#animal care experts near me

[whosavailable]

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[jesterofcringe]

Drain you of your love [Until you hate me.] vampire!shauna x witch!reader

★ TW for murder and blood ★ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

★ The last thing you expected to see in the basement of one of Jeff's infamous parties was Randy Walsh's still warm dead body. On the bathroom floor he laid sprawled out, face twisted in something of agony as blood gushed out of his neck and dirtied his surroundings. There was no denying that he was murdered. Worse however, there was no denying Shauna Shipman was to blame.

★ There was blood everywhere- the baby blue walls, the bathmat (which, for some reason, was in front of the sink), and leaking into the tiles as well as foundation keeping them still- but most of it was on Shauna. You would've thought she was the one who had gotten hurt due to the sheer mess of red on the front of her shirt, but the way her palms were almost dyed red as she tried to wipe her hands on his shirt told you otherwise. In an almost nauseating way, a lot of it smeared around the corners of her mouth, meeting at the base of her chin before tracing along her jawline. Like an uncoordinated runway, the blood would slither down the outline of her throat before collecting on her shirt.

★ If you hadn't known Shauna was a vampire, you probably would've fainted. 

★ "...Holy shit." You mumbled, absolutely gob smacked on the carnage in front of you, "How did you even manage to do this?"

★ Shauna looked just as confused as you as she fumbled for a good answer, "I don't know! I just wanted to feed off him I didn't know he'd..." She didn't finish her sentence, instead gesturing to the bloodbath at her feet.

★ "When's the last time you ate?"

★ "I don't know... a few weeks ago I guess."

★ "Oh my god Shauna. That's the problem." You groaned, frustrated that you knew more about vampires than the literal vampire. In all fairness, she had turned recently- perhaps a few months ago- and was still getting used to it. Knowing of your status as a witch, Shauna decided to go to you for help. You're not a supernatural expert, but you knew enough about them to give her basic advice, "You need to eat at least once a week. What happened to the animal blood?"

★ Shauna made a face, "That stuff tastes awful."

★ "So I've heard, but it's all I've got." The more you thought about it, the more you felt bad. You couldn't imagine what it must've felt like, the moral conflict of needing to consume human blood in order to survive. Many tried to resist the urge, but the withdrawal just made the desire stronger until the hunger was strong enough to drive someone into quite literally going feral. You never understood why people labeled vampires as monsters until you watched it happen with Shauna, witnessing her spiraling and damn near losing your life as you tried to get her back. 

★ Now you were doing your ever loving best to make sure Shauna never descended to that level again, and here the two of you were staring at a pale corpse after Shauna slipped and accidentally took more than Randy could give. You really do need to start keeping a better eye on her.

★ Though it was awful to look at, you brought your attention back to the crime at hand, "So, what's your plan on avoiding jail time?"

★ "I didn't really think that far ahead."

★ "How did you even get him down here?"

★ Shauna rolled her eyes and scoffed, "I literally told him what I was gonna do and he fucking followed me. He took it as a weird innuendo when I meant it as a threat."

★ "That's... a very Randy Walsh thing to do." In a weird way, you honestly weren't very surprised.

★ "He kinda deserved it."

★ "Victim blaming someone who was murdered is insane."

★ "Shut up." Shauna shoved past you to get to the sink, being very careful not to step on the bloody mat while she ran her hands under the faucet water to rinse the rest of the blood down the drain, "We need to do something about the body."

★ "We? You're the one who killed him!"

★ "Well now you've both seen the body, so you're officially an accomplice."

★ You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose as you struggled to come up with a solution, "I guess what I'm really wondering is what you expect me to do about this."

★ "Aren't you a witch? Can't you like, teleport him out of here?"

★ "That is absolutely not how it works. Best I could do is draw a protection sigil on the door but I know how you feel about those." You honestly didn't know why you were even mentioning it. Shauna hates your protection sigils, and you really didn't know why. You insist they aren't dangerous, but she won't have it. You had to take to wearing different charms as drawing on your arms was an instant way to piss her off.

★ She completely ignored your comment, "I kind of wish we could just frame someone, but the puncture wounds in his neck are kind of a giveaway. 

★ "We could probably frame it on Randy."

★ Shauna looked at you like you had three heads, "Did you not hear what I said or are you planning on making it look like Randy somehow bit himself to death?"

★ "I bet if we smear his fingerprints over a pair of scissors and place them well enough it'll look like he just kinda..." You trailed off as you were sure Shauna saw where you were going with this. Although she saw the vision, she was still somewhat skeptical, "I mean, what other ideas do we have?"

★ Shauna hummed as she contemplated the idea, "There are some scissors in the kitchen, I'll run and grab them quickly-"

★ "-Absolutely not." You quickly interjected, gesturing to her clothes, "You look like the final girl in a cheap horror flick. I'll get the scissors while you clean up."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

★ The car ride home is awkward to say the least.

★ The two of you spent a considerable amount of time dressing the crime scene before promptly leaving the party. Shauna wasn't able to get all of the blood out of her clothes, but she was able to clean just enough so it no longer looked like she had just escaped a saw trap. You grabbed a spare hoodie from your car and let her wear it out. As you left, the both of you made an excuse about Shauna not feeling good and needing a ride home.

★ "Do you think Jackie would've noticed how long you were down there?"

★ You watched a wave of realization cross over Shauna's face as she contemplated your question, "...Jeez, I think this is the only time I've actually hoped she was too busy with Jeff."

★ "Does she know you're a vampire?"

★ "God I hope not." Shauna scoffed.

★ "Am I the only one that knows?"

★ "Yeah and I plan on keeping it that way."

★ You would've rolled your eyes at her, but you had to keep your eyes on the road, "With how reckless you've been acting, we'll be lucky if I'm the only one that knows for much longer." Shauna sighed and didn't say anything. You both knew it was true with how many close calls you guys barely dodged. You just wished you could help more.

★ It suddenly dawned on you that you totally could help more, but you knew Shauna wasn't going to be fond of your solution.

★ "Honestly, why don't you start feeding off me?"

★ "Hell no." Shauna responded sharply, "You know how that went last time."

★ "That only happened because you refuse to take care of yourself," You cut back, "The only reason why you tend to feel ravenous is because you wait too long. Small dosages off me every few days is the best of both worlds- you stay fed and I don't have to worry about murder charges."

★ Shauna was quiet, paying more attention to the streetlights flashing by than your suggestion, "Is that really our last option?"

★ "I guess not. You could try robbing hospitals but that will also land you in jail." you quipped back. Shauna audibly groaned.

★ "I just..." She frowned, talking quietly as if so much as speaking about the subject was a crime, "...what if I hurt you again?"

★ "I won't let that happen. I'll hex you or something, I dunno." Another groan. Tough crowd. "Are you scared you'll develop a taste only for my blood?"

★ "Kinda."

★ You were about to make a dumb quip about that being kinda hot but decided against it considering the seriousness of the current conversation. 

★ "If you have to drink my blood for the rest of my life so be it."

★ "Don't be stupid," Shauna scowled, "Eventually I'm going to-"

★ "-Would you quit pretending you're some monster and face the facts? I don't give a shit if it hurts, I'm going to help you survive. End of discussion."

★ Shauna was secretly grateful, but she'd never admit that. Instead rather, she was desperate to have the final say and she crossed her arms pretending to still be upset about it, "Fine."

★ The idea of being vampire prey indefinitely was scary, you couldn't deny that. But the idea of losing Shauna when you know you can help her is somehow scarier. She needed you, the both of you knew that. You just wished she would stop being so stubborn about it.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey so how about a little more old Predacon buddy with The transformers animated team possibly them just interacting with them a bit more

We are here for more Buddy interactions with Team Prime, and here is where we will get them!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon with Team Prime: Slice of Life

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA/TFP

When Buddy crashed back down in a familiar alley, they knew they were back in one of the dimensions they visited before.

Specifically, the universe where everything was tiny, and they nearly chewed out a knock off Prime for disrespecting Optimus.

Lucky for Buddy, they remembered the route back to the Plant and began walking.

They took in the scenery around them, noticing some buildings under reconstruction and new trash bots around the streets. Needed to be careful as to not step on them like last time.

As they approached the Plant Buddy decided to surprise the bots. They would wait on the side of the building where there weren’t many windows and surprise the first bot or human that came outside.

As they waited, they heard some angry voices bouncing around. They couldn’t hear what exactly was being said, but it wasn’t pretty.

They heard some angry footsteps coming towards the door.

Forgetting all about the surprise, Buddy went towards the front door to see what the commotion was all about.

Sari stomping towards the front garage door when a massive pede stops her.

The pede lowers down the giant body until the helm was touching the ground.

Buddy’s worried optics look at Sari.

“What’s going on in there?”--Buddy

Sari stared in shock.

“Buddy?”--Sari

Buddy squints before smiling.

“Sari? Is that you, kiddo? My, my I haven’t been gone that long, have I?”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”--Sari

Sari leaps and hugs Buddy snout.

Buddy just chuckles appreciating the hug.

“Sari? Sari where—Buddy!”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee races over to hug the older Predacon.

The rest of the team hears this and runs over to greet their interdimensional friend.

“My friends, its been too long. And look at you Sari!”--Buddy

Buddy carefully patting Sari’s hair with their digit.

“Your almost as old as some of the kids in my dimension. How log has it been since I’ve been here?”--Buddy

“Its been less than  year.”--Ratchet

“… Now I’m no expert in organic lifeform, but I know that humans do not age this fast.”--Buddy

“Oh! About that…”--Sari

Buddy raises an optic now sitting up a bit straighter.

“About what?”--Buddy

Sari deploys her jetpack and flies up to Buddy’s optic level.

Her eyes shining blue.

“It turns out I’m a techno organic. Surprise!”--Sari

“…”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Prowl

THUD!

“BY THE ALLSPARK!”--Optimus

“BUDDY?!”—Sari

“RATCHET GET THE CAR BATERY!”--Bumblebee

“BRING LIKE A DOZEN BATTERIES!”—Bulkhead

After Buddy recovered from the near cardiac arrest, Buddy got to know more about what happened during their time outside this universe.

Buddy is much more concerned with the team’s wellbeing.

As well as Sari’s flying skills.

The girl could hover well, but full flight was something different.

“Why don’t you teach me?”--Sari

“Me?”--Buddy

“I mean you can fly! You can totally teach me!”--Sari

“Well… I don’t see why not. All right then, I’ll teach you.”--Buddy

Sari does a little air fist pump.

“Oh and Optimus can come too.”--Sari

Buddy looked over at the Prime.

“Why?”--Buddy

“He’s got wings too!”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead pats Prime’s back and out shoots out two large wings.

“Bulkhead!”--Optimus

Optimus tries to get them back in.

Buddy just stares blankly at the Prime.

“You should have seen the first time he was trying to fly, Buddy! He nose dived into the river, crashed into that building… oh! And nearly flew straight into Omega Supreme!”--Bumblebee

“…”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Sari

THUD!

“BUDDY!”—Sari and Bumblebee

“NOT AGAIN!”—Ratchet

Once again after getting out of cardiac arrest, Buddy agrees to help the two learn how to fly.

Which was more difficult that either could have imagined.

With Sari…

“Sari, you have to start little by little. You don’t need to go full throttle—SWEET PRIMUS SLOW DOWN!”--Buddy

Buddy catching Sari mid air before she crashes into a billboard.

With Optimus…

Buddy flying near full speed trying to reach the mech fly out of the city ascending at a rapid pace.

“PRIME! YOU NEED TO DESCEND! TRY LOOSENING UP—NOT FULLY LOOSE!”--Buddy

Buddy dives down to catch the exhausted Prime.

“How… How did I do?”--Optimus

Buddy huffs as they slowly descend.

“…You need some extra practice Optimus. That’s all. No one gets this on the first try.”--Buddy

“Really? What about you?”--Optimus

“Prime I was modified to be like this, of course I got it on the first try. But that doesn’t mean everyone I taught ho to fly got it n the first try. Some of them are true rulers of the sky and they had bumps in the road. Don’t count yourself out yet Prime.”--Buddy

“…Thanks…”--Optimus

“You’re welcome Optimus. Now let’s take a break before trying again okay? We’ll go up when you're ready.”--Buddy

A couple days later the portal arrived just like the times before.

