#still not approaching that beasty though

[redrain0o0]

NO MAN YOU CAN NOT MAKE ME WALK TOWARDS THAT VOID BEAST. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

[twstgarden]

❀ ❝ general 𝗱𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 ❞

━ lilia vanrouge x fem! fae! reader ━ what would it be like to be married to lilia vanrouge?

do not steal or translate without my permission.

being married to a powerful fae like lilia has its ups and downs. he was a remarkable husband and a father of two lovely children. he showers you with so much love and takes care of the kids very well. on the other hand, lilia is a retired general of the royal army and he's in charge of raising the young prince, so it was pretty common that there are others who are foolish enough to try and harm him.

and if they can't get to him, well... you'll be their target.

but alas, those enemies of his are foolish to think they can harm another fae like you.

"my love, stay away from them."

that's what he would always say whenever he sees you approaching a person or a group of people that he deems unworthy of your kindness and attention. you would always excuse his behaviour as being protective and never questioned him.

there are times when he'd try to cook for you and the kids as a way to show his appreciation, but it always ends with you whisking him away from the kitchen and cooking the meal instead, saying that he deserves some rest after a long day of caring for the young prince.

"allow me to make dinner for us both and our lovely children."

a smile was seen on his lips as he said those words, but the idea of him making dinner surprised you as you tried to talk him out of it, allowing you to be the one in charge of the kitchen.

"oh...! um... it's alright, my love. i'll handle it, you need your rest."

when he's not busy, he's spending time with you and the kids. he would be carrying them and playing around with them as you stand by him and smile at the adorable sight. he would often embrace you and your twin children to show how happy he is to have a family with you.

he never misses the opportunity to tell you how much he loves you, whether through gifts or little actions. "you mean the world to me, beastie~" cooed lilia as he pulled you close. giggles escaped your lips as you cast your magic on household items to let them do the chores on their own. you turned to face your husband and wrapped your arms around him, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"i'd give up all my riches just to be with you," you replied back as you stole a kiss on his cheek. he had a goofy grin on his face before chuckling and planting a soft kiss on your lips, "you have my heart for eternity."

when he isn't declaring his love for you, you both would be spending time with the children. lilia loves to teach them how to fight, while you show them how to use their magic.

"mama! mama! look! i can make it rain now!" exclaimed your child. a proud smile found its way onto your lips as you spoke, "great job, darling! you'll get a cookie as a reward."

"what about me, mama? look! papa taught me how to slice this wooden dummy! hyaa!" spoke your other child, a son with silver hair, as he swung his sword and sliced a dummy in half. the same proud smile was still present on your face as you clapped your hands, "marvellous, both of you. you both will get cookies as a reward~"

"yay~!" cheered the children. "what about me, love?" asked lilia. you turned to look at him with bored eyes, though you had a smug grin on your face. "you are not getting any cookies," you spoke. lilia pouted before the mischievous glint in his eyes showed up as he replied, "will a kiss change your mind?"

"wha━ not in front of the children, vanrouge!"

overall, life with lilia is a wonderful experience. you wished this would last forever, though it seemed too good to be true. however, the future is nothing to worry about for now. it's best to enjoy your time while they are still with you. lilia and your children are the best gifts bestowed on you.

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[doberbutts]

Do you or your friends see a difference in household or play behaviors in a dog after mondior or IGP kind of training? My breeder is concerned that once you flip the biting switch you can't really take it back, but obviously there's a whole lot of wonderful protection sport dogs out there who aren't biting random people. I figured I'd ask someone who has had dogs both bitework trained and not bitework trained for comparison. Personally I think it is a beautiful sport and the dogs seem to love it the way I love, say, stage combat or LARP.

Hope you and the beasties are having a good day

Well. No, in the way you're probably thinking. But also yes.

Truthfully I have only taken 2 dogs through any amount of protection sport and both I would still be considered very green in. Fenris is no where near trial ready, after all, partially because I'm deliberately taking it slow and partially because I am very poor and unwilling to throw a large amount of money at seminars or training that I feel may be subpar for what we need- I would rather pay these amounts for training that I can verify is the quality he deserves than chance it on someone fucking up what we've built thus far.

It is my belief that your breeder's concern is valid, and it is something that I warn people about myself especially when dealing with off breeds or with dogs of temperaments not well suited to the work. You are, regardless of what anyone tells you, teaching your dog that biting humans is a perfectly acceptable and even expected behavior depending on the circumstance and behavior pattern. Do understand that this means your dog will see similar contexts and at some point have to make a judgement call. Not every dog makes the right judgement call for the situation.

I'm thinking of a friend whose husband was dying of cancer, and he fell in their house, and as she rushed to help him the dog tried to attack her to protect his owner. This is an extreme case of "worst case scenario"- but ask yourself if that is a scenario you can handle with the levelheadedness she did in order to prevent anyone from being bit. This particular case was a matter of both genetics and training, however the dog in question was not an off breed and in fact was bred with protection in mind.

I'm thinking of a different friend who had border collies show up at club. One day the owner of the border collies was walking through an aisle at a pet store with their dogs, and a man in a puffy winter coat approached to ask them a question. One of the border collies latched onto the man's bicep exactly like how it was trained to, and the other performed a near perfect bark and hold. This person voiced regret of ever having opened that door, and now they have two dogs with recorded bite histories. It is my personal opinion that this is a case of two dogs with temperaments poorly suited to the work more than anything else, however that does not change the undesired outcome.

That being said, I can pet most of the dogs at club without any real concern, though I still keep my hands to myself unless the owners actively tell me to pet and play with their dogs. The few I can't also aren't off breeds, for what it's worth, but in fact are malinois which the sport was more or less designed around. I also don't think the training caused the inability for these specific dogs to socialize with trainers- I think that is a genetic temperament question, and all the training did was give them an outlet for their inherent aggression.

Fenris is a hideously social and friendly doberman. He is best friends with every human at the club and frequently licks the decoys right in the face as he wiggles and jumps on them before they agitate him. He just spent two hours hanging out at the car repair shop yesterday while I was getting my new tires put on. Anyone who stopped to pet him got wiggles and licks and puppy behavior. Anyone who didn't was ignored. While he is a mite too friendly to me, I have not seen any real change to this friendliness or his willingness to accept friendly and neutral strangers despite the decoys telling me that he is really becoming quite a monster in training.

He's also very suspicious, and fairly possessive. I have seen that increase, however at his age it's sort of difficult to determine if that was always going to increase or if the training had anything to do with that. Personally I think it is a mix of both- he was a suspicious and possessive little asshole from the start and now he is learning that there is a time and place for that to really come out of him, so he is more inclined to showing this behavior as he ages through his teenage phase and matures in his training.

For example: we started defense of handler last month, an exercise where the dog heels closely beside the owner and turns its body to watch the decoy waiting for an aggressive move towards the owner. Fenris now watches closely when we are approached by strangers at night while on walks, not acting but simply waiting to see what they might do. This behavior may have come out of him anyway, because even when he was a young puppy he would occasionally give the stink eye to anyone who rushed us (usually panhandlers asking for money in parking lots, but also the occasional person looking for trouble and an easy mark). He barked at a homeless guy who lunged at us on the sidewalk* when we walked past 6 months ago- well before defense of handler. He may have always been inclined to be wary of fast, jerky movements towards us.

That is what a doberman is for. They were never meant to accept suspicious or potentially aggressive strangers, and these sorts of situations are exactly what many dogs would consider suspicious and aggressive behavior. Homeless Guy I think was just high or having some mental episode and not actively dangerous to passersby, but lunging at someone from the shadows is a really stupid way to get bit (if they have a dog) or punched/shot/stabbed (if they don't but think they need to defend themselves). The panhandlers that literally run up to us from across the parking lot- same thing, if someone spots you at a distance and starts running towards you with intent, many times this is going to get read as aggressive behavior. Again, not actually harmful, they're just begging for money. However, how is my dog supposed to know that when the behavior says "I am going to hurt you" to a dog?

For example: we started object guard, where he stands over an object and stops the decoy from snatching it out from under him by biting. Coincidentally, he's also started low rumbling at the other dogs when they're near stuff he likes, and he lays directly on top of these objects and hides them under his legs/body. While I do think the training definitely intensified this behavior, he's always been a bit punky with his stuff and not been keen on sharing. I manage it so we don't have a dog fight, and I have a bunch of dogs that are allergic to conflict anyway so it's a pretty easy situation to work with. All four of my dobermans including the one that had never been in any bitework scenario ever have been somewhat guardy when it comes to high value resources (in fact the only one that never did any bitework also is the only one that started a dog fight over a guarded object (ME, I was the guarded object)), so it is also very possible that this would have developed in him regardless of training.

Funny enough, however, I will also say that Fenris specifically has become exponentially more velcro and cuddly immediately after every protection session. It does something magnificent to the bond between us, and his affection is through the roof when we get back to our bedroom after a long day on the club field.

