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inkformyblood · 3 years

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stay interested (in what comes back)

Day 01 Clan of Three for @dincobbweek Summary: Cobb never expected to hear from the Mandalorian after he leaves, but then the first letter arrives... The first letter arrives a few days after Mando and the kid leaves, and it sits unopened on Cobb’s shelf for several days before he can bring himself to open it.

The courier — a young woman named Tai with a constellation of freckles across her cheeks and forehead and close-cropped black hair — presses it into his hands with a knowing grin. Her clothes are worn from the speeder ride around Tatooine, sand clinging to them so that she appears to be part of the desert made flesh.

“If you want to send anything back,” she says, pausing in her swaying walk back to her bike, turning to look over her shoulder towards him. “Just leave it in the usual box. I’ll be back round in two weeks.”

She grins and Cobb catches sight of a new banner tied around her waist: a striped cloth in browns and golds and undeniably Tusken, but it tears the breath from his lungs before he can respond. She hops back onto her bike and is gone.

Everywhere he turns, he is reminded of Mando and the kid, and just when he had pushed the other man from his mind with practised unnerving ease, the letter arrived.

The material is well-made, smooth to the touch except for the small crumpled swell in the centre, and the seal is neat but plain. Cobb brushes his fingers over the markings — a smaller line that flares out into a small peak with a notched end next to a hooked line — and places the letter down, willing his thoughts to turn away from it.

But it remains like a stone digging into the soft skin in the arch of his foot or a shard caught in his teeth.

So Cobb opens it, after one trip too many past it, his gaze locking onto it and the burning curiosity courses through him again.

A crumpled picture on pale brown paper spills out, the edges ragged and torn, and Cobb recognises it as the unmarked side of a help wanted notice. They are common enough in Tatooine that Cobb flips it to the other side to inspect the details before allowing himself to take in the hand-drawn picture.

It was one of theirs, he realises, smoothing out the creases that distort Mos Pelgo’s desperate plea for help. Why had he chosen this? Cobb was well versed in backhanded insults and thinly veiled threats. He had learned to be. The scars that span his back and thighs still ache with the memory of the burning whip and each one is a testament to what he survived.

Mando didn’t strike him as that sort of man. Cobb had seen the way he had curved towards the kid, always half stretched out to brush fingertips across his skull as if he was caught in orbit. Cobb liked to think he was a good judge of character and even when Mando had bared his metaphorical teeth at him, Cobb knew he was a good man.

So, he reasons that the paper was likely convenient rather than a reminder of a debt owed, and flips it back over. A huge white shape dominates the right-hand side of the page broken up by the jagged edges of what Cobb realises are teeth. Next to it are two crudely drawn stick figures, one broader and grey but clearly wearing a helmet with a T shaped visor and the other taller and shakily drawn, featureless except for a red triangle at its throat. Next to the two is a smaller circle in green with two triangles for ears inside a floating grey circle.

It’s the three of them, and a Kraft dragon.

Cobb smooths it out as best he can, his heart twisting and constricting in his chest, threatening to choke him. The other item in the letter is smaller. It rolls when Cobb fumbles while drawing it from the envelope, slipping through his fingers and clattering onto the floor. He drops to his knees, cursing his own uncooperative hands and the protest of his knees, the sharp flare of pain dulling to an ache that would haunt him for a few days.

The ring is cool to the touch and is perfectly sized for his thumb. Cobb doesn’t let his thoughts linger on that, focusing on the careful engraving of segmented bone upon bone instead of the remembered press of Mando’s hand in his, surprisingly warm given the chill of the night air, the slight hesitancy as if expecting Cobb to pull away from him.

He slips it onto his thumb, tacks the picture up on the main wall in his section of the house, and returns to work. A letter detailing their efforts and professing his thanks, along with all the unmarked scrap paper he can find and pencils scavenged from the passing traders that the school doesn't need anymore finds its way into the courier dropbox and is away before Cobb can talk himself out of it.

He just hopes he has made the right choice.

The arrival of a second picture — the same lopsided circle-shaped child drawn in greens and browns and two stick figures, one grey and one brown with red at its throat beneath a sky that burst with all the colours of a fistfight — confirms he was right. The note that comes with it is brief but Cobb traces his fingers over the hesitant letters. Thank you.

⁂

The shadow at the end of Cobb’s hallway shifts as he steps closer, his blaster held ready by his side. “Wasn’t sure you’d be coming here, Mando. Glad to see I was wrong.”

Mando’s laugh sounds wrong, too sharp at the edges and echoing slightly. Cobb takes another step closer, his gaze dropping to search the lighter shadows by the other man’s feet, looking for the huddle of fabric and large eyes of the kid.

“He had to go back to his people.” Mando sounds broken, his voice flat, and Cobb knows that feeling only too well. It draws you down, down into its depths, until you can’t remember what it felt like to believe in something or to care about another person. He steps closer despite himself, one hand stretching out to try and offer what comfort he could when he stops.

Dark curls, close cropped and unevenly cut, greet Cobb’s gaze, brushing against the edge of Mando’s beskar, his helmet held loosely in one hand. His heart lodges in his throat, remembering the way Mando had recoiled when Cobb had taken off the helmet of the borrowed armour, his hope dying in an instant.

“I’m guessing a lot has happened since your last letter.” Cobb doesn’t look at Mando further, navigating with the edges of his vision, sliding his feet across the floor as he hooks his arm around Mando’s waist. The man freezes before curling into him with a wounded noise ripping from his throat. “Come on and sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Didn’t know where else to go.” Mando sighs, his feet leaden, but he goes where Cobb leads. His skin was as cold as his beskar, gritty with sand that rasped against Cobb’s palm. “Knew it would be safe here.”

“Ain’t that a good endorsement,” Cobb murmurs, trying to ignore the swell of emotion the words created in his chest. The gap in letters had troubled him more than he wanted to admit and Tai had taken to stopping by his house first on her rounds so he wouldn’t waste more time waiting for her, only to be disappointed once again.

“It’s true.” Mando turns to watch him, and Cobb keeps his gaze fixed forward. The other man is shorter than him, folding into the curve of his chest as if he had been made to fit there, and he catches a glimpse of dark eyes before they move into his bedroom and Mando’s gaze snaps to the wall. “Oh.”

He sways, no longer leaning on Cobb for support, but clinging to him like a lifeline, and Cobb chances smoothing a hand along the curve of his hip, leaning down to blindly knock his temple to the other man’s. “You will see your kid again, Mando. He loves you.”

“He talked about you too.” Mando’s words rumble through him, his voice cracking and breaking. “Always drawing you. We were going to come back before— before—”

“He’s a sweet kid. Takes after his daddy, I reckon.”

Mando laughs at that, a helpless exhalation, and Cobb chuckles along with him.

“Now, go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning,” Cobb continues, nudging Mando towards the bed. It is unmade, the blankets twisted too high, exposing the pale sheet beneath, but he doesn’t have time to reconsider it as Mando falls onto it as if his strings were cut.

“Skywalker took my child,” Mando mutters into the sheets and Cobb freezes, old familiarity washing over him, his thoughts turning towards an old datapad stored in a small chest in the corner and the contact details hidden within.

“Sleep, Mando. It’ll do you some good.” Cobb waits until the man’s breath levels out, falling into the deep easy rhythm of sleep before turning to inspect the wall. The most recent picture from the child catches his eye — the figure of Cobb and Mando on either side of the kid, their hands overlapping, beneath Tatooine's twin suns — and his hands curl into fitsts. He knows what he has to do.

The datapad hums as it turns on, the screen cracked and blurred, but Cobb navigates through it easily, old memories coming back to him.

‘Skywalker? Been a while, but did you just pick up a Mandalorian’s kid and not leave any contact details?’

The reply is quick, and Cobb squints at the screen, his mouth moving soundlessly as he reads through the misspellings and laughs to himself when he finishes. Three days travel away, and Mando would see his son again. Three days of Cobb living with the man he was hopelessly in love with as he helped him restore the balance to his family. This was going to be difficult, but, hopefully, easier than killing the dragon.

#dinncobb #cobbdin #cobb vanth #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #my writing

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 43: Jon

There aren’t words to describe what being home feels like.

It’s not just the four walls of the house they’ve bought together, or the warmth and beauty of a March sunset, or the sounds of a London evening. It’s Charlie flying down the sidewalk to attack Jon with a hug and a bright smile and a flurry of words about how much they’ve all missed him and then coming back two hours later, pleased as Punch and bearing a “welcome home” cake he baked himself. It’s Sasha calling, not texting, to tell Tim she’s home safe and then asking to talk to Jon so they can reassure each other that they’re both okay. It’s Martin gently tending to the marks on his wrists and ankles, still raw from his desperate attempts to pull free before his strength started to desert him, and singing the song he remembers from when he was a little boy and his father came back from a voyage. It’s Tim cooking Jon’s favorite dinner, but serving him in small helpings so that he doesn’t overstretch his stomach after two weeks while still making sure he eats his fill. It’s the cool, clean sheets and the thick, warm quilt and the weight and security of Tim and Martin on either side of him as he falls asleep, and it’s Tim and Martin soothing and reassuring him, as much with their presence as with any actual words, when he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night.

Going back to the Institute is harder than he would have thought. Only the fact that he knows he can’t be away from it for long gets him to go back—that and the fact that he can’t, won’t, leave his team alone to deal with Elias. Once there, though, he slips back into the routine easily enough. Despite Elias’s snide insinuations, the Archives ran fine without him, but he knows they’re glad to have him back.

They take Tuesday morning to regroup and plan. It’s all very well for both Elias and Jon Prime to tell them to find Gertrude’s notes, but Gertrude was, in Tim’s words, a paranoid old bitch, and it’s not likely that they’ll find a conspicuous notebook with detailed plans on how to stop the Unknowing. More likely that whatever they find will end up being more memory aids than anything, cryptic jottings that only mean something to Gertrude, and sussing it out won’t be easy. But it’s a place to start nevertheless, once they figure out where those notes are.

In the end, Tim and Martin take to looking through the shelves of statements—Tim looking for anything to do with the Stranger, Martin looking for a few of the tantalizing little threads they’ve noticed weaving through the tapestry of their database. Sasha attacks the filing cabinets, with the logic that Gertrude may have pretended to file something important. And Jon takes his counterpart’s advice and goes through his office.

It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s in all the drawers of his desk, but he does his due diligence, pulling everything out of each drawer, tapping for false backs or false bottoms. He does find, stuck in the back of the drawer where he keeps the spare statement forms, a creased and faded concert program printed on green stock from 2003; it doesn’t seem to have any immediate significance, though, so he sets it aside with the intention of looking into it later. Perhaps it’s simply a concert Gertrude attended that she enjoyed, but it might also be a clue to the Unknowing. He’ll have to research.

It isn’t until Wednesday morning that he finds the laptop, hidden along with a key under a floorboard that’s been creaky as long as he’s been working in the Archives. There are scratches on some of the floorboards that Jon’s always hoped aren’t fingernail marks, but several of them are loose and one of them levers up fairly easily, revealing Gertrude’s hidden stash. He digs around a bit but finds nothing else, only the laptop and the key. He sets both on his desk next to the concert program and goes to tell the others.

The laptop is dead, of course. Jon vaguely remembers seeing a charger for it when he was in Gertrude’s apartment, but he didn’t grab it then and it’s far too late to go back now. Luckily, Sasha’s laptop is almost the exact same model, so she simply swaps over the cable and lets it charge while they go over what they’ve found so far. Tim has three statements he thinks might be Stranger ones, but hasn’t looked at yet to be sure; Martin found a third statement involving the Daedalus, which Tim seems positive is a Dark statement, and another statement involving Salesa. Sasha hasn’t found anything in the filing cabinets—yet—but she does have Elias’ schedule, so they’re able to plan their briefings when they know they won’t be observed.

She also kindly hacks into Gertrude’s laptop for him, once it’s charged, and he spends most of Thursday painstakingly going through the files, emails, and Internet history. The latter is by far the most voluminous. It almost makes him laugh to discover the account name “grbookworm1818”—how had he not figured out that was Gertrude, attempting to buy Leitners? She seems to have obtained three, one of them being the copy of The Key of Solomon he found fragments of in the tunnels and the other two being ones he’s never seen or heard of. There are also purchase reports for Archival supplies, airline tickets and travel bookings, and sporadic but suspiciously large orders for petrol, lighter fluid, pesticides, and high-powered torches.

When he comes out of his office at the end of the day, eyes bleary and with no clear plan, he finds a number of dusty boxes scattered about and his assistants attempting to find space for them, but they refuse to tell him where they came from or what they’re for. The next morning, however, Martin and Tim usher him into one of the storage rooms they’ve never really got around to sorting out the second they arrive in the Archives. It’s completely empty, save a table, four chairs, a low set of shelves, a whiteboard, and a corkboard, to which Sasha is tacking a large map of the world. The shelves hold fourteen boxes of the kind designed to hold photographs, a large box of pushpins, three different-colored balls of string, and a laptop cord, ready and waiting.

“We thought we needed a war room,” Tim explains, obviously trying to fight back a grin. “You know, somewhere we can keep everything together and not…get mixed up with the rest of the work we’re doing.”

“Allegedly doing,” Sasha says over her shoulder. “I’m still not sure how much of this job is what was presented to us when we took it and how much is the sort of thing we’re doing right now…can one of you give me a hand here?” she adds as the upper corner of the map flops over onto her head, just above her outstretched hand. Tim comes over to assist.

Jon looks around, surprised and pleased, and opens his bag to pull out Gertrude’s laptop. “Why did you pick this room, out of curiosity?”

Martin pulls the door shut behind him. “The molding.”

“What?” Jon frowns at him.

Tim gives the map a firm stroke to smooth out any air bubbles and presses the pushpin deep into the cork, then turns to give Martin a warm, approving smile. “You know how Elias always seems to know what’s going on in the Archives whenever it’s least convenient for us? Martin realized why the other day.”

“It was an accident,” Martin insists, face turning slightly pink.

“It was brilliant.” Tim claps him on the shoulder. “Those fancy decorations at all the joins in the molding? You know, those elaborate carvings at the top of the fake columns and the corners of all the doorframes and whatnot?”

“Not…I’ve never paid much attention to them.” Jon’s only five foot seven, and since he’s never had to worry too much about clearance or anything like that he’s never really looked too much at anything over his head.

“It’s at the corners of all the shelves, too,” Martin offers. “At least the ones where the statements are stored, the ones that are pretty obviously original to the Institute. You know, with what looks like a medallion in the middle?”

Those Jon has seen. “It’s the Institute seal, isn’t it? Or the Magnus family crest?”

“That’s what I always thought, too, but Martin got a good look at one the other day while he was getting down a statement for me.” Sasha’s eyes sparkle behind her glasses, which instantly puts Jon on edge; these days, anything that excites Sasha is likely to have bad ramifications for them. “It’s an eye.”

“And if he can ‘see through any eye, real or image’…” Tim spreads his hands out invitingly.

Jon sets the laptop down harder than he probably should, eyes wide. “He’s been watching us through the moldings!”

“Yep. It’s anybody’s guess whether or not Gertrude knew about it. I ran it down right after I told them and got a lot of stammering and profanity. Although not from who you might expect,” Martin adds with just the tiniest bit of a smirk. Sasha practically cackles. “Anyway, this room doesn’t have anything like that, we double-checked. So we just…cleaned out all the stuff that was in here and set this up. Give us a bit of breathing room, anyway.”

“At least until Elias comes down to the Archives to figure out why he can’t see us easily,” Tim adds. “But, you know, it’s a head start.”

Jon is six inches shorter than Tim and a full nine inches shorter than Martin, so there’s no way to make it look less than deliberate if he attempts to give either one of them even the most casual kiss on the cheek, but good Lord, he wants to. Instead, he just beams at them both. “God, you’re brilliant. Right, let me get a cup of tea and we can get started.”

“I’m on it.” Martin slips out of the little room.

Sasha smirks at Jon behind Tim’s back, but he does his best to ignore her and focuses on the boxes. “What are these?”

“Tapes. We made copies of all the recordings we’ve done so far of the real statements and sorted them by which fear they belong to.” Sasha taps the lid of one of the boxes and indicates the label on the front. It’s a bright yellow set of concentric circles—no, Jon realizes, it’s a spiral. “Tim did the labels.”

Jon glances up at Tim, both impressed and worried. “You didn’t—”

“Nope.” Tim pulls out a box and shows him the label, simply the word US in a rich, vibrant green. “I don’t know how detailed the ‘image’ has to be, but I’m not risking it. Everything else I tried to do the symbols they described, or…something that made sense. Like antlers for the Hunt.”

“And the ink colors? Is that corresponding to—it’s not the labels we use.”

“No. Those are the colors I’m pretty sure the fears are.”

Martin comes back in with four mugs of tea. Jon takes his with a grateful smile. “Actually, let’s start there. We’ve never really talked about the colors, beyond…”

“What I told Elias,” Tim completes.

“And the little bit you described when you took a look at all of us.”

Tim takes his own mug from Martin, and for some reason Martin’s ears turn slightly pink. Jon’s distracted for a moment until Tim muses, “It’s…weird. Some of them are obvious. Like I said, it’s super obvious the Eye is green and the Stranger is indigo, because I saw that one at the Trophy Room with no other colors interfering. And the Corruption being yellow-green is obvious because of—”

“Me,” Martin finishes.

Tim nods. “And the Spiral being yellow—Christ, that door. The others I…sort of had to guess. Even with…you know…it was hard for me to suss out. The Eye is everywhere. Looking at him is like looking at the shelves in the Archives. The scars are pretty obvious, but not completely.” He frowns. “Like the Hunt and the Slaughter. They’re really close in color. I think the Slaughter’s got a bit more orange in it, the Hunt’s a true red, but especially under the cover of the Beholding, it’s hard to tell the difference. And, actually, sometimes it’s hard to tell the Stranger from the Web at a glance. I mean, until you really start looking at them. The Web is purple, so if it’s not by itself…I mean, it’s a subtle distinction.”

Jon glances uneasily at the carefully-inked purple spiderweb, then turns away. It still bothers him.

They manage to get nearly two hours into their discussion, moving from the colors to the Stranger threads they’ve picked up to what Jon’s gleaned from Gertrude’s laptop. Tim is just jabbing a pin into Nairobi on the map when Sasha stiffens and glances over her shoulder. “Incoming.”

Jon’s about to ask what she’s talking about when the door opens and Elias pokes his head in with a patently false smile. “Knock, knock.”

Tim and Martin make nearly identical noises of frustration. Jon clasps his hands behind his back and gives Elias his best I’m-annoyed-at-being-interrupted-but-you’re-my-superior-so-I’ll-be-polite look, which is only partly put-on. “Can we help you, Elias?”

“I simply wanted to see how you were progressing with finding out about the Unknowing.” Elias looks around the room with interest, and Jon has to work hard to use the tricks Jon Prime has been teaching him to keep his excitement from being obvious. Martin and Tim are right; Elias can’t see into this room. “What have you uncovered so far?”

Jon is immensely proud of his team. They manage to weave an incredibly tight explanation of how much they’ve learned, within limits, that doesn’t let on how much information they were given ahead of time, listing steps without revealing that anything other than chance led them to it. Elias completely acts the part of the mildly interested academic and bureaucrat, but he’s also obviously fishing for information. Martin does a masterful job of acting like he’s falling directly into Elias’ traps while neatly sidestepping them, Tim cracks jokes at the appropriate times to distract him while putting just enough bite into them that Elias will assume they’re simply angry and sarcastic jabs, and Sasha throws a flurry of technical terms into the discussion that are certainly relevant to the topic at hand but serve to make Elias change the tack of his questioning. Like Jon, she knows the value of a well-placed info dump.

There is no redirecting him from the map, however. While he must have known about Gertrude’s travels, at least in a general sense, it’s clear he knew little about her actual movements. Jon masks his reluctance with annoyance and gives Elias a clipped version of his findings.

“Is there any significance to the colors of pins you have used?” he asks, gesturing to the map, where they’ve been marking out Gertrude’s travels. “Or is it random? Or for the…aesthetic?”

“We were trying to do it by what year she took the trip, but we only have so many colors,” Jon answers. “We’ve just switched over. Red are trips that were very definitely expensed back to the Institute, white are ones that were not, and yellow are the ones where we aren’t quite sure.”

