safer waters

Warsan Shire, “Home”

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

anonymous asked:

What if a Hale-wolf lives after the fire on the street, perhaps with a human who is homeless. And because of these circumstances he looks more like a sick thin dog than a wolf.


On, anon, why would you do this to either of us? 

The wolf is too thin, his belly shrunken and concave, no fat between his thin skin and his brittle bones. He has forgotten how to hunt. He is hunted instead, by the spectre of death. He knows. He doesn’t care. Instead of sticking to the woods where instinct tells the wolf he would be safer—shelter, water, prey—the wolf winds closer and closer into the streets of the human town, and picks through dumpsters and gutters for food.

Here tires screech on asphalt. Cars backfire. The street is hard underneath the pads of the wolf’s paws. Everything is loud and harsh and too, too bright.

The wolf limps down the alleyways, death silently following.

Winter is here. The wolf knows he will not see another one.

The wolf follows his nose. He picks up heady scents above the stink of exhaust fumes and oil and rancid things. The wolf rattles around the trashcans at the back of a cheap diner, and fills his belly with the sick-slickness of greasy burgers. Warmth fills the wolf, and his old friend death steps back for just a moment.

Nose in the air, the wolf continues to explore the alleyway. His claws dig into a pile of damp cardboard as he sidesteps the icy-cold puddle of rain, oil-slicked, in the gutter.

“Hey!” someone says, and the cardboard shifts.

The wolf skitters back, and then remembers that he is a predator. He stops, and turns, and growls.

A boy’s face appears from underneath a layer of the cardboard. It is pale. His eyes are bloodshot and his lips are blue. He has a spray of moles across his face like an unfamiliar constellation. The boy freezes when he sees the wolf. “Holy shit.”

The wolf and death stare back at the boy.

The wolf has forgotten how to mark time.

He has no idea how long it is he stands there.

***

The boy’s bones are as brittle as the wolf’s, his skin as thin. When he curls his fingers through the wolf’s ruff, they are like icicles. His breath though, is hot. It tickles the wolf’s fur when he buries his face against it. His tears taste like salt.

Death circles them, in the little den the boy has made behind the cardboard in an alleyway in the cold, cold town.

The wolf tugs himself from the boy’s grip, and slinks back down the alley to the trashcans. His boy is too cold, too weak to crawl this far, so the wolf picks up a discarded burger in his jaws and carries it back to him.

The boy eats it, crying.

The wolf curls around him when they sleep.

Death steps closer, its black mouth open in hunger.

The wolf growls at it, the sound rumbling through his thin ribcage.

Not tonight.

Not tomorrow.

Maybe not this winter at all.

The wolf has a den now, and a heartbeat to share it with.

When the boy is strong again they will go into the woods and build a shelter there, and the wolf will remember his instincts, and the boy will learn his, and they will be packmates there, where the ground is soft underneath their feet and the stars are visible at night.  

tl;dr: I love every ‘humans are weird’ and ‘death world earth’ post, if you could tag me I’ll love you forever

Seriously though, I fucking love all of these posts about how wild earth and humans are. We literally seek things out that can kill us and build cities there. If it gets destroyed, oh well, we’ll just rebuild it. We allowed dangerous predators to come near us just because we wanted to pet them. We domesticated animals that were predator species and made them work for us. We can survive absolutely wild temperature ranges and have figured out hacks to survive in all types of climates. We sweat profusely when exposed to high heat and/or high humidity to regulate our internal temperature, we shiver when we’re cold, we have a literal drug built into our bodies that will give us bursts of energy and strength when in danger, we can survive a lot of things that aren’t immediately fatal to us, humans developed a better liver just so we could keep imbibing alcohol (no seriously we did, the fermentation of booze killed a lot of bacteria in water & at points was safer to drink than water and for reals I want to know what idiot stuck their hand in this fermented stuff AND DRANK IT THEN WENT OH THIS IS GOOD HERE TRY THIS), just like… w h a t.