Creed, my other dog who I took through this type of training, I felt was actually more confident afterwards. He had a lot of reactivity as a teenager and getting him to a club more often seemed to have a significant amount of positive impact on this behavior. I have seen other dogs experience the same. Probably something similar to how my nephew had a lot of PTSD and anxiety immediately after a horrific domestic abuse situation he and his mom had to flee from, and the thing that helped him resolve that was getting him started in martial arts classes. If nothing else, you learn to trust that you can handle it if a situation that makes you feel powerless comes for you a second time, I suppose. I'd be interested to know if that's connected to some behaviors I see from dudes who are obsessed with weapons and fighting, but that's another post in and of itself.

However I was fairly reluctant to move forward with this training with Phoebe, my soft scared girlie, because she had a panic response of "pick a direction and run very fast don't look back" and I was nervous that taking her to protection training would bleed into her panic attacks and instead of running she would hit the end of the leash, realize the flight was not an option, and start biting. And I was not particularly interested in chancing that, because regardless of how scared she was she would choose flight and freeze over fight every time and this made he very safe to be around. My first doberman was a very anxious rescue who was taught that biting is an option when running isn't working, and I ended up having to behaviorally euthanize him because his previous home fucked him up so bad. I want to be clear that this was a result of bad training and worse temperament, but knowing Phoebe's temperament I was unsure if I wanted to chance it with her.

I never did take her to club before her weird GI/liver thing that ultimately killed her, but she ended up loving tug and her confidence did soar once she learned the game. And it did bleed into other areas as well- she was much happier and more confident when out in public even though we only played tug in my living room. If her health hadn't crashed like that, I would have been taking her to mondio with Fenris the first week I had him to see if she liked it and if there was anything in here to play with.

So. A long winded answer to say that yes I have seen the training change behaviors off the field, but probably not in the way you're expecting to hear.

[monstersdownthepath]

Various dream beasties

So about 4 or so days ago, I found out by complete accident checking the notes for my main blog (which I try my best to keep separate from this one; do not ask for it. if you find it you find it) that looking at an old post of yours will show you similar posts you made from around the same time. Because of that, I re-discovered the old tag I used to chronicle the strange dreams I had, especially when I dreamed up particularly odd beasts. Some I’ve already turned into existing concepts, but some I had completely forgotten about!

Below the cut is a few I found that I still like, even after all these years and separated by whatever context I was thinking of at the time. Most of them I don’t really have plans or even a solid concept for, but if enough interest is shown in them, I may dust them off and turn them into something.

THE ORO

One of the strangest. According to the post, the dream was centered on an elaborate children’s school play in which the POV character was tasked with guarding some form of machine from various ‘attackers.’ Eventually, the task was failed as the ‘saboteurs’ broke the machine, causing an announcer to read off the names of everyone who was now ‘forfeit’ because the Oro would now come to ‘collect its due.’

An ominous rhyme was spoken that I wrote down: “The Oro is hunger, the Oro is hate, the Oro’s the end to the souls that it ate” as little fabric ‘souls’ were taken from various plants in the audience, causing them to dramatically fall over as the ‘souls’ were sucked into a gigantic, elaborate puppet of a grub-like creature with four tiny, tentacular arms and a sheet with alien runes draped over its ‘face.’

Eventually, though, the ‘camera’ zoomed out and revealed the entire school has been sealed from outside contact by heavy iron doors. The words “ORO DRILL IN PROGRESS! DO NOT ENTER!” are over every door and window. In the distance, the real Oro approaches at a glacial pace. Its body is slug-like, made up of sagging pallid flesh that’s draped with scraps of white or pale cloth. Despite its appearance, it’s bone dry. It has four rubbery limbs on its front that waver like insect antennae, and its body terminates in a ‘head’ that’s a round, white ovoid pushed into its front, like a chicken egg into clay. It has no face, but it has the impression of one on the paper and cloth scraps draped across its head, which are all scrawled with the same alien runes as its play version.

The dream ended before the Oro reached the building, but people began screaming from within as it drew closer, as though they could sense it nearby without being able to see it. Waking-me added on an extra bit of whimsy; the puppet version had a balloon that drifted over it that the play-souls ended up in, so the real Oro had a balloon of unnaturally dry, latex-like mucus that it blew from an orifice on its back, in which it would contain the souls it drained from its victims via doing... something. It’s never said how or why the Oro does what it does, or even if it really eats the souls or merely stores them for some dark purpose.

----

IT’S GOING TO HAPPEN

A shorter post, but no less strange. The stars of the dream were zombies choked with plantlife; vines and leaves sprouted from under their skin and pulled them along, colorful flowers growing without rhyme or reason across their body, which acted as their sensory organs. Nothing in the dream told of how the infection started, was spread, or how far into the infestation the world was. What was the focus was the sounds the plant-zombies were making: “It’s going to happen.”

No groaning, no moaning, no sentence fragments. A perfectly audible, understandable sentence repeated ad infinium by every undead within earshot of a living person: “It’s going to happen.”

The ‘heroes’ of the dream dismembered dozens of them before locking their remains in a warehouse before becoming distracted by a different plotline, but eventually the dream came back to that very same warehouse, now overgrown with unnaturally verdant plantlife. The foundation was creaking and groaning, and eventually human limbs poked through the tangles to force open windows and the doors of the warehouse. Just before the dream ended, though, the POV apparently zoomed in on one of the windows, where a pair of glowing green eyes could be seen in the darkness between the vines, and the line was repeated just before the dream switched entirely: “It’s going to happen.”

----

“THE MENTOR”

TW for self harm, drug overdoses, general themes of drug use, and eye horror.

This one was one of the longest posts in the tag, and followed the exploits of a grizzled noir detective--”the most stereotypical one you could envision,” apparently--investigating a bizarre series of murders in which the victims all appeared to be overdosed on a drug that defies being analyzed. They know it’s a string of murders and not just a rash of unfortunate circumstances, because each victim’s eyes are missing, removed with the precision of a surgeon.

Without going too much into needless detail (the post is extremely long; i’m surprised i never did anything with it), there are some breaks in the case: there’s a woman who claims to be on the mystery drug, and even managed to steal a sample of it from ‘the Mentor’ before she escaped it. She can’t elaborate on who or what the Mentor is, only that she refuses to be alone so it cannot find her. Thanks to her unfortunate help, it’s revealed that the drug supercharges the victim’s senses; she can see, hear, feel, taste, etc “everything” according to her, to the point it’s debilitating, painful, and completely overwhelming. Had she not gotten to the detective when she did, there was a chance her brain would have simply burned out from the overstimulation. Even though they have a sample of the substance, the detective’s assistants have a hard time analyzing it for reasons that aren’t explained.

The unfortunate victim is placed into sensory deprivation until the drug works its way out of her system, but not before she states where she got the supply. The entire time, by the way, the detective has apparently been seeing flashes of glowing red eyes on various rooftops, down alleys, and around corners, so he tells everyone in his lab to be on guard as he heads out to find the dealer. The dealer is a hulk of a man run through by countless sharp implements, eager to tell the detective how the drug lets him “really feel,” and how eager he is to “experience” the detective’s violence. A massive struggle ensues where the hulking man reveals he’s practically superhuman, shrugging off almost everything done to him even when the wound logically should have killed him (a knife in the heart, mainly). Soon, though, it’s shown that for all his toughness, he can’t resist the loss of blood and the damage from his own broken bones; he lasts far longer than he should, to a supernatural degree, but eventually he’s beaten.

Before he dies, he reveals he’s not the Mentor, but “you shouldn’t bother looking for the Mentor, it’s already looking for you.” God, two paragraphs ago I said ‘without going into needless detail’ didn’t I? I’m going to skip some more stuff now; if you want the full story, I’ll straight up copypaste it. The Mentor is eventually revealed to be a humanoid entity in a trenchcoat and wearing some sort of latex or rubber clothing over most of its body, with a gas-mask over its face that has glowing red eyes. It’s only when the detective stabs the Mentor that he finds out it’s not at all human; it’s latex, glass, plastic, and metal all the way down, its body surging with a purified and extremely potent version of the drug it’s been dealing. Inside glass canisters in its chest, dozens upon dozens of eyes, all taken from its victims.

The Mentor’s body stretches and deforms with the sounds of creaking metal and grinding glass as it fights the detective, its gas-mask-like face gradually deforming into the head of a plastic mosquito, mouth dripping with its drug. It scores a blow on the detective, and as his senses sharpen from the powerful dose, he looks at it and says “oh. is that what you really look like?” which, for some reason, causes the abomination to recoil. He continues, madness in his eyes: “You helped them see the real world but hated what they saw in you. You’re afraid they’ll know what you are.”

