#bessy the first dog

[lerry-hazel]

Visuals no one asked for;

aka things I looked up while writing my latest fic in order to find out what weird shit playing out in my head would look like iRL - which turned out to be fun.

Of course, nothing is mine.

The bear is based on this art; screenshots are screenshots; the rest is poached from Google Images, do a reverse search if you are curious ;-)

And yes, I know it isn't actually the same castle.

Could someone please draw them all in Starfleet uniforms, so that I could stop dreaming up weird crossovers? Or just come chat to me about which alien each of them would be :-D

[wosohermoso]

Lucy Bronze

Mi Casa Es Su Casa

Warnings: Implied homophobia, FLUFF, none?

Lucy shows a level of affection that she has been holding back on for a while

_

“You ready?” I give Lucy a light tipped smile as she does the zipper up on her coat.

“Mhm” She nods, picking up the leash as my family dog Bessie follows her out of our home.

Lucy had been staying with my family for the past few days. It was the first time in a good while that we had been able to spend some quality time together. Despite having been together for over a year, the time we spent together in person was always hindered by however many days Lucy had away from training, which wasn’t as many as we liked, so we’d soak up as much time together when we could - for however long we could.

My family adored Lucy. My parents treated her like their own as soon as she stepped foot in our home for the first time, just as Lucy’s family did with me, and it was such a breath of fresh air knowing that our families adored us just the same. Being completely openly affectionate in front of them, though - was something Lucy struggled with - having been in past relationships in which her partners family were not okay with their daughter dating another girl.

-

Winter had hit with a vengeance, the misty air making the end of the walkways almost indecipherable. It was safe to say the pair of us were freezing.

I pull my scarf over my nose and mouth as we walk along the frosted path of the woodland park, Lucy’s hand intertwines with mine.

“I think I’m gonna help your mum prepare the roast when we get back” She states, her thumb brushing delicately over mine.

“Yeah?” I grin behind my scarf.

“M-yeah.” She nods. “Gotta show her I care, right?” She chuckles.

I giggle at the gesture, giving her hand a small squeeze as we continue on our walk.

Bessie trotted beside Lucy, still attached to her leash, while she sniffed around in the leaves.

“Alsooo-” Lucy drags out, stopping us in her tracks as she very carefully pulls me towards her.

“What?” I giggle as my hand glides effortlessly around my girlfriends waist.

Lucy pulls down my scarf as she leans down ever so slightly, placing her lips delicately against mine.

“I feel like I haven’t actually given you a proper kiss since being home” She breathes out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

In that moment - I realised that although Lucy had been staying with us for just under a week, we hadn’t really shown each other that much affection away from my closed bedroom door. I hadn’t really thought about it, because I respected Lucy’s wishes of taking things slow while family were around, it’s something she was wary about and for valid reasons. With the both of us being one of, if not, the only members of our families that considered ourselves to be part of the lgbtq+ community, it was always going to be complex to navigate, even if our families didn’t care. Having people pretend that they don’t mind, but then bringing it up in unnecessary situations was something the both of us had had to deal with in the past. It was just something that played on her mind quite a bit, and that was completely okay.

“Home?” I tilt my head, admiring how the faint white hue of the crisp air made her eyes look all the more greener. I was in absolute awe of her.

“My home is your home” She tilts her head to mimic me.

“Mi casa es su casa” I state, before her lips once again, press against mine.

The kiss was deeper, all the more meaningful, as she brings my chin closer with her thumb and finger, before her hand slips behind my neck.

Her head tilts slightly as I feel her tongue brush against my lower lip, a small giggle leaving my mouth as I feel her grin against me. The brisk air against my face was very quickly masked by Lucy’s lips, as well as her embrace. Not only did she make me warm on the outside, but so warm inside without even realising.

I open my mouth just a little wider, allowing Lucy to deepen the kiss, our tongues slowly brushing against each other in passion and unison.

This kiss meant more to us than any other. It was soft, slow, and it felt like we were the only two people in the entire world.

That was until I felt Lucy jolt against me.

“M- what the fuck” She gasps as her lips leave mine.

Bessie jumps up at Lucy repeatedly, her muddy paws leaving almost perfect prints on her grey joggers.

Lucy cackles, giving me a short peck on the lips.

“Okay Bessie!” She laughs at my extra impatient dog. “Come on!” She grins as she begins to be dragged along by Bessie, her hand latching on to mine as we are unwilling lead away from our intimate situation.

“Wait.” Lucy turns to me. “One more” She pleads, giving me a soft peck on the lips.

“One more” She kisses me again, chuckling as Bessie drags her further and further away from me.

“Wait!” She pouts, attempting to give me one last peck before reluctantly continuing to walk.

“She’s a jealous lady, aren’t you Bess!” I laugh as I watch Bessie pull Lucy along the crystallised path.

“She doesn’t like her mama showing affection to others, she’s the one you have to watch out for!” I snort.

Lucy flashes me a playful eye roll.

“Mama? Sounds good” Lucy glances at me, a soft smile sweeping across her face before her eyes avert down to her feet.

The thought of - one day - having children with Lucy made my heart burst, and I could tell by the way that Lucy looked at me in that moment, that that was what was going through her mind.

“One day, Lucia” I give her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“One day” She nods.

[pazzesco]

⚞Chief Red Shirt⚟

Chief Red Shirt - Oglala Sioux

Red Shirt (Oglala Lakota: Ógle Ša in Standard Lakota Orthography) (1847–1925) was an Oglala Lakota chief, warrior and statesman.

Chief Red Shirt camped with Crazy Horse and the rest of the Oglala at the Little Big Horn. The Oglala camp was next to the Cheyenne camp near the bottom of what is now known as Last Stand Hill. Red Shirt supported Crazy Horse during the Great Sioux War of 1876-1877 and the Ghost Dance Movement of 1890, and was a Lakota delegate to Washington in 1880.

Dakota delegation to Washington, D.C., Left to right, Red Dog, Little Wound, John Bridgeman (interpreter), Red Cloud, American Horse and Red Shirt. June, 1880

Chief Red Shirt wore his hair to represent peace and war. One side of his hair was wrapped to indicate he was ready for peace, the other side was worn loose indicating his readiness for war. This was done when he traveled with Chief Red Cloud to Washington D.C.

Red Shirt surrendered with Crazy Horse in 1877. After the surrender he moved to an area that is now known as Red Shirt, SD. Red Shirt was one of the first Wild Westers with Buffalo Bill's Wild West and a supporter of the Carlisle Native Industrial School. Red Shirt became an international celebrity Wild Westing with Buffalo Bill's Wild West and his 1887 appearance in England captured the attention of Europeans and presented a progressive image of Native Americans.