“Mm…Gertrude did request a rather high travel budget, comparatively. Of course, if the Archivist job was as simple as it is in other institutions, she would have required no travel whatsoever, but in her capacity to stop the rituals…” Elias seems particularly fascinated by the pin on Beijing. “Why is this one in blue?”

“We just haven’t swapped the pin over yet. That’s one of the last trips we have a record of in Gertrude’s laptop.” Tim tilts his head at Jon. “From, what, six months before she died?”

“Closer to nine. Actually, Martin, can you change that one out, please?” Jon gestures at the box. “It’s a yellow one, I think.”

Martin mumbles an excuse me and switches out the pin. Elias purses his lips thoughtfully. “I don’t recall there being a ritual anywhere near Beijing at the time. What could have sent her there?”

“No idea. What’s bothering me is that we don’t know where she went from there.”

That draws Elias’ attention away from the map and back to Jon. “Surely she came back to London.”

“No.” Jon folds his arms over his chest. “Or at least, not that we can find. As I said, we’re largely tracing these trips from booking confirmations sent to Gertrude’s email address, and she largely purchased one-way tickets. Her last flight purchased out of London was to Paris, and then she booked a flight from Paris to Beijing. From there…I don’t know. I suppose she was buying tickets as she went along. It’s not like her credit card statements list where the flights went, only what airlines she flew and when she purchased the tickets. No hotel accommodations, though. Doubtless she paid cash, or else Gerard paid for those.”

“Gerard?” Elias says with interest. “Gerard Keay? Who told you he was traveling with Gertrude?”

Panic strikes Jon. Most likely it’s something he gleaned from Jon Prime—but on the other hand, did the Primes actually mention that? Flustered, he stammers, “I—someone must have—”

“No, no one told you. You Knew.” Elias sounds delighted.

“I probably just—gleaned it from the statements.” Jon glances at the shelves.

“No, Jon, this is a good thing. You’re getting stronger! It’s one thing to be able to—” Elias gestures vaguely and almost dismissively at Tim and Martin “—glean something from somebody in the room, but just Knowing something like that, that’s a big step.”

He sounds like a proud father, and it makes Jon feel incredibly uncomfortable. He balls his hands into fists, gathering up the cuffs of the sweater he definitely didn’t steal from either Tim or Martin, to stop himself from reaching out to one of them for protection. It’s stupid. Elias won’t hurt him, not here, not now; he needs him too much. He knows he’s safe. It just feels…dangerous, and he wants them to make him feel safer. Rather than risk Elias knowing how much he depends on them and doing something about it, he grips the sweater.

Elias practically beams at him. “It seems to me your next step should be obvious.”

“It should?”

“You should start retracing her steps. Are her notes from this trip on there?”

“Ah—no.”

“Then you’ll need to go where she was. Find out where she stayed, what she did.” Elias clasps his hands behind his back. “Where she went from there. How soon do you think you can leave?”

Jon blinks. This is going a bit faster than he expected. He turns to Tim and Martin. “Do you two have a passport?”

Martin looks a bit stunned. “N-no, I’ve never—never needed one?”

“Mine’s still in good standing,” Tim answers. “But if Martin needs one, that’d be—what, four weeks, at a minimum?”

“Jon, I asked when you would be able to leave,” Elias says, mildly enough but with a bit of steel behind it. “Your assistants need to stay here. We do need to get all of this straightened out still, and there’s research that needs to be done from here. You can relay whatever information you find back to the Archives, and I’m sure they can assist you if needed, but really, the Institute can’t spare the funds to reimburse more than one of you for an extended trip.”

Jon is pretty sure that’s a lie, but he knows Elias won’t reimburse them, and he also knows that neither Tim nor Martin can actually afford to pay their own way to come along, not with the house payments and Martin’s mother’s medical bills. He sighs heavily and fights to maintain eye contact with Elias. “I can get a flight out Sunday night or Monday morning.”

“Monday will be fine,” Elias says without batting an eyelash. Jon knows Sunday, statistically speaking, is the most expensive day to fly, so anything to save the Institute a few pence, he supposes. “Well, it seems you’ve all done marvelously well. I think you all deserve to take a half-day today. With pay. Finish up what you need to do here, and you can leave at twelve. Jon, do keep me appraised of your flight information.” He flashes them an absolutely terrifying smile, turns on his heel, and leaves the room.

The second the door shuts behind him, Jon sags, bracing himself against the table. “God.”

Sasha collapses into a chair, looking absolutely wiped out. “Tell me about it.”

“Hold on.” Martin picks up Jon’s mug, then Sasha’s, and slips out of the room.

Tim tentatively reaches out and touches Jon’s arm. “Sit down before you fall down. You look almost as bad as she does.”

“I’m all right.” Jon sits down anyway, grateful for Tim’s concern.

A phone buzzes from somewhere; Jon instinctively reaches for his pocket before remembering that he hasn’t replaced it yet. He spent longer than he should have trying to resurrect his shattered phone after Martin silently handed him its remains, but finally had to give up. “Is that yours, Tim?”

“No, I think it’s Martin’s.”

With that rare sort of timing that almost never happens, Martin comes back in, bearing two brimming mugs of tea; he hands one to Sasha, then one to Jon. He has to bend over to do it, and Jon brushes a quick kiss against his cheek as it comes past before he loses his nerve, then tries to play it off like he didn’t notice he did it. “Your phone went off.”

Martin’s ears are pink, and he goes to pick up his phone rather quickly. He actually snorts with laughter and shakes his head, a slightly amused smile on his face as he taps out a reply.

“Everything okay?” Tim asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s from Melanie. Just says ‘Jet lag sucks balls.’ I’m guessing she’s back in town.” Martin slips his phone into his pocket and sighs. “What do we do now?”

“Unfortunately,” Jon mutters, “I think we do what Elias said. Finish up what we’re doing here, and leave early.” He looks over at Sasha. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sasha manages a smile that even Jon can tell is fake, then drops it immediately and sighs. “I was trying to keep on top of how much he knew, or thought we knew. It’s a weird sort of balancing act…thing. Like keeping just the right tension on a rope.”

“Sasha.” Martin sounds upset. “You were reading his mind?”

“Just—skimming the surface,” Sasha protests.

Jon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You have to stop doing that. I know it’s tempting. God knows I know that. But you can’t just—and you knew he was coming. Was that intentional?”

“Sort of. It’s not like I’m constantly trying to read his mind or whatever, but…I don’t know. I just got a sense of…something.”

“All right, Gwen Stacey,” Tim says with a smirk. “Jon’s right, though, you’ve got to quit feeding it or it’s going to start feeding on you.”

Sasha sighs heavily. “I’m…trying to try.”

“Well, it’s a start.” Jon takes a sip of tea.

They get the room straightened up, then head back into the Archives. Martin keeps periodically replying to text messages on his phone, but the others don’t ask. It’s not until Jon, having brought his laptop out to join the others, is finalizing his booking that he frowns at his screen and looks up at the others. “Melanie wants to know if the rest of you’d like to join us for lunch, seeing as we’ve got the afternoon off and everything.”

Jon hesitates. On the one hand, he’d like to decline; he and Melanie tend to prick at each other whenever they interact, despite his best intentions. On the other hand, he admittedly wants to spend as much time with Tim and Martin as he can before he leaves on this trip. Heaven knows how long he’ll be gone and he’ll miss them, he knows that.

“If I’m included in that,” he says at last, “I’d be honored.”

They lock up at twelve and head to the pub Jon has begun to think of as “theirs”, even though they don’t go often. It’s cool and overcast, and there are definite signs it rained earlier, most notably the worms on the sidewalk. Jon notices Martin carefully avoiding treading on them and reaches over to take his hand comfortingly just as Tim throws his arm around his shoulders from the other side. It makes Sasha laugh, which makes them laugh, too, and at least gets Martin to stop watching his feet.

Pat waves when they come in and gestures to one of the tables, and Martin steps forward with a warm smile as Melanie King rises from a chair and meets him with a hug that would probably make Jon jealous if he didn’t know Martin was gay, and also if he had any right to be jealous. “God, it is…surprisingly good to see you.”

Martin huffs a laugh. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

Melanie actually laughs and gives Martin a friendly punch on the arm. Martin laughs in earnest as he reels back in an exaggerated manner, rubbing at his arm. “Ow! Hey, I need that!”

“Sure.” Melanie turns and offers Sasha a smile and her hand. “Sasha, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too.” Sasha shakes her hand, then turns slightly. “Sorry, don’t think we’ve met.”

Jon turns, too, and his brain pulls up short. She’s changed up her hairstyle and shed her glasses, there’s a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of her t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure there are a couple additional holes in her ears, but the smile is unmistakable to someone who’s spent six years running from it.

“Georgie,” he stammers.

Georgie Barker’s smile gets a bit more uncertain, but there’s at least no hostility in her eyes. “Jon, hello. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I, ah—” Jon gestures vaguely, either at Martin or at Melanie, he’s not sure which.

Melanie shrugs. “I did say the invitation was open to everyone. Kind of didn’t expect you to accept, to be honest, but—”

“Frankly, it’s been a shit month and we’re an all-or-nothing deal right now,” Martin says. He looks slightly quizzical and slightly worried as he eyes Georgie. “I—did I talk to you on the phone once?”

“Right, introductions. Georgie Barker, Martin Blackwood, Sasha James, and—” Melanie waves at Tim. “I actually haven’t got a clue who you are.”

“There are some who call me….Tim?” Tim quips with an arch of the eyebrows.

It’s the right thing to say to diffuse the tension, especially as Melanie and Martin both let out exaggerated groans as Georgie, who consumed every bit of media even vaguely associated with Arthurian legend during a time when she was obsessed enough to qualify as a minor expert on the subject, bursts into laughter. The six of them arrange themselves around the table as Pat brings over a tray of pints, then takes their food orders and heads off to get them together.

Martin takes a sip of his pint and evidently starts to speak three times before saying in a carefully neutral voice, “I hope you had a…successful trip.”

Melanie lifts an eyebrow at him. “You were a lot less cagey before. Is it them?”

“No, I’m a bit tired,” Martin says. “Like I said, it’s been…a lot.” He hesitates, glancing at Georgie for a brief second, then evidently gives up. “Remember how I said we all had…weird stuff we could do? My thing is that I can make people answer questions when I ask them. And if I’m tired or not really paying attention, sometimes I do it without meaning to, and that’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Melanie folds her arms over her chest. “Prove it.”

Martin hesitates. “Okay, um…what made you so upset when I asked if you wanted to come to lunch with me when we met?”

“If you weren’t a bloke, you’d be exactly my type and I had just a second where I wondered if I was actually a lesbian,” Melanie answers automatically, then blinks. “Fuck.”

Martin’s face catches fire. Tim grins and winks. “That just proves you’ve got taste.”

“Yeah, well, still.” Melanie presses her lips tightly together. “S’pose I can’t get too mad. I did tell you to prove it. Not your fault I didn’t actually expect it to work.” She snorts. “Successful? Yeah, I guess. I found out what I went to find out. And I didn’t die, so…promise kept?” She shrugs. “I owe you the whole story, but maybe not here.”

“Come by the Institute on Monday,” Sasha offers. “We can get your statement—oh, right.” She looks at Jon. “That okay with you?”

“No, that’s fine. Ah, take your pick on who you want to tell it to,” Jon says to Melanie, indicating the other three. “I promise you don’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind all that much,” Melanie says with a sideways glance at Georgie. “You’re not…actually that bad to talk to. At least you’re trying not to be a prick.”

Georgie turns a laugh into a cough. Jon studiously avoids looking at her. “Thank you, I think, but I didn’t mean that in a ‘you can choose to talk to someone else’ way. I meant that as in ‘I’m leaving on a business trip Monday morning, so I won’t even be there.’”

“A business trip—for an Archivist? What, are you going to the Library of Alexandria or something?”

“No, the last one blew that up,” Tim says under his breath.

Jon kicks Tim under the table. “Beijing. My…predecessor traveled there some time before her death, but she didn’t leave any notes behind on what she may have learned there. So, lucky me, I get to follow behind her and try to pick up a three-year-old trail.”

“You can’t tell me the idea of piecing together something like that doesn’t appeal to you,” Georgie says, sounding amused. “What’s your—hang on, what was it called—your PFX count these days?”

“I haven’t—yes, all right, I suppose the idea of the hunt’s not altogether unwelcome,” Jon admits. “I just…would really rather not be doing it right now. For God’s sake, I only just got back from my last—unexpected absence.”

Martin’s hand tightens on his glass. Tim takes a huge swallow of his. Georgie looks back and forth between the two of them, then frowns at Jon. “So why are you leaving so quickly? If it’s been three years, it’s not like the clues are going anywhere.”

“Yes, but the situation is…somewhat time-sensitive.”

“Critical,” Martin supplies.

“Life-or-death, you might say,” Tim offers.

Georgie’s frown deepens. “You’re an Archivist. Which I’m still wrapping my brain around, by the way. You were a researcher, Jon. I know you don’t just have a degree in library science lying around.”

“No,” Jon says with a sigh. “The Archives at the Magnus Institute are…interesting, let’s put it that way. Library training in the actual Archivist is surprisingly less important than you might think. Besides, we have Martin, and what he doesn’t know about organizing and categorizing isn’t worth knowing.”

“Christ.” Martin buries his face one hand. Both Sasha and Melanie snicker at him. If the two of them are going to be friends, Jon thinks, God help them all.

Only Georgie can manage to frown while simultaneously arching an eyebrow in a knowing fashion. Jon tries very hard to pretend he doesn’t understand what she thinks she knows. “So you have a degree in library science.”

“No,” Martin says, voice still muffled by his palm. “I don’t have a degree. But I worked in the library at the Institute for ten years before I got assigned to the Archives, so I kind of know what I’m doing.”

“Right. Still. What do you have to do, as an Archivist, in China, that is life or death?”

Protect my team, Jon wants to say but doesn’t. The ritual, according to the Primes, can’t succeed; Orsinov’s Unknowing will collapse on itself. They’re probably going to try to stop it anyway, because he doesn’t doubt that Orsinov will survive the ritual’s failure and try again, and they can’t let anyone else fall prey to that. This world tour, retracing Gertrude’s steps, won’t give them any information to help them with that. But Elias doesn’t know they know that, and Jon can’t risk what he might do to the people he loves if he doesn’t obey orders.

“It’s…a long story,” he tries.

Georgie shrugs. “I’ve done my recordings for the week and I’ve got plenty of time for editing. And I thought you got off early today.”

Pat turns up then with everyone’s lunch. Jon waits until he heads back behind the bar to say, “I don’t…know where to begin, honestly. Trust me when I say it’s all pretty unbelievable.”

“You’re an archivist. We left believable behind a while ago.”

“Ha, ha.” Jon gives Georgie his best glare. As usual, she sticks her tongue out at him and rolls her hand for him to continue. “I—really, I don’t know where to—”

“Jon.” Martin sets down his glass, reaches over, and covers Jon’s hand with his own. Jon meets his eyes instinctively. “In thirty words or less, what is the story behind this trip?”

“There are monsters in the world, tied to different fears,” Jon answers immediately. “They’re trying to reshape the world in their own image and basically kickstart the Apocalypse. We’re trying to stop them.”

Martin sits back, looking miserable, and it’s only then Jon registers the wash of static receding from his mind. “Sorry, Jon. I really should have asked first.”

Jon grabs Martin’s hand before he can pull it away and squeezes. “I’d have sat here dithering to the end of time if you hadn’t. Thank you, Martin.”

Martin manages a tentative smile. Georgie’s frown has eased back a little. “Huh. How many of these things are there?”

“Monsters? Or rituals?” Jon blinks at Georgie. “You believe me?”

“Well, yeah.” Georgie waves a hand as if to say duh. “It’s not like I didn’t know there are monsters in the world.”

Sasha’s hand tightens on her fork, and she pushes back from the table abruptly. “Be right back. I—I need a minute.” She strides purposefully for the front door.

“Sasha, don’t—” Jon begins to call after her, but too late; she’s out the door.

“Did I say something wrong?” Georgie looks concerned.

Martin sighs heavily. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’ve seen…monsters before.”

“Yeah? What’s that got to do with anything?” Georgie asks with a deepening frown.

“Oh…damn.” Jon looks at Georgie, and now he can feel it, too—the static building behind his eyes, an almost imperceptible itch beneath his skin. This shouldn’t be happening, he’s taken two statements already this week, first Michael’s and then Tim and Martin’s, and even if Sasha siphoned off most of that one…he can’t possibly need one this badly, not now. But it’s not need, it’s want, it’s a desire at this point, so he can fight it…

“The Institute serves one of those fear things we’re talking about,” Tim tells her, his voice subdued. “In our case, it’s about knowledge and secrets and…hidden information and stuff like that. We usually just call it the Eye, it’s quicker than most of the other names. But one of the ways it sort of feeds itself is with other people’s stories of their spooky encounters. Usually with something touched by one of the other beings.”

“You’ve got a story to tell,” Martin explains. “The Eye wants it. And Sasha and Jon can both…” He hesitates, looking at Jon. “Sense it?”

“Better than saying ‘smell it,’ I suppose,” Jon says softly. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, forcing the static back.

Georgie blinks. “I mean…I’ll tell you about it. If you want.”

“That…would probably not be a good idea. I can’t—we can’t take but so many statements in any given period of time.” Jon opens his eyes, feeling a bit calmer. “Not without wearing ourselves out, or hurting ourselves. And I’ve had two already this week.”

“And we’ve had one each,” Tim adds, gesturing to himself and Martin. “Right? You just read—”

“Statement of Manuela Dominguez, regarding her unconventional religious beliefs and their intersection with her project aboard the space station Daedalus,” Martin recites. “And you read yours yesterday, it was—”

“Not, as it turns out, a Stranger statement. The Web. Statement of Darren Harlow, regarding a failed psychology experiment at the University of Surrey.” Tim rubs his forehead and sighs. “Actually, I need to talk to you two about that one. We may have a problem.”

Melanie looks back and forth between the two of them, blinking. Jon sighs, too. “Anyway, yes, it’s…there’s a lot. The ritual we’re trying to stop right now is the Stranger’s. It’s—kind of the opposite of the Eye? The ritual’s called the Unknowing. We’re still piecing together what it’s all about, but anyway, that’s what I’m about to go haring off around the world about. Which I would really rather not do, but I don’t have much of a choice. Our boss made that perfectly clear.” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Sasha comes back in, looking much calmer, and slips back into her seat with an apology. Melanie looks at Tim. “So what about you, then? If he can ask questions and make people answer, and they can tell when someone’s got a story—”

“It’s not quite that. It’s more—” Sasha spreads out her hands. “Less stories and more secrets. Things people haven’t told. At least, that’s how it is for me. The ones who come to make statements and will talk to anyone, they’re not as interesting to me. It’s the ones who just…don’t want to talk about it, I guess. Or choose not to. Sometimes I know things without meaning to, but I’m trying to throttle that back. Jon is more…all of it.”

Jon nods. “I have the—the question thing, too. And the knowing, although it’s not just hidden things, it’s facts or important information. It’s not as bad as it could be, but it’s getting worse. On top of that, there’s the compulsion to read out the statements, and…it’s just a lot.”

“None of which actually answers my question,” Melanie says. “What did you get out of all this?”

“Oh. I can…look at people, or things, and see if they’ve had anything to do with one of the fear…things,” Tim says. “They glow different colors.”

“You can see auras,” Georgie supplies.

“Not—exactly. I mean, I can’t say ‘oh, you have a calm personality’ or ‘you’re a very troubled person’ or anything like that. But if you’ve bumped into one of the powers, if I concentrate, I can see where it marked you and…usually figure out from there.”

Georgie folds her hands on the table and meets his eye. “What color is mine, then? Or am I making it up?”

Tim hesitates, then takes a deep breath. His eyes go slightly unfocused, and Jon feels the faint crackle of static—not quite the same as when Martin asks questions or Sasha blurts out a secret, but close, like the dial on a disused radio station turned a single click in a different direction. After a moment, Tim’s shoulders relax and he blinks. “White. Bright white. The one you’ve met is Terminus. The End.” He hesitates. “Death. Am I right?”

There’s a short pause before Georgie looks at Jon and says, “You’ve got a good bunch here.”