Whatever this means, the Mentor shrieks mechanically in some sort of rage, which awakens every OD victim as a zombified husk. This plotline is apparently abandoned by the dream, as nothing comes of it, but it’s important to note anyway. The Mentor and the detective have one final, climactic battle, but he’s no match for the inhuman creature and is eventually overcome; one of his eyes is stolen, the other destroyed by its proboscis. However, backup arrives and chases it off before it can kill them, and though it escapes, the dream ends on a somewhat positive note because the pure sample of the drug from the detective’s wounds lets the police lab synthesize an antidote for it, saving the detective’s life and potentially the lives of any of its future victims.

----

THE THREE DEVILS

Simpler, because this was a daydream that never ended up getting used. There were three entities, all with concealing robes over their bodies that shrouded everything about them. Even their hoods fell over their heads so their faces, if they had them, couldn’t be seen.

All three of them are powerful figures that grant people’s wishes. They each can grant just about any wish, but each of them has a different specialty, a type of wish they are drawn to more than any other. While at first they seem to act altruistically, anyone that calls on them more than once begins to see the mounting price of their work–the more wishes they grant, the more chaotic and unstable the world gets, and the one type of wish they cannot grant are wishes to travel through or alter time to rectify one’s mistakes. The other type of wish they will not grant is a wish that directly undoes a different wish, which would eventually cause a horrid breakdown of the very laws of physics, were it not for the repeated “weakness” they possessed in that they can be tricked into indirectly undoing wishes.

I called them “devils” but in Pathfinder terms, they work more like daemons. They want reality to collapse and are willing to unhinge it as much as they can by gifting mortals wishes and then twisting them into unraveling the world.

The Sodden Devil is dressed in moldering grey-green, it’s robes thoroughly soaked and so heavy that it is forced to hunch, and carries a thick driftwood cane to lean on. It specializes in granting wishes that would directly benefit others, especially ones that result in one or more lives being saved, either immediately or over the long-term. Of the three, the Sodden Devil possesses the most foresight, which borderlines flat-out omniscience. It can always tell when one of its wishes will have a “big payoff,” even thousands of years in the future.

The Ashen Devil is dressed in a blackened, ash-stained robe, smoke constantly wafting from its “feet” and trailing from its “hands” as it moves its arms, the hems of its robe burning almost constantly but never shrinking down. The Ashen Devil specializes in wishes that would quickly cause vast amounts of change on scales both great and small. It snorts at the ideas of balance and order, often dressing up its opinion as a dislike of “stagnation” and the decay that complacency and unchanging laws eventually cause. Of the three, the Ashen Devil is the least subtle but perhaps the most powerful, it’s wishes manifesting explosively (in one fashion or another), not only responsible for numerous natural disasters, but some say that it is also responsible for almost every social upheaval in history, either directly or indirectly. Of the three, the Ashen Devil could use the biggest rework, but I’m not sure what I could rework it to.

The Devil in Red is the tallest of the three, towering over its brethren and most mortals. It dresses in fine red robes and decorates itself with lavish jewelry, and it manipulates items and beings with rope-like mists of perfume that waft from it rather than any physical limb. It specializes in wishes that are entirely selfish and self-serving, benefiting the wisher and very few–if any–others. As such, the Devil in Red is the “most popular” of the three, seeing the most summons by the greedy and the desperate; the other two usually must seek out patrons to offer their power, but the Devil in Red is called directly more often than not. It revels in this attention and in the slow, mounting discord that it’s work causes as people wish for things that put greater and greater strain on reality.

I could potentially make a Daemon Harbinger out of these three; harbingers of wishes gone wrong and deals having unforeseen consequences. Sacred animal? Monkeys. ... actually, y’know, I could rework them a little further for more irony...

----

THE TALENT SCOUT

This is the one that inspired me to make this post, despite the difficulty one would experience trying to fit it into the Pathfinder setting. I find the creature’s design and modus operandi too fascinating not to share, and I’m surprised I never did anything with the concept! It fits well into a more modern setting; possibly Starfinder, a modern-day PF setting, or the setting of a different TTRPG such as Monster of the Week, or one of the many World of Darkness modules.

The Talent Scout is a hunched figure that dresses in a shabby tan trench coat (the second trenchcoat monster from my dreams, and certainly not the last) and a wide-brimmed hat (the Mentor also had one, natch) that cast a shadow over its face. Where that face should be was a giant camera lens, but in the dream the rest of its head was never seen, so I assume it’s only the camera lens. The rest of its body, however, was flesh and blood. In fact, it had a cluster of eyes of varying sizes embedded in each of its palms that it used to peer around corners or obstacles on the lookout for its next “star.” Anyone it snapshotted with its camera eye became cursed.

Each night, a cursed victim would dream they were on a movie set, being forced to act in a film. The conditions would steadily worsen over time, with the victim eventually gaining no rest as they slept due to the poor quality of care they got from the unseen director, awakening ragged, exhausted, and eventually even bearing injuries they sustained while ‘on set.’ Eventually, after about a year, the victim would vanish completely in their sleep. Across the world, new VHSs or DVDs would appear in stores, flea markets, yard sales, packed in Redboxes, and the like.

The movies on the VHS/DVD were generally low-quality, mediocre horror films starring the victim (or victims on some occasions), though the special effects detailing the victim’s injuries were frighteningly realistic– because they were real. The movies usually ended with the victim’s horrid demise at the hands of a monster, a criminal, or a natural disaster, but even in the cases where they didn’t die, they were left in a situation in which their survival was not likely. In any case, the victims are never seen again once they vanish, and there was seemingly no way to rescue them from their fate, as destroying the medium they were held on just caused a new one to appear elsewhere the next time the Talent Scout was in the area.

[spookypete-94]

Beastie. Chapter 1. GhostXFem!reader

word count 2,127

This has been in my head for a while now! First Fandom I have wrote in a long time.

Name will be marked as Y/N. This will be an OC story, however, that follows the storyline of MWII, eventually turning off to my own storyline until MWIII is revealed. It will also flip point of views periodically between Character and Ghost.

Age-29

Looks- however you would like her to, the only thing she is short and small compared to the OG's of 141. I have her marked at 5'3, her size will be brought up within the story line at some point. Multiple times more than likely.

Character works for Laswell directly. How Shepherd has Grave's and his shadows contracted out, that is essentially how this character is for Laswell. She is skilled in weaponry and hand to hand combat. She joined the MARINES young, right out of highschool, where she quickly worked her way up the ranks, getting the attention of Laswell. Laswell offered her a position within the CIA that came with higher qualifications and capabilities than serving in the MARINES. More of her story will be revealed as the story goes on.

Callsign- Beastie. Character starts off not having a callsign directly but quickly changes as she proves her skills and gaining respect early.

***warning for Canon COD violence and swearing***

I do not own COD or its characters. I just enjoy it 😁

************

Y/N received a phone call from Laswell. She was briefed that she was being sent to the US/Mexico border in an attempt to search for a terrorist named Hasan.

It was early when Laswell called to dispatch her out, but it was late now, nearly dark. The twilight from the sunset was out her window of the small plane she was on. In all reality, she is Laswell's peace offering to Colonel Alejandro. An apology for something so urgent and desperate being sent his way. She was already dressed in her gear since she didn't know what to expect fully when she arrived.

The plane finally landed, leaving her to descend off it quickly. She noticed a tall, slender hispanic male approaching her, so she started walking to him.

"Colonel Alejandro?" She asked, shaking his hand.

"Alejandro is fine. Laswell called you her, Beastie?"

This made a small smile tug at her lips, "She does, not what I go by, though. But you can call me Y/N."

"Y/N it is. Let's head out," his steps are large and leading.

She matched his stride used to have to take large fast steps to keep up.

Rudy was introduced to her as he drove a truck pulling a boat, heading towards the river that was the border. There, she learned it was only the 3 of them looking for Hassan, the FBI still about an hour out. This made her nerves run high due to the fact that this was so important to Laswell.

Y/N helped get out to unload the boat, leading Rudy back with her hands where she quickly unhooked it and pushed it in, waiting for them to get in with her. Rudy yet again took over, driving and steering the boat, leaving her to run the search light while Alejandro called Laswell with an update simultaneously, seeing if she had another as well.

Y/N could see glimmers across the water, making her lift the search light towards it. It was the eyes of a group of migrants she was catching.

"A distraction," she said to Rudy while Alejandro and Laswell discussed what was happening. She took a step closer to them, a hand on her pistol that was holstered on her thigh uneasiness, setting in deeper.

"Laswell thinks the migrants were a diversion, Hassan's got to be here."

Rudy turned, nodding to Y/N, "You called it."

Finally, the searchlight caught up to another boat sitting on the bank.

"It's their boat. Stop here." Alejandro said as they docked their own boat.

