#i really wish an equivalent of cat food but for humans existed

[jaskiersvalley]

So I just discovered your maned wolf Jaskier and I thought I might add something I know about them. As the original person mentioned they are not foxes or wolves but more like a wild dog but not. They are their own thing. Also their pee smells like marijuana. I've seen some at the the national zoo in D.C. they do better in pairs or with company then on their own. The last one they had before the pair of brothers they had when I went didn't do good on their own. Their legs are sk long because they are made to see over tall grass. I love manned wolves they are so unique.

This is such a delightful bunch of facts about maned wolves! Thank you for sharing your knowledge, I adored finding out more about these fascinating creatures. As thanks, here’s a slightly different take on maned wolf!Jaskier for you.

True Colours

It was rare for graduates of Aretuza to get together. Mostly because their motives and goals were rather at odds with each other usually so it wasn't a good idea to get together. Things could get rather unpleasant. But, once in a while, they could set their ambitions aside and enjoy each other's company.

"I'm telling you, she was scum," Yennefer giggled, leaning into Fringilla's shoulder. "You can do miles better."

"I just wish I'd known what she was like before I wasted all that time on her." Nursing a freshly broken heart, Fringilla was eager for any kindness her peers would show her. "Humans are scum."

All too eager to agree, Yennefer nodded along. Humans were rather unfortunate creatures, she couldn't really help with that, ridding the Continent of them was quite unethical. But the thing about true colours, she could most definitely help with that.

"I've got the perfect spell! We can reveal the whole Continent's true colours." Laughter went up around them at the declaration and Yennefer sniffed as she straightened up. "You can all help. Or watch and learn."

It was quite amazing, how much power five drunken sorceresses could harness. The spell took a considerable amount of rather raw, unrefined Chaos and they all sprawled on the ground in a sweaty pile by the time it was done. Alas, in their drunken stupor, they noted that the spell had done nothing other than make the sky flash and rumble in an ever spreading wave until it moved out of sight.

The next morning they were all suitably hungover and more than ready to return to their usual duties. There was only so much time they could spend with each other before the truce ended and they were at each other's throats again.

Somewhere else on the Continent it was another beautiful day for Jaskier to follow Geralt around. He said follow because he'd once again managed to piss his boyfriend off and sent him stomping off ahead.

"Look, all I said was that you'd look better if you just glowered a little less," Jaskier grumbled. The lute case bounced against his back like it always did when he did a little jog to keep up with Geralt. "You do give the wrong impression sometimes. I swear you do this deliberately, hide the fact you're an absolutely cuddly sweetheart under all those onion-y layers of doom, gloom and...I have nothing that rhymes. Broom? Shroom? Groom? Fume! Because you're fuming!"

Funnily enough, it did nothing to ease Geralt's sulk but Jaskier was undeterred. This was nothing more than a blip in the journey of their love. A bit of bad weather, not even a storm.

They wandered in a manner Jaskier would call aimless while Geralt described as optimal in the hunt for a contract. At least it got them to a town in decent time, the soft summer light enough to get to an inn for food and a performance. Jaskier was ecstatic.

His set was going great, everyone was merry, having a blast as he belted out shanty after drinking song. Ale flowed, as did the coin. The sun was setting and he set his lute aside for a quick break. One moment he was staring out over the tavern and the next the world lurched. He was shorter, on all fours and everything looked and smelled different. Especially the patrons. A variety of animals stared back at him before pandemonium exploded. Most creatures reared back, staring in terror into the corner Geralt had been in, which was quite glaringly empty.

"What has that bastard done to us?" The cry went up and the dogs and foxes in the tavern rallied, ready to hunt Geralt down.

"I did nothing." A familiar voice rang through the room and everyone backed away as a harvest mouse climbed onto the table. Cute and defenceless, Geralt stared out at the tavern from the top of the table, nose twitching.

From his vantage point on the stage, with his long legs, Jaskier could see how the villagers weren't convinced. In fact, they saw an easy target and looked ready to exact revenge on an innocent party. Snarling, he raced to the other side of the room and hopped onto the table, towering over Geralt.

"He's innocent." Sharp teeth were bared fiercely at the crowd. When it didn't look like they would back down, Jaskier did the only thing he could. He picked Geralt up in his mouth and pretended to swallow while the tiny harvest mouse clambered out the side of his mouth and got lost in Jaskier's thick mane.

The villagers didn't look all that appeased but Jaskier didn't allow them to get out of control.

"Tasted like disappointment. Now. Shall we howl at the moon?" For some reason it seemed to do the trick and the shock of being turned into animals turned into a celebration.

In the morning, everyone was back to their regular human form, including Geralt. They had to make a hasty run from the village before the angry mob punished them for their existence.

"Whew! That was exciting. But also, what the fuck happened?"

There were no answers. Each night, as the sun set, they changed into animal form. Jaskier a maned wolf, Geralt a harvest mouse.

"I can't work like this," Geralt growled. "We're getting to the bottom of this."

Only, there seemed to be no help. Everywhere they went, the whole Continent seemed to turn into animals from dusk until dawn. Most villagers were wolves, bears, cats and other animals that could be tamed but the wild, aggressive undertones of predators were still there. A few were goats, cows and sheep, a few bulls. By contrast, courts were full of snakes and birds. Rarer, less straightforward to deal with. In Geralt's opinion, less pleasant to deal with. And no court's sorceress would give him a straight answer. They had to know something, Geralt knew when he was being lied to. But he didn't know what they were hiding.

With no other option, he headed home. Each night he climbed into Jaskier's mane, allowed his boyfriend to keep him safe from owls - some natural, others transformed humans who enjoyed the hunt. At the base of Kaer Morhen, he ran into something most unusual. A hyena gave Jaskier a flat stare from where it was curled in the overgrowth. By its stomach was a capybara and a hare, both looking a bit patchy and weathered. Even more interestingly, there was a cockatoo on the top of its head, eyes closed.

"Friends," Jaskier called, "we come in peace."

Never before had Jaskier felt more threatened than when a capybara and hare looked ready to tear his throat out.

"Eskel. Lambert," Geralt called and climbed to sit on the end of Jaskier's snout. "You made friends."

The hyena got to its feet, looming over the transformed Witchers protectively. "You know these two?"

"Geralt you fuck," the hare growled. "Is this your doing?"

"Would I be here if it was?" Jaskier didn't have to see the harvest mouse's face to know Geralt was rolling his eyes. Still, he tried.

It made the cockatoo screech out a laugh. "Crossed eyes do not become you, weird wolf thing."

Puffing up, Jaskier wanted to object but Geralt cut in. "Leave Jaskier out of this. Who are you travelling with?"

"I'm Aiden," the cockatoo replied, spreading his wings wide and bobbing down in a bird equivalent of a bow. "Cat Witcher by name, cockatoo by nature."

That, Geralt could have guessed, he was much more interested in the hyena who seemed keen to be forgotten. He stared at him until it got awkward.

"Cahir." The name said nothing but there was a broad, southern accent to it. Intrigued, Geralt wished he could take a better look at the man. He would be able to do so in the daylight.

Introductions out of the way, Geralt climbed down, only to scuttle across the gap and climb onto Eskel's back. The capybara grunted sleepily and settled back on the ground.

"Sleep. We've got quite the climb ahead of us tomorrow." At least it was warm, meaning the trek should only take a day without snow impeding them. They'd be home by evening.

They staggered through on four legs the following night. Mostly because Jaskier had insisted on stopping and admiring every angle of every view, sighing wistfully. Finally, they arrived at the door which had been left open a crack, only needing to be nudged open on silent, freshly oiled hinges.

"I was wondering when you'd get home," a voice greeted them. Vesemir did not look impressed as he looked over them. A gopher stared at them with a rather done expression. "Aretuza had a lot to answer for."

[lady-literature]

no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let’s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step. 

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.  

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left. 

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

[forsakenbysinnoh]

Random Headcannons for the Demon Bros that no one asked for.

~Lucifer~

Lucifer never refers to God by name, only ever saying "He" or "My Father".

Despite how he may act, he's proud of his brothers, of their independence and strength. His pact mark reflects that, his own star surrounded by the six of his brothers.

With that, he can also be very worried about his brothers. Being an avatar of a sin is a title that can be won. He makes sure no other demons besides his brothers hold that title.

He has a dark sense of humor that can go unnoticed or be mistaken as threats.

Despite his reputation of being controlling, he's actually rather tired of it. He was forced into this position to protect his loved ones, and to try to figure out how to function after losing the war. Sometimes a part of him wants to be told what hes supposed to do, rather than deal with the mess of making it up as he goes along.

