Post-T, my voice dropped approximately a fuck-ton (metric) and I can no longer do that. Lil’y has responded by making her own meows as gravely as possible, so I can meow at her again.
So if there are any other guys or non-binaries out there who are worried that their pets won’t recognize them after they start hormone-therapy or something similar, don’t worry. Your pets will love you. They already know who you are.
“When I got my first cat, it changed me. There is something about holding a cat that makes your anger melt away. And if someone does something that upsets me—I have to remember my cat. I can’t keep my cat if I get into trouble.”
“I asked if Major Cabanaw had concerns for the safety of the cats. “Of course, we always want to ensure the safety of the cats, and the staff is great about keeping an eye out for them. But mostly, it’s the offenders keeping them safe. I have never once seen an offender kill his own cat. We screen them to be sure they have no history of animal abuse. But I’ll tell you this, there was a guy killed in here because he had spit soda pop onto someone else’s cat.””
Wow.
Cats now control the prisons. They now have an army.
This post went exactly where I expected. Well done.
LOL OKAY KIDS SIT DOWN BECAUSE I’M ABOUT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THESE CATS
The above is absolutely true. Indiana State (in Michigan City) allows cats. I know this because that was my eldest brother’s place of residence for…quite a number of years.
The cats are rewards for good behavior as well as a form of rehabilitation for them. Taking care of their cats gives them something to do and, yes, like the quote said, an incentive to do as they should. It allows them to have a safe emotional attachment and a constant source of companionship and affection. We all know the positive effects pets can have on mental health and these cats do the same thing for them. And, hell, it adds another level of responsibility because the inmates buy everything for their cats! You may not know this, but inmates can and do have jobs that earn them money, which those who are cat owners then can use to buy the food, litter, toys, etc for their cats.
My brother had at least two cats while he was there.Yes, those guys will
fight you over their cats. Make no mistake. They’re like family. These cats are individually owned but they are also a community effort. Inmates will ‘babysit’ each others cats if need be or help them care for them. Even if the cat isn’t theirs, just having one around and available for pets and cuddles can be very therapeutic.
I have a picture of my brother somewhere
that he sent us of him sitting against the wall with 4 or 5 of the
prison cats chilling around him. On the back someone had written: “The Cat Man of Alcatraz.”
Lol one day when we were coming to visit, there was a cart piled with multiple cat carriers on the other side of the metal detector and in true me fashion I was like “asdfghfdfg KITTIES CAN I PET??!??!” The desk guard explained that they were the inmates cats coming back from their vet visits. There had to have at least been ten cats.
BUT!! Not all prison cats have an owner. According to my brother, there used to be a cat who simply lived on the prison grounds and roamed as she saw fit. Her name was Punk Ass Kitty. Yes. You read that right. Punk Ass Kitty. And Punk Ass did what she wanted, went where she wanted, whenever she wanted, and most of the inmates liked her. Apparently when they saw her they would say, “Hey Punk Ass!” or something similar. 😉
I kind of went all-out with this when I decided to add a background. Surprisingly Rei came out really well, because usually he’s the one I struggle with the most.
When Yuuri still went to school in Japan, he gradually
understood the importance of the day. Girls would sweep homemade chocolate
delicacies to boys or other girls, or everyone would gift everyone plain
chocolate, and a month later, guys would reciprocate triply. Some people, of
course, would just celebrate both days – the more chocolate or candies, the
better, after all. But while he had received his fair part of chocolate, he
never had to reciprocate anything but obligatory presents on White Day.
However, as he now has a non-Japanese lover, he
quickly starts pondering about Valentine’s Day itself. Could Victor really be
expecting to be offered chocolates on this day? Or maybe would he want
something else? They were athletes, after all…
His musings take the form of endless loops on
the ice, mostly after his practice, while Victor works on his own programs. It
does not go unnoticed by some younger blond skater, who had grown into the
habit of staying after practice, too. He would never say it, but he actually
enjoys getting Yuuri to himself after their parallel training sessions – they still
trade instructions on jumps or steps sequence.