She pulled out her gun, switching on the light at the end of it. "Stay safe," she told them in Spanish, making both of them look at her stunned but nodded nonetheless.

Rudy and Alejandro bantered with each other about what was happening. Al Qatala is working with the cartel... how strange and new this seemed to be when finally Hassan's escorts could be heard, making them all duck off into the timber near the wall. She lined one up in her scope of her rifle, quickly picking him off Rudy working next to her.

"Watcher, they've crossed the border!" Alejandro radioed to Laswell.

Y/N finally used her's for the first time tonight, "Engaging, going to pursue!"

"Beastie, that's not advised! There's no assets in the area."

"Keep pushing the FBI and local PD." Alejandro said to Laswell. They all climbed the fence, pushing to catch Hasan's trail.

It was this game for a while, a game of cat and mouse. They were all so close, but not close enough. The chase led through residential areas and houses. Civilians are curious and, in the way, some terrified. Y/N stayed calm and composed, proving to Alejandro and Rudy that she was a good send from Laswell. Her aim was brave and quick, assisting them push through people. Her voice was loud and compelling, yelling orders to civilians even despite her small stature.

The next roadblock was the local PD stopping them from pushing further. Alejandro spoke with them, but they were all thrown back from some sort of explosion, leaving Y/N disoriented. What brought her back was the sound of rapid gun fire. She leaned against one of the burning squad cars, standing up when one of the gunmen passed her, taking her knife and stabbing his throat. Her pistol came up and shot him behind the head.

He dropped, and she looked over at Rudy, who took out the other gunman. Alejandro is standing up from the blast.

She huffed, reaching around the guy she had dropped and took his gun.

"Mother fuckers," she said in-between pants ready to keep going.

"More coming," Alejandro said, sliding up against the car. She did the same, using the car for coverage and support with a gun she took off the man that was trying to kill them.

Quickly, they dropped all that approached them, starting to push once more, heading for the house the gunmen came from.

"Rudy, take inside from the back, Beastie make entry from the front. Watch your cross fire. I'll lockdown the exterior." Y/N smiled at Alejandro using her nickname given from Laswell, finding small humor in it as she quietly moved to the front of the house. She could hear Rudy already making contact with subjects in the house, making her move faster.

She had to go in the front door, sweeping and clearing the house as she could smell smoke.

Alejandro was yelling for Rudy, trying to force a door open. She assisted, worried about his welfare as well.

There he lay on the floor, face bloody from where it looked like someone hit him. But he was breathing and cognitive.

She helped Alejandro lift him, carrying him outside of the burning house.

As they made it outside, they turned to look at the burning house as it quickly went up in flames. Thankfully, the FBI and local PD, along with medical personnel, were on scene. Y/N called Laswell briefing her with what happened.

"He got away from us. Rudy said something about him crossing over the Atlantic."

"Anyone hurt? Are you ok?" Laswell asked.

That was the one thing Y/N always appreciated about Laswell. She always cared for the people who worked for her.

"Rudy was assaulted," Y/N said, looking over at him as someone tended to his bleeding head, "but I think we're gonna be alright. I'm sorry, Laswell..." she said, feeling bad. This mission went so awry.

"Don't be... I think I'm going to have to call in more help, though," she said, sighing.

"I'm here, wherever you need me to go."

"Stay with the Colonel and his men at his base. I will send people to you."

Y/N could tell Laswell was coming up with a plan already.

"Direct."

"Stay safe, Beastie," she said with concern.

"Yes, Ma'am," Y/N said, smiling, disconnecting the phone call. She approached Alejandro and Rudy.

"Supposed to stay with you and your team for now until Laswell calls with further orders. Believe she is calling in reinforcements and trying to find where Hassan is headed as well."

"We got plenty of room," Alejandro said to her, "the least we can do since you helped us."

"Thank you," Rudy said, craning his neck to look at her, wrapping and gauze around his forehead.

"Don't, I know you both would do the same." Y/N said, trying to be humble.

"Beastie's a good name. Never seen a woman your size do the things you just did." Alejandro said, clapping her shoulder.

This made her chuckle from hearing this comment often.

********

A couple of days have passed. Contact was brief with Laswell, but you were with Alejandro and Rudy in Las Almas at their base.

Laswell had spoken with General Shepherd. His plans consisted of sending in the members of an elite group called the 141 and The Shadow Company to assist with looking for Hassan.

Y/N rode with Alejandro and Rudy to go pick up 2 memembers from the 141 as they were being flown in. She stood next to the truck, arms crossed on the driver's side window of the truck talking to Rudy.

"So you know Spanish?" Trying to make small talk.

"I know enough, there's some I don't know."

"How do you know what you do?"

"My step dad is Hispanic. He taught me some."

"Oh," he said eyebrows lifted interested. "He from Mexico?"

"Texas. Him and my mom own a ranch there." Y/N broke contact when she the aircraft landing. Turning approaching towards Alejandro, she didn't want to leave him having to greet them on his own. She flipped her sunglasses down to keep the dirt out of her eyes. The lenses dark leaving anyone who looked unable to see her eyes.

The door opened on the aircraft as she stood next to Alejandro, 2 very large men exiting it. One with a mowhawk, the other a large man in a skull mask.

Jesus.. she thought to herself, seeing them walk down the ramp.

She listened to the men exchange their greetings.

"Alejandro."

"Sergeant Mactavish."

"Call me soap."

Alejandro placed his hands behind his back and better faced the man in the skull mask.

"Lieutenant... Laswell says you go by Ghost."

"Actually I think he prefers to go by-"

And the larger man that apparently went by Ghost interrupted the man that went by Soap

"THAT'LL DO." His British accent made it more comical.

Causing Y/N to snort, stifling a laughter as her eyebrows shot up. This then turned the attention to her.

"Who might you be?" The Mohawk man smiling at you, seeming to appreciate your sense of humor.

"Y/N." She said, sticking her hand out to him to shake.

"Beastie," Alejandro said in a manner like he was correcting you.

"Beastie?" Soap asked facing Alejandro shaking your hand.

"She's one of Laswell's. Assisted Rudy and I the other night."

"You're a solider?" Soap asked.

"Was a Marine. More of a contractor now." She answered honestly.

She stuck her hand out to Ghost who briefly looked at it before he shook it.

"Mean, it's not bring your midget to work day?" He asked snarkily. She couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny or if he was trying to get under her skin.

She immediately let go of his hand and stepped back, eyebrows raised again.

"I wouldn't give her too much hell," Alejandro said, trying to soothe the awkwardness. "She can handle her own out there."

She took that as a sign that it was time to go, heading back towards the vehicles.

Alejandro opened the passenger door of the vehicle they were getting in, watching her head to the empty vehicle behind them. "Looks like you got a full load from Mohawk and the dude that plays the Mountain from Game of Thrones in yours. I'll follow you, besides. I need to call Laswell with an update anyway."

This caused Soap to go slack jaw as she made her own joke about Ghost, which followed with a grin. Alejandro stood there, shaking his head. But her only interest was the coffee colored eyes that followed her and stared into the dark lenses of her sunglasses. Her shit eating grin plastered on her face as she looked at him out the windshield.

He wants to play, she'll play.

next.

[dyrewrites]

Weald and Wen - in the nest

“Bitey tree is—I is—s'alls scuffed!” The little light shouted, her voice scattered, unfocused. “There is nothing more to—I am presently—you cannot possibly,” Delgrij shouted back, near as muddled as reality dripped into Faerai, waking her from a nightmare far too real.

Her limbs howled, chilling with the remembered tendrils of that foul black as she made to rise and, shivering, she resigned herself to the hard surface that cradled her.

But it was only a chill, only a memory, as sense insisted she was unbroken.

Why are they arguing? She wondered as the voices rose and crackled beyond her memories. Her own voice bubbled but refused to flow, and so she kept quiet, allowing her mind to catch up to her skin. Whole, alive, she soothed, ears open and eyes toward the familiar voices as their shapes wavered too dark in her hazy vision. We are breathing, we are whole, we are alive.

The tall, slender form of Delgrij paced somewhere beside where Faerai lay, strides off. He threw his arms up and out, in a blur of white and purple, at a smudge of pink she knew as the little light, yet he did not speak.

But Mitra’s fuchsia glow grew brighter, worrying with its flickering as she raged to darker shades, “Me? Yous the dull crag whats rolls us pulses ways fors own Din’d nest!”

“My colony hosts the purest ichor pool, best suited to heal me fully,” Delgrij explained, waving a hand to indicate all of himself and then all of Faerai, “Would you have preferred her to wake with my teeth at her throat?”

Mitra glared in angry violets, “Yous be ash afore yous reach."

"Threats now, is it, I allow you into my nest and you spit threats?” Delgrij’s branched antlers caught a peculiar red light as he stepped closer, leaning to match the little light’s anger and Faerai swooned as that red pooled in her vision, missing what he said next.