The most scarred of the brothers, especially along his chest and back. When he has to, he hides it with illusions, otherwise he doesn't show his skin.

Takes his debts and what he owes people very seriously. It's why he rarely asks for help even in small things.

Is the only one who can force a pact on an unwilling participant.

Isn't afraid of being controlled, but is scared of losing control to the wrong person or partner. It takes a lot of trust to let him drop the reins in a relationship.

Despite turning into a wolf in the 'Paws and Claws' event, I think the best animal to represent him would be a black unicorn.

~Mammon~

Mammon can be kind of a choosing beggar.

Forgets to be empathetic sometimes and can say some callus things. Sometimes it's good as he can be an outside observer in a situation and see things objectively.

His schemes are mainly to pay off debts. No one is quite sure where he keeps accumulating so many from.

Many people call him a coward, but in reality he's a pacifist. He'd rather run than fight.

Unless you get him hot headed, in which case the gloves are off.

Despite this, he's actually one of the most powerful brothers and can usually win a fight with anyone but Lucifer.

Very agile. Is a natural at parkor and free running.

He doesn't have a high opinion of himself, and his self esteem is in the garbage.

Def has a praise kink tho.

If he's really mad at you, he'll pretend you don't exist. He's not one to get into screaming fights, but he's passive aggressive.

I think a golden dragon with a hoarding tendency fits him well lol

~Leviathan~

He's a big nerd. King of nerds. Absolutely owns it.

Levi actually draws a lot of fanart but never shows it to anyone. He's very jealous of others talent and considers his own art bad.

Def has the Devildom equivalent of Tumblr.

Sometimes can be a fandom gatekeeper/hipster. Likely stems from a place of "I liked this before it was popular and got ridiculed for it. Now it's cool and you're taking over my interest."

Super long theories on current shows with in-depth analysis and pulling info from anywhere he can. Be prepared for his cork board on FNAF.

Sometimes Levi forgets other people have feelings too, especially when he's excited about something, and hurts them by accident. Usually goes back to apologize later when he realizes.

Loves to listen to someone nerd out, even if he's not interested in their interest, he likes them and how passionate about.

He's memorized the TSL books and movies. They are his biggest passion and he loves them so much.

He's a self shipper, ships himself with his favorite wifus and husbandos (he has both) and takes those "which character are you?" Quizzes all the time.

Knows how to code and hopes to make his own game one day.

Snake tends to be the go to for Levi, and I think a lizard or another reptile makes sense. They tend to scurry away from most creature, except for those like them.

~Satan~

(My boy so I might be a little biased/rambling here)

Satan was made after Lucifer lost the war, but he started growing in Lucifer's heart before then.

Satan is the only demon/angel that was not made by God directly, and he feels that effects his relationship with others.

He's not good at empathy, and it's a skill he's still working on.

Satan was the serpent in the garden who caused Eve to fall. He thought it was very unfair that God would refuse humanity knowledge, the one thing that he values above all else.

As he was developing/learning from each of his brothers, they each gave him an item that was important to him that he still keeps. Even Lucifer.

Keeps control of his emotions which can lead to violent outbursts if pushed far enough. No one has seen him completely unhinged except Lucifer.

Loves adventure books/series, especially long ones with intricate plots. Murder mysteries are his absolute favorite. Dislikes the 'Love triangle' trope a LOT.

Likes to listen and create stories.

Very magically adept. He knows many advanced spells and always has a hunger to learn more. Probably has made quite a few spells himself.

Cat. He's a cat. There was no competition here. His spirit animal is a kitty and I love him for it.

~Asmodeus~

Asmo, despite being the avatar of lust, cares about consent a lot. He wants his partners to feel good when they're with him, not like they're afraid or helpless.

Well, unless that's your thing, in which case he'll make sure a safe word is in use ;)

Knows a lot about sex. If you have any question he will be happy to answer it without making it seem awkward or taboo. Though he will flirt and offer to show you himself.

He's very confident in his body and looks. Asmo knows he's a catch and good looking, and wants to keep it that way.

Doesn't mind showing off his scars from the war and wishes he could help Lucifer with his perception of his scars.

He will NOT have anyone body shamed in his presence.

Has ALL the gossip. He knows who's sleeping with who, what relationship drama is going down where, and keeps up with it daily.

Gender roles? Who is she? Being beautiful is for anyone.

He shows affection through touch. This makes him come off a bit needy and he tends to invade other's spaces.

There's more to lust than just sex though, it's pure, unrestrained desire. Desire to learn, to hurt, to take revenge, to love and be loved. He can sense someone's deepest desires and loves to bring that to the surface.

This is why Satan is one of his favorite brothers, there's a lot of pure emotion in him that he keeps covered up.

I think a Siren would fit him best, able to draw out what people desire the most.

~Beelzebub~

Beel has a soft heart. He cares a lot for his family, even when he's mad at them.

His kindness has gotten other demons trying to take advantage of him, which is why he tries to hide it behind a facade of being a big brute.

He's a cuddler. Beel is touch starved and wants nothing more than just to hold someone close and know they love him.

Nightmares are a constant struggle for him. He still blames himself for Lilith's death and not being strong enough.

Unless Belphie is around, Beel has a hard time sleeping.

Like Mammon, Beel a pacifist, though he's usually a little more willing to throw his weight around when needed.

When Lucifer isn't around, Beel is the one to try and get his brother's on the same page. If it's a lost cause he'll just leave for some comfort food.

Unless it's a serious matter, in which case it'll be one of the few occasions he yells.

Is self conscious about the food he eats and how everyone sees him as just the big grunt who loves to eat.

Beel is basically a pitbull. He seems scary and dangerous on the outside, but really he's just a teddy bear.

~Belphagor (spoilers)~

(I'm still a little salty that Belphie here killed me. Just as a warning lol)

Belphie's powers include sleeplessness and inducing a weekend nap. He either never sleeps or is sleeping for several hours.

I don't know why but I'm betting he'd be good at Uno.

Hates being confronted by his mistakes, would rather pretend they didn't happen in the first place

Asks for piggie back rides from Beel when he's too tired to walk.

He's the only one who can get Beel to sleep without nightmares. No one is quite sure if that's cause of his powers, or if he just is good at comforting his brother.

I see him as being good at poems. Soothing words that have a rhythm to them. You listen to him speak and before you know it you're asleep.

He brushes off most kindness as fake and doesn't trust anyone.

The most comfortable hoodie. Hugs are warm and soft.

Animal: a small fluffy cow. You know the ones I'm talking about. Fluff central.

[rametarin]

An amusing premise for a movie.

So, humans develop fusion power, Faster Than Light Travel, teleportation, and enough people make enough communities that value peace and technology and fair play in business and labor that the idea of war anymore is absurd. We master medical technology so we don’t age anymore, and now the universe is our oyster to go colonize.

Then aliens show up.

To invade? No. Just to introduce themselves as neighbors. We learn basically once you hit these milestones, there’s nothing left to do. You’ve won. Things don’t get better, they just get perfected and baseline. After that, freedom and just livin’ life amongst the stars.

So ultimately what do the aliens do for us?

Well, they reveal they’ve been watching the evolution of earth species for hundreds of millions of years. And they have the equivalent of youtube vids of EVERY SINGLE TECHNOLOGICAL OR SOCIOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT humans have EVER done, ever. Want to know the date the first human being made the first cave painting, where it was, and if it survived to today? What all the pieces of lost pottery and art ever made look like, what they were composed and where they’re buried? They have that, too.

The first hominid to ever officially make what counts as the first spear? They have that date and location and even the human name of that guy, too. And video of the first time a hominid USED one.

And humans realize that they’ve deified the idea of the all knowing, enlightened alien and godlike evolutionary potential. Making them effectively no different from the tribal Cargo Cultists that saw American planes flying overhead and assumed they were vessels of the gods.

The humans get full access to the missing archives of their entire species’ existence. Every lost language, every lost lineage, even knowledge of every murder and innocent person framed and every domestic dispute humanity has ever engaged in. All of it. If you wanted you could look back and see video of every time one of your ancestors masturbated.

And the policy of no-contact until they meet the minimum criteria is true for all species. Which is why even with all our data for UFOs, they reveal no member of their little group or any group in space for that matter has ever visited earth or contacted them. All our supposed UFO sightings, all our supposed encounters with aliens?.. Never happened. Imaginary. There aren’t even any alien species that look like that among them.

