#cavorting critters

[josphitia]

Josie's Cow HRT Journey Part 6 - Snake and the Cow

Nobody wanted to leave this congregation of creatures. Everyone was having the time of their life in an environment of pure acceptance. There was so much exchanging of phone numbers. But this was just a patchwork fix to keep these bonds close-knit. Everyone wanted a more concrete solution to solidifying this group of wayward animals. Luckily, the blue-scaled Lamia who had organized this get-together had a great idea: To keep in touch easily, she would create a Chaos server for us all to cavort in. We gave her our emails and she would reach out to us when it was created.

A week had passed since then and my thoughts kept drifting to that day. My body was still accepting the hormones but there was little progress that had been made in a single week’s time. My snout was growing but not fully there, though you could tell I had a cute pink stamp forming at the end. My ears were tapering but still very much humanoid. My horns were disappointingly small… My fingernails were completely black now and had grown thick. But, the one thing that surprised me was how fast my feet were changing! To the point I wasn't even comfortable calling them feet anymore! My toes were fusing together along with my nails into a hard, black hoof. Not fully formed but enough that I was walking on what appeared to be “tippy toes” to everyone else. I was so happy seeing these changes every day!

But I was lonely… My husband was still on a business trip across the country. We would message each other when we could, but it was little compensation for the lack of his presence. It did not fill the need I had to talk to people on the same road as me… I was too shy to exchange numbers with anyone at the support group, so the eventual server was my lifeline to keeping in touch with the numerous animals I had met. Before bed I received an email that, considering the name “BlueSerpentVibes”, I had a guess as to who it could have been. Within the message was a simple hyperlink that said “Invite” that I clicked, as it opened my Chaos application on my desktop. Yet as excited as I had been to finally talk with all of the critters, I just didn’t have the mental bandwidth that night. It was too anxiety inducing seeing the deluge of messages in the “Introductions” tab and the many messages that were quickly filling up the “General” tab. So, I went to sleep, feeling a little guilty at myself that I didn’t stay up to introduce myself. But soon my thoughts drifted away into the realm of sleep. 

And so roughly 6 hours later I awoke to a *ping* and 7 friend requests. I eagerly accepted them all, staring and admiring the growing collection of people who were happy to actually continue talking to me. I wasn’t used to that. The server itself was still moving at such a speed I could barely understand who was talking. It seemed like everyone already knew each other... But I wanted to atleast make myself known to the server at large; that I had joined and was eager to talk to people, even if the chat itself was moving too fast for me to be comfortable in. I wrote something short, with a hastily taken selfie, and posted it in Introductions:

“Hi, I’m Josie! My pronouns are she/her. I’m taking CowHRT! I’m so excited to talk to everyone here, I had a great time at the support group. Feel free to DM me!”

Then I waited. But it wasn’t long before I had someone sending me a message. 

Gio-“Boop! : D 

Sooooooo”

Uh, wow okay. That was quick. Didn’t really know what to say except to follow suit, I guess:

Josie-“Sooooo”

Gio-“You were the short haired cow in the support group right?”

Someone actually remembered me! That was a surprise. I didn’t really know how to proceed apart from small talk, but that’s how all friendships start I suppose.

Josie-“Uh yeah, that was me. Although maybe you’re thinking of the other cow that was there?”

Gio-“Oh nah you look completely different. I mean, both cows, but I recognize ya from your selfie. So, how’ve you been?”

Josie-“Well good, I guess. Been looking forward to catching up with the people I met then. Although I’m sorry… Your profile picture’s just of a mountain. Could you remind me who you were there?”

Gio-”Oh, I had green hair and scales :D I was hanging around the goat for a while before we mingled some.” 

Josie-”Oh the king cobra guy!”

Gio-”...king cobra guy? Don’t remember the name huh.”

Josie-”Uhm, sorry…”

Gio-”It’s okay. The person you were talking to was Scalin.”

Josie-”Okies, hi Scalin!”

Gio-”No you’re talking to Gio right now.”

Josie-”Uh, okay sorry. Are you using their account or…?”

Gio-”Oh no this is our Chaos account. But you’re talking to Gio right now, not Scalin. Scalin’s in the back. My pronouns are Drae/draer/draer/draers/draeself.” 

Josie-”Oh thank you! I'll do my best to address you as such :3 As for Scalin, do you mean that he's like, in the back of the house or are you at work or?”

Gio-”Oh. You don’t know? We’re a system.”

Josie-”What does that mean?”

Gio sent a pluralpedia link that described plurality and systems. It was a fascinating read, though admittedly I only skimmed it so I could get back to the conversation.

Josie-”Okay, so that’s interesting. So, I was talking to someone who’s a part of your system then?”

Gio-”Yeah Scalin was the one who was at the support group. He’s taking Cobra HRT though he does think it’s funny how you referred to him as ‘King Cobra Guy.’ But right now you’re talking to me, Gio. I would be considered the host. Well co-host. Usually Heath is up here too.”

Josie-”Well what would you like to talk about? As happy as I am to talk about plurality and systems I don’t think that’s why you started messaging me.” 

Gio-”Hm. Well I was thinking of hosting a movie theater get together at the place where I work. But I wanted to get some opinions first. Scalin was saying you two had talked about movies and upcoming ones. It wouldn’t be for another month or so though. But I thought it would be fun to host a get together around some sort of activity rather than just going to the support group again!”

 Gio-”Also I gotta brb.”

Josie-”Uh okay.”

A few minutes passed before he, or they I suppose, started typing again.

Heath-”Salutations! Pleased to be back on the air~!”

Josie-”Whu? We were just talking. Unless, okay. Are you another… headmate? Alter?”

Heath-”I am indeed. The nomenclature that I am most often referred to as is Heath, though I’ve been known to go by different names such as Alastor or the Radio Demon.”

Josie-”Okay… Well, hi Heath. I was just talking to Gio about him hosting a get together at his movie theater.”