But not the little light’s reaction as she forced Delgrij back with a poke of her hand and crackled the air with her heat, "Nots. A. Myr!”

“Finer carved perhaps,” Delgrij said as he rubbed his face, “and you certainly glow brighter, but behind that sparkling sheen you are all creaking, scheming Myr.”

“Ans I shine Fluffy is jus' nuru?” The little light’s pinker glow, brighter in Faerai’s clearing vision, lit more of the space she occupied and revealed a white wall behind her.

“Infae is a beloved friend,” Delgrij said as he moved to that wall and as he pet it the wall shook. A high trill sounded after but Faerai could not find the source and her swimming eyes returned to Delgrij as he spoke again, “that is why I ran all that way back to retrieve him. Something I would never have done for you.”

The little light moved then, she zipped around to snip at Delgrij from his other side, flaring still so hot, so purple, “I's ones whats fetch yous ichor. Ifs nots for me theres would shine no yous.”

"Yes, that is true,” Delgrij said plainly enough, but the way his voice cooed from his lips shivered through Faerai, “I do owe you for that and should the sprout here fail to wake I will be certain to return your kindness.”

Mitra wafted away from that voice, flickering to dimmer purples as she creaked, “yous words is twisty, evens for trees.”

Delgrij laughed then, short and hard, “and yours are absolute agony.”

Faerai coughed, though she had not meant to, and then she gagged and choked but her words could not claw their way out.

“Little beastie!” Mitra cracked.

That unfamiliar trill filled the air again, low and strange and Faerai blinked and blinked but could not see more than dim red light and the blur of figures approaching. 

“Where we go?” she asked, flinching, her own voice too loud in her ears. The little light twirled into focus, a paw from Faerai’s face, and she grimaced at the brightness of her. Then Mitra flicked away with an angry flash and creak and Delgrij’s face swelled in her place, concern dripping down his pale bark in red rivulets. 

“Are you well, sprout?” He asked, voice trembling.

“We...think so?” Faerai tried, wincing again, more from the ache of her limbs than the sound of her voice. But it had dulled enough to rise, and so she sat up in her strange bed, only to discover a sticky residue on her paws and on the hard surface she laid on. It dripped down the fur of her bare chest, staining the leathers of her pants in varying shades of red. “Whose blood…”

Mitra shoved Delgrij’s face out of the way as she tittered, “Bitey tree ‘fraids little beastie gots shattered ans leaks ichors all overs.”

“Shattered?” Faerai asked, waving Mitra's brightness away and rubbing at her fur, but that only spread the ichor further and urged it deeper.

“Died,” Delgrij answered, “I—I was afraid you had died.”

As she studied the red stains on her fur, Faerai shivered with the chill of biting hands, of a shadowy wall of deepest black grasping and clawing. Its icy blades stung and dug and the whites of its many teeth lingered too rough in her flesh. Then the images returned; the Weald, the Heart...the whole of Mar broken, its life dripping. She hid from those memories, coiling into her braided tails to hug their warmth closer to her snout and whimpered, “We did.” 

[zethransolaris]

Corruption

Below is the scene from my d&d campaign where the party encountered this beastie :)

At the bottom of an abandoned ore mine you find a single wooden door waiting for you at the end of a long hallway. An earlier close call with a magical glyph keeps your gaze sharp, and sure enough, as you approach the door you catch the faint glimmer of magic wrapped around the handle. To avoid the glyph, you smash a hole through the wood beside it, and peering inside you’re met with cloying, inky darkness. One of your party is gifted with magic though, and conjures several spheres of light that dance around their hand for a moment before drifting through the open hole. Immediately you notice that the darkness clings to the spheres, suffocating their reach to a fraction of what you’re all familiar with. They drift further, further, their light illuminating nothing but barren stone floors, until they roll over a twisted mass of a creature. It sits alone with its back to you, long oily tendrils curling up from its body and obscuring it’s form, and the creature stands as still as the breath held tight within your lungs. The lights halt in their progression, and for a moment, you wonder if you can escape without detection. But one tendril twitches. And then another, near its neck. Until the whole mass of tendrils begin to jerk to life, and the head of the creature snaps back to glare with wide, hollow eyes. The flesh around its mouth tears and rips as though the jowls had been fused shut, and from them howls a shrieking sound like rending metal. The corrupted dragon rounds on you, staggering from its statued state to now rush toward the door. Roll for initiative. —— The first mini-boss I threw at my party for our homebrew d&d campaign!! They actually took it out like,, unfortunately quick (unfortunate for me at least cause I wanted to show off more of the fun quirks I gave it :3), but it certainly raised a lot of questions that will be relevant for a very long time >:3c

[morocosmos]

FFxivWrite2023 Day 2 - Bark

Masterlist Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Pairings: Original Female Character(s), eventual OCxOC (F/F), Sanson Smyth, Guydelot Thildonnet, Sanson/Guydelot Rating: Teen & Up (may change) Additional Notes: Deipo is the younger sister of my WoL, Moro'a, and his only surviving family. You can read about how they were unhappily reunited here.

Only for it to swing wide open, causing Deipo to skitter backwards in alarm as in stepped none other than Guydelot, who paused mid-step to look at her in mild surprise. A smirk smoothed over his expression just as quickly. “I’d honestly expected Sanson to catch you first,” he said, grinning.

Deipo tensed as Guydelot approached, ready for a struggle, but the Elezen walked right past her, sinking into the chair that had been his destination all along. “I know what you’re thinking of, and I have to say there isn’t much point, what with the malms of forest to get lost in and the unpleasant beasties roaming about,” he warned her cheerily, leaning back on the chair so that it balanced on its back legs. His hands were behind his head and he showed no signs of distress over the fact that he’d caught her trying to escape.

Deipo contemplated toppling the chair over, and him with it. “Then? You send lances and bows after a prisoner of war?” she growled, taking a step towards Guydelot.

He shook his head. “No need,” he disagreed. “You could barely stand a day ago; I don’t see you getting far.”

She felt weaker than she would’ve liked, it was true, and she doubted she could evade even a handful of soldiers. But subduing just one would buy her time, and Deipo was still confident she could best him. Where he hardly seemed to care about his task, she wanted freedom.

Guydelot became more serious, and Deipo knew he was watching her carefully now. “Go on, then. I’m not stopping you.” He still made no move to apprehend her. Deipo hesitated, waiting for a trick. When none came, she turned and bolted, unwilling to find out if the man did have something up his sleeve.

Deipo ran, pushing past shocked villagers as she tore down the path. A healer shouted for her, and dogs barked as a stranger that neared their homes. All of which Deipo duly ignored. There was only one way in and out of the village, but as she followed the route she’d memorised, a flaring pain interrupted her thoughts.

She was slowing. Becoming tired, so, so quickly, her limbs like dead machinery. Why…? She’d barely made it past the last house. If she could at least make it past the gates, find somewhere to hide until they gave up searching for her…the world turned as she tripped on her own feet — of all the damn things — she tumbled into the dirt, jarring her body.

Everything spun, everything hurt. So much for confidence. She hadn’t the power to win her own freedom. 

Deipo felt rather than heard the villagers coming closer, wolves surrounding a felled deer. End it quickly, she found herself wishing, silently. She wasn’t in the Black Shroud, but in Garlemald, ten years young and lying much the same way on the ground. Soon to be punished for attempting desertion, made an example in front of the other conscripts. It’d been a miracle that she wasn’t shot.

Someone was leaning over her. “Told you,” a voice said, though there was no mockery. “Though I would’ve preferred not to. Sanson’s not going to like this…” Deipo felt herself being moved, carefully, so that she now lay on her side. It didn’t stop her head from spinning, but she could hear a little better.

Guydelot held a hand to his ear, and he was still speaking, albeit to someone else. Relaying the news to his captain, no doubt. “She’s fine, still conscious. Just took a bit of a fall.” A muffled voice replied in urgent tones. “Aye, aye.” His hand dropped to his side, and he turned to examine her.

“I’m taking you back,” he told Deipo, though he looked none too happy about the task. With a grunt, he lifted her up, carrying her over his shoulder. “A healer’s going to look you over, so don’t go making this any more difficult. Wouldn’t want to stay confined any longer than you have to, eh?”

[wired-for-weird]

Once read a story about a naga and his vampire boyfriend using their respective hypnotic powers to “fight” over which one would get to dom the other, it was very fun (and pretty cute) and something I haven’t seen a lot. They both had different approaches so it added layers to it~

I don’t mean that in a “oh you should do something similar” way, more like an example of something that stuck with me as a cool way to explore power dynamics without involving humans

You seem to have such an extensive worldbuilding for mers, why not use that? Like, I’d want to read about mers banging in that context! There’s lore! I’m sure you’d come up with something I’d never have thought of! 