Red Shirt in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show

On March 31, 1887, Chief Red Shirt, Chief Blue Horse and Chief American Horse and their families boarded the SS State of Nebraska in New York City, leading a new journey for the Lakota people when they crossed the ocean to England on Buffalo Bill's first international to perform at the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria and tour through Birmingham, Salford and London over a five–month period. The entourage consisted of 97 Indians, 18 buffaloes, 2 deer, 10 elk, 10 mules, 5 Texas steers, 4 donkeys, and 108 horses. Buffalo Bill treated Native American employees as equals with white cowboys. Wild Westers received good wages, transportation, housing, abundant food and gifts of clothing and cash from Buffalo Bill at the end of each season.

Photo from London - Red Shirt was lionized by the British press and his handsome features and stately bearing caused reporters to hang on his every word. Queen Victoria adored Chief Red Shirt and reportedly said after meeting him, "I know a real prince when I see him."

William F. "Buffalo Bill" Cody, Rosa Bonheur, Chief Rocky Bear, Chief Red Shirt, William "Broncho Bill" Irving, Roland Knoedler, and Benjamin Tedesco in front of Cody's Tent at the Paris Exposition Universelle - 1889

Another photo of Red Shirt - this time with Cody's company somewhere in Italy, 1890. Front row: No Neck, Rocky Bear, Black Heart, Georgie Duffy, Cody, Bessie Farrell, Annie Oakley, Red Shirt. Others in back row: Buck Taylor (fifth from right), Johnny Baker (fourth from right), Carter Couturier, advertising agent(?) (second from right), Has No Horses (far right)

Chief Red Shirt's rifle & scabbard.🔼 - Details 🔽

Chief Red Shirt was a Wild Wester for over thirty years - St. Louis World's Fair, 1904.

Chief Red Shirt (Ógle Ša) - 1847–1925

[newtonsheffield]

Do you think Newton would get along with the other family dogs?

How does Newtons introduction to Bessie, Phillips dog go?

Do they become Enemies, Lovers or Friends?

There is but one thing that’s important to Newton: He is the top dog. All other Bridgerton family dogs must let him have the first snoot of everything and defer to him in all matters.

Those are the rules.

[ilvansims3conversion]

4to3 Animal Topiaries & Starter Hedge (Base Game, Cats & Dogs, and Cottage Living) Conversion

I always loved the topiaries from sims 4, but sadly they haven't been converted to sims 3 yet. So this is my first batch of these topiaries conversion ;)

Full details (price, polycount, etc) on my modthesims page. Direct download links below:

Base Game

Lotta Llama: SFS | mediafire

Topiary Master’s Elephant:  SFS | mediafire

Starter Hedge:  SFS | mediafire

Cats & Dogs  (high poly warning)

Proud Poodle:  SFS | mediafire

Cat Lover’s:  SFS | mediafire

Cottage Living (high poly warning)

Bessie the Cow:  SFS | mediafire

An Ode to Chickens:  SFS | mediafire

Little Wabbit:  SFS | mediafire

@katsujiiccfinds @xto3conversionsfinds @matchsim @pis3update @acottonsock​

[heisamarvelouspersona]

VDL boys + "Dog or Cat Person"

this is my first post on tumblr and im *really* hoping this hasnt been done already.

Dutch:

cat person i just f*cking know it

he's one of those cat people that cannot distinguish his baby from an actual human child (me too its fine)

he has a white persian kitty and she lives in absolute luxury

just like the count, she wont let anyone else pet her. shes also probably called the countess

shes his special little babygirl, his meow meow, his little sweet cheese. if Arthur and John were drowing and he could only save one? he'd go catch a fish for his lil kitty cats dinner.

tried to take her as his plus one to the mayors party. Hosea absolutely would not allow it. spent hours debating over it.

Javier:

dog person

he's one of those guys that "doesnt see the point in cats"

"dogs are companions. you can never trust a cat. they lack loyalty" (speak for urself javi)

he probably tried to pet one once and it rejected him. now hes got a grudge against all of them

he likes little dogs. jack russels the most. they're tiny but fierce (and also very cute)

his dog will curl up at his feet whilst he plays guitar at the fire

John:

dog person

its not like he doesnt like cats. they just really don't like him.

hes too loud and excitable, and he kind of smells. cats just see him as one big hairless dog.

which he is. rufus sleeps at the foot of the bed with him and abigail....usually ends up inbetween them like a little kid and John just thinks its adorable. (abigail not so much)

prefers smaller, shorthaired dogs, that don't resemble wolves - for totally understandable reasons

will go out hunting with his dog and come back days later...with more dogs.

Sean:

both. totally both. i cannot see this man having a favourite

big, wolfy dogs and ginger cats ftw

will share his bed and literally let them eat off of his plate. drinks from the same cup as his cat and lets them both give him kisses. its gross but endearing

worms? he doesnt know her (he absolutely does)

hes covered in scratch marks. hes a full-time cat dad (i love him)

when his dog has zoomies...he probably has zoomies too

hes actually really good at training his pets? his dog is the most well behaved in camp. even dutch asked him to teach "the countess" some party tricks

Hosea:

dog person

hes allergic to cats :(

he still enjoys their company, he just cant have his own.

has a coonhound. he and bessie got her as a puppy. shes around 11 years old now but shes still got some life in her. much like her dad.

he used to take her hunting with him but now shes getting too old. still takes her on cons n such.

he'll take her fishing in the boat, chatting away to her about the old days with bessie.

he was raised with dogs. hes like a certified dog whisperer

Charles:

both...but leaning toward cats.

he would love to have a dog but he recognises that he doesnt have enough time to spare for a dog. dogs are family pets, cats are more suited to his way of life

even tho he doesn't have his own dog he always spares time for the rest of the camps canine companions. often going hunting just to bring them back their own meat.

his cat is just as stoic and kind as he is

hes the type of cat owner that wont see his cat for like 7 months and then they'll turn up like its nothing.

he doesnt worry because he trusts his cats natural instincts to find its home.

he pets every cat dog he sees. every. single. one.

[mtaartsdesign]

Donald Lipski’s new permanent artwork “Bessie and Roxey” (2023) at the Long Island Rail Road (LIRR) Mineola station celebrates two separate but interconnected figures of Long Island history – aviator Bessica (Bessie) Raiche and Roxey the LIRR dog.

Bessica Raiche, credited by the Aeronautical Society of America as the “First Woman Aviator of America,” in 1910 took flight alone for the first time in a biplane constructed with her husband at their Mineola home. After starting a company with her husband building planes and giving flying lessons in the neighborhood, Raiche resumed her previous career as a physician and went on to become one of the first women specialists in obstetrics and gynecology.

Roxey, a stray dog who found his way to LIRR Garden City Station in 1901, was adopted by the station master and became the de-facto LIRR mascot. Roxey regularly rode the trains and was given a pass to sit wherever he chose. The beloved dog even traveled with President Theodore Roosevelt in his private car to Oyster Bay and visited the President’s home at Sagamore Hill.