Our planet is wild too - we live next to active volcanoes for the better farmland, we figured out how to use the massive heat to produce energy, we have a lot of major cities on major fault lines - and speaking of that has anyone considered how fucking weird it is that the ground is constantly moving around the globe?!?! - we kinda shrug and board up our dwellings when a hurricane is coming, we rebuild after a tornado flattens everything and we basically just go oh well time to clean up when we crawl out from safe places, there are people who live in extreme climates and have adapted to it, we went from swinging in trees to one of the apex predators, our axis tilts and fucking WOBBLES, we’re exposed to so many different types of cosmic radiation on a daily basis, and we actually use that to see, our local star likes to throw hissy fits once in a while AND WE THINK THE MASSIVELY CHARGED SOLAR SHIT IS FUCKING PRETTY. 

Humans, man. We’re so weird. I love it.

Home

no one leaves home unless 
home is the mouth of a shark 
you only run for the border 
when you see the whole city running as well 

your neighbors running faster than you 
breath bloody in their throats 
the boy you went to school with 
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory 
is holding a gun bigger than his body 
you only leave home 
when home won’t let you stay. 

no one leaves home unless home chases you 
fire under feet 
hot blood in your belly 
it’s not something you ever thought of doing 
until the blade burnt threats into 
your neck 
and even then you carried the anthem under 
your breath 
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets 
sobbing as each mouthful of paper 
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back. 

you have to understand, 
that no one puts their children in a boat 
unless the water is safer than the land 
no one burns their palms 
under trains 
beneath carriages 
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck 
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled 
means something more than journey. 
no one crawls under fences 
no one wants to be beaten 
pitied 

no one chooses refugee camps 
or strip searches where your 
body is left aching 
or prison, 
because prison is safer 
than a city of fire 
and one prison guard 
in the night 
is better than a truckload 
of men who look like your father 
no one could take it 
no one could stomach it 
no one skin would be tough enough 

the 
go home blacks 
refugees 
dirty immigrants 
asylum seekers 
sucking our country dry 
niggers with their hands out 
they smell strange 
savage 
messed up their country and now they want 
to mess ours up 
how do the words 
the dirty looks 
roll off your backs 
maybe because the blow is softer 
than a limb torn off 

or the words are more tender 
than fourteen men between 
your legs 
or the insults are easier 
to swallow 
than rubble 
than bone 
than your child body 
in pieces. 
i want to go home, 
but home is the mouth of a shark 
home is the barrel of the gun 
and no one would leave home 
unless home chased you to the shore 
unless home told you 
to quicken your legs 
leave your clothes behind 
crawl through the desert 
wade through the oceans 
drown 
save 
be hunger 
beg 
forget pride 
your survival is more important 

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear 
saying- 
leave, 
run away from me now 
i dont know what i’ve become 
but i know that anywhere 
is safer than here

Warsan Shire

SHE IS BACK!!!!!!

What an entrance. I got chills. I wonder what will happen next?!

“You…shall…see.”

anonymous asked:

who the hell looks at hot dogs, cheapest possible offal+fat+scraps-kind of meat, and decides "ah yes, getting them wet is the problem here. Definitely. Can't let any of that disgusting water touch my Minced Leftover Organs, or they will taint it and steal all its hotdog vitamins and shit. Better use a fucking condom because lube and spermicide getting into the mix are much safer than this horrible Water."

That’s the definition of a soulmate, isn’t it? One soul, two halves, split between two separate forms. Alike in every respect.

In a world where people are born with a coloured marking somewhere on their body, your soulmate is supposed to be the one who carries the exact same mark. Kurosaki Ichigo has never put much stock in these things — and the fact that his black sun mark and Rukia’s white crescent moon is as different as night and day has nothing to do with it. Ichiruki soulmates AU- maybe. 

(Hey guys! This was my entry for IRBB! I have two chapters written - the next chapter will go up next week - and then the rest of the fic will join my roster of wip fics to be updated… when I have time…. hahahaha //cries// 

My partner @jellyribbons did the CUTEST art for my fic, which YOU CAN FIND HERE. Thank you for being such a gem, juliet, even when I didn’t give you much to work with 8ㅁ8

And now, without further ado, please enjoy my irbb fic–

Collision Course

by hashtagartistlife


 

One

Gravitational Collapse

.

