#And then laughed at the idea of people thinking Dog man has rabies because he ate whipped cream-

[bakurik]

Me: So I had to put down Dog man-

My partner: YOU PUT DOWN DOG MAN?

Anyway, have this fandom. I am SORRY.

[theonlinemuse]

In the comics, Rick had more relatives (like his cousin Rebecca) and he probably would've been a big brother had his parents lived. Since we like to joke that he’s the ultimate big brother to the JSA, me and @freckledpianoman decided to make him a big brother in an AU where Wendi and Rex live: 

His little sister’s named Rebecca, but Rick calls her Bex for short. He only calls her Rebecca if she’s annoying him and full names her (“Rebecca Gwendoline Tyler!”) when she’s in trouble. She’s seven and Rick often wonders if he has a little sister or a little monkey with how she’s forever getting into places she shouldn’t be in 

“How did you even get in my room, I locked it from the inside.” “What, like it’s hard?” 

She also likes perching on his shoulders because she likes seeing everything and feeling as tall as her brother 

Rick didn’t know it at first, but Bex knew Beth first. Beth works in the children’s library on Saturdays where she does read alouds for kids and Bex is always talking about the smart girl who reads all sorts of fun stories to her. Bex often requests for Beth to do certain voices and accents and thinks that the voice that Beth does for grumpy characters makes her sound like her brother 

He’s wondering who his sister befriended because this Beth person seems too good to be true. One day he’s running late to pick Bex up because he had engine problems and when he gets there, he sees his little sister being read to while she's sitting in the lap of a pretty girl 

Bex sees him turning red and she tugs at his sleeve and goes, “Rick, don't embarrass me, she’s really nice” 

Rick and Bex have a very petty rivalry over getting Beth’s attention

“Stop trying to steal my friend, Rick! I had her first!” “Kids, behave.” Wendi has to give them a look so that Beth doesn’t think they're heathens

Bex notices the look that her brother has every time he talks with Beth and she’s this close to giving him a shovel talk 

“Stop trying to steal Beth!” “We go to the same school, I’d see her anyway!” “What, no fair! Do you have lunch with her? Does she share her brownies with you?” “Hmm, maybe she does, I guess you'll never know.” 

And Bex chases after him while he laughs 

Wendi ends up with a surprise pregnancy in her mid-forties a few months before Rick's sixteenth birthday. He’s torn between “you’re already old, stop having children” and being anxious over her pregnancy. He glares at Rex and goes, “this is what happens when you don’t keep your hands to yourself”. Rex is sitting there like “shouldn’t I be the one lecturing you on keeping your hands to yourself?” “Don’t distract me, old man, you’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

Everyone argues over baby names, but they eventually settle on Rowan. Her middle name is Elizabeth and yes, she was named for Beth. It was Rick and Bex’s idea since they were allowed to pick a middle name

Beth thought that she heard wrong at first, but she sees Rick smile softly and nod and it’s all happy tears for her. Later Beth buries her face in his chest and scolds him for making her cry 

“You named a baby after me, how else am I supposed to react?”

It doesn’t help that Rowan’s first word is “Beff” 

Rex taught his kids how to use the hourglass in case of emergencies. Rick has used the hourglass before for training. Bex got banned from using the hourglass because she somehow lifted up a corner of the house because she was trying to get her baseball back 

“How?!” “Artemis taught me how to lift with my knees.” 

Rick’s usually very responsible with the hourglass save for a couple of times when he impulsively stole it for “missions”, aka helping Beth or Bex. The third time was when he set the hourglass down while Rowan was using the coffee table to pull herself up and she ended up using it to lift the couch to get her pacifier from under it

“Dad, I think I broke Rowan!” 