It was time to leave.

Buddy made sure to hug everyone goodbye before they left back home.

“Goodbye my friends!”--Buddy

“Bye Buddy!”—Team Prime

Buddy walks into the portal and appears near the main room.

“Hey Buddy!”--Raf

“Hello Raf.”--Buddy

“Dimension hoping again?”--Raf

Buddy nods.

Raf pats down next to him.

“I’ve got the dino movie on the monitor, you want to watch it with me?”--Raf

Buddy is already curling up next to Raf.

“You know me too well Raf.”--Buddy

[trashy-tries-writing]

Hii there's absolutely no pressure but I love your writing and thought: what about Ravine working with the 141 on a mission where drugs are related and they need to find them (or something of that sort, I'm no expert in military stuff) and they bring a k-9 with them that is known for being aggressive and attacking if not treated with utmost precision, only for it to warm up to Ravine and snuggle up to him even tho he's the scary and "mean" one?

Pictures: Cooper with Ravine VS Cooper with anyone else

Dear Anon, I love your magnificent brain for coming up with this scenario!!! And thank you so much!🤗 Also no worries I don’t know anything about the military either :’)) I hope I wrote this how you imagined, do let me know 🙌

Warning: Mentions of drugs, PTSD, amputation, transplant- Probably wrong military name usages and stuff. Maybe OOC?💧

Let me know if you want a part 2 of this, where they chase down the drugs with Cooper 😀

Drug mission with an aggressive K-9 who only turns putty for the "mean” Ravine. The boys are conflicted about who to feel jealous of- Cooper or Ravine, both who usually don't let themselves be touched.

Ravine, who just finished his massacre, was sent to 141’s base once their mission to get intel turned into a drug chase. Along with the confiscated information, they found a hidden stash of high class heroin on the boat, therefore they wanted the soldier to join them.

Laswell had tracked the owner later: Caro Edgar, a well known drug lord that has been long enough on the wanted list. Price decided it was time they get the man behind bars- or dead.

Someone from the DATR (Defence Animal Training Regiment) was delivering their best narcotic detection dog to the squad per Price’s request. Some of the boys were ecstatic to have a little furry friend with them…

Until the dog actually came into the base.

The K-9, Cooper was a menace to deal with.

He bared his fangs at the men in front of him once his cage was open. Gaz, who was excited to greet their four-legged friend, took a sudden step and Cooper was already in his face, mouth ajar to bite his head off, if it weren’t for the chain being pulled back by the dog handler.

Soap flinched back from the sudden hostility and that owned him a bunch of barkings while saliva flew from the K-9’s mouth.

Safe to say, both men backed off and used Ghost as a human shield. Said man glared at the canine, his shoulders tensed. Price on the other hand looked at the soldier with a questioned look, who lent them the aggressive canine.

“I apologize but he is the only one qualified with the mission, the others aren’t ready or already on duty.”

 For the past two days, they tried to get along with the aggressive K-9 but it wasn’t getting any better.

If they moved too fast, he barked.

Breathed wrong? He growled.

Too close and shifting wrong? Cooper jumped them if it weren’t for the chain stopping him. They had to fill his bowl and slide it over from a distance due to Ghost almost losing his hand the first time he tried to fill his plate.

Price was 100% certain that Soap was having nightmares of the dog ripping him to shreds while he slept. Gaz refused to come near the devil spawn and walked along the edge while pressing his back to the wall. His eyes never left the four-legged demon when he passed around it.

Ghost? He and Cooper had a glaring contest every single time the dog started barking and growling like a feral animal when they came across each other.

 On the third day, Ravine finally reached the base and the dog hadn't lessened his bullshit which made the Task Force slowly lose it. Cooper made noises throughout the night when he felt like they didn’t suffer enough trying to take care of him.

The dog trainer admitted that she was a little afraid of the Belgian Malinois herself. The previous owner died on the mission so the dog was passed down to her. Cooper was one of the best K-9 they had so they had to keep him even if he was being hostile to the other dogs. They had to separate him into solo training with a group of supervisors to get the K-9 under control.

They were all currently all out in the open, trying to make Cooper listen to their commands. They couldn’t keep waiting due to the risk of Caro Edgar shipping a whole warehouse of drugs underground.

“Steaming bloody Jesus!”

Soap jumps back, close to losing his footing when Cooper jumps up to meet the man face to face.

“This isn’t going anywhere! We need a new dog damn it!”

Price sighs and opens his mouth to agree but notices the collar ripping from the sideline.

“Get away from him, NOW!!”

*Snap*

Cooper wastes no time to attack, Gaz who he seems to be running to, screams in fear and throws his body to the side. Only to reveal Ravine appearing from behind him, the men panic at the soldier staring at the report in his hands.

“RAVINE DUCK!”

Their hearts skip a beat when the dog comes slamming down onto him from above. Papers flew through the air as Ravine couldn’t even finish registering what Ghost was screaming about until a blur of black and brown came into his sight.

They run towards the fallen soldier, expecting blood to pour from his shoulders or any part Cooper decided to bite into.

But Ravine laid on the ground unharmed with a hand holding the front legs and the other grabbing tightly on the dog’s mouth like a muzzle as he proceeded to get the K-9’s face further away from his.

“That was close. You good mate?” Soap warily inches closer but stops when Cooper starts growling again.

“Aye.”

Ravine sits on the dirt for a moment before casting the dog to the side. As if the squad felt the change in their newcomer, they huddled together on the sideline with the dog trainer holding a brand new collar in her hands.

Cooper shakes his fur, his fangs out, ready to pounce at the threat in front of him. Ravine on the other hand stood calmly on his feet, his height casting a shadow on the dog as it came flying towards him.

“Sit.”

The dog flinches at his voice, hesitates for a split second then prepares to pounce, his jaw open-

“Sit.”

What some humans didn’t know was the highly sensitivity of a dog to pheromones. Cooper feels it, the malice from the stranger standing before him seems to grow and expand to an immeasurable size, all pointed at him and him only. Cooper was lost inside, alone, hunted down like a prey. If he didn’t listen now- he knew he was actually going to perish.

So he sat down, lowering as far as his body allowed.

 Gaz glances between Ravine and the dog in worry. “He doesn’t actually think this is going to work, is it?” His hands feel sweaty as he wiped them down on his clothes, his eyes peeking at Ghost and Soap. “He wasn’t here to see how dangerous it is.”

“I don’t think he’s dumb to believe that.” replies L.T. with crossed arms, the thought of shooting the little menace crossing his mind if the mutt decided to take a bite out of him.

“Sit.”

They suddenly find themselves on the ground before they hear Price cackle loudly on the bench. Soap’s legs felt like jelly when Ravine ordered them- the dog with a tone he hadn’t heard him use before.

Ravine stared at the quartet on the ground and Price on the bench, curious what the Captain found so funny at him getting the dog to lay down. He might never know because they avoided looking into his general direction.

Soap laid on his back, his face in his palms, Gaz pushed his hat down to hide his expression and Ghost was lucky to have his mask on as he grabbed his arms while turning away, the dog trainer pushed her head into her knees that were pulled towards her chest.

And lucky Price, who was already sitting, continued to crack up towards the squad with the occasional whines being let out from Cooper in the background.

Ravine thought the Captain told a joke that made the others react so strongly and didn’t bother questioning it, to their relief. When everyone calmed their hearts, they mentally agreed to never talk about this situation ever again but they knew Price would never let them live this down.

 They decided the little demon was Ravine’s responsibility now.

And at first they were glad to not have to risk their limbs anymore.

Cooper listened to every word Ravine spoke and slowly throughout the day, the dog started to waddle around without having to be leashed although he would still snap at the other’s who weren't Ravine.

What started out as an aggressive attack dog, turned in half a day into a puppy longing for affection and attention.

 On the fourth day, 141 was slowly getting fed up.

At one point they were jealous that Ravine gets to be on the menaces' good side. He gets to ruffle the dogs fur, pet it while they get a face full of teeth and saliva. Along with Cooper sitting on his lap, his thighs making it look really cozy to touch, the K-9 performed tricks and wagged his tail like a love-sick puppy yearning for cuddles from the man.

As if the four-legged demon didn’t plan to give Gaz a nose transplant, a hand amputation for Ghost and PTSD for Soap.

Then they couldn’t approach Ravine without Cooper getting in between them.

They weren’t allowed to be near him and had to stay at least a good few feet away. They couldn’t even hand him things over without the damn dog scaring them, so Cooper could bring the stuff to Ravine like some newspaper.

At the meeting to track down Caro Edgar, Cooper decided to interrupt by going in between his legs and standing up to put his front legs on Ravine’s chest. He wouldn’t stop bouncing until his human put an arm around him, his hand laying on top of his head for scratchies.

Price’s content that Ravine was a help to get the dog under control. They couldn’t risk flunking the mission caused by a misbehaving K-9. He lets his eyes linger on the duo, a smile spreading on his lips when the faceless man doesn't repulse from the physical affection.

He wanted to go back to the report but noticed that no one was really paying attention anymore besides Ravine, who was looking at the documents on the desk.

Gaz is tempted to pull at its tail beneath the desk so the K-9 would stop bothering Ravine so much. He snaps his eyes away from it when Cooper looks directly at him. The menace threw his attention back to the man petting him when the smell of fear slowly radiated off of Gaz.

Beside Ravine sat Soap as he wondered if one day the slouching male would give him a hug too. For a while he stared at the demon disappearing and replaced by a puppy in Ravine’s embrace.

Ghost gawks at the mutt in irritation. He fed him and got his limp nearly bitten off and now the same mutt is squeezing his teammate’s chest like some paw toy. He knows that Cooper was given him side eyes and showing his sharp fangs to mock him. Ravine looks down to check on the K-9 and there it goes acting all innocent.

‘Cunt.’

 On the sixth day, the dog trainer already left while the team wanted to get the mission done and over with, so they could immediately return the K-9 back to her.

Soap’s mind wanders around until he thinks aloud, his eyes following the dog wagging his tail at the tall man trying to train in peace. He grimaces at it for stealing his chance to bond with Ravine all to itself.

“Do you think that brat sleeps in the same bed as him?”

“I’m sure it does-” Gaz sips loudly from his bottle, his eyes glaring down at Cooper when the K-9 gets to snuggle closer to his chest before being pushed to the side, “Look at it! The dog gets to hug him before I even get the chance for Ravine to let me touch his shoulder!”

“I don’t even get a high five from him.”

“Me neither.”

Both turn their heads towards Ghost, silently edging him to answer the question. He sighs under his breath. “Negative.”

They all turn back to watching their friend from afar, occasionally cursing the dog under their breaths when they see how physical Cooper was getting with the man who was known to back away from people who wanted to touch him.

Even Ghost wasn’t that stingy.

Hell breaks loose when Cooper starts to put his paws on the man’s ass.

“ThaT’S IT-”

“Wait Soap, don’t dO THAT-!”

“JOHNNY DON’T-”

Terrified screams could be heard through the base along with a string of curses and a dog’s vicious barking. It ended with Ravine ordering Cooper to back off from his friends with a slight edge to his voice which scared the dog into laying on the ground shamefully.

On the other hand Gaz and Soap grin victoriously and pull faces at the dog behind the safety of the soldier’s back. Ghost silently curses the mutt for acting inappropriately while Price is hiding in the back, recording the whole situation to send to some people.

[threepandas]

The Vod's List: Part 2

You know the worst part about the Republic standard hazard mask? No, not the "for dealing WITH hazardous materials" one. The "your species can be fully or partially CONSIDERED one, so to interact with the rest of polite society you gotta wear protection so we don't DIE" one. THAT hazard mask. From the set.

Yeah, you the worst part about THAT mask?