And Yuuri is a nice person. After stealing Victor
in Japan for a year, he actually brought him back to competition, and then
proceeded to make the whole Russian team fall in love with him as well. For
Georgi, it happened when he confided that half of his skating feelings now
emanated from the love he felt for his fiancé. For Mila, it had been easier – Yuuri
just had to shyly comment on her strength on the ice, before promptly bowing
before her out of respect, and she had been enchanted by his character. Even Yakov
had come to admire his tenacity on the ice, and Lilia had been charmed by his underlying
skill in ballet-like step sequences.
So, even if he does not say it, Yuri Plisetsky
is damn grateful the other Yuuri became his rink mate. Hence why, after
watching him circle for a good dozen minutes on the ice without attempting any
jumps or any more complex patterns, he starts skating towards him, matching his
speed and adjusting to his movements.
They would do great in pair skating, he thinks,
then blushes, and also scowls.
“Oï, katsudon!” he calls him, shaking him out
of his thoughts.
“Ah, Yurio!” Yuuri smiles, reducing his speed. “Are
you going to wait on Victor too? Did you want to come over tonight?”
“Do I… Yeah, why not”, Yuri easily agrees, even
if spending the night at Victor and Yuuri’s apartment during the week meant
lazily ordered cheese and pepperoni pizza with an added ration of home-cooked green
vegetables. “But that’s not what I wanted to ask, in fact.”
His embarrassment tints his cheeks in an even
deeper red, and he purposefully faces the other way before continuing his
sentence.
“You’ve been at it for hours now,” he exaggerates
to refer to Yuuri aimless skating. “I’ve seen you staring at Vitya. Is there
any…you know…anything going on?”
And Yuuri, in a testament of how much he must
be worried at something, does not even tease him for caring about his stupid
couple. Instead, he gestures for Yuri to follow him to the edge of the rink,
reaching for a tissue in the puddle tissue box Victor always brings to
practice. After blowing his nose, he leans on the barrier, and while gazing at
his fiancé, asks Yuri in a low voice:
“Do you think Victor even celebrate Valentine’s
Day, Yura?”
Okay, no. Yuri did not expect this to be
bothering the other skater. His own Valentine’s records were a big, empty grid,
and he does not particularly want to think about it right now. But after one
look at the other man’s face, he painfully understands that he apparently has
to. Damn.
“Do you mean it, like, do we celebrate the dumb
day in Russia, or does he personally
do it?”
“No, I meant… Victor. I know you do it in
Russia, I researched it a bit, but… Do you think he would like to do it, you
know, with me?”
Yuri stares at him, speechless. What an idiot.
“Katsudon. You and Victor literally are
engaged. With gold rings and all. Do you really
think he would object to being your Valentine?!”
At this, the other skater actually smiles, his
face brightening as if he had momentarily forgotten he was engaged to his
partner. What an idiot.
“Ah, you’re right, Yurio… I should not worry so
much!” he says in a self-conscious voice.
“I know you don’t do it on purpose,” Yuri
mechanically answers.
Yuuri turns his attention to him, a fond look
on his face. Suddenly, his grin freezes, and he starts biting his lip.
“Say, Yurio… In Japan, when we…well, when girls
offer chocolates on Valentine’s Day, they often try making it themselves.”
“Are you a girl?” Yuri asks, nonplussed.
“No,” the other admits. “But it is Valentine’s Day.”
“What is your point, katsudon?”
“My point is… I do share a kitchen with Victor, now. Do you think Yakov and Lilia
would object to me using theirs for a day?”
Yuuri had never thought baking homemade
chocolates would be this hard. In this moment of adversity, he finds himself
thanking Kami and the Heavens for the presence of Yuri Plisetsky who, after
having sworn he would not be setting
a foot in the kitchen except for a fire breaking out, came rushing in as soon
as one of the bowls clattered to the floor.
“It is not that
hard, katsudon, stop moaning.”
They are both wearing aprons, and while Yuri’s
is immaculate, even as he is stirring a sugarish paste with force, Yuuri’s own
cloth is covered in colorful blotches of food.
“I can’t believe Hiroko did not teach you how
to cook. Or your father. Whatever. How did you survive in Detroit?”