Lipski’s 20’ tall bronze sculpture joins realistic depictions of the two in a pose reminiscent of the Statue of Liberty. Rendered in the familiar green patina, Raiche holds up the LIRR dog in place of the torch. Standing on a stone base, the towering figure can be seen in the station plaza and from across the platform.

Lipski collaborated with modelling artist Christopher Collins to create the figures, and Art Castings Co then fabricated the work in bronze finished with patina.

Photos: Jason Mandella

[urtheoneiwant]

New (Furry) Addition: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Genre: FLUFF, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After a long time coming, you finally think you and Bradley are ready for a new family member.

Warnings: Dogs!, animal shelters, pretty sure this is gender neutral but was writing with fem!reader in mind, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything! Oh and kinda minimal editing, please excuse typos/bad grammar.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hi guys! Just wanted to say that this is my first ever fic I'm posting and I hope you like it. I use to work at a dog shelter and recently had to quit since I'm moving soon so I've been missing it. Super nervous posting this, but I hope you all like it :)

You were obsessed, no, infatuated. You felt as though this urge consumed every spare second you had. Something had to be done.

Rooster was well aware of your love for animals, specifically dogs. You spent every Saturday volunteering at the local animal shelter and coming home to talk his ear off about all the cute pups. So he can’t say he was surprised when you approached him one night with puppy dog eyes.

“Baby” you spoke softly. Rooster looked up from the football game he was previously watching on the sofa. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, what’s up honey?” he responded. A slight part of him was worried by your manners as you were acting as if you had done something terrible (or illegal). But that melted away when you rushed out your question.

“Can we please get a dog?” you rush out. You were suddenly very nervous, unsure as to why. You and Rooster had been together for years, and for 2 of those lived together. And while you knew Rooster could never really deny you something for too long, you didn’t want him to feel forced into the decision.

“I don’t know sweetheart. I’m not around enough to let it out and we do move around a bit. It would put a lot of responsibility on you.” he answered honestly. Now, Rooster adored dogs. He remembers his black lab, Patriot, which he had growing up, being his best friend. That dog slept by his bedside every night and woke Bradley up every morning by licking his face. But he knew that logistically he wouldn’t be able to take much care of any new furry additions to the household.

“I know, I know. But I’ve been thinking about it and I think I’m ready for one. I mean, I work from home so I’ll always be here to watch it. And I feel that having something to take care of and be responsible for will be good for me. Something besides plants.” You plead and Rooster chuckles. Your home office was sprawling with all sorts of plants, which you were slowly starting to expand to the rest of the house. 

“I guess a dog could be good for you. Keep you company, especially while I’m out on missions” Rooster thought aloud. 

“Let me take you to the shelter tomorrow, just to look,” you said, and much to your happiness Rooster agreed.

---

That night felt like Christmas Eve. You were so excited for the morning that you spent the whole night tossing and turning. And when it was finally a reasonable hour, you brushed back the hair from your boyfriend’s head and gently shook him awake. 

After some groaning on his end, and a lot of insistent shaking from you, you finally got the man vertical and getting ready for the day. As you were in the kitchen pouring two cups of coffee, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and the soft plop of weight on your shoulder from behind. Lips brushing against your neck you heard Rooster softly murmur something to you. “We’re just looking today, okay?” Famous last words. 

“Okay baby, just looking” you parrot back. You turn in his grasp to now face him, chest pressed to chest. Playfully you start to plant tiny chaste kisses around his face, giggling at the slight scruff you feel from his mustache. Once you’ve had your fill, you place a final kiss on his lips, soft and lingering. 

Within the hour the two of you are packed up in the Bronco (which you had decidedly named Bessy) and pulling out of the driveway. About 5 minutes into the ride, you feel Bradley’s hand settle on your thigh that has not stopped bouncing since you sat down. “Someone’s excited,” he commented as he smoothed comforting circles into your skin in an attempt to calm you down. 

You look over the him and flash him a grin, displaying nothing but enthusiasm. ‘Excited’ didn’t even describe the half of it. You felt yourself slip into a daydream of coming home after a long day to a ball of fluff bounding up to you. Or waking in the middle of the night to see your furry baby bundled up next to you or Brad. And before long, you heard the cut of Bessy’s engine and looked up to find yourself parked outside the local shelter. 

Walking in, you squeezed Bradley’s hand and keep peeking over at him to judge his level of excitement. You could tell he was trying to keep calm in front of you and be the reasonable one, because if not you would leave with a whole pack of dogs. 

Once checked in, you were lead to the kennels by a young staff member whole told you about the shelter’s mission as you walked. You were so impressed by the facility and the care they took of their animals. When you entered the kennels, you let out a squeal rushing up to the first dog in sight.

“Oh my god! Brad, I’m in heaven.” You crouched down to get on the same level with the pittie in front of you. Bradley let a wide simile fall on his face, happy to see you happy. 

As you began to walk down the row of kennels, stopping every so often to interact with a few dogs, you could hear Bradley talking with the staff that walked you over. “So, we’re open to any size and breed, but we just want to make sure that any new additions to the family are dog and kid friendly. You know, for any future plans we have. Also due to my job, I’m not home very often, so my girlfriend will be the primary caretaker. She says she is cool with any energy level, but I think for her first dog we should go with a more chill temperament.” 

Your heart fluttered hearing Brad’s concern for you. You had assured him that you could handle a hyper dog, but you knew he worried with him not being home a ton. And deep down, you had a feeling that a lower energy dog would more practical for you.

“Of course!” the staff smilied back. “We actually have a little guy that sounds to be perfect for you. He’s been here for a while sadly, but we think it’s just because of his breed.” 

“We want to meet him! We’d love to actually.” You jumped in, overhearing the conversation. You loved all dogs, but you especially had a soft spot for stories like this. And the breed of any dog would certainly not hold you back from falling in love with them. 

As you rounded the corner, a room came into view with a person and the sweetest dog you had ever seen on leash with them. At the sight of you, the pup began wagging his tail and slightly jumping of the ground. As you approached him, he laid down and rolled over, presenting him belly for some loving. 

“This is Benny, he’s a year old American Bulldog, around 60 lbs. Super friendly with people of all ages, and all sorts of pets. He gets pretty hyped when first meeting new people, but will calm right down in a second.” The person holding him told you and Brad.

After some belly rubs, you sat down next to Benny and next thing you knew he was crawling right into your lap giving you wet kisses all over. Laughing at the dog’s actions, you looked at Brad and nodding to Benny, as if telling him to come say hi. 

At first you could see some hesitation in Bradley’s face, but it all melted away the second the dog began to give his kisses to him. 

After spending time with Benny and getting to walk him, you and Bradley were convinced that this was your soul dog. And so there you were signing the final paperwork as he loaded up the car with all the supplies you needed for your new fur baby. You decided to sit the back seat with Benny on the way home to give him some much deserved love. 