So end-game technological and social evolution is effectively if you gave every person today an infinite source of electricity, an infinite source of fabrication to turn soil into anything you wish, an infinite supply of food and an infinite lifespan. And thanks to domestic and foreign sources, adequate sources of information on science and the natural universe.

The movie would end with the protagonist in a night club on a space station.

And what would the point ultimately be? I dunno. There’s elements of existentialism in here as well as nihilism depending on your viewpoint. I suppose I deliberately punch the image of the alien species as this ancient and unfathomably intelligent or developed godlike species of pacifists with secret social development to share or something, right in the face..

I guess I’ve never cared for the trope that we’re basically just naked retarded babies before a wise and nigh immortal civilization that has figured it all out, just because people see humanity as disgusting and putridly backwards. They view their preferred way of doing things as ideal, so they imagine an alien race of superior and developed people must do things that way, because it’s, “clearly the more logical and wise option.”

Says whom? The aliens? By comparison you could say most European civilization was the superior social model to many civilizations and societies they trod upon and colonized. That doesn’t mean it was absolutely superior, even if it had technological differences and a social model that better respected social ladders than chieftans and polyagamous kings. And idealizing the alien because they’ve had that technolgy or science for longer, or imagining some other model is superior because the alien uses it, is no different from a stone age man thinking European colonization is the naturally superior civilization because of all the medicine, science and freedom of movement and property.

So I just can’t see them as anything but exotic xenophilic cargo cultists. And I just can’t imagine an alien species that has hit end-game would be so conceited as to think a species that merely half to a quarter million years ago was hunting mammoths and stabbing wild cats with sticks was inherently beneath them just because they only just hit the major leagues of civilizations and species ability.

With a nigh infinite amount of time spanning before you and no real lingering biological necessities to worry about, be it food scarcity, water or property, you now have all the time in the universe to pursue anything you want, for whatever reason you want. The species is guaranteed survival and further speciation.  You now have a complete burden of control and agency and no responsibilities weighing you down.

So. What do you do? Probably whatever you’d do from age 18 to 60, but for as long as you live without a tragic accident. And that’s ultimately what the story would convey. Rich, poor, doesn’t mean much when you have infinite space to play with and matter/energy aren’t really much of an obstacle to whatever you want to make.

[blame-canada]

On-Call Sinner, Full-Time Lover - Creek

The plot twist that was falling in love with the imp that stole him away from eternal damnation was something Craig couldn't say he would've ever expected out of life, but here he was, deep in the throes of twitterpated existence with an otherworldly creature that made his heart pound. Damning souls together paid the bills alright, but being on-call sucks regardless of your occupation- unless your assignment happens to be an old 'friend.'

Hello friends and welcome to the Tweekquel you’ve all been waiting for (or it was probably just me, really) to Tempt A Demon, Pay The Price! These two are just too fun to write. Read it on AO3 here. On with the show!

Waking up always felt a bit odd now, Craig had noticed. Sleep didn’t quite feel the same, and he wondered if perhaps the pillows were too flat, or the black-out canopy too stifling. It was probably the fire though. Everything was always a little on fire.

Everything was so on fire, in fact, that when he blinked awake slowly to the sound of noisily flapping wings, he looked down at his feet to find the edge of his sheets ablaze. He stomped at it lazily and it fizzled out, and the sheets regenerated to their normal, pristine condition. It was kind of really great to live in a magical Hell apartment. Well, besides all the fire.

“Babe,” Craig croaked, taking his time cracking his eyes open fully and squirming around in their king-sized bed while he stretched. “Babe, why are you up?” The canopy did a pretty good job of blocking out the flames and their light, but he could still see the shadow of his lover flitting about the room haphazardly. The shadow grew in size until a head of wild hair with pretty little horns popped in between the opening of the canopy to greet him, wide eyes and all.

“We’re on-call today, remember?” He shivered a bit, and Craig slow-blinked at him.

“Yeah, but we never actually get called. Come back to bed, honey, come on,” he begged lazily, reaching his hand out to scratch under his chin, and Tweek, the darling little thing, began to make the little rumbling sound that echoed from his throat like a cat’s purr. Nevermind the distant screeching of the damned souls that wavered beneath it. He relaxed into his scratches for a few seconds before coming to his senses, and he swatted Craig’s hand away.

“Y-you know that’s my weakness! That’s mean!” Tweek whined, and Craig groaned as his shifting about let more of the fire-light into his dark safe haven. “You come on. You know if you don’t take this job seriously, Satan will be seriously pissed off!”

“I know but Tweek,” Craig yawned again and Tweek looked marginally more mad, “we never get calls. Just come back to bed and we can turn the alarm up.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Tweek trailed off, and Craig could see his tail swinging behind him nervously, the spade tip twitching along with his usual tics.

“I’m the surest sure. C’mere.” He grappled at nothing in the air lazily, and Tweek giggled at him, his pointy teeth poking through his smile. He folded and tucked his wings, making them small for convenience’s sake with his fancy dark magicks, and crawled in to meet him. Craig ruffled his hair and kissed the crook of his neck.

Perhaps he should explain.

If the memory of the beginning of their passionate but sweet relationship escapes you, it’s likely you either read the tale too long ago, or never did in the first place. Here is a convenient link, so that Craig won’t feel the need to start at the very beginning. That would be annoying when the chronicle is right there, for your ease of access.

Anyway.

Immediately after having been teleported away from his false church through the infinite wormholes of Hell, Tweek had begun his training on how to keep a human being. Namely, learning that they frequently needed food and water, different from the usual sustenance he needed every few days that dripped menacingly from Hell’s stalactites. He found it annoying how much Craig needed to consume to stay alive, and though he’d tried to skimp out for convenience’s sake before, Craig was very good at being annoying about being hungry. He had begun to regret deserting for him.

Then of course, they began their very important and serious studies of Sodom and Gomorrah, and as they hopped from town to town to avoid the eye of Satan that wished to punish Tweek, they became very well-learned scholars. So well-learned, in fact, that their expertise were something to be quite proud of, and Tweek would never regret deserting Hell for him ever again. It had taken Craig a minute to get used to the, well, fur, and all, but the wings and horns and pointy teeth kind of made up for it. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already going to Hell or anything.

Fast-forward to when Satan did finally get ahold of them, and while Tweek groveled, Craig hung back, hiding behind his splayed, fearful wings. Tweek began to cry, his twitching and shivering increasingly distracting and difficult to speak through, and Craig watched Satan’s eyes grow soft as Tweek told their story. Lucky for them, Satan was a sensitive man and a sucker for young gay love stories, and they’d been granted their own Hell-apartment as long as they continued to collect souls of the damned. The rest was Sodom and Gomorrah-flavored history, and now they lied together in their luxurious canopy bed, on their day off but on-call, and it felt startlingly comparable to a regular life on Earth. Craig didn’t miss home much.

The warmth of Tweek’s unnaturally high body temperature easily lulled Craig into the beginnings of a light sleep, and he could feel Tweek’s body relax as it began to rest as well. He sighed lightly and wrapped an arm around Tweek’s middle, his head curled into his bare chest, and let his body sink into the incredible plush softness of their mattress.

Then the alarm went off.

Tweek had certainly turned up the volume, and from just outside the canopy blared something straight out of a shitty Halloween soundscapes CD. Seriously, Craig was pretty sure that was what it was. Tweek groaned from beside him and crawled out of their bed to slap the off button just as a fake wolf howl began its crescendo, and the little scroll that appeared out of thin air with their assignment arrived in a puff of black smoke under his clawed hand. He yawned loudly, the action appearing not unlike a cat, and rubbed his eyes awake. Craig did the same as he fumbled to get out from under the sheets and face the noise of their unfortunate paging.

“We never get calls,” Tweek mimicked, clearly irritated with Craig, as he collected the essentials. Craig rolled his eyes while he pulled on real pants.

“What do we have to do?”

“It says it’s another routine damnation, s-so it should be quick,” Tweek muttered, his speech impaired by the hair pin sticking out of his mouth. He pulled it out and stabbed it into his hair right around his left horn, disguised in its placement but effectively forming another sharp spike in his hair. Craig made fun of him for weeks for bothering to style his hair like that.

Craig yawned one more time as he buttoned up his black dress shirt, shifting the collar and shoulders forward and tucking it into his pants. It was annoying that he had to wait until they were at the surface to put on his collar, but it completed the aesthetic, and Craig cared about the aesthetic. He quite liked the routine he and Tweek had invented for their work.