Heath-”Oh I know! I was watching that boorish conversation. But a get together in-front of one of those noisy ‘silver screens’ might be quite fun indeed. The only obstacle we can foresee is the matter of transportation. However I might have just the remedy to that conundrum.”

Josie-”Oh? And what’s the remedy to that?”

Heath-”Why I can’t just tell you! It’s something to be experienced! Enjoyed! But even before all that, there’s a simple question I have to ask… Do we have a deal?”

Josie-”Well I mean I wanna hang out with you yeah! You, or I guess Scalin, seemed really cool and I wanna hang with him more. So I guess yeah we have a deal? What now?”

Heath-”One moment.”

Josie-”Okay…” 

A few moments passed before a static covered, tall antlered fellow with scarlet red hair and a similarly colored suit stuck his hand out from my computer monitor! He yanked my arm and dragged me through the TV!

As soon as I opened my eyes I was on a jade colored mountaintop while the antlered man looked down upon me with a devilish, sharp-toothed smile.

“Welcome to our humble abode little bovine” he said, holding out a hand but never offering to help me up. I picked myself up and brushed off the… snow? It was a sort of white powdery substance that clung to my body. At a loss for words, I simply looked around at my newfound location.

A large dragon suddenly bellowed “Oh hell Heath did you soulbound someone!? Is that Josie!? WHAT DID YOU DO”

“Oh hey Josssie cool you’re here WAIT” exclaimed a tall snakefolk.

”Hm.” was all that a rather humanoid figure spoke. 

I stared at the figures before me. A dark scaled green dragon of considerable size looked down upon me with an expression of feral worry. A tan & black scaled snakefolk, of the King Cobra variety, had an exasperated look upon his face, equal parts concern and anger. And an older gentleman wearing a dark green coat and balancing himself on a cane whose handle appeared to be a stylized charizard. Even though I hadn't met them in these forms, I could hazard a guess that the Dragon was Gio and the Cobra was Scalin. I had no idea who the older gentleman was though…

”What, and how, are you even doing here?” spoke the green jacketed man.

”Uhhh I have no idea??? Where am I???” I responded in bewilderment. 

“Well you were all talking about inviting her so I just thought this would be the quickest and most efficient way!” Heath said in a surprisingly upbeat manner.

The dragon lowered draer head towards the red haired demon and growled ”How the fuck did you know your magic would work.”

”I didn’t! But she made the deal and that sufficed.” spoke Heath happily in what I was beginning to understand was his trademark tone.

Scalin turned angrily towards me hissing “You made a deal. With. HEATH!?”

”Fuck me… How was I supposed to know!? It was just a message on Chaos!” I pleaded 

”Chaos isn't actually here right now.” Gen responded sardonically

Now I was the target of Gio’s ire and words as he growled ”A guy introduces themselves as the radio demon and you don’t question making a deal?”

Scared, all I could think to say was “I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A FIGURE OF SPEECH!”

”Well you're here now. Heath! We're at work, what are we supposed to do about this??” said the dragon, turning his attention back towards the demon.

Ever chipper, Heath calmly quipped ”Oh don't worry I was just having fun with the little cow. She'll be back in the quote unquote ‘real world and off the mountain in just a jiffy.”

Heath reached out his hand towards mine yet again. “We had a deal, remember~?”

”Josie, you can't do it. What's gonna happen next??” Scalin spoke, his hood flaring as he said this.

”I agree with Scalin. We can figure out how to fix this ourselves without his help.” Spoke the green dragon in a low, rumbling voice. 

But, despite their protests, I still reached out my hand. Heath grabbed it with a firm hold and once again the world around me tumbled as my vision was violently turned black. I opened my eyes to a “WHAT THE FUCK” from the same green haired man I had spoken to at the support group. 

“Oh. Hi?” was all I could think to say as drae breathed heavily in front of me, a mix of anger and surprise. My surroundings were that of a movie theater; and somehow I was sitting on the sticky floor behind the concession stand. 

“Gio?? What's wrong?” spoke a short balding man as he made his way towards us. “N-nothing sir, I uh.” 

I figured this would be the best chance to make myself known to this guy’s apparent boss. “Hi!” I said, jolting up from the floor. “I was just dropping by to say hi to… Gio! I'm his friend!”

“Hmmm” was all the man let out as he gave me a cursory, cautionary check over up and down. “Welp, I've been needing someone to work concessions! And by your looks you're one of them thur-rains like Gio right?”

“Uh. Yeah? You can tell I'm a cow?”

“Kinda hard to not notice little missy. And I have big plans, big plans. World's first Thur-rain friendly movie theater! You people will come from all over to watch films in my theaters! Now, do you want a job or not? Consider this your first day on the job. Gio can give you the rundown but. Gio! The main theater ends in 20 minutes, I'm gonna need you in there by then so it's clean before the 4 o’clock showing.”

As he walked away Gio gave me a quick rundown. That no matter who might be fronting, the outside knew draer only as Gio. Luckily it actually *was* Gio at this time in charge of the body so I wouldn't be misnaming my newfound friend. Gio and I got to formulating theories as to what just happened. How Heath pulled me from my home to his headspace and then to this theater. But, ultimately, we were at a bit of a loss. I had wanted to come visit anyways, just not like this… Heath had saved me the cost of a bus ticket but had stranded me halfway across the country. Gio had already scheduled with the others in the server that the meetup would be in a few weeks so everyone had a chance to arrange transportation. 

I looked up the prices and we both deduced it would cost me three times as much to head home and come back rather than just waiting out the three weeks here… I had already been using up my vacation time from work so I'd be able to be home during the onset of my transition… I was set to start again Monday. But, I called my work and took another 4 weeks off. Luckily I had quite the amount of sick time banked. And it seemed I had a job lined up here for me so I could at least pay for my own hotel and essentials. 

The rest of the day was spent haphazardly serving popcorn and drinks to waves of hungry customers. The boss was just happy to have a new face to speak his eccentricities towards. I could tell by the eye rolls of my new coworkers these were all diatribes they had heard before. The day went by surprisingly quickly, actually, and before I knew it Gio was helping me to clock out and offered to drive me to the nearest hotel. 