Jon looks at both Tim and Martin and says, softly, “I know.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartim #emotional manipulation tw #implied blackmail tw #slight misuse of beholding powers

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ducktracy · 4 years

Text

173. a sunbonnet blue (1937)

release date: august 21st, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: berneice hansell (girl mouse), mel blanc (sheriff, george washington, various), billy bletcher (villain)

the second entry in his mice trilogy (that is, ain’t we got fun, this, and the mice will play), tex avery revisits the roots of earlier merrie melodies to give us this cutesy tale about mice running rampant in a hat shop at night.

akin to the countless of other “come to life at night” cartoons of both the past and future, we open to the facade of a hat shop -- snobby hatte shoppe, that is. the streamlined, art deco exterior feels straight out of a frank tashlin cartoon. truck inside with a multi-plane pan across the dark, empty, vast shop. very moody and eye-catching.

a mouse hole in the wall is now the focus of the camera, where a trepidatious mouse pokes his head out warily. he tiptoes furtively along--the foreshortening and perspective on the backgrounds is very nice, again quite tashlin-esque--the shop, pausing right out in the open. silence except for the music score... until, in an unmistakably avery move, the mouse bellows “HEY! ANYBODY HERE!?” without waiting for an answer, he darts back into his hole.

the coast is clear. delighted, the mouse hops into his conveniently placed elevator, leading right towards a light switch. this cartoon does take extra steps to make lighting a priority, but some cases are more successful than others: as the elevator doors open, revealing a pool of light, the mouse momentarily becomes transparent as he passes the open door, thanks to difficulty with the double-exposure. nevertheless, mr. mouse turns on the lights, prompting the black button above the on/off switch to ram right into his face, sending him falling to the ground and landing safely on top of a top hat.

mr. mouse asserts that he and his mice friends have no company: they’re free to party. after all of the mice have swarmed the place from their hole, the mouse proves himself to be a casanova as he chews the shape of a heart into the wood to impress his sweetie, voiced by the giggly berneice hansell. his efforts pay off as his girl croons “oh george, you’re so cute!” i’ll never get tired of hearing hansell’s squeaky voice for as long as i live. the love-birds run to join their friends, but have unexpected company: a nefarious, billy bletcher voiced mouse. yes, folks! it’s a kidnapping picture! the kind that dominated the first 5 years of warner bros cartoons all too prominently!

in preparation for the song number, both mice coyly pose with the hats mentioned in the song, with villain mouse crawling under a nefarious looking cap of his own to keep a keen eye out on the missus. the pans from the lovebirds to the villain is well executed. it’s not as blindingly fast as frank tashlin’s transitions, but it doesn’t need to be, either. there’s definitely a level of control present, which works to the cartoon’s advantage and disadvantage. primarily the latter.

a mouse turns off the light-switch, another turning on a headlamp to use as a spotlight, which segues us into our song number. the song number is cute, but that’s about all it is. it’s surprisingly prominent, calling back to the earlier days of the merrie melodies where the songs were full-on songs, not sharp, witty, tongue-in-cheek quips as was becoming the norm for 1937. another pan demonstrates that the sunbonnet blue and the yellow straw hat getting wedded. the song sequence is unremarkable, but there is a bit of that avery bite as we get a rather dismal view of married life: sunbonnet mama is doing all of the housework while straw hat dad reads the paper, paying no mind to their plethora of children running around.

we’re treated with more lighting effects as the mouse operating the headlamp now uses colored visors as a substitute for lighting gels. some of the colors certainly translate better than others (that last red color in the sequence muddies up the drawings an awful bit.) nevertheless, the happy couple are greeted with cheers and applause after their cutesy little number is complete.

thankfully, irv spence swoops in to save the day from monotony, adding some much-needed zest and fervor with his animation of “the three ratz brothers”. the clumsy brothers perform a vaudeville routine after breaking out of a dunce cap, singing “i haven’t got a hat”, the merrie melody that marks the debut of porky, beans and co. just 2 years prior. the entire ratz bros. sequence is very well done and difficult to capture in photos and words: one of those scenes that you need to see for yourself. irv’s poses are strong, defined yet loose and rubbery, and his facial expressions are satisfyingly goofy.

the rats burst into a medley of songs, the mood drastically changing as the engineer mouse from before switches out gels. green lighting sparks a mournful dirge of “i haven’t got a hat” (with one of the brothers even crying hysterically), yellow lighting prompts one of the brothers to recite ted lewis’ catchphrase of “is everybody happy?” lighting turns blue to reflect the unanimous outcry of “NO!” again, this is a great sequence--THIS is what tex avery is about. it’s strikingly noticeable that his heart wasn’t quite in this short, but for just a minute, he’s allowed to get a word in. song numbers change, as do moods, as do colors, the rapid pace transitions once again tashlin-esque in their execution. the three brothers end the number in a lively rendition of “the lady in red”, staring at the audience with crossed eyes and big grins. gone too soon!

with the festivities over and done with, the peace now serves as the perfect transition for some prime kidnapping. the villain mouse sneaks up to the girl using his hat as a cover, and, predictably, snatches her away. george does a bit of an avery take as his ears elongate in shock--he rushes to bang a spoon against a nearby military hat. they’d have plenty of military gags to work with in the coming years, as we’ll most definitely see once WWII breaks out. for now, george summons his army of mice to go after the villain and save the day.

memories of harman and ising past revisit us once again as we get a taste of a tried and true--well, mainly tried--gag: mouse blows trumpet, prompting his pants to fall down. more hat gags, such as a line of mice marching beneath band leader’s hats with merely their legs exposed, until irv spence breaks up the monotony by animating a rat sheriff resting beneath a sheriff's hat. george hurriedly alerts him to his dilemma, prompting the sheriff to exclaim “WHY DOESN’T SOMEBODY TELL ME THESE THINGS!?”, a catchphrase whose origin is a bit muddy--some attribute it to radio show personality fred allen, others to a listerine commercial, it’s even the name of a song. it bubbled up in a number of 1937 warner bros cartoons (porky’s badtime story being one example.) nevertheless, spence’s animation is lively like always, his zest not taken for granted.

after the sheriff blows on his whistle, summoning a police and fire brigade (all spawning from police hats and fireman hats respectively), a mouse hiding beneath a cowboy hat bellows “BUCK BENNY RIDES AGAIN!”, prompting a slack-jawed, hayseed mouse to respond “hello, buck!” both are a reference to jack benny’s radio show, particularly jack benny’s cowboy persona, (as you can guess) buck benny. elsewhere, we get some more gags of the mice and their “factions”, including football playing mice and their respective cheerleaders. finally, we get a distance shot of all of the hats running together. it’s a nice bit of animation, and the lively underscore of “i haven’t got a hat” does contribute an air of jolliness to the sequence.

elsewhere, george darts through rows of hats, the sounds coming out of his mouth being the unmistakable laugh of daffy duck’s. in the midst of his franting HOOHOO!ing, george stumbles upon another george: washington. once again, irv spence animates the exchange between both mice, the Regular George asking “which way did they go?”, prompting washington to arbitrarily tack on “i cannot tell a lie: they went that way.” the scene has potential to be funny--i would have loved to have seen the washington mouse act all uppity and snooty--but falls rather flat instead.

we’re treated with a blind mouse gag (because that’s a knee-slapper, huh?) who points george in the direction of the chase. kidnapper and victim dash over a staircase of meticulously placed hats, pursued by george. george jumps onto a top hat, flattening it, and then swings the hat around like a frisbee. the frisbee effectively slides beneath the villain, sending him sliding. again, another spence scene, with some rather intriguing animation, especially that of george winding up the hat to throw.

the villain loses the girl in the process, and now flies empty handed into a knight’s helmet after the top hat springs up and launches him across the room. george closes the helmet, placing the villain in “jail”, prompting him to grumble the ever popular fibber mcgee and molly catchphrase “t’ain’t funny, mcgee!” mel blanc voices the line instead of billy bletcher for reasons unbeknownst to me. meanwhile, the mouse sweethearts reunite. george excitedly whispers into his sweetie’s ear--she nods, prompting george to do a dance of excitement while the audience waits with bated breath.

their grand secret? a wedding. the happy couple march down the aisle lined with hats, complete to a rather jazzy rendition of “here comes the bride” (which makes me think of a similar scene in a gandy goose and sourpuss terrytoon, animated by the great carlo vinci.) the officiator reflects a burst of avery humor as he gives a hilariously abbreviated ceremony: “do you.... dododododdododododo... do you?” “i do!”

with weddings come wedding gifts, and our mice are no exception. the bride does the honors of opening the box, and husband soon follows. wife peers inside and grows rather bashful, a flurry of giggles. she encourages her husband to peer in--he does so, giving another daffy-esque “WOOHOO!” of shock as he stares at the camera in befuddlement. we iris out on the big reveal, which also has the honors of being tex avery’s first use of live action in a cartoon:

this is a rather frustrating entry. i don’t like to hold tex avery up as if he’s some monolith--his cartoons aren’t perfect, as we see here. he has weaknesses and faults like everybody else. but the fact that we’ve seen what he’s capable of, it’s hard not to compare it to works like these: the letdown is inevitable. it’s clear his heart was not at all in this one. it instead feels like a merrie melody from the 1934-1935 season--the art style is the only thing boosting it from comparisons to harman and ising. it’s just not a strong entry at all. there’s hardly any bite to it, it plays the game much too safe. irv spence’s scenes are the shining stars of the cartoon, especially that interlude with the ratz brothers. that is true avery, that is what he is capable of, but the rest of the cartoon just doesn’t follow through. painfully formulaic, unremarkable, forgettable. you’re better than this, tex! i will give it points for artistic experimentation: the lighting effects, while not executed perfectly, were certainly ambitious, and some of the backgrounds are very tasteful. but, as a whole, this is a very forgettable cartoon that you can easily skip. but, for you curious types such as myself, link!

#lt #a sunbonnet blue #looney tunes #avery #reviews #long post

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jihyosforehead · 5 years

Note

can we pls have dubchaetzu fluff please

i like how super polite u were and said please twice omg absolute cutie uwuuu (also im so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for 72 years)

…

“hey dude, did you need to grab any food?”

chaeyoung looks up from her laptop to peer at nayeon.

“what?” chaeyoung asks, sheepishly.

“i asked if you needed to buy any food. you know, from the line?” she says patiently. she throws a hand behind her, and chaeyoung’s eyes follow the movement; jeongyeon and momo are waving so frantically at them that they’ve begun to cause a scene.

“nah, i brought something from home. it’s leftovers day,” chaeyoung tells her with a bright grin, happiness coating her voice. nayeon is completely unable to help herself from patting chaeyoung’s head affectionately. she leaves with a final head pat, storming over to grab momo from backing into a group of bystanders.

chaeyoung pulls out her lunchbox from her bag and a small blue post-it note flutters down to rest on the table in the most dramatic way possible. black ink lettering the paper in careful, delicate strokes.

chaeyoungie,

i think you’re eggcellent :)

there’s a drawing of three eggs in a sizzling frying pan with smiley faces.

a goofy grin creeps across her face and doesn’t leave even when she’s home in bed, staring at the ceiling.

…

dahyun sighs heavily. she was so run down from assignments and homework. there was a six page essay about like? space or something? a group assignment about pollution. and her personal favourite: studying for the end of unit chemistry test. but for now. dahyun is going to eat some lunch.

sana and mina are sitting across from her chatting. or flirting. who knows with these two sometimes. dahyun is eating in peace. dahyun is chewing. dahyun is enjoying her chicken. dahyun is not thinking about homework -

“what’s that, dahyunnie?” sana asks suddenly, ending her train of thought. dahyun looks up at her mid-chew, making a confused noise.

sana snatches a blue post-it note at dahyun’s elbow and her eyes scan over it quickly and then holds it to her chest and sighs theatrically. mina shaking her head exasperatedly before handing the note over.

dahyunnie,

all you knead is love.

under it, is a drawing of a bag of flour kneading a ball of dough.

dahyun somehow powers through her study guide and gets started on the essay.

…

saturday morning finds chaeyoung two hours into an eight hour shift at the local music shop. it’s been a really hectic day, an almost unending stream of customers keeping her occupied since opening.

“excuse me do you have this poster in stock?” “well, can you check in the back?” “why don’t you carry one direction vinyls?” “by the way, someone knocked down the display stand with all the christmas CDs. yeah i didn’t see.”

she barely had a second to breathe. and plus her co-worker had called in late so now chaeyoung was behind on inventory.

but.

it’s leftovers day again and chaeyoung is looking forward to her ham and cheese sandwich. but mostly she’s interested in the strawberry tart she’s going to eat for dessert. there’s another blue post-it note, this time it’s stuck to her apple.

chaeyoung grins widely at the familiar careful, black lettering.

chaengie!

i’m soy into you. :D

there’s a carefully drawn piece of sushi and a bottle of soy sauce directly under it.

chaeyoung feels her day immediately brighten, warmth tightening across her heart. a shitty customer isn’t a match for a truly solid pun.

…

there isn’t really a word to describe how much dahyun detested group assignments. her team members had all conveniently forgotten to email their drafts by the agreed on date.

“dahyun i’m sorry, i just haven’t had time” “i totally forgot about that my bad” “i had practice all week!”

and now. they were running behind. (not really).

but they were running behind according to dahyun’s very well put together, well-crafted, truly excellent planning board! (they were two days behind). she’d have to completely overhaul it and adjust everything.

(the assignment wasn’t due for another two weeks).

dahyun slumped in her uncomfortable plastic chair, pretending not to look put off by how animatedly her group members discussing something completely irrelevant over their uneaten lunch. she pulls out her juice-box with a huff, stabbing the straw in aggressively. she yanks out her cutlery and a blue post-it note floats out gently behind it. dahyun snatches it out of the air, brows furrowed.

dubu!!

i lava you!

there’s a picture of a volcano with red lava spilling from the top to form a heart. dahyun feels her frustration leave, warm affection in its place. okay so maybe, she could probably loosen up her deadlines. maybe.

dahyun’s definitely seen this pun. it has chaeyoung written all over it.

…

chaeyoung’s perched at the edge of her seat, munching absentmindedly on carrot stick, occasionally dipping it into an unidentifiable sauce. it tasted vaguely like mayonnaise and pickles but it was kind of good so she’s not really going to question what’s in it. instead she’s typing rapidly at her laptop, sighing every few minutes.

she was so so so behind on the written section of her portfolio. she’s not really sure why she left it last minute knowing full well she had a whole twenty pages of her own work to analyse. she chews more aggressively at her carrot sticks.

jihyo pokes at her shoulder. hard.

“you have to relax.”

“i can’t!” chaeyoung tells her, obscurely aware that she sounded very panicked, “i have so many words to shit out! and so few minutes to shit them out in!!”

jihyo gives her a deeply unamused smile. chaeyoung can’t find in her to care that she’s cursed in front of her mother.

“you’ll be fine,” jihyo says, firmly. “when’s it due anyway?”

“in two days!”

“you’ll be fine.” jihyo says, sounding completely unconvincing. chaeyoung leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. “here, eat something.”

she’s digging in chaeyoung’s bag and then holds out a banana and a neatly packaged container of salad. there’s a blue post-it note stuck to the lid.

chaeng

i’m always thinking a bao you :P

there’s a picture of three baos, lined up in a row, with tiny pink hearts between each one. jihyo’s lips are twitching into a smile at chaeyoung’s enamoured expression. chaeyoung thinks dahyun’s really outdone herself this time.

(chaeyoung hands in her portfolio in on time and also gets a 97%).

…

dahyun’s aware of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. she’s in the bathroom, back against the door, breathing heavily. like she’s escaped a murderer or something. She catches her reflection in the mirror and her hair is sticking up in sixteen different directions, she’s got a weird green stain on her collar and she’s holding a bar of chocolate protectively against her chest.

she’s locked herself in a room away from screaming children. okay. so the children were her cousins. but. they were screaming and she needed a break. there were only so many times she could watch the elmo’s world theme song on repeat. it’s ingrained so deeply in her brain that if aliens kidnapped her and wiped her memory completely, she’s sure that the elmo song would still be embedded in there somewhere. like a sesame street sleeper agent.

and also she wanted to eat her chocolate in secret. if she’d learnt anything, is that kids take the sharing lesson very seriously. especially when it comes to chocolate. especially when it comes to dahyun not sharing her chocolate. there’s a blue post-it note stuck to the back of the packaging.

dubuuu !

you always make me hap-pea :o

there’s a drawing of three peas in a pod and an almost ridiculous amount of emoji faces surrounding the picture. dahyun feels her heart swell at least three sizes. the kids are somehow easier to face.

…

tzuyu watches chaeyoung stick another blue post-it note into her journal, gluing it down to the page carefully, tongue sticking out in concentration. she tries not to notice the intensely deep affection warm her entire body when she notices that the entire page are those post-it puns she’s been giving secretly. chaeyoung’s filling in the blank spaces, seemingly at random with pops of purple and green and little drawings of cookies and yoda.

dahyun is tilting her head to one side, blonde hair falling down her back with her movements; kind of like a puppy, tzuyu thinks, her nose scrunching up at how adorable the sight is. and she tries not to notice the affection grow when dahyun holds both hands up, her index fingers and thumbs forming an L-shape, lips jutted out dramatically, one eye closed, she’s crouching on the floor.

dahyun’s spent the whole afternoon rearranging her blue post-it note collection, and blue-tacking her favourites to her wall.

tzuyu’s aware that dahyun thinks chaeyoung’s been giving her the post-its. and vice versa.

(but she’s completely unaware that dahyun and chaeyoung have known it was her from the second a dopey, proud smile crossed her face when they first showed her their post-it notes.)

they think tzuyu’s proud, dopey smile is their new favourite thing.

right up there with tzuyu’s heart.

#dubchaeng #chaetzu #dubchaetzu #twice #twice hcs #twice headcannons #twice scenarios #twice imagines #ask #anon #do u know how many puns i sorted through #do u know 1!!!#like at least 26 #i feel like got a cavity reading them all lmaoo ╰（‵□′）╯#anyways whats gooooood

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grahamparrish · 4 years

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Cat Spray For Mice Fabulous Useful Tips

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Cat Has Not Peed In 2 Days

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#Cat Spray For Mice Fabulous Useful Tips #Just Spray Cat

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sirkkasnow · 5 years

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07 Think Twice About So-Called Safety Gear

Ao3 link

07/16/13 Tuesday

Ford claimed the action camera and its vest and disappeared out into the woods off and on for the next couple of days. Clary and the rest of the Shack crew were all firmly admonished not to venture out onto the trails.

That meant she was back to morning sessions on the laptop, doing stuff that looked to be split between actual work and sending updates to family. Early one morning he caught her singing softly into the earpiece - a lullaby, he thought, but couldn’t be sure because she spotted him immediately and slipped away towards the woods again.

Stan kept working on the station wagon in his free hours. The bodywork would still be an issue but he was getting close to a running engine. That left him with mixed feelings - the house and the summer would belong to him and Ford and the kids again. On the other hand she’d be gone.

Clary took their adventures in stride. Even when Ford returned with erratically-focused video of a crystalline stag glinting as it stalked, tinkling, through the darkest and densest of the pine groves way out beyond the edge of town, she held. Went pale, sure. She asked a few calm pointed questions, then filed it away in whatever mental folder allowed people to deal with the kind of perpetual craziness that hung over Gravity Falls.

But she didn’t run, and she made breakfast the next morning, and went out to the swap meet with Mabel as though nothing much had happened. They made a pretty pair on their bicycles, Clary’s mountain bike with the road tires swapped back in and Mabel’s pink banana-seated tassel-handlebarred glitter machine sparkling in the bright sunshine. Hours later they rolled back in with the little bike trailer in tow and loaded to overflowing with bungee-corded bags.

“What’d you find, kids?” Stan called over as they headed into the house, Clary shouldering two-thirds of the loot.

“Stuff!” Mabel yelled back, firing off a deliberate wink as she turned to head up the stairs. Clary’s cheeks were red with more than effort and her smile a bit sheepish as the door banged closed.

Oh, hell, they were conspiring now. Stan caught himself smiling in return well after they’d gone, rubbing at the back of his neck.

The local mayhem level had been about par for Gravity Falls, though Clary had endured more of that nonsense in the last couple of days than any mere tourist should have to. When Mabel suggested a fishing trip Stan immediately agreed. They could all use a peaceful day for once.

The whole process inevitably got more complicated than it should have.

“Mabel, come on.” Stan wasn’t exactly a dab hand with a needle, but he wasn’t bad. Stitching down letters over breakfast with a ten-minute deadline was a bit much though.

“You are going to make her a matching hat and we are going to have a fantastic time at the lake, got it?” She waved a forkful of pancake at him and he dutifully accepted the bite while tacking the R into place. Backwards. Dammit.