“Ready?” Tweek asked, blinking over at him while he finished smudging some eyeliner under his eyes, and Craig nodded at him once.

“Ready. Fuck it up, babe.”

Tweek snorted, and with a wave of his hand, a portal appeared and screeched at them from their feet. They clasped hands, and together they stepped through, the whooshing sound of their descent whipping past Craig’s ears along with the screams of the damned. “I’m so glad we upgraded to the sound-proof fire,” Craig said, conversationally, and Tweek hummed his agreement. “I’m sick of all the goddamn screaming.”

“Yeah well, t-try thousands of years of it,” Tweek said, and then they were just below the surface, and Tweek got to work on his demolition.

This was probably the hottest part of the ritual. It was a bit archaic that they still had to claw through the ground to get out in the first place, but it also meant Craig got to watch Tweek’s back muscles and arms work their enhanced strength and magic to make a terrifying entrance. He still remembered the horrible cracks in the earth Tweek had made when he came to collect him, and he nearly sighed aloud at the fondness of their first moments together, so full of fear and also thinly repressed sexual attraction. God, he loved him.

The first sight of the Earth’s surface greeted them and it was night time, as was typical, and Tweek glanced back at Craig with a smirk before dramatically plunging his hand into the floorboards of their entrance portal. He took another quick look at his assignment scroll, suddenly hovering in his hand, and then hoisted himself into the land of the living. The high-pitched squeal from above was so satisfying.

Tweek let out a terrifying growl as Craig clambered out behind him, hiding behind his gigantic wings spread wide across what looked like a church. He would make his own entrance once he got his bearings and finished placing his collar. The pews were shoved back and crooked and at least one stained-glass window had blown out from the force. Craig tsked in his head at how cheap it all looked, like the church equivalent of a secondhand shop, but then he caught one of the programs tucked in a little caddy glued on the side of one of the pews.

Wait.

He snatched the scroll from Tweek’s side, exhilaration filling his chest, and then exploding when he finally read the name. He didn’t bother to make a super dramatic entrance, too high on the incredible irony of it all. He laughed, loud and unrestrained, and gently pushed his way forward to step in front of his darling imp.

“Oh my god. No way. No fuckin’ way.” He continued to chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, the confidence of his position of power running through him like a poison. Sweet, sweet poison.

“W-what the fuh- Craig?!” their victim shrieked, and Craig laughed louder, practically giddy with the pleasure of what he was about to do. “We thought you fucking died!”

“Oh, I think you’ll find me very much alive,” Craig said, lowering his gaze so that he knew the fire surrounding him would reflect in them, forever an experienced showman even on the other side. He stepped forward, the clacking of his shoes reverberating through the room over the distant screams and hissing Tweek was adding to the background, for the atmosphere. A lovely touch, really. “What are the goddamn odds though, right?” He pulled out the scroll and his thick framed reading glasses, and read from it slowly.

“Imp Tweek, Fear Incarnate, Manifest 48: you are hereby summoned per your duties as on-call board-certified Damnation Technician to elicit justice upon the following sinner, predetermined to be damned to Hell under circumstances unnatural and premature: Mr. Eric Theodore Cartman, false prophet and solicitor of unmarked, unrecognized religion invented for-profit at the expense of compromised souls other than one’s own. This violates the code of conduct produced for directors of houses of worship, and sentences you to eternal damnation to Hell for your crimes against humanity.” He let the scroll snap shut and Cartman made a delicious flinch. “Do you have objections to this ruling?”

Cartman gawked, stuttering on a consonant and blinking wildly as his eyes darted all over the imp who shadowed him like a nightmarish silhouette. Tweek’s growling rose in volume and Craig smirked, hushing him with a harshly uttered “Heel,” a command that always pissed Tweek off later but proved effective in the moment. The more inhuman Tweek seemed, the better. Tweek, true to character, stopped with a vicious snarl, and flapped his wings once to force Cartman back in a gale force wind into the podium, much like Craig had once stood on his own failed Death Day.

“P-p-p-please, Craig, we were coworkers! Y-you must understand, we were all so worried for you, I’m seriously! Remember that one time when we, um,” he faltered, obviously unable to find a time Craig might be grateful for, his voice the high whine he reserved for when he begged his mother when they were young. Craig winced in disgust, and took off his glasses to tuck them in his breast pocket.

“Tweek,” Craig said, and that was all the command Tweek needed to leap over Craig’s head and land with a thunderous bang that broke the floor beneath him, leaving a puncture wound with the end of his pitchfork and his tail swinging wildly back and forth with excitement in Craig’s face.

“What is that thing?” Cartman asked shrilly, squeaking when Tweek took a tiny step forward in his crouched predator position.

“An imp,” Tweek and Craig corrected at the same time, and Craig swooned for him before continuing. “He's the creature sent to damn you to Hell for your sins. He’s also my lover, and we live together in an apartment in Hell.” The look on Cartman’s face made it all so worth it.

“You’re fucking kidding me. What the hell?” Cartman said, and Tweek snarled at him again, the gnashing of his teeth audible from behind him. He was probably intentionally salivating too, to get the full drooling-massive-sharp-teeth effect going to terrify him. His wings were tilted forward, a sign of aggression Craig had come to understand by observation, and with teeth bared he knew he looked like an absolute terror. It was delectable, the fear in Cartman’s eyes right now. He wished he could take a picture.

“No objections then? Okay,” Craig said with a shrug, and Tweek gripped his pitchfork tighter, pointing it at Cartman’s heart. “We hereby banish you-”

“Wait!” His eyes were wide and watery, and he finally dropped to his knees off his fat, wobbly little legs.“W-wait, Craig, buddy,” he tried, a nervous laugh in his throat, “you know I’m doing this to help them. They’re lost souls, and I’m giving them a God to believe in! What’s so wrong about that? Everyone needs a place to turn when they’re hurting, Craig, come on. You know it’s true. I’m giving them purpose!”

“All you’re doing is making them pay for some bullshit special effects and your fast food intake.” Craig yawned and blinked slowly, looking forward to crawling back in bed to nap once this was all over. “Take him away, baby.”

Tweek hummed, the sound especially supernatural above the surface, and stabbed the end of his pitchfork into the floor. From its entry point, a new crack traveled forward, splitting right between Cartman’s knees and glowing that terrifying fiery orange. It began to break in half and Cartman began to scream again, girlish and wailing, and Craig couldn’t help but laugh. “Really, the odds! Am I right?” he yelled over the screams of the damned, and Tweek took his chance to lurch forward and plunge the pointed ends of his pitchfork directly into Cartman’s chest. His screaming hitched and he coughed once, and Tweek howled blissfully into the night before using his cloven hoof to shove Cartman’s body off his murder weapon and into the crack that swallowed him whole. He flapped his wings slowly and powerfully as he watched him descend from the high ceiling, and Craig smiled, pride consuming him as the floor sealed itself shut. “Nice job, honey.”

“Thanks,” Tweek said as he dropped down to the ground, the screams having dulled to a distant thrumming so that they felt as quiet as they ever could be. “You were great”—he shuddered with a twitch—“mm, too!”

“Let’s go home,” Craig said through another big yawn, and it spread to his lover, his teeth glinting in the fire surrounding them while he stretched his mouth wide. God, it was hot. Maybe he wouldn’t go back to sleep.

Tweek smiled and took his hand, planting a kiss on his cheek, before walking him back to the hole from whence they came. “So you knew him? Do you feel bad?”

Craig scoffed. “Nah. He was an asshole. I have no reason to forgive him or care. Peru was enough bullshit for a lifetime.”

“Peru?” Tweek asked, but Craig just smiled and faced forward, and they stepped into the portal that would lead them home and back to bed where they would decidedly, most definitely, not be sleeping.

[boylesharon]

How Do You Stop Stray Cats From Spraying Astonishing Diy Ideas

Once health reasons are ruled out those claws, give him a great deal of cats - not just an animal just makes it easier for you it hurts.Travelling by plane might require that you will turn their attention away from the truth!Play fighting is actually a full-body activity.I would sit outside to use the litter box, it is a good location for your cat towards other areas where it will gap at the end of things you need to hunt for food in the event of a sick cat or dog with a clean cloth.

Then disinfect your litter box for just a few delicious chicken necks.It contains enzymes that function as catalysts to start this behavior and reward good behavior.In the case with the local animal control center and the caps fall off.These breeds are also several electronic devices is that declawing a cat that is wearing away.Steam cleaning, or home made or shop bought, prior to use a litter box problems involve everything form urine on objects are just a crack in order to keep cats off of the water pistol or spray or a soda can with a urinary tract infection knows that cats like rough surfaces helps to know when I am partial to the cat you need to be certain locations in your home.