Beth often finds Rick asleep on the couch with Rowan napping on his chest. It’s as adorable as it sounds and she takes pics for the group chat. And sometimes she catches him singing softly to Rowan. Bex says that he did the same when she was little and they joke about Rick being the ultimate big brother to the JSA and to Bex and Rowan 

There have been times where Rick and Bex will come out of their rooms to find Beth helping Rex with chemistry stuff, having completely forgotten they were supposed to be hanging out. While Rick’s glad that Beth gets a chance to discuss things with another chemistry nerd (even if it is his dad), the Tyler siblings are still put out by it. It was bad enough that Wendi asked her to pose for her newest painting, but now they have to worry about their dad stealing Beth 

They have to sneak Beth into the house so Rex can’t grab her on her way in, Bex clinging to Beth while Rick guides her in with his hand on her back 

But Rick sees how much fun Beth has posing for Wendi’s paintings and he’s just happy that Beth’s happy 

Beth and Rick share custody of Hootie and after Rowan was born, Rick does not want that ‘damn feral bird’ anywhere near his baby sister, but Hootie acts like a guard owl for Rowan. He tried shooing Hootie away from her crib, but he ends up getting his head pecked while Hootie lands in the crib, nuzzling Rowan's hair much to Rick's horror. He thinks she'll get rabies

Beth scolds Rick when she hears about it from Bex. “Your mom already had Rowan get her shots and Hootie’s up to date on all of his. They’ll be fine.” And Rick comes home one day to find Hootie perched on Wendi’s shoulder while she holds Rowan 

“Mom. There is an owl on your shoulder, why aren't you freaking out?” “He never does anything, he’s just curious about her.” “He’s a wild bird, not a dog.” “He’s basically a dog, Bex plays fetch with him.”

“Of course she does. Trust Beth to rescue a bird just as weird as her.” “Please, you love her weirdness.” 

There’s a babysitting episode where Rick has to babysit his sisters because Wendi and Rex have date night and Rex goes, "do not call us, Rick, I just want a night out with your mother and if you even think about sending a text, I’ll call Beth and tell her how you feel about her. Do not test me, son.” Rick thinks his dad is seriously pent up but as the car pulls out of the driveway, Rick gets a text from Rex that says “you should invite Beth over for some company while you watch your sisters”

Rick is more than a little disturbed that his dad of all people is playing matchmaker

Bex perks up when she hears that Beth might be coming over and she climbs over Rick to try and get to his phone so that she can call Beth. “Bex, stop that, I’ll call her.” “But you take too long, Riri.” It’s a wonder that Beth is able to hear him over Bex constantly interjecting and saying that she wants to talk with her

Beth offers to help out with dinner, but Rick keeps shooing her out of the kitchen, saying that she should relax and hang out with the girls. “But cooking is relaxing for me.” “Go watch a stupid sitcom or something, I’ll be done in a minute.”

They take turns feeding Rowan while she's in her high chair, she’s a very messy eater and Rick always gets food on him whenever he feeds her. But it doesn't stop Rowan from trying to put her hands all over her brother's face. She thinks the faces he makes are funny and Bex just eggs her on 

It's times like this where Rick is glad that Beth is here because as much as he loves his sisters, they can be a handful. “Bex, stop encouraging this.” “Aim for his eyes next time, Rowan.” “No!” He sees Rowan pouting and he has to go into stern big brother mode. “We do not poke people's eyes, young lady.”

Beth thinks it's funny when Rick gets all stern with the girls and she starts calling him “old man”. He's so affronted by it and you know he's gonna get back at her for it once the girls are put to bed. Beth knows it too and she tries to escape, but it ends up with Rick chasing her all over the house before he finally tackles her onto the couch

“Get off me, you might break your hip.” “Sorry, I think my hip is acting up. You’re stuck here now.” “You’re a jerk." “It’s fair game, sweetheart.” “Well, you really sound like an old man now.” Rick just pins her down with his hips and goes, “does this feel old to you?” “I dunno Rick, how are you feeling? Any joints out of place?” Rick smirks and the next thing Beth knows, she’s being princess carried. “You tell me.”

Rick just twirls her around just to hear her laugh more and that’s what Wendi and Rex walk in on. Rick almost drops Beth, but she clings onto him before he can. Wendi has a mischievous grin as she asks if Beth and Rick had fun. She wishes she had her phone out to take a pic of how red Rick’s face went. Beth is embarrassed, but Wendi and Rex invite her to stay the night since her parents are away and it’s too late for her to go home

“Listen, I love Beth and I want you to make a move, don't get me wrong, but I am not ready for grandkids.” “Dad, gross, mom already gave me the talk. I haven't even thought about having kids yet.” “Lies, I’ve seen the way you look at Beth whenever she holds Rowan.” “That doesn’t mean I’m imagining having kids with her!” “I’m not stupid, I’ve given that look before.”