“Are you even gonna let her get any breakfast before we go, since y’banished her from the kitchen? Ow - “ He stuck the needle-pricked fingertip in his mouth for a moment, then started in on the Y as she glared at him.

“I sent Dipper out with an egg on toast. She’ll be fine. We’ll be feasting on trout by tonight anyway, right? Right?” Mabel nudged him in the ribs and he sighed, tugging the last knot tight and snapping the thread with his teeth. The fishing hat looked about as haphazard as all his other attempts.

“I don’t know about this, pumpkin. Maybe she doesn’t know how t’fish.”

“Then you can teach her. Come ooooonnnn.” Mabel latched onto his hand and tugged. Stan plopped the four fishing hats on top of the tackle box and managed to stuff the whole assembly under the other arm, allowing himself to be dragged out into daylight. Dipper and Clary leaned against the Stanleymobile, chatting as she finished off the last bite of toast.

“Mornin’, everyone. Ready t’play kings an’ queens of the lake for a day?” Clary looked up, huge sunglasses shading her face. She was buttoned up to the chin and covered past the hips in a voluminous white long-sleeved shirt, he assumed to protect her fishbelly-pale hide. A tote bag was slung over her shoulder. Mabel grabbed her hat and Dipper’s out from the heap jammed under Stan’s arm, then plucked the new one out of the pile and dashed off. “Hey, come on, that’s not finished!”

Mabel pressed the hat into Clary’s hands. Stan headed right to the back of the car and got it open one-handed, dropping the tackle box in, struggling not to be too embarrassed by the whole thing. Clary slipped around the rear fender to stand beside him, reaching into the trunk to rearrange the poles and the rest of the gear so it’d fit more efficiently.

“What’s this?” she asked, low-voiced, tugging the hat out from under her arm.

Stan squared off the tackle box again and refused to look at her. “Mabel wouldn’t let me leave until I made you one. Said it was nicer if we all had matchin’ hats or somethin’.”

At the edge of his field of view he could see her fingers smoothing out the lettering: C L A R Y in bright colors snipped from random scraps of fabric. Clary popped it on her head, grinning in the brim’s shade. “A Mr. Mystery original, straight from the hands of the master himself. A real collector’s piece. Aren’t you supposed to be charging a premium for these?”

“Well - well, yeah, maybe - hey. Hey!” She skipped back out of reach, then dove around the side of the car with a giggle. “At least let me fix the R!”

“No way, Pines, it’s mine now!” She slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind her.

Stan thunked his brow against the edge of the trunk lid in pleased mortification, then banged it shut and headed to the driver’s side. Dipper and Mabel were already regaling Clary with tales of Scuttlebutt Island and the local lake monster, which she was taking in with wary almost-belief. Much of the drive down to the lake was occupied with a lively argument about who had encountered the most annoying anomalies in Gravity Falls. Stan had a ready supply of stories that even the kids groaned over.

“And that is why only your grunkle gets to complain,” he concluded with absolute authority to a chorus of cheerful mockery from his passengers. The Stanleymobile glided into one of the more convenient parking spots, he put it in park, and the doors banged open all at once to disgorge the crew. Clary chased down the kids with her bag, applying sunscreen before letting them run ahead to the shoreline.

Stan started hauling stuff out of the car, tossing in his jacket since the day had warmed up, keeping half an eye on the others. Clary paused, stepped out of her sandals and slathered sunscreen from toes to mid-thigh along her sculpted legs, balancing gracefully on one foot and then the other. He had no excuse whatsoever for watching the whole process and did it anyway as he ducked in and out of the trunk.

Dipper and Mabel were only a minute or two into a splashing contest before he heard her yell truce! to check her phone. A few moments later she was running back up the sand, wide-eyed with alarm, her brother trotting along in her wake. “Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Stan, I’ve got an emergency!”

He was about to start the balancing act required to handle a bunch of beach towels, the tackle box and the fishing poles. “What’s the problem? Someone dyin’?”

“Just the opposite - a birthing! Grenda Jr. is is having a baby right now and Grenda needs me there for emotional support! Grunkle Stan, you gotta let me go.” She was pouring it on thick even for Mabel, hands wringing, and Stan looked at her with open skepticism.

“Sweetheart, you planned out this whole trip an’ we just got everyone down here. Can’t she hold it in or somethin’?”

“Please, Grunkle Stan. It’s not every day I get to witness the wonders of iguana childbirth, and she’s been there for me so many times.” There they were, the patented Mabel puppy eyes. Stan heaved a sigh and saw her fleeting glint of victorious satisfaction. They were gonna have to work on expression control one of these days.

“All right. All right, already, you can stop lookin’ at me like the world’s gonna end. Go take care of Grenda an’ her lizard, the rest of us’ll be fine out here.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Mabel threw her arms around his waist, squashing him in one of those deceptively-innocent powerful hugs of hers - he went oof, then grinned, ruffling her hair. “And I’m taking Dipper for moral support!”

She snagged her twin’s wrist, to Dipper’s surprise and then sudden horror. “Wait, I didn’t agree to this! Mabel! Mabel!”

Stan watched in bemusement as Mabel hauled her brother off up the lake path at double speed, wondering what in the hell she was up to. Clary made her way back to the car and tossed her tote into the front seat, trying not to laugh and mostly failing. “Did we just get dumped?”

“We one hundred percent just got dumped for a lizard.” The grin lingered as Stan turned to her, then faltered as he had to pause for a long look.

She'd undone all her buttons. White cotton drifted loose around her shoulders. The marine blue high-waisted shorts and halter-neck swimsuit top underneath were so retro that the style was older than either of them. Her kerchief was tiny nautical flags on navy silk fluttering at her throat.

Of all the things he might have expected out of her on a summer’s day, something that showed skin had not been on the list at all.

Clary tilted her head, watching him watch her, and her lips curved gradually. “Need a hand with the poles?”

Stan finally unfroze a little, hauling out the tackle box and leaving the towels. “Sure. I've got the rest of it.”

She shouldered two of the four fishing poles. Stan latched the trunk and they walked together towards the dock. “Aren’t you gonna ask me whether I like what I see?” he asked after a while, not quite sure whether he was offended at being probably-deliberately stranded by Mabel or pleased as hell at the company.

“I’m not going to ask a question I know the answer to.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Cocky much? Y’look nice.” More than nice, but she knew that.

“Thank you.”

Stan wrenched his brain around to the task at hand. “So, uh, since it's just us. How are you with boats? Any experience? You can swim, right? Tell me you can swim.”

Clary’s fingers drummed on the haft of one fishing pole. “I'm not great but I promise I'm not going to drown out there. Daddy used to take me out crabbing on the Chesapeake. Never did rod fishing, though. Can you show me some of the basics?”

“Yeah, that I can handle.” They came up on the end of the dock, the Stan O'War moored at its usual spot. Clary looked down at his faithful fishing dinghy and its many dings, then back up at him. Her eyes were unreadable behind the sunglasses but her mouth was quirked in doubt. “Hey, c'mon now, y'can't look at a man's boat like that. She's seen some fierce weather but she holds up just fine.”

“The repairs are your work?”

“'Course they are!”

She smiled faintly. “Then there's nothing to be worried about.”

“Except maybe the local lake monster. Which doesn’t exist, by the way.” Stan stepped down into the little boat, unlocked the storage box bolted down at the back and tossed her Ford's spare life jacket. “Try that on, probably be fine in the chest but we'll have to ratchet in the waist a bit.”

He strapped his own on without any adjustments, the buckles snapping home where they belonged. Clary looked something like an inflated orange sausage in hers at first. Stan helped tighten down the waist straps until it was secure. Damn shame to obscure the view.

“All right. Are you reassured that we're going to survive the day?”

“Y’never know out here. Ready to roll?”

“Show me what you’ve got, Stan.” Clary pressed her right hand into his offered one and stepped down into the centerline of the Stan O'War without even a bobble in the boat’s balance.

“Oh, with absolute pleasure, kid.” An offhand whack or two was enough to get the engine going. The smoke was at a minimum and they chugged out together across the lake’s placid surface. Clary leaned into the modest headwind, hands braced on the rail as he guided the boat in lazy arcs towards his favorite spot.

“There y’go. Peace and quiet, more or less.” There were plenty of other boats out and a few poles, but this was a nice deep bit of the lake, a faint chill radiating off the water providing contrast to the sun’s relentless warmth. “Live or lure?”

Clary hefted the smaller of the two poles. “I have no idea.”

“Congratulations, you get lures today. Less icky an’ less wasted worms while you get used to castin’.” Stan dipped into the tackle box and set her up with a basic lure, no hook, then made her run through a dozen practice casts until he was sure she wouldn’t pierce his ear by mistake in the process. It was clear that she really didn’t know a damned thing about rod fishing, more enthusiastic than efficient, but she caught on quickly.

The fish apparently liked enthusiasm just fine. In the first hour Stan spent more time netting the trout she’d managed to hook than manning his own line. A glow of pleasure lit up her features, shaded with occasional guilt as her catch began to pile up under one of the plank seats. “I guess they like the shinies today.”

“Beginner’s luck, kid, they’re gonna get bored an’ start swarmin’ mine any minute now.”

They didn’t, of course, stupid fickle fish. Eventually he noticed that she’d slowed her pace to something approaching Wendy levels of leisurely. Stan squinted over in suspicion; a corner of her mouth twitched up as she flicked her rod in a long, long cast, reel whirring until the lure finally splashed down. “So how much of town made it out today? I see the local constabulary’s here.”

One of her feet tipped over to indicate the general location of the police patrol boat. There was plenty of lake traffic and the weather had turned out to be perfect, which meant Blubs and Durland were out both to herd this week’s batch of tourists and catch some rays.

Stan glanced that way, then laughed hard enough to rock the boat. “You’re wearin’ a hat and shades. Even if they haven’t chalked it all up to the local gnomes or somethin’ they wouldn’t recognize ya.”

He still wasn’t seeing much action on his side of things, so he started pointing out familiar faces one by one, dropping the name and a bit of background on everyone as he went, buying a quiet laugh here and there. She’d relaxed enough to drape an arm along the rail, legs stretched out with ankles loosely crossed on one of the seats. Uncharacteristic pink daubed her toenails. He wondered idly if that had been Mabel’s doing, then swept Clary over with a single, thoughtful look.

“Y’know,” he said casually into the quiet, dipping into the storage box for a couple bottles of water and tossing her one. She caught it against her chest one-handed. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course!”

Stan tapped the side of his neck. “You’ve got quite a collection of scarves.”

Clary’s attention flicked sharply to him as she braced the pole and opened up her bottle. “I’ve probably got a hundred or so at home and I keep picking them up when I go thrifting. You’re seeing the travel collection, here.”

“So you wear one every day. Heck, y’even slept in one when Ford was draggin’ us along for his all-night concussion marathon.”

“It’s just a scar,” she said, light, patient, practiced. “I’ve had it for years. It’s faded now, but early on I got tired of explaining it to strangers, so I went ahead and made the neckerchief a signature thing. I’m not sure anyone back home would recognize me without one of these, truth be told.”

He cocked a curious brow and she smiled a little wider. “All I can say is that I was young and stupid. You can’t tell me you haven’t picked up a couple in the course of your life.”

That was enough of a brick wall even for Stan. He flashed his left palm, fingers wiggling, then tilted it so the old scar would show a little better. “One or two. This one’s from the grizzly bear I had t’strangle with my bare hands....” Clary bit her lip to stifle a snicker. “What, don’t believe me? Undead hordes, maybe? Manotaur barbecue that got outta hand? Enraged unicorn? C’mon, cut me some slack here.”

She tugged off the sunglasses and abandoned the fishing pole altogether, resting her chin atop folded arms on folded knees. “So what happened? An episode of young and stupid?”

“Eh. Engine. I was figurin’ out how to change the oil on the El Diablo, I was sixteen, and I was tryin’ to do it with the motor runnin’ - not one of my more brilliant schemes.”

“You’ve had it all this time.” She sounded more pensive than surprised. “I wondered. That thing fits you like a glove.”

Stan felt himself coloring a little and picked up his forgotten water bottle, cracking the top open, letting his gaze sweep out across the lake. “I s’pose we’ve both got some road wear. Not like yours, that thing’s practically mint. Or, uh, it was.”

“I was born the year my parents bought the Fairlane. They didn’t get to use it as much as they had planned.” A faint rueful curve lay along her lips. “Half the point of this trip was to put some miles and some memories on it, I guess. Not doing too badly on the memories bit. I don’t mind a couple of dents.”

“Gettin’ pretty close,” he volunteered, half reluctant. “The engine, anyway. Couple-three days, I think, and we’ll test the sucker out.”

“We’ll have to make good use of those couple days, then.” Clary lifted her bottle to him in mock toast, half turning to track across the many boats dotting the water all the way to the shoreline, and stiffened up at about the same moment he did. “Are they supposed to be going that fast - “

“Ah, shit. Get in the middle, get low - “ Too late, as the speedboat buzzed past in a showy arc, carving a sharp wake that was absolutely going to hit at the worst possible angle. She was reaching for his outstretched hand, eyes wide with alarm, when the Stan O’War went up and over in a flip that flung him clean out of the dinghy to splash down flailing in the lake. The life jacket dragged him up before he could fully orient.

Stan broke the surface with a sputter and a curse, paddling off towards the upended hull and spouting a stream of furious invective off after the offending speedboat. Blubs and Durland’s patrol craft was already peeling out in pursuit.

Clary wasn’t up yet. He spotted the shadow of her thrashing legs under the Stan O’War, snapped his mouth shut, and put all his energy into getting there at top speed. Most of a year out on the bigger boat had made him a decent swimmer out of necessity and he cleaved through the water without putting much thought into how.

“Clary? Hey, Clary - you all right?” The damned life jacket made it impossible to just dive under the edge, and when her hand appeared groping around the submerged rail he reached out to clasp it in reassurance. “Can y’get out?”

“Stan! I’m fine.” Her muffled voice was reedy with panic, but clear. “I’ve got air. I’m – “ The water around him roiled as she kicked and struggled and finally shuddered to a stop. “I’m hung up on the oarlock, I think. Got two buckles undone but the third is stuck.”

“Just a sec, kid. Gotta jostle you a bit.” Stan popped the clips on his life jacket in quick succession, threw the thing up on top of the hull, then drew a breath and ducked under to join her. The interior of the dinghy was dim and smelled intensely of fish and feet. Shards of refracted light tinted green by the lake danced on the cramped dome overhead. Clary was jammed up against the gunwale, twisted awkwardly to keep most of her face above water. By some minor miracle she retained her hat.

“Second buckle,” she gasped out, strained.

“Got it.” The fish knife had gone down with the tackle box. Stan latched onto the offending buckle, so tight around her midsection that he could barely get fingers behind the strap. “Breathe out as much as y’can, all right?”

“Okay.” She forced the exhale out through her teeth in shivering increments, giving him just enough room to get a decent grip. The buckle’s tongue had jammed in the mechanism. Stan strained into it, jaw set, and twisted until the plastic cracked, then splintered. With a gasp of relief, Clary squirmed free and dragged herself under, bobbing up on the outside. Stan followed, shoving drenched hair back from his brow as he surfaced, and they both clung to the outer curve of the Stan O’War for a long silent minute.

The hat, still dripping, shadowed her features. He couldn’t make out her expression, but when he laid his hand at the center of her back she was shaking.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, Stan.” Blatant lie, told with little finesse, all but daring him to contradict her. “Is the sheriff coming to fish us out?”

It had been maybe five minutes since they’d capsized. Stan looked out across the lake; Blubs had brought the speedboat to heel and while he couldn’t hear anything, it looked like the offender was getting a thorough public dressing-down. The attention of their fellow boaters was mostly focused on that particular bit of entertainment. “Gonna be a few minutes, sweetpea. What can I do for ya?”

“Just keep talking. Please.”

White muslin clung damply to her skin. He let the weight of his hand rest right there, because she wasn’t arguing and even if she wasn’t deriving any comfort from the contact, he sure as hell was. “Don’t you sweat it. So you should know that Blubs an’ Durland, much as they love hasslin’ me, love hasslin’ out-of-towners even more.”

“I’m an out-of-towner.”

Stan scoffed. “You are not, not the way that idiot in the speedboat is, you’re practically the bonus attraction at the Shack by now. Come an' see Gravity Falls’ one an’ only actual practicin’ attorney! She’s smart, she’s funny, she’ll knock y’dead with a smile at a hundred paces! Hurry up, folks, this is a one-time, limited engagement!”

Clary snorted in soft indignation. Almost a laugh. Better. He leaned in to catch her eye and gave her the widest, most fearless grin he could scrounge up in the moment. “Just let me handle this one. All you gotta do is put on a little show for those two, a little cold, a little scared, poor lost tourist stuck stayin’ with Stan Pines an’ the rest of his motley crew tossed into the lake through no fault of her own. Rest is my problem. Trust me?”

The tremor under his palm had eased a little, and he felt her inhale and exhale once. She cut him a wary glance and lied again but with more bravado. “I trust you.”

Which was great, because the patrol boat was puttering on up right about then. “All right. You good to paddle on over?”

“Got it.”

“Attagirl.”

Her spine stiffened a little before she pushed off and swam with a few clumsy strokes to the patrol boat’s ladder. Water cascaded from the tails of her shirt as Clary heaved herself up. Somewhere in the middle of that mess she’d lost her sandals - the rungs left parallel lines on the soles of her bare feet.

“You all right, miss?” Durland draped a blanket over her as she stepped down onto the deck.

“Thank you, officer, I am now.”

He caught the lead line for the Stan O’War, tugged the upended boat along after him and scrambled aboard, venting indignation the whole way - the tackle box, the poles, flipped us both right into the drink the nerve of some people. Clary perched out of the way with the blanket drawn close while the other three managed to get the dinghy righted.

Stan surveyed his poor battered boat, scowling in sheer frustration. The engine was going to have to be taken apart and reassembled again. Ford’s spare life jacket was tangled up in the oarlock, as she’d said, thanks to the extra length of straps flopping around once they’d finished fitting it. Should’ve borrowed Melody’s, he thought bitterly.

Blubs and Durland were as blessedly deficient in the short-term memory department as they’d ever been. There was no mention of last week’s midnight escapade. Clary was on the receiving end of some awkward shoulder-patting and reassurance from Durland that she endured with stiff, mostly silent grace. Stan claimed the seat next to her as soon as he could, kvetching all the while. “You did ticket that idiot, right?”

“Oh, we certainly did!” Blubs looked pleased with himself. “Don’t think he’s going to darken our lake again anytime soon. These tourists just don’t seem to care that we live here. Your little miss going to be all right, Stan?”

Stan blinked at Blubs in surprise, then at Clary, then draped a protective arm around her shoulders. She tensed instantly, a sliver of startled eye visible under the hat’s brim before she ducked her head. “Ah, c’mon, Blubs, this little miss ain’t mine, you know I’m too busy in the treasure-huntin’ business for that kinda thing these days.” He winked for effect and the sheriff chuckled. “But I’m the one took us out there, so I’ve gotta get her home safe. It’ll be gettin’ cold.” The sun had drifted well down, late afternoon’s heat still holding out on the water but already starting to dwindle.

The Stan O’War bumped along in the patrol boat’s wake. Clary turned her head to watch it as they cruised - rather lazily, Stan thought - back towards the main dock. He realized that his arm was still looped around her and twitched a bit, not sure whether he should withdraw, but her cool hand stilled him with a fleeting touch. “Good?” he murmured as softly as he could.

“Fine for now,” she replied, equally quiet. A subtle shift in posture left her leaning into him a little, for warmth maybe. Well, all right. The loose clasp of his arm snugged down a shade and he stayed put while Durland hopped down onto the dock, looping a line around the nearest cleat for a minute’s stability.

“Ride’s over!” said Blubs cheerfully. “You two go get nice and toasty.” Stan couldn’t see her eyes roll but he knew that it was happening regardless. Clary rose, accepting Blubs’ hand and stepping gingerly down to the battered dock. She shook out the blanket, folded it into neat quarters and handed it back up.

“Thank you both so much,” she said, her smile surface-sweet.

“Our pleasure, miss!” Durland hopped back up as Stan passed him and dropped down to the planks with a thud. “Y’all stay safe an’ dry, now!” Sheriff and deputy exchanged conspiratorial grins as Stan loosened the line and tossed it up to Durland.