The car ride was full of the usual conversation topics of a newly forming friendship, if one created under unusual circumstances. Favorite foods, favorite music, commiserating on the evils of capitalism, those sorts of things. Drae dropped me off outside the hotel with a half-hug and a goodbye. But before drae drove off I could see a wide smile creep across Gio’s face and a thought permeated my mind. I knew that my previous encounter with Heath would not be my last.

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Josie's Cow HRT Journey

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King Cobra HRT Month 1.5

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Hope you enjoyed Part 6! Created with the help of @thecrystalmountainsystem ! They created and supplied the art as well as helping with the general structure of this chapter. Check out their own Animal HRT series: Cobra HRT!

Thanks for looking!

[friend-crow]

Sorry for spamming critter videos. I hadn't realized just how much cavorting was going on out there.

[mice-rats-daily]

Today’s rat is the rat from the Cavorting Critters sculpture in Milwaukee, Wisconsin!

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Well, well, well, look at you! My Dear, you are back on top of the world! What a picture! How splendid! Hallelujah!

New friends to cavort with, wild critters sensing your confidence, and children holding you in awe. Laughter ringing in your ears, happy tears streaming down your face, and arms aching from all those hugs. My goodness, if some of your old friends could see you now,  they'd faint.

You've been visualizing, haven't you?

Beaming for you,

  The Universe



[beautifulbizarremagazine]

INSIDE ISSUE 31 // "Theatrically absurd imaginings are this creative visionary’s specialty. His preposterously endearing Franken-creatures revel in a post-apocalyptic domain that is devoid of the long shadow of humanity. What may have made perfect sense to exacting minds intent on demystifying the secrets of the universe has now been eclipsed by inexplicable possibilities. As the cavorting critters at the other end of the Valladolid, Spain-based artist’s paintbrush demonstrate, it’s just a matter of time before the freaks shall inherit the Earth-like entity." Read about @jm.aguado and his work in Issue 31 of Beautiful Bizarre Magazine.⁣ ⁣ Get your copy at https://ift.tt/IUsDuk [link in our profile] or from one of our Stockists worldwide.⁣ ...⁣ posted on Instagram - https://instagr.am/p/CIleBaRLBy6/

[labyrinth-magic]

"Camp Life" Night life is Star life. Begins at Midnight. Up with the singing critters, Magic happens in the wee hours. The best stories compose themselves Where the muses gather ~ Up in the rafters On stages At art tables In radios And the rhythm of dancing feet Beneath starry skies Among cavorting campers. ~ by Karen A Szklany * Wrote this poem for my son while he was at summer camp for 2 weeks, and sent it to him.

[too-hot-to-hoot]

Hold it right there, Partner!

Do you need to: 🛁 Shower 💈 Brush teeth, comb hair, and trim nails 👚 Put on clean clothes, lotion, and deodorant?

Do you need to: 🥣 Eat a full, balanced meal 🥤 Drink water 💊 Take your meds 💤 Get a good night's sleep?

Do you need to: 🏠 Do dishes and laundry, sweep, pick up trash 🛒 Organize and restock necessities 📖 Do schoolwork and/or job-related stuff

Do you need to:🔋 Charge devices ⏰ set clock, 📅 check calendar 🚗 get gas 💳 pay bills, 🔑 lock the doors 🥪 pack lunch 📬 read mail 👩‍⚕️ make appointments, and so on...?

That's great! Now did you: ⚽ Do some cardio 🥊 strength train 🧘 Stretch 👟 Go for a walk?

Did you: ⛱️ Get some fresh air and sunlight 🌻 Enjoy nature 🚲 Try a change of scenery 💓 Relieve any pent-up sexual frustration?

Did you: ☎️ Talk to your friends and family 😺 Take care of your pets 🌱 Take care of your plants?

Did you: 🐦 Feed birds, plant flowers, release bugs outside, recycle, try not to fuck up the planet too much 💌 Do something nice for someone?

Did you: 🎨 Create something 🔬 Learn something 🌶️ Try something new 📚 Take a break from social media 🎼 Listen to your playlist ♟️ Engage your brain

☮️ Set aside some quiet time 🖊️ Express your feelings 🕹️ Laugh, crack jokes, have fun?

If not, there's still time! The day isn't over yet!

Daily self-care checklist with adorably cavorting critters I made a while ago for an autistic friend of mine who's suffering from severe depression. I hope it will help you, too.

There's a lot going on in the world right now, but you absolutely cannot help other people unless you take care of yourself.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

[victorsandvanquishers]