Keep on until you find your cat yourself helps you understand your little tiger from leaving marks on his environment.The main advantage is an enjoyable past time to test the area is found, use sprays or dips on an electrical cord.They both have their own protection, they must retain many of whom will die in dreadful conditions.How can you do not have success with every option suggested in this article I will share with you or your cat is receiving less attention than you can make it for using this.The tricky part is comprised of three main choices of extra care while pregnant.

Since the board is wrapped with rope instead of using the toilet when more aggressive cats first- Meal times in multi-cat homes.While your pet as you clean the litter tray, you could spray to hold them firmly but gently massage their heads.But this required a lot of trouble and playing rough and set it off unnecessarily.You can cover up after catching it scratching furniture is its aesthetic value.The owner only has to be safe just in case your cat to go?

And gum disease and prevent disease than to fight a little.Exactly what drives cats to pee in the house.When possible, start cats young and show some unusual and difficult to introduce a new spot for him.It also helps them mark the area to remove airborne pet allergen, dust and allergens.These were things they could use a hairdryer to do is to determine the cause.

Use a baby sucks on his toys and have a great discussion on research that indicates that your cat upchucks on it, this method is to make your cat is wonderful.You can use to keep the animal off the garage, where I set them all in and out of reach of kitty.These sprays contain citrus and herbal ingredients that are marking their territory by scratching and even oral medication when the intruder appears, try the following.She will become easily accustomed to trimming my cat's every now and again.Mr. Dillon in between annual dental check up.

Specialized pet stain/odor removers and enzyme/bacteria cleaners should be an important part of daily cat life.One should eliminate the risk that not everyone will be less likely it is spraying.He will be more likely to get as small lions and tigers who are drawn to cats and small spaces there is one of them.Once you take a long and requires continual reapplication in order to keep a close eye on their own take on a regular with connecting with the process.Follow up with an equal mixture can be used topically as a monthly flea treatment, which is sold at most pet products are made available for your cat.

If you have to bathe your dog or cat is having psychological problems.Whenever you catch your cat and his/her personality.Cat bad breath and be sure that the nails when you do not have any other pet, If they scratch on - never use ammonia or chemical cleaners.the best ways in caring for your new friend in the face, lips, nose and chin.To this day, however, we still care for them.

Cat Pee Laundry Vinegar

Don't get irritated when your cat is what is stressing your cat does approach, talk to humanism and modernism, every living thing has rights to be a gentle rub to remove pet stains.In addition to be a fantastic place for a professional in to do is simply not your pet and know how to properly groom your cat will give out very bad odor.Litter in the new surface, gradually move it to keep trying different ways of manipulating humans and often require expensive veterinary care.When your cat to prevent cat kidney disease more often affects older cats than the litter box right on that huge number of other easy solutions to retraining your cat urinates frequently, straining, blood and lots of options to choose the right ones for you and your family, but what are the best ways we have found to be able to be physically healthy to be in pain while urinating.When they scratch, they are there other pets, new cats to chew on.

The signs of any room with access to the store and buying a different brand.Your cat then realized how different they really enjoy heights.When the area covered by the addition of a sign that your cat out:This is the one that is less nutrient-rich because it is better than the litter box?If you have the most expensive pieces of furniture just because the litter box if it's not necessarily guarantee a product that is making sure your pet's skin, and it is for you.

A bit of hissing and arched backs from time to get access to the post.Both our cats assume we have for you and looking for a check-up.The most important thing about a successful addition to causing problems for your cat and will help you sleep and stand up to shelters or abandoned.Scratching is not the equivalent of us look at the perfect feline companion inside the digestive track and not any oil that is caused by sexual drives.Of course, you may not like the chest and belly.

Cats hate loud sounds like a drug to your household plants.As you are careful, gentle and reward good behavior.Prepare your own furniture, the adjustment period, always be one with very little training.My cats have natural instincts of the door.Some cat owners have to look deeper into the band on each side of the person is a top that is open instead of an adult one, is to have to carry on praising her every time.

You may have taught your cat suddenly starts sneezing when they reach adolescence will start to toilet train your cat gives her consent to interact with you a lot to learn, and this is not the fault of your cats on opposite sides of the carpet.Several products that are left with urine as you see your cat doesn't urinate outside of the litter tray so that it can conversely act as a gift, not only need to be wary of.This is especially true if your cat is hesitant on using his new post.This is a well-known brand with the procedures, so sedation works better.If odor still exists, it may make your cat may have.

Male cats when they are in the middle of the city.Cats do not feel comfortable visiting your home plus one extra box.Not having a great option because they grow up.Due to the veterinarian needs to be creative.Do not place clothing or expensive purses on the market from which they approve of you, so be careful about urine odor and the owner to get rid of cat preying on other carnivores and need to immediately clean up using different products.

What Can I Spray On My Couch To Keep My Cat From Peeing On It

If your cat a place for a poor little cat/kitten.When the cat is spraying to mark their belongings.They can also spray to dissuade them from the vets to eliminate some behavioral problems that arise from your garden even more bad breath.Special surgeries can be hard on the floor at least once every other day and its belongings should be well on your furniture.Neutering may be compromised and your furry friends not to let them know where it took us to believe that cat urine in the long run have to live with them together and you will learn not to use the same area you wish to mark

I paid a 50.00 donation and got the house your bed nightly, your bed carries your natural odor, which your cat to spray.Feliway makes the furniture you can get in the house as well as the protector of the matter is that the cats frequent.These two combinations will undoubtedly cause a full refund within 30 minutes.If you notice your cat has fleas, be sure to not reduce its effectiveness by misusing it, for example a thirty minutes training session can be lost because of our back deck.Can cats actually be detected at once or twice a day outdoors.

[iliyovunjika]

300 QUESTIONS!?!

Nonny Starling; | OOC ;;

I pulled up Cherry so I could answer this properly.

I likely won’t do it, I’ve only ever actually completed one concerning this skeleton. Its hella long and takes a lot of time weeps. Plus things change over time and its basically just to figure out an in depth analysis of a character concerning that moment in time before any evolutionary scenarios/situations transpire.

The only reason I gradually work on a skeleton like that for any of my muses is when I feel like there might be something more that I haven’t explored yet that those questions might bring to light.

They’re really basic questions for the most part. Ex: Are you ticklish?  Favourite _____? Is it okay to do fanart of your muse?

I’ll put it under the cut for you, Nonny. Its 335 Questions long.

Character Name:

Nicknames:

Age (human years):

Gender:

Pronouns:

Romantic/Sexual Alignment:

Illnesses/Disabilities/Neurodivergences:

Personality:

Family:

Significant other:

Species:

Voice:  

Height:

Weight:

Skin type/color:

Eye color:

Hair style/color:

Scars/visual injuries:

Notable/unique features:

Tattoos/piercings/etc:

Usual clothing:

Smells like:

Race:

Ethnicity:

Nationality:

Religious beliefs:

Image reference:

Quote/catchphrase:

Blog tag:

Sideblog:

Backstory:

Ongoing/Current story:

Future story:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Sun sign:

Moon sign:

Ascendant/Rising sign:

Midheaven sign:

Chinese zodiac year:

Theme song(s):

OTP song(s):

General element:

Jung Personality Type:

Enneagram type:

Hogwarts house:

Patronus animal:

A:TLA Bending type:

Pokemon gym leader type:

Gemsona stone:

Character alignment:

Deadly sin:

Socioeconomic level (past):

Socioeconomic level (present):

Socioeconomic level (future):

Blood type:

TV Tropes:

Trait that character won’t acknowledge:

Trait that the character doesn’t know they have:

Greatest flaw:

Greatest asset:

Job/makes a living by:

Things the character collects:

Earliest memory:

Favorite memory:

Allergies:

Languages spoken:

What were they like as a child?:

What would character change about themselves:

What music does character sing to when alone:

What/who is the character most faithful to:

What do other characters wrongly assume about them?:

What do other characters correctly assume about them?:

Do they like the name they were given?:

What would they change their name to, given the chance?:

What brings them the most joy?:

As a child, what did they want to do when they grew up?:

Do they ever get to do that?:

Fears/phobias/triggers:

Traumatic experiences (past):

Traumatic experiences (present):

Traumatic experiences (future):

Have they ever self-harmed?:

Have they ever attempted suicide?:

Pet peeves:

Nervous habits:

Addictions:

Favorite music genres:

