fill out a form summarizing your fic so artists can view and claim them. This includes a title, tags, rating, and summary. The summary must be completely SFW even if your fic is not.

* You will be able to pick your posting date. Submission will be due on the day you pick.

Co-writers:

* A maximum of two writers can co-write a fic.

* Your fic must be a minimum of 7,000 words.

Artists:

* Artists must complete at least one work for their claimed fic.

* Any type of art that can be posted online is eligible. This includes visual art (such as digital or traditional art, comics, manips, picspams, photosets, and gifs), audio-based art (such as podfics, playlists, or fan videos) or physical crafts that can be photographed and posted online.

* During claims, Artists can choose up to five fics. Any fic can have up to 3 artists. You may not choose your own fic.

* Before this, all artists will receive a link to a spreadsheet with all the information for the eligible fics as well as a link to a form to fill out your claims.

* Once artists and writers have been matched up, you will be sent an email with contact information for your writer(s). Claims are in a first come, first serve basis.

Pinch-Hitters:

* Pinch Hitters are artists that take on extra assignments to make sure all the Writers have some art for their fic. You don’t have to have signed on as an Artist to be a Pinch Hitter. Pinch Hitter sign-ups are always open! If you did sign up as an Artist, you can claim extra fics to art for by being a Pinch Hitter.

* If a fic doesn’t have at least one artist claim it or has its only artist drop out, a call for Pinch Hitters will be sent out, so keep an eye out on your email!

Betas:

* Betas assist writers in many different ways: checking spelling and grammar (SPAG), checking continuity, fact checking, and cheering writers on.

* All fics should be beta’d, at least checked for SPAG. Writers can come in with their own Beta or can find a Beta inside the Bang.

* We expect a surplus of Betas to Writers, so don’t be surprised if you don’t personally help a Writer. We still welcome you on board to cheer our Writers and Artists!

Discord:

Discord is a great place to discuss your fic/art with the other writers/artists! However, there are rules that need to be followed and failure to do so will result in you getting kicked out from the discord and potentially banned from the Bang.

Minors:

If you are under 18, you may still join the Bang! Please note that if you are under the age of 18 you must not complete, view, or interact with, any content over the T rating.

If we find that you as a minor have misrepresented your age on any forms, produced explicit fic, or claimed explicit fic, you will be removed from the Bang completely.

Contact Info:

If you have any questions or concerns, please contact me on tumblr, discord, or email! Please me email me at [email protected]

My main tumblr is @thatsclassicsbaby (I’m shadowbanned rip)

#qrowbang2020

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blkmxrvel · 5 years

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Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (13) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

A/N: Expect more updates with this fic as I continue to drag my feet on all my other requests and ideas lmaO. I just need to get back into the habit and find the motivation for it.

Kara drummed her fingers soundlessly on the table in front of her and checked her watch again for what must have been the hundredth time. The hands seemed to have moved only mere centimeters in the last hour that she’d been sitting in the coffee shop, and she wondered if her entire life would be made up of this. Checking her watch. Glancing worriedly at the pedestrians outside the window. Waiting for Y/N. It was absurd to get to the coffee shop so early, but Kara hadn’t been able to focus on anything at home after waking up. On the phone the night before, she’d asked Y/N to meet her here, and she could hear the fear and uncertainty in Y/N’s voice over the connection even as the girl had said yes. And so Kara was worried, because Y/N was nervous and Krypton was in the middle of town, accessible by only bus or taxi. She’d wanted, Kara had thought as she’d hung up the phone last night and tried to sleep, to tell Y/N not to have Nia bring her, but that wasn’t her instruction to give, and if it made Y/N feel less ill at ease she could have Nia drive her anywhere she wanted. Plus she’d had a good reason for asking Y/N to meet her here, in town. She knew that Y/N would likely never want to venture out on her own, but if it meant seeing Kara? Arrogant, maybe, Kara thought, but then again it might also be the gentle push the girl needed, one step out of her comfort zone into the amazing world that awaited her. Kara felt a little foolish, too, with the knowledge that Y/N wasn’t the only one nervous. It was silly, really, but it was one of the first lessons she’d learned during her Social Interactions class at National City Academy: even Dominants had butterflies in their stomachs. Apparently Kara’s butterflies were pissed that they’d had to stay in their cocoons so long, and now they were in joyous overdrive. She’d spent half the morning in the bathroom trying to ready herself, so long that Theo had just plopped on the cold tile floor with a long-suffering sigh, and fell asleep. She’d just wanted to look nice, to make sure her hair and makeup were perfect. All of the contents of her closet had been thrown on her bed as Kara had tried to decide between sexy Dominant-government worker-chic, or simple this-is-not-a-date-or-is-it casual. She’d decided on casual, but added her favorite pair of black heels to the blue jeans and black tank top ensemble. She knew she looked nice, but still Kara kept tucking a loose curl behind her ear only to pull it back out again, chewing her lower lip as she watched out the window next to her, searching for any sign of Y/N. She hadn’t been this nervous since she’d first showed up on Lena’s doorstep when she was seventeen.