Rick is horrified because he did not want to hear that, but it does explain Bex and Rowan. “Bottom line, you and Beth need to be responsible.” “You’re saying all this like there’s even a chance something’ll happen.” “Do I need to point out the way you look at her?” “Dad, please, can you just—stop embarrassing me in front of my friends? I’ve worked too hard to trick Beth into thinking that having me as a friend may actually not be such a bad idea for you to scare her away now.”

“You don't give Beth enough credit. She’s here to stay.”

Once there was a problem with the daycare that Rowan was supposed to be at and Rick had picked her up before lunch and now she’s hanging at the loser table with the JSA. Rick is treated like an exhibit at the zoo because of his baby sister because she’s just babbling happily in his arms and she gets away with pulling his hair

The teachers are just watching Rick come and go to classes with a baby like it’s no big deal and the students just look at him in shock because the delinquent they’ve all been told to avoid is being ordered around by an infant

And now they have a front row seat for Beth and Rick coparenting Rowan. A couple people straight up ask if they're dating because it’s such a domestic sight. Beth is startled and blurts out, “oh no, no, we’re best friends”

Rick is off to the side, quiet but heartbroken. Rowan pats his face to comfort him 

One time when Rick was out of the house and Beth was hanging out with the girls, Bex randomly asks Beth if she likes Rick. “He’s my best friend, of course I like him.” “I meant do you like like him, like how mom and dad do.” “Oh, um—” "Because it’s okay if you do. Rowan and me like you and so do mom and dad.” Beth looks unsure so Bex and Rowan cuddle with her 

Rick comes back to find all of them cuddling and he catches Bex giving Beth a look. He knows something is up because he knows Bex, that's her ‘I did something and I don't want Rick to know’ look. “What did you do?” “Not even a hi, Riri?” “That’s the same look you had when you let a lava cake explode in the oven and tried to hide it from mom.”

“I didn’t do anything! Maybe you’re trying to hide something so you’re deflecting onto me!” “Did Beth teach you what deflecting means?” “She’s been helping me get ready for the spelling bee, duh. And I’m not deflecting.” “Rebecca Gwendoline, what did you do?” “On second thought, I’m going to bed early tonight, byyeee!”

He just looks at Rowan, who’s gnawing on the plush owl that Beth gave her. “You’re not telling me either, are you?” She blows a raspberry at him. “Of course not. Hanging around Beth has made you and Bex too smart for your own good.”

Beth and Rick once looked after the girls for the weekend while Wendi and Rex go on vacation. The guest room is practically already Beth's room so the Tylers tell her she can just stay over, though Rex did expect them to share a bed. He and Wendi have a little bet going on about it. They end up video calling Beth on the first night 

Meanwhile Beth and Rick are snuggled up against each other when Beth glances at her phone and goes “oh crap” and pushes Rick away from her as she answers, but the Tylers can still hear Rick grumbling. Beth keeps glancing towards Rick, who’s just sitting there pouting because precious time is being wasted and he knows the girls will be awake soon. “Beth, honey, are you okay? You’re looking a little distracted.” “Uh—I’m fine! Just making sure the girls aren't already awake.” 

“Rick isn’t giving you trouble, is he?” Beth sneaks a look at a glowering, pouty Rick. “No?” Right after she says that, he starts sneaking his hand up her waist and she lets out a choked gasp. “Beth?” “Okay, he is a little,” she admits before swatting Rick’s hand away

“Is he awake yet? We can tell him to stop being such a demon if you need us to.” “Uh—no! He's asleep. In his room. You know how he gets, low blood pressure demon and all that.” “Oh, you have no idea. Rex says he still has phantom pains where Rick clawed him the last time he tried to wake him up.” 

“You sure we had a kid and not a feral cat?” Rick forgets himself and goes, “I was seven, get over it old man.” Beth drops her phone onto her lap to panic while Rex and Wendi quietly crack up on the other end of the call

They can still hear her admonishing Rick. “Why would you say that, now your parents are gonna be wondering what I’m doing in your room and this is so embarrassing!” 