.

.

There’s a black mark on Ichigo’s palm.

He’s never spent too much time contemplating it. People attribute so many things to these tiny coloured markings that appear on their skin. They say it tells you the kind of person you are, the kind of person you’re going to be. They say the person you’re destined to be with — your soulmate — has the exact same mark somewhere on their body. Because that’s what the definition of a soulmate is, isn’t it— one soul, two halves, split between two separate forms.  Alike in every respects. There are entire religions based around this concept, dating sites that cater exclusively to making sure you meet up with your other half. Psychics that claim they can read your entire future from that one mark alone.

Ichigo thinks, it’s just a goddamn birthmark.

He hates all this destiny crap surrounding these marks. When Tatsuki had asked him at the age of thirteen what his mark looked like, he’d scowled and told her to shove off. His hand had clenched, reflexive, around the shape getting ever-clearer against his tanned skin. She’d harrumphed, unperturbed, and informed him hers was the shape of a crimson eagle and that it clearly meant she was destined for greater things than him, if his mark was still the misshapen blob she remembers it being when he was nine. He’d responded that her mark looks more like a puddle of spew than the eagle she claimed it to be, and she’d thrown a well-aimed kick at his shoulder and the conversation had been dropped.

By the time he’s fifteen, the mark is well and truly etched onto his skin, no longer misshapen by any stretch of the imagination. Still, he refuses to pay too much attention to it, refuses to try to analyse the shape it’s settled into. It’s all bullshit, anyway. If he squints, he thinks you could almost mistake it for an ink-black sun — see? Bullshit. There was only one sun in his life, and she’d set six years ago and taken all the light in his family with her. His mother was the sun, the one holding them all together with her gravity; not him. And if his soulmate is anything like him, if they, too, are represented by a dark black sun mark somewhere on their body, then he wants nothing to do with them. He wants nothing to do with himself, most days.

So when Keigo asks, exuberant, innocent, what his mark is, Ichigo looks him straight in the eye and tells him he doesn’t believe in destiny.

Keep reading

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

—  “Home” by Warsan Shire
‘Home  - by Warsan Shire’

No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark. You only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well your neighbours running faster than you, the boy you went to school with who kissed you dizzy behindthe old tin factory is holding a gun bigger than his body,

You only leave home when home won’t let you stay. No one would leave home unless home chased you, fire under feet, hot blood in your belly. It’s not something you ever thought about doing, and so when you did – you carried the anthem under your breath, waiting until the airport toilet to tear up the passport and swallow, each mouthful of paper making it clear that you would not be going back.

You have to understand, no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land. Who would choose to spend days and nights in the stomach of a truck unless the miles travelled meant something more than journey.

No one would choose to crawl under fences, be beaten until your shadow leaves you, raped, then drowned, forced to the bottom of the boat because you are darker, be sold, starved, shot at the border like a sick animal, be pitied, lose your name, lose your family, make a refugee camp a home for a year or two or ten, stripped and searched, find prison everywhere and if you survive and you are greeted on the other side with go home blacks, refugees, dirty immigrants, asylum seekers sucking our country dry of milk, dark, with their hands out smell strange, savage – look what they’ve done to their own countries, what will they do to ours? the dirty looks in the street softer than a limb torn off, the indignity of everyday life more tender than fourteen men who look like your father, between your legs, insults easier to swallow than rubble, than your child’s body in pieces – for now, forget about pride your survival is more important.

 I want to go home, but home is the mouth of a shark, home is the barrel of the gun and no one would leave home unless home chased you to the shore unless home tells you to leave what you could not behind, even if it was human.

No one leaves home until home is a damp voice in your ear saying leave, run now, i don’t know what i’ve become.

Axolotl Care Sheet

Keeping Other Animals with Axolotls:

Just say no. Fish will bite the worm-like gills of axolotls. Even bottom feeder fish like Plecos will try to feed on the axolotls. Large snails might attach themselves to the axolotls, or might get eaten by the axolotl and impact its digestion. For the sake of your axolotl, please don’t keep anything else in the tank with it.