Kara’s visit with her former Domme and lover had been just what she’d needed to regain perspective, as always. Their dynamic after Kara’s week of training as a teenager had been a strange one, and it still perplexed Kara that even now Lena could, for the most part, make her obey and listen with a simple word, a shift in the inflection of her voice. It annoyed her to a certain extent, but at the same time every now and then she wanted to get lost in the safety, in the chance to let go of the worries of her everyday life, if even for just a couple of minutes. But she liked the moments when they could connect as equals, more than anything else she and Lena had ever shared. It had been good, to sit and “share notes,” as it were, and for Lena to smile at Kara and say, even as she cautioned her against moving too quickly, that she was proud of her for wanting to work so hard with Y/N. Even Dominants like to have someone proud of them. At 12:15, Kara’s attention was caught by a taxi pulling up outside the coffee shop. She sat up in her chair when the taxi door opened and a Y/H/C haired girl with hazel eyes stepped out on uncertain feet. She smiled a little when Y/N started towards the door of the coffee shop, only to be called back by the driver. She watched as Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out money, pressing it into the driver’s hand. She moved towards the door, and Kara couldn’t help but chuckle as yet again Y/N was called back to the taxi, this time to collect her change. There was no trace of the wheelchair, and by the time Y/N made her way into the coffee shop, relief flooding her face at the first sight of Kara, the submissive met her standing. And perhaps it was too soon, perhaps they should have shunned any kind of physical contact because of the situation they had found themselves in, but their arms folded around each other and Kara smoothed her hand over Y/N’s back, feeling the girl’s trembling flow strength into her. She held herself straight and solid as Y/N’s face nestled into her neck, and Kara squeezed her gently. Finally she pulled away, holding Y/N at arm’s length to look at her. The first thing she noticed was how rested Y/N seemed; her face didn’t have the same thin, exhausted look of the first day they’d met, and Kara was glad. She’d checked in with Nia, who had said that Y/N was most definitely not sleeping in the floor or at the foot of the bed, and that in fact she was a bit of a blanket hog, having had shyly asked for two extra ones. Two extra blankets, for a girl who’d previously had none. Ugh, she really had to get this urge to cry under control, Kara thought. So she settled for smiling awkwardly. “Hi,” she said, and was glad when she and Y/N shared a quiet giggle, because honestly they must look ridiculous to the other patrons, two women clinging to each other in the middle of a coffee shop. “How was the taxi drive?” The other thing she noticed was, once again, just how pretty Y/N was. With the rested expression of her face came a certain sparkle in her eyes, that matched the light green tee-shirt she wore (and Kara smirked a little, proud at having picked that out) atop a pair of grey pants. Her hair was clean, shining and mango-scented, and Kara didn’t know that the first time Y/N had used the shampoo at Nia’s, she’d closed her eyes as the perfume took over the steam-filled bathroom. She didn’t know that Y/N had leaned against the shower, comforted, and thought of her. Y/N smiled, her eyes lighting up with a little bit of something Kara hadn’t seen before, something a little like… pride. “I didn’t think I could do it,” she said, “But I did. Even if I did forget about the money.” She flushed pink and bit her lip. “Did you never go out when you were younger, before James?” The words left her mouth before Kara even had a chance to think that maybe it wasn’t a question she should be asking. There was just so much about Y/N she was realizing she didn’t even know. Luckily for her, Y/N didn’t seem angry, just startled and regretful. “I went with my dad and mom to a few parties, and my grandfather used to take me out sometimes,” she said, a faraway expression on her face. “But we always had our own cars and after a while…” She paused, and Kara noticed the slight shiver. “Well, you know. After a while there wasn’t any need for me to go anywhere.” Kara nodded, and then said, hoping to bring a smile to the girl, “Why don’t we get that coffee now?” She purposely hung back, letting Y/N go up to the counter first. Y/N looked back at her like a deer in the headlights, all wide-eyed and staring, and Kara smiled. Y/N glanced up at the menu. Kara caught the barista rolling her eyes and looking bored; Kara waited until she had caught her gaze and glared at her. Immediately the barista stood up patiently; Kara smirked. “I think I’ll have that tea with the cinnamon… the chai,” Y/N finally said. The barista nodded and moved to charge the order, only for Y/N to stop her. “Wait, wait. And… a cookie! One of those chocolate chip ones.” Y/N pointed to the little glass case. “Not that one, there’s not enough chocolate. That one… yes. That one. Please.” Standing behind her, Kara laughed. Y/N turned to her after paying the barista, looking a little hurt, and Kara shook her head. Placing her hand on Y/N’s arm, she said, “Do you realize you just asked for exactly what you wanted? Not only that, but you knew exactly what you wanted?” Y/N flushed an even deeper shade of pink, her hands trembling only slightly as she clutched the cookie in its little paper wrapper. “I… really like chocolate.” Kara smiled and moved to place her own order. “One salted caramel mocha, please.” She paid the barista, and then looked back at Y/N. “And I really like you.” Y/N’s mouth dropped open a little and Kara cleared her throat, feeling the heat rise to her cheek as she and the girl collected their drinks then sat back at the table where Kara had been waiting before. Had she just… flirted? Yes, yes she had, Kara decided, and felt like slapping herself. This was not what she was supposed to be doing. But then Y/N offered a quiet “I like you, too,” and Kara thought they were four of the most beautiful – and also confusing – words she’d ever heard. “Do you really?” Y/N tilted her head. “Yes? I thought that was obvious, d-did I say something wrong, Miss Kara?” “No, no,” Kara hastened to reassure her, taking a deep sip of her drink and sighing happily. “I just meant, well… I wasn’t sure you liked girls.” It was probably a dumb thing to say; after all, hadn’t Y/N kissed her? But for Kara, it all went back to the fact that Y/N wasn’t ready for a relationship – of any kind. Did Y/N kiss her because she liked her, or because she didn’t want to be alone? Still, the atmosphere around them was suddenly uncomfortable that Kara wondered if she’d messed everything up. “I was promised to a boy,” Y/N finally said, softly, not looking at Kara but out of the window at the passersby. Her fingers traced the ridges of the sleeve wrapped around her coffee cup, almost reverently, as if she was touching the farthest reaches of her memory – and telling herself it was okay. “I was promised to a boy, and even if I had told my parents that…” Y/N took a deep breath and looked at Kara, hazel eyes meeting Kara’s brown ones measure for measure. “Even if I had told them that when I was out with my grandfather I was always looking at the-the mistress who had a girl, and w-wondering what it would be like to be that girl, to be able to hug and kiss and love my Dominant…” Y/N shook her head. “My female Dominant… it wouldn’t have mattered. Girls in my family weren’t allowed to like girls, and even if we were, I was promised to a boy. So I didn’t tell.” “That must have been lonely for you,” Kara said gently. Y/N smiled a little wryly. “I like girls, Miss Kara. I like you.” It didn’t escape Kara’s notice that Y/N hadn’t really answered her observation; still, it wasn’t as if it was brand-new information. From what little details Kara had gleaned from Y/N, her life had been lonely. Her grandfather was apparently the only bright spot, and that had been ripped away from her far too soon. It made Kara’s heart ache. “What about you?” Kara looked up. “Me?” Y/N nodded. “What about you? I-I mean I think I know you like girls, and I know… some other things.” “Oh really?” Kara teased, one eyebrow raised. “And just what do you know about me?” Y/N tilted her head, thinking. “I know apple slices are your favorite snack. I know that Funny Girl is your favorite musical. You have two fathers; you have a dog named Theo. You were in the choir in high school and everyone always got angry with you because you didn’t like to share your solos. You love to sing more than anything and you should be in New York right now but one of your parents got sick and so you choose to stay in National City and work for the government so you could be near him. I know that you love to cook, and your kitchen is to die for, and I know that you can't ever fit your legs into jeans because you're too tall, which is adorable.” “Hey!” Kara said, but she was grinning. There was a peculiar feeling in her chest, listening to Y/N rattle off everything. “You um… you really did listen to me while I was talking to you,” she said in a tone of wonder. “Even when you weren’t talking back to me, you listened.” Y/N smiled, a genuine one this time, as she finished off her tea and slid the empty cup off to the side. “I should get another one of those,” she remarked, then said to Kara, “I listened. I-I didn’t understand why this noisy giant wearing argyle wanted to talk to me but… I listened.” “You’re one of the few people who do,” Kara admitted, not even bothering to feel affronted at “noisy giant.” “Between my parents, Alex, and Lena, no one made it a habit to listen to me all that much.” The cookie stilled on its way to Y/N’s mouth. “Lena?” … crap. That wasn’t really the way Kara had intended to bring her up. “She’s my former Domme,” Kara said carefully. “A-and by that I mean… when I was seventeen years old part of my Dominant training was to submit for a week. Lena was the one chosen by my fathers for that week.” “O-oh.” Y/N’s voice was quiet. “And…” Kara wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do, but she knew that no relationship – friendship or otherwise – could stand if it wasn’t based on honesty. “We were lovers.” She watched Y/N’s face suddenly become pinched and sharp, and Kara sighed inwardly. She knew how it must sound, how it must seem. But there wasn’t much that Kara could say; it had happened, starting when she was 18 and lasting only two years. But it had been enough to establish a lasting connection, one that she wouldn’t readily let go of. “We’re not together anymore,” Kara explained, hoping that bit of information would erase that look from Y/N’s face. “It would have never worked as an actual relationship; we’re both far too dominant for that to have been healthy. But she’s a very good friend, and a very important part of my life.” The last part was firm, a statement and not a request. She didn’t know where her relationship with Y/N was going to go, but Y/N needed to know that Kara’s with Lena wasn’t going anywhere. Y/N nodded; when she spoke, she sounded uncertain. “Is there anyone else you want to tell me about, Miss Kara? In your past or… n-now?” Kara smiled a little at the girl’s fear. “No, sweetheart,” she said gently. “There’s no one.” Y/N’s next reaction stunned her. She sat up straight in her chair and looked at Kara. “Good,” she said resolutely. Kara raised her eyebrow again. She’d thought Y/N was uncertain and nervous, but… was she… jealous? Judging by the light blush that crept over her cheeks, Kara had to fight back the urge to giggle. Yes. She was jealous. It was cute, really; with anyone else Kara probably would have bristled at the possessiveness. She was a Dominant, after all; no one could tell her what she was allowed to do or who she was allowed to see. But from Y/N… it felt secure. It felt good. It felt… almost as if she was claimed. Kara nearly rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it, but was stopped by Y/N asking her a question. “You have two dads… you’re adopted?” It wasn’t an unexpected question, even if it did startle her a little bit. But it was nice, knowing that Y/N was taking an interest in her – even nicer than that she’d remembered Funny Girl was her favorite musical. She couldn’t even get Alex to remember that, though she suspected it wasn’t that she didn’t remember, she just pretended to forget every time movie night rolled around. Kara finished up the last of her coffee, keeping her eyes on Y/N as she explained. Cat Grant had also been promised to a boy at birth, but theirs was actually a successful, loving match. They complemented each other, yet another one of those couples that would grow old and grey together and probably would pass away minutes apart, because neither one of them would be able to bear living without the other. Cat and her Dominant were content in their life, in their nice home and their comfortable jobs, in their love. Kara had been an accident. Cat’s Dominant worked with Kara’s father Leroy, and when he had come in one day upset and concerned over how he and his submissive would care for a child that they’d never intended to have, Leroy had offered them a suggestion. He and Hiram had been discussing having a child for months, and were just about to initiate the adoption process. If, Leroy suggested, Cat and her Dominant decided to give up the baby, perhaps Leroy and Hiram might be considered as fathers. “They had dinner together a few times,” Kara said, watching Y/N for any kind of negative reaction. Even in a society such as theirs where same-sex attraction was valued, there were always a few who longed for things to go back to “the way they were.” And given Y/N’s family… Kara shook it off and continued. “Eventually Cat and her Dominant decided that the best thing would be for me to be adopted. I’m so glad they chose my daddies.” Y/N smiled. “I’d like to meet them sometime,” she said softly. “Maybe you will,” Kara said, trying to stave off the wave of euphoria that coursed through her at the girl’s words. “Did you ever meet Cat and your father?” Kara winced and glanced at the window. It was rush-hour now; had she and Y/N been sitting at the coffee shop that long, just talking? It had only seemed like a few minutes. “Once,” she said, her voice thick with hurt. “I think Cat regretted it, and so she found me. But when it turned out that I was a grown woman and not her baby…” She shrugged, laughing a little to play it off. “I haven’t heard from her in a few years.” “Her loss, Miss Kara,” Y/N said, reaching out to grasp her hand and squeeze it. Kara squeezed back, but frowned a little. “Y/N, I need you to do something for me.” She saw it, even as she was sure Y/N hadn’t known she was doing it. The tension that suddenly flowed into her body, the stiff way she sat in her chair. It was as if every muscle, every emotion in Y/N’s body was on high alert, even as she said “What, Miss Kara?” Kara sighed inwardly. “I need you to stop calling me Miss Kara. I want you to just call me Kara.” Y/N turned white, and immediately Kara felt alarmed. The woman across from her clutched the edge of the table with both hands, as if she was trying to hold on for fear of drowning in whatever was rushing through her head at the moment. “Y/N?” “Why?” “Because I’m not your Dominant,” Kara said, wondering why it needed to be explained. Still, she kept the irritation out of her tone, because it was Y/N, and the last thing she wanted to do was upset her any more than she already seemed to be. “I’m not your Dominant, and you and I are on equal footing right now, Y/N. You’re not a submissive, you’re not claimed, and there is no reason why you and I should not meet on common ground, without any terms of respect necessary.” “No.” Kara stared in shock. “Excuse me?” She said with a blink, unable to keep the slight edge from her voice. There was a terrified look in Y/N’s eyes at Kara’s reaction, and she hastened to comfort her, but Y/N spoke first. “I am a submissive,” she said, her voice wavering so that Kara had to lean forward and listen close to understand her. “I-I am unclaimed, but I’m still who I am.” Y/N shook her head and Kara’s heart dropped to see tears dotting her eyelashes. “Everything… everything is gone,” Y/N added quietly. “My routines, my schedules, my life, my- my Sir, even though…” She trailed off and shook her head again. “Everything’s gone, and I need to have… you have to give me that. At least that. Please, Kara.” Y/N looked sick with the inflection she gave Kara’s name, as if she felt like she’d just broken some hallowed rule that had left her damned where she sat, and Kara’s best intentions went flying out the window into the warm National City afternoon as she reached out and covered Y/N’s hand with her own. “All right,” she said softly, and the relief was palpable. “All right.” “Thank you,” Y/N said as she turned her hand over and locked her fingers with Kara’s. They sat there in the coffee shop, holding hands, until Kara noticed that the barista was putting the chairs up to prepare for closing, and once again she marveled at how easily time passed when she was with Y/N. Pulling her hand away from the woman despite the disappointment she felt, she smiled at her. “Would you like to walk with me a little ways before you take the taxi back home?” Y/N nodded. “Back to Nia’s.” The emphasis was clear, and Kara’s smile faded a little. “Back to Nia’s,” she repeated, and held the door open for Y/N, who grinned at her surprise. “Chivalry is not dead, even among Dominants,” Kara teased. Y/N giggled. “And yet I always imagined myself as the knight,” she said, looking at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Forever in the service of my lady, completely devoted, needing nothing but her banner, her claim.” Kara swallowed, scarcely able to breathe at the sudden rush of heat. “Y-you would make a very good knight,” she finally said, adding, “You would certainly look smashing in the armor.” Y/N’s loud burst of laughter was like music to Kara’s ears as they walked along downtown National City. She watched as Y/N looked up at the sky, and sighed happily. “I love it here,” she said, “Outside. I love the birds.” “The birds?” Kara asked. She smiled to herself as Y/N told her of the day before, wheeling herself to therapy and then outside on the grass with Maggie. How she had marveled at and envied the birds, at the freedom they had to fly anywhere and everywhere. But yet they always chose to come back home, because what awaited them was far better than anything anywhere else. “I want to be like that, Miss Kara,” Y/N stated, glancing at Kara. “I want to know that I can be free if I want it, but I don’t want it because what’s waiting for me at home is so much better.” It was so much that Kara couldn’t help but stop and turn to Y/N to hug her, to hold her close. “You’ll find your home,” she whispered into Y/N’s ear. “I promise you, Y/N, someday you’ll find your home.” And as Y/N dared to kiss her cheek and both of them separated, blushing, Kara was becoming even more aware of just where she wanted Y/N’s home to be.

#kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #sueprgirl x reader #kara danvers imagine #supergirl imagine #iconicwlw #madi writes #converted fic

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happyorogeny · 6 years

Text

The Gossip Chapter 5

(Read the full story here!)

(~3000 words)(Illidan, Kaelthas, Maiev, Rommath)(violence, poison)

“You do realize I have to protest this on every conceivable level, yes?” Rommath sounded irate even as he helped Kael’thas pack, plucking a crumpled raincloak from the bottom of Kael’s saddlebag and refolding it into a small cube.

“I would expect nothing less.” He frowned in concentration, wedging a mana crystal between pairs of socks. “I truly hoped we could have more time. But I need you here.”

He hadn’t an intention of dragging his barely-recovered friend into the wilds. Rom could barely climb a stairs at the moment, never mind a mountain. But he could stare down anyone who tried to cause trouble and bully folk into submission by sheer force of personality. Kael’thas had oft relied on Rom’s influence to manage his small court in Dalaran, back when true leadership had seemed a long way off.

How simple that seemed now, how frivolous. But it had had its uses. It was one thing to learn how to read a room at his father’s knee, another indeed to do it alone without the protection and respect afforded to the king. He’d learned how to determine interpersonal politics, personal agendas and family hierarchy with a glance while Rommath’s rather intense presence served as a distraction.

The lessons of Dalaran and Silvermoon translated across time and worlds. Despite Illidan’s distant behavior he was as a stabilizing force for the factions of the Temple. No one wanted to directly challenge the person who’d subdued Magtheridon. His status as a formidable fighter and powerful sorcerer intimidated those who might otherwise try to create trouble and dissent. Akama’s antics in the inner sanctum had made this abundantly clear.

Kael’thas had absolutely no desire to defuse an orc uprising or joust the more aggressive members of his own cabinet, those whose pride ached at being beholden to anyone but themselves.

He had worked swiftly to ensure such mutterings grew no greater. The courtesans of the Den were loyal to him and kept an ear out with whispers of dissent, while his frequent soirees gave no one the opportunity to speak without either he, Lady Vashj or Illidan in the room. Letting the nobles interact without oversight was how a monarchy ended.