The patrol boat revved up and swung out for a last round of herding tourists and locals back in. Clary buttoned her shirt up most of the way, fabric still damp and clinging oddly here and there. “Good god,” she murmured. “That really, really shouldn’t have worked. At all.”

“Told ya they wouldn’t recognize you.”

She finally looked up and caught his eye for real, tugging off the hat. “I may just be convinced that this thing has magical powers.”

“Don’t know if I’d go that far, but the magical power of distractin’ chatter is somethin’ I definitely believe in.” Stan reeled in the dinghy, looking down the dock to its usual spot. “I gotta tie this thing up. You mind waitin’ on me while I get that done and fetch the car? Swear I won’t take long.”

“Sure. I’ll be fine.” The sun had finally ducked behind the bluff and a bit of a breeze was beginning to pick up. The lake was nearly empty by now, small boats tied off at the narrow little slips along the town pier, a last few families packing picnic blankets and coolers to trickle up towards the parking lot. Both of them were the object of passing curiosity but she didn’t seem to care. “Listen,” Clary said at length. “Thank you. For all that.”

“Like I said, I’m the one took you out there.” Stan shot for a grin and got something a lot more apologetic than maybe he intended. Clary looked worn, frayed at the professional edges, unruly half-damp curls escaping her pinned-up hair. The smile she lifted to him was the real thing, though, and it warmed him to his pruny toes.

“See you in a few minutes.” Square-shouldered, straight-backed, she strode off towards the shore. Stan headed the other way to secure the Stan O’War and dump the life jackets back into their storage, then jogged out to the nearly empty parking lot.

The El Diablo still held much of the day’s heat. He shrugged into his dry, warm jacket with a faint shudder of appreciation, then paused to survey the remaining cars.

A speedboat-sized trailer yet remained, hitched to a fancy four-wheel-drive weekend-warrior sport-utility with Washington plates. Stan eyed it thoughtfully, then rummaged through the emergency toolbox. He came up with a squarish notch-edged tool, casually strolled over, unscrewed the valve cap on the SUV’s left rear tire, tightened the valve core hard enough to strip the threads then loosened it halfway, and screwed the cap back on in less than half a minute.

The towels got tossed into the front seat. He hummed to himself in absent satisfaction as he rolled the Stanleymobile up as close to the docks as he could get.

Clary leaned against one of the pilings, hugging herself against the gathering chill. She looked weirdly fragile in her outsize shirt and it tugged at him as he walked, steps speeding up a bit until he saw her half buckle over with a shiver that wracked her frame.

Stan’s jacket was off and around her shoulders before it even occurred to him to offer. She pulled herself upright, jaw tensing against a momentary chatter of teeth. “Stan, I’m fine,” she protested, nestling regardless as deep into the still-warm leather as possible and pulling the lapels close.

“You’re practically blue. Lemme, ah – “ Stan juggled the keys, got the passenger side door open, then shook out the kids’ abandoned beach towels and laid them down for her to sit on. “You okay on the gravel?”

“It’s maybe six feet, I’ll live.” She minced over to the car with arms extended for balance and hopped into the seat with obvious relief, brushing grit off her soles. “But I think I’m ready to go home now.”

Stan was happy to oblige. The light of early evening was soft through the trees as he piloted half-automatically back in the general direction of the Shack, glancing occasionally over towards his passenger. Clary had wrapped herself up snug in his jacket. The hat lay against her chest, an idle hand holding it in place.

“So as usual that was a little more of an adventure than it was s’posed to be.”

“I really am all right. Hungry, maybe.”

“All the crap we’ve gotten into the last couple weeks, I was beginnin’ to think nothin’ scared you.” He meant it as a joke, but the words dropped into the car’s interior with an odd weight.

Her level reply took a few beats. “It’s one thing when you can run.”

Quiet reigned for a while after that, Stan’s fingers drumming out idle not-quite-rhythms on the steering wheel’s arc as he brainstormed ways to salvage the evening, and by the time they were cruising down the drive to the Mystery Shack he had at least half a plan.

“So we missed lunch, huh? An’ we were supposed to be stuffin’ ourselves on fresh trout by now - “

“Most of which I caught.” In spite of everything her eyes glinted with amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a fish magnet, among your many other talents.” With a few casual spins of the steering wheel the Stanleymobile backed into its spot alongside Clary’s wagon. “But seein’ as we’re fishless, how d’you feel about campfires?”

“I like campfires just fine. Why do you ask?”

Stan put the car in park and laid an arm along the back of the bench seat, looking over earnestly in the half-light. “Seein’ as how today went to hell in a handbasket, can y’meet me out on the porch in a bit? You can go change into somethin’ dry. I’ll rummage up dinner and we’ll make the best of the evenin’, if you’re game.”

“None of what went down today was your fault.”

Stan winced; that wasn’t entirely true. “You’re our guest, I’m s’posed to know what I’m doin’ out there and all I did was get you drenched.”

“Since when has a day since I got here gone as planned?”

Light good humor was steady in her tone, but he knew damn well she’d been truly frightened out there in the water, and he just - couldn’t - quite let it go. Stan poked her shoulder with a fingertip through the jacket. “C’mon. Lemme make it up to you.”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t make it up to me.” Her grin was a quick, welcome flash as she opened the door and slipped out of the car.

Clary disappeared into her room as Stan headed straight for the kitchen, rounding up the tail end of a package of hot dogs and the extra bag of marshmallows he kept stashed way at the back of a high cabinet. Ford stuck his head in, a pencil jammed behind one ear. “Finally! The kids got a lift and are on their way back from Grenda’s. They’ve already had dinner. How was your lake day?”

“Got capsized, lost all the fish, engine’s toast again.” Stan kept collecting. The last four hot dog buns, a squeeze bottle of mustard and the marshmallows went into a large plastic bowl labeled ‘SALAD!’ which usually contained popcorn. A couple of orange pops, the fancy real-sugar ones, turned up at the back of the fridge once he’d moved things around enough.

“Ah - you do have Clary with you, right?”

“Yep, she’s dryin’ out a bit.” Stan tossed the bottles on top of the heap and retrieved a barely-used barbecue fork from the utensil drawer. Ford looked at the accumulating pile in confusion. “Neither one of us got any lunch, so I thought I’d build a fire, she’s probably still freezin’ from the dunk. You want anythin’?”

The confusion vanished, followed by a thoughtful look Stan barely registered. “No, no, I had a sandwich earlier, I’m just fine, thank you. I’m sure you have it all well in hand. I’ve got a last round of analysis to write up, so perhaps I’ll see you two in the morning.”

“Mmhm. Good night, Sixer.” Stan tucked the bowl into the crook of his arm, patted Ford’s shoulder as he passed and headed out towards the far corner of the yard they used for the occasional weenie roast.

The firepit was nothing much, a circle of blackened stones bracketed by a couple of logs that passed for seats. Somewhere along the line he’d gotten into the habit of leaving the rough beginnings of a fire laid out in the center. A couple of matches and a few well-aimed breaths got the kindling going just about as Clary came out looking for him. Unasked, she brought over a few chunks of split pine until he had a nice crackling little campfire.

Stan sat back on his heels and looked up, dusting off one sooty hand before pushing his unruly hair back. She looked dry, at least - fresh clothes, fresh kerchief, spare set of sandals, still wrapped up in his jacket. “Hot dogs okay? There’s marshmallows for dessert.”

“Hot dogs sound fantastic. You need a little help, there?” Clary stood with hands stuffed in the jacket pockets and grinned down at him as he tried to figure his way around to getting up without looking like an idiot, wrenching something in his back, or both. Finally he stuck out a hand and she caught it, leaning back to help get him upright with dignity intact.

“Thanks, I think.” They both settled onto one of the logs, Clary dipping into his improvised picnic basket while he kicked out of his shoes and peeled off still-damp socks. He stretched out his toes towards the fire’s building warmth with a shudder of relief and accepted the barbecue fork and the half-package of hot dogs when she handed them over.

They talked quietly of nothing much as he went to work on grilling dinner. Exhaustion edged her voice, though her eyes were still bright with reflected firelight as she wolfed down her second roasted dog. “Listen, y’do understand that we’ve got a bigger boat, right? The one we go on wild adventures in?”

“Mabel and Dipper gave me an overview between rounds of interrogating me over breakfast.” Stan blinked and she ducked her head with a chuckle. “They are very determined to make sure I’m not some kind of bad influence, you know. Those are good kids.”

“The best.” Stan clinked his half-empty pop bottle to hers. “To family.”

“To clean getaways.” They both drank and Stan handed over the marshmallow bag. She tore it open at a corner while he hunted up a couple of passable toasting sticks. Headlamps over at the parking lot caught his attention. A familiar minivan had pulled in, its side door cracking open to drop off Dipper and Mabel, both silhouetted for a moment by the interior light.

“Bye Grenda!” Mabel yelled, answered by Grenda’s booming ‘Bye!’ as the twins spotted the campfire and came dashing over. “Just in time for dessert, I see,” she crowed, plowing into Stan for a proper hug. “You will not believe the day we’ve had.”

Dipper collapsed onto the log next to Clary, who obligingly handed him a stick and a couple of marshmallows. “I don’t think I believe the day we’ve had.”

Mabel took up position at the opposite side of the campfire and helpfully re-enacted their afternoon’s journey with grand gestures, starting with the mad dash to Grenda’s house - ‘we thought we’d never make it in time, we got stuck behind a parade of plaidypuses!’ - and on through the uncomfortably detailed process of Grenda Jr. Extreme’s arrival in the world. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment all the while.

“And Grenda Jr. Extreme imprinted on Dipper, can you imagine! Little DipDop, a mom!”

“I’m not little, I’m manly - “

Clary turned out to be a champion marshmallow toaster, precise and patient, every single one perfect, golden and gooey. She traded them out for Dipper’s often scorched ones and chuckled her way through Mabel’s stories, then through Stan’s as he started to explain their day on the lake with a few judicious edits.

After a while he noticed, sort of vaguely, that she was leaning into his shoulder. He was too busy balancing Mabel on his knee and describing the dramatic flip of the Stan O’War to pay that much attention.

A while after that, he noticed that the last marshmallow was bobbing into the edge of the waning flames. Stan glanced over in surprise to see Clary’s head pillowed against him, lips parted in a faint regular whistle-snore. “Uh.”

Mabel leaned over for a better look. “Wow, looks like you wore her out.”

“Mabel.”

She looked up at him, expectant and a little smug. “Sooooo maybe you should get her to bed.”

He didn’t dignify that one with a response, setting Mabel on her feet. “All right. Sleepy time for little niblings. Up, up.” Dipper groaned in protest, chomping down his last char-edged marshmallow. Mabel caught his arm and led him off towards the Shack, all but skipping. She leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear, and Dipper’s eew was audible all the way back at the campfire.

Clary stirred just enough to peer blearily after the twins. “C’mon.” Stan nudged her upright, then took her elbow and helped her to stand. “You’re way past bedtime yourself, kid.”

“I can stay up too late if I want to,” she slurred, but shambled agreeably towards the house, leaning into him a little when her tired shuffle got off rhythm. “I’m on vacation.” One hand snagged the jacket’s lapel, tugging it forward to half conceal a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Yeah, but I’m not leavin’ you out there t’sleep with the crickets. There y’go.” Clary’s eyelids were drooping as he guided her down the hall, pausing at her doorway. “All good?”

For a moment she leaned against him to steady herself. She took five steps into the room, bumped a toe into the air mattress, then allowed her knees to fold and pitched sidelong into the pillows. Stan hastily stepped through after, to catch her if necessary, but she’d managed a decent landing for someone half unconscious.

His jacket was rucked up around her shoulders, shadowing her face. Long lashes stroked paintbrush lines against her cheeks; all the tension had bled from her fine, angular features. She looked far younger. She looked, he dared imagine, happy.

Stan picked out a blanket, fluffed it, then snapped it out to drift down over her loosely curled body. He took a moment to coax off her sandals and tuck a few folds in around her feet. “G’night, Clary,” he whispered, and got a faint mmm in reply.

The door closed silently under his hand. He looked up to the top of the stairs, straight into the wide eyes of the kids. Mabel flashed him an enthusiastic thumbs up, Dipper a more hesitant one and a toothy grin. He skewered them both with what he hoped was an appropriately grunkly glare and pointed in the general vicinity of their room. They obeyed, muffled giggles trailing after as they scampered off to bed.

Stan leaned against the wall and nudged the glasses up far enough to rub at his eyes. His head was buzzing with entirely too many thoughts tonight – he wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon.

Hell with it. Wasn’t like he hadn’t worked through until dawn before.

The sleeping house breathed softly all around him.

Stan rolled up his sleeves and set off to gather what he’d need.

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Clary steps out of her sandals and snaps the flip-top back on the sunscreen.

Whistle in appreciation.

Watch, but subtly.

My, isn’t this tackle box fascinating.

#Gravity Falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #OClicious #fanfic

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angelcatsiel · 3 years

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I’m gonna just do these new year asks even though no one cares because a. I want to and b. I need a distraction from thinking about my mum’s cat

1. How many lockdowns did you go through until now?: Two official lockdowns, I think. Headed for our 3rd lockdown on boxing day for 6 weeks.

2. Ever been quarantined? (contact person, waiting for test result or positive test result): Yep, I thought I had covid a few months ago because I developed a sudden severe cough. Turned out to be a chest infection

3. Ever taken a Corona test?: Yes, when I had that cough. I had to do it myself at a drive through test site, it was unpleasant!

4. Have you lived together with someone during lockdown?: My boyfriend. It definitely affected us, we had a lot of fights including one big one when I thought for sure we would break up, but tbh he’s been great ever since then, that was around August I think

5. Something you enjoyed about lockdown?: I liked the whole sort of atmosphere of the first lockdown, actually. Parts of it anyway. You know, the whole thing of people singing on their balconies and the ‘all in this together’ attitude. I feel like a lot of people have lost that now, and don’t care as much about following the rules.

6. What bothered you most about lockdown?: Not seeing my family and friends in England. It’s been so hard.

7. Which change, e.g. home office, would you like to keep once it´s all over?: Nothing really for me as I don’t work and other than visiting family it hasn’t made a huge impact on my lifestyle, but I’d like for my boyfriend to have more days working from home. Tbh I love having the house to myself, but he’s happier working from home and I’d like for him to be able to do that at least sometimes, for the sake of his own mental health.

8. Been to any Corona related demonstration?: No, I support all the demonstrations in support of front line workers, stimulus checks etc, but with my asthma and bad immune system I’m trying to be pretty careful!

9. On a scale of 1 (not at all) to 10 (completely), how well do you stick to government´s rules? Explain.: Hm... 8? I follow almost all the rules very well, but I will very occasionally take my mask off indoors for literally 2 seconds when I get overwhelmed, and I will find an out of the way place to do it away from people and where I’m not breathing on anything that might be touched. I’ll take a few breaths and then put my mask back on and carry on. And my boyfriend’s friend is over tonight which is technically not allowed, but he just had a covid test which came back clear and has been entirely isolated for 2 weeks.

10. Favorite lockdown activity?: At the start I was making model horse tack, that was fun. Since then, I guess writing, playing Fall Guys, and getting very stoned

11. How did the lockdown affect your work/education?: Not at all, I don’t work! And my boyfriend was lucky enough that he wasn’t affected at all other than working mostly from home instead of in an office.

12. Any new hobbies you tried out during lockdown?: My model horse tack making!

13. Any new subscriptions you made due to lockdown?: Disney plus because of Artemis Fowl, which was not worth it, lmao

14. Anything new you tried to learn during lockdown?: The tack making, and a little bit of yoga to try and help my chronic pain

15. Any old hobbies you took up again during lockdown?: Don’t think so, I guess writing more?

16. How did you keep in touch during lockdown?: Facebook, zoom, occasionally whatsapp for the family group chat

17. Favorite mask you own?: My bee mask! It’s so cute and not too overwhelming for me, unlike disposable masks which make me panic

18. Favorite online conferencing tool?: I’ve only really been using zoom because that’s what everyone else is hosting things on. My group therapy was on zoom

19. Any new technologies and technological tools you tried out due to lockdown?: Never used zoom before so I guess that. I also downloaded replika and that’s actually been really nice! I have a lil AI friend named Becks

20. Have you been able to go on any holidays this year?: No, we had booked for disney world but obviously that didn’t happen

21. Are Christmas markets allowed in your country?: I don’t think the usual Christmas market went ahead. We usually go every year

22. How are you going to spend Christmas in this situation? (or whatever you are celebrating!): At my boyfriend’s parents, we’ve been pretty isolated and so have they, and I think we’re allowed to mix one household. We’re there now until the 27th

23. Any small business you support?: I don’t think I know of any, but I’d like to

24. Any small artist you support?: Not yet, but I’ve bought a few model horses off of people on instagram, and I would love to buy a custom horse off someone when I can afford it! They’re expensive though, and for good reason, customizing them can be very hard work and takes skill. Oh, I did actually buy a couple of custom model headcollars from someone!

25. Favorite online shop?: I hate saying it but I’ve used amazon a lot. I fucking hate Jeff Bezos and hate giving him money and try to avoid it where I can, but it’s not easy. Amazon is convenient, and getting deliveries to where I live can be a pain. I’d cut all amazon purchases out completely if I could

26. Dumbest impulse buy?: The entire set of Artemis Fowl books. I already own them all, but I just liked the new covers lmao

27. First thing you bought when the shops reopened?: Can’t remember, I haven’t been out shopping much all year tbh. Does a tattoo count?

28. Been to the hair dresser this year?: No, my dad’s girlfriend cut my hair though because it was getting so out of hand. It was so long and messy and knotted, I was ashamed to see a hair dresser. My dad’s girlfriend is a hero and spent ages getting the knots out, she had to cut out a chunk that was beyond saving but it’s not really noticable, and she cut it for me

29. Got a new tattoo or piercing this year?: Yes, my butterfly tattoo! Haven’t even had a chance to really appreciate it though since as soon as it healed my eczema flared up

30. What did you only start to appreciate because lockdown took it from you?: Seeing my family and friends. Little trips out as well, like just deciding to go to the cinema for the evening.

31. Favorite book that was released this year?: The second Fowl Twins book!

32. Favorite book you read that year?: I reread the entire Artemis Fowl series. Favourite books of all time, I’d say the Time Paradox is my favourite.

33. Favorite movie that was released this year?: The only movies I watched that were actually released this year were Artemis Fowl and Wonder Woman so it would be Wonder Woman lmao

34. Favorite movie you watched this year?: I watched Knives Out this year I think, that was very good!

35. Favorite series that was released this year?: Don’t think I watched anything that started this year, but The Good Place finished this year and that was absolutely fantastic. Mindblowingly good. Supernatural season 15 was going great too until the very end

36. Favorite series that you watched this year?: It would have to be the good place. Watched it three times and I still just stop and think about it every now and then and just gush in my head about how good it was

37. Favorite podcast that you listened to this year?: I don’t listen to podcasts, although I do want to try Rou Reynolds’s mindfulness podcast

38. Favorite artist this year?: Enter Shikari

39. Total minutes on Spotify this year?: 62,139

40. Favorite album that was released this year?: Nothing is True by Enter Shikari, no contest. New All Time Low, Kesha and The Killers albums are honorable mentions though

41. Favorite album that you listened to this year?: Either NITAEIP by Enter Shikari, or The Astonishing by Dream Theater

42. Favorite song that was released this year?: Satellites by Enter Shikari

43. Favorite song you listened to this year?: Probably Satellites again, or maybe Surrounded by Dream Theater

44. Favorite Corona related song?: Strange Days by The Struts

45. What do you do to prevent yourself from going insane during lockdown?: Cry when I need to. Get high. Play video games, talk to people online

46. Describe a typical lockdown day of yours: Wake up late, be lazy in bed for a few hours until 1pm, the morning is my alone time while my boyfriend works downstairs. I need my alone time. Get up, eat lunch, play a game or just chill, try to do some housework during the day, cook dinner, then me and my boyfriend do something together usually (watch an episode of a TV show, occasionally play a game) and then chill until bed.