(I say that but also right now I’m in a phase where I prefer light-hearted stuff over dark, so don’t necessarily take this as a writing request if it’s not your style. But I’m curious to hear your thoughts!!)

oooooo that's a really interesting example. I do love that it's set up as an interplay of personal powers- my own go-to with human/monster stuff tends to focus on broader things, like physical differences and fundementally different requirements for just... being in the world. I feel like something you described would be a really fun way of developing the individuals personalities a bit more.

A lot of the mer worldbuilding me and my partner did definitely revolves around power play! if you're still on that light-hearted kick, anything I end up doing with it possibly wouldn't be for you at the moment- most mer live fairly brutal lives out of necessity, and their social/moral taboos reflect that. The handful of coastal communities who have the most interaction with humans are probably those that mst closely resemble general human morality, but ironically since they're the ones that interact with humans the most, they've probably got the most concretely bad reputation, since people are able to name specific individuals rather than just get a general sense of 'spooky people fish that fuck with our boats out in the ocean sometimes'.

That said, there's a reason that lore post has a whole chunk of its own dedicated to sex and gender XD since mer are hermaphrodites, but are only capable of presenting one set of genetalia at a time (unlike, say, most gastropods) persuading the body to pick one or the other is a central part of foreplay. There's probably communities where one role is held in higher esteem than the other, or communities where preferring only one role and avoiding anything that might prompt a change to the other is seen as anti-social, but equally there's communities where it simply Does Not Matter.

So, mixing and matching those expectations could be fun. Maybe one mer from a community where everyone is expected to switch roles and carry eggs but would much rather never do that part, matched with one mer who never seems to be able to find a partner who can get their body to present a vagina over a dick, despite the fact they'd much rather be the one to bear young. Or a mer from a community where preferences aren't expected to be fixed matched with a mer from one where they are. That kind of thing might be fun.

...unrelated to mers, but I do have a naga oc who has ended up with social parental instincts, despite being part of a species that is fundementally solitary. Maybe giving him a partner from a social species that communally raises their kids would be fun, like a werewolf beastie of some kind. That would be adorable actually (though it's extremely unlikely a reptile and a mammal could interbreed, and he'd be so cut up about that. I say, as the person in charge of the rules who doesn't have to decide this, but enjoys Suffering).

[otakushrew]

I'm still on my White Knight Chronicles x Final Fantasy XIV brainrot and nobody talks about WKC these days so "be the change" yadda yadda-

Some of the bunch don't have like, official surnames, and so based on certain item sets (Literally the sets they have in 2 where anyone of the same sex can wear them.) their surnames have been assigned.

Spoilers if you haven't played WKC, I suppose, because I will bring up bits about certain characters.

Here's how I Imagine the gang would start out upon leaving the familiar comfort of Nadias:

Leonard Wylde: Gladiator, because Sword and Board was kinda his thing in cutscenes and when using the Knight. You might not see him on the Bloodsands overmuch but rumor has it that his constant aiding of fellow adventurers and random smallfolk about town has caught the attention of the Sultansworn. He had a hard time picking his Patron, because while Oschon would suit any of them he's not exactly a wanderer. Eventually he settled on Rhalgr because something about the Destroyer reminded him of Rappaci.

Eldore Ardyn: Thaumaturge. Sure, he's a capable mage in Nadias, but the way I see it Aether/Magic flows differently between the two lands. A spell that works just fine on the Balastor Plain to kill that damn Troll is not going to function in Thanalan because something in the manipulation of energy is incompatible, and the same applies in reverse. He's fine with a sword, gods know I had him wielding the Longswords in WKC/WKC2, but if any of them were to turn their hand to magics they'd need to learn it all from scratch. As he was a tactician of some renown in the Dogma Era, he would take Thaliak for his Patron Deity.

Yulie Flavel: Archer. Some people probably made her the token Mage, but Archery is to her what Sword n' Board is to Leonard. Naturally, her experience carries between continents so she's teaching her guildmates as much as she is being taught. Oftentimes gives pelts from beasties she hunts to the Leatherworker's Guild. The argument could be made for Oschon as her Patron, but I see her as picking Menphina because Moon Maiden.

Caesar Drisdall: Lancer. Second verse, same as the first. While there was a bit of surprise in that not a singular person here has considered using a Shield in tandem with their lance (Though Ywain said a famous member of the Guild had also mentioned such a thing in passing, once...), Caesar takes to the training easily enough. Like Yulie, it's a "learning while teaching them a thing or two" situation. He has a bit of a rough time here though on account of (a) His Dragonsight going off at random times, like some offshoot of The Echo, and (b) Lingering Pyrexia from when he fought the Netherwyrm. Dragons still love him, and his patron is Halone. The Vermilion Dragoon

Kara Crow: Arcanist...was the plan. She took one look at where everyone's choices went and decided that she'd take to Limsa so they'd have their bases covered, but before she could approach the Arcanist's Guild she busted the ass of a would-be kidnapper, and one strange sequence of events later there was a new knife in the darkmans. That's right, Kara would be a Rogue. For appearance's sake she did manage to join the Arcanist's Guild, though. Her patron is Azeyma.

I like to think Setti would have had Nald'Thal as his Patron and he would have mainly been in the Miner's Guild, but an accidental encounter with a Dark Knight Soulstone would prove beneficial to him in the long run. (Ledom would have been Le-Doomed)

[ashandboneca]

Curie 2004/5-2024

To my bestest, most beautiful girl. My ever loving companion and friend. Who loved us beyond measure and showed us every single day. To my covid buddy, who kept constant vigil with me when I was sick. To our tank, who beat cancer. My dear Princess Dumptruck, who had the 2 braincells most ginger cats do. You gave us 17 of your 19 or so years, and we are profoundly honoured, grateful for your unconditional love, and forever changed. We love you so much, now and forever. Rest well, my sweet girl.

She was not well, and we knew it was time. It was quick, peaceful, and painless. Our hearts are full with love and gratitude, and profoundly broken by this loss.

Navigating this profound loss has been challenging. This beastie came to us at age 2 (we think, though it could have been closer to 3), who we rescued from a home with small children where she wasn't doing well. She was skittish, terrified, and hid under our big antique dresser for the first week we had her. She would back into corners and defecate all over the floor from fear as we approached. We were undeterred, and gave her as much space in a quiet place as she wanted to get used to not feeling like she needed to be in survival mode. We slowly won her trust with patience and gentle words.

My spouse was probably the first human she ever trusted, and I the second. She has been previously declawed in the front (which I view as a great cruelty), but she was quick to show her displeasure with a wallop from one of those paws. Slowly, with lots of patience, love, play, and a quiet and safe refuge from the world, she changed.

Curie was the most loving, affection-demanding cat I have ever known. At bedtime she would climb atop my spouse's chest and purr her face off. She would lick my elbows and shove her face in my face whenever I would lie on the bed.

She wasn't a fan of her brother, our other, more aloof cat. They behaved more as roommates than friends, content to leave each other in peace, mostly, especially as they grew older. Our other cat, Tesla, has been the more sickly cat since he was 3 or 4. He's been on allergy medication, a special diet, has had to get frequent allergy shots, and has thyroid issues. He's slowed down a bit at almost 19, but he's still acting normal. We always thought he would be the first to go. Curie was our tank, with never so much as a sick day until 2023, when she had a tumour removed from her hip and was diagnosed with thyroid issues. We often joked that she'd outlive us.

The last few weeks, she has slowed down considerably. She'd stopped coming out of the bedroom at night to chill on the couch with us, she wasn't drinking as much and she was picking at her food. She'd lost some weight. We had discussed that she may be on the first stages of death, and we may have to discuss euthanasia by the end of this month if things did not improve. We did not want our girl to suffer.

Sunday night, I brought her out to the couch with us to chill. She seemed tired, but content of the constant pets and ear scratches. Monday rolled around, and she was not well. We had the discussion again that we may have to look at letting her go sooner. She was suffering with the infirmities of old age. Monday night, before I went to bed, I kissed her little head and told her that if she needed to go, it was okay. That we would miss her forever and love her forever, but we did not want her to suffer. My partners each told her the same thing.

Tuesday morning we awoke to her in the same position on the bed, having peed on the bed. This was unheard of for her. I had thought to place a puppy pee pad under her blanket in case she went during the night, so she wouldn't be sitting in pee. The pad was soaked. We knew it was time. She looked so old and sad. We called the vet, and within an hour and a half, she was gone from this world.

I have set up a shrine in the bedroom for her. The vet so kindly gave us some fur, and took ink prints of her feet and nose. They cast her footprints in clay for us. I spent tonight painting a little wooden box to hold all of her toys and a bit of her fur. We have pictures, and I have her blanket folded up and in a ziploc bag to protect it.