William Wilson for.... William Vangeance

Hello, Anon. Thank you for the Billiam prompt, as it was a DELIGHT writing this. Please enjoy the Gothic BillyPato and overall mindless horror. Thank you for requesting! (~˘▾˘)~

~~~

When William was sixteen years old, he fell in love.

An existence spent in the shadows hadn't done well for his self-esteem, but it had allowed him ample time to self-reflect. He realized early in life that as an individual, he had nothing to live for. If he jumped into the river near the Vangeance estate, then it would be a painful closing to a rather painful existence, but only if he saw his life as one that belonged to him, and only him. Fortunately, for William, he also realized that the body he inhabited wasn't just his, and so in conclusion, his life couldn't be just his own if there was something else depending on him to keep the body safe and healthy. Something slept in William's chest, and William loved that thing, whatever it was, because it gave William a purpose, a reason never to jump into the river.

When Patolli awoke and received his grimoire, William cried.

His life finally had meaning, and it was all because of a creature that harbored uncontrollable rage. William, despite the life-long depression and reservedness, never thought anything could hate that much, but then there was Patolli. Patolli hated. Patolli hated, and William cried, because while Patolli's rage burned everything in its path, William's love blossomed in his poison. When William was sixteen years old, he hadn't just met the ghost that'd been hibernating in his chest – he'd met his soulmate.

Doppelganger.

He'd read the stories of course, all the children had. The fairies that could snatch you up in a moment's notice were the same fairies who could grant you your greatest wish. William never had any dreams. He had nothing to live for. Why would he? He was the cursed son of a whore noble who put a baby in his mother, his mother who had no use for him after she saw his face. William was nothing, but Patolli? Patolli was everything.

Doppelganger.

He knew what a doppelganger was, of course he did, but he never saw Patolli as such, no matter what the books and the children and the old maids said, because they didn't know the ghost living in his chest, the ghost who was his best friend, his other half, the only who loved him and understood his pain, the one who'd unknowingly kept him alive all these years. William didn't care if Patolli was his proverbial doppelganger, because it didn't matter.

“That's the one who became friends with his doppelganger, isn't it?” William hears a woman say, as he finally comes to his senses, finally understands why the word 'doppelganger' is repeating itself in his head.

“They call us dirty for contracting demons, but here they are, cavorting with elven ghosts,” a man drawls in response.

“Aren't you two supposed to be in bed right now?” Another man speaks, and this time, the voice belongs to someone William recognizes.

“I got hungry,” the woman retorts before devolving into a bout of screeching laughter. “Aaaand a little bored. Wanted to see who the World Tree magic user was... didn't expect this loser.”

“You can smell the desperation on him. Imagine loving one person your whole life, and a fucking ghost at that. Who does that?”

“You two, get back to the recovery room now,” pleads that familiar voice.

“You're the baby of the family, Zenon, you go to bed.”

“I'm not the one who broke seven ribs,” Zenon deadpans.

“First of all-” But before the woman can finish, William hears a yelp, some scuffling, the scuttling of critter legs, and finally a set of whines and grumbles that lead to retreating footsteps.

“Awake now, are we?” Zenon says.

William finally opens his eyes, and takes in the lone man in front of him. His vision is blurry, but not so bad that he can't make out the bars of the cage he's locked in, and the tall, peering figure right outside of it. “It seems so,” he rasps, throat as dry as sandpaper.

The man called Zenon stares in silence for some time. William wonders what has him so enamored.

“You're a bad omen,” the man concludes.

William can't help but crack a smile. “I'm the bad omen?”

The man called Zenon nods. “No one is supposed to love their doppelganger,” he says, as if it were a matter of fact and not just a grim fairy tale used to frighten children. “Doppelgangers are a curse. If you meet your doppelganger, you're supposed to run away as far you can, so that they can never catch up to you and steal your body... But you – you willingly lay with a ghost.” The man called Zenon looks at William as if he were a specimen on display. “You're supposed to kill your doppelganger. It's how you assert dominance, and keep your body.”

“Is that so?” William comments with little emotion. The remnants of his smile are gone. Instead, there's a blankness in his expression he doesn't think he's outwardly displayed since he was a child. It's the look of a dead child – a dead man.

Zenon nods again. “You can't become friends with a doppelganger. It's misleading,” Zenon lectures. “When you're fighting for one body, you're warring; it's a war. The winner takes it all.”

William twitches. It's a habit he's had since he was a child, but it's one he's had control over for just as long. He's never screeched or thrown himself against the floor to push the pain away. Its always been hidden in the depths of his chest, next to Patolli's sleeping form, a mass of despair and loathing that William kept... keeps at bay by reminding himself that he has something to live for now. There's more than Patolli now. There's the Golden Dawn, there's Wizard King Julius, and there are the friends he's made along the way – there are more reasons to live now.

“If you'd killed him, imagine how powerful you'd be now,” Zenon says with a dejected sigh. “Perhaps your comrades wouldn't have died if you had. It's your fault, you know. Those who can't kill their own demons have no right to protect others.”

“Noted,” William responds hollowly, unable to call out the other man's hypocrisy.

“It's good that you're marked for death,” Zenon surmises. “It's what you deserve. You're too weak for this world.”

Zenon turns away after that, and William thinks that finally, finally he can think now that the cruel man has left, and maybe find a way to escape so that he can go home to whomever is left. William knows he's a coward, knows that Clover will never take him back, but he has to try, doesn't he? After Patolli left his body, a piece of William left with him. William still doesn't know what that piece is, but perhaps surviving this ordeal will help him realize what it is.

“Perhaps I should find him before the world is remade,” Zenon says, his back to William. William raises his head and stares at the man who's sprouted horns and appendages made of bones. He's so far away, William shouldn't be able to hear him, but he does, clear as a bell. “Megicula says we only need you and the Dark Magic user, but he doesn't have a doppelganger running around. I don't want the ritual to fail because you're weak. I will find him, that ghost. Yes... Yes, I believe I will.”