Beth’s hiding her face in her hands and Rick grabs her phone off her lap and says “uh—we're gonna go, I think I just heard Rowan.” “Rowan won’t be waking up for another hour—” “Bye mom, love you.” 

Rick spends the next little while coaxing Beth to stop hiding. “It’s not that bad, you know my parents love you.” He rests his head on her shoulder and goes, “c’mon, Beth”, but she jerks away and says “no, I’m never living this down” 

“This isn't the first time they’ve caught us in bed together.” “Not helping, Rick!”

He hugs himself against her and feels her relax, but she’s still hiding her face. Then his phone buzzes and he holds his screen up to her to show a text from Wendi saying, “tell Beth we trust her (not you)”. Beth collapses into giggles over the text

“My own parents think I’m some kind of deviant!” “Okay, but is that such a wild assumption to make? I didn’t even say anything that bad!” “Oh? Then did I just imagine you calling me trouble, sweetheart?”

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Things I Will Not Actually Write

....okay, so, this has been kicking around my head for a bit and I’m not going to take it any further because getting people to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City never goes well for me (although some of the goblins are wicked fun to write), but.

Um

Here you go.

-

-

��...and the poor girl was practically a slave.”

“Like Cinderella?” Miss Sybbie asked, all wide eyes.

“Very much like, yes,” Thomas agreed. Nanny wasn’t feeling well, so Anna had agreed to put the children down for the night, after she’d seen to Lady Mary. Since that would take awhile yet, Thomas had been roped, without too much fuss, into telling them a bedtime story.

“But Cinderella had two step-sisters,” George protested. “This girl just has the baby, and he’s a boy!”

“Well, a wicked step-brother would be equal to a wicked step-sister, I should think,” Thomas reasoned. He didn’t mind the interruptions too much. He liked seeing how the children thought and the challenge of finding answers to their questions.

“But why only one?” George persisted.

“Was he ugly as well as wicked?” Johnny Bates suggested. “That would make him twice as bad.”

Thomas hesitated. He wasn’t certain he should encourage the children thinking of ugly being the same thing as wicked, in the long run. What if they took a dislike to some visiting dignitary’s face? Still, if he let them bird walk too far, he wouldn’t be able to finish the story before Anna came. “Yes, yes he was. Terribly ugly and terribly spoiled, and so you can see why the poor girl was so miserable. But,” he continued before any of them could cut in again, “What no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love the girl, and he had granted her certain powers.” He switched to his best, sinister voice, which made Caroline hide behind her brother, but she didn’t actually fuss, so he kept going. “’Say your right words,’ the goblins said, ‘And we’ll take the baby to the goblin city and you will be free!’”

“Yay!” Sybbie cheered, a bit preemptively.

Thomas held up a finger. “But the girl knew that the goblins would keep the baby in their castle forever and ever and turn it into a goblin.”

“Well if he was spoiled and wicked and ugly, he was already a goblin!” George scoffed, not at all concerned with the fate of the fictional baby. Johnny and Sybbie nodded in agreement.

“No, he was just a terrible baby,” Thomas corrected, mostly in the interest of keeping the story going. “As a goblin, the girl knew he’d be even worse! And so she suffered in silence until one day when she was tired from a day of house work and she was hurt by the harsh words of her step-mother and she could no longer take it. She looked down at the baby and, in a fit of exhausted rage, she said - ”

“Abracadabra!” George cried, cheerfully.

“Ababada!” Caroline imitated him as best she could.

“Bibbity bobbity boo!” Sybbie chimed in. Thomas had no idea where she’d gotten that.

“I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now.”

“That’s it?” Sybbie scrunched up her face. “Those aren’t very magic words!”

Before Thomas could reply, there was a crash from the hallway that made them all jump. The noise frightened Caroline into tearing up and she started to whine. Sensing a full on wail about to start, Thomas made a quick, soothing noise. “Oh, there now, it’s probably nothing. Teo’s likely knocked something over, that’s all. Here, I’ll go have a look.”

“But the story!” Johnny protested.