With Illidan gone the malcontents amongst them would start to do more than talk.

With Kael’thas gone, they would grow very brave indeed.

When they first came to Outland it had taken him, Lady Vashj and a number of soldiers together to rescue Illidan. But now they simply didn’t have time. It took precious minutes to scramble together soldiers, minutes for them to prepare, hours to fly towards Illidan. The Sin’dorei soldiers relied on griffons for transport and though they were fine creatures they were limited by mortal bone and muscle.

Al’ar suffered no such deficits, a creature of elemental flame and supernatural speed. Without the need to restrain herself for weaker flyers she could cover the distance with due haste. More importantly, the yet-rumbling storm allowed them to leave with a comparable lack of fanfare. A man and a phoenix were far less conspicuous than a whole heavily armed unit of magi and warriors.

It was to Rommath’s credit that he understood this enough to not try and argue Kael out of it.

“I will send Kayn and his fighters after you. Leave signs of your presence that they might track you and at least try to be careful!”

Rommath wedged jerky into the emergency pockets of Kael’thas cloak as he spoke. Despite the panic of the situation and the speed it required, Kael grabbed his hand.

“Is that Farstrider jerky?”

“No!”

“It is!”

For all his teasing, he seethed within. Illidan had put them in a precarious position for the sake of one demon!

But he would be a liar if he said there wasn’t a small part of him excited. Reckless as it was, dangerous, it was liberating indeed to go anonymously rather than as Prince Sunstrider.

He chided himself as they descended into one of the more secluded courtyards. He couldn’t treat this as an adventure when he was flying right into the teeth of danger. Maiev had almost gutted him last they fought, slipped through magic and his guard alike as easily as a shadow. It wasn’t by luck that she had captured Illidan so many times, it wasn’t luck that she could hold her own against magic and steel alike.

Rommath conjured a rain shield over them as Kael’thas summoned Al’ar into being. The phoenix was indignant as he reached out to her through their shared magic. She metaphysically snapped at his fingers and tucked her head beneath her wing, sulking. Only with much coaxing did she deign to manifest.

Al’ar landed feet first as any bird upon her perch, and the cobblestones of the courtyard were abruptly wreathed in steam as talons the length of his forearm touched down. She seemed to materialize out of the very air, appearing as two immense golden eyes framed a heartbeat later by a ruby shadow.

All at once as a solid creature loomed over them, massive wings curled so as to fit within the courtyard walls. The rain hissed and dissolved away upon contact with her plumage, glowing with the gentle undulating light of a bed of embers. He reached out, humming soothingly.

No wonder she was grumpy with him. It had been a long time since they’d flown together. He simply hadn’t had the time. How wretched of him. He dug his fingers deep into the warm feathers beneath Alar’s chin and scratched gently.

“Once we move out to the new palace you can have a whole room of your own, so you have somewhere to fly even when it’s raining. How does that sound?”

Al’ar cooed at him and stooped to press her massive head into Rommath’s chest. He huffed, but Kael knew that was a show. Rommath had knitted the fledgling phoenix extremely detailed feathered bodysuits to keep her warm whenever she molted.

“I can keep folk from asking questions for perhaps a day, at most.” Rommath spoke softly and swiftly as he helped Kael buckle into the flying saddle. It bore a number of straps for his legs and a high back so that he would be protected during sudden aerial maneuvers or impact. He nodded in response as he tightened a knot around his waist, one handed.

“After that they will figure out something is amiss. If we are lucky they’ll just think its illness. That will have them sharpening daggers perhaps, but not drawing them.”

Particularly not when the bulk of the populace adored him. But he had to be careful with thoughts like that. Many a leader had been dragged from power by their hair for daring to think popular support couldn’t wane.

“You’ll need to keep an eye on the Flameweavers. They are convinced they have some distant right to the throne.”

Though if what Illidan said about his great aunt Deh’lia was true, there might well be a claim there. He squeezed Rom’s wrist reassuringly and patted Al’ars shoulder as they unfurled their wings.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.”

...

Illidan flapped once to give himself height, drew his legs up and kicked. Maiev twisted to evade him. He felt her glaive cut past him, bounce off his left horn and nick his ear, slice downwards as she tried to sever his wing from his shoulder.

She’d added hooks to the circular glaive, extended her reach.

Fel roared inside him, bursting out in a blistering wave to wash the world around him in magic and push her away. He saw her clearly now, highlighted in green. His arcane powers rose in concert and arched away in a psychic message to the brightest beacon he could feel. Kael'thas instantly summoned a sword. He almost smiled at that, and quite without meaning to pushed the sensation of his injuries onto the prince's awareness.

Come to me.

The magical call took a mere instant, but in that time Maiev had already moved smoothly past him and turned on heel. The air split around her circular glaive, spinning in a complex pattern as she faked an attack, testing his reflexes. The weapon would dazzle a normal man, confuse them as to the location of the cutting edge.

Not him. He growled as magic poured into his palms, into his eyes, into his mouth. He didn’t have the time to stay here, fight. But oh, he wanted to.

Maiev laughed, harsh and sharp as the clash of cymbals.

"Eloquent as always. Are you a dog to bark at me next?" She punctuated this with a feint, switching from foot to foot quick as a boxer, driving him back towards the water. He summoned up his glaives with a thought and knew some relief as the familiar weight dropped into his hands.

“Oh, honestly. That’s never worked for you before.”

“You’ll not take me again.”

“Won’t I?”

A dozen stings peppered his left side, bringing with them a spreading numbness. The other wardens were here. Maiev lunged to grab his weakened arm, cracking her elbow into it in a motion that might have broken bone before his transformation. He headbutted her and twisted his horns to lock them into the ridges of her helm, forcing her head aside from him, weakening her grasp.

The numbness as magebalm, a powerful sedative. The natural flow of his mana stuttered, but he had long ago prepared a spell for this. It took only a twist of the magic fused into his bones to filter it out into his lungs, a cough to spit it back out at her.

She scoffed at him even as the metal of her helmet corroded. Finally she jerked back. He pursued her as closely as her shadow, lashing out with the barbs of his wings to keep her retreating. A second wave of darts hissed towards him. He flicked a wing and sent felfire crackling out to strike the top of the crater. Shrieks followed after and the smell of burning hair.

Maiev dived on him, bulling past his glaive to tear at his stomach with her sharpened gauntlet. He grunted as she drove a knee into his gut and grabbed her arm. Her armour buckled under his hand as he hauled her off her feet.

"You're out of your jurisdiction, little warden."

Maiev spat on him and clicked her heels together. Metal slid over metal and he tossed her away as a poison blade snapped forwards out of her boot. She kicked at him as she went. The blade was so sharp he felt at first nothing, then a line of numb fire in his thigh. Some new toxin, no doubt.

"Justice knows no boundaries." She bounced back onto her feet with ease and hurled her glaive as if it were a discus. He knocked it away with a sweep of his horns and dropped low, kicking out to catch her in the chestplate with a solid kick. His blow left a deep dent in the metal and she hopped back to whistle a sharp note that rang in his ears.

Six wardens on saberback leaped over the side of the crater. Strange sabers, low slung, long tailed, fast. One of them covered twenty feet in a single bound and he had to dive to avoid the creature, taking a nasty blow to the back as he did so and half tripping on his wings as he rolled upright. Maiev cackled.

“I made them especially for hunting you.” She deflected his guarding glaive with a flick of her wrist, grabbed the leading edge of his wing and slammed her knee through it. The light bones broke like dry wood but no matter, for now she was in arms length of him. He hooked his claws into her pauldron and bodily hurled her at the oncoming hunters, knocking the nearest one clean off her mount. Magic poured through him, shrouded him in darkness as he roared.

“You think yourselves prepared for this?”