Keeping Axolotls Together:

Male and female axolotls will mate throughout the year, and the female can lay several hundred eggs at a time. Same-sex pairs of similar sized adult axolotls are okay to keep together as long as they each have their own places to hide by themselves. Larger axolotls may bully, or even try to eat, smaller axolotls, so only keep adults together if they are within about 1” of each other’s size.

Temperature:

The yearly average water temperature where the axolotls are native is about 70° F, and this is a fine temperature to keep axolotls at all year long. Water temperatures over 75° F are stressful for the axolotl. To aid in cooling your tank, leave the lid part-way open to allow some water to evaporate, and keep the tank out of direct sunlight.

Lighting:

Axolotls prefer low light levels, and benefit from having a steady day/night cycle. To help yourself out with this, place a timer on the light’s outlet, and set it for 12 hours light and 12 hours dark. Give the axolotl plenty of dark hiding spaces, and add plants (preferably live plants) to help diffuse the light.

Water Flow:

Axolotls prefer still or slow-moving water, so if you choose to run a filter in your tank, try to diffuse the water flow with decorations or plants. Axolotls are more active in calm water.

Water Parameters:

Axolotls benefit from water with a pH between 6.8 and 7.4, and need some mineral content in their water or else they will become anemic. To balance your water’s pH and to keep mineral content high, filter your water before adding it to your tank (this can be done with a filtered refrigerator tap or a Brita-style water filter on your sink tap), and to this water add:

2 tsp aquarium salt

2 tsp Epsom salt

1 level tsp baking soda

per 5 gallons of water.

To aid in water filtration, consider adding live plants, which absorb some of the waste produced by the axolotl.

As with any aquarium, make sure to add beneficial bacteria, which can be purchased at any fish shop, and cycle the tank BEFORE adding the axolotl. If unsure about how to cycle a tank, speak with a professional at your local fish shop.

Filtering your water before adding it to your aquarium will remove any chlorine, which can kill an axolotl. Bottles of chlorine-remover can be purchased, but these only cause chemical reactions to produce chlorinated plastics or metals, and do not actually remove the chlorine from the water. A safer way to remove chlorine is to either filter the water ahead of time, as mentioned above, or let the water sit in an open bucket for 24 hours and let the chlorine evaporate.

Substrate:

NEVER use gravel in an axolotl tank. Axolotls eat by sucking in large amounts of water, and in doing so, can accidentally ingest anything near the food. The gravel will impact the axolotl’s digestion and may even kill it. As a good rule of thumb, NEVER put anything smaller than your axolotl’s head in its tank. This includes gravel, stones, snails, decorations, and so on. Aquarium sand (not playground sand) is great for axolotls, or a bare tank bottom will suffice too. The only problem with a bare tank bottom is that the axolotls have trouble gripping it, and moving might become stressful to them.

Decorations:

Axolotls can swim pretty vigorously, and are known to thrash when they eat, so don’t put anything in their tank with sharp edges or rough surfaces. This includes the edges of PVC pipes, splintery driftwood, sharp rocks, and even some fish tank decorations. If you notice a cut on your axolotl, run your finger along everything in their tank and remove any sharp object you find. Even if it’s not sharp in your mind, it may be too sharp for the axolotl’s soft skin.

Feeding:

Some will say that adult axolotls only need to eat every other day or so, but it’s best to feed them smaller portions daily. To get a handle of how much your axolotl needs to eat, keep feeding it until it no longer seems interested in food. Remove any uneaten food within 30 minutes or your water will become contaminated.

A scientific study published by the Journal of Veterinary Behavior proved juvenile axolotls grow fastest on a diet of bloodworms, but this diet is best for juveniles and not so much for adults. Axolotls have little holes in their heads behind their gills to let water flow in and out when they eat, and tiny bloodworms will flow right out through these holes.