---

And just like that, it was as if you and Bradley had had him his whole life. You could tell that dog loved and trusted both of you with everything in him. About after a week with him, he was renamed to Sarge. Brad insisted on a military-esque name so he “fit in” with the rest of his family. 

Sarge loved to snuggle on the couch, swim in the pool (or play in pretty much any body of water he could find), and would do anything to appease you guys. Bradley would work with him every day off he had to train him and you swore he was the most well behaved dog you had ever seen. 

And on those terrible days where everything went wrong, and Bradley couldn’t be there to give you love, Sarge would run up to you and place his big head in your lap and give you the comfort you desperately needed. 

[oldstormyy]

hosea. slander him

First impression: this is the funniest part because the first time i played rdr2 (through my girlfriend streaming her game) i couldn't remember his name until chapter 4 and then i was mostly just excited to see him die and forever change the trajectory of Dutch’s life <3 I also remember the first time I saw him sitting with his foot on the table. Memorable

Impression now: [sound of explosion] "I love that Hosea, he's a true artist!"

Favorite moment: Banking the old american art. literally never has a death scene been more satisfying or meaningful. it's the WORST thing that could happen to him--shot in the street like a dog, his protégé died right after him, he created such a black hole within the gang that there was no coming out of it. and it was HIS plan, Dutch didn't even wanna do the job! simply a meteor of a moment

Idea for a story: I would love to write his comphet arc (from meeting Bessie then leaving the gang and ultimately coming back) but we know almost nothing about Bessie so whatever I do I won't be satisfied with it

Unpopular opinion: he is not a great parent and he is just as idealistic as Dutch but I've said that before I believe

Favorite relationship: okay. I can't even pretend it's not his relationship with Dutch. there's just something so larger than life about their chemistry. other than that, his relationship with Abigail makes my knees weak. he loves her so much :(

Favorite headcanon: I guess the way I draw young Hosea counts. I think he had dark blonde hair and dark eyebrows. and I think he started going grey in the 80s. oh, I also love to think that when he says he performed on Broadway he's actually telling the truth but it was an extremely minor role and it didn't go well <3

[darkwood-sleddog]

Unleash your rage, please tell me all about the giant malamutes. Also I love your beasties, they’re so cute and you put a lot of effort into them and it shows!

Ohoho I have spoken about this many times before but since you asked so nicely....

Alaskan Malamutes are a type of Inuit freighting sled dog. Inuit sled dogs still bred and used by Indigenous people who have traditions in dog sledding look a very specific way and this includes size. There's a clear, straight line between the function of the dog (hauling heavy freight in cold climates) and the size of the dog.

Let's examine other Inuit sled dogs:

The Greenland Dog, one of the most isolated land race dogs in the world for example (in that its development was and is currently very isolated from admixture of European dogs). Size is quoted in their standard as: "Height: dogs: 58-68 cms (23-27 ins) at shoulder; bitches: 51-61 cms (20-24 ins) at shoulder.

Weight: dogs: 34-47.5 kgs (75-105 lbs), bitches: 27-41 kgs (60-90 lbs)."

Proportionally the dog should be longer than tall.

The Canadian Eskimo Dog (also known as the Canadian Inuit Dog or Qimmiq), is a rare sled breed due to the dog culls that occurred in the 1970s. Size is quoted in their standard as: "

Height: dogs 58-70 cms (23-27½ ins), bitches 50-60 cms (19½-23½ ins).

Weight: dogs 30-40 kgs (66-88lbs), bitches 18-30 kgs (40-66 lbs)."

The Alaskan Malamute has a complicated history, but can most accurately be described as an Inuit style freighting sled dog bred specifically for work in the Antarctic expeditions. Several things to note is that:

1.) a huge majority if not a majority of dogs that make up the founding of the breed are not from Alaska, but rather Eastern and Central Canada, mostly Labrador Huskies (a type of Canadian Inuit sled dog specifically from the Labrador Region) as well as a known Greenland Dog (Bessie).

Below: Labrador Huskies (yes they're still around!) from Northern Lights Dog Sledding:

2.) The standard for the Alaskan Malamute has been revised twice, most significant is the first revision which occurred after the studbooks were open to allow dogs of the M'Loot strain into registration due to the toll WWII work took on the original dogs (who were quite closely related).

3.) Three strains, or families of dogs, make up the modern Alaskan Malamute (Kotzebue (the original registered strain bred for the Antarctic), M'Loot (who were bigger in size and bred for companionship) and Hinman-Irwin (less a strain, more a handful of dogs owned by arctic explorers). This is significant information to understand because the while slight differences in these strains do exist, the dogs were so close in type they were breeding true during first generation admixture, were close enough in size, shape and overall form to be recognized as the same breed, and there are no pure strain dogs left today.

(Eva Seeley with four dogs from the first registered litter of Alaskan Malamutes including CH Gripp of Yukon. Parents were Yukon Jad and Bessie, a dog from Greenland).

The original Alaskan Malamute Standard has size as:

"Height: Of male dog averaging from 22 to 25 inches; of bitch averaging from 20 to 23 inches.

Weight: Of male dog averaging from 65 to 85 pounds; of bitch averaging from 50 to 70 pounds."

Prior to the M'Loot strain's inclusion into the breed registry the breeder of the strain, Paul Voelker lists his dogs as being: "mature dogs range from 23-26 inches at the shoulder and weigh 70-85 pounds".

(Paul Voelker with three M'Loot dogs above).

We know that many M'Loot dogs were larger than this, often exceeding 100 pounds much like my own dog, Sigurd who is 30" at the shoulder at 105 pounds (despite his Kotzebue heavy pedigree...), so seeing 110 pounds near the top of the LEAN WORKING WEIGHT would be an excessive animal by anybody breeding this dog's standards, but certainly not unachievable. Again, not desirable to Eva Seeley (founder of the Kotzebue strain, nor to Paul Voelker, founder of the M'Loot strain).

Because of this middle ground where both strains liked dogs around 85 pounds and 25 inches at the shoulder the standard was revised in 1960 to accommodate the inclusion of these slightly larger dogs. The standard now states: "There is a natural range in size in the breed. The desirable freighting sizes are: Males—25 inches at the shoulders—85 pounds. Females—23 inches at the shoulders—75 pounds."

Proportionally the dogs are longer than tall.

So while there are several different families of dogs that make up the founding of the breed there is only ONE Alaskan Malamute. There is no secondary "type" that is gigantic (120-140 pounds like people like to claim). There is not "standard" Alaskan Malamutes and "Giant" Alaskan Malamutes because 1.) the standard already allows for and encourages the natural size range in the breed which is quite varied. 2.) nobody breeding these dogs in the historical context was calling their strains "Giant Alaskan Malamutes".

So let's examine WHY people call their dogs "Giant Alaskan Malamutes".

The answer is simple: Marketing. People love giant dogs and often see them as status symbols (if you've ever been in a dog breed group where people are bragging about their dog's weight regardless of what shape that dog is in (often overweight) you know what I mean).