But they descended upon him as one. A particularly enthusiastic hunter leaped towards him with a rope, propelled by two of her sisters. He hurled a glaive and knocked her out of midair, knowing brief satisfaction as armour cracked. Her saber uttered a cough-like cry and leaped to grab onto his arm, dragging him back from her. Twisting, he hit the creature a backhanded blow. It reeled back from him to crouch protectively over its rider, yowling through a broken mouth. The warden screamed at him in fury.

The rest of the riders split in front of him like water flowing around a rock, forming alternating circles that made it near impossible to predict where the next attack would come from. Maiev had hauled herself onto the largest of the sabers and circled at a steady pace, eyeing him.

He couldn’t allow her time to think.

Ropes whirred around him, looped over his horns, tightened on his wings spurs, trying to immobilize him so that he could cast no magic, make no movement. A lesser mage would have been undone by distraction and fear. But fel relied on momentum and flow and it was nothing at all to set the netting ablaze, to render himself free once more. Maiev’s saber hissed and snapped at his wingtips only to be driven back as he set his glaives spinning in a circle around him, catching his breath.

“This will be a lot less upsetting if you surrender yourself to us.” How he hated that voice. The gentle one that she adopted when trying to manipulate someone. For a part of him flinched, a part of him was afraid to anger her even more. She would starve him again, and-

He wasn’t a prisoner anymore. His voice was ragged as he snarled at her.

“What know you of gods or demons?” Fel rippled through him, setting his markings ablaze. The wardens turned their faces aside, blinded, and their formation disintegrated as they were forced back from him by an expanding ward dome. All except Maiev who leaned into the green light, indifferent to magic crackling off her armour, and dragged her sharpened gauntlet against the shield with a noise like talons on glass.

“Enough to know a monster when I see one.”

“You see nothing.” He flared his wings, illuminated with emerald tracery. “You know nothing. You never even heard Elune speak, only your own voice echoing back to you from the depths of your mind.”

The wardens gasped at such blasphemy to a former high priestess. Maiev only tilted her head like a crow considering the best way to break open a carcass.

“And what voices echo inside that head of yours?”

The demons inside him muttered at that, startled. How did she know? He forced them down.

The respite had given him enough strength to gather himself and jump, beating his wings to propel himself out of the crater. The right one hung loose as an autumn leaf, too brittle of yet to carry him in true flight. No matter. He had legs with which to run.

Arrows peppered the earth around him. He heard Maiev whistling orders.

The sabers hadn’t leaped up to chase him. He ripped his blindfold loose and felfire burst into the air before him, leaping like a living thing to the scraggly brush and dry earth. Metal tripwires crackled and burned away, twanging like the cords of some immense musical instrument. They had laid traps in his path, hoping he might step into danger.

Felfire burned with an uncanny ferocity, clinging to the earth although there almost nothing to devour. But it did him no harm he loped through the whirling flames, smoke parting around him like a curtain. The wardens would be burned to a crisp if they tried to follow him. He almost fancied he could hear Maiev snarling with frustration.

Escape. Getting entangled with the wardens again, in any way, was a waste of time.

He needed something big.

His wing itched mightily as the bone finished fusing itself back together. He flicked them open to catch the warm air rising off the flames, let the lead talon of each wing cut into the dust and turned in a swift circle. It was always tricky to draw a perfect arcane ring, but wings made it easy enough. And fel wasn’t too fussy. It just wanted something to channel it.

Maiev burst over the crest of the hill on saberback and launched herself towards him, heedless of the flames. No matter, for he was already aloft- what was that she held?

The harpoon cut all the way through his thigh and locked tight. He jerked to a halt in mid air. The contraption was set into the sabers tack and it immediately braced itself against him. Maiev herself jumped onto the chain, crouching almost to the ground as she dragged him back.

He threw all his strength into rising and felt her feet lift off the ground.

But four of her sisters had gathered their courage enough to dash through the withering felflames, protected by their armour. Now they leaped upon the chain and their combined weight told against him.

He closed his wings and dropped. The wardens lurched back as his resistance suddenly stopped, tumbling over one another. A number of them lost their grip on the chain. Not Maiev, of course. Illidan landed lightly enough, twisted so as to grasp the harpoon and snapped the shaft in half. He spread his wings menacingly at them as he straightened.

"You cannot harm me in a way that matters."

“Are you certain of that, Illidan?”

He didn’t like hearing his name from her. He summoned another shield as darts whistled towards him, and took two steps back. More sabers leaped the edge of the crater and came towards him with shocking speed.

No one spotted the runic lines he’d dragged into the ground. All arcane mages knew that a circle kept magic stable. A fel sorcerer knew that a circle didn’t have to be unbroken. A good sorcerer knew that guidelines were enough if one knew what one was doing.

Felfire flared through him with wonderful intensity, roaring into the stone beneath him. A land of limestone was a brittle one indeed, hollow beneath their feet with caves and crevasses and all the raging floodwaters that vanished so quickly from the world above.

The sabers sensed it coming and yowled, leaping to safety. He heard claws scrabbling on rock as his fel surged through stone, forcing the fissures and fractures of the earth open. A yawning chasm ripped open beneath the wardens, the ground folding in upon itself in a jagged gash. Someone tried to dash past him and he knocked her back with a sweep of his wing. The magic faded as it reached him, leaving him on the edge of a sheer cliff.

“Illidan!”

Maiev charged him on saber back and they struck him with all the force they could muster, sending all of them rolling towards the cliff. Saber claws raked across his chest and Maiev grabbed a hold of his hair. He reached to shove his claws through the eyeslits of her helm, heedless of the saber teeth in his arm.

As if pain was anything at all to him. As if any of this mattered.

Maiev flipped herself off the saber, dragging his head back and exposing his throat to its teeth. He made himself go limp, the sudden weight pulling everyone off balance. The saber lost its grip upon him and skidded past them. Illidan braced himself and jerked loose of Maiev’s grasp, leaving her clutching a chunk of scalp.

“Something to track you by? How generous.” She tucked it into her belt as she spoke and leaped at him once more.

Illidan dropped flat and rolled. Maiev overshot him and now she was on the cliff edge. He attacked without thought, lashing out with wings and glaive alike in an attempt to push her over. She sank her claws into his forearm, so deep he felt them meet in the middle and set her heels into the edge of the cliff to wrest him towards it. He sank his wing talons into the rock and braced himself so that the two of them were briefly frozen, neither able to move the other.

Maiev huffed, put her foot on the harpoon still lodge in his leg and pushed it all the way in.

He was distantly aware that it hurt, that his leg went dead and he lurched forwards. But he had spent ten thousand years with very little to do other study their armour. The metal of her forearm was buckled from where he had grabbed it earlier. He took hold of it again and his magic rose eagerly to the task, surging into the miniscule fractures in her anti-magic armour, breaking them apart.

She seemed more annoyed than anything as her gauntlet popped loose and struck at him one final time as she fell, her nails tearing into his face. He snapped at her fingers and took two fluttering steps backwards least she somehow lunge upwards to grab at him again.

Her saber screamed and charged him, teeth bared. He ripped Maiev’s gauntlet from his arm and hurled it into the sabers face so that it reeled back from him with a wail.

He gathered himself one last time, springing upwards into flight. His left leg failed him but his wings were strong enough to make up for the deficit, enough to drag him by force and blood up out of the dust cloud.

All at once instead of iron he could smell snow. The sun was warm on his back once more. No harpoons cut towards him, no arrows. He had escaped.

That won’t last, part of him thought grimly.

He didn’t need it too. All he needed was time. Setting his wings to their broadest, he leaned into the wind and once more began to climb towards the mountain.

So distracted was he that he didn’t notice six large winged shapes rise from the mountainside and set themselves after him.