It's like someone really, REALLY high up in power DELIBERATELY made the who set as... well, for lack of a better term? Slave-like and uncomfortable as possible. As humiliating as possible. Like they WANTED the people who had to wear it, to suffer and be upset. And like? I KNOW it's probably just some really REALLY out of touch politician? Who's never had to WEAR one of these kriffing things in their karking LIFE?

But come ON! It looks and feels like a MUZZLE.

A BADLY FITTED ONE at that! Like? And don't ask me how I KNOW this? Because the holonet is deep and filled with weird wondrous horrors? Buuuuut... according to CERTAIN individuals. Who HAVE reviewed a VARIETY of muzzles for... personal reasons? And Bones bless! No judgment! According to certain Unnamed Experts of The Field, as it were?

.......these masks kriffing SUCK nifflestones.

Padding is shit. Airflow it terrible. Not customized for individual races AT ALL. Just? Mouth a "hazard"? Cover it. Who CARES if that means the individual kriffing suffocates. Or karking near DROWNS on their own threat or stress response. To say NOTHING of those who have to routinely either use their mouth's "hazard" or have it TRIGGERED by something pressing AGAINST their jaw!

It's a genuinely terrible design! Almost deliberately so. Keeps a lot of people from ever even bothering from leaving their planet's.

Why do I bring this up? Because working at the senate building is stressful. Dealing with sleemo plasbone's who like to shove me around cause I'm in a glorified MUZZLE is stressful. Knowing I recently infected an innocent man is KARKING STRESSFUL!

And you know what the Techganic response to STRESS is?!

Drool and STRESS BITING.

My ENTIRE fucking BLOODLINE was literally genetically ENGINEERED to fight in a FUCKING HOLY WAR! With BIOLOGICAL WARFARE. We BITE! We bite A LOT!! We are, in fact, SUPPOSED to bite! It's like the unsacred, technological abomination child of those ancient human tales of the "zombie" and the "ber-serker"!

Stress? Stress means we are in battle. Being attacked. Threatened. Stress means ATTACK. Bite and bite and BITE. Thanks the Bones and Blood, I've never been THAT stresssed. I even had to take a test for it! Anyone with a hair trigger is NOT allowed off planet. I'm considered absurdly calm. Chill.

Doesn't mean I WON'T.

Just that it would take A LOT.

But the drool? THAT is involuntary. Is the prelude you can't escape. The means of SPREAD. Of WARRING against the machines. Organic nanite against technological nanites. Host against host. Spread against spread. Ours was a story of PLAUGES. And it left no unchanged survivors.

I get that. I DO. The horrors of our history, the fear and terrors. The resistance forces who wanted no part in the war. Who tried to escape.

What happened to them.

I REALIZE that... that a single Techganic dropped on pretty much any planet can start a nanite plague that can't be stopped. That the more stressed we get, the more our instincts demand we Spread Ourselfs. The water, the soil, the air. Yeah, we can get DANGEROUS.

But we aren't ANIMALS.

We are not who we used to BE. WHAT we used to be. Show me the planet without blood in its past and I will show you a planet that has wiped its past away.

Which is all well and good...but...

I'M FUCKING DROWNING.

These karking hazard masks are so, SO stupid and I'm trying not to panic. My hands shaking. Because if I panic? I will be stressed. If I am kriff KARKING STRESSED, I will drool FASTER. And there is no room. My karking mask is FULL OF LIQUID AND NOT DRAINING FAST ENOUGH.

I struggle with the latches. They are wet. Because my hands are wet. My neck is wet. EVERYTHING IS WET. The mask doesn't even WORK to contain the "hazard"! My hands can't get a grip on the latches. My lungs are burning for air but I can't... if I try to breath now... I'll just get... just get!

I'm in a side hall.

Would anyone even find me? Oh Stars. I'm going to drown.

Except not. Quick heavy steps down the hallway. Two gaurds spot me after turning a corner, break into a sprint. Once again the Coruscant gaurds are a beacon of calm in my darkest moment. One gently pulling my frantic hands away from my mask so the other can quickly work out how to unlock it.

With a gush, air finally hits my face as the mask unlocks and begins to be pulled away. I sputter. Cough. I think I may be weeping. The hallways is spinning as air finally rushs back in. My front is DRENCHED and I hate it. It's so gross. There was nothing I could DO and I felt like an animal. Feel like a mess.

Every drop of it is deadly. The whole hallway will have to be deep cleaned.

Am I apologizing? I think I'm apologizing.

The gaurds are so nice. Talking in low, reassuring voices as the stay with me. They called a medic. Ask me about my hobbies to distract me. A playful argument on how to "properly" take your Caf. Which local diner is the best.

I am gently bundled off by the medic, once he arrives. Another of the Guard thank Stars. The Senatorial medical team are so... judge-y. The Guard's medical is patient and professional, though the only thing he can offer me to change into is the blacks that the gaurd wear under their armor.

Tell NO ONE... but I feel kinda cool. Look at me~ I'm all holo thriller and mysterious in these. I get to KEEP them too!

Not getting the mask back though.

It nearly killed me. That and my asshole coworker who deliberately stressed me out earlier. He... the Guard ARRESTED him. And... look, I KNOW I shouldn't smile. I shouldn't. His life is probably ruined. But... but the sleemo harrased EVERYBODY. Anybody he thought he could abuse? He DID.

Looks like he finally went too far.

I lay back. Not allowed to lean until the medic is SURE there is no secondary drowning symptoms. I grab the shirt that turned out to be just a touch too small and fold it up, drape it over my eyes. It blocks out the light pretty well. I get comfortable.

As I drift off... I'm unaware that the Vod around me stop bothering to pretend the AREN'T blatantly watching me. That the normally sparsely populated medicenter ISNT damn near full of every Vod not currently on duty. The cheif medical officer himself, carefully collecting what he can from my mask.

A dense crowd of eyes slowly run over black clad limbs.

Looking to THEM. Trusting THEM. Threatened, in need of back up. Look how TIRED she was. How vulnerable. Wearing part their uniform. Like a lover, having stolen their clothes.

She trusted them above the natborns. PREFERRED them.

Thoughts began to stir... they wonder...

[just-prime]

I'm not sure if you've been watching The Acolyte, but my critically high levels of sodium over the Ahsoka series have returned with the revelation that Rosario must have fought Lucasfilm over fight/lightsaber training stipulating in her contract.

Manny Jacinto, who came to the role with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do trained for four months for his fight scenes before filming. Rosario repeatedly said in interviews that she trained for two hours a day while filming, and it was clear that she thought this was a lot.

I tried to write it off last year. Budget and time constraints, George Lucas overspent and Disney is doing things differently, the prequel era is dead-

No.

No, this is not the case.

Prequel era love and care in the arena of bringing characters who are expert sword wielders and martial artists to life is alive and well at Lucasfilm.

Daphne Keen fights like Ahsoka plucked from the middle of the Clone Wars and brought to life. Dean Charles Chapman's saberwork is a beautiful hybrid of Obi-wan and Anakin with lightning fast, graceful Soresu and saber spins, lightsabers are deadly once more and used in ways we haven't seen outside of animation and video games, and characters far, far older than 11 ABY Ahsoka have kinetic, energetic choreography because a 42 year old Jedi is nowhere near over the hill, and I'm done with being gaslit about her age.

There are many issues with this show, yes, but there are no cameos (save for one blink and you miss it), no name dropping to make the audience tear up and feel something based on the hard work of previous content. Nuggets are plucked from the EU and made fresh, like the delightful and creative use of cortosis. New force worshipping sects with their own beliefs are brought to life without being the Nightsisters. The galaxy feels large again.

It's everything Ahsoka wasn't and shows just how soulless an effort that show was. Ironically this is the show that's getting raked over the coals while nearly all criticism of Ahsoka was met with dismissal despite the show being desperately mediocre.

If you had asked me to go in without behind the scenes knowledge and tell you if Filoni or Headland was the one new to Star Wars and who was approaching this effort with genuine love of the material and passion for world building and adventure, it wouldn't be the guy who was recently made Creative Director.

I'm sorry for once again paragliding into your inbox (yes, this is the salty anon from last summer lol), especially if you aren't interested in The Acolyte, but it just sheds so much light on everything wrong with Ahsoka and how valid our criticisms were. Salt doesn't have an expiration date, so I hope this is a little bit of vindication!

Hello, hello! Hang up your paraglider, you're always welcome in my ask box.

I have been watching the Acolyte! I'll admit, I saved off answering this until the final ep had come out so that if there were any more cool fight scenes, they were not missed in my response.

Thoughts I had Pre Finale

All in all I agree completely.

While flawed (personally I feel like the acting on Osha and Mea is the weakest part of the show as a whole, as well as the fact that this very much felt like a movie idea stretched into a tv show) the Acolyte has been legions better than the previous slop that Disney Star Wars has put out recently. You know why? Because I had fucking fun watching it. Sure, afterwards I'd usually say something along the lines of 'wow the pacing is a bit weird' but all in all? Actively enjoyable. It never made me angrily close the D+ tab mid episode.

It's also been a facinating litmus test for what people are able to be chill about Star Wars and which ones are not able to handle it. The amount of reviewers and reactors whom I previously had massive respect for who just are acting like utter tools is really getting on my nerves.

Because in sooooo many ways this has been exactly what people have been asking for. A new perspective, with new ideas that isn't just focused on the Skywalker saga. And on top of that, holy fuck the fights are glorious. You are absolutely right, both Dafne Keen's and Tommon's fights prove just how well you can have lightsaber skills look from a single person, as well as the Wookie fight showing off some truly impressive choreo between the three.

And then you have Manny Jacinto...hello ARMS

The man is by far the standout joy of the series (followed closely by Sol) as the man just oozes charisma. His big fight against everyone was brutal and I'm glad to see that lightsabers are once again deadly in the Star Wars universe. Watching him mow through a legion of Jedi was so incredibly satisfying to watch, and again he is just knocking it out of the park with the choreo. LOVE the way that they've introduced cortosis into live action, especially in a fighting style. Headbutting a lightsaber was fucking amazing to witness. Though it's actually not the first time that it's appeared in Canon star wars, as it appears in the second canon Thrawn book, Thrawn : Alliances!

The exploration of the Dark Side is being done in such an interesting way, because none of the practitioners we've seen would self identify as 'dark side users' at all. Because sure, you have Manny Jacinto who is out being evil because the Jedi were going to label him as dark side either way so he might as well defend himself, for him it's just the way he connects with the Force. But you also have the witches, who's mind infiltration is certainly Dark Side, but are just out here living their best witchy lives. They live by their Thread, regardless of what the Jedi would call it.

As always, also the "the jedi need to be the coolest and the morally purest people in the whole wide world" people are having hissy fits, which is just like...no? Stop being allergic to nuance? We've seen time and time again how the Jedi were in fact a child taking cult (yes, yes they are, if you disagree i'd recommend going and rewatching TPM which spells it out pretty clearly) usually we've just been on the Jedi's POV so it seems justified. The Sol flashback episode I think shows off this mentality very well. He had good intentions, sure, but all in all, he wants to take and even Trinity calls him on it. It's a fascinating examination of what decades later would lead Anakin down a path of desperation.

Speaking of Anakin...People getting suuuuuper protective over Anakin's super special status as 'the chosen one' was also rather surreal to witness. Personally, I don't see how this invalidates his 'the chosen one' in the first place? But people were definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel for things to complain about, as opposed to offering actually constructive criticism, of which there are plenty of options.

Thoughts I had Post Finale

All in all, nothing really changed for me, as usual, the pacing was absolutely fucked and the action was absolutely incredible, and in the end, I enjoyed the experience of watching it.

I certainly appreciate seeing more of the Jedi actively covering shit up, both in little ways as well in big ways.

Also *waves* Hi Plagueis!

My main little gripe

I really don't get why they needed to actively tie Mr. Darth Hotpants over here to Venesta specifically? I get the want to connect him to an established character, it just rang a little hollow for me. I think I'd have preferred it if he was just a rando youngling who never even got to being a Padawan cuz the Jedi kept trying to basically de-dark side him ala grade schools punishing for being left handed. Donno, I just think that would have been a bit more compelling.