More nuanced is that freighting sled dogs like Malamutes, Qimmiq and Greenland Dogs look absolutely behemoth next to "normal" sled dogs like Alaskan Huskies (where 70 pounds is HUGE and 50 pounds is normal) or Siberians which are of a similar size to Alaskans). They're a large dog breed, but they're not giant in the range of actual giant breeds such as Irish Wolfhounds or Mastiffs etc.

Many people breeding "Giant" Alaskan Malamutes also falsely believe and/or tell their clients that their dogs are "pure M'Loot" and spout the mythology that true Alaskan Malamutes from Alaska way back in the day (which is a breed myth, they're not from Alaska remember) were HUGE. like 120-140 pounds huge and use this to justify the size of the dogs they breed (which are just backyard bred, oversized, sometimes not even oversized but just overweight individuals). This myth is easily proven false because it's not like the weight of Voelker's dogs are an unknown, we have heights and weights on many of them and they are very true to many modern "standard" Alaskan Malamutes today. One cannot even claim that the original indigenous dogs were massive because 1.) they didn't exist as explorers at the time often confirm in their writing that the indigenous dogs in Alaska were much the same as those being used across the arctic and into the east 2.) Inuit still use sled dogs today. Traditional Freighting Sled Dogs and we know what they look like and we know what their size is like. The myth that the Alaskan Malamute is some "lost dog breed" is false and takes agency away from Indigenous traditional mushers.

Additionally a huge majority of "Giant" Alaskan malamutes today can be broken down into two categories: those from North America and those from Asia.

"Giant" Alaskan Malamutes from North America will often come from very similar pedigrees. You will see a lot of Cascade, Wakon (particularly this kennel...claiming the dogs are 35" at the shoulders and nearly 200 pounds) and Kingfisher in these pedigrees. These dogs are often long haired, breeders within these lines will often breed long haired dogs purposely as many buyers want very fluffy dogs. Often the dogs are not any bigger than "standard" Alaskan Malamutes, but some can be very big (there is rumor of non-malamute giant breed admixture occurring in the 1980's). Most people breeding within these pedigrees are not necessarily doing the fullest extend of health testing, but it is thankfully becoming more common (can we please for the love of gods tho get people to test more than just hips please). Some dogs in this pedigree type are often accomplish weight pull dogs (because long miles are not being asked of them....) and may or may not be of showable quality, just from a breeder that prioritizes size and breed mythology bs over everything else:

They range from functional and pretty breed standard looking:

To what the fuck is this:

These above dogs are not a "type" of malamute, just dogs with similar pedigrees no different than any other. There are always going to be dogs within a breed that share close pedigree with each other, it's literally just part of how this works. They are not separate unless you want to talk about hush hush paper hanging.

"Giant" Alaskan Malamutes in Eastern Asia unfortunately bear the brunt of the breed's lack of ethics. These dogs are bred HUGE in size, overly loose, overly flewey and the breeders are not shy about the fact that they've bred Tibetan Mastiff into these dogs to achieve the size and hair level. These dogs are bred as pure status symbols and are not getting proper health testing done. I have never once seen a dog from these types of breeders do anything remotely functional. This is a dog that is bred for looks ONLY:

I'm sure you've all see this video (screen shot shown below) of a dog that is absolutely suffering:

So when it comes to "Giant" Alaskan Malamutes there are some simple truths:

1.) They do not exist historically in Inuit freighting sled dogs

2.) Breeders in the mid-century, regardless of the strain of Malamute they preferred liked dogs around 85 pounds 25 inches at the shoulders.

3.) There are potentially hung papers within the breed histories of "Giant" dogs that may account for their overly large size.

4.) They are not a separate "sub-breed" or a different type of Malamute. They are simply all Alaskan Malamutes as the breed's standard allows for variation in size amongst the dogs.

5.) In my opinion breeding dogs overly large disrespects the purpose and function of the breed.

6.) Larger than average individuals can exist and often are produced from responsible breeders when breeding two ideal size or even smaller than ideal sized parents together. This is because genetics is complicated (Sigurd's mom was 80 pounds and his dad 25.5", 73 pounds. Sigurd is 30" and 105 pounds).

[emoprincey]

What's in the box?

Author’s note: Hello hello, I wrote a silly little thing based on the incorrect quotes video XD

Relationships: Romantic logicality

Patton was up to something. Logan could tell - of course he could, they’d been married for six years, he knew all of Patton's tells.

When he'd laid all of their mugs out on the lawn, he'd been suspiciously quiet all day, only humming the Flintstones theme every so often until he came into the kitchen and said, "it's a little muggy out today."

So, when Patton came through the front door whistling nonchalantly, Logan knew something was going on.

Patton had been home from work a little late, with only a cryptic text about going to help out one of his colleagues as explanation. Logan had decided to pass the time reading a book on the sofa.

"Did you have a good day, dear?" He greeted when he heard the door open.

"Mm-hm!" Patton called from the entryway.

Another tell. It was rare that Patton didn't immediately rush to greet Logan when he came in from work, dying to tell him all about his day.

Logan carefully marked his place in his book and put it on the coffee table, then went to investigate.

Patton was in the entryway, his shoes still on, holding an absurdly large cardboard box.

Before Logan could speak, Patton gave him a bright, if slightly guilty smile. "You remember Marlene from my work, right?" Patton said.

Logan thought for a moment. "The woman from the Christmas party with the orange blazer and that obnoxious One Direction song as her ringtone? Yes, I remember her vividly."

"Well, her dog just had puppies!" Patton exclaimed. "They weren’t expecting it at all, Bessie didn't even show any signs of pregnancy, but a couple of weeks ago she had a litter of six! Marlene and her parents don't have space for six more dogs in their house so the puppies needed somewhere to go, and-"

"Patton," Logan interrupted warily, already sensing where this conversation was going. "What's in the box?"

Patton's smile faltered, looking a more like a grimace. The kind of grimace he gave when he'd just been caught.

Logan took a step forward. "What's in the box, Patton?"

"I think you know," Patton mumbled, holding it out to him.

Logan peered into the box, and inside were six adorable golden labrador puppies, all curled up together. If anyone asked later, Logan would tell them that his heart absolutely did not melt in that moment.

"Well, I... suppose you can't really go back on it, now that you said you'd take them," Logan said. "How much did they cost?"

"Oh, nothing," Patton said. "Marlene just wanted them to go to a good home. She also gave me a bag of their food and leant me one of Bessie's old beds for them to use tonight."

"Right, well, we'll have to go shopping and get some more things for them first thing tomorrow," Logan said. "Let's see, they'll need a bowl each, plenty of toys, some proper beds, and- what?"

He noticed Patton was staring at him, a fond and look in his eyes.

"Nothing," Patton replied, shaking his head. "I'm just happy that you're happy, sweetheart."