This has been one of the most profound feelings of grief I have ever felt. I feel like a zombie, crying one moment, numb the next. The routine is hard, because we no longer have to feed her or medicate her. I've been taking my lunch breaks laying on the bed, trying to feel her spirit and essence near me. She feels so near, but the absence of her physical form is so hard. I say hi to her many times a day, touching my fingers in her little paw imprints, staring at her perfect little face, and going through all the stages of grief all at once.

There is great power to harness in grief. I'm just not there yet.

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2005 - Number 30 - Потап - "петя"

Back to Ukraine.

And to Потап (Potap) - rapper, hip-hop artist, PE teacher, water polo coach, general controversialist, music producer, film director, entrepreneur and all-round renaissance man of Ukrainian entertainment.

In 2005, he was technically still a part of Вхід у змінному взутті (VuZV) who also took part in Ukraine's national final, but on this occasion he chose to go it alone. He'd already had success with the band, and I suppose, the national final was an opportunity too good to pass up to get his name out there.

The song he went with is петя (Petya). First things first. That bassline. If ever there was as a song that was almost entirely about one instrument, this has to be up there. The bass slaps you about the head from the start and continues to funk to itself throughout - this song doesn't even need the rap. I'm trying to work out where it's sampled from or if it's actually not a sample at all. Whatever - woof. It's so good.

The rap, for which I don't have lyrics, has confidence and flow. It uses that bassline for its own syncopation, phrasing and metrical sure-footedness. The choruses are filled comedic bom-bom-boms. Even though this has no video, live performance or lyrics I can find, it feels akin to the Beastie Boys in its attitude and approach. Please, please correct me if I'm utterly wrong.

It finished last in its heat, so clearly this was not chiming with contemporary Ukrainian sentiments. I don't think it's got any political meanings buried deep inside, but if it has I'd love to know what they are.

Shortly after this, Потап formed a musical partnership that would see him through the bulk of his musical career. NK is a Ukrainian pop singer. Together with Потап they became Potap i Nastya and instantly had a huge hit with Ne Para - as of today the music video has over 49 million views on YouTube. For the next ten years, they became huge across Ukraine, Russia and farther afield. They won awards in many former Soviet countries. Потап set up his own studio and label - MOZGI, and began managing and signing other bands too. He also performs under that name too.

The problems began in 2014 with the Russian invasion of Crimea. Together with NK, he continued to attend award ceremonies in Russia which was met with much criticism, protests and boycotts. They insisted (and continue to do so) that they love their home country - but Russian money, popularity and success was hard to let go of. He has condemned the 2022 Russian invasion and stopped performing there, but questions about his loyalties remain to this day.

Perhaps with that in mind, he has recently started writing songs in Ukrainian rather than Russian and softened his style somewhat. Both with NK (who he married in 2019) and solo, there's something far more reflective about his most recent work. Here's Mama from earlier in 2024.

[crystalelemental]

Ongoing Nexomon. My wife is approaching endgame, we assume. I am way back at Hilda.

Her team is largely super stacked. Kitsunox as her starter, Luhava because she caught it, Prismazor which she doesn't love performance-wise but is sticking with, Torrex which has been pretty good for her, Jeeta, and Arctivore which is I think her favorite. She loved that pupper.

My own team has taken a bit of divergence. See, I like to run things based on design, and while there's okay variance, a lot of the final forms are just...very big monster-esque. Most of the things on her team are big beasties, and I like cute. I want to run cute things. So I wound up trading out a lot of my options for...much weaker options, admittedly. The current roster is:

Weabride. I fell in love with Weabride's design super early, I have been resistant to switching it out for anything. Like yes, I have Storm Horse (Storse), and I have Luhava, but are they Weabride? No. The only one that offers competition is Idolette, but I'm kinda irritated with her not learning any good Wind moves. Like, not even Tornado? Come on. Weabride also has an evasion boost effect, so I'm going to play around with that for sure. Far from the best, but I love it.

Lantora. Now this one? This one I have high hopes for. Offensively it's nothing special, and defensively it's a little frail statistically. But, she has an evasion debuff and a shield. And I can make use of that nonsense. I do think the stamina system is going to play her a bit, but I want to try, because this is one of the cutest designs in the game.

Emprabee. I just think it's cool. It was this or Resonect, and I went with this because I like its design a bit better. It's certainly not good. But I do like it regardless. Just wish it had stronger attacks. Still, Arcane Blast does lower Atk, I can work with that. Atk debuffs are actually somewhat substantial.

Seaguard. I just like seahorses. I have no strong motivations beyond thinking it's cool.

Monolix. Mineral is my weakest type, in that I don't particularly love any of them. Monolix wound up hitting a weird sweet spot, though. It's weird, and reminds me of Cofagrigus, and apparently has better raw statistics than the Frulf line somehow, while also having Energy Blast for better neutral damage. So I kinda think it's just better? And thus was sold.

Felynth. I was really excited about Basten at the start of the game, and it will be substituting in as my Fire-type with Fire Claw. It has a confuse move now, and learns Disruption Beam. So I'm happy with this.

I am keeping statistically stronger backups, in the form of a lot of Special and Mega Rare options. I do like the Spink line, and I'll always keep Jeeta around, but I'd really prefer to keep with the team above. Until shown otherwise, we're making it work.

As for mechanics, which I have a lot of thoughts for:

One thing that is interesting is that types are perfectly balanced. Two weaknesses, two strengths, Normal has nothing either way. Normal is both very good and very bad. Good because they all seem to have an attack of another element, so they’re flexible and fill in. Bad in that those coverage moves are often less valuable than a basic Energy Blast, and the lack of resistance makes switching in harder than other types.

All Nexomon only have their base movesets, nothing else can be learned. This makes for less variation, but on the flip side, means you avoid the Sandslash Problem, where you don’t learn a single goddamn move of your designated type without limited resources.

Stats are stats. They do not change, and two of the same Nexomon at the same level are completely identical. This has the benefit of alleviating my worst tendency in Pokemon (resetting for good nature/IVs), but has the detriment of meaning all commons are kinda hosed from the outset. There’s no way to truly salvage something that just isn’t statistically good.

Learned movesets are also a bit of give and take. Weabride has Tornado early, which is a devastating Wind move, but later game there’s an even stronger move that it doesn’t get access to. Alpoca has a Mineral attack, but it’s weak and doesn’t keep up. It’s sad, but even the Uncommons feel like they fall off.

I did track stats from before and after an evolution. They are completely unchanged. To my knowledge, there’s no actual difference. Which is kinda nice, you can run a pre-evolution without actually giving up anything. But it does make me question what the point is.

[puritates]

“it will be okay. i promise."

(o!Ciel!)

This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. The day had been wonderful, passing easily and full to the brim with Elizabeth's warm laughter. She'd waited nearly a month for this week's end, when she could spend it all with her fiancé at this manor. It had been lovely. Then night fell, and the usual beasties that visited the Phantomhive Manor began to creep in.

Footsteps of men too sure of themselves quickly turned into the sound of dull thuds of bodies hitting the floor. The butler was efficient, as always. It might have been his curiosity that allowed one rat to scamper too far—wanting to see just what would happen if someone got too close to where they shouldn't. What would young Elizabeth do if her life was in danger?

The intruder didn't even have time to feel it, let alone process the speed at which Lizzie woke up, caught sight of him, and the cold steel of her sword stabbed between his ribs. It was over in a fraction of a heartbeat. And that allowed the cold feeling of horror to creep in as she was left standing in a nightdress with a man's corpse still stuck on her blade. She screamed.

Mey-Rin was the first to arrive at the room before bolting out to inform her already-approaching master. The scene wasn't anything new for the Pahntomhive household. But it was new to Elizabeth.

Bizzare dolls were one thing. They were moving corpses. Unholy abominations of reanimated flesh. This... was a person. A human. She'd never killed a human before. Elizabeth was a murderer. She couldn't bring herself to look away from the dead man's glassy eyes.

Lizzie didn't flinch at Ciel's voice. She just kept staring at the man. His hand rested gently over her own but her white-knuckled grip on her sword didn't budge. It was like she'd turned into a statue.

But she was always weak to Ciel. His thumb brushing against the icy skin of her wrist finally made her break the staring contest she'd been trapped in, flicking over to meet beautiful sapphire blue.

"I killed him." As if he couldn't see her sword sticking him like a pig. "I didn't... mean to. But he was in my room and I didn't recognize him and--" Mother taught me not to hesitate.

The manor would swallow him up, erase him, and no one would find his body. At dawn, it would be like this man never existed. Because the Phantomhives didn't allow loose ends. Though it seemed like the guilt might be sticking in her heart for a while yet.

[cheerstoyourmustaches]

@koopzilla cont.

