#cause hey

why do cows have hooves and not feet?

because they lack-toes. hehehe

(geddit. cuz lack toes sounds like lactose-)

Hehe I knew that one :3

Here’s a horse joke for you >_<

A horse walks into a bar. “Hey,” says the barman.

@randomlifeunit

My first comment! Oh, you're lovely. Thank you! All right, yes, to answer.

Until I recently moved into a 'no pets' home, I had hamsters so I can entirely understand your boys' desire to keep small rodents captive for the mutual amusements of both sides. The first time I saw one of the NIMH mice in a cage instead of streaking across the floor like an oversized cockroach I too entertained the 'but what if we keep him?' thought. I'm proud to say I was just as sensible about it as you were...

but only just barely.

all right - story time! Here, have a cup of something nice and settle in

So, to recap, this winter I had several mice decide the inside of my place was good winter lodgings. I disagreed. I managed to catch three of them and then my brother in law was kind enough to come over and help me. Mice activity seemed to be centered in the kitchen despite the fact I'd locked all the food up like Fort Knox and so he helped me move the stove and the fridge out of the way. Sure enough, the floor behind the fridge had sunk, probably due to water damage from the last tenant, and the gap it left was big enough for a mouse to saunter through and not even have to remove his feather cap for. My BIL did some magic with spray foam and steel wool. He sealed some holes under the cabinets as well. Then he checked the rest of my place and went on his merry way, secure in a job well done. I cleaned up the layers of mouse pee behind the fridge that told me this wasn't their first Christmas there.

So I think all's well. Things are sealed up. I know my other rooms are secure. I've caught everyone I was aware of already and anyone that shows up tonight will just have to realize the hotel has hung out the No Vacancy sign.

Except.

ah, well um, this is a bit of a hard question to answer hahah

so rashadi have very different lifespans than humans do. Rashadi reach maturity around 30, and are young adults from 30-70. their 30 is about equivalent to our 18. they're more settled adults around 70-150, and then they live to be about 200-ish. so honestly, it's a little weird to pin down the queens ages without it looking a little strange for the human/rashadi age gaps. plus the rashadi have a really fucked sense of time cause of these lifespans so do with that what you will.

if you want an approximation of ages, it would be about this:

Catalina: 31

Anne: 49

Jane: 46

Anna: 39

Kitty: 21 (She just looks younger cause shes fucking underfed and uncared for as fuck)

Cathy: 48

The girl had been escorted into the mental institution the night before by the police while everyone else was locked away in their rooms. The headlights of the police cars pulling up the drive was the only indication of a new arrival. Two policemen had stepped out once the car was parked near the entrance and out of the back crawled a girl, her stature small. Her hands, though wrapped in clean white bandages, were handcuffed. Between the two men she walked into the facility. Every muscle in her body was tense, yet still her head was down. Long brunette hair veiled her sharp features, as well as the mess of bruises which were splattered across her pale skin. 

She jumped at the touches of the nurses, glaring at them as she was received. The metal cuffs were removed and instead bands identifying her as a risk. Golden hues stared down at the band-- she couldn’t read much, but whatever it said she knew it wasn’t good. But the word had been tossed around in whispers. If they wanted a risk, she’d damn well give them one. She was tired of being locked away and that’s exactly what would happen to her here. She went from being Darren’s prisoner to being a prisoner here. Different place, same concept. 

To bed she went with little fuss, but in the morning when she was fully rested, Kveta had ever intention of mapping this place out. She was locked into her new bedroom. There she slept beneath her bed rather than in it. She felt safer in the dark hollow between the bed and the wall. 

When morning came the girl peeked out, trying to combobulate herself with her new surroundings. A fresh outfit had been laid out for her at some point, but no one else was there. Carefully she crept out and quickly changed. The clothes felt so soft and so clean against her skin, much better than the grey over sized sweater and baggy pants the authorities had given to her at the police station. Her others had been confiscated as evidence. The blood on them had easily pointed to her as the killer, but she had been dumped in the asylum for evaluation before her hearing. The judge wanted proof of her fits of insanity since the attorney which had been assigned to her was taking a plea of insanity due to her dark past. 

Wandering out of the room Kveta tip toed through the hall ways. Her golden gaze carefully watching as patients and nurses made their way to a central point. From behind a door she peered inside. The scent of food wafted through the air and wrapped around her, holding her captive in its vice like grip. The fifteen year old darted in, refusing to look at anyone. Watching the others, she put her food in the bowl, walking towards a table. That’s when it all went down hill for her... 

Another patient, another woman tried to snatch the food from Kveta. The starved girl dropped the tray, and punched the other in the face, shouting obscenities at her in her native language. Nurses rushed forward to restrain her, but as soon as one grabbed her arm, just above her wrists, she fell into fight or flight mode. 

“Ge’ off me!” Kveta screamed, twisting her arm with a scream of pain. As soon as she was free she darted away, ducking away from arms which tried to grab her. The girl jumped on to the tables, hopping across them to avoid the nurses. Mass chaos broke out. One of the patients she ran past, very nearly kicking his breakfast over, was a young man not much older than she. Her gaze caught his for only a moment before she was leaping on to the next table. 

Out the door she ran and soon she clambered high up on to a filing cabinet. There she perched, glaring down at the nurses, hissing at them. 

I don’t know if it’s an age thing to what, I’m 31 and wasting energy/time/mental space on things that don’t bring me joy seems so ridiculous. When I was 19-23 I thought being indignant and critical was interesting. And that’s just not true.