My main BIG gripe

Why...THE FUCK...did they split up??? They burned waaaay more time having their little heart to heart then had it been all three of them fucking booking it to the ship. I just don't get it. I don't get why Mae or Osha would want to leave each other again, and I don't get why Manny Jacinto would willingly give up an additional fighter. I get the whole "There can only be two" bit, but A) Plagueis is already there on the island, so Osha makes it three and B) Osha's probably going to be more motivated with a little living reminder of the Jedi's lies being right there and present and C) Osha and Mae are both so fucking powerful why would anyone just let one half of the pair walk away????

It just didn't fit with any of the character's previous actions so it annoys me.

Kinda ended as I began, relatively neutral on it all. Think if pressed would give it a 7/10 just because the action was SO FUCKING GOOD, otherwise it would probably be lower due to the rather painful pacing issues and the meh acting on display from Amandla Stenberg which was just such a huge shame cuz I know she's got more range than this.

Mainly, I just really really hope future shows take from this just how good lightsaber combat can be when you have properly trained performers. THIS should be the standards, and it's painful that its not.

As always thank you for dropping into my ask box! You always give me so much to work with it's a joy to respond :D

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Footage reveals 'miracle eagle chick' in flight

“In an unprecedented display of extended eagle parenting, the two white-tailed parents skipped this year's breeding season to continue to tend to their year-old offspring. The youngster's wing was broken when the nest fell to the ground during unseasonably wild weather last year. […] The fully-grown chick was being fed fish by its parents, caring behaviour that the eagle expert described as “unprecedented” for the birds. […] “If an immature bird was to reappear near its nesting parents or any other pair the following year [after dispersing], it would likely be aggressively chased away. That’s why this is so exceptional.””

2. Rare wild horses back on Kazakhstan’s Golden Steppe after being saved from extinction

“For the first time in at least 200 years, wild Przewalski's horses have returned to Kazakhstan’s Golden Steppe. [...] Przewalski's horses are considered the last truly wild horse left on the planet as other species like the American Mustang are descended from domesticated animals. The species were once common across the vast steppes of Central Asia. [...] The zoo will also be sending some Przewalski’s to Mongolia in 2026 where a reintroduction programme has seen their population boom to well over 850 animals.”

3. For one Austin summer camp, public transit is part of the adventure

“[... “O]ver 90% of the kids will tell you that their favorite part of ATX Kids Club is riding the bus.” That’s the program’s goal: getting kids to have fun on public transit so they’ll grow up using it. The nonprofit’s summer camp, which takes kids ages 4 to 12 on field trip “adventures” around the city, uses Capital Metro buses as its main form of transportation. [...] Before camp, [the field trip leader] said, he believed in stereotypes about transit being dirty and “scary” — but his experience with Austin’s bus system has been the opposite so far.”

4. Brazil Prevents Meta from Using People to Power Its AI

“[…P]ersonal photos of Brazilian children are used to build powerful AI tools without their knowledge or consent. In turn, others use these tools to create malicious deepfakes, putting even more children at risk of harm. […] The Brazilian government’s decision is a powerful, proactive move to protect people’s data privacy in the face of swiftly evolving uses and misuses of AI. Yesterday’s action especially helps to protect children from worrying that their personal data, shared with friends and family on Meta’s platforms, might be used to harm them in ways that are impossible to anticipate or guard against.”

5. Ambitious Living Shoreline Project Combats Coastal Land Loss in South Carolina

“Living shorelines stabilize coastlines by reducing the impacts of waves and rising sea levels. They are made of materials that promote the growth of marsh grasses and commercially important species like oysters and crabs. […C]oastal sites could offset almost 80 percent of tidal habitat loss with careful conservation and management. […] Young people in this AmeriCorps program receive training, a living stipend, an education award, and connections to potential employers.”

6. Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge announces proposal to modernize water infrastructure

“Under the refuge’s proposal, the Service would improve 4,400 feet of an earthen water delivery ditch, rehabilitate 1,200 feet of Upper Lake Dam, develop 100 feet of new diversion channel into critical nesting habit for federally endangered southwestern willow flycatcher, modernize current water monitoring stations and improve 640 feet of the Pahranagat Ditch Drain. […] The improvements will result in significant habitat improvements for multiple bird species, [… and] also enhance flood control holding capabilities of the Upper Lake for the Pahranagat Valley.”

7. New chemical process separates textile fibers for easier recycling

“A combined team of chemical and biomolecular engineers [... have] developed a way to chemically separate fibers in textiles, allowing them to be recycled more quickly and cheaply than conventional methods. [... T]hey found they could break apart the textiles in as little as 15 minutes. They also noted that the process [breaks down polyester and spandex into] organic compound[s] that could conceivably be used to create more polyester. [... T]he material integrity of both the nylon and the cotton were retained, suggesting they could be used to make new batches of clothes.”

8. Pongamia trees grow where citrus once flourished, offering renewable energy and plant-based protein

“[Some Floridian] farmers are turning to the pongamia tree, a climate-resilient tree with the potential to produce plant-based proteins and a sustainable biofuel. […] Pongamia trees also don't need fertilizer or pesticides. They flourish in drought or rainy conditions. And they don't require teams of workers to pick the beans. […] The legume is now being used to produce several products, including Panova table oil, Kona protein bars and protein flour. The legumes also produce oil that can be used as a biofuel, largely for aviation, which leaves a very low carbon footprint[….]”

9. Trans candidate celebrates receiving more votes than anti-trans campaigner Posie Parker

“An independent trans candidate says that she hopes receiving more total votes than anti-trans campaigner Posie Parker at the general election will show trans children that they are loved. […] Bristol Central was won by Green Party’s out bisexual co-leader Carla Denyer, while Parker received just 196 votes, equal to 0.5 per cent[….] Elsewhere, trans candidate Sophie Molly secured 225 votes standing as an independent at the other end of the country, in Aberdeen South[….]”

10. Ohio zoo celebrates birth of critically endangered western lowland gorilla

“The Columbus Zoo said the gorilla was born June 29 and first-time mother Sue is "very attentive and providing excellent care to her little one, who she nuzzles and cradles closely." […] “With tiny hands and beautiful big brown eyes that melt our hearts, this baby is absolutely precious—in regard to both the cuteness factor and what the baby represents for this species’ future. We are proud of the dedication of our care teams who diligently work to provide the gorillas with top quality care and wellbeing while continuing the legacy of the Columbus Zoo’s renowned gorilla program,” said Audra Meinelt, curator of the Columbus Zoo’s Congo Expedition region.”

June 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[dragon-communion]

Considering one of the very glaring issues about Omens is excessive, debilitating horn growth that cannot be removed without extreme agony and blood loss despite everything perfumers can throw at them… I wonder if it’s possible to at least do mitigation work on horns by trying to “train” their growth like bonsai trees with wired guiding and tension. Like I cannot find this technique being applied to natural horned animals, since I don’t know of any that have quite the same issue as Omens, but in theory it might be able to avoid incidents like Mohg’s eye getting gouged out.

What’re your thoughts on it?

Oh you have unlocked Pandora's Box hon. When I was a kid I hyperfixated on unicorns, and because I was a strange kid I hyperfixated on unicorn scams. Also I grew up near an ungodly amount of cows. While I am certainly not an expert on horns, I know enough about them to say:

calves can be chemically dehorned

modifications like any of the following are best started young

horn weights are used in real life to encourage the curvature of horns

filing is another fairly easy technique, involving filing one side of the horn a bit to encourage it to grow that direction

other suggestions I've seen include tying the horns or housing the cow in a particularly small stall so the horns are bumped often

On young cattle, the horns actually start as little buds detached from the skull like so:

And as they age, they grow in and connect like this:

Even young cattle can still be dehorned entirely, but after... two years, or thereabouts, it becomes pretty risky. I'm pretty sure you can take an inch or two off the top of an adult cow with no problems, but don't quote me on that.

Chemical dehorning is basically like when they chemically freeze off a wart at the doctor. Kill that entire section of skin, let it scab off, no more horn. Best done very young.

I'm mostly using cattle as an example because I know of cases where a horn just curled around and tried to impale the poor thing's own head, and also you're probably only going to find horn training in domesticated horned animals anyway. I'd be curious if anyone does this to goats, but my guess is goats do what they want regardless of man or god.

So! In summation, particularly for Mohg, I think it would've been extremely possible to train his horn away from self-mutilation. By the time he was old enough for it to be a problem, though, he was likely already in the Shunning Grounds and I hear the healthcare down there is piss poor.

While there are goats in Elden Ring there is a distinct lack of cattle, and given the stigma against horns in general I really have to wonder if anyone knows how to take care of them? Maybe the Crucible Knights, but if they do they aren't talking.

As a side note: remember when I mentioned unicorn scams? If I'm remembering my facts right, it's possible to move the horn buds while an animal is still young to the center of their forehead, so it'll grow there instead. Considering one can only hope that omens are born with soft little buds instead of horns, it would theoretically be possible to alter the placement of horns too, in addition to removing them entirely.

[marlynnofmany]

Double Duty

It’s a rare day when I have to squint at the sight of a house, but this one was shiny. A giant ball woven out of the brightest metal wires I’d seen in a while, all gold and copper in complex patterns. It made my head hurt to look at. Probably imitation metals, because surely that would be impractical and expensive to use actual gold. But what did I know? Not my species.

I squinted as I walked up with the package, wondering if that was rude of me. My little human eyes probably always looked like I was squinting though, compared to the big bug eyes of the Mesmer who lived there.

And the one walking beside me. Zhee was nodding quietly to himself while he took in the sight, with his vibrant purple praying-mantis exoskeleton looking right at home. If I hadn’t known that one of his people lived here, somehow I feel like I would have guessed. It was flashy in the extreme.

And so was the walkway, a glittering stripe of vivid red that curved through a garden full of alien flowers that probably didn’t bite. I didn’t like the looks of the local butterfly analogues, though; they had stingers I could see from here. I was glad they were keeping their distance.

Zhee reached the door first — a solid slab of bronze with an inlaid galaxy of gemstones, naturally — and he found the doorbell while I ducked under another butterfly. The chime was a brief melody from an instrument I couldn’t identify. It sounded like a violin invented by people whose earliest music was made by rubbing their legs together.

The door pulled inward and slid to the side, showcasing the homeowner who must have been waiting right there for us. Up close, the side of the house had window space visible between the weave, ideal for peeking out but not being seen until you were ready for your close-up.

“Good greetings!” announced the Mesmer woman who towered over both of us, a spectacle of metallic rose-gold coloring. Surely that couldn’t be natural. I’d never seen a Mesmer yet with metal tones; this had to be like full-body nail polish. But I sure as heck wasn’t about to say a peep about it now. I’d ask Zhee later.

“Greetings,” Zhee returned, urging me forward. “Your package.”

I handed it over, wondering if I’d get to see how the thing opened. It was one of the plastic puzzle box dealies that had been a popular way to ship valuables lately. There was one button on top and no visible seams.

Even with that thought, I was surprised when she grabbed it with her pincher arms, kicked a side table into view with one leg, then set it down and tapped out a rhythm on the button. The box split open to dramatically reveal the custom stained-glass lamp that we’d delivered in perfect condition, thankyouverymuch.

“Exquisite,” she said, holding it up to let the light shine through all the aquas and teals. “Just what the blue room needs.” She looked at us. “I have one of each color, you know.”

Zhee nodded like that was normal and admirable. “Excellent.” He held out the electronic payment pad without being so gauche as to mention it out loud, and the customer chattered away about her house as she set down the lamp and paid.

“…The yellow room was the biggest hassle, of course, but I’m most pleased with the rainbow room. I have art, rare plants and a few select exotic animals in there. Those have been a different type of challenge, especially the new one.”

That caught my attention. As I was wondering how best to ask what kind of animals she kept, Zhee beat me to it.

“Animals, you say?” He gestured theatrically toward me. “Robin is an expert in animal care, if you need a consult.”