[lazyrants]

Lazy Scouts (prod 104)

Original airdate: August 26, 2004

Story by Mike Weiss, Magnus Scheving

Written by Noah Zachary, Rocky Garibaldi, Magnus Scheving

Directed by Magnus Scheving

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Mark Read, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Ronald Binion, Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Heather Asch

Lazy Scouts is the fourth episode of LazyTown produced, so this was of course prone to mistakes. But does it make up for it with the plot and music?

The episode begins with a recycled opening from 'Sleepless in LazyTown', with Sportacus going to bed. However, the title card is not night time in this episode. Funny thing is, you can see the first mistake as soon as there is a zoom in the title card. After it zooms in, there is a tiny frame of the airship where it is actually day and not night.

Anywho, the episode opens with Sportacus brushing his teeth and jumping into his pod ready to visit LazyTown. Stephanie is going scouting with the kids and is packing her bag. Milford tries to bring a buncha stuff that could be useful, like toenail clippers (you don't want your feet to be uncomfy while walking up a mountain) and a curling iron (gotta make sure ya look gooooddd), but Stephanie decline.

Anyways, she gets outta the house and blows the horn to get the kids ready. Robbie is in his fluffy chair, sucking his thumb with a bowl of packing peanuts (what an intimidating villian!) and the kids wake him up. He declares that he will not let those kids ruin his day. But at this point, he should know that it would just take as less much effort to put some orange fluff in his ears and ignore them.

So anyways, while the scouts are trying to go somewhere, it turns out that the LazyTown kids (excluding Stephanie) are really unprepared scouts. Trixie leads them the wrong way (and also wears her what the wrong way), and Ziggy has a lollipop. Anyways, Trixie and Stephanie are disagreeing on which way to go (sworn besties), and in comes Scottie the Scoutmaster.

Look at him, couldn't you tell by his very real looking scout uniform? Ziggy says they're going on a hike but Scottie says that's for dogs and chickens. He offers to tell them how to make up lies. Stephanie wants to do stuff like help old ladies cross the road, and Scottie says that he's done it 100 times. Then he sees Bessie crossing the road, stops the cars (Sportacus lives in an airship, all the puppets are scouting with Stephanie and Robbie, Milford is probably doing mayor work and the cat can't drive, so who is driving those cars..?) then crosses Bessie over.. 100 times.

I mean, you gotta appreciate the dedication. Then Bessie tumbles over. HILARIOUS! So, anyways, Robbie presents the cool badges, which are obviously to lure the kids into doing lazy and bad stuff. Luckily Stephanie notices that. When they do the scout salute, they instead do a yawn.

Stephanie says that this is not what scouting is about and Robbie says this is Lazy Scouts. Then they perform the song 'Lazy Scouts', which I kind of find annoying. Then again, GetLazy's name derived from here. Anyways, when Stephanie brings up food and shelter, Robbie gives a badge to anyone who ignores the 'girl with the pink hair and bad attitude'.

Anyways, when Stephanie talks about going hiking, Robbie and the scouts go on a 3 second walk to a tree. But Stephanie is annoyed (as she should be). Robbie tells her that she should go home if she wants and Ziggy would have came with her if Trixie hadn't given him a lollipop.

So, anyways Stephanie is really really sad and Milford sees her and he asks if he forgot anything (HILARIOUS MOMENT) and Stephanie tells him everything. Milford has the right person to call - Sportacus. Thus commences a wholesome scouting montage. I love the music in this montage SO MUCH it pisses me off there isn't an official release.

Sportacus asks where Stephanie's friends are and she says that they wanted to scout differently from her and Sportacus says that just because she disagrees with them doesn't mean they aren't friends. He further explains this argument by saying that if he liked jumping in mud puddles (I knew this show had some relation to Peppa Pig, not to mention the pink hair!) that they would still be friends.

So, anyways, after that talk, it starts to become windy and Ziggy doesn't feel so safe. Robbie however is snoring away. I think if the puppets were sane they could tell RIGHT AWAY that Robbie is the scout master. It becomes so windy that Stephanie's scouting hat and Ziggy's lollipop fly away.

Meanwhile Stingy's car rolls away (better then him rolling away). While Milford is worrying about Stephanie, Sportacus brings her safely. Then Bessie barges in and her hair looks absolutely crazy (LOL!).

Ziggy's lollipop is even stuck to her back. So, Pixel is hanging onto what Milford thinks is a giant soup bowl (but is really a satellite dish) and Sportacus saves him, Stingy and Robbie. After his hat and mustache fly away his disguise is revealed.

Robbie was not expecting to be tied by a rope, saved by Sportacus on a windy day. So I was right, it would've taken shorter to just.. ignore them. Meanwhile, after a day of arguments, Trixie and Stephanie save each other then they become best friends for the rest of the show.

Anyways, Robbie is brought in and everyone has some hot cocoa.. with marshmallows. Stingy is peeking at Robbie's cup hinting to let him have it (lol). Anyways, the weather suddenly becomes great and they all go outside. Sportacus tells Robbie that it is a bad idea to be unprepared.

Then Robbie starts rambling about how he IS ALWAYS prepared (didn't he sing "being ready isn't good"?) until Trixie, Ziggy and Stingy blow air behind him. Then he hilariously yells and climbs over the wall. They then sing the Bing Bang song.

THE END!

Honestly, that was an okay episode. The story was good, Robbie's disguise was obvious and the featured song was mediocre.

6/10

[satelliteduster]

if i had to give myself an Actual furry timeline itd be a slow burn of shit from childhood to 14 years of age when i finally fell down the rabbithole:

disney, looney tunes, all the "classic" talking animal stuff (toddler)

the animal designs from fairly odd parents + wulf from danny phantom (maybe 4/5)

nickelodeon: ren & stimpy (sorry.), catdog, the angry beavers, catscratch & the mighty b bc i really liked happy (bessie's dog)

disney: american dragon. that's it

cartoon network: this one's weird bc early cn for me (dexters lab, ppl, samurai jack, ben 10, generator rex) was more Artistic inspiration than talking animal inspiration. ill include it here for posterity

sonic the hedgehog. ofc (7/8)

the wide swath of smaller talking-animal based shows on jetix, cartoon network, discovery kids, etc. like yin yang yo, brandy and mr whiskers, mlp, almost naked animals, two stupid dogs, i am weasel, etc.

tuff puppy (sorry.)

adventure time (jake & cake) & regular show (mordecai and rigby) (10, when i started drawing)

the entire digimon catalogue from adventure to hunters (this was a big one.)

keroro gunso (sigh.)

summer wars AND wolf children (i got into them at the same time)

bojack horseman (12. i think this was the tipping point)

and undertale (13.)

and then when i turned 14 i made my very first furry oc. and here we are about 6 years later

[sea-owl]

Can you create an au where Eloise just does dramatic things?

I love it.

What else does she do? Enter Newton in a dog show without Kate or Anthony knowing but they only find out when he makes the papers for winning?