The best food for adult axolotls is earthworms. If you choose to find your own worms outside, be sure to avoid taking them from anywhere sprayed with fertilizer, pesticides, or herbicides. While you’re out looking, slugs also make a nice meal for axolotls. To clean off the food you collect, fill a small cup with your tank’s water and let the worms and slugs sit in it for a few minutes, but be sure to cover the cup! This will remove any excess dirt from the food. Store-bought worms are great too, but axolotls can be picky and might not like the kind you buy. Some don’t like Canadian Nightcrawlers, some don’t like Red Wigglers. I’ve had the best luck with “Dillies,” sold as fishing bait at most tackle shops. Some people have had luck feeding axolotls sinking trout pellets, but I have never tried this.

DO NOT feed your axolotl the following: fish, other amphibians, mealworms, snails you catch yourself, any bug with more than 6 legs, spiders, anything that may be venomous, beef heart or any mammalian protein. This list is not exhaustive. Use common sense when feeding your axolotl. Avoid purchasing live aquatic worms from pet stores, as they may be contaminated with parasites.

Further Information:

The internet is a valuable tool for researching animal care, but remember that there is a lot of misinformation out there. Axolotl.org is a great resource for specific information about axolotls. Caudata.org is a good message-board about amphibian care, but not everyone there knows what they’re talking about. The same goes for any amphibian-related groups on social media: it’s hit or miss trying to find someone with good information.

There are a few good books about axolotl care, but most are outdated. These include Developmental Biology of the Axolotl (scholarly article compilation from 1989), Axolotls: Care and Breeding in Captivity (Peter Scott 1995), and any of several books about general amphibian keeping.

Home by Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

Keep reading

hunger - chapter 1

Hunger master post here. 



The wolf is too thin, his belly shrunken and concave, no fat between his thin skin and his brittle bones. He has forgotten how to hunt. He is hunted instead, by the spectre of death. He knows. He doesn’t care. Instead of sticking to the woods where instinct tells the wolf he would be safer—shelter, water, prey—the wolf winds closer and closer into the streets of the human town, and picks through dumpsters and gutters for food.

Here tires screech on asphalt. Cars backfire. The street is hard underneath the pads of the wolf’s paws. Everything is loud and harsh and too, too bright.

The wolf limps down the alleyways, death silently following.

Winter is here. The wolf knows he will not see another one.

The wolf follows his nose. He picks up heady scents above the stink of exhaust fumes and oil and rancid things. The wolf rattles around the trashcans at the back of a cheap diner, and fills his belly with the sick-slickness of greasy burgers. Warmth fills the wolf, and his old friend death steps back for just a moment.

Nose in the air, the wolf continues to explore the alleyway. His claws dig into a pile of damp cardboard as he sidesteps the icy-cold puddle of rain, oil-slicked, in the gutter.

“Hey!” someone says, and the cardboard shifts.

The wolf skitters back, and then remembers that he is a predator. He stops, and turns, and growls.

A boy’s face appears from underneath a layer of the cardboard. It is pale. His eyes are bloodshot and his lips are blue. He has a spray of moles across his face like an unfamiliar constellation. The boy freezes when he sees the wolf. “Holy shit.”

The wolf and death stare back at the boy.

The wolf has forgotten how to mark time.

He has no idea how long it is he stands there.

***

The boy’s bones are as brittle as the wolf’s, his skin as thin. When he curls his fingers through the wolf’s ruff, they are like icicles. His breath though, is hot. It tickles the wolf’s fur when he buries his face against it. His tears taste like salt.

Death circles them, in the little den the boy has made behind the cardboard in an alleyway in the cold, cold town.

The wolf tugs himself from the boy’s grip, and slinks back down the alley to the trashcans. His boy is too cold, too weak to crawl this far, so the wolf picks up a discarded burger in his jaws and carries it back to him.

The boy eats it, crying.

The wolf curls around him when they sleep.

Death steps closer, its black mouth open in hunger.

The wolf growls at it, the sound rumbling through his thin ribcage.

Not tonight.

Not tomorrow.

Maybe not this winter at all.

The wolf has a den now, and a heartbeat to share it with.

When the boy is strong again they will go into the woods and build a shelter there, and the wolf will remember his instincts, and the boy will learn his, and they will be packmates there, where the ground is soft underneath their feet and the stars are visible at night.