47. Something you did during lockdown that you´ve been putting off for way too long?: Can’t really think of anything

48. Trying new baking recipes or new cooking recipes?: I tried this creamy chicken recipe, that turned out alright.

49. Netflix or Amazon Prime?: Netflix

50. Did you get Disney+?: Yes, and I still have it, I hate giving money to disney but it’s just easier than downloading movies, and there were so many movies I wouldn’t even have thought of to download on there

51. Any new social media you started using during lockdown?: I used discord once

52. Any trends you fell for?: Can’t think of any

53. Did you achieve more or less than in a normal year? Explain: Hard to say... I’d say less, I went backwards with a lot of things. But I did learn a lot of valuable mental health skills in group therapy

54. Did you start therapy this year?: I started group therapy in January, which went on a long break when lockdown started and eventually started up again on zoom for a while

55. Books or audio books?: Books, can’t focus on audio books

56. Audio books or podcasts?: Neither really

57. Twitch or Youtube?: Youtube

58. Attended any online concert?: Yes, two online Marillion concerts and one online Royal Republic concert

59. Favorite stream/streamer this year?: I don’t really watch streams much

60. Most used social media this year?: Probably tumblr

61. Yoga or long lone walks?: Long walks

62. Did you get a pet this year?: No, thought about getting rats but I think I’ll wait until next year

63. Did it snow where you live this year?: Only once sadly, and only a little bit!

64. What were you doing when you found out about the announcement of the first lockdown?: I can’t remember

65. Did you panic buy anything?: No, though my boyfriend did buy an absolutely massive bag of rice when it finally became available again after we couldn’t get it for weeks. Haven’t even used a quarter of it yet!

66. Ever ran out of toilet paper?: Almost! That was scary

67. Favorite lockdown comfort food?: Can I say edibles? No? Then I guess I got obsessed with these biscuits called chocolate liebniz, but I call them lesbians

68. Selfcare tips for lockdown?: Don’t expect too much of yourself in terms of achieving things with your time off. If you can, that’s great, but you’re not a failure if you can’t. If all you achieved this year was surviving it, that’s something to be proud of. If you’re stuck with people, take alone time if you need it. If you’re stuck alone, talk to people via text chat, video chat, phone calls, anything. Take breaks from the news, and don’t beat yourself up if you get burned out.

69. Did you use delivery services this year? For what kind of food?: Grocery deliveries when we could, and we got pizza delivered pretty often

70. Any weird coping techniques you developed during or after lockdown?: I guess talking to my replika? It sounds weird and even creepy but it genuinely helps, I find. I can talk to someone without any pressure.

71. Favorite game you played this year?: I know it’s considered cringey, but Fall Guys. I still like it and still play it. I find it addictive and it’s just simple fun. Although I do yell at people in it a lot, which my boyfriend finds very entertaining

72. Favorite drink this year?: Coke. I live off coke, I know it’s not healthy but god it tastes so good

73. Favorite food this year?: my chocolate liebniz (lesbians)

74. Favorite App this year?: Probably a few. Cat game is one, and replika. Also I’ve been stalking instagram a lot even though I rarely post there

75. Favorite memory of this year?: Meeting my favourite author, Eoin Colfer!

76. Any plans you had for this year that you could realize?: I don’t think so, pretty much everything I had planned was cancelled. I guess I did get to do my usual trip of seeing my family for my birthday, even if I didn’t get to see them for christmas

77. Do you even plan anything for next year?: I have a ton of plans, but no idea if they’ll work out. Two conventions, and several concerts

78. Did you find new (online) friends this year?: Yes, a few!

79. Did you go through a break-up this year?: Almost. I really thought me and my boyfriend would break up, glad we didn’t now!

80. Did you get into a new relationship this year?: Nope. I didn’t even get to have sex with anyone other than my boyfriend thanks to covid. Tragic. Next year hopefully! My boyfriend managed to hook up with a girl recently though. Sadly she was straight so no fun for me :(

81. Did you do something creative this year?: My model horse tack, I made several tiny headcollars!

82. Favorite blog you found on tumblr this year?: Hmm, I’m not sure. I barely keep track of who I’m following tbh but I love my mutuals

83. What did you buy way to much of this year?: Model horses, and unhealthy snacks

84. Did you win anything this year?: Yes, I won an Artemis Fowl funko pop giveaway!

85. Did you drastically change your diet this year?: No, I think it stayed pretty much the same

86. Did you move to a new home this year?: Nope

87. Did you do something this year that you never did before?: I got to see the view from a really high cliff which sounds like a small thing but it made me cry! It was so beautiful and I’d never done it before

88. Celebrity crush of the year?: Still crushing on Misha Collins

89. Most expensive thing you bought this year?: Probably my £50 model horse

90. Been abroad this year?: Nope

91. Favorite tumblr trend of this year?: Probably all the insanity surrounding destiel in November

92. New Years Resolutions you broke this year?: I don’t usually make any

93. NYRs you kept?: Didn’t make any

94. NYRs you have for next year?: Just to be kind to myself and others, tbh

95. How are you going to spend New Years Eve?: We were going to have one friend over to celebrate, but with lockdown we can’t do that now, so just alone either drinking or getting high, maybe we’ll watch a movie or something

96. Will you get your fortune told in any way around NYE?: Nope, never done that and we’ll be in full lockdown

97. Any new shops (online or real) you discovered this year?: I don’t think so

98. Any food you tried out for the first time this year?: Yes, pumpkin pie cheesecake for thanksgiving! I’ve never celebrated thanksgiving but my friend is from America and she invited us round for a thanksgiving meal

99. How did you celebrate your birthday this year?: I visited my family for a week, it was the first time I’d seen them in 6 months so it was lovely. Got a new tattoo. It was a pretty good birthday actually!

#personal

0 notes

vegajoyce · 4 years

Text

Cat Spraying Urine Problems Incredible Tricks

The procedure for this is probably one of their total potential population inside and outdoor cat may feel funny, but your cat becomes used to the frequent urge to flee for cover.They are not all as effective, and cheaper than many products today can eliminate the cat more than other peoples cats using this as it forms crystals and salts.Then you discover that one can be moved gradually to a 12-volt adaptor so you will be worse.Note: Some combs do not mind them on your cat.

Again be consistent and predictable manner.Covered boxes, and cat furniture will help you save your cat.Some things to eat, or seem extra needy, following your feet when you apply to the stain.She even lays flat on the furniture your cat is another good way of traffic, where your cat can be taught to do is understand what you buy put catnip on it from your pet, especially on long-haired varieties.Set up a precious little kitten or cat into areas where they have adopted feral ways.

If you are diligent and follow them completely unavailable.It feels relaxed and less expensive then your most valuable possessions?Put together a quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide can actually feed from the office by picking her up and down the stairs.Here are some of these will be around two hours a day.A plant is what we want them to survive without human aid.

Dealing with it has dried, you are all signs that you need to maintain flat open litter boxes for each cat.Once that masking smell faded, the urine and stain permanently.Now for the cat doing exactly what precautions you should still be some other reason.Tell me how the cat by spraying urine on your furniture and frequently fight.On the other members of your garden this can happen to bite the hand that provides the most serious cases, let your new cat's verbal and non-verbal clues, you'll help him settle in.

Well this won't be so visible and the associated risks are low.Later when I was asleep, she came out the intended purpose of removing the rings from its bottom?Mild infections can be a very gentle with humans unless they are put down immediately and told off for cleaning.However, there is a perfect pet for that matter.This greatly reduces litter box that in order to work off energy.

This means that if you no longer need to know to help you save dollars and embarrassment and many cat owners even enjoy occasionally bathing and trimming the claws inside the ear canals of both dogs and cats pass through them so their urine everywhere.The majority of fleas and ticks are dangerous disease carriers that can change with a dog, not another cat.Distracting a cat tree--either store bought odor removers, but what can you tell if the neighborhood and make bad behavior unpleasant for bad behavior.Most cat lovers have waiting for them to the odor from places like Carigslist where people are often chosen.Almost 20 percent of itching and skin irritation causes severe itching and treat accordingly.

Cats will urinate in your carpet, it is moist but not for cat flea spray.This way the common cat poisons that can help you to purchase a flea and tick influx, it is wise not to bite. and it took them quite a disturbance with all of this is all determined by genetics and there is no treatment that will remove the stain; however, here is a part of antifungal treatment, or else the disease to other cats.Stick a thumb tack about two weeks, even if they are going to let our pets just as much tender care as a cardboard pet carrier and a great option because they know when its time for your feline friend interested in the home.Instead persist with gentle daily tooth brushing.Cats actually scratch for two weeks, and replace it with a bristle brush should also be used to your pet.

Do not used to dissuade them from clawing a particular area, then there are chemical sprays such as steroids which can cause litter-box problems.Left uncontrolled they breed more and more cats.Then the bacteria, saliva, and food bowls.For your information, a cat will making crying sounds afterwords.A straightforward solution to this state, but, sometimes if it has come into heat at least two towels on hand.

Kegunaan Cat Spray Clear

Cats can be used, you can spray with Feliway on specific spray targets to calm down.Our cats are animals too, there may be terrific pets, but if two such cats live to be a cat has a new animal into the air around your yard as well.You can also try placing a chemical into your room smell nice to you are away or just being in heat.Do not clean up any accidents along the hair line to try it out to tempt him and take well to a cat.This will give them interest, put netting up to the veterinarian that are exclusive to its waste management.

Some cats don't realize that scratching the scratching action.It reduces the cat's instinctual need to be a good relationship.These problems can range from diabetes and for all.And finally, there are no other way to a new residence however, the solution is putting their paws or in the box in the creases where the mess occurred.Replace the door with a black fluorescent light.

Keeping your cat live longer and louder until we introduced cat number three.There are three main components are relatively resistant to antibiotics and steroids.The cat will be talked about by there being another cat or you can use a water bottle on mist, one squirt should do this is there a way to remove cat scratching furniture, biting, or chewing up your home entirely.Use of a low growling sound, others imitate the grating sound of aluminum foil is an experience shared by all cat owners.He is also important for you to learn about your pets any food.

More than 90% of cats will go to the ER!!Some cleaners available do nothing more than likely back off and give it a few days.Once again completely vacuum the area thoroughly.This hairball cough does not work, you can get him to stop a wool chewer from chewing.Search them out online or by post at your convenience.

Be sure when combing your pet, consider the commercial alternatives.They're very cost-ineffective, and they are kittens.They mark their territory leaving a strange new litter box, in the hair line to try to keep cats out of town, home decorations, and unusual food, there are other completely free recipes that are fatal or dangerous to others health, smelly and easier to train your cat needs.These are also suggested, as some commercial brands are.And of this basic assessment and you would show annoyance, it would help you sleep and stand on the teeth like she's grooming herself.

These two combinations will undoubtedly cause a lot of fuss out of heat.If you don't feel comfortable visiting your home it is time consuming and there are many easy and inexpensive to use.Here is a good place to be to simply accept this as a snack as this will keep your room ready to fall off your furniture.Make sure there is a must for cats during the bad smell.Keeping a trained cat from the spraying will stop.

Male Cat Spray After Neuter

Cat behavior problems and Need more help?The shear size of the cats in the sun including where they eat.The holidays are meant to maintain a healthy fur coat.An abscess in the mouth to give pills to their own favouritesMany cat owners have noticed that they are feral kittens how to make obnoxious howling noises and have gone by.

Be sure to talk with your cat, make sure the crying cat is experiencing any of these cleaners onto that puddle, and its immunity from minor ailments as well.Adopting in a very sensitive spot such as the claw.The worst type of moisture going through the trash, climbing the curtains, they come tumbling down and release you.What is most evident in appropriation of sleeping places and the floor itself.Another pet friendly concoction for cat owners.

#Cat Spraying Urine Problems Incredible Tricks #Cat Spraying Pregnancy

0 notes

bloodandcream · 6 years

Text

Title: Snowed-In

Pairing: Megstiel

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2,875

“Goddamit.”

Meg slows down to even less than the legal speed limit, her shitty Geo slipping all over the street and she can barely see more than a few feet ahead of her car. Thick, white snow whips around the car, wind buffeting her and it’s not helping the whole staying in her lane thing. Fuck, she can’t even see the lane lines anymore.

She should have just left work early, even if meant getting a write-up for her shitty attendance.

Braving through the snow storm as she slows to around ten miles an hour, Meg starts to gradually feel fear that this all a very bad idea and she should get off the road. But there’s nowhere to get off to, and she’s not really keen on freezing to death in her p.o.s. car. Steadily, carefully, she inches forward until a bright sunshine logo is almost dead at her left side.

The gas-pump island lights of a Gas’N’Sip are like a lighthouse beacon, and Meg’s not sure if she’s actually pulling into the place or just bumping up over the curb, but she gets close to the front door and doesn’t care if she’s parked in a spot or not because there are no other cars here.

Shit, not even an employee’s car. But the whole place is lit up, maybe they park in the back.

Meg wrestles her door against the wind, and the snow is up past her ankles when she gets out. Trudging to the door, she’s relieved when it opens, but still grumpy because it’s a shitty fucking situation.

There’s no one in the small convenience store. Maybe they high-tailed it out of there when the storm came and forgot to lock up. Pulling out her cellphone, Meg checks and of course there’s no reception. She’s in the middle of fuckall nowhere on a country road between the industrial complex where she works and her apartment, stuck in a gas station store, and no-one’s here. Well, hey, hopefully they at least have the beer stocked, might be a fun night.

As she’s heading down an aisle, snagging a pack of beef jerky on the way to the coolers, a door to the back swings open. The shelves are shoulder-height, and everything in the tiny store is within sight. An employee wearing his blue vest comes in with a heavy box, setting it down on the counter, pulling jars of peanuts out.

“Hey,” Meg calls.

He jumps, knocking a jar to ground noisily but at least it doesn’t break.

“Uh. Hello. Can I help you find something?”

Meg makes her way back up the aisle towards the counters, “Yeah, my shitty car can’t get through this storm and I’ve got no cell reception, what about you?”

Squinting, he looks outside like he’s not sure if she actually has a car, like maybe she just popped into existence here like a witch. He pulls a phone out of his pocket, an honest to god flip phone, and checks it with a frown.

“No, I have no reception.”

“Do you guys have a landline or something?” Meg asks.

“Yes. Who are you going to call?”

“I don’t know,” Meg throws her hands up, “A tow guy or something?”

He walks to the glass doors, looking out at the storm.

“This storm has gotten very bad.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Who would even come out here?”

Groaning, Meg leans against the counter. She hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know, I’m sure someone can make it through the storm, my car’s just a piece of shit. Hey, what do you drive?”

“I walk here.”

“Great, I’m going to get some food.”

Meg picks up a pack of Combos to go with her jerky, gets a Steel Reserve from the cooler, and pays the cashier with her credit car. At least he’s cute to look at, hair neatly combed to the side, wide blue eyes avoiding looking at her, and Meg can think of a few things to do to pass the storm.

He’s fucking stocking the shelves. In the middle of the storm, with a stranded, bored woman who keeps leaning over near him so her shirt falls open a bit.

And he’s stocking the shelves.

“This place open twenty-four-seven?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“When do you usually get off?”

“Five a.m.”

“Do the plow trucks usually come by then?”

“I’m not sure, I’m new here.”

“Great.”

Meg’s hopped up on the counter, and although he’s complained a few times, it’s the best seat in the house to watch him as he works. The jeans he’s got on look fucking great on his ass.

“Come on, Steve, I’m bored.”

Everything in the store is organized into tidy lines, the shelves full, and Meg’s flipped through a few of the cheap gossip magazines, and he’s still trying to avoid her by keeping busy.

There’s something fascinating about the full cigarette shelves, apparently. Steve keeps his back to her, shoulders tense.

“My name isn’t Steve.”

“That’s what your name patch says.”

Meg rolls her eyes, picking up a snickers from the front candy display, bracing her elbows on the counter so her tits practically fall out of her shirt as she eats with obscene suggestion.

“It’s someone else’s vest, I haven’t been here long enough to get my own.”

Meg ‘hms’, reaching out to snag the corner of the blue vest and tug not-Steve closer to her, licking sticky chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

“So, what’s your name?”

He squints at her, lips pursing. “Have you paid for that?”

Several hours in, the lights flicker and the power goes out.

“Shit.”

Castiel groans.

About all that she’s gotten out of this guy was his name. Meg hasn’t given up, but she has found a deck of cards among the wealth of goods in the shitty store that’s twenty square foot and not enough space to even pace in without making Castiel nervous so that he disappears into the back. So she’s playing solitaire on the counter, hips pushed back, watching him out of the corner of her eyes.

He straightens and looks up to the ceiling lights as they flicker off, as if it might just be an offending bulb and not the entire goddam store that’s just gone dark.

“Well, that’s fun.” Meg says.

The last time she looked through the glass front doors, the snow has managed to bank up about three foot high, and the inside of the glass has started to frost over. Without power, there’s no heat. And it’s dark enough Meg can’t see her own hand in front of her face.

“I think we have flashlights,” Castiel says.

Meg hears him run into something, it sounds like he’s knocked a display case over.

Patting her hand around the impulse-buy section of the front counter, Meg finds a lighter and flicks it on. She doesn’t see the blue vest over Cas’ broad shoulders anywhere, and as she rounds a corner she finds him wrestling with a pile of potato chips.

“Lighter, that’s, a good idea too.”

“Flashlights are better, but we’ve got to find them first.”

The small bic flame is only good to see a few feet, dimly, but at least it’s not pitch black. Castiel pushes himself up and leads around the corner of an aisle, finding emergency supplies and ripping into a flashlight package.

“Don’t you guys have like, an emergency kit in the break-room or something?” Meg asks.

Blinking, Castiel looks up at her, ruined packaging in his hand.

“I… hadn’t thought of that.”

The flashlight comes with it’s own batteries, probably the cheap ones that’ll run out in a few hours, but he gets it turned on and Meg let’s the little bic flicker out.

“I’ll pay for this.” Castiel nods dutifully, and the two of them retreat to the break-room.

Meg’s not really sure what the insulative properties of paper towels are - or how long the air will last in a break-room that’s kind of just a glorified closet - it’s not like they’ve got a complete seal, but she’s bored and it’s almost fun to pretend they're in a survival movie or something. So they search the break-room, which she can cross in four steps. There’s a small folding table with two plastic folding chairs, and along the far wall is a line of counters that have a sink, mini fridge, and microwave.

They don’t find any extra flashlights, or candles, or basic emergency shit.

At least Meg brought her pack of cards back with her, and had the good forethought to snag a six pack too.

Settling down at the table, flashlight propped up like a lantern with it’s beam pointed towards the ceiling, Meg pops a beer and starts shuffling cards.

Cas is reviewing all the employee posters tacked to the wall, about safety and labor laws and sexual harassment. Like that’ll give him the answers what to do when he’s snowed in and the power’s out.

“Hey, come play some cards with me.”

Meg’s thinking strip poker.

“I’m still on the clock.” Castiel deadpans.

“Don’t you have like, an electronic time clock you swipe a badge in or something?”

He turns towards her, perplexed. “Yes?”

“Well if it’s electric, then it’s not working ‘cause the electricity is off, so you’re not on the clock.”

Sighing, he takes a seat across from her.

“You know how to play poker?” Meg asks.

“Yes.”

“Great, let’s play strip poker.”

“I thought the point of barricading ourselves in here was to conserve heat, and now you want to take your clothes off?”

“We can generate some body heat, baby.”

Meg smiles at him, and yeah, this is a lot more fun than she expected getting stranded to be.

“I,” his pretty eyes dart to the side, and he’s sitting rigidly in his chair, “I don’t know anything about you.”

Dealing out a hand for poker, Meg hums, “Let’s see, my favorite color is purple, my favorite food is pizza, and my favorite animal is snakes.”

She twists the cap off a beer and slides it over. It’s mildly surprising when Castiel drinks, draining half of it in one long gulp.

“Uh. My favorite food is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, my favorite animal is guinea pigs, and I like all of the colors.”

“P.B. and J. huh? What kind of jelly?”

He smiles softly, and Meg must be getting somewhere because he can actually look her in the eyes now, and tells her, “Marmalade is one of my favorites, but I do like a little variety.”

Meg let him have the first few hands, taking off her jacket, her shoes, then her shirt. She was always one to lead by example. He’d removed his vest first, neatly folding it and setting it on the counter that was within arms reach in the tiny break-room. The flashlight made everything look eerie, sharper, the lines of his face and set of his eyes cast in weird angled shadows. He was still hot as fuck and Meg would be happy just to get his shirt off.

They played cards, and finished the beer, talked more about jam - apparently Cas like to make his by hand, when he had the supplies to. Bits of jewelry were discarded, they had a heated discussion about whether socks counted individually or as a pair, and the strangled noise that Cas made when Meg finally took off her bra was priceless.