“Making chocolate is very different from
cooking everyday dishes,” Yuuri defends himself while attempting to tidy the
counters. “I can usually get by as long as it’s not too complicated. But I’m
helpless when it comes to pastries or such.”
“Nah, you think?” the boy sarcastically
answers, still picturing the mess he helped saving.
His cat had been far too happy to try licking
everything on the floor as well. As if one idiot in the house was not enough.
“Perhaps I should try using chocolate in other
stuff. I heard people use it as spice sometimes. Do you think it would be a
good idea to put chocolate in katsudon?”
The blond teenager stops stirring, addressing a
look of pure disgust at the Japanese man.
“Get out of here. I don’t even want to see your
face anymore. I’ll keep you away from the chocolate even if that’s the last
thing I do.”
The other has the audacity to laugh, as he puts
the already baked confections out of the oven.
“Hey, look, these turned out okay!” he happily
exclaims, sliding the batch of chocolates on the kitchen table.
He then rummages into a plastic bag, retrieving
a still sealed package covered with Japanese writings. He opens it, and shows a
bright heart-shaped box at Yuri, an excited grin on his lips.
“Isn’t it the cutest? Mom sent it to me, she
said it was the one she used for my dad and her first Valentine’s Day!”
As Yuri bits back the urge to gag at the overly
sweet gesture, he contemplates the state of the kitchen, and sighs at the
lecture awaiting him. Truly, the things he would do for his friends…
On the fourteenth, Victor wakes up alone.
Slightly disappointed, he rolls out of bed and starts a little at the time
displayed on his microwave. Ten in the morning. Well, no wonder Yuuri had
already left! Especially since his coach had not even told him practice was not
in order for the day…
Yuuri left him a note, stating he did not want
to wake him up too early since yesterday had been very…rowdy. Yuuri is used to
short nights – and Victor is not. The note also tells him that Makkachin needs
to be walked and that fresh coffee awaits him in the coffee pot.
Victor’s throat grows tight. How did he even
live here without Yuuri? The little reminders of his fiancé’s presence in his
apartment are as many reminders that he is loved. He is such a lucky man.
He wants the day he had planned to begin
already. He eats quickly, dresses in the same manner, and finally coaxes Makkachin
into leaving the couch – her old bones more often than not make her prefer to
rest in on the soft furniture instead of frolicking outside. As he comes back
with her from the nearby park, he stops before the florist shop in which he had
made his order a week ago. The huge bouquet of blue roses smells heavenly and
weights a comforting lot in his arms.
“Now, Makkachin, what do you want to do today?”
he asks his dog, which yawns, clearly indicating that she plans on napping and
lounging around the place.
Well, someone has to. If this day goes the
right way, he would not be coming home before late at night, after all.
After a last thorough petting of Makkachin
bouncy curls and plump cheeks, he finally leaves, practically jogging to the
rink where he is sure to find his lover. When he arrives, Yuuri is not even on
the ice, but half-lying on the bleachers, languidly watching the other skaters
practice under Yakov’s rough lead.
“So that’s what you do when your coach isn’t
around? Lazing around like a slob?”
Yuuri sits, directing a serene smile to his
lover, who swoops in to steal him a kiss. They separate under the
oh-so-not-discrete belching of someone on the ice, and Victor reveals the
bouquet hiding behind his back.
“Oh, Victor… Are you serious…”
“Be my Valentiiine, Yuuri!!” Victor singsongs, offering
him the elegant flowers with a smirk.
“Tch… You wouldn’t let me ask, would you?”
Yuuri answers, accepting the present with trembling hands. He is so thrilled. “There’s
…”
“Yuuri!!” Victor exclaims, already going down
on one knee.
“Victor, if you planned on proposing to me, I’m
sorry to break it down to you, but I kinda beat you to it months ago…”
“No no,” Victor guffaws, his hands working on
his fiancé’s skates laces. “Just let me untie that.”
“No practice today?”
“No practice today,” he confirms, making the
other man steps out of his shoes. “I’m taking you on a picturesque tour around
St Petersburg today!”