I turned my head to stare at him with my best what-did-you-just-volunteer-me-for expression, which he could certainly see, given those eyes’ range of vision. He didn’t react.

“I would appreciate a look, now that you mention it,” the large alien said. “My prize oil-slick tentacle has stopped eating, and has begun shaking in a strange way when I get near.”

Zhee immediately haggled for a consultation fee while I wracked my brain for any knowledge of this alien whatsit. I was going to have words with Zhee afterward.

But apparently I was going to look at this thing first. The customer agreed to the price, payable afterward, and led us both into the house. It was just as multicolored as expected. Like each room had been given to a different child to design, with the instructions to use as many expensive jewel tones as possible.

The rainbow room was actually a relief, surprisingly enough. There were darker accents to make the furniture and murals stand out. And the various terrariums were clear glass. I looked between feathers and shells and flowers for anything that could be described as a tentacle.

“It’s over here,” she said, leading me toward a glass case under a spotlight. “I haven’t had it very long, but it was eating before, and I just don’t know why. The medi-scanner says it’s not ill. Perhaps I need a new scanner. What do you think?”

Feeling like the spotlight was aimed directly at me, I stepped up for a look at the thing curled up in the corner. It was, as expected, iridescent like an oil slick. But those scales were familiar.

I moved around it to get a look at the head, then smiled and stood up straight. “That’s a sunbeam snake! My favorite kind!”

“Okay, but what’s wrong with it?” the alien woman asked. “When I give it food, it hisses at me and shudders!” She waggled a pincher arm in imitation.

“It’s trying to scare you away,” I said. “They shake their tails like rattlesnakes do, though they don’t have rattles or venom.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that,” she said with a huff. “Why is it doing that? I’ve been more than kind to it!”

“I’m afraid you’ve given it nowhere to hide,” I explained gently, spreading my hands at the tank with a black floor and only a small water dish in the center. Little blobs of meat littered the area. Images of plants had been painted into the corners, but that did less than nothing to help a burrowing animal. “This type of snake needs several inches of plant life or loose soil to dig into. For one this size, I’d say at least this deep.” I held my hands six inches apart.

“It digs?” the customer asked. “They didn’t tell me that!”

“It spends most of its time hidden,” I said. “Or at least, it’s meant to. This one is extremely stressed by being out in the open like this.”

I was a little worried how she’d take the news, given that this was her prize specimen with all the lights aimed to showcase its rainbow scales. But to her credit, she listened while I suggested framing a good photo of the snake outside the tank, then only watching it during mealtime. Any visiting friends could be told how exotic and special the animal was, and how lucky they would be to even catch a glimpse of it.

“Yes,” she said, clearly thinking. “Yes, I can work with that. I’ll arrange for the adjustments to the enclosure. You said this much ground cover?” She held her pincher arms apart.

“Right, at least that much,” I agreed. “Ideally you’ll also want to bury a few things for enrichment, like rocks and bark and sections of tubing, and have a couple of those on the surface for it to hide under when it comes up for food.”

We ended up going into a different room where she could take notes, which did more to put me at ease about the snake’s future care. I waved at it as I left, wishing it well. I’d always liked sunbeams. Good thing I remembered the specifics of their care needs.

“You’ll also want a bigger water dish, so it can slither through it,” I said. “And the tank should be both warm and very humid…”

The customer took lots of notes while Zhee alternated between standing there looking smug and casting an appraising eye at the room’s gaudy features. This was the purple room, and he blended right in.

Finally we’d covered all the important points. Zhee tactfully brought out the payment pad again, then we strolled back to the front door.

“I will recommend your service to all of my friends,” the customer said as she closed up the lamp case. “Quality parcel delivery, with bonus animal care! That is hard to beat.”

“My pleasure,” I said honestly.

Zhee thanked her as well, and we exited into the garden. Zhee was still looking smug as the door closed behind us. “I am very glad I spoke up.”

I shook my head with a rueful smile. “I’m glad it was an animal I’m actually familiar with, not some independently crawling tentacle.”

“Those do exist, you know.”

I let out a deep sigh. “Of course they do. Guess I’d better do some research in case she does tell all her friends.”

Zhee strode forward with pride. “It will be good business! Captain Sunlight will be pleased.”

“It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure.” I thought of the crewmates who had tentacles of their own. “Mur will probably think it’s funny.”

“Oh, he’ll think it’s terrifying. The mobile tentacles are from his planet; they’re a venomous parasite.”

“Of course they are. Remind me to bring gloves on our next delivery, just in case.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[mirpuzzle]

Hi! Could I hear some of your thoughts/HCs about Bonz, Sid and Zygor's personalities? I want to add them to my Sims 4 save, but I'm having trouble choosing their traits, and you seem to be the expert on these cornflakes, :]

Hi! 🌸 Sorry for the wait. It'll be my pleasure to ramble about Kotsuzuka and his friends ❤️ This will be a long post.

-------------------

Shared traits

✦ Kotsuzuka and his friends can be naive and trusting. This can sometimes cloud their judgment and common sense.

Yes, dear. Trapping someone and his friends in a cave, leaving them to die just because you lost a duel to him is indeed too much. I'm glad you figured that out 👍

✦ They have a strong sense of camaraderie, so betraying their loyalty will cause them to hold a grudge against you.

Kotsuzuka | Bonz 👻

✦ Ghost-boy is impulsive. Even though I think their gang-like friend group has no leader, I imagine Kotsuzuka's impulsiveness often drags Takaido and Satake into stuff. And they go along with it. Because it's fun.

✦ Kotsuzuka is a playful little guy. He loves scaring people, but only when it's intentional. Scaring someone by accident might make him feel bad, like that time in Duel Links when a girl mistook him for a ghost and ran away when he tried to duel her, and he was later accused of stealing her card. Poor little thing T_T

✦ He's self-conscious about his appearance, even if he tries to play it off. Mean comments can offend him 😞

✦ He's very expressive and has no problem showing his emotions. OR, has trouble hiding them.

✦ The way he questioned Keith's instructions during his duel against Jonouchi | Joey tells me he's true to himself and usually doesn't keep quiet when something doesn't feel right.

✦ He can be dependent, especially on someone he looks up to.

✦ There's a major difference between manga and anime (Battle City arc), which translates into Kotsuzuka having opposite changes in his character development:

In the anime, he and his friends want to prove they can go to the tournament's finals by themselves (partially out of spite), even if that means resorting to dirty tricks and stealing other duelists' Puzzle | Locator Cards.

In the manga, Kotsuzuka is alone and seems to be dueling fairly. This, combined with what we know from Duel Links (which is based on the manga) and other games, we can tell he's not a bad guy. He no longer needs to follow Keith's orders or resort to cheating. He wants to prove he can be a good duelist without Keith's help. Of course, this doesn't stop him from mainly taking on opponents he deems weak.

✦ Other random headcanons I made up: . Kotsuzuka is a goth and no one will convince me otherwise. . He specifically styles his hair like that to look scarier. . He doesn't have eyebrows. However, that doesn't stop me from giving him eyebrows when I draw him. He paints them with makeup. That's why I color them black.

Takaido | Sid 🔥

✦ Matching his apparent fire theme, Takaido seems to have an explosive personality. I don't know if this translates into him possibly having a short temper, but, having a serious argument with him, or making him really upset doesn't sound like it'd go well. He's prone to snap and yell.

✦ Remember when he stopped Honda | Tristan by throwing a bead at him, in the dark? He has good eyesight/aim, so watch out if he throws things at you.

✦ Takaido isn't the type to get into a group fight directly. He's more likely to back his friends up from afar if he can. He also doesn't have a problem with provoking others… as long as whoever he's provoking doesn't pose a threat.

✦ I've noticed he talks less than his friends. However, when he does, he makes it count. He knows what to say.

✦ Takaido can be a bit of a coward. The way he abandoned his friends when Kotsuzuka's duel with Yami Bakura was nearing its end, or the way he stood frozen in fear (in the manga) as Keith punished Kotsuzuka FOR FOLLOWING HIS INSTRUCTIONS could mean he doesn't handle fear/panic well.

✦ The way he dresses makes me think he cares about his appearance and spends some time choosing an outfit that makes him look good.

*fangirls_screaming.mp3*

✦ Other random headcanons I made up: . Takaido likes spicy food and warm weather. . He hates cold.

Satake | Zygor ⚡

✦ Satake is a tough guy. Not only physically but emotionally as well. Out of the three of them, Satake is the only one who's never cried during the time they've been on screen, not even at the end of the duel against Yami Bakura. Perhaps life has taught him to toughen up, and he either doesn't cry anymore, or it would take A LOT to make him cry.

✦ In the manga, when Keith lost it and punished Kotsuzuka FOR DOING EXACTLY AS HE SAID (yes, I'm still mad), Satake looked at them in horror as if he was about to say "Oi, Aniki, that's enough!" but couldn't react out of shock. This is why he strikes me as a protective friend.

✦ He's very supportive. You can count on him to cheer for you, comfort, reassure you, or keep you sane. Or to beat someone up for you.

✦ He's good with heavy work and often relies on physical strength. It's like his first instinct is to fight or attack things, probably to look intimidating. However, I haven't seen him raise a hand against any of his friends even once. This aggressive behavior must be aimed at strangers and enemies.

✦ Other random headcanons I made up: . I don't know why but I think he would be good at babysitting kids. That doesn't mean he would be a good influence, though. . Contrary to his intimidating appearance and attitude, he's fond of little animals. They evoke that protective nature that's characteristic of him. . He likes storms. He thinks tornadoes are cool (not up close, of course).

Thank you for the ask! I hope any of this helps. If anyone else would like to add their thoughts/headcanons, feel free to do so ♥

[whosavailable]

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[khaleesiofalicante]

Dani, aren’t you afraid of walking alone in places so open and with few people?

I don't know if it's because I come from a country very dangerous and high on assaults, especially against women, but I'm terrified all the time.

When I was in Italy last month, I got a very bad experience. I was walking through this small harbor, and had found a perfect place to sit and read a book and just... be. I wanted that really badly. I could see and hear and smell the sea. It was perfect. But as soon as I started walking towards a bench, two guys catcalled me. I ignored them and they started following me. I made a detour and stopped beside some guys that were fishing. They stopped a few steps back and kept waiting. I hated that I had to be near another group of men so those assholes would leave me be. After some time they gave up and continued walking, and I had to run in the other direction to feel safe again. I went back to my hotel room and stayed there.

I am so sorry you had to experience that.

This is the third time i've heard about sexual harassment/cat calling in italy and i am concerned because i really want to go there...

I am usually a little careful about going to open/remote places in my own country (because i know too much about the gender based violence there sigh) but when i travel, i am often not afraid.