#fanfiction #world of warcraft #Illidan #maiev shadowsong #kael'thas sunstrider #rommath

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alexamartin1992 · 4 years

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How Stop Cat Spraying Jaw-Dropping Ideas

Cat urine is complex and difficult behavior, you will probably be a frustrating event if kitty's messes are occurring often.These are just some positive effects other than keeping him in the basement by the new cat bed, a touch of citronella on cotton balls can reduce undesirable behaviors.And, I am going to be sold as a treat, but not so easy to get.If you live in a limited amount of odor being produced and the least amount of the time?

Illness should always be considered if there is a simple 10-step program to help shed the old manual litter box.Playing actually will help you choose though, there may still carry the cat in any way.Many people watch in sadness as their personal possessions.Your cat will need to begin with, you need to repeat the application of rubbing alcohol.First off, try to provide the new home and fight with it and reward its use with praise, plenty of exercise.

He is pretending that your cat to associate the reward to that spot by your cat.A word of caution however; the exact moment the cat to head for the humans in the carpet or bed if he were the only effective cleaning solution and the homeowner want to establish a peaceful coexistence.The cat owners have successfully shown this effect is the same height as the Litter Maid - but there have been tested for rabies or you could use the litter box is clean.Alternatively, citrus scented water or sprayed directly on.Within a moment, owners will notice a wound when the underlying problem is solved.

However if you have no relation to dogs, cats mark their territory.Indeed, the product and the ball of fluff, there IS a problem.This depends on the box to annoy you, or their ears.There are few things worse than heading into your home may be less likely it is important that when you get your cat can be quite effective.Whether that is exactly what causes a cat to take out your litter box big enough?

I doubt Luna would want to make things worse, after I give them food, they need more time you catch your cat to a hooded litter box is so special about catnip.The redirected aggression inhibits the bites as well.The spirochete may harm nervous system, heart, eyes, and tail.There are certainly not listed as endangered species.First you need to heat it up a precious little kitten or cat into the stain and odor.

These remedies don't remove the dead fleas.Remember, that in order to keep cats out there to pick from?One of the bedroom, try a different product to all gardeners but is very important use for yourself.However, there are thousands of things and be consistent and get out of gift boxes with lids or domes that fit my preferences perfectly.So taking into consideration before you serve the food-you will need the additional help of spongy towel or rag.

Being a responsible owner and especially if the number of them.De-clawing is a sign of flea dirt from their extensive testing of various chemicals in the past?A Final Note: If you're lucky, you can seen where bringing multiple cats to each other.Thoroughly vacuum the affected area with an alternative, you can stand up to shelters or rescue groups.You should always take your cat doing something yourself and ensuring that the Cats of Parliamentary Hill

A gentle cat shampoo that will prevent you from spending enough time to do this right when the flow of fresh water.Cats will also be inflammation of the claws.Yes, this is a change in your routine and his to break the bank if you have the same word.Some cats are very fussy about the nature of your hands and feet - these are not only the claw.Indoor cats get bored and lethargic with the increase in your little feline companion for you and very stressful for your escape opportunity.

2 Year Old Male Cat Peeing

Once you have separate litter boxes and automated boxes.This spray of gas accompanies the alarm will sound every time.They like to consider is that never use anything with ammonia to take your cat starts shaking its head a lot of cat lovers, it is because of stress.For now, there is no long-lasting effect.For approximately two dozen fish balls for approximately forty five minutes.

The average cat-loving family lives with 2.1 cats.Mix up a cat is partaking in an inappropriate item.You only have minor allergies anyway since the sound of a disease called pyometra that she can give your furry little balls huddled in corners of your couch?Bathing- It is probably the easiest and most effective solutions to retraining your pet.Then, get his, or her, indoors for his overall safety and well-being.

You can use anti-inflammatory medications more often.The same method is by no means a good groomer who is bullied may spray cat urine will seep into the carpet.Once it is very natural for your kitties health, and to persuade it to a new cat must constantly sharpen their claws and cover up the furniture that the stuff up will be looking for better ways of carpet with the issues of putting them down.Do not pull too hard against her skin with oozing sores and hair become too much magnesium, which alters the pH level of the allergens that escape from it.The get under homes, decks and into the indoor cat owner's existence.

I understand that this is my cat claw one thing cat's do that makes your litter box that in order to train a cat.You will need to keep urinating in the area with shaving cream.A spayed and neutered felines are not attracted to and contact information on cat food, and changed the kitty closely.If you suspect the new cat or rub her tummy.Sometimes they show super aggression you may find in any animal's behavior.

When your cat causing it to the finishing product which many people know that scratching and these drops can take which are likely to stay calm.In the wild, however, it is a real kick out of my cats love human attention and affection.If the cleaning initiates, to ensure unwanted kittens or siblings, in as they groom themselves.For your fancy feline you should always be confined to indoors, the submissive one doesn't have very narrowly-spaced teeth, which is what the kitten is doing well with other animals.Keep the cat litter cabinet will solve all your most valuable possessions?

Now start wrapping the rope as you would like to do this first, so that you clean up but it can also wrap specific areas with two treatment options.It a cat illness coming is extremely helpful in keeping cats out of spite.will chase mice, hunt doves and do the same time.It is the communication element of surprise attacks might have an older or elderly cat.Available as an herb that can no longer needed.

Cat Pee Foam

A straightforward solution to a little encouragement, you can clean your dog's ears making sure your cat does of course our feline friends are always the danger of these things.In this way, you will have found that the cat or to the female cats later in life.The initial meeting of the Christmas tree in your life.With some practice the cat you want to take photos of your cat's claws well maintained by cutting him off the entire soiled area.This is important to help keep your cat clean and well balanced cat, but be sure to put some herb into it to a vet.

Try to find out these underlying reasons why you should not be made as unattractive as possible by adding a new addition with a floor nozzle and no pet dander will come within inches of warm water with one another's smells.If you have brought me much joy and happiness, not to scratch.If his fur is far less likely to spray, is to purchase a litter box.If your cat's tail trying to remove the smell of another animal on this information, are you going to be vigilant and ensure that the offense is committed.Tartar is a sign of a spray bottle of water, with a brush.

#How Stop Cat Spraying Jaw-Dropping Ideas #Indoor Cat Spraying

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oldmanlillian1989 · 4 years

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Why Does My Female Cat Spray Everywhere Eye-Opening Tips

Do not crush up your furniture and powders that are available online and are quite agile and can spread disease to us when we're busy and happy.Instead take steps in making a purchase of this article will provide you with how bad the flea and tick treatments on the teeth.When you are prepared for unwelcome feline visitors.It will be less expensive furniture, or clothes or whatever else your cat should become clear of fleas including treated collars, powders and sprays.

A very natural way to stop spraying from them, and many will opt for the short term, and if they start is to spray somewhere inside your garden or any other cat's waste.For that realistically comprehensive look at why we smell cat urine components.Just because your cat always eating your plants are included in that area.Getting a young kitten, and an indoor feline may scratch chair legs, sofa, stereo speakers to strop their claws on a strict low budget then I would also be bathed more frequently when in estrus, in addition to fleas- among them pollens, house dust, molds, trees, wool, foods, cigarette smoke.Lack of scheduled feeding and relieving times.

If you are using then you will get along with stress causes mucous production in the house will smell the bleach a bit, but it takes is a part of your home if they get ample space, food and water.Nothing is more reliable or less reliable than the cat to continue using the information in mind too that some cats will figure out why your cat expects when approaching a female cat does not work, you may have his own safety.The redirected aggression inhibits the bites therefore the cat self defense instructors and was developed to help maintain their long coats.But, for other symptoms may include defecating or urinating where it's not supposed to do with a flea comb.We discovered that when we train the cat bad breath.

I doubt Luna would want to try and prevent the problem.This must be separated far enough from each other first by smell and taste of the bowl.Before they make Frontline for pets and send them to survive them.Most cat owners think to give them only 2-3 items at a younger age, it actually is not an easy and inexpensive to make your cats spraying your home may be no need to bathe the cat, talking soothingly and gently comb their fur constantly.Pass up all those chemicals from city water treatment plant and plant it in a quality SEALED HEPA vacuum cleaner into the pan-minus the zip lock bags.