Anon, that's the source material. Lmao, but ok, let's see what we can come up with.

She hasn't entered Newton into a dog show. But, when she and Phillip got together, she enters the Crane family dog Bessie into a dog show, with the twins as her assistant trainers. They take home first place.

Eloise tries to surprise kiss Penelope all the time if neither are in a relationship. Penelope won't let her. It's like she has a sixth sense for when Eloise tries it. Eloise insists on trying at least once, saying that it could be the answer for them. Penelope knows they'll never see each other more than sisters. Eloise is so betrayed when she learned that Penelope asked Colin to kiss her. Oh, you'll kiss my brother but not me!?

[just-shipgirl-thoughts]

Abyss

A WIP prologue of a fic I'm hoping to post someday. I'm putting it here so I can get some early feedback for revisions, and also because I like watching numbers tick up.

Yes, before you ask, it is a shipgirl fic for Kantai Collection. Yes, it's also a Dishonored crossover.

:>

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The sun rose over Dunwall’s bay. 

Atop the high white walls of the aristocratic quarter, two did sit and converse.

“Do they not unnerve you?”

A scoff.

Bellowed low did the mournful calls of a wounded whale echo across the water, sunlight glinting off the blood-sullied ships calling their fair port home.

A sigh.

“Of course.”

They turned their eyes away from the bay, and the victorious hunting horns sounded.

Crimson splattered against decks as the cheers of many working men went up into the air, the scent of salt and the stench of iron pervading through the air. 

The whaling trawlers stood still on the water, towering over the smaller boats in the docks, waves slowly lapping up against the sides of their looming steel hulls, as ichor from their crew’s latest prey dripped, dripped, dripped down onto their decks, flowing down the sides like a macabre curtain. 

Gore pooled into the bay, and it was whaling season in Dunwall again.

Deckhands whistled as crates and blubber were hauled ashore, bosun’s ear-bleeders and wounded animal calls drifting across the port, interjoining into a discordant chorus of ship’s horns and voices high over low as the bustle of the returning hunt began.

“Voids, just lookit the size of ‘er! We’re eatin’ good tonight lads!”

Eyes roved out over the water, stormy grey and gazing off into places elsewhere.

“Can barely believe it myself I say, she’s nearly bigger’n me bloody house! What a beauty of a beast.”

Smoke drifted into the air from a pipe, attached to a pair of cracked lips hidden behind a scruffy ill-maintained beard.

“Daniels, keep yer mitts off the crates! If I find even a piece o’ that blubber missin’, I’ll take my cut outta yer hide, you good-fer-nothin’ yellow liver!”

Calloused and bloody hands gripped the railing at the bow of a ship, the limbs they were attached to hidden by a black wind-weathered overcoat, whale-leather exterior shining under the heavy gaze of the sun. 

“You keep yer hands away from that Bessie or I’ll have words with you at the end of my gun, you salt-ridden dogs! Away, away with ye, to yer posts!”

Captain Gregor Hobson of the Red Lady’s Hymn sighed, raking a hand backwards through his hair, whale-oil pale with a meager speckling of grey here and there. 

“Oi, Claggard! Ease up on ‘em, no reason to get so worked up this early when we’ve just brought in a haul like this.”

His voice was tired and exasperated, smokey and slow like a cask of fine liquor, or a trail of burning gunpowder leading to an ammunition storage, depending on his mood that day.

The first mate stood pinned in place, before quickly nodding and scarpering off without a word, not without one final glare at the smug deckhands.

“And fer the rest of you, if I find even so much as a hand's width of that blubber missing, I’ll feed you to it. Get back to work, the lot o’ you!” He turned, and the crew took to their stations with all the speed of a man being chased into hell without so much as a backglance.

“Blimey, he’s terrifyin’.”

“Aye. He was a sarge, fer the navy. Tyvia, I think. Sunk near a dozen ships himself and ate a man’s heart out on the deck during the wars, from what I heard tell of.”

“Malarkey, the both of you. He’s an old sea-dog, nothin’ more, nothin’ less. Just keep yer hands away from the whales if you want to keep ‘em. He’s ruddy well good with that sword, and I don’t fancy losin’ any more fingers than I already have.”

Hobson scoffed, turning his pipe over the port with a good thunk against the rail for good measure, reflective mood soured as a heavy frown worked its way onto his sea-wizened face. 

“Excuse me.”

He cast an eye over his shoulder.

Another sigh, barely suppressed as the frown dropped from his face like a slick trout.

A thin man stood behind him, face pointier than a shark’s with twice the teeth to match, eyes narrowed down to dagger points and holding a watch in his hands, impatiently checking the time and tapping his foot.

A shining brass badge pinned to his vest shone in the rays

“Mornin’, Harbormaster. What can I do you for this fine day?” He greeted, turning and leaning back against the railing nonchalantly, tipping his hat up. 

The Master looked down his nose from his head’s perch upon his far too spindly body with a sneer.

“Yes, yes, good morning and all that, we hardly have time for pleasantries. State your name and import, I have important places to be and this isn’t one of them.”

His voice was a mixture between coarse grating sand between his ears and a poor imitation of a noble’s nasal dulcet tones.

Hobson only narrowly kept from rolling his eyes at the behavior. Slap a new accent on, think you’re taller’n everybody else and suddenly you’re the talk of the Tower. 

Still, as much as it grated, the Harbormaster was a rung above him in this twisted labyrinth of a society, so he played along for appearances sake. 

“Of course, of course, wouldn’t want to keep you, I’m sure you’ve got some very important things to be doin’. Just follow me and we can be done with it right quick,” he assured, tone falser than his bosun’s teeth, smiling wide like a whale waiting for its next prey to wander into its maw.

The Master’s head inclined, chest puffing out, though he straightened himself out before it could become too obvious, glancing about none too obviously.

Hobson pretended he didn’t see it, whistling a jaunt as he guided the man away and down to the hold, past the whale strung up in the crane above them. 

Hook, line and sinker with these types, every time, like leadin’ a rat to bread.

An hour later found the man off of his ship, wandering away with his hands stuffed into his pockets, probably to bugger whatever poor sod he set his eyes on next that was within his reach.

The Red Lady’s Hymn sailed for no company, and no sponsor. 

To a man like the Harbormaster, it would’ve been easy prey for an ego boost, bossing about independent sailors on their own ships from the safety of his position, conversely to the myriad of trawlers moored in the bay marked as Royal Hunters, the biggest group of sailing shills this side of the continent. 

Hobson watched until the slimy eel disappeared into the throng of sailors before turning back out across the bay, blowing out a long exhausted heave, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to rid them of the salt’s sting. 

The Hymn hummed under his hands, engines whining with electrical power under the strain of the immense creature above the deck, groaning as blood sluggishly dripped from harpoon wounds along its flank. 

“I know girl, I know. Just one more good haul and you can rest,” he whispered, waiting for the humming to settle before striding off towards the bridge, barking orders to the crew as the church bells further inlands began to toll.

