#piinkviscera

Are there any that are instinctively afraid of him? Does he ever keep any little snackies on him to share with strays he may come across?

SEND ME META TOPICS TO WRITE ABOUT LOGAN! || ACCEPTING

Astrid I am on one knee for you with a ring pop in a little velvet box as we SPEAK.

But simple answer, no! No animal is instinctively afraid of him. Well- Okay. He does naturally read 'predator' to other animals, if he's not trying to be anything else. He smells like a hunter. So in that sense, yeah, animals are afraid of Logan. If he's running with the wolves, he's treated like any other wolf.

But if Logan is just being Logan, then, no, not really. This boils down to another aspect of his powers - his empathic connection with animals. He can't project his thoughts or read theirs, but he can make them understand what he's feeling. He can make them know he doesn't want to hurt them. That he's a friend. It's why we see him interact with so many animals that should otherwise want nothing to do with him. For example, when the ringmaster tries to feed Logan to hungry dogs, he befriends the dogs instead. When Roman tries to feed him to starving lions (I wish this wasn't a trend), Logan befriends the lions (and sics them on Roman). Wolves and deer will come up beside him if he's having a drink from a stream in the forest. Dogs, cats, and other domestic animals will come up and say hi to him in the streets. Once, he was 'hunting' (read: trying to get to pet some animals) and a baby elephant left its herd to go say hi to him - which, to be fair, is peak baby behaviour, but it's still cute. He's even made friends with some ghost animals!

If he wants animals to like him, they will like him. If he's ignoring him, they can get a little spooked, just like if any other animal was nearby. It's almost like he can just turn their fear off and let them know he just wants to give them a patpat.

@piinkviscera asked : [   MASSAGE   ]     ,   receiver  gives  sender  a  back  rub. (For Wren!)

She works so hard and Wren will never grow unaffected by the thought. There are many things she thinks about when Alya is away, and today she's sort of stuck in her own head. Wondering about what life could have been like had she not been...reduced to being this. There's nothing wrong in staying home to be there when a special someone comes home at the end of a long day, but she often wonders...why her?

Pushing the intrusive thoughts aside that haven't left her all day, she pulls Alya down to the couch once dinner is done. She's not a professional masseuse by any means, but she can try her best. Her freshly done nails may offer a delicate scrape, not to cause pain but hopefully for some mild stimulation at the very least, Wren settles behind Alya and gets to work on her shoulders, the juncture of that sensitive spot where her neck meets said shoulders...simply allowing her thoughts to settle in an undisturbed puddle while she concentrates.

Even with Micah having gone, what — months without seeing Alya? Just letters back and forth, plans for reuniting someday that finally happened, after they had left that big city. Even then, it was more than easy to tell those words weren't entirely true. Whether that be from Micah just. . . knowing their friend well enough, or being perceptive enough to catch an off tone. It didn't matter. It immediately kicked their protective nature into gear. Not exactly something most got to see, all things considered. Micah was always more standoff-ish. Shy would be a good word, but so would anti-social. Most never got to see their deeper layers. Like the empathy and genuine care they always tried to give, especially to friends.

Malcolm's mind was never settled unless he had a murder to solve. Maybe settled wasn't exactly the right word for it then, either, since his energy could get a little manic when he was chasing down a lead. The leads had all frustratingly dead-ended today, and he found himself at a standstill. It was late in the night. Most normal people would go home and sleep on it, hoping for things to look clearer in the morning, but he didn't work like that. Sleep never brought him clarity, only horrors and more questions.

No, what he needed was to talk through his various trains of thought with someone who could keep up with all seventeen different lines at once, and there just weren't that many people in the world. He had a very bad habit of turning to his father in moments like this, but it was one he was trying to break. He had enough of Dr. Martin Whitley in his head to last a lifetime, thanks. Instead, he was trying something new. He'd stopped at a local coffee shop in his way to the precinct and picked up Alya's favorite and his. There was no such thing as too late for caffeine when they worked the kinds of hours they did.

He'd made an educated guess she would still be there, the lights on in the morgue, and he knocked lightly on the doorjamb with his free hand. "Am I interrupting?"

𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐀 ; "It was an accident." / @piinkviscera

❛ 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 ? ❜ 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 , 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 . the shadows seem to flicker as he breathes , curling around this dark and obscure ringleader . he's lived for so many years at this point ⸻ seen cities and countries rise and fall around him ⸻ yet he's never seen someone intrude so boldly into the back restricted area of his tent . how very daring .

she has a habit -more like a ritual- of making sure she always finishes her food. it's wasteful not to and far be it from moby not to use everything she could. so it's a pesky, irritating thing when she's interrupted by a jogger taking an odd route through the woods. moby was forced to leave behind a perfectly good meal with less than a few bites taken out of him and a couple hours later, her prey was laying rotting away in a metal box at the nearest hospital, DOA. unacceptable.

getting in was easy when she decided to shed the skin she was born into. she liquifies herself, turning her bones and muscle into a viscous blood to travel the vents, happy that many of her senses were cut off to spare her any amount of time from having to endure the hospital's overpowering scent. she spends the next twenty minutes watching, waiting for the attending coroner to leave. leave, leave, so she can eat whats hers. finish what she started.