I have to say, almost a month in paris (and crotia ofc) and not a single incident of cat calling or harassment. The men are so fucking polite here wtf. it's all "excuse me madam" and "bonjor madam" and i am like stop dkjcnks...like the literally the first man i met in paris helped me carry my 25kg suitcase up four flights of stairs god bless him.

but yes honestly i felt very safe here and parisians seem to be experts of "i just like to mind my own business" which is my fave kind of people.

as for open places like versailles and other parks i visited where it was isolated for miles, i was mostly worried about being attacked by a dog or a lion (my irrational fear of animals will be the end of me) the men there were mostly just running and minding their own business too.

also i always have music blasting in my headphones so i hardly pay attention to anyone or anything (i know this is dangerous but tis my coping mechanism)

i hope you have safer and more peaceful travels in the future. we all deserve it 💙

[schmergo]

There's one news story that's haunted me for years, covering many of my niche topics of interest (such as zoo exhibit design and tigers). It happened way back in 2007, but I still think about it a lot. It's a wild ride and I'd like to share it with you. It does get violent and scary, so don't read on if you're not in the mood for that today. There has only been ONE instance of a person being killed by an escaped animal in an AZA-accredited zoo in the organization's nearly 100-year history. The AZA (Association of Zoos and Aquariums) has fairly comprehensive standards about things like exhibit design and guest safety-- any other story you've heard about something like this has been at an un-accredited roadside zoo. Usually, they're pretty careful to make sure large dangerous animals can never get anywhere near where guests were. This story from 2007 was a perfect storm of situations where such a horrible thing could happen. The star of our story was a Siberian tiger named Tatiana living at the San Francisco Zoo. (This is the largest sub-species of tiger, which may or may not be important here.) She had had one previous bout of aggression against humans about a year before this incident: she grabbed a zookeper's arm, pulled it through the bars of her behind-the-scenes area during feeding team, and bit it. But on this occasion, it was right around closing time at the zoo on Christmas Day. Tatiana was hanging out in her enclosure while three young guys began taunting her. (One was a 17-year-old named Carlos, the others were two brothers called Paul and Kulbir, aged 19 and 23.) Witnessed by nobody but the victims themselves, Tatiana leapt out of her enclosure and mauled two of the three guys. The two brothers (one of them injured) ran for a nearby zoo cafe, which was already closed for the day, and the cafe staff wouldn't let them in. One zoo employee called 911, but indicated that they thought the brothers were mentally ill or on drugs because they were claiming to have been attacked by a tiger and there was no escaped tiger. Only six minutes later did another zoo staff member report the tiger on the loose. Police and firefighters got to the scene, but they weren't allowed in to tend to the victims because the zoo was on lockdown due to the escaped tiger. Five minutes passed before they could get in. They did eventually find Tatiana the tiger attacking the other brother and fatally shot her. But tragically the third friend, 17-year-old Carlos, was found dead from severe injuries from the tiger near the tiger enclosure. The other two suffered injuries from tiger teeth and claws but were released from the hospital a few days later. Obviously the emergency response was very shoddy, but here's where things get really shocking. The zoo director went on the record saying that it would be impossible for Tatiana to escape the exhibit unless she had help. He suspected foul play. The exhibit barrier was 18 feet high, impossible for a tiger to jump over and well over the AZA-recommended height of over 16 feet. Experts said it would blinker belief for a tiger to jump that high, and the zoo director suggested that the victims may have climbed over a barrier fence and danged their legs into the exhibit, giving her something to grab onto and pull herself up with. As part of the investigation, they obviously closely examined the exhibit, and what they found horrified everyone. The fence was only 12 and a half feet tall. That's several feet under the recommended height. The exhibit had been build in the 1940s and had been inspected by AZA officials many times, including the previous year. Nobody had ever noticed a discrepancy between the stated height of the wall and its actual height. The paperwork said it was an 18 foot wall, and everyone believed it was an 18 foot wall. Nobody had thought to check to see exactly how tall it was in 60+ years. When asked why a tiger had never escaped from the inadequate exhibit before, the coordinator of the AZA's species survival plan for tigers said, "It probably didn't want to." Even with this obvious discrepancy, it's quite sobering to realize how high tigers can jump if provoked. Not only did Tatiana jump over 12 feet high, she also traveled across a 33 foot moat. It's easy to think that zoo animals will be less dangerous than their wild counterparts-- even experts believed until evidence showed otherwise that Tatiana, as a captive tiger, would not be capable of the peak physical effort it would take to get over the barriers-- but wild animals are wild animals. A closer examination of Tatiana's paws and claws indicated that she made it over the wall on her first try. What's the lesson here? Well, don't underestimate the power and ability of wild animals. Don't taunt tigers. Believe someone who says they were attacked by an escaped tiger! And remember to double check instead of just believing what someone says. ("They said there's plenty of eggs in the fridge and we don't need more? Well, the San Francisco Zoo said the tiger wall was 18 feet high and we all know how that went. I'm going to check the eggs.") In general, accredited zoos are very safe for guests. There's a reason this was the first deadly incident involving an escaped animal since the organization was founded in the 1920's. But this is very much the exception that proved the rule-- and there were so many mistakes and poor choices that had to happen to lead up to this horrible ending. What's your old news story that you still obsess over?

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Party Thrifter PARTIES: Regan and Leila SUMMARY: Adrift, Regan asks to shadow Leila at work to see if it might be her future. Leila eagerly agrees. An old enemy slithers out of the woodwork.

The Party Thrifter was slow today, and Leila was probably tired of Regan being at her heels, but Regan was diligently noting it all, ready to become an expert. Was operating a thrift store Regan’s future? Probably not. But she liked Leila well enough, and it gave her a place to be while she figured out her true calling. And who could say it wouldn’t be this? Thrifting was considered “cool,” wasn’t it? Things eventually became so old that they cycled back to chic eventually. (Did Jade’s ring net compliments?) Also, did Regan actually care about being “cool”? How was she supposed to know if she cared? Did thinking about it at all mean she cared? 

She forced her mind to turn over like a rock, pushing those thoughts underneath. ”Do you ever find incoming clothes with dead animals in them?” Regan asked idly, hanging up one of the new shirts that someone had dropped off earlier. She could tell there was nothing dead in there, but if it happened occasionally that would make this more exciting. Hold on. She was not supposed to be interested in that. Human. Right. Yes. Regan cleared her throat and amended, “Because, um, that would be… deligh– disturbing. Disturbing.” Smooth like a bone’s facet.

Creeeeeeaaak. From above, the rafters. Regan froze only for a split second, and looked to Leila for reassurance (no, expertise, she swapped in). Her lungs – increasingly sensitive to the slightest provocation – swelled, threatening to spill out. “This is an old building, yes? Much like the clothes. Do you ever worry about how sturdy it is?” Or isn’t.

—

She didn’t really know why Regan had wanted to shadow her. It wasn’t like owning a part-thrift-part-costume-part-front-for-being-human-store had a lot to offer in the way of bones and poor unfortunate creatures that had met their ends- naturally or otherwise. But perhaps Regan had a secret hobby of sewing or historical clothing… Did medical examiners sew? Leila didn’t have the foggiest. All she knew was that Regan- despite her potentially poor taste in romantic partners- was a friend to both Metzli and herself. And that meant her door was open. 

It would just be a nice little bonus if this resulted in Jade stopping to attempt second-death murder her loved ones.

“Not necessarily in the clothing, no… but I did find a little mouse at the bottom of one box. Poor thing had been there a while. But I think he lived a good mouse life. Very chubby, filled with all sorts of seeds and cheese and stuff…” The mouse in question had come in from an estate sale underneath a very musty pile of fur coats. It now had a final resting place in the back alley behind the shop. Though, with her luck, if Leila told the banshee that, the mouse’s bones would be exhumed. 

The creak above the mare’s head was a non-event. Old buildings made noise. This was a fact of life. But The Party Thrifter had been through a truly bizarre amount of strange happenings and remained standing. Most recently a giant flower had grown straight up through the floorboards and out the roof. The building still stood. Thankfully. Leila didn’t have the funds for that sort of repair project. “It’s old, but when I bought it, they told me it was kept up to code. Don’t worry too much. It’s probably either the humidity or the building settling.”

__

Leila seemed a little bit more subdued than usual, didn’t she? Not by a huge margin, but enough that Regan noticed it. She wasn’t alone. Several people weren’t sure how to interact with her after she returned from her “forever move” to Ireland. Leila had joined that swath now. It wasn’t like most humans knew what to do with her before, either. And maybe it didn’t matter. Regan knew she was in the presence of someone good, even if being near Leila felt like a wire brush against her skin. How she spoke of the dead mouse was evidence of that.

She hung up a Hawaiian shirt with a shrimp pattern. Tacky. She was keeping an eye out for something Jade might like. “I was not worried.” There went her stomach, folding in half. Worry had latched on like a hitchhiking tick since Ireland. The following creeeeeeak was louder, but she didn’t jump (it was a conscious hop). Or the floor was sloped. Like the stage in– no. Distraction. That was what she needed. It couldn’t be Jade’s lips right now, and she wasn’t going to kiss Leila (not that… no, not that either). “What did you do with the mouse? And, um, do you ever find clothes you wish to keep for yourself? You’re always well-dressed.” Creeeeeeak. Had Regan been anywhere else, with anyone else, she might not have been suspicious. You wear shirts like that, Leila had lobbed at her last time they saw their foe, an accusation. She really wished she was not wearing a turtleneck right now.

—

“The mouse got buried. It was before I met Metzli and you and thought that bones could be used as art. And I was feeling sentimental” She spoke as she worked, hanging newly-steamed-and-cleaned garment after garment onto a rack simply labeled ‘50s’. Technically, the dress she’d just finished was vintage. The fabric was old, as was the pattern she had used, but the production of the clothing had been done in modern times (if, perhaps, by antique hands). Leila wasn’t about to explain all that to customers, though. Better to simply hang it up. If people asked questions (which they rarely did) she could stitch together an answer easily enough. 

“As for the clothing… Some of the very old things were mine, once.” The oldest, however, had not started out as hers. They belonged to some dreamer or another, and she’d simply spirited off with it. Back when she couldn’t find the money, back when staying amongst humans felt dangerous for both herself and for their sake. “I take what I need, if I need it. Or I’ll just make it. It’s easier that way, sometimes.” A pair of light green pedal pushers (true vintage, found somewhere in Kansas City when they were in fashion) were hung up beside the dress. The mare paused a moment, glancing over at Regan. “If you find anything you like, you’re welcome to it, you know.” 

Creaaaaaaaaak. The shop seemed to punctuate the sentiment. As if it agreed. Friends were always welcome to take what they liked- it would always would be so, so long as Leila owned the little shop in Deerspring. Which… it couldn’t be forever. Eventually, someone would expect her face to change, for lines to form, for hair to gray, for age to set in and claim her. Only, it never would. Not for her. Not ever for her. She was already something far older than she should be- just like the clothing she mended and restored, Leila Beaulieu was an object that managed to persist outside of her time. And this beautiful golden moment in time, Wicked’s Rest and the community that had presented itself to her, couldn’t last- could it? Unless a lot of people got good with a lot of un-natural things very quickly, she would have to disappear one day. At least from public view. At least for a little while… But for now, she would enjoy her store. Her little creation. Creaking boards and flederprey in the attic and all. 

__

Burying the mouse was kind. Most people wouldn’t bother. That did not make Leila something exceptional for doing the right thing, but Regan could acknowledge that it was difficult to meet a bar when the rest of humanity did little but trample on it, unable to discern it from the ground. “If that mouse has family alive, and mice are capable of what we call mourning, I believe they would appreciate that.” And what of all the mice Regan had brought to Ireland for her grandmother? Cliodhna had taken one look at them and said they were a paltry offering. Then Regan had not seen them again. Presumably Cliodhna saw some purpose for them but hadn’t wanted Regan to feel good about it. Her face tightened, tense, but she was eager to follow Leila back to the clothes. The reason Regan was there.

“Oh? I forget how old you are, at times.” Something she didn’t want to think about, either. Why was every subject fraught? Anxiety rippled through her lungs. “You couldn’t have had that much, could you? To still have inventory? You do strike me as someone who would have taken good care of your things.” So many years. So much time. “You make some of these?” Regan paused, considering a gaudy pink dress in hands. The silk fabric nearly slipped through her fingers before she could hang it up. “If that's the case, do you still sell it as being from a certain decade? Or does it have more to do with the origin of the materials?” All organic matter – cadavers, leaf litter, even festering mushrooms themselves – were eventually recycled into something else. That did not make new life millions of years old. Or was fabric viewed differently than cells and molecules in that regard? She couldn’t tell if this was dishonest, stretching the truth, or a simple, universal truth of the thrift business. “It's more honest than some of the historical buildings here, where practically every plank of wood has been replaced over time. I do not believe something can be called the same if every piece of them– it has been shattered and then replaced.” Yet here she was, because some small part of her must have still believed that constitution was not the same as identity, that she could still be human, and that her proverbial ship of Theseus could come close enough to replicating the original or even become something better.

Maybe the wooden beams in this place really could have done with replacing, though. Regan might have liked the loud creaking had it not been a potential portent. 