“Did you find that expression in a touristic
brochure?” Yuuri teases, laughing at Victor’s face. “Come on, big dork; take me
sightseeing instead of pouting.”
And despite Yakov’s protests at his eloping
pupil, they rush out of the rink, chuckling under the drizzling rain of a “regular”
day in St Petersburg.
Yuuri won’t lie. This has easily been one of
their best dates yet. Victor went all out – rented car, champagne, and finally
a candlelight dinner at a restaurant he had been forbidden from looking at the
prices. He would feel bad if not for the cheerful expressions on Victor’s face
each time he revealed another surprise. If the man wanted to dote on him, he
would let him.
When they come back home, they first and
foremost spend some time with their loving puddle, feeding her and brushing her
difficult fur. High-maintenance, just like her human, Yuuri scoffs internally.
Even though today, he felt the one
pampered.
As they enter their bedroom, he thinks that he
has to reciprocate, somehow. He wants to do the pampering, now. Since he does
not want to be bothered by on overly curious dog in the middle of things, he
kicks the door close with the heel of his feet, before passing a hand through
his hair, almost absent-mindedly.
Victor gulps, already retreating to the bed.
His Yuuri has the looks of long and pleasurable nights and he can’t wait. He
throws an angelic smile at him, opening his arms invitingly.
Yuuri does not hesitate to pounce on him,
pushing Victor on the bed. He gets an enthusiastic “Wow!” from the man, before
he shuts him up for good.
On the next day, a thoroughly ravished and
hickeys covered Victor wakes up in his bed, alone once again. As he extends his
arms, he smiles contentedly, stretching. His fingers meeting the warm body of
his dog, which Yuuri must have let climb on the bed after he left for the rink,
meaning he has already walked her.
He gets up, his smile widening at the enormous bouquet
put in a vase on the coffee table. He is way too eager to meet his fiancé
again, so he packs his breakfast to eat on the way to the rink.
It is almost noon when he reaches the building,
and he goes straight to the locker room, ready to change and pull on his
skates. What he gets, however, when he opens his locker’s door, is a note and a
colorful heart-shaped box. His own heart begins beating twice as hard, as he
quickly retrieves the note.
To Victor Nikiforov,
I feel like a
schoolboy, hiding these in your locker and leaving you a note, but please bear
with me. I never got to do this when I was an actual Japanese schoolboy, because
even when I was a child, you already occupied my every thought. I won’t lie and
say I never offered Yuuko chocolates, that would be rude, and I am not rude,
but these are the first I effectively baked myself, and that ought to count for
something, no?
This is how we
celebrate our loved ones in Japan. And God, do I love you. It is embarrassing how
much I do. Some days, I have to pinch myself to be sure all of that is real.
I am so glad I’m living
and training with you here in St Petersburg. Even your bad coffee and horrible
cooking skills make me glad. This is our first Valentine’s Day together, but I
will make sure it is the first of a lifetime of Valentine’s Day.
I love you. Please be
my Valentine?
Katsuki Yuuri
Victor is not aware he is letting delighted
giggles escape him until he is running out of the locker room half naked and
barefoot, clutching the chocolate box to his chest. He barges in the rink main
area, spotting the dark hair of his lover resting at the barrier. He gently
shakes the box in the air, shouting at his skater.
“No solo practice today, Yuuri! I’m your
Valentine for one more day!!”
Young Yuri looks away and grumbles. Exactly
what he needed today, watching Katsudon and Victor pair skate all afternoon
with mushy looks on their faces.
Ah, well, as long as these idiots are happy…he
feels like he can, maybe, deal with it.
Title: Where Stars are Born Author: Lainx Rating: / Warnings: / Summary:
Humans
have it good. They raise their faces to the darkened sky, and if they are
lucky, they can spot myriads of stars shimmering against the black canvas of
night. Stars seem a constant of their busy life, so busy they barely take the
time to admire them. And yet, somewhere, in another universe, stars die, and
stars must be reborn.
The neutral singular pronoun “they” is used
here because the creatures depicted in the AU are genderless.