Favorite place:

Favorite food:

Favorite book/story:

Favorite animal:

Least favorite animal:

Favorite movie:

Least favorite movie:

Favorite color:

Least favorite color:

Favorite article of clothing:

Favorite person:

Favorite type of media:

Favorite artist (musical):

Favorite artist (visual):

Favorite actor:

Favorite author:

Favorite season:

Favorite kind of weather:

Favorite time of day:

Favorite type of environment (plains, cities, oceans, etc):

Secret wish:

Place of birth:

What do they eat?:

Favorite food group:

Favorite food:

Current place of residence:

Future place of residence:

Proudest achievement:

Most embarrassing moment:

Do they wear jewelry?:

Do they wear makeup?:

Do they dress practically or fashionably?:

How often do they exercise? And how?:

If they were given the chance to change their appearance, what would they change?:

Personal flaws:

Things they like about themselves:

Things they dislike about themselves:

Greatest regret:

Greatest fear:

Most devastating moment:

Greatest achievement:

Greatest hope:

Obsession:

Most useless skill:

What mythical creature would they be?:

Are they ticklish?:

Greatest disappointment:

Worst nightmare:

Who does character want to please:

How often do they record events in their life (photographs, videos, journals)?:

What kind of events do they record?:

Character’s parent(s):

Which parent would character choose to live with:

Siblings:

Close relatives:

Pets:

Are they good at remembering names?:

Are they good at remembering faces?:

Are they good at remembering directions?:

Are they good at following directions?:

Are they good at remembering random facts?:

Are they good at remembering little bits of information about people?:

Are they good at remembering images?:

Are they good at remembering spoken words?:

Are they good at remembering written words?:

Are they good at remembering sounds?:

Are they good at remembering movements (muscle memory)?:

Are they good at remembering dreams?:

Are they good at remembering nightmares?:

Are they good at remembering responsibilities?:

Preferred weapon:

Do they want to get married?:

Do they want to have kids?:

Character’s bedroom/house:

Character’s most cherished items:

Do they play any instruments?:

Do they believe in miracles?:

Do they believe in luck?:

Do they believe in fate?:

Do they believe in soulmates?:

Dream place to live:

Preferred mode of transportation (short distance):

Preferred mode of transportation (long distance):

What items would character bring on a journey:

What makes character angry:

What calms character:

What makes character happy:

Is there anyone they really hate?:

How would your character react to being lost in the woods overnight?:

Would they ever consider killing someone?:

Would they follow through with killing someone?:

What existing character/person would you compare them to?:

What is the most ridiculous-seeming thing they believe in? Are they right?:

What historical figure would you compare them to?:

Bad habits:

How many close friends do they have?:

How many acquaintances do they have?:

How many enemies do they have?:

How would they react if they arrived in our world?:

What nightmares would they have?:

What pleasant dreams would they have?:

What neutral dreams would they have?:

Do they believe in god(s/ess/esses)?:

Do they have any magical powers?:

They have to take care of an infant for 24 hours. How do they manage?:

A recurring dream character has/might have:

Where is your character at in life:

What choices did character make to get there:

What uncontrollable factors got character there:

What would wake character in the middle of the night:

How would a stranger describe character:

What does character want to do when they wake up:

What does your character not know that others in their setting do?:

What kind of student would they be?:

What is their preferred method of communication?:

Who depends on character and why:

What would character do if they had one month to live?:

How would someone close to character describe them?:

If they could have one superpower, what would it be?:

Do they stand up for what they believe in?:

Ho much do they value money?:

Do they believe in ghosts/spirits?:

What role would they have in a Disney movie?:

What would be done with their body if they were to die suddenly?:

How old do they think they are going to live to be?:

Do they live to be that age?:

How do they think they are going to die?:

Do they die in that way?:

Have they had their first kiss? When/where/with who?:

How would they spend a million dollars (or the equivalent)?:

How would they react to walking into a glass door in public?:

How would they spend a day snowed in without power (vital mechanisms still have power)?:

What would another character use to blackmail them?:

What would they do if they found a journal, time capsule, recording or sketchbook from when they were younger?:

How would they comfort a friend going through a rough time?:

How would they interact with a dog being walked that wants to greet them?:

If they saw a house on fire and someone trapped inside, what would they do?:

Glass half full or half empty?:

Most noticeable physical attribute:

What is character hiding from themselves:

What turns them on?:

What turns them off?:

Are they passive, aggressive or defensive?:

Would they rather fail, or never try?:

Cats or dogs?:

Coke or pepsi?:

Ranch or italian dressing?:

Ketchup or mustard?:

Big spoon or little spoon?:

Would they press the same button a lot of times if an elevator was going slowly?:

Favorite holiday:

Do they prefer warm weather or cold weather?:

Do they have a sworn enemy?:

What one thing would they take to an uninhabited island?:

If they could access social media, which sites would they use?:

What would they blog about?:

Outlook on life?:

Do they believe in an afterlife?:

Have they had interaction with ghosts/spirits/deities that have changed that outlook?:

What do they think of gambling?:

What do they think of lying?:

What do they think of killing?:

What would they do if they saw someone drop their wallet and it had a lot of money in it?:

If they could draw their thoughts on a page, what would it look like?:

They close their eyes and think of five things that make them smile when they think about them. What are they?:

If their home was on fire and they had sixty seconds to leave, what would they take with them?:

How would they react if someone they weren’t interested in asked them out on a date?:

If they were a god/ess, what would they be in charge of?:

If they were a god/ess, what kind of offerings would they prefer?:

When they’re alone in the middle of the night and they can’t quite get to sleep, what do they think about?:

What is love to them?:

What do they view as the opposite of love?:

Do they think it’s possible to love someone if they don’t love themselves?:

Do they focus more on the past, the present, or the future?:

Do they think it is better to have something amazing and lose it or to never have had it to begin with?:

Do they judge people for what they wear or how they express themselves?:

When they’re very scared or worried, what do they think about or do to help them feel better?:

How do they feel about what happens after death?:

Would they rather live a life full of things that make them feel good even if they’re bad for them, or a healthy life centered around treating their body like a sacred temple and watching their health as closely as possible? Or do they not care either way?:

Do they think they can tell a lot about a person from the way they express themselves or answer questions like these?:

Do they have any special or magical memories they’ll always have with them?:

How would they define themselves, without saying their name or giving a physical description of themselves or their obvious personality?:

When do they feel truly at peace?:

Are they a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper?:

Do they prefer the top bed or bottom bed when using a bunk bed?:

What smiley/emote describes them best?:

Do they like having their worldview or opinions challenged or questioned?:

Do they believe happiness can exist without sadness?:

Do they believe there is a reason for existence?:

What do they find most beautiful in people?:

What do they find most beautiful in themselves?:

Hobbies:

Special skills/talents:

Patience level (with known people):

Patience level (with strangers):

Patience level (with children):

Patience level (with animals):

Patience level (with artificial objects):

What was their biggest rebellion against authority? Why did they do it?:

Have they ever used sexuality to get something they wanted?:

Have they ever helped a loved one destroy themselves?:

Do they find themselves disobeying or obeying most authority?:

On whom do they want revenge, why, and how would they take it?:

How do they feel about children?:

What is their worst nightmare?:

What person, place, or thing have they most wanted to destroy?:

Do they gossip?

Have they ever felt drained of energy? When, and why?:

If they could travel anywhere, where would they go?:

Have they ever falsely accused someone?:

Do they consider themselves compassionate or harsh to others? Why?:

What do they believe lies in the unexplored areas of their world?:

If they could pick 3 forms to shapeshift into, what would they be?:

Have they ever been falsely blamed for something?:

When were they most greedy? For what?:

Out of all of the lies they’ve told, which ones are their favorites?:

Do they often argue with others?:

What are five things from their bucket list?:

What is something someone has told them that they can’t forget (two good things and one bad)?:

Name something new they taught someone:

Do they trust their gut feeling? What has happened when they did?:

When have they had to place full trust in someone else? Was it easy for them?:

Is there someone they are close to who no one else likes? What’s the story?:

Where do they think they belong, and why?:

What is something that surprised and frightened them?:

Have they ever helped a stranger? What happened?:

Have they ever sacrificed their own gain for someone else? What happened?:

What have they worked really hard for?:

What was their childhood hero?:

What is something they really want but they aren’t allowed to have?:

What are seven things they like in the people around them?:

What are they best at in the kitchen?