Leila was willing to let her keep some of these things? She glanced between the different racks, a haze of colors striking her eyes, and confusion stirred inside her like sand whipped up by the tide. “I don’t, um– that's generous of you. Th– I don’t know what–” Regan cleared her throat. She would not say something utterly flabbergasting to Leila, would not admit that she wasn’t even sure how to know what she did and didn’t like at this point. “How do you know what you like? I thought I appreciated the practical nature of turtlenecks, but what if this whole time, I've simply been harboring self-consciousness about my neck?” She fidgeted with the collar on her sweater. “Maybe I should be trading it for one of these.” She gestured to that pink dress she previously thought of as gaudy. 

There was one last, loud creak as something swooped down from the rafters, and tattered black fabric concealed her vision. 

—

A chuckle filled the air like a soft summer breeze coming through an open window. Regan wasn’t wrong. She was old. Leila had to admit that even she forgot how old she had gotten from time to time. How many lifetimes had she lived through now? So many she’d lost count… “No, I didn’t have that much. Didn’t have anything, to start with… but every so often, very wealthy ladies who refused to wear the same thing twice happened to have nightmares and… well… I took the liberty of relieving them of the gown. Hid it away for myself to wear if I wanted to play pretend-to-still-be-human.” Those were lonely days. Scary days. And yet some of the clothing she’d stolen over those earliest of her hundreds of years were her favorites. The elegance of it all… 

The mare cast a glance at the frilly pink monstrosity in Regan’s hands. “Some. Not all. Not that.” It was a bit garish to say the least. Though, as a product of its time- the ‘80s judging by that shade of damn-near-fluorescent pink- it was probably a masterpiece. “And no. If I make it, I sell it as reproduction. If it’s fabric from the time period, I’ll say that, or if it’s purely reproduction through and through, just say that. The patterns defy time. Fabric, on the other hand, doesn’t always last…” 

Her gaze softened as she put down a neatly folded t-shirt atop the counter. “Listen to your heart. That’s what I’ve always done with cl-” 

A loud creaaaaaaaaaaak interrupted her, and down from the rafters came something tattered, black, and altogether too familiar. It was the turtleneck. Again. Had it been living in her attic? Had it crept in, sensing both of its nemeses in the same spot at the same time? Do something Leila… In a flash, the mare was rounding the counter and trying to get a fistful of now-raggedy fabric to wrench away from Regan’s head. 

__

“Stop talking about my sinus rhythm, that’s priv–” Oh. Regan couldn’t see past the fabric, but she knew. She could feel it in her bones, all of them, even her (fiercely loyal, non-betraying) pubis. This was Leila’s turtleneck. The one that had attacked them on multiple occasions. What was it about this woman? This time it didn’t have a screaming ring to tussle with – what happened to it? She’d think about that later. “Get off me!” Regan shouted, muffled. Her voice boomed despite it, and her lungs seemed to be pulsing away from her control. “How dare you try to cover my mouth! Off! Get your turtleneck!” Cliodhna would have been horrified at such an undignified display; she probably would have just blasted the thing down to its fibers. But Regan flailed (didn’t she always?), feeling Leila’s efforts to yank the sweater off in various directions. The thing was on tight, latched to her face like a baby monkey. Regan couldn’t see and ran straight into the rack they had just been hanging garments on, sending it clattering over.

Regan felt the collision. She fumbled back in the opposite direction assuming there’d be more room to deal with this screadail sweater, but her back hit another rack. It sent a painful shockwave up her spine, pinching at healing muscles. She couldn’t clamp down on her lungs any longer; her head spun from the lack of oxygen. Regan yelped. Something broke. She still couldn’t see. Finally, she was able to claw the sweater aside and see clearly with one of her eyes and looked pleadingly at Leila. “Get this thing. Off my face! How dare it--” It was going more for her neck now, sleeves winding around her jugular, an attempt to asphyxiate. Regan screeched – it poured out of her, louder and faster than intended – and pulled at the sweater some more. Something else broke, and this time, she traced the sound to the storefront windows, where a dangerous crack grew from top to bottom.

Leila had pestered the sweater enough that it twisted around, still clinging to Regan’s neck but bunched up in annoyance. One of the sleeves loosened on her throat and retreated into the tattered body of the sweater.

A knife gleamed from the end of the turtleneck’s sleeve, and it lunged for Leila.

—

There were a lot of things about the situation that Leila had not expected. The first, and most obvious, was the sweater descending from the rafters like a wild animal. But that was insignificant in comparison to the second thing. Regan screamed. Given the situation, that should not have been surprising in the least. But that little yelp sent a shiver down her spine. 

And then, a lightbulb popped. 

A string of curses fell from her lips as little shards fell about them, but the mare would not move from her spot trying to wrench the fabric away from the other woman’s face. How had the shirt gotten back into the store? Whatever strange vendetta it had against herself and Regan, surely it couldn’t last this long. Another loud screech and she heard the glass of the storefront windows crack. One more scream like that and she was sure the window would be nothing more than dust. Unfortunately for The Party Thrifter, Leila’s priorities leaned towards making sure Regan survived the ordeal of the turtleneck. 

The third unexpected situation came in the form of a decently sized knife wrapped in the cuff of the sweater’s sleeve, sharp point gleaming in her direction. A knife-wielding sweater lunging in her direction with a surprising amount of force. A knife-wielding sweater lunging with a surprising amount of force and digging that pointed blade into her skin as it wrapped itself around her head and neck. Leila let out an indignant scream as she tried to wrench the garment off of herself. It, and by extension the knife, were far too close to her neck for comfort. 

For the first time in the presence of the ridiculous, possessed, angry sweater, the mare was just a little bit… scared. 

__

The turtleneck had a knife. At some point, Regan had decided that questioning reality could usually wait until after she was no longer in imminent danger, or some other bizarre situation (Terramoist came to mind). Those mental breakdowns were put on pause and saved for later like an animal’s teeth you might pocket halfway through a stroll, except Jade usually believed whatever she said, so none of it felt all that insane these days. She had been speaking fairly openly about the worms, hadn’t she?

So this threat was real. She could decide otherwise tonight. But right now, it was real. Just as real as the threat of her lungs, sucking in churning air and readying it when she didn’t want them to. Regan wasn’t quick enough to intercept as the knife slashed across Leila’s shoulder – and really, what could she do? A sparkling substance seeped from Leila’s skin where blood should have dribbled, and Regan rushed in closer, ignoring the sweater that had been bucked to the floor. “That wasn’t a very good sc– hold on, what? Your shoulder? Are you bleeding? What is that? It doesn’t look like blood, so what–” Another light popped like an aneurysm. Now it was even harder to see and assess Leila’s injury, though that was probably best left for later too, when there wasn’t a sweater trying to stab them (with a knife, Regan reminded herself, tacked on to a second reminder that she couldn’t doubt it right now). She opened her mouth and didn’t even say anything before a third bulb exploded, this one right above them. She could feel the bite of glass against the skin of her arms. Light flashed across the glass even in the darkness of the store.

And so did the knife. Regan jumped as the sleeve of the turtleneck extended and took a swipe at her ankles, thankfully missing, though it arced far enough to slice Leila, too. Her lungs pulsed at the quick movement, building up to worse than those little yaps from before; she was being attacked on two fronts now: the turtleneck on the ground and the noise trying to shoot up her throat. Did Leila realize it, that she should probably move away? That even if not to avoid that turtleneck, Regan was afraid to even open her mouth? She kicked at the garment and it latched around her shoe like a python, creeping up her leg and dropping the clattering knife. It was fast around her torso, her arm, and then it… froze. The breath that pushed out of Regan shattered what remained of the store’s windows. There was a heavy, too-long second, where no one moved. 

Maybe it wouldn’t… 

No. The sleeves lashed out like a viper at Regan’s hand, coiling around her ring finger, seemingly intent on pulling her favorite lowercase jade off of her. She was knocked back into another clothes rack and rebounded to a third one. Finally, she couldn’t keep her mouth clamped shut; the sound leaked from between her ribs and threatened to blow her up from the inside. “Don’t touch that,” Regan screamed, her lungs doing what she had tried to avoid. “Let go! That’s mine! You have already taken one ring from me. Go find your own. Get off.” This thing obviously hated rings, after its battle with the one that screamed. But Regan didn’t care about its motive. She wouldn’t let anyone take this ring off her finger, especially after she herself had done it back at the lake in Ireland. She didn’t say anything this time, only screamed at the turtleneck, because she couldn’t hold it back, blasting it with enough force that its dangling threads peeled back creating new tatters. But there was no screaming only at something, was there? Around them, things broke and burst; the store wobbled on its old frame; clothes and papers swept across the store as if they had been caught in a storm.

—

Leila had been cut before. An injury was nothing new. In life, she’d known her share of scrapes and cuts. But those had been foolishly, clumsily earned. Not inflicted. Not given with the intent of damage. Those sorts of wounds only came into her world after her heart had stilled in her chest, after the blood had stilled and turned into that strange shimmering stardust that was now flowing from the wound on her shoulder. The blade had dug through the light fabric of her blouse and torn through the skin beneath with a surprising amount of weight. And for the first time, the nightmare couldn’t think. Couldn’t hear her own thoughts. They were swallowed up in the screaming of her own mind. Too close. It was too close to her neck, too close to her throat. She’d never really thought about it- how did one kill a mare? 

No one had to tell her anymore. The fear that swallowed her whole told her all she needed to know.

She wrenched the turtleneck away, hurling it to the ground. The ringing in her ears muffled the sound of Regan’s voice, distorting the words that came in a rush. She tried to read her lips- something about the shimmering blood that was falling with every little movement. Another high pitched wail pierced the room, shattering the lightbulb in the lamp that swung overhead- as if it, too, were fighting to survive the noise. The mare instinctively raised an arm to shield her face from the blast. Shards of glass bit into her forearm as they fell. More blood-curdling shrieking pierced the room, making glass fall like raindrops, sending a wave of sharp pain through her skull, as if it might destroy her too. The world felt as if it had tilted upside down and Leila could not right herself. She could not think, could not hear. Only feel. 

Pain blossomed anew in her calf as she tried to make one last grab at the possessed shirt, and that was enough to send Leila toppling over onto the floor. The glass crunched beneath her like snow that had long since turned to ice. For a moment, the world inside the Party Thrifter stilled, as if someone had pressed a button and paused everything. She took in the sight of her little store. Wracks of garments were knocked over, display cases had spiderweb cracks spreading across the panes of glass, and at the center of the destruction sat herself, Regan, and the sweater that had come to loathe the pair of them. She watched Regan stare down at the shirt for what felt like a second and an eternity…

And then the world exploded around them.

Whatever glass there was left in a whole piece in the shop shattered into a million pieces. Shelves fell, sending whatever had once sat safely upon them careening to the floor. It was as if a category five hurricane had been thrust into the little store in Deerspring, hellbent on bringing it all down. The old building moaned as it tried to hold itself together, and long settled dust fell from the eaves. The flederprey that had found their home in the attic joined the commotion- but only to do the smart thing, to flee the chaos before they fell victim to the destruction as well. 

It was all Leila could do to pull herself behind the old wooden counter and pray to a god that did not listen to her that the building would not fall in upon them all. 

__

Glass and wood splinters and crumpled garments spun around the room, sucking racks and miscellanea into its maelstrom. Glitter swirled with the rubble, like a craft bin had been blown open. Somewhere in there was the turtleneck, curled into a tight ball, knife clattered away from it and on its own separate trajectory. Regan couldn’t stop it. It was like a death scream, but there was no vision and no purpose to it. The screech exploded out for what felt like minutes, even though it had probably been nothing more than several agonizing seconds. Her body used to be ready for this. Even when it was a death scream, she could lock it inside of her. But her body had been given to other things since she’d come back, and she couldn’t even bring herself to empty her lungs and scream more than once or twice. So now that they had started, they were going to empty.