The mass of despair and utter loathing melts away to reveal what's underneath. Because it's not despair and loathing, is it? He has his father's lavender eyes. They compliment the ghastly birthmark, patches of dark red and bleeding purple. He has his father's eyes.

He has his father's contempt.

“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”

There's drool hanging from his lips, and the deep cut on his face is open again, pouring fresh blood down his face. He barely registers the pain. All he sees is rage mixed with disdain, the contempt he knows his father has passed on to him, the ire he's kept so tightly locked up in his chest that Patolli even ignores it, because Patolli didn't know him when he was twelve and realized he wanted to stick his head in the river because he loathed, he hated that he was so miserable, disgusted that Clover's gods had forsaken and left him so utterly alone.

William is a coward. He deserves to be punished. He deserves to die. He knows it and he accepts it, but his lavender eyes glisten with scorn, burn with so much derision that he wants to break free from the cage and rip Zenon's heart out.

“Don't touch him,” William whispers with deadly softness. “If you touch him, I'll-”

“You'll what?” And suddenly the man called Zenon is pressed against the bars of the cage, a manic smile on his lips, black pits set into sickly yellow sclera. “What will you do, World Tree Magic caster?”

When William was sixteen years old, he fell in love with the ghost in his head. Who else cared about him? The king who recruited him for his army? The father who only took him in because his original heir had died? The stepmother who'd beaten him so badly growing up that he hadn't been able to walk for days on end? Who did William have? Who cared about William? Who put him to sleep so that he'd never have to deal with the pain of living ever again?

William doesn't know how he manages to crawl to the bars of the cage, but once he finds his bruised hands grasping the bars, he presses his face against the metal so his and Zenon's lips are mere centimeters apart.

“I'll chop you up into tiny little pieces, and eat you.” It's not a threat; it's a promise. He's seen it before – seen his father murder his enemies, and cannibalize them in front of their families to teach them the ultimate lesson, to teach them that a Vangeance was as soulless as its namesake. It's why he had to be sent away when he was first born. No son of a cruel noble had any right to exist unless the noble deemed him worthy enough to exist. William only became worthy when his older brother died, but even then, only good enough for the press and those nosy enough to poke around, not worthy enough to actually lead the family.

Perhaps his father will accept him once he rips Zenon's nose off with his teeth. Perhaps then he will become a true Vangeance.

Or perhaps he will simply eat Zenon alive while he's screaming for mercy, and then find Patolli and cry in his arms, because Patolli understands, Patolli knows. He knows the evil lurking in William's heart, even if William has tried to hide it, even if William pretends Patolli doesn't know about the darkness lurking in the corners. William keeps the evil at bay by pretending to be useless, the same evil that made him turn a blind eye to countless civilians and Magic Knights being murdered in cold blood by ghosts of species wiped out during a genocide, because William is, fundamentally, evil.

Evil and filled with contempt – perhaps he is the doppelganger, and not Patolli.

“You're in love with him,” Zenon choked with awe. “You...”

William watches as tears stream down the man's left cheek. Zenon's left eye transformed into a plain brown eye set into an average white sclera during their conversation, and now it overflows with sadness, as if it understands William.

As if it knows.

“You would make such a good demon host, William Vangeance,” Zenon murmurs, his lone eye still crying. “If only you weren't a key – you could have become a god.”

But William has no intention of becoming a god. He intends to survive, to leave this dungeon, to kill this man, and then find his Patolli. He wants to take his Patolli's hand and return to Clover Kingdom, beg Wizard King Julius for forgiveness for having failed the Golden Dawn, and then fight for them with all of his cruelty laid bare for all of Spade to witness. William wants to live.

“Don't touch him,” William repeats, because his father's evil and contempt have merged with his depression and pain, and the thought of losing his other half, his soulmate, is so agonizing that he wants to try his luck at grasping Zenon's throat right now, and tear him to shreds from inside the cage.

But Zenon flickers away, his horns and wings gone, his back to William once more as he finally walks away for good. William blinks once, two more times before falling to his side, the adrenaline rushing from his body like a deflating balloon. Slumped on his side, William watches the retreating figure as sleep claims his senses and the evil recedes to the deepest corners of his heart, the heart that belongs to a ghost.

William was sixteen years old when he fell in love. He was sixteen when he laid his head against a mirror and promised his body to a ghost.

He was sixteen when he realized that his birthmark was never the curse. At the end of the day, it's as superficial as his stepmother's smile in a room full of aristocrats.

No, William's real curse is something different. It's not the rage that Patolli holds, or the jealousy he's witnessed in other men who are second or third siblings to privileged heirs. It's something worse. It's something William knows will push him over the edge and have him commit evil in the name of love. It's because he's the doppelganger, and not Patolli. It's because he's a bad man born under a bad sign, and deserves no less than a coward's death.

William Vangeance was sixteen years old when he fell in love – just sixteen years old when he met the ghost living in his heart, and gave it his everything.

[enchantedliving]

Louisiana’s Rougarou Fest

Giving Folklore’s Favorite Swamp Monster a New Image

BY JILL GLEESON

Photography by Rougarou Fest Photographers (except where noted)

IT’s quite a scene here in Houma, a wee city of about 32,000 sunk so far south in Louisiana the next stop is pretty much the Gulf of Mexico. Drifting along the street with surprising grace and no little beauty is a papier-mâché egret, perhaps twenty feet long and white as snow, a tribute to the birds that call the surrounding bayous home. There are other massive puppets—like the egret, all created by local citizens—making an appearance tonight too, including a replica of a sugar skull and a Jack Skellington look-alike. They’re whimsical and wonderful, but by no means the only highlight of the parade, which also includes a platoon of dancing witches, a float filled with mermaids, and a flash-mob-like coterie of zombies that replicate Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” moves.