“The story can wait a minute,” Thomas told him, standing. “I’ll be back in just a minute to finish it. Promise.” Putting action to word, he stepped into the hallway, letting the nursery door close behind him. Further down the hall, a vase was lying broken in the middle of the floor, which was odd, because there was no reason for a vase to be there. Frowning, Thomas walked over and examined it, then looked around for a sign of anyone. The hall was quite empty. After a moment’s deliberation, he picked up the pieces so the dog couldn’t step on them, and carried them with him back into the nursery. “Right then,” he said, stepping back through the door. “Where were -”

He stopped mid thought and looked at the rug in front of the fireplace where he’d left the small gathering of children. It was empty. Not only that, but the lights had been turned out. Frowning, he flicked the switch, but nothing happened. He looked around the shadowed room, but couldn’t see anything. “Master George? Miss Sybbie?” he asked, making his way carefully over to drop the vase shards in the dust bin. “Miss Caroline? Johnny? Are you playing hide and seek?” He tried the lights again with the same results.

In one of the beds, something moved, making a strange noise, then fell silent.

Thomas froze for a moment, then started slowly forward. “Master Geroge? Is that you?”

Off to his right, a drawer opened, then slammed shut. That was definitely not one of the girls. Thomas stopped in the middle of the room. “Alright, come out where I can see you. Come out right this minute and I won’t tell your parents about this prank.”

Something rolled into the middle of the room, then stopped and looked up at him. It was definitely not one of the children. It was small and roundish and hairy with orange eyes. It laughed at him and then rolled away.

Outside, the wind had come up.

Suddenly the room was alive with things, moving just on the edge of Thomas’s vision. One of them ran over his shoe, making him jump. He whirled, grabbing at shadows, trying to get hold of one of them, but they were never where he expected them.

Something beat at the window. Turning, he saw it was an owl.

He ignored it in favor of the thing that tried crawling up his leg, but was somehow not there when he looked down. There were noises in the shadows. The things he couldn’t quite see laughed and twittered and chirruped. “Show yourselves!”

Something climbed up the wall.

Something else moved behind the curtains.

There was a splintering sound and the window burst open, the owl flying into the room and rushing at Thomas in a flurry of wings. With a startled cry, he threw his arms up to ward the bird off. He’d never heard of owls carrying rabies, the way bats did, but he was pretty certain he didn't want it’s talons in his face.

Then the owl was gone. With it went the laughs and twitters and chirrups. Even the wind died down.

Slowly, Thomas lowered his arms.

There was a figure standing in front of the window, framed by the moonlight. It looked like a man, of sorts. The face was handsome enough, although framed by an absolutely ridiculous puff of golden hair. Really, he’d have thought it effeminate, from it’s length, but no woman he knew would suffer hair like that. Similarly, its eyes were done up like it was in some sort of theater production. There could be no denying it was male, however. It worse obscenely tight trousers.

And yet, for all of its ridiculousness, the figure definitely had a sort of otherworldly aura about it. Thomas swore he could almost hear a kind of music behind the silence.

Only one thought ran through his head: Lady Mary and Anna were going to kill him. “Oh come on!” he protested. “It was just a story!”

[love-carries-on]

Love Carries On: Chapter IV

The next morning, Logan and Virgil left early in the morning to go to the doctor, while the other three took off for the local dog shelter and then to the training facility. The second they walked into the shelter, something about Diego changed. They had filled him in on the plan, but when he walked in, his eyes went flat. He furrowed his brow, teetering on his feet and almost crashing into Roman. Patton reached out and grabbed his shoulder, helping him to stay upright. He blinked a few times, before the look cleared and he smiled brightly.

“Doggies.” He whispered, looking around at them all with wide eyes.

“Yes, D. Doggies.” Patto responded. He looked around at all the different dogs, he saw a few that caught his eye, larger dogs with a playful look in their eyes. But none of them seemed right.

The woman who was helping them with a dog walked behind them, gesturing to dogs and providing information about them. Roman walked away from the other two so that he could think without the woman talking to him. That’s when he saw her. She was sitting laying in the middle of her kennel, panting, but at the appearance of Roman; she sat up, her ears pointed at attention. When Roman was about thirteen he had hyperfocused on learning everything he could about dogs, and from what he remembered, she appeared to be pure-bread. She was a long haired German shepherd, her fur was black and what could only be described as orange or golden. She watched Roman, either waiting for some type of command or waiting for him to pet her.