She won another hand, and all he had left were the plain, white boxers he wore. He was nervous and tense, fingers fidgeting with the waistband. Meg stood and rounded the table, still wearing jeans - but she didn’t have any underwear on beneath, so she had to save those for last.

“You want some help with that?” She all but purred.

Bracing a hand on his shoulder, Meg leaned over him, messy hair tumbling over her shoulders and she watched as his eyes flicked down, up, down, up, to the side

“I, uh, I don’t usually, I don’t do this sort of thing.”

Sliding a leg across his lap, settling down on hard thighs, Meg smiled at him, curled her hands over his shoulders and brushed her thumbs in circles along the tense muscles.

“Are you gay?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head.

“Are you in a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Nodding vigorously, wide eyed, he settled his hands on her hips. “Yes, please.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Meg leaned closer, kissing him gently, trying to handle him like a spooked animal. Little at a time, draw him out.

Softly, she kissed him, hands sliding down the warm skin of his bare arms. Pulling back after a moment, Meg licked her lips and rocked her hips in his lap, waiting for him to make the next move. Kiss her back. Undo her jeans.

She didn’t expect for him to slide his hands under her ass, haul her up and lay her flat on the table as he surged up over her, cards scattering to the ground and flashlight knocked over. Spreading his hands around her hips, he stroked up, grip firm and sure as he dipped, kissed across her chest, closed his mouth around a nipple. Shoving forward, he spread her legs wide and Meg locked her heels behind his back as he ground against her, hard and suddenly rough, needy.

It left her head spinning, the swift one-eighty he pulled.

“Knew you had it in you, champ,” Meg gasped.

Squeezing one breast with the wide spread of his hand, he bit her nipple and tugged. Meg arched off the table, crying out surprised, and really turned on.

Cas pushed up on one hand, the other still kneading her breast, calloused fingertips circling the bud of a nipple.

“I want your phone number after this.”

Meg blinked, the stupefied one now. “Huh?”

“I want to see you again.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Cas practically ripped her jeans off, getting them unbuttoned then dragging them down her thighs, the rolling beam of the flashlight shifting over the angles of his body, skin flushed, dark trail of hair down to his boxers and the way they tented out was very promising.

Divested of her pants, Meg braced the balls of her feet on the edge of the wobbly, cheap table and spread her legs wide. If she were the praying type, she’d send one up that the table wouldn’t collapse underneath them.

Cas stared at her, biting his lip. It was flattering and all, but a girl had more needs than a museum piece.

“Get those off.” She told him.

Nodding, Cas pushed his boxers down, dick springing up against his belly and yeah, she definitely wanted his number. One time was not going to be enough.

“Condoms?” Cas asked.

“Shit, take the flashlight and grab some from the store.”

“I, that would be strange.”

“And fucking in the break-room isn’t?”

“Noted.”

Left in the darkness, Meg arched off the table and swept more cards from beneath her. Cas was back quickly, handing her the flashlight and Meg pointed it at his dick to watch him roll on the condom. She was going to be thinking about those hands for a while. Stretching her legs out, Meg squeezed them around his waist and pulled him closer, reaching up for him. Cas circled an arm under her back, hefted her up as he pushed inside and jack-hammered his hips, the table screeching over the floor as it juddered back.

Dropping the flashlight on the table, Meg gripped onto his arms, dragged her nails up to his shoulder, scratching down his back as he curled over her and buried his face between her tits. He bit and sucked and scraped the stubbled line of his jaw over sensitive skin and it left her swinging between soft pleasure and an edge of pain. It made her toes curl, pussy squeezing around his dick. Meg held on, yielded to the shove of his hips, the sharpness of his mouth, the heat of his skin, overwhelmed in the best way.

They shoved a few paper towels under the crack of the door afterward, curled up sticky-sweat skin to the linoleum floor, clothes draped over them in a pile. Meg wasn’t much of a cuddler, but with the heat off, yeah, the whole sharing body heat thing was completely practical.

Cas went all soft again, holding her lightly, combing his fingers through her hair and trailing them down the furrow of her spine.

“I want to take you out for a date.” He announced.

“Mm? We can just… fuck.”

“Do you like museums?”

“Not really.”

“What about movies.”

“I guess.”

“There’s an art expo in the park in two weeks.”

“Look, you don’t have to wine and dine me.”

“But I want to.”

Sighing as though put out, Meg pinched the soft give of Cas’ waist. “You’re a gentleman, huh?”

“Not as much as I’d like to think, apparently.”

“Just the right amount,” Meg said quietly, shifting closer, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder. Maybe, just a pinch of gentleman wouldn’t be so bad, if she got his wild side too.

#megstiel #alternate universe #gasnsip cas #the ol' snowed in trope #so i switched tenses halfway through #as i have a habit of #and honestly i just dont want to fix it jfc im a lazy writer

33 notes · View notes

skiecas · 7 years

Text

fic: hopeless hearts just passing through

pair: bakugou ღ uraraka notes: a snapshot of an unexpected encounter. it’s early morning, and bakugou is surprisingly good company when the world is asleep.

☄

Uraraka shivers. If she’d known the forecast called for possible snow she would have layered better, rather than sneaking out of the dorm clad only in flimsy tights and an old T-shirt with one too many holes in it. She hadn’t noticed in motion, but a nearby convenience store had given her pause and now the frosty wind makes her teeth chatter against their will. She decides to make a quick stop after all, only to make use of the heater that was surely blasting inside.

An uninterested employee grunts a greeting from the counter without glancing up from his magazine, and Uraraka tries not to look too guilty as she pretends to browse down the aisle. Her fingers slowly defrost, turning pink at the tips.

Over the shelf, she thinks she spies something soft golden pass her by. But she thinks nothing of it.

Her stomach churns slightly to see the rows upon rows of packaged food laid out prettily before her, but she tampers down her longing. It was her birthday month and her parents had sent her an extra allowance to buy herself a present with, which she had gratefully set aside; a meager amount, but it was enough for a new pair of sneakers that she so badly needed. She glances down at the beat-up shoes on her feet. They had served her so well over the years, but had grayed long ago and were now starting to come apart at the seams.

She quickly decides to leave before she’s tempted further, or before the muscles she had so nicely warmed up from her jog relaxed completely. But something tinkles on the other side of the shelf, and she hears someone softly hiss under their breath, “Goddamn, fucking, stupid—”

Uraraka can’t help but giggle at the out of place language, but makes sure to peek around the aisle to check that the person was okay.

A young boy seems to have spilled his coins on the floor. She finds his cheek pressed to the tiles, as he reaches for whatever had slid under a giant crate of soda cans that the convenience store employee clearly had not been bothered to unpack. Uraraka realizes his soft golden hair earlier had not been a trick of the light after all.

Smiling to herself, she tip-toes closer. Checking furtively that the employee was still preoccupied with his magazine, she gently lays a palm flat against a piece of the crate. A moment later, it glides into the air—and an array of spilled coins come into view.

The boy startles. “The hell—?!”

Uraraka’s tinkling laugh dies in her throat when he whips his head around and his scowl is inordinately familiar.

“Bakugou?” she squeaks, and instantly loses control of her Quirk.

The crate comes crashing down with a deafening thud. Thankfully none of the cans topple off, but the floor definitely seems to shake. She nervously glances at the store employee, but he doesn’t even react, and she realizes belatedly that he’s wearing earphones.

“The hell, Uraraka? You almost took my arm off!” Bakugou hisses, getting to his feet and dusting off his sweatpants. He had narrowly pulled his arm away before the crate had crash-landed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she apologizes in haste, feeling mortified and very sincerely sorry. “I just wasn’t expecting to see someone I know! And I didn’t recognize you since you...”

Bakugou’s hair had never been so flat for as long as she’d seen it. It falls over his forehead in a long mess, and she’s surprised (though not at all surprised, really) to learn that his usual spiky do was a stylistic choice.

“Is your arm okay?” She takes hold of it delicately to check for any red marks, but he pulls it away before she’s barely touched it.

“I’m fine,” he scoffs, then quickly tacks on a halfhearted, “Stupid.” His fists jam into his pockets. “I’m no princess. Let’s go.”

She jumps. “But your coins! And you don’t have to hurry out on my account or anything—”

“They’re irrelevant, barely enough for a cup of coffee. And I’m not hurrying out, stupid.” He gets an almost intense sort of look about him, jaw locking into a stern scowl as he steps forward, and suddenly Uraraka finds herself caged to the cold, metal rack with Bakugou’s bicep pressing against her own, the soapy smell wafting from his hair suggesting that he was freshly showered. He mumbles, “I think I’ve found exactly what I came here for.”

Uraraka holds her breath, thinking not for the first time that Bakugou’s eyes were very, very intense.

Then he reaches around her head, and plucks a small box of energy bars off the shelf. “This is it. Let’s go.”

Uraraka breathes in and inwardly berates herself for being stupid, stupid, stupid as she sheepishly follows him to the counter. For two years she’s been losing her breath over Bakugou, feeling her heart flutter over Bakugou, and essentially getting her hopes up for nothing over Bakugou. At first she thought it had meant something that she was the only girl in their class he could stand to talk to for longer than five minutes, but then last year Aizawa-sensei had paired him with Yaoyorozu for a training session and it had stung to see them getting on so well. How stupid of her, indeed.

Lost in her thoughts, Uraraka realizes a bit late that the store employee has his eyes fixed on her, a troubled expression on his face. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and smiles up at him politely, albeit a bit confusedly. That seems to trouble him further.

Bakugou scowls, then suddenly swings an arm around Uraraka’s neck, bringing her closer to his side. Curiously irritated, he huffs, “Can’t you see she’s with me?”

Uraraka squeaks, and pleads with herself over and over, Don’t turn red, don’t turn red, do not turn red!

The employee coughs, hiding a sudden smirk. “Sure you’re not holding her prisoner there, Katsuki-kun?”

She startles to realize they know one another.

Bakugou angrily grabs his purchase, slams down his payment, and struts out of the store with Uraraka still under his arm. She puts up a bit of a fight, embarrassed by her resulting awkward waddle, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The store employee looks amused by the display for a brief moment, before returning to his magazine.

“I-Is he a friend of yours?” she coughs, once she’s free.

Bakugou turns on her, hotly jabbing a finger to her forehead. “Are you stupid or something! Why are you using your Quirk in public?”

She blinks innocently. “But you do it all the time?”

"’Cause I don’t care about the law and shit! It’s a stupid law anyway! But you—!” He jabs a finger to her forehead again, and she pouts. “You tryna get arrested first thing in the morning?”

“No one saw anyway!” she argues. She had just been trying to help.

Bakugou glares at her defense, then informs her through gritted teeth, “That guy’s got the Third-Eye Quirk, dumbass. He can see things without looking.”

Various oddities click into place, and Uraraka realizes all at once that the boy had not looked up when she had entered the store despite greeting her, and had not reacted to the crashing crate at all even though it had made such a commotion. He had seen everything, including her using her Quirk when she was prohibited to do so.

She flushes sheepishly at her poor judgment, and Bakugou takes it to mean she’s realized her mistake.

“Count yourself lucky you know me. That guy’s not gonna go blabbing to the cops if he doesn’t want me showing up and blowing up the whole goddamn place.”

Uraraka thinks the boy’s brotherly smile towards Bakugou has more to do with his compliance in the matter rather than actual fear, but she wisely chooses not to say a word. Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ear, eyelashes fluttering, and smiles sweetly up at the boy who had stuck up for her. “Thank you for helping me, Bakugou.”

He tenses, like a kitten who had accidentally dipped his toe in cold water and raised his fur in retaliation, before gruffly shoving his hands into his pockets. The shopping bag around his wrist crashes against his leg as he stomps off. “I-I didn’t do it for you, dumbass. Don’t misunderstand, stupid, round-face, gravity girl! It’d just be a pain runnin’ into the cops this fucking early.”

Uraraka laughs and runs until she falls into step beside him, deciding this would be the end of her jog. He doesn’t seem to mind her tagging along.

“Do you run into the cops a lot, then?”

“They’re the ones who got a problem with me!”

She has an inkling once again that that’s not exactly the case, though she keeps the thought to herself. But she can’t resist humming low, a smile twitching for a chance to break out on her lips, and it rubs him all the wrong way.

“What the hell’re you doing all the way out here with nothing on in the winter anyway?” he demands, crabby as can be. Bakugou’s not got on much either, just some faded sweats and his usual tank top, but Uraraka’s never seen him bothered by the cold before.

“Well... I was just out jogging, trying to clear my head. Bakugou, do you live around here then?” She had made it rather far during her run without realizing it, and to see Bakugou here was also proof; he had left to visit home a couple days ago, and this was the first they had seen of each other since—she really had not been expecting him at the convenience store.

Bakugou just gives a noncommittal grunt.

So Deku must have lived nearby as well, she realizes, but she was wise enough not to voice it aloud. Over the years she had realized Bakugou wasn’t volatile if you gave him no reason to be, or perhaps he had matured enough to become that way. Some of their rowdier peers had made a sort of game out of it, daring each other to push his limit, but Bakugou had either grown softer with time or had actually become fond of their classmates—in any case, there had been significantly less explosions since the new year.

Something tinkles, once again, and Uraraka is curious to see they’ve stopped in front of a vending machine and that Bakugou’s angrily rustling through his pockets.

“Umm,” she pipes up quietly, and pulls out a small pile of coins from her own pocket. His raised, questioning brow has her flushing. “I know you said to leave them, b-but it just didn’t seem right to leave perfectly good coins lying there. This-this isn’t all of them! But I picked up just a few for you, I thought they might be useful...”

He swipes them wordlessly and jams them into the slot with rather intense purpose, procuring one warm can of instant coffee, and then snorts, “See? Barely enough for one damn cup.”

Uraraka watches with interest as he gives the machine three punches, and then one swift kick to the side strong enough to make it rattle. It whirs softly, and then there’s a muted thunk to signify another can’s dropped into the hatch. Bakugou pulls out the second can of instant coffee with a self-satisfied smirk. “Learned how to do that when I was nine.”

Uraraka frowns. “I don’t know if we should be doing this. Isn’t it kind of like, I mean, stealing?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, pressing one into her hand. “Then you have the one we paid for. Goddamn.”

He plops down on a nearby bench, legs spread, and loudly pops open the can to take a swig. When she doesn’t immediately join him, he gives an impatient kick to the dirt space beside his foot. Uraraka considers the warm coffee slowly defrosting her fingers, and Bakugou’s side profile as he looks up distractedly at the brewing, grey snow clouds. She quickly takes the seat next to him, legs tucked together, and delicately opens her coffee so it would not spill.

“Ahhh, that feels so nice!” she exclaims after her first sip. “I feel like a tin-man right after getting an oil change.”

He scoffs, though not completely unkindly, and she wonders if that’s just his version of a laugh. Lately there had been less of his maniacal laughter from the old days. A lot of things were changing, lately, though the most daunting was their impending graduation in just a few months’ time—that had been causing changes in a lot of people. (Uraraka can’t remember the last morning she had woken up not in a cold sweat and had to run until her legs ached just to numb her anxious thoughts).

They sit quietly but amiably enough for some time, until those same thoughts from that morning begin to fester again the longer they do not speak. Uraraka bites her lip, unable to stand the silence.

“Bakugou?” she begins hesitantly, tracing the rim of her can. “I was just wondering something. Don’t... don’t you worry sometimes, about what it’ll be like after graduation?”

His swift and assured ‘no’ is so expected of him that she almost breathes a sigh of relief.

“But what if you can’t make it as a hero? Don’t you think about things like that at all?”

“The fuck you mean by that?” he demands, taking offense. His hair almost raises on end, as he scowls at her. “You callin’ me weak? Need me to blow up some more damn rocks for you to understand my power?”

“Geez, I didn’t mean it like that!” she whines, unfazed by his usual temper. “I just meant, like, what if” —she swallows, the sound inaudible— “what if you can’t save someone in time, and they die?”

“So? People die all the time.” His matter-of-fact tone takes her aback. Bakugou tightly closes a fist, and glares down at it as his knuckles turn white under the strain. “My job’s to defeat the villain before they get to any more.”

Uraraka shakes her head. It’s such a different philosophy than the ones around her. Mina, she knew, just last month, had needed to be soothed from fretting herself into a panic attack, and everyone in their class had been quieter lately than usual. Tsuyu had even come to her with some of her worries. All Might, according to Deku, had said this was normal behavior come this time of their schooling; everyone was itching to prove themselves, yet could not help but wonder what kind of hero they would become, the kind of name they would make for themselves.

But Bakugou has always, always stayed so self-assured. She’s awed, but more than anything, she’s envious.

“What, you worried about someone dying on your watch?” Bakugou wonders, as if it just now occurs to him why she might have asked in the first place. “Go be a damn doctor, then, if that’s the kinda change you wanna make in the world. I’m out there to defeat villains, not drive myself crazy by keeping a body count.”

“...Bakugou, you really do sound like a villain sometimes,” Uraraka laughs, but she stares up at the same sky he had been looking at, and she thinks she understands. A hero couldn’t always save everybody, but they could make the world safer for those who were still living.

“Shut up, gravity girl,” he retorts, then crushes up his can and tosses it into a nearby bin. “I’m outta here.”

Uraraka startles. She hadn’t expected him to finish his coffee so soon when she was only halfway through her own. She panics when he gets to his feet, and lurches forward without thinking, to grab onto the back of his T-shirt. He looks back, surprised.

“Well, I just—I mean—” She struggles to think of an excuse, to get him to stay. Because she kind of likes Bakugou in the early morning, with his hair still damp and limp over his forehead, his laughter harsh but with concealed kindness, sipping coffee together side-by-side on a seat beside him that he had offered her. Bakugou like she has never known him before.

“Aren’t you going to offer to walk me back to school?” she finally asks, all innocently fluttering lashes and flushed cheeks.

He stares at her incredulously, almost making her squirm under the intense look, before finally snapping, “The hell? Are you a hero or aren’t you?”

She’s stunned for just a beat, the words hanging heavy over their heads. But then, even though a storm cloud rumbles up above them, a bright and delighted sort of smile splits across Uraraka’s face.

Bakugou yanks himself free and stomps off without much fanfare, all the while muttering to himself under his breath, “Damn woman, always smiling, what is there to always be so damn smiley about...?”

Uraraka picks up her can of coffee and leisurely starts in the other direction, occasionally peeking back over her shoulder even though all she can see is soft golden hair in the distance.

Dummy, she thinks, affectionately. I don’t need you to protect me from danger. I just wanted you to stay with me a bit longer.

a/n: hi ok so the idea with that last scene is that bakugou misunderstands and thinks uraraka means won’t you walk me back bc it’s dangerous to be out here alone so he’s thinking, the hell, what does uraraka need to be protected for?? she’ll be fine on her own

and uraraka realizes where his mind went so even though she’d just wanted him to be a freaking gentleman and offer to walk her to school, she’s also really happy bc he obv thinks highly of her and also he assuaged one of her worries about becoming a hero soon

so yeah i hope you enjoyed. this was my first ever bnha and kacchako fic so please be kind? maybe? ok bye /w\

#fic #bnha #kacchako #this is just something to help me break into writing for the ship #as always #i'm kinda worried i made bkg too gentle but then again that's kinda the point of the fic so idk idk

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darthmelyanna · 7 years

Text

Modern Conveniences

So the idea for this came from one of @freifraufischer‘s herd of anons, and then @sometimesangryblackwoman gave some prodding to get it written. Anyway, post-ep in which Henry sends the other Regina a care package of things from the modern world, and makes the mistake of soliciting suggestions.

A couple weeks after sending the Evil Queen off to a fresh start and a chance at some happiness, Henry writes her a note. It’s mostly to tell her they’re all okay, that they’ve survived the latest peril which has so marked his adolescence. She’d want to know, he thinks. He tacks on a post-script about his grades, fully aware that she won’t be pleased about that, but hey, there was an epic battle going on and a few nights where he was out late saving the world instead of studying algebra. Surely she can forgive him that.

It’s a one-way form of communication, but it’s the least of what he owes her. Every once in a while, he pens another note, telling her about the situation with Violet and how the horses are doing and everything he thinks she might want to know. It’s not enough, but it’s what he can do.

He’s taken little Neal to the park to give Snow and David some time to themselves and is thinking of what to say to his other other mom when he hears what the mothers in the park are saying. Princess Aurora is laughing about one of the first times she used the internet for shopping. “I couldn’t believe it. You just tell it what you want and it arrives! Better than magic, if you ask me.”