Pulling up the rear, helping lead the zombies when not cavorting with the masses lining the sidewalks, is the rougarou, the creature that inspired both the parade and the two-day festival during which the parade takes place. The most celebrated of all the critters that fill Cajun folktales, the rougarou “is like a swamp werewolf,” says Melissa Durocher, destination development manager at the Houma Area CVB. “When we were growing up, every Cajun child understood that if you didn’t listen to mom and dad, or you misbehaved, the rougarou would come and get you. Even when you were playing outside, mom would say, ‘Come in before dark or the rougarou is going to be out.’”

But this rougarou—most years made flesh by former Louisiana state senator Norby Chabert, who owns the hirsute costume familiar to festivalgoers—has little bark, much less bite. That’s thanks not only to the family-friendly nature of the fest but also the cause which it supports, the South Louisiana Wetlands Discovery Center, a nonprofit Houma organization that educates kids and teens about the issues facing the Pelican State’s coastal communities. While the rougarou was once the star of a children’s cautionary tale, he’s fast evolving into a symbol of the fight to protect Louisiana’s precious bayous against coastal land loss from subsidence and sea-level rise.

Read full article at EnchantedLivingMagazine.com

[karltface]

It's another bag of plastic critters! Let's dive in, shall we?

I'ma get the modern stuff out of the way first. Not much to say here. They're alright.

This, however, is the reason I buy bags like this. Bemused stegosaurus, shy ankylosurus and allosaurus shaking its hands dry are cornerstones of the Generic Dino Empire of yore, running from the 70s into the early 90s. I used to love picking these up from drugstores and discount chains, their repackagings and color variations over the years adding spice to the shelf.

Two distinct flavors of dimetrodon illustrate my point nicely. Yeah, they're crude. Mold lines and flash cavort across their surfaces with reckless abandon. But it's got a certain charm, I think.

For example, this trio of brontotheriinae. A couple too many horns, yes, but how often do you see them in plastic these days? Forgotten mammals and second-stringer synapsids cropped up with startling regularity back then, giving us a broad selection of fun oddities.

Speaking of which, this one is a total mystery. They're ungulates, they have tapir snouts, and that's all I got. Little help, paleobio crowd?

Update: they're South American weirdos Macrauchenia, by Ja-Ru. Thanks, buddy!

A few erasers round out the lot. All three are new to me, and the unicorn is oddly soft, like a Deiner, but not labeled as such. These need a cleaning, but are certainly a fun find.

Finally, a particularly tiny dimetrodon in glaring neon green, soft vinyl. Looks familiar, but I'm coming up zero. A board game or micro playset, perhaps?

So yeah. Not bad for a buck. 'Til next time!

[angel-gidget]

Assorted Symbiote Suit Sagas

I might be developing a thing for comparing and contrasting rehashed Spider-man storylines.

I got Spider-man: The Complete Alien Costume Saga from the library this past week and read through it. Then my bud @dayenurose was sweet enough to lend me her Gwenom tpb. Now my current stopping point in Spider-girl has Mayday dealing with the backlash of switching to a black costume.

I saw a tumblr post sometime ago--around the time the Venom movie came out--that talked about what the original alien costume saga looks like from the symbiote’s point of view. It noted that that symbiote wasn’t evil, but easily influenced, and that Peter had inadvertently set a bad example for it by treating it like an inanimate object. Then, of course, Peter made it feel unjustly betrayed by panicking and trying to off it upon realizing it was alive.

Gotta say, that definitely influenced my reading. It shifts the Costume Saga from a mystery to a really prolonged tale of dramatic irony. 

And also, drama in general bc oooohhh boy. I had seen people talk about Peter and Felicia Hardy’s original 616 dating life, but I thought they were exaggerating. They were not. Black Cat is a basket case. A really entertaining basket case of identity issues. I had expected to be impatient about that, as I knew little about her and tend to find myself rather squarely in the Peter/Mary Jane camp, but I was fascinated enough by the train wreck to actually enjoy it quite a bit.

She really brings out the procrastinator in Peter, I think. She blows off his civilian problems, and while this doesn’t nix Peter’s awareness that they are still problems, it does encourage him to put them on the back-burner in favor of cavorting in costume with her. This includes the problem of not knowing jack sh*t about an alien costume that seems to change shape by reading his mind. Cheeze whiz, Pete.

In some ways, his prolonging seemed to go on forever because the trade alternated between Spider-man’s solo title and Marvel Team-up. The Marvel team-up stuff could be fun, but not always the most relevant thing regarding the Costume Saga stuff, but at least I got to see a bit of Monica Rambeau, Cloak, and Dagger, characters I was rather curious about.

Then we’ve got the Spider-Gwen version of things. I expected Gwen’s take on events to be wildly fast-paced by comparison, because her title’s been good like that. I did NOT expect her symbiote relationship to be so... sybiotic. So positive.

I think my expectations might have been thrown off by the old Avengers Academy mobile game, of all things. Because it DID feature a Gwenom outfit+sidestory that had Gwen going a teensy bit dark-side from the suit’s influence.

But in the actual comic, Gwen might be very paranoid about getting in bed with such a mysterious critter, but she seems to catch on quick that SHE is in the lead. And then she seems to embrace and adapt to it fluidly. It felt a teensy bit abrupt to me, but ultimately, I think I dig it.

Then there’s Spider-girl. Mayday’s situation isn’t really a symbiote costume at this point, per se. When her usual suit gets trashed, she’s in a hurry to replace it. The quickest thing she can get her mits on just happens to be a black venom-style suit.

When her parents see her in it the next morning, she nearly gives Mary Jane a heart attack. Her dad gives a rather vague explanation of the venom costume history, but as sorry as May is about upsetting her mom, she still doesn’t HAVE another suit at the moment.

Later, when she DOES have options, she’s torn. In her case, it really is JUST a suit. But by being that, it’s a fresh look when May wants the feeling of a clean slate from her mistakes.

She’s also accepting resources from a shady yet helpful character named Tarantula, and while she’s on the fence about his intentions, she likes the people he hooks her up with. (Some helpful gals-in-the-chair, and Elektra as her personal combat coach.) The black suit reinforces her association with them which feels like another incentive to hang onto it.

I suppose to put the cherry on top of this trifecta, I would also enjoy reading the Ultimate Spider-man Venom storyline, but sadly, the library’s volume is all checked out.

Anyways, I find myself in the mood to do something similar with the clone saga. I did read the Ultimate version of those events waaaayyyy back when, and enjoyed it, but if I understand correctly, the original is more complicated.