Snow shushes all sounds. The soft white powder
falls, falls, falls, in a never ending shower of big round flakes, and covers
every speck of ground. In this frozen realm, life is slow. At first glance, you
can’t even notice any living signs. All you can see is an endless valley of
night, in which only dimmed stars may find rest to.
But the Snow People do exist. For the longest
time, even when they only were lurking spirits in fertile otherworldly
imaginations, they had been living in the hard underground of this alter
dimensional planet.
Just like their kingdom, the creatures are slow
and ice-covered. Their eyes are big, accustomed to the feeble light of their dwelling,
and their hair is long, often tickling their shins. Their skin tones range from
the pearliest white to the darkest onyx. Some lucky beings sport delicately
colored skin, touched by puffs of blue, red, and even gold shimmers – and those
are called the “Tears of Stars”.
The underground is a very peaceful place.
Glittering caverns are used as public areas, while darker caves serve as
private zones. The walls are covered with diamond-hard stones, whose solidity
and thickness protect their inhabitants from the dangerously cold air of the
outside world. Said inhabitants mostly live in patient harmony, dedicated to
their task in the grand scheme of things; while their hearts are the home of
fallen stars and hopes, great lights linger in their inner frozen depth, ready
to be bestowed on new cosmic children.
Just like us, they experience joy, sadness and
anger. But such is their delicate composition that they are advised against
extreme feelings. Unless, of course, that they do have to send a new star to
the night sky.
Silvery has been living in the underground for
the longest time. They are highly regarded as one of the finer star crafter of
their people. Giving birth to a star is no trouble for Silvery. Many Snow
People do risk their lives when trying to complete the task – but not them.
After years and years of practice, they finally learned exactly how to let the
right amount of their being melt, just enough for the bright light to escape
them and nicely turn into the prettiest star. The process is, in theory,
simple; as you, a Snow person, experience a relatively strong emotion, your
core warms and melts your unstable body, until the light of the dead stars you
have consumed before shines out of you and assembles into a new meteor.
The difficulty in fact lays in the intensity of
the emotion, and in the opening you allow to the light. Let yourself be
consumed by feelings, and your entire being may as well wilt away. Restrain the
light fissure too much, and the star created will be too feeble to survive,
thus wasting the precious stellar light gathered through millenaries by your
kind.
After losing way too many lives to the birthing
of stars, the Snow People had changed their approach. Instead of working as
individuals on their own stars, they would help each other through shows of
graceful movements – and personal birthing was outlawed. The shows were
carefully timed and choreographed to elicit just the right amount of emotions,
simultaneously in the performer and in their audience. Thanks to these leisure
dances, the celestial systems gradually filled with lights, and fewer and fewer
lives were lost.
Silvery had been one of the first Snow people
to master the art of dancing. Their incredibly measured movements, their
expressions as they glided on the freezing ground of the main public area – everything
about them was optimal for secure star birthing. They became parent to millions
of stars. They are as-close to legendary as they, creatures of the mind, can
get.
In the eyes of one Tear of Star, however,
Silvery was so, so much more. As soon as Sunlight Cup had seen Silvery dance,
they had been utterly mesmerized. Centuries were subsequently spent copying their
movements in the privacy of the darkness, the creature fighting all along to
remain unified, while birthing thousands of stars in secret. Sunlight Cup loved
to call them “Silvery’s children” – and they were their deepest secret.
Not all Snow People could perform. The honor
was reserved to the best dancers, in order to ensure the security of the whole
community. It took another several centuries for Sunlight Cup to dare setting
foot as a performer in the Main Area. Before doing so, they spent a long time
rehearsing, and grooming themself. Their long, dark and thick hair were
carefully pushed out of their face, and braided around their left arm. Their gilded
skin had been purified and massaged.
They must have repeated the moves a thousand
times. One of their arms reaches behind their head, the slow arch of the hand
brushing their black hair. They start spinning on themselves, crossing and
extending their arms with gusto, an inspired look on their face. They sink on
one knee and then twirl to another poised position. The dance really begins;
they reach towards the audience, launching themself in a series of stunningly
complex steps which airily brush the floor. Even when they jump, gravity seems
to be working with them, slowing their landings. And they spin, they spin, eyes
half-closed and skin sending glimmers on the walls, until they come to a stop,
arms crossed under their chin, a single tear escaping their huge unblinking
eyes.