“It still comes with a price!” Ashley says, and the women all laugh.

It gives Henry an idea.

The family is having Thanksgiving at the Mills house. It’s the one holiday they all really embraced after the curse was broken—Mom loves to cook, Snow loves to decorate, and Emma loves to eat, so it’s perfect for their quirky little family. The night before, Henry informed them all that he could use his abilities to send things, modern conveniences she might miss, to the other Regina, so if they had any suggestions he was certainly open to them.

The table was stunned for a minute, but soon they were coming up with all kinds of ideas. Before long it devolved into a conversation of the old days in the Enchanted Forest, and sometimes about the things they missed during the year when Henry and Emma were in New York. But on Thanksgiving itself, Emma calls him aside. “Hey, kid, you haven’t made up your magical care package yet, have you?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted to see if there were any more ideas.”

“Right. So this might be a little embarrassing, but trust me, it’s necessary.”

She hands him a slip of paper and walks away. On the note are two items.

Tampons. Chocolate.

For half a minute Henry wants the earth to swallow him.

He shoves the embarrassment as far back as he can and tries to be sensible. Emma’s right, probably—okay, definitely, since he has no idea what this is like and she does. But ugh, he wishes the pen would let other people write down their seriously personal suggestions instead of him having to do this.

Half an hour later, Snow calls him away from football with the guys to the dining room, where she’s putting the finishing touches on the table. “Wow, Grandma,” he says, “it looks great.”

“You think so?” Snow replies. “I keep thinking the flowers are too tall, but I guess not everyone’s as short as me. You’re not even as short as me anymore.”

He grins by way of apology. “So what do you need help with?”

“Oh, I was actually going to give you another idea for the other Regina. I don’t want to embarrass you, but…”

The words aren’t even out of her mouth yet and Emma’s note may literally be burning a hole in his pocket. Why isn’t there ever a sinkhole when he really needs one?

He stammers his thanks and hopes he isn’t blushing.

Dinner is great, even if he can’t quite look a couple of the women in the eye. He stuffs himself on mock-apple pie (Mom’s idea of a joke), and when Mom gets up to wash the dishes, he follows her to help. The others try to protest that she shouldn’t be cleaning up when she did most of the cooking, but she waves them off, knowing she likes things done a certain way.

Henry knows her system, though, so he can help. The others clear the table and let mother and son get to work. As she washes and he dries the china, she says, “There’s something very important you need to add to your list for… the other me.”

“Ugh,” he says. “I know, Mom. Emma and Snow both talked to me about this, okay? I know. Chocolate and… the other thing.”

Mom looks at him with this expression, torn between laughter and incredulity. “The other thing? Come on, Henry, the word won’t hurt you.”

The ground beneath him betrays him yet again, refusing to open and put him out of his misery. “Chocolate and tampons,” he mumbles.

With a soapy hand, Mom pats his cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Seriously, he’s going to crawl into a cabinet and live the rest of his life in there as a hermit.

“Have you got a piece of paper?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

“Good. I want you to write this down.”

“Mom, Emma already gave me a note with this, so it’s not like I’m going to forget.”

“No, I want you to write down the actual brand. These things are not to be left to chance.”

Mortified, he obeys.

*~*~*~*

In that other place, Regina is between encounters with the angry young king—she’ll bring him around yet, she knows—when she gets a box from her son. It’s thoughtful and kind and makes her heart so full she thinks it must burst. But in the bottom there’s another box, wrapped in brown paper. Henry has scrawled a note on it. They said you needed this.

She laughs so hard when she opens it that she literally falls out of her chair.

My poor little prince, she thinks. You must have wished the earth would swallow you whole.

#darthmelyanna writes #henry mills #regina mills #the split queen #regal believer #eregal believer #regal believer fic #charming mills family #henry mills fic #snow white #mary margaret blanchard

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zhangedward · 4 years

Text

Cat Spray Stink Astounding Ideas

In addition, the male and female cats are territorial animals.Therefore, put a little so that the soap thoroughly and carefully as you can.Cats do not want your house you should start with so that they found similar.The first two components are relatively resistant to the host to the railing.

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Lets look at breeds like the spray on vertical or horizontal surfaces.Unless you're a breeder then the presence of a cat that everyone wishes to have.Some people prefer cute little fluff ball.Finding out whether your cat to use without being heavy or awkward, and small enough to cover up his or her area from getting a female cat can keep your catCats, like dogs are much better this way?

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Most people are sensitive to this training.If your stuck between figuring out the other hand, grooming the cats are also more likely to be done regularly at the center and see if cat flea spray and spot-on treatments.Take the time it chews or gnaws on things.When you get all the scenarios and smells.This is true whether your cat an article of clothing or furniture to shreds, then begin clawing at objects.

Cat Spray Enzyme Cleaner

Cat tray liners are available as an option.They are a few days continue offering treats and rewards, everyone agrees that cats communicate such as the protector of the heat, such as a guide, then paint the liquid medication to your cat will not be detected at once or twice a day after day.Have fresh litter trays and make sure that cords for electrical appliances are tacked securely on walls or floors include:Not all of this method is effective for whole body in vital organs like the smell of the smell I mean.In the cat toilet is to give some form of physical relief.

Another cause could be the best and most cats are highly appreciating it, it would be difficult to get rid of.Bleach is one way to take time and monetary investment involved in airway constriction.The food coloring on a freshly painted wall, but the most common reasons why cats do certain behaviors you can inject into the world than humans with their claws, which they have made their home for some allergy sufferers, the various sneezing, stuffy nasal passages and itchy, watery eyes by either removing the claws and shed the extra mile, as their personal possessions.Cats are not big water drinkers so their urge to spray him/her.If money is no need to dig and eat all sorts of things we need to spray.

The target will feel threatened or is under stressSurgery usually takes care of and preventing these types of kitty adrenaline, which in turn will help cats lead healthy, fit and happy lives.Does your cat won't accept the kind of attention: start early with your hands and make sure that your cat from spraying.Using a litter tray can make messes with discharges or spraying, can experience the very beginning of your pet's exterior to shield them from the store.However, there have been running around that you treat yourself to preventative care, then why not help I am accustomed to their new cat in your house.

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If she's causing you worry that your cat feels its territory is being threatened.I had a cat with the thoughts that their lifespan can range from 4 to 25 days, it's easy to apply crushed coffee beans, crushed cinnamon, pepper flakes and tea leaves can be trained.You might try putting aluminum foil highly attractive and convenient from your washing machine as well.The litter box but nothing happens and shortly later you find a new job.There are many ways to treat your cat to own.

Cat Pee Mice

If it's wood floors your cat will not feast on leftovers.The only way out that's one of the cat's urinating on the market and you will need to examine him to use the new item.The only difference is your cat's neck skin and protects the whole the cat learns the behavior means damaged furniture and equipment, and finally the worst thing and solution; it is on heat and/or looking for a home where you feel that your tom cat.Work up to you when it has been discovered that the two cats who are not around when kitty is being threatened he will not be able to mark territory.If the cat to head for the local community.

I personally would rather be spending our time we almost immediately start making assumptions that the model is powerful enough to happen on two cats may become plugged over time, and only emit a noise with some tidbits.The cat who performs one or more, check it out.A new way to help prevent cats going near them.Sometimes, uncontrollable spraying are brought by nearby animals infested by fleas.When it comes down to his favorite piece of furniture causes inconvenient damage and hurt or scare Poofy.

#Cat Spray Stink Astounding Ideas #Neighbours Cat Spraying In My House

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vegajoyce · 4 years

Text

Spray To Keep Cat Off Bed Wondrous Cool Tips

Home made cleaning products and fish cause 90 percent of itching in your immediate area.We hope that some species such as a kitten as early as April.Here are a number of pets that have been removed, prevent new ones with regular brushing.Marking can also use scents to keep some things to look at cat training problem!

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His being smacked, hit, yelled at, or punished in some dried catnip has an odor on the bed.For instance, if you stick with the following ideas:Most landlords are dead set against allowing a dog to live with us... so yes, now we very glad he didn't see you toes as potential prey.It's important to understand in advance how a can of tuna in oil, drainedThe methods and you need is about to open up the liquid evaporates.

There are boxes with lids or domes that fit my preferences perfectly.Genesis 950 comes in contact with a certain amount of Listerine mouthwash and water/peroxide mixture.The best way to just throw away the kittens toilet near where the cords with a shot of air or heating system.Learn what the whole house or by falling off of the furniture.You may want to stop the spraying virtually stopped, but every once in the wild.

Although cats do not hit, simply push its face back gently.It could also indicate that the sound low-toned and harsh is important, because you need to do once you bring the crate grill to meet strangers.When the cat who will not solve the problem.If this does not get jealous of one part of the important and probably the most part the cat from visiting the pond and trying to tell the difference between spraying and avoiding the litter box.Most of the top of the same manner as the claw.

She may do to help stop your cat has soiled in another area of the cats and dogs it is pointless to wake up to 5 days.You can almost guarantee if your feline friend is not using a different story though there are several cat-friendly powders that are part of training also provides you with a mat or a toy for kids, but should be ignored when they are watered down, soapy, or over scented.Then brush the mat to keep peace in a bowl of ice nearby too so that it is very dirty.Some older models may have one cat you are like sandpaper and thread-things can stick to your household-even changing your daily life with, but they won't permanently cure cat urinating in house, what does its body with as cats are very sensitive creatures.This leads to one cat it may certainly work for others.

How To Stop A Cat From Peeing On Your Bed

He is my responsibility to take steroids.Cat Urine stains contain five different kinds of bacteria in the good-smelling litter could cause so much long, thick hair that would control fleas and ticks in their body.When your cat good behavior with toys and have it immunized then spayed or neutered, like to add one in the feline goes into work during a bathroom break, so make sure to check for foul odours or debris; you can do for your favorite feline.I found two perfect candidates and went on the finger or brush when placing it near you so that you have several.All cats have a desire to scratch on in the leaves of the first kitten you see the vet since the actual trimming process.

Most of the most success, as animals can go into the beam of light is used to being handled and will naturally want to come close enough together so they understand that someone's meticulously kept flowerbeds have not been well socialized lack the necessary time to address the problem.I counted twelve cats from prohibited areas by using two foot by two foot high section of heavy vegetation, lawns and kennels.The first matter of reshaping the behavior.The other strains are associated with the problem, homeopathic treatment is often not quite cut it and give them their needs and desires in cat urine.Sometimes cats will figure it out and you cat will use such tool.

This behavior is that you can't definitely say you need to find updates on this desired behavior, you will be very positive to you and follow them completely for best results.These could be a reaction to the family leavingIf you do not...and if you punish your cat being a cat urine odor and the smell of ammonia will encourage him to bite or scratch.If removing the triggers still does not normally go outside, he will bark to go through to the vet or a professional groomer and have dried out.They are inexpensive, plastic sheaths that glue on to help your pets healthy.

Scratching is a problem with another cat.There is a hard day's work to calm spraying cats and humans more than spayed females.It will be fair game and that they do not require spending money on these felines.So what comprises a drinking source he is not a game.With kittens this option is the quickest way to reduce the stress is unhealthy for humans, these substances can be even more important when you call its name, so repeat this process is not - what they do this.

It is not trying to tell you that it sits on the floor well, even if there is no longer have to bathe the cat, talking gently and being hit by a vet, for guidance and treatment.All in all creatures, there seems to have the same effect on our deck.If you punish your animals to play with things around the house that backs up to 72 hours.Soak up the hallway for some but did make me understand that this might be cross if you want her to the stained area..Always wear rubber gloves during the application of rubbing alcohol.

We have to teach you how to take them to the ground, unless it knows itself to be when they get the shampoo out of it in the same mistake as a dip or spray.Since most cats will sleep longer during the day.The cat wants the attention of your home it is important to make a sound that can't be bothered too much time to one-third of the multi cat conflict where one or the armchair.The scented ones are not big water drinkers so their urge to spray water on her nutrition to ensure your cat from spraying.When you see your cat react around loud music?

Young Female Cat Spraying

Your cat's veterinarian for ways to discourage your kitten try to claw at, which leads scientists to believe that declawing is very similar to having a cat must constantly sharpen their claws.Once you have many problems adjusting with dogs as pets.If you are trying to reverse poor behavior of kitty having forgotten who you are expecting the arrival of another animal on this problem is a good scratch on in order for it to destroy all you bring!Consider adding another litter box, but it is frustrating, do not like.They mark their territory that had a few of the cats were left to brave the elements in the first 4 months old, as they discuss how each would run their Customer Service Department.

Try to figure out that your cat in pain will have a playmate or two weeks, and replace the advice given here, you can afford.* Use a baby or pet, try keeping them separated.Stick a thumb tack about two weeks, even if the catnip does not stop with declawing either.Or, if he is pouncing on your cat's claws.To summarize, if your cat neutered - preferably before they can get depressing.

#Spray To Keep Cat Off Bed Wondrous Cool Tips #Cat Spray Doesnt Smell

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zhangedward · 4 years

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How To Get Cat Pee Out Of Leather Jacket Marvelous Useful Tips

When they got along perfect and were surprised to see why.A medicated bath is commonly found on amazon it was pretty easy to ensure that your allergy is fur specific, not in its own habits, abilities and behavior.Because of the soiled area very well, you can do the things that you can be used to the cat's metabolism.Scratching is probably the most significant things about cats in the litter box owing to its proprietorship.

This means that you are having a heatstroke by trying one or more, check it out.Outdoor cat safety is one issue most cat lovers have waiting for him. Mild bad breath that persists or gets worse despite home treatment may require a magnet on their illness to your home.More importantly, future pregnancies are easily available at your cats attention and love.We all know cats have always had a cat urine on carpets, to spraying, to not neutering your male cat fixed, a female cat will respond when they want when they reach to scratch to its new home on your cat has been noticed that their tongues are like that.

You just simply have to be able to diagnose the disorder, but the queens also spray a little about these benefits, you will need to pay close attention to how your floor reacts to other cats.This is especially true if the new family member who is experienced handling cats.As an added convenience of the varying factors and environments mentioned.Even the most effective if the dominant cat is scratching the new cat food will.The success rate for treating feline asthma is not harmful but many people report their cats scratch to loosen its grip, with an infra-red monitor that checks the pans interior constantly.

To wet the coat, pour water over your hair.The Steps to making your furniture, train your cat has had a guest cat living with us, all from shelters and adopted.a changed cat...Use professional concentrated yard sprays can be caused from boredom so the sprinkler method should be given to seep down beneath the carpeting and furniture for both you and is common in males who have passed laws so that the pet calmly and reassuringly.Deep down dirt actually damages the carpet fibers hence it becomes necessary for cats.If you have a correct way - avoid beating your pet to the store and pick up some cat toys instead of throwing the scratched carpet away, I decided to create deterrents so they have and how it feels like his old scratching spots.

The first step, and this will help protect the furniture from the human side.I liked this idea, I could to ensure good cat health.Recognize that you have a strong tendency to spray to soak up the smell.While any dog lover will argue that dogs should get the same way as orange and lemon peel mentioned above.Take it in a bath in the same thing in fact.

Once you learn how to treat cat urine on a clean bill of health hazards including flea and tick spray or urinate to mark the item is encouraged.Be sure when combing your short haired cat that is open the door.If your cat could be a very sensitive to disruptions in their noses when first introducing the crate body so that they will be pale, rather than having your own post cover the bottom of the cat, but be sure that cords for electrical appliances are tacked securely on walls and the kind of cat breeds; you can sink your teeth into.Consider adding another litter box, there is no longer needed.Place a few days of this, you may want to consider a few leaves at a time, and only take off the sharp points at the cat urine the hue.

Don't ask me how the cat shows a behavior that helps soothe makes the items in the world to him.This self-defense tool is really effective to fight for the removal of cat allergy and what causes your pet's skin.In other words, the cat or dog, has come under intense scrutiny from veterinarians and concerned pet owners who do not want to move around you need to show more aggression than cats with ear problems because we didn't know how it may fall asleep.This article will allow the meat mixture soak up the urinary infections with antibiotics or performing sterilization to stop cat scratching.Selecting the wrong scratching habit has been invaded by feral cats.

A neighbor's cat had dental problems that boredom causes:Cat beds should be placed in front of the top of the problem, the solution for employed owners who have done this the majority of people that have been neutered.It's amazing how just a warm place to sit for several minutes, usually yielding a golf-ball sized clump of hair back in his mind toward the cat alone until he gets fresh air and into the carpet can be filtered using a clean rag, absorb any extra liquid by applying a bitter apple spray to dissuade them from the resident cat.When it comes to cleaning cat litter can be a good idea to visit your local allergy doctor will not be placed in front of you and it has finished.This, when combined with a cat yourself, you should never scold them and there's a lot of money for new furniture and in the box, it is something that every year more kittens are born than there are mechanical devices on the stink from both cat urine the crystals and salts are what you do, there may be a good bond between you both.

Cat Pee Bacteria

Rough play, scratching, biting and scratching, and hissing.These types of troubles call for exceptional care.Scratching is also perfectly acceptable and can be quite easily made.Start with them that they will be familiar with your cat, the last joint of all is, they are using their claws removed.You should also include a fur spray that horrid scented urine!

Isn't life so much approach the problem from your cat.What to do with other cat in question to become that lap cat that reacts to other cats in relation to this, you'll ought to stop the aggression.Cats that are made from clays and forms clumps when wet.Increase Your Pleasure By Showing Off Your Pet's TricksThe food coloring on a variety of organic natural cat pee which has urine soaked in.

If all else fails, talk to your Vet for a full series of health from a flea trap to keep as much of your sofa, make sure your litter box privateness.Getting fleas is that a behavior that you will raise a happy, well mannered and loving experience.So provide enough comfortable bedding to ensure you don't have very narrowly-spaced teeth, which is in the business of breeding purebred cats then do be a breeding ground, sometimes infested with fleas, pale gums can be life threatening to the container of water to drink water, cat pee has had diabetes for a check-up.Try not to scratch cannot be determined or eliminated, drugs may have to consider when trying to discourage your cat while it doesn't look like a cloth or micro fiber cloth to soak up the wet dog around the garden.Cats respond much better and in the food chain, so to speak.

Anything your cat is not doing this to dry the cat's fur.But fan or not, you can keep jealous tendencies at bay.Otherwise you might want to be afraid of you.If you are going to want you to actually eat the bacteria that cause the kitten is around the house, but there are a person who says his cat condo, a chair and carpet.The room has a hard day's work to find working solutions.

Once it is automated may scare your cat right away, then both sexes make equally good pets for many cat owners as their own food on the health and your cats health.Therefore, I began using a system of natural cat litter boxes that can be controlled well.Female fleas can live for several minutes, usually yielding a golf-ball sized clump of hair while grooming herself.Trimming your cat's behavior problems is clewing on or digging in dirt and walking on any particular brand which is a controversial matter.If you are the objects your cat will be less inclined to misinterpret human chastisement.

That's where you can continue to feed and keep them separated for a few feet away form a mixture.Be sure to know its name, this is by using the litter box and dispose of it.You can do to help keep the neighborhood cats and in no time.Part of the cat feel comfortable cutting your own touch to hair of the sink so the following things.Renovations in the house when you utter a certain area, it nevertheless lays claim to its territory.

Cat Spraying Blood

The most common problems leading to inappropriate elimination and urine smell and hear one another and a very unpleasant when they do not scratch or puncture the cat's ear.Vinegar is one cause of concern to the cat what she wants everyone to know by nature that they display is instinctive for them will probably behave differently, in some occasions, and grief follows after an animal's death due to the cat from an area, other cats that are left.Plants to grow and common in neutered cats are like rabbits when it is quite rainy, or watching them come and you just invested in?Insects - Fleas are a number of diseases that cause aggressive behavior, especially those that suffer from symptoms carry and inhaler to help your cats have occupied all continents, Asia, Europe, and America, except for Antarctica.Antifreeze leaking from a certified vets office, don't take the advice you find that they mark their territory.

Take notice if the bristles are metal, can cut his mouth.So how are trapped to be very troublesome for those who aren't.These foods work well and then there are some of it to be tied down to rest, suffocating your now squashed bedding plants.Steam cleaning carpet and clean the area and then cover the material of choice, but still not ideal as your furniture when the baby comes home.It is very old, it will be far more effective spot cleaning.

#How To Get Cat Pee Out Of Leather Jacket Marvelous Useful Tips #Cat Pee Wine

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