The force of Regan’s own scream knocked her backwards, and as the last ragged pants heaved from her throat, she was finally able to suck in a breath for herself that wasn’t immediately given as tinder for more screaming. As heavy as her body felt, as much as the weight of her skull made her neck bend, the reality of what had just happened was so much harder to hold. It crushed her small frame. She had come here, she had harmed Leila, and she had destroyed her store. Leila, who had always shown her kindness, even when she refused to give it to herself. Because Leila was like that; it flowed as naturally from her as destruction spilled from Regan’s lungs. This wasn’t so different from the comic book store, was it? A business born of love, formed by blood, sweat, and tears and not in need of any more. This was Leila’s livelihood; it was what she loved. And Regan had razed it to the ground. 

Was it her lack of training, her control over every muscle in her chest and throat forgotten? Or was it that she had given herself to emotion? Jade, the ring, and her care for Leila all tainted a situation that would have otherwise been so simple for her to navigate, once upon a time. Even the last few times they encountered the turtleneck had gone better than this (though she had already been on a steep decline). Regan’s chest pounded as she sat on the floor, legs splayed in front of her, palms punctured with glass. Her whole body vibrated, like her lungs weren’t done with her. If anything, they were delivering a reminder: if she wasn’t going to work to control them, they would control her. The breath that rushed out from between her teeth knocked over the only rack that had been left standing. And then, finally, her lungs stilled, and the thumping in her abdomen belonged only to her heart. She wished that had stilled, too. 

Leila was more intact than anything else in what used to be The Party Thrifter. She even sparkled, though Regan wasn’t sure if it was the dizziness behind her own eyes making it look that way, or there really was glitter pouring out of Leila. That Leila was okay was something Jade might have focused on – look, no one died! – but Regan was having a difficult time wrapping around that truth, when it just as easily could have not been one. Finally, Regan could swallow, though there was nothing to send down her throat. Others will suffer for what you have done, her grandmother said. Was it any surprise that Cliodhna, a woman who had proven to almost always be right, even if not morally, was correct once again? They will suffer for as long as you live, my shame, my stupid leanbh. 

Her eyes glanced down to her hand, smeared with blood. Her ring was splattered in it. The turtleneck was nowhere to be seen, not that anyone could have found anything in this mess. “I never should have come here,” Regan said, unsure as to which point in her timeline that regret belonged, and even leaden with shame her voice was still louder than expected. She hissed at her own lungs. Could Leila even hear her? Regan knew this was beyond apologizing for even if Leila could hear it, but the word tunneled out anyway. Or tried to. “I never should have– if I listened to– I’m sorry. I’m so–” With a deep breath – one that smothered her chest until it listened to her again – Regan rose up, shaky on her legs. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Leila with eyes that pleaded to help, but with no expectation that she could.

—

She wasn’t sure when the silence started and the piercing screams ceased. One seemed to bleed into the other, and a painful ringing reverberated over and over inside her skull. Leila could not hear the tinkling of remnant glass shards falling like summer rain on the old wooden floor, nor the groaning of old lumber that made the frame of her precious store. She felt, though. Felt the bite of wounds from blade and shard, felt the shaky, unnecessary breaths as blood like stardust continued to flow down from the gash that sat too close to her neck… Felt the force shaking the building stop. The mare sat there curled up like some wounded animal, and for the first time in a while, she could taste her own fear on her lips.

There had not been a home through the decades. The world Leila knew was the shadows of caves and alleyways, where she could keep away until dissolving into some other dream. Wicked’s Rest had changed that. The store had been dusty and vacant when she’d bought it. The agent who had sold it was glad to get it off their hands- who wanted old, abandoned things anyway. Except, perhaps, the old and lonely, looking for a space to be whole once again. It took all her remaining strength to pull herself out from behind that counter, wincing at the wave of pain that came with movement, and drank in the sight of the place. 

Beyond repair. So much was beyond repair. Chapters of her life were torn apart, strewn in pieces on splintered floorboards. Summer light came flooding in from empty spaces where windows once were and illuminated the destruction, refracting light off of shards of glass, sequins, and jewels. The world was silent all around- perhaps sound was stolen from the rest of town, too. At the heart of the store sat Regan. Hand smeared red with the blood of a living thing. Their eyes met. Leila could not hear the words she was saying. But a look told her they were full of remorse. Pain. 

“It’s not your fault… It’s alright…” 

She wasn’t even sure if she’d said the words. The act of speaking and not hearing her own voice was unfamiliar. And even if Regan could hear her, would she believe it? Leila didn’t ponder that question long before the world slowly went fuzzy. Tired. Strange to have immortal, unsleeping life and be so suddenly tired.  

The mare silenced the rest of her little world and closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them once more it would be a dream… knowing that it wouldn’t be.

[tadfools]

requesting a vibe check! can someone do me a quick little favour and read this (is about 900 words) and tell me if it's a good opener for a story?

She could hear the fire crackling behind her, popping every so often with the remnants of the boar’s fat which had dripped within the pit several hours prior. It was a good find and, with Gale’s little freezing trick, would keep the group fed for at least another few days.

Tavris was almost hesitant to grab the animal’s carcass and take it back to the camp but Wyll and Karlach insisted. The placement was too perfect – the kill too clean. As if the beast was meant to be found.

Beyond that, Astarion had attempted to pull her attention from it in a way that opposed what she decided was his normal behavior. While they had only known each other for a handful of days, his need to draw her attention from the boar struck her as odd. Had Wyll not rolled it over with the heel of his boot, the two thin trails of blood clotting the fur of its neck would have gone unnoticed. Had Tavris not been slightly turned to the side, the motion of Astarion’s eyes darting away would have gone the same.

A problem for later she supposed. Everyone in the group was entitled to their own secrets. Astarion was no exception.

Their system for the night’s watch had gone well so far. With two of them being of the elven variety, it meant that watch could be split up between just the two of them while the others slept soundly for 8 hours. Though Lae’zel was prone to ‘scanning the perimeter’ before settling down, similar to a disgruntled housecat.

Tavris was meant to sleep first; with another three hours still to pass before her pale companion would end her meditation - if it didn’t come naturally to a close. She had pulled herself away from the group, stating that the sound of the river’s water aided her rest. Her back was now to the fire and the others sleeping soundly around its diminishing warmth. It wasn't necessarily a lie; the water’s babbling did help. Though not with any pathetic attempt at mediation. It was a distraction.

The gnolls that had ravaged that caravan… the blood of those accompanying it. All of it spilt poorly, with the same care a child would afford to throwing paint during a tantrum. It was disgusting.

Where was the artistry, where was the craft? The suffering of every human slaughtered there was ended quickly. The animals lunged for throats first. Pathetic. Would it have been so that she led the massacre, the suffering would have gone on for hours. The screams would have been savored with an expert’s care-

She snapped her eyes open, now faced with hands clenched into fist that sat in her lap. The deep purple of Tavris’ skin pulled taught around her knuckles as she flexed them. The thoughts weren’t getting any easier to push away. Her mind never stilled, near relentless in the horrors that would accost it at any given moment.

The most mundane of activities, it seemed, were tinged with depravity. Something as simple as cutting carrots for the stew which made the group’s dinner was twisted within brief flashes of each chop being a finger’s knuckle. The owner of the appendage howling in a pain that she reveled in.

The peeling of the onions was a task Gale gave to her after. Tavris could almost imagine it being the same as peeling back the skin of a face. An agonizingly simple motion, a simple pull of the ear and one could achieve a clean removal to the other side.

It was almost enough to drown out the prattling of her fellow wizard, who in the few days since they met, decided he was to be the group’s resident cook. There was a twinge in the back of her mind when she thought that. Not the mutilation of a man meant to be her friend, but in the idea that he could be considered an equal to her in any regard.

The magic that Gale played with wasn’t worth killing. It was meant for show - to impress others that were meant to die. Where Gale made a show of a flick of the wrist and bright colorful displays of sparks. She should’ve cut his hand off when she had the chance Tavris wield pure, concentrated death in her hands…it wouldn’t have been that hard to rot the wizard’s flesh.

None of that was within a line of thinking Tavris wanted to be anywhere near. She wanted to listen Gale’s stories of Waterdeep and learn how he casted spells like an art display.

It was easier to raise a corpse and have it an answer a string of questions than it was for her to produce a simple flame in the palm of her hand. Even in the fight against the gnolls, she wanted to lunge at them with a dagger instead of sending a bolt of radiant energy towards them from a distance. Why was that?

The headache which never fully left her thrummed in time with her heartbeat. A steady rhythm of blood which serenaded her in quiet moments. It was maddening.

What had she done before the nautiloid to be cursed with the inability to sit in quiet for even a moment? Tavris took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. If it was that painful to focus within, she would focus out.

The fire dying down, Karlach’s snoring, Shadowheart – or perhaps Wyll tossing in their bedroll, the river flowing away from them, frogs croaking and crickets chirping and the sound of… leaves crunching.

Crunching leaves that were all but muffled within the other sounds of the night. Had she not been actively listening the footfalls; they would have gone unnoticed.

[fatehbaz]

Paul Van Damme and Fortuna Vargas Mejía met 28 years ago in Puerto Villarroel, a village in the Bolivian department of Cochabamba. Van Damme was a Belgian marine biologist who found in the lagoons of the Bolivian Amazon “the closest thing to a sea.” Vargas was a native of Cochabamba who had worked as a navigator for 12 years before becoming a fisherman, so he knew well the Amazonian rivers and lagoons [...].

At that time — the 1990s — commercial fishing had just begun to boom in Puerto Villarroel, a municipality located on the banks of the Ichilo River in the Mamoré Basin [...] of the Bolivian Amazon. [...] Until then, the area and its forests had been well preserved and was home to a mainly Indigenous population. People from the Moxo and Yuqui Indigenous groups lived in communities along the banks of the river [...]. Little by little, people from other parts of Bolivia started to move to the urban center of Puerto Villarroel and its outskirts, leading to it eventually becoming the main and largest commercial port connecting western and eastern Bolivia. [...]

These investigations eventually led to the study of the bufeo, or river dolphin (Inia boliviensis), a species endemic to the Madera River Basin, the largest population of which is found in Bolivia. As a predator of small- and medium-sized migratory fish, the river dolphin’s presence is viewed as an indicator of aquatic and riparian habitat health. Put another way: It is very sensitive to any changes in the ecosystem [...].

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In murky waters such as those of the Ichilo River, the dolphin was often seen shimmying to the rhythm of the waves and then disappearing, and it was a mystery as to where it would rear its head again. Sometimes, when the observation boat passed through warmer and clearer waters, small groups of 4-5 dolphins would appear in groups [...]. Last year, nature photographer Alejandro de los Ríos captured a pair of dolphins with an anaconda in their mouths. It is not known if they were playing with it or about to devour it, but the image was featured in news outlets around the world [...].

Until 2006, I. boliviensis was thought to be a subspecies of the Amazonian river dolphin, Inia geoffrensis, but [...] it was identified as an independent species. This differentiation, however, is still in the process of being recognized internationally. [...]. That is why, in the Bolivian Red Book of Vertebrates, it is considered a Vulnerable species, while for the International Union for Conservation of Nature it is listed as Endangered. [...]  Far from the debate, experts in conservation, biology and ecology have reacted with astonishment to the findings about Bolivia’s only fully aquatic mammal. Details about these aquatic mammals include [...] they behave differently whether they are in dark or clear waters; the mothers and the whole group take care of the offspring; and not only do they not want their offspring to go near the fishing nets, but they seem to reprimand them when they do so. Such findings are “new and fascinating” information, according to Lila Sainz, wildlife officer for WWF-Bolivia. [...]

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[T]he presence of the dolphin has been reported in nine protected areas across Bolivia. [...] [T]he animals tend to migrate long distances [...]. “We have to take into account that I. boliviensis moves through rivers, but the other aquatic systems it uses, such as lagoons, meanders, and the surrounding habitat all are also important,” said Gabriel Tavera, a biologist [...]. “Furthermore, a number of these protected areas flood with water during the rainy season, meaning the bufeo can also swim through flooded forests,” he added.

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Image, caption, and text by: Rocio Lloret. “Scientists and fishers team up to protect Bolivian river dolphin.” Mongabay. 12 April 2023. As translated by Matthew Rose. Story first published in Spanish at Monabay’s Latam site on 29 November 2022. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]