***

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anonymous asked:

Miss your writing so much! :-) How about Kurofai steamy prompt "I'm cold"?

Rain was pouring in sheets in Nihon, flooding the roads and confining everyone inside. Many citizens had been evacuated to Shirasagi, as it was on higher ground and safer from the water.

“I’ve never seen it rain like this,” Fai said while peeking outside.

“Close the door,” Kurogane said from where he was polishing Ginryuu. The two were lounging in their room, as there was little else they could do. Papers were strewn across the floor, study materials for Fai as he continued to learn Nihongo.

Fai smiled and shut the door again, quieting the loud winds and rainfall. “Kuro-sama, have you seen it like this before?”

Kurogane shrugged. “Once, when I was a kid. It was so bad it caused a mudslide in the province over.”

“Little Kuro-sama must have been scared!” Fai teased.

Kurogane rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it. At Fai’s smug look, Kurogane glared. “What 8-year-old wouldn’t be scared?”

Fai laughed and moved to sit next to Kurogane, leaning against him. “I’m cold, Kuro-sama.”

“So get a blanket,” Kurogane said.

Fai shook his head with a chuckle. “Are you sure you want that to be your response, Kuro-sama?” He asked, moving to kneel behind Kurogane. He slid his hands from Kurogane’s shoulders, down his chest, and moved his lips close to Kurogane’s ear. “We’re stuck in here for who knows how long,” Fai whispered, and Kurogane’s hand stopped moving the rag over his blade. “Just the two of us to warm each other up…”

He moved back from Kurogane, patting his shoulders, and Kurogane looked back at him. Fai smiled brightly at him. Teasingly.

“But you’re right, Kuro-sama! I’ll get myself a blanket!” Fai said, moving to get up.

Before he could get far, a hand was grasping his wrist and pulling him back down for a kiss. Fai laughed against Kurogane’s lips and wrapped his arms around Kurogane’s shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” Fai said before grabbing the front of Kurogane’s shirt and dragging him to their futon.

anonymous asked:

Can you write about being in love with a pessimistic brown eyed girl of whom you were in love with and thought she felt the same but one day up and leaves?

She was not a light soul. She carried thunder and rain and ruination deep within her. She was always a little bit sad, a little bit angry, and a little bit scared. She was frightened of the darkness within her and so she became the darkness so as not to be afraid. Brown eyes holding an even darker shade behind them.

I loved the dark. I loved the storms. I loved the girl who carried them inside. I thought maybe I could calm those storms, carry her back to safer waters. I loved the thought. I thought she loved me too.

She left one night, slipping away into the darkness. A dark soul. She left behind a little bit of sadness, a little bit of anger, and a little bit of fear. There is no way to bottle thunder and rain and ruination.

Safety

Prompt: “I’ve had one too many surprises today.”
Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin
Setting: Fantasy AU, DRAGONS verse 5, continues “Ominous.”
Characters: Kaoru Kamiya, Maekawa Miyauchi
Word count: 1000


Sir Kenshin’s eyes had been so cold, all his usual kindness and warmth locked away behind a wall so thick that she couldn’t read him at all.

It had scared her.

Far more than her dragon’s snarling in defense of her, to be honest. Her dragon was an impulsive beast and if it had been just its reaction, she could have chalked the whole thing up as a mishap; that her spirit companion had suddenly decided a man it had first accepted was a threat to be driven away.

But sir Kenshin’s eyes, and the blue fire dancing around his right hand…

…just who are you?

Heavy footsteps on the wooden veranda broke her from her thoughts.

“Kaoru-chan, my dear! How are you?”

Kaoru’d had one too many surprises today, but the sudden appearance of her dearest family friend was not an unwelcome one. “Maekawa-sensei!” She tried for a smile. “What are you doing here? I thought you were busy with lessons.”

“I asked one of my older students to take over.” The old man smiled. “After all, when I heard that the courtship meeting of my old friend’s daughter went awry… I had to come over. I hope I am not unwelcome?”

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