To emerge from an egg without a mother waiting up above is a cruel fate. So, upon discovering the egg nestled deep in one of Darkland's many trenches, he had waited. The king would see this creature born safely. Much as Kamek had for him. Someone has to do it. His efforts are rewarded. Bowser smiled contently as his kin emerged from the egg. The dragon erupts like a volcano at birth! It gets a laugh from its audience. An eggshell flung towards the crater shatters. He granted the youngen a moment to analyze its surroundings. The wretched heats and cold dark skies of the land deserve a moment of processing. Eventually, the king approached carefully. His claws are raised, opened in peace, one containing a large silver jug. He steps softly and keep his grating tones hushed. "Easy. Easy, Champ. You're safe." Bowser has outgrown baby language, but the mood is obvious. The critter is tense. Confused. Possibly upset. He stopped a short distance, looking the dragon up and down.

"Heh! Look at you! You're something special. I don't know who left you here... but they're missing out! Ya hungry?" Sure enough, the practiced parent had come prepared. His metallic offering is a thermos filled to the brim with milk for the newborn. "Ah?"

To transform into a scaley beast so hideously unbeany is one nightmare in itself, but to also find himself trapped in another egg-prison is quite another! Perhaps it was part of the curse to start from square one in the life of a miserable lizard? Though he wasn't sure there was a curse out there dedicated to teaching one biology, so it was probably just a cherry on top of the misery cake he'd been served.

Contrary to the Koopa King's views, Peasley would have preferred an audience of zero upon gathering enough energy through a nap spent baking among the hot rocks the egg had appeared among and quite frankly looked no different from. After all, he was not exactly looking his best as a beasty - and on top of that, his beasty self was also a mess - mottled with egg slime that gave his scales a temporary sleekness, but smelled exactly what you would think an egg left out in the heat for too long would smell of.

Upon spotting the tyrant, Peasley wants to bury his head in the sand. His only saving grace is a mistaken identity so at least this won't reflect poorly on Mother and the Beanbean kingdom. Still, he can't help but wonder where that blast of magic had come from in the Darklands that had done this to him. He should take no chances , especially not with Bowser-...was that milk?

A reptilian gaze set into permanent fury thanks to bushy brows squints at the offering. "...rohhh-...HO!? [Do I look like a CHILD to you?!]" The prince is quick to find a temporary balance on back claws to reach up with a claw and swat the thermos out of the other's hand! Milk pools around the dirt and cool the pads of his toes briefly, but it's not enough to stop a tantrum which consists of throwing his head back to screech, drool flying free and fangs flashing! By the time his voice hits a dry note, he's choking slightly. It's hard to wet one's whistle in such dry air...oh bother!

Choking all the way to the dirt, he indignantly laps at the ground milk as a low bellow rumbles somewhere in his chest.

[djmossback]

Spacebar 15 April 2023

620 W Idaho St, Boise, ID 83702

(THIRD SPACE SATURDAY)

(PICTURED) Bike, São Paulo Brazil. Track is BOCA DO SOL, from the QUARTO TEMPLO lp

2100 to 0100 0153

TASTING NOTES

My first Third Space Saturday in the new Spacebar, and it took me a minute to get situated. Even though I was there on 18 March on the opening weekend in the new digs, I was sharing the booth with DJ IGA, and collaborative sets unfold in different ways than solo sets. The way we do split sets is more fluid, and IGA’s presentations make me see and hear things differently, and changes my point of view. He is more technically proficient with the decks and mixer than I am, so his precision combined with my freewheeling sloppiness makes for an interesting listening experience. I didn’t share that set list here because it was a spring training game, and the results don’t count in the standings. It doesn’t matter what happens in March, the games start in April.

Truth of the matter: I forgot to take notes.

I have several records I use for an opener, but this night I wanted to do something different. I thought about opening with my newly acquired 12” of Amii Stewart Knock On Wood, but went with the Bowie instead. The extended mix has more saxophone, and the 12” mix kicks harder than the 7” I usually play, so I was pleased with that. I wanted to save Knock for later in the set.

I was having difficulty getting the volume and sound balance right, and it’s something I will have to keep working on.

I intended to throw Link Wray on, but chose Bill Justis Raunchy instead. Did I run out of time, or miscount the bands on the comp I was taking it from? I don’t know, but it worked.

The first half hour was shaky, in my opinion, but I am still kind of rusty, and it took a while for things to resemble a groove. I never plan out sets. I have records I bring, and construct the set from those records, and try to make something listenable out of it. I’m not there to inflict myself on an unsuspecting audience, I’m there to share, and to provide the vibe, to give people an enjoyable environment to relax in, be they patrons, or my colleagues in the bar, who are unbelievably supportive. I love seeing them nodding their heads as they do their job, because all of us who work, or have worked in the service industry know how oppressive bad vibes are.

I did include a couple of friends bands in the set. Sun Atoms, and Bike, who I both saw and met at Treefort. The bands sound great, at the festival, and on the record.

I went an extra hour because I didn’t know how to end it, and I was feeling it, and my brother by law came by late to hang. So, starting with the Pet Shop Boys, I brought things down a notch (for me,) and stayed away from super uptempo bangers.

I played a lot of records.

Next set is a short one, at the Record Store Day after party, Earth Day, 22nd April. Trying to craft an approach that’s different than my usual set.

I’ll bring a lot fewer records.

THE SONGS

David Bowie, Let’s Dance (12 inch mix)

Pointer Sisters, He’s So Shy (7”)

Bill Justis, Raunchy (LP)

Police, Message In A Bottle (7”)

Maytals, Monkey Man (LP)

Dazz Band, Let It Whip (7”)

Cameo, Back And Forth (12”)

GQ, Boogie Oogie Oogie (7”)

Billy Squier, Everybody Wants You (LP)

Judas Priest, Metal Gods (LP)

ZZ TOP, Sleeping Bag (12”, 45RPM extended mix)

J-Kwon, Tipsy (radio mix)

Beastie Boys, So Whatcha Want (LP track)

Soho, Hippy Chick (12” extended mix)

Shreikback, My Spine (Is The Baseline) (promo 12”)

Sun Atoms, Half Robot, Half Butterfly (LP track)

Wire, Ahead (12 45RPM)

Skee-Lo, I Wish (12” vocal)

Cheryl Lynn, Got To Be Real (7”)

Prince, I Wanna Be Your Lover (7”)

Bobby Brown, My Prerogative (7”)

Junior, Mama Used To Say (12” extended mix)

Cure, The Walk (ep cut)

Toto, Hold The Line (LP cut)

Nazareth, Hair Of The Dog (LP cut)

Amii Stewart, Knock On Wood (12” disco mix)

Bee Gees, Jive Talkin’ (7”)

PJ Harvey, Down By The River (7”)

Cramps, What’s Inside A Girl (12” 45RPM)

Stooges, Loose (LP cut)

Presidents Of The USA, Lump (LP cut)

Jay-Z, 99 Problems (LP cut)

Ruts, Out Of Order (LP cut)

Stanley Clarke, School Days (LP cut)

Thundercat, Them Changes (LP cut)

Kendrick Lamarr, Yah (LP cut)

Bob Vylan, Big Man (LP cut)

Dry Cleaning, Scratchcard Lanyard (7”)

Bob Seger, Ramblin’ Gamblin Man (LP cut)

Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Want To Have Fun (7”)

Alan Jackson, Chattahoochie (7”)

Moon Mullican, 7 Nights To Rock (LP cut)

Sparkletones, Black Slacks (7”)

Otis & Carla, Tramp (7”)

Taste Of Honey, Rescue Me (LP cut)

Positive K, I Got A Man (12”)

Time, 777-9311 (LP cut)

B-52’s , 6060-842 (7”)

Tommy Tutone, 866-5309 (7”)

INXS, The One Thing (12”)

Joe Jackson, TV AGE (12”)

Orb, Little Fluffy Clouds (12”)

Human League, Human (12”)

Average White Band, Pick Up The Pieces (LP cut)

Rufus Thomas, Walking The Dog (7”)

Killing Joke, Follow The Leader (LP cut)

Malcolm McClaren, Double Dutch (12”)

Abbysinians, Declaration Of Rights (LP cut)

ZZ Top, Beer Drinkers & Hell Raisers (LP cut)

Vince Staples, Big Fish (LP cut)

Bike, Boca do Sol (LP cut)

Zapp & Roger, Mega Mix (12”)

Pet Shop Boys, West End Girls (12”)

TLC, No Scrubs (12”)

Scritti Politti, Sweetest Girl (12”)

Herbie Hancock, Chameleon (LP cut)

Sade, Hang On To Your Love (12”)

Heatwave, Groove Line (7”)

Michael Jackson, Rock With You (7”)

Patrice Rushen, Forget Me Nots (7”)

Junior Murvin, Police & Thief (7”)

Next THIRD SPACE SATURDAY SET:

20 May, 2023

Special thanks go to Will for providing this awesome place for us to hang in. Thank you, my brother.

DIRECTIONS.