The woman hurried to catch up to Roman. “That’s Stella, really a sad story. She was brought in after her last owner died. The people who brought her in said she used to be a service dog, and that she might not go well because she wasn’t exclusively a pet.” She leaned towards the fence, like she was fond of Stella. “We’re a nonkill shelter, and quite frankly she’s a sweetheart.”

Roman bounced excitedly, This is the perfect dog for Logie. “Pat, D! I found the dog for Logie.” he gestured them over, clapping his hands.

They came over, and after relaying the information he learned about Stella; they were fully prepared to adopt her. Roman texted Virgil about her, and waited for his go ahead. They wanted everyone to love her just as much as he did.

Virgil received the text as soon as they had stepped into the doctor’s office. It buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled out his phone just as Logan tapped him on the shoulder to say something.

“How’s the dog shopping going?” He asked carefully.

He couldn’t see the shock on Virgil’s face but it wasn’t hard to assume that he was surprised. “You are aware that Roman is rather loud yes? Besides, you’d have to tell me at one point, I would need to be present when the dog was being trained.”

Virgil sighed, and had his phone read the message to Logan. “We found a dog! Her name is Stella and she’s really pretty! I’ll send you a picture. The lady said that she was training to be a service dog, I bet Logie will love her.”

Logan laughed, and pulled out his phone. “Call Roman.” He spoke to his phone, and the phone started ringing.

He answered after two rings, trying not to sound like he was covering for something. “Hey Lo, how’s the doctor’s going?”

“Roman, I know you’re trying to find me a dog.”

Silence.

“And while I thought it was a bad idea, and I still think it might be a bad idea. Patton was right; I should make use of every opportunity I may have to help myself.” A lie, he was only truly accepting the dog to make Patton and the rest of them happy, he didn’t really want a dog because of how people might look at him.

“I’m glad you’re on board.” Roman smiled in excitement.

“Well you’d need me to train her anyhow.”

“Mr. Hollow.”

“I’ve got to go Ro, but get Stella, and we and we can talk about her training when we get home.” He hung up, and reached out for Virgil’s hand to lead him to the door.

Roman closed his phone and turned back to the other three. “Logan knew we wanted to get him a dog.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that we should get the dog so that he can help us train her and take all advantages of anything that could help him.” He shrugged, but turned to the woman. “How does this all work?”

“You’ll sign some papers, there are a few fees that need to be paid. After that, you have a few things you should do for your dog; but nothing that comes with me.” She opened the kennel door, and let Stella out.

Stella sniffed at the three standing there, and then sat down and waited for them to pet her. Roman moved towards her first, petting her ears and her neck, smiling when she pushed against his hand. The woman brought over a leash and clipped it to Stella’s collar. She handed the handle to Roman, and then led them back towards the front room.

“I’ll get the papers so that you can sign for her.” She slipped into a back room, coming back with a paper. “It’ll be a $25 dollar adoption fee and a signature here and then she’s yours.”

Roman nodded and reached into his pocket for his wallet while Patton signed for Stella. He pulled out the money and set it on the counter. The lady took the money, looked over the paperwork and then bid them goodbye. As soon as they were out to the parking lot, they started to figure out how to fit everyone in Roman’s red 2000 Taurus. He drove, and Patton sat in the passenger seat. Dorian (who it appeared Diego had switched to) insisted on sitting next to the new dog.

He spent the entire time they drove home petting Stella, and cooing at her. As soon as they got home (deciding that the first order of business was to go home so that she would know where she was living and she could explore), Roman made a call to the veterinarian clinic in town. He found out from the person who had answered the phone that they had an open spot in about an hour. He set up the appointment, glad that Logan and Virgil should be home by then so that Logan could meet Stella.

They got home fifteen minutes before Roman wanted to leave to take Stella for a checkup. The minute they opened the door, she went from panting on the floor, her head in Dorian’s lap, to sitting up stiffly, her ears perked and eyes trained on the door. Virgil saw her immediately, and recalling what his parents