A dozen illuminated orbs spirals around the
dancer, who lets their back arch, liberating their own inner light which flies
to rejoice with its siblings. A moment later, they disperse, leaving the Main
Area filled with unconscious Snow People who are gently carried one by one to
their private zones.
As Sunlight Cup feels themself slip as well,
they desperately search for the face of their inspiration, and melt a bit more
when they see them being ushered out of the room, as if severely touched by
their performance. A hint of pride adds to their weakness, and they finally
crumble to the floor, utterly defeated by fatigue.
They meet again, of course. Now that Sunlight
Cup is an appreciated performer, they often find themselves chatting or even
casually rehearsing together. Silvery looks fascinated with the shimmer of
Sunlight Cup’s skin, while Sunlight Cup longs to braid the hair of their idol
themself. Silvery is the first to ask if they could be allowed to style the
heavy tresses of their friend, and Sunlight Cup reciprocate by rubbing the dust
out of Silvery’s skin. If one of them decides to rest, the other follows – and if
only one of them is able to rescue the light of a dying star, they both refrain
from eating.
They do not admit how emotionally close they
have become until they find themselves in Sunlight Cup private zone, whispering
praises at each other while memorizing their bodies and facial expressions with
the tips of their fingers. Sunlight Cup’s fingers leave trails of gold in
Silvery’s thin strands of hair as they rub their faces together, their legs
strongly enclosing their respective hips.
“I could go on forever”, Sunlight Cup sighs,
shivering in pleasure. “Do you feel the same, Silvery?”
“You know I do”, the other coos, mouthing at
their partner’s neck. “I adore you so much, my Gold, I love caressing you and
seeing you dance and hearing you speak…”
They keep moving together in silence for a
moment, until Sunlight Cup starts speaking again, in an infinitely tender tone.
“There is something I need to show you,
Silvery. Promise me you will never speak of it to anyone.”
“I would never betray you, my Gold,” is the
firm answer that Sunlight Cup gets.
Freeing one of their hands from the curls of
their partner, Sunlight Cup vaguely waves toward the ceiling of their private
room. The dark rock waver and tiny specks of light appear. Silvery’s big eyes
widen in surprise at the stellar system he definitely
does not recognize.
“What are those?”
“I call them, ‘Silvery’s children’ ” Sunlight
Cup explains, bashful. “I birthed them all, before I got around performing.”
“ ‘Silvery’s…children…’ “ the other Snow person
repeats, their internal frozen core heating at an alarming rate.
“You have always been my greatest inspiration,”
the other says back, love saturating their voice. “I’ve always, always admired
you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I birthed my first star watching you.
I’ve been wanting you for so long…”
And Silvery loses it and dives in, their pale
skin blending with the other’s, noises of delight evading them as they try
ravishing their partner. Both of them have never felt so warm, so good before. They
just can’t stop. The feeling is too strong; their inner glows vibrate too fast,
as if an electric current was coursing through their bodies. This is by far the
fastest thing they ever experienced – even jumps and landings are not that
rapid.
The darkness is but an old memory in this tiny
cavern. Both creatures are gloriously glowing, dashes of white and gold
mingling amidst the blinding spectacle. Distraught congeners arrive, sensing a
dangerous raise of temperature, and, dumbfounded before the display, they halt
at the opening. Some quiet sobs can be heard as they witness their two best
performers lose themselves into each other. Fragile Snow people are sluggishly
pushed behind the mob in an attempt to protect them from the aura of love and
passion emanating from the giant orbs of light busting through the low ceiling.
The twin suns leisurely dance around each
other, all the while steadily rising in the skies. Their combined rays of light
explode in millions of colors on the glistening snow covering the ever-frozen domain,
turning falling flakes into iridescent flimsy gems. As if saluting their
audience for the last time, they separate for a moment, stilling the world in
an instant of everlasting magnificence, before joining the firmament, where
they will glow together in Eternity.