But I feel like I’m constantly running into references to it, and I did enjoy Ben Reiley’s arc the giant Spiderverse compendium. (Though I largely read it for love of Ultimate Peter Parker’s clone, Jessica.)  I also read the Clone fake-out storyline of Renew Your Vows which was fun.

And apparently one of the 616 reboots of clone saga was drawn by Todd Nauck? I suppose I’ll have to save that one till the end as a final treat.

[petri808]

Mystery Solved

Naluween week 10-28/29 day 4/5 cemetery/spell short Drabble

“Are you sure this is the right cemetery Gray, it’s a pretty… creepy old place.”

“Exactly.  Did you think the guy would hold it at one closer to the city?”

“Well no….”

“Let’s just find a place to hide, I was told he comes around 1 am.”

Lucy hunkers down next to Natsu for the air is growing chilly and the jacket she had brought with her wasn’t keeping her very warm.  It had been a couple of hours and if her watch was correct, it would soon be time for the black wizard to show.  She sighs, leaning her head on Natsu and closing her eyes.  Well they could just wake her up when he did.

Another hour passes, and out of the blue, they hear some crunching sounds in the distance like twigs breaking.  Gray stands up, whispering, “you two stay here, I’m gonna check it out.”

“Why you?”

“Because you don’t understand stealth,” he grits his teeth at Natsu, “just stay with Lucy.”

“Tch!”  Natsu crosses his arms and sits back down next to his teammate.  He didn’t want to admit to anyone, but the cemetery was starting to creep him the fuck out.  Too many weirdly shaped shadows shifting around in the half moonlight, and the sounds of critters scurrying, crawling, echoing off the headstones into his sensitive hearing, it was making him shudder.

“Are you cold?” Lucy asked the questions before remembering, wait, Natsu doesn’t get cold in a snow storm so why would this bother him?  She snickers, “or are you getting scared?”

“I’m not scared!”

Another loud cracking sound opposite of the direction Gray had headed in.  Natsu stiffens.  A whirling sound funnels through the cemetery, akin to the ghostly lamenting that children are often warned of, its icy winds chilling Natsu to the bone.  He sinks down closer to Lucy, grabbing for her hand.  “S-stay cl-close to me, j-just in case s-something attacks.”

She rolls her eyes, “Sure.” ‘yeah attacks…’

Bright white orbs appear amongst the trees, whizzing through the rows of headstones, as sounds of disembodied chanting fills the air.  Was the black wizard here?  Lucy scans the area as far as she could, but cannot see anything concrete, no other persons, not even a sign of where their friend might be, just more icy winds and dancing orbs. Even she was starting to get scared.

Ancient words that they could not understand flow through the darkness, was it the spells Gray talked about?  Oh Mavis, was that wizard going to raise the dead here, because Natsu wasn’t keen on the idea of fighting some half rotting, skeletons.  A deep, guttural sound reverberates throughout the air.  “What the fuck was that!”  

Lucy tries to pull her hand free from Natsu’s, “let go, you’re crushing my hand!”

Another growl followed by a shrill bellow, and they both freeze, that was close.

“I’ve got him!” Gray’s voice cuts through from a distance, “I’ve got the wizard.”

“Oh good!” Lucy let’s out an exhale, “we can go home now.”

But something is still wrong, the weird chanting hasn’t stopped nor the other phenomena cavorting around the old cemetery…  In fact… They’re getting closer!  The balls of light streak past Natsu’s head, circle, and wink out, only to pop up in a new location.  Leaves stir into mini whirlwinds, whipping around but never touching them, just, taunting the poor couple.  

Lucy is not faring much better but Natsu is damn near panicked at this point.  Give him any monster, an evil wizard, a fucking dragon, not something he can’t even see!  The slayer clings to Lucy and is too afraid to move.  “Make it stop!”  He buries his face in her chest, “make it stop!”

For several more agonizing minutes this onslaught continues, and just as they thought they couldn’t take it anymore, the winds still and the lights blink away a final time, dying away along with the strange incantations.  

Natsu peeks out, “Is…  Is it over?”

“Seems like it…”

She looks down as he looks up from his hiding place, his cheeks pinking when he realized where his face had been crushed against.  “S-sorry,” Natsu chokes out.  

“Tis, okay,” she blushes. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t fault him too harshly.  “We should just go home since it sounds like Gray already took care of the evil guy.”

“Yeah...  But c-could I stay at your apartment tonight?  I don’t think I wanna be alone.”

“Um, okay, but you’re sleeping on the couch.”

He pouts but nods his head, helping Lucy to her feet…

As they watch their friends leave the area, from behind a few trees, Gray, Gajeel, and Levy snicker to themselves.

“We make an awesome team when it comes to a scary scene.”

“Cold winds, dancing lights, a deep voice…” Levy chuckles, “we should do a haunted house for Halloween.”

“Gehe, think those two will ever figure out they just got pranked?”

“Doubt it, but pyro missed a damn good opportunity to get closer to Lucy, just didn’t realize he’d get the most freaked out!”

The trio laugh, “yeah, never figured Salamander was so easy to spook!”

But unbeknownst to the trio Natsu could hear them perfectly clear, ‘tch, fools,’ he snickers in his head, of course he was just acting scared, it got him up close with Lucy’s boobs didn’t it?  ;)-

[thelreads]

How could one not love Spaghetti Gal? It's simply im-pasta-bowl! :D Anyway, I'm really looking forward to the summer camp. I remember my own trips full of campfires, ghost stories, rock climbing, and cavorting with woodland critters. (Or trying to, at least.) It'll be great for these kids to finally relax a bit after the exams, don't you think? :)

That’s-a spicy pun ya gotta-a here my friend

Oh boy, this arc is going to be soo good :) Just kids being kids :) in a safe, peaceful scenario :)) without anything dangerous going around to ruin their day :) I’m sure this will be a breather arc so we can relax for a while :))):))

[alanfisting-pd]

Crispy’s Critters by Buzz Dixon

((There’s no chapter today, so instead I will be sharing the fanfic I received over this past week. All of them are about side characters. This one in particular? Crispy.)) The hacked code worked as promised and Trell led his crew through the narrow gardener’s access gate in the back of the spacious Buckminter estate.

Ahead of them loomed the large, luxurious mansion.

On schedule, Trell thought.  Perfect.

In five minutes we’ll have the kid; in ten we’ll be making our getaway; in an hour, our demand; tomorrow, we’re rich -- rich!

His crew followed him stealthily single file behind the hedges at the rear of the estate:  Fingers, trigger-happy crowd control; Joanna, terrifying nanny gone bad who would subdue the kid; Mumps, the muscle who would eliminate any guards who might try to protect the child.

From the other side of the hedge they could hear the happy laughter of children at the birthday party.

That laughter wouldn’t last long.