Below the deck, buried deep within the guts of the hulking steel beast of a ship, was the Hymn’s twin hearts, glowing as the whale-oil within churned and sparked with arcane energy, rusted screws rattling in their places as the engineers did their best to sooth the beleaguered machines. 

The Red Lady’s Hymn was ancient, by modern day whaling trawler standards. 

It wouldn’t be out of the question for Anton Sokolov to have walked the Hymn’s deck himself when it was just WT-032, the last of the Driscol class ships, marking the beginning of a new line as the trawlers were further refined.

Three crews had manned the decks of the Hymn in her time, and all but one of them had met grisly fates at sea at the hands of beasts unnamed and unknown. 

And yet, every time, the Hymn had sailed back into Dunwall to do her duty as always, towed in by tugs, or, in the incident that earned her the moniker of Red Lady’s Hymn, by the tides themselves. 

It had been a foggy morning then, all those years ago, bitter winter come to lay its weary bones into the bay as ice crept around the shores, and WT-032 had been missing at sea for three weeks. 

The Watch had all but given up on it by the beginning of the second week, and the only ones still looking for it in any capacity were sailors wary of happening upon its wreck. 

Then, in the waning days of the Month of High Cold, a ship had sailed into port, sluggishly maneuvering into dock until her hull had ran aground the shore with an awful shrieking noise, almost touching the nearest house with her prow until she rasped to a stop, barely a finger’s width away from shattering its window. 

The Harbormaster then, a crabby old man with little to say beyond poison to spit at younger folk, had come running out of his hovel with his face twisted into an angry rictus and shouted for the captain of the vessel to step onto shore, then abruptly fell silent. 

The hull loomed over him, red ichor drip, drip, dripping out of her scuppers and onto his face, filling his nostrils with the heavy cloying scent of iron as it dribbled down his chin. 

The carcass of a whale still hung above the abandoned vessel, bereft of all life as it slowly shifted in the wind, sending creaks rattling down the cranes holding it aloft. 

Blood congealed into the cold oak of the deck, spattered about in great pools and littered with splinters, some planks sticking out like jagged teeth, and others split in two, like the steps of a mighty giant had sundered them apart. 

No matter where the Watch had searched, after the calls had gone up, no crew were to be found, corpses or otherwise.

It was like they had been plucked from the decks by the hands of the void itself, leaving it to drift away on the winds, pulled along by the tides like a lost child by the hand of a mother.

That day, in the cold of Dunwall’s winter, the dock-goers had gathered and listened as the vessel’s engines sang, like a ghostly siren’s chorus, solemn and pained as it strained to keep itself going on what little fuel it had left.

The sailors would drift home that morning, minds elsewhere and attention paid to places far away as the song echoed across the waves, the blood drip, drip, dripping off of her deck and into the bay, seemingly never drying no matter how long it stained the decks, or so they say.

WT-032 earned the moniker Red Lady’s Hymn that day, for the color of her crimson shawl and the notes of her sorrowful song. 

As much of an curse as she was a blessing, she was truly a terrible and wonderful thing to see over the horizon, hull bloodied with whale-gore more often than not, her song whispering across the waves as the silhouette of a mighty beast caught in her crane wavered against the setting of the sun beneath the sea, like wet paint running down a canvas. 

As the moon came up over Gristol and colored the ocean in a ghostly pale blue, the Red Lady’s Hymn set out for her next hunt, skies cloudless overhead and waves calm beneath her hull.

Captain Gregor kept a watchful eye over the sea, hands steady on the wheel as a quiet tune carried over the deck in chorus with the humming of the Hymn’s heart. 

He turned slightly, away from the windows, just enough for the glow of the moon to leave the corner of his vision, grasping for the lighter in his pocket and deftly lighting the pipe perched precariously on the wooden surface beside him, lifting it to his mouth and turning back to face the deck.

He stilled.

It was quiet. 

He leaned slightly over, casting his gaze about for his crew and finding nothing but air. 

His heart slowed as his eyes narrowed, setting the pipe down. 

He thumbed open the lock on the furthest right window, before calling out in a clear voice, “Boys, how’re the seas lookin’?”

The only answer was the waves, gently lapping against the Hymn’s hull, song eerily silent. 

Unnerved, he called again, voice unsure, to no avail. 

His eyes narrowed further, and his hands itched for his sword.

Turning on the spot, slowing the ship and leaving the wheelhouse, he opened the bulkhead and stepped out into the cool night air, breezeless and still.

Closing the heavy cast door behind him, he strided down the steps, whale-leather boots click, clack, clicking against the deck.

Two paces.

No sign of anybody.

His heart beat faster, like a war drum thudding in his ears. 

Four paces. 

“Boys?” He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

No answer.

Six paces.

His back was nearly against the aft’s railing now, the Hymn’s heart still quiet beneath his feet, his voice echoing across the waves. 

Eight paces. 

The Hymn sang. 

One, low, haunting note, like the death-call of a whale in her last throes, reverberating in his chest as it froze like ice, heart dropping like lead into his gut as it crescendoed, louder, louder, the engine’s whining almost reaching an unearthly wail, before- 

Death, yawning wide open, like a cavernous maw, a black and cold abyss.

A hat hit the deck without a sound, a scream evaporating into the air, never making it out of his mouth as more than a rattling gasp. 

When the dawn rose over Dunwall’s bay once more, and the hunt once again returned victorious to the bay only to find its waves silent and songless, the Red Lady’s Hymn was not there to greet it.

______________________________________________________________

Abyss

noun.

A deep or seemingly bottomless cavern.

“A rope led down into the abyss.”

______________________________________________________________

[ailendolin]

🥀 for Fanny and George as well as Isabelle and Francis

Hi anon! I'm only going to answer this for Fanny and George because, as I've mentioned before, I'm not invested enough in side characters like Francis and Isabelle to come up with headcanons for them.

Headcanon ask game can be found here.

🥀 - Angst

Fanny knew what George was up to when he bought home one pet after another. When he got her Dante a year into their marriage it was a sweet gesture, meant to make her feel at home in Button House after her old dog Bessie had passed away and her loss left her inconsolable. But when Jasmine the Siamese was placed into her care a year later, Fanny became suspicious. After all, George hated cats. It turned out he'd lost a bet (at least that's what Mildred told her), and Fanny supposed the cat was lucky he had been too inebriated to even think about throwing it in the river on the way home.

Next came Jasper the falcon - George's first attempt to get her to spend more time outside. When that didn't have the desired result, he got her Montague - anything to have the house to himself for a few hours every day without having to worry about anyone walking in on him. Back then, Fanny had been grateful he'd allowed her to have so many pets, too blind or perhaps unwilling to see the gestures for what they truly were: desperate measures to keep doing what he'd always done - having his way with the butler, groundskeeper and whoever else happened to be male and working for them without having to worry about the consequences.