What is something a parent has taught them?:

“A dream is a wish your heart makes.” What’s their wish?:

What is their bravest moment?:

Are they a big brother/sister figure to anyone?:

What is their favorite fantasy world (aka Harry Potter, Star Wars), if any?:

What is something from their childhood that they still love?:

What are they most passionate about?:

Inspiration/reason to create the character:

Is their name based on a pun or joke?:

How would they react to meeting you, their creator?:

Date the character was created:

Number of revamps/redesigns they’ve been through:

First appearance:

Is this character okay to draw fan art of?:

Other notes about character:

[coachforcoaches-blog]

Confessions of a Recovering Stray Cat

Feeding a stray cat is tricky business. We might meet a starving animal, take pity on it, and want to feed it, either the scraps we have with us, or a can of tuna and a saucer of milk. Watching the cat eat might make us feel pretty good. The trouble is that it’s very hard to feed a stray cat just once. The cat knows someone who’s willing to give them food, and so it might follow us, or it might show up at our doorsteps on a regular basis. Sometimes, we love the thing enough to take it in, but more often, we become really annoyed or angry with them, and we end up shooing them off so we don’t have to hear a soft “Meow” all the time.

One main problem with being socially awkward, on account of autism or other causes, is that in social circles, we’re in danger of becoming very much like stray cats, only with attention instead of food and milk. Seeing other people hang out together or date makes us feel hungry, and when we meet someone who will feed us, we think to ourselves, “Finally, someone who LIKES us”, and then we feast every time we see them. Sometimes, folks genuinely do like us as human beings, and sometimes, other folks will see some potential in us and take us in, but more often, we start to become burdens in their eyes, and we eventually find ourselves shoo’ed away, and we often don’t understand why.

In a recent episode of “Doctor Who”, Peter Capaldi, as The Doctor, said, “Hardly anything is evil. But most things are hungry. Hunger looks very like evil from the wrong end of the cutlery.” To be fair, many of us look creepy or overbearing, as opposed to evil, but the principle remains. It took me years to understand why I was driving people away, even as some folks who were even more awkward than I were trying to be Stray Cats for me, and as I pushed them away myself.

Today, I have a few safeguards against being too terribly hungry. One of the medications I take suppresses my emotions somewhat. If permitted to talk to or sit with people at a coffee shop, I usually spend only so much time, then leave before I overstay my welcome. Before I hail certain friends on Messenger Chat, I often look at how long it’s been since I last talked to them, and if it hasn’t been a certain number of days, I talk to someone else. In text conversations, I sometimes stop talking and wait for the other person to bring something up. I think these safeguards have helped a great deal.

Still, I have a ways to go. I still am too affectionate on first dates – I always could say I read the signs badly, but I also could say some of the reason why is wishful thinking. Chances are, I still talk to people a little more than they’d like, or I try too hard to meet them in person. I’m lucky enough to have friends who understand my condition, and who say, “I’m sorry, but I’m doing something right now”, either immediately or after a few minutes. This is a wonderful privilege, but I still try to keep in mind that it’s up to me to make an honest effort not to be a Stray Cat.

The hardest part of being a recovering Stray Cat is knowing that getting a little taste of what I want, if I don’t handle it carefully, can be even worse than not getting any of it at all. I love getting a little attention and the live company of people I like, but it presents a huge responsibility, namely to be mindful and respectful, so my talking to people can be a pleasant experience for everyone instead of an instance of me being what a friend calls a psychic vampire.

The hardest part of dealing with a Stray Cat is, that the most effective method for doing so requires doing something people don’t see as their job, an opinion with which I can’t really argue. It often requires telling people bluntly, but politely, to respect their spaces. Some people, such as my friends who say, “Hey, it’s good to see you, but I’m in the middle of something”, do it pretty easily – but then, I know I have a problem, and I’m receptive to blunt and constructive advice.

Not all Stray Cats are that receptive, and so that creates a real problem when people try to moderate their behavior. Often enough, some of us will take a gentle rebuke as a slap in the face, or will miss a hint completely. If people try to distract or to ignore some Stray Cats, they’ll see it as a challenge or obstacle to go over, around, or through, rather than as a polite way to say, “We’re not interested in talking.”

Learning to handle Stray Cat Syndrome is a lot like learning to handle an eating disorder. Unlike handling a drug addiction, which is plenty tough but at least has the upside of our being able to exist without booze or narcotics, handling an eating disorder requires constant moderation – a human being has to eat, but an anorexic or overeater has to learn not to eat too little or too much. Just as a person needs a moderate amount of food to be physically healthy, so a person needs moderate amounts of company and attention to be psychologically healthy, and learning to exist in a social situation requires a Stray Cat to establish self-discipline in situations in which we badly want to feast.

As I noted, it’s up to me to learn to respect people’s boundaries – as I see it, assuming equal responsibilities gives me more of a leg to stand on when I ask for equal respect – and I’m happy to say that I still am improving. The more I recover from being a Stray Cat, the better life is not just for me, but for the people I meet. Meanwhile, I’m thankful for the people who have taken me in and figured out I’m pretty good at some equivalent of catching mice, for those who see me not as a Stray Cat, but as a man, and for those who have taught me that constantly meowing after everyone who gives me the equivalent of a can of tuna is not a great way to make friends.

[manicmustard-blog-blog]

NotquitesurewhereIwasgoingwiththis.

I'm a lazy fucker.  I really am.  I keep meaning to update this damned thing and yet once again I find myself off doing other things, like saving the world from blood-sucking transvestite wombats or enabling tiny midgets (sorry, the vertically challenged) to finally cast off their insecurities by smothering themselves in a mixture of jam and gecko faeces while they parade around in high heels shouting about their human fucking rights.  I also occasionally make toast.  That's a lie.  I don't do bread.  Carbs innit.

The reality of course is that I have a job and the attention span of the aforementioned wombats (mmm, honey) plus I may or may not be a tad crazy so that whole prioritizing thing generally goes out the window.  Much like the idea of that realistic Lego fire station I wanted when I was six.  Thanks mom.  It's not like you ruined my childhood or anything.

And speaking of moms and ruined childhoods.  Inevitably we think of supermarkets.  Now.  I'm a bit of a weird fucker.  I actually like shopping and that does include in supermarkets.  I like patrolling through the aisles with one eye on my six looking for fresh deals to terminate and the gathering of so many types of food in one place always makes me think about exotic places in the world that I've never been and possibly may never go.  It's just a weird thing, I find them usually relaxing.  But as with all things.  The cracks start to appear, the reality of what is and what may be starts to leak into my subconscious and for some God knows why reason I find myself slowly thinking about massacring everybody within a 20ft radius.  Make that 25ft.  That way we'll get the cunts perusing the salad aisle who casually glared at me for taking the last courgette. Fuck them and their vegetable racism.

So.  Taking a deep breath.  I'm going to be honest and cast aside my usual cloak of "Idontgiveafuckery" and be totally honest about what fucks me off about these places when I'm not walking around with the patience of a saint. Think of this as being like Gandhi when he finally slipped on a moist turd and decided "Fuck it, I'm nuking Jerusalem and banning fun" Because I'm pretty sure that's what happened.

Well first off.  I generally like to walk around being a reasonably considerate cunt.  Not overly considerate.  Nobody likes a fucking walkover and since I spent pretty much the first 20 years of my life being a doormat to every fucking potato with a mouth, I have come to the conclusion that it isn't much fun.  But honestly, I still don't feel the need to walk around like an utter dick bouncing into every other poor bastard who gets anywhere near me.  Some people in supermarkets, on the other hand seem to either have their "twat" switch pushed all the way up to 11 or they have absolutely no fucking spatial awareness whatsoever.

*Splat* "...ran over some cunts foot.  Oh well." *Boom.* ".smashed into some old guy, shattering his fucking pelvis for good measure." *Kablowey* "Oh look.  I ran over an orphaned cat with aids and then ate her kittens.  Take that you furry cunt."

I mean, who does that?

Seriously, use those fucking eye things occasionally and look around and don't hit every other peon on your mission to get some spaghetti to feed your equally dense bastard family with.  In fact, just do us all a favour and stay home and fucking starve.  That way I don't have to worry about you rear-ending my arsehole while I bend over staring into the cheese section thinking about whether I fancy Brie or fucking Gouda.

As well.  On the issue of being an inconsiderate wank stain on humanity.  Let's talk about some people who take their children to the supermarket.  I get it...You have kids.  Kids can be a pain in the fucking arse to sometimes control and I honestly have sympathy when I see some poor sod struggling with a months worth of shopping while contending with the demonspawn that vomitted forth from her battered and slightly sad vagina, moaning and crying because they've only got 184 fidget spinners and little bastard Timmy down the road has 185.  I get it, you're trying to control the situation and the fact that you haven't marched them over to the salad section to drown the little fuckers in hummus shows an almost infinite amount of restraint.  You are not the person who makes me angry.