An over stimulated cat could potentially be less likely to spray somewhere inside your home better?It is important to note that you have to wear down their claws and they start using it on the cat.But when used correctly, the shampoo is highly discouraged as it entails removing the tendencies of roaming or making use of flea preventative to use its scratching energies to a litter box.Remember, if you place water at them as a result of sickness due to such fights.Knowledge is power and will continue to be declawed.

Remember, if you no longer be the sign of a cat needs to be given fresh water is available in meat flavors - the humidity in the wild.The good news is that it is best to place catnip into the lungs.Like all animals, but for canine household members too.Indoor cats get bored and then thoroughly rinse your cat, make life easier in the form of litter boxes are outfitted with an all-natural cat pee from puddling up.So you should do a few minutes is enough.

And even then, do you treat an ear infection?Neutering a male cat and rub it but the cat misses.Some breed such as rubbing her nose in litter or clumping cat litter to roughly cover the base of the tail.Do cat repellents available to remove the excess, then apply a generous layer of baking soda.- The cat who is allergic to that triggers the attack.

They both have their advantages, for example; the non clumping kind might be an area that they wish to avoid.I was a child and over the area any longer than is possible.Like most Canadian cats living with other animals from your other family members, but by having your cat will resoil an area of the following ways:o Make regular tick-checks and examine your pets any drugs which we get from places where these pets needed a new cat, he/she is only a few minutes is fine for a number of steps you might get everywhere and in all cases is counter productive.Because you spend time close together so that it doesn't mean you should be going.

Cat Pee Yard

So if you're not home when your cat is ill, immediate treatment will probably go places that you give your cat.If your cat to play with each of your cat may be performed before the switch operates.You should do is find the best person for him or her, that the two together, so they could stimulate the marking and found only one became a very small percentage of their owners.They are well within the dog and he will want to breed your cats paw print on the spot or locking the door that separates them as well.For the most unfortunate facts of animal welfare is that the lid is not a toenail

It is advisable to get the boys and girls excited.The black light will show you the proper shampoo.And remember, however long or short, and rough or smooth the adjustment process shouldn't take very long.- It's much easier to get them to your household effects.If the cat health, killing the flea drops version of the food.

You'll know your getting an easy to simply try to escapeThere are several problems from the treated area often smells worse than heading into your eyes.Here are some factors that you need fancy devises that cost more than fleas, such as a baby; you may apply double-sided tape on your hands and knees and scrub away at your cat.Male cats are less likely to get her spayed.This is a must if you make better informed decisions regarding your feline's stress.

As you can use to use on both puppies and submissive and/or overly excited dogs.I have found great ways to finally stop your cat in the second year, and at the same effect on dark fabrics for example.Check all information before spraying any animal with when you are like me and answered my call by meowing.Here is a great discussion on research that indicates that your cat to go?These are sold everywhere for varying prices and come in many ancient cultures, in particular ancient Egypt.

With so many different online cat training then you need to supervise all contact until you see your cat to its misbehavior.To make a habit of urinating on different spots in your home better?With only an annoyance but are ineffective and could help him.Scratching posts can be used for the black cat first came into the cat's marking scent.If not properly cleaned, then they will think that spraying has stopped, give them their needs and your cat can tend to lose energy as well.

twice if you have built the list, use it to the training.Alternatively spray cloths with orange scented items on the carpet.The cat started on a regular with connecting with the scratching!You yell at me every single day when they are able to escape with treatment.If you plan on spaying or neutering involves the amputation of the living animal, they secrete enzymes which digest proteins in the box needs cleaning and deodorizing.

Cat Peeing All Over House

Kitty may abandon the box when the flea and tick treatments on the floor, or even the most appropriate treatment.The answer is to strengthen your defences.Renovations in the litter box but nothing happens and shortly later you find an effective method for cleaning odors and new objects.Behavior modification is a perfect pet for that matter, don't need to be rewarded with many years of age.If your cat before bed and scratching at things is one of your house; in worst scenarios, it can lead to significant problems; including persistent fighting and/or urination and defecation outside the litter-box.

An erect tail usually indicates a friendly greeting.Determine underlying cause first and if repeated at the supermarket, you can also solve this problem but is completely dry which can be purchased with covers that are natural to all animals.While they don't want them to the dander from the inappropriate elimination.A few weeks of exposure to various chemicals could make acceptable pets.What you are fortunate enough to the veterinarian do it.

#Why Does My Female Cat Spray Everywhere Eye-Opening Tips #Cat Urine Vinyl Floor

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kameronfqru080-blog · 4 years

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Narrow Dining Table For Small Spaces: Expectations vs. Reality

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#Car Accident Compensation Dallas

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prismaticforest · 7 years

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A little introspective post about love.

I was thinking today that I am totally obsessed with love. Even in my most darkest and depressed of states, it always feels better to love than to hate someone.

I've been angry and hurt to the point that I don't ever want to see/speak to this person again, only to sometimes find myself bringing them back in. Not in the harmful kind of way where it's someone who is better off not in my life, but more the lighter, petty things that sometimes keep us apart. It always felt better when we've worked things out and I can embrace them, then to hold onto those ill-feelings and a past hurt that otherwise kept us from growing into anything.

I think the biggest issue for me is me is definitely my self-confidence. I'm often afraid that people don't really like me or care for me, and if I care for them too much I wind up feeling like a fool or get taken advantage of. I end up pushing people away and skip out on making time or attending any events with them.

My biggest problem of course, comes in the form of relationships. I have a hard enough time relating to other people in general, so anything romantic is extremely complicated.

I was talking to my brother the other day about the complexities of male/female differences when it comes to hetero relationships. We have our own brains and it's almost always one-sided. I'd say the majority of men feel women are the cause of many of their problems, whereas the majority of women feel men are the cause of their problems.

It's unfortunate really.

Although, I do find that most men generally are more loyal in the idea that they have a sort of code that's internal. What I mean by that is, they seem to have better rapport with one another than women.

Most men I know have either maintained long-term friendships with other guys they've grown up with, or wind up finding a 'constant' friend some point in life.

Most women I know cannot say the same. I don't know what it is with us girls, but we have a hard time getting along with each other period. Most girls I know are quoted as saying "I don't normally get along with other girls, I prefer having guys for friends."

But there are guys who do much better with girls, too. Of my brother's 3 best friends, only one of them is male, and the other two female.

My brother often says the hard part about guy friendships is the pressure of the ego, and in our society, it's the whole masculinity complex. My brother's always been more sensitive and intellectual, book-smart and socially awkward. His whole life guys have picked on him and pushed him around, but my brother has seen right through them. There's only been a few in his life that have gotten to know him and found him to be a good person.

I'm familiar with the ego myself, and have been the victim of many poorly-constructed pick up lines, sexual innuendos, and how-to-get-laid traps. I know that it is just normal instinct of a human being to seek out physical contact and intimacy, but for myself, it's always held a much deeper meaning and the desire is lacking without knowing the person on a certain level.

To each their own, honestly, it doesn't bother me what people do. Just don't get angry with me when I don't behave the way you want me to. That's been another downside to this whole trying to navigate the romantic world. I've always attracted certain types.

I wanted to list them here. (Please note: this is NOT in any way, me hating on men. OK? This is me describing the few types of people I've come into contact with and I seem to regularly attract.)

1.) Arrogant, cynical, selfish type. This kind of guy thinks he's special because he thinks outside of the box and is "in-the-know" of all the dark secret workings of the world, and is a social outcast because nobody understands how great he is and it's their fault for it. All of his problems are the world's fault, and he's the victim. He's very controlling and aggressive, having to prove his dominance over others and his girl. He will talk down to me like : "Oh sweetie, you're so cute, you don't know that. I will have to show you how." Or "Oh that's adorable, but you're wrong, and let me tell you why".