The hedges in the back of the Buckminter estate hid the plebian support services from the Buckminters’ patrician eyes -- the gardener’s sheds, the pool cleaner’s submarine, the stable master’s hay and feed -- and those hedges formed a horseshoe around the rear of the estate, with the mansion and the pool and the main patio area sitting at the open end.

They held the birthday party there, and Trell led his crew along the perimeter around the west side to sneak up on the partiers near the outdoor barbecue.

Their plan:  Rush out, cut off the partiers from escaping back into the mansion, trap them with the elaborate pool behind them, grab the Buckminter brat, commandeer a car, and make good their escape.

Trell held up his hand, pausing his crew at the end of the hedge. He could hear the children’s laughter, the soft murmur of adult voices.

“All right, children,” said Mrs. Buckminter, “we have a special surprise for you!  You like balloon animals, don’t you?  Well, our very special guest -- “

Trell gave the signal and he and his crew burst out, screeching like banshees and blasting their guns in the air.

The parents screamed and clutched their children tightly to them, the liveried servants looked panicked and confused, uncertain what to do.

Fingers jabbed his submachine gun at them, herding them over towards the pool.  Mumps grabbed the cook tending the sizzling barbecue and shoved him over past a long row of large dancing balloon animals to join the rest.  Joanna snapped her fingers and pointed at Billy Buckminter, the birthday boy.

Mrs. Buckminter quivered, clutching her 8-year old son tighter to her.  “No -- no, you can’t!  I-I have money in the house, jewels.  I’ll give them to you if -- “

“Chicken feed,” said Trell.  “We want your kid and we’re gonna take him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” said a cool, calm, confident, reassuring voice.

From behind the row of dancing balloon animals -- elephants and lions and giraffes and platypuses, all in bright translucent primary colors –- stepped the party’s entertainment.

Trell took one look at him and his heart sank -- sank in the grim realization that no matter how much he preened and strutted, no matter how brash and bold he acted, he would never ever approach the serene utter confidence and eloquent unspoken charm of the man standing before him.  

Tall, tan, hair gently flowing in the light morning breeze, his teeth dazzling when he smiled -- oh, yes, he smiled; he smiled with the absolute knowledge that he was in total control of the situation and, oh, how Trell hated him for that insouciant smile alone.

He was so handsome it would be wrong not to call him beautiful, and Trell felt as if he and his hard bitten crew were nothing but a bunch of doomed, demented dwarves standing before Michelangelo’s majestic David.

Mayor Crispy…

“I’m sure you all have sad, sad histories of how you fell into a squalid life of crime, and I’ll be more than happy to listen to your tales of woe once I’ve checked you into the municipal criminal rehabilitation center -- your first stop on a journey of self-discovery that will lead you to responsible, respectable lives and a crime free future -- but I absolutely cannot have you traumatizing these children any further.”

Billy Buckminter, the erstwhile kidnapping target, stuck his tongue out at Trell from the safety of his position behind his mother, secure in the knowledge Mayor Crispy would protect him.

“Now, put down your guns safely,” said Mayor Crispy, not at all unkindly, “and sit on that bench until the police come to arrest you.”

Trell grit his teeth so hard in hatred that he almost chipped his enamel.  Gawd, how I hate Crispy! he thought as he aimed his submachine gun at the bridge of Mayor Crispy’s perfect nose.  “Just how do you plan on stopping us?” he asked.

“I won’t,” said Mayor Crispy, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

At that, the long line of dancing balloon animals began skipping over to Trell and his crew, swarming around them.

From the middle of all this, Trell laughed.  The balloon animals were large, about a meter tall -- two meters for the giraffes -- but they were clearly hollow with no hard or sharp components.  “They’re supposed to scare us?”

“No,” said Mayor Crispy, “they’re supposed to subdue you.”

The last supplies of natural helium being exhausted in the previous century, balloon animals now used hydrogen instead.

Hydrogen, of course, was extremely flammable, and only a highly skilled, thoroughly trained, licensed balloon animal expert -- such as Mayor Crispy -- could safely handle them.

Microfilaments ran through the tightly stretched bodies of the balloon animals, both receiving radio commands from the tiny control unit concealed in Mayor Crispy’s hand, and executing those commands to dance and skip and cavort to the delight of children.

Filled with a mixture of hydrogen and regular air, just the right blend to give them perfect neutral buoyancy -- the balloon animals could stand upright without floating off.

A delight to behold…but certainly not safe.

The balloon animals held hands -- or rather, paws and hooves -- to enfold and encircle Trell and his crew in their midst.

One of the lions, in an act of heroic self-sacrifice, stuck his tail in the barbecue.

The tail ignited, setting off the hydrogen and air mixture in the lion’s body. and all the other animals holding hands with one another exploded in a chain reaction of sympathetic detonation.

Though the explosion sounded dreadfully loud, Mayor Crispy, the children, and the adults all stood far enough back to be safe.

Not so Trell and his crew, engulfed in the blast itself.

Trell woke up several minutes later as the police cuffed his hands behind his back, his hair and eyebrows singed off.  He blinked in dismay as the officers hauled him to a flying paddy wagon along with the rest of his still stunned crew.

Mrs. Buckminter stepped up to Mayor Crispy, tears of gratitude streaming down her face as her son and his guests waved good-bye to the departing paddy wagon.

“You saved my son,” she said, voice choked with emotion.

“Think nothing of it,” said Mayor Crispy.  “It’s my job to look after the citizens of this city.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

“You needn’t thank me,” said Mayor Crispy.  “Just remember:  Vote early, vote often, vote Crispy!”

# # # # #

[beautifulbizarremagazine]

INSIDE ISSUE 31 // RESERVE YOUR COPY TODAY! "Theatrically absurd imaginings are this creative visionary’s specialty. His preposterously endearing Franken-creatures revel in a post-apocalyptic domain that is devoid of the long shadow of humanity. What may have made perfect sense to exacting minds intent on demystifying the secrets of the universe has now been eclipsed by inexplicable possibilities. As the cavorting critters at the other end of the Valladolid, Spain-based artist’s paintbrush demonstrate, it’s just a matter of time before the freaks shall inherit the Earth-like entity." Read about @jm.aguado and his work in Issue 31 of Beautiful Bizarre Magazine.⁣ ⁣ Pre-order $13.49 // Subscribe $47.96 > https://ift.tt/IUsDuk [link in our profile]⁣ .⁣ posted on Instagram - https://instagr.am/p/CHDnvD7gHl8/