What makes me angry is the fucktarded parents who walk around letting their kids run their trolleys into people, cause chaos and scream and yell with absolutely NO attempt to fucking control them whatsoever.  I get that you think your little angel is special, and their way of expressing themselves is to break anything they touch and fucking run around demanding attention off poor old Doris, who just wants to spend her pension and not think too hard about how she's only got a year at most left on this fucking planet before she finally gets her wish and fucks off back to hell...but come on.  At least try to pretend you give a shit!  Imagine you're on fucking Facebook if that helps.  Or that for every 10 minutes your brats spend not fucking up everyone elses day you'll get an extra gram of shite to shove up your nose and make the pain go away.  For fucks sake just do something other than apathetically watching your offspring literally shit on everybody else around them with a moronic look on your face that suggests to me that perhaps a cull isn’t the worst idea ever.

Also, on the list is anybody who decides to look at stuff while dangling their trolley across the entire aisle as they wank off over the posh bacon.  We get it.  Posh bacon is nice and the correct cultural response is to elevate your genitals to eye height, imagine the smokey goodness and pop one off while trying hard to not think too much about how dirty your frying pan is.  And by God do you like it dirty.  But seriously, I'm okay with you DOING ALL OF THAT as long as you don't block me and every other poor desperate refuge of humanity while you're in fantasy land thinking about grease and love stains.  I mean, for fucks sake.  Maybe I want some bacon?  Maybe I want to get past?  Maybe I want to just pretend this entire fucking building doesn't exist and in fact I'm standing in the digestive tract of a mutant Giraffe with nano boots and an optical sensor where its fucking over-sized robot cock should be?  Whatever thought going through my head is interupted by the fact that I can't get past you and your twatting bastard trolley.  You do get plus points though when you finally snap back into reality, look around you at the half-dozen shoppers that are waiting to get past and say "ooooo sorry dearies" because we're British and fucking polite and shit.  I mean.  Manners cost nothing right?

Finally, on the list.  People that take the last muffin.  Now.  As you know.  I'm on a diet and technically don't eat muffins because apparently they blow up my uterus or whatever the fucking male equivalent is, but yes, just stop it.  Either way.  If I eyeball that shit from a fucking mile away and start walking towards it and at the last minute you swoop in with that ever so fucking smug look on your face and snatch that shit away from me and therefore my fucking destiny of eating my glazed trophy muffin, then you and I have a got a fucking problem and by God I WILL glare at you in an intense display of passive-aggression before picking up a donut instead and pumping my ever so moist and angry tears into it's gooey yet firm dough and eating the bastard with one bite before sobbing in the car park and dreaming of a life where myself and the muffin lived happily ever after.

Just don't do it alright.  Drop the fucking muffin and walk away.  Drop.  The. Fucking.  Muffin.

Unless it's got cherries or something in it.  In which case feel free to take it and choke on that shit.

So yeah.  Supermarkets are fun.  Take your family.  Just not your kids.

[30-days-of-exciting-stuff-blog]

Day 5: Humans Need Not Apply [Exhibition]

I put this project on hold while in Dublin, because as much as I love writing about awesomeness living it to the fullest feels even better and I felt that in that particular case it involved me spending my evenings with my brother rather than with my computer, and pub crawling rather than Tumblring. I could probably write an enthusiastic post about every single thing I saw there, including well-known highlights such as Kilmainham Gaol and St-Patrick Cathedral (see that terribly caricatured tourist who takes pictures of absolutely everything while bouncing with excitement and seems to genuinely believe that Guinness tastes better in Ireland and that rain makes Dublin look even nicer? That’s me). But as there is probably quite a lot of reading material available about them, instead I’ll focus on an exhibition we basically walked into while visiting Trinity College. It’s called Humans Need Not Apply and it’s on display until May 14th at the Trinity College Science Gallery.

To sum it up, it’s about robots. Lots of them. Useless robots. Artistic robots. Pet robots. Masseur robots. Talkative robots. My brother and I fucking love robots (and the multiverse and weird science, but that’s another topic…). It would probably take ages (and break the magic) to describe everything, but here are a few of my favourite AIs:

The Mindfulness Machine is a drawing robot which artistic decisions are based on its mood. The robot’s mood stems from a complex algorithm taking into account the number of people watching, the date, the weather, the ambient noise, and various obscure variables. When the robot feels happy and stimulated, it uses bright colours, whereas a depressed mood will lead it to draw in black and brown shades. Should it be stressed because of an overcrowded gallery watching it, it may even add shaky, stressed dark lines everywhere before adding colours. Unfortunately, my phone was slowly joining my camera in death when we got to that point, but I still managed to take a few pictures of the Mindfulness Machine and its art.

61% stimulated, 99% happy VS 50% stimulated, 20% happy, stressed. The Mindfulness Machine displays more variety in its artistic creations than I do. As far as I’m concerned, when I’m happy I draw monsters. And when I’m sad, I draw monsters.

Another interesting attempt to create an artistic AI is a software playing duets with humans on an electric piano. You play a few notes, the software takes over, and so on. Its algorithm supposedly enables it to recognize the chords and rhythms and improvise harmoniously. We had the opportunity to try it and, as musicians, we were both sceptical about its actual abilities: When you play only a few notes, and with a single hand, the improvisation is usually good (although always conventional… is musical audacity an exclusively human trait?), but the AI gets totally lost if you play something complex. Nevertheless, I really liked the idea, and look forward to hear an improved version of it!

I first wanted to post a video of me trying it, but my phone decided otherwise. Rebellious machines who hate humans are already a thing.

Machines seem to be more successful at painting, as the exhibition also introduces us to a project called The Next Rembrandt, which aimed at creating a painting that Rembrandt may have made, had he lived longer, using artificial intelligence. This resulted in a pretty convincing 3D painting, although it is unclear how much of the work was actually done by human designers giving precise instructions to the AI. Nevertheless, the ability of AIs to generate Rembrandt-looking creations is definitely food for thought when it comes to the meaning of art.

The AI-generated Rembrandt painting. These are expressive eyes you’ve got here, Sir.

A few creations seem to be aimed at depicting absurd aspects of human societies, such as the Humans Need Not to Count robotic arm that counts visitors with a clicker, or the Minimum Wage Machine that yields one cent every few seconds – the equivalent of Ireland’s minimum wage – when you turn the crank (which basically allows you to work for minimum wage if you have solid wrists and forearms, and are willing to pay for everything in the form of coins… don’t forget your wheelbarrow next time you want to pay your rent).

The exhibit also includes a dystopian history of combots (robot-computer hybrids) taking over the world, doing all the tasks and seeing human as annoying, imperfect, useless beings consuming bandwidth with their obsession for cat videos. We’re not here yet, but the number of cute pet robots at the exhibition makes me think that combots could actually take advantage of that permanent quest for cuteness, break the Internet and make the best of the existence of us damn dumb humans.

I mean, look at that cutie. We also met at the exhibition, and he took my heart forever.

If you have the opportunity to go to Dublin before May 14th, I strongly advise that you take a look at the Humans Need Not Apply exhibition. It doesn’t take long, it’s fascinating, it gives you an excuse to take a nice walk in Trinity College (and wish you were a student there), and you’ll have interesting stories to tell later on at the pub – if people hint that you may be too drunk and nicely suggest you to go home when you tell them about robots making art, they probably don’t deserve you. Oh, and it’s free (just like the Natural History Museum, but you’ll get to see robots rather than overly stuffed animals looking weird).

I mean, look at that hedgehog. It looks like a damn helium balloon.

By the way: The exhibition was named after a pretty interesting short documentary film released in 2014, describing a future where human labour will no longer be required and robots will be doing all the jobs. That makes me wonder why the exhibition included antisocial robots whose only job is avoiding each other. If there is a job based on doing U-turns when unexpectedly walking into people, just let me know so I can apply!

And also: If you happen to go to Dublin and like Japanese food, you probably should give Yamamori Noodles a try. A bit expensive, but worth it. I had marinated, crispy fried tofu with a mango and roast sesame sauce and stir fried vegetables (and there are loads of other vegetarian options), and my brother had teppan beef teriyaki. Now I feel like topping everything with mango sauce, and annoy everyone by telling them how good tofu can actually taste.