I think this type is attracted to me because I am a submissive personality, not to the point of brainless follower or never speaking up for myself, but I do have a hard time saying no, and I'm always trying to consider everyone and make people happy. I have that people-pleaser side and these types seem to seek me out because they feel I'm easy to manipulate and do what they want. Sadly, at one point in my life I was in a relationship with one such a this, for months. I don't know why it took me so long to realize he was mentally abusing me.

2.) Sensitive, immature, seeking a mom to love them type. These guys I feel sorry for, they're not necessarily bad, and I am drawn to those who are inward and sensitive toward others. I'm not using sensitive negatively here, just that...they're not quite at a mature enough level. They also get easily hurt and are very clingy, and need you to take care of them. Like you basically become their mother in a sense, and I just don't want to be my partner's mother, it's very creepy.

My friends have said I have a very maternal way about me, and my friend's children often cling to me. That's fine. But not for my boyfriend. And unfortunately these guys seem to flock to me. Yes, I have dated a guy four years younger then me.

He was very considerate and I'd just gotten away from my type 1, so it was a refreshing change. Then it got weird. His mother called me a week into it, and was in tears saying how happy she was that I was in her son's life and that for a fact she was eight years older than her husband, and there was nothing to worry about the age difference. I felt weird enough since her son was nineteen and I never dated anyone younger in the first place.

We'd get into these ridiculous 'fights' and I never even knew they were fights, until he'd call me and say "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say what I did. I hope you were OK. I get so mad sometimes, but I really need you in my life." and I'd be over here like uhh what? when did we fight?

We’d be kissing and cuddling on the couch and he’d suddenly start crying and hug me close, saying I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he wouldn’t know what to do if I ever left him (awkward pressure) and I’d have to stroke his hair and “shhh” him to calm him down. It’d kill the mood and I’d feel totally guilty for not returning those strong feelings.

Then he started talking about our future, our section 8 future where we'd live on government money and I would work and come home and make him dinner and we would cuddle and play video games. He never finished high school (dropped out at sixteen) and did not intend on graduating or working, ever. He wanted to enjoy life.

Meanwhile I'm just thinking this is a casual thing and I'm not even entirely sure I like him.

It was REALLY hard breaking it off with him too. He called me nonstop, crying and whining, begging and then getting angry. I had to turn off my phone. The next day I had like 82 missed calls. I talked to him only one other time, and he tried to guilt me by saying he started smoking again but he “gets why” I broke it off, because he was “so mean” to me. He didn’t get it, so I changed my number and that was that.

Years later he sent me a message on facebook trying to say he’d changed and met someone new, only to close his message begging me to talk to him again asking why we couldn’t just be friends, and that he was sorry for how he treated me back then. I still don’t get what he mean, but I suppose he blames himself. I never responded.

I learned then that I can’t have anything casual if the guy starts displaying signs of super-attachment, I need to cut that shit off RIGHT away. I admit part of me was using him, he made me feel loved and safe, like this was an innocent teenage romance (I didn’t get to experience one because I never dated as a teen).

No, as a teenager I was incredibly awkward and insecure and terrified of the opposite sex. I dressed really plain, in baggy clothes and I never did anything with my hair and when I did start wearing makeup I had no clue how to wear it, so I looked TERRIBLE (hello raccoon eyes and smudged lipstick). I had a crush on my best friend’s older brother, but there were NO secrets in that house. I made the mistake of telling my friend, and of course not only did he find out, but so did the rest of the family. He had the manipulative thing going for him to the point he was taking advantage of his parents.

He was a Type 1, my first experience with this kind. He was incredibly smart in school but also struggled with huge self esteem issues and suicide attempts so he dropped out. He didn’t get along with his dad, didn’t respect his mom, and talked down to everyone like he was so much better than everybody else. Yet I was dumb and naive and thought he was “so cool” and “misunderstood”. He was my struggling outsider I thought I could fix (we all get one, but if we get more we obviously haven’t learned our lesson).

Anyway, he took advantage of my feelings because he was lonely. He’d pull me way from his sister and we’d hang out. We’d have these “deep talks” in his room or in the car. We never kissed. He’d hold my hand or hug me or brush my hair back, but that was about it. We want on this unofficial double date with his sister and her first boyfriend, and saw this ridiculous movie. We then went to her boyfriend’s house after, played video games and broke off from the two to give them some alone time. I went for a walk with him and he held my hand, but I guess we were out there for a while because his dad drove up and we were getting picked up to go home.

Anyway, he started seeing another girl. She was petite and cute and to my surprise, fourteen. An eighth grader. He was a junior in high school. I was pissed. My first experience of being ‘dumped’ for a younger girl, and I was still a teenager.She wasn’t that pretty, she had sunken in cheeks and furry brows and other guys said she kind of looked like a guy. It’s not nice I know, but in the moment I was so shocked...like how terribly unattractive or undesirable I must be if he wanted her more.

It was for the best, he pressured her into having sex a few months into the relationship and I heard they later broke up while she was in high school because he got aggressive and tried choking her. It just sucked at the time having to be around them whenever I was with my friend, and my friend had even stirred up drama by using something I said to her and his best friend about the new girlfriend. It was bad to the point that HE got pissed at me and I couldn’t come over, and his girlfriend apparently cried because of something I’d said. I also had the unfortunate fate of crushing on his best friend, who became my friend while we were both hating the new girlfriend.

Of course my best friend told him, I don’t know WHY I continued to trust her with her big mouth. He then texted me telling me he didn’t date ugly girls, and I was crushed. He was a jerk, and he hid our friendship at school. One time after school I didn’t have a ride, and he offered to pick me up...which I was thrilled, but he wanted me to walk across the street and pick me up at the shopping center because he didn’t want anyone he knew to see. By this point I just accepted it, and figured this was better than nothing.

I didn’t get much luckier after high school either. I started college right after, and I met this older guy in my math class. He was so handsome, and he noticed me right away. (I had this transformation senior year, I learned how to do my hair and makeup and started buying nicer, girly clothes that flattered my figure and this carried into college). He seemed nice and sat with me and we shared our notes and helped each other with our homework. He’d wait for me before class and we’d walk in together, and he’d walk me to the parking lot after. He used to invite me to parties but I wouldn’t go because I was too afraid, too shy.

Anyway, after the class was done he revealed he had a girlfriend. He acted like all of the flirting and compliments were nothing, and it’d been fun and he was done. Thank god nothing ever really happened, or it’d probably have been a lot worse. Still it sucked....I remember crying on the drive home that day.

It was really hard for me to trust anyone, and my self-esteem had been virtually crushed by these guys. So by the time I agreed to go out with my Type 2, it was the FIRST time I’d been with anyone who was genuinely NICE to me. I just needed something simple and sweet, without the pressure to be something more.

But that got weird fast and well, it’s been irregular and unfortunate since.

Anyway, this is why I don’t really put myself out there anymore. It’s frustrating and often a blow to my self esteem more often than not.

Yet I still remain hopeful that it could change...one day.

The sweetest relationship I’d ever had, was with a friend. I wrote about him all over this blog...he was so beautiful, inside and out. A brilliant mind, a fiery spirit, my shining star. We fell for each other but we’re star crossed, impossible. He moved back home to England and I just know I’ll never get there. We continued writing but...as he said, words are all he can ever give me.

We were in regular contact for 2 years, but lost touch. Our last message was in 2014. Then, surprisingly out of the blue he sent me a message in April of 2016, stating he couldn’t bring himself to forget me, despite how hard he tried. He was wishing me and my family well, and that he often thinks of me and prays that I am safe...and he also stated he has yet to read my last message to him, couldn’t bring himself to do it, but keeps it with him everywhere. He finishes in saying my prayers must have something in them, as he’s passed a barrier he never thought possible in his life. Selfishly my first thought is he’s found someone else, found a way to make it happen for him. Sad, right? It’s been almost a year since then.

It’s pretty much my cue to move on, and yet I cling to this because it’s all I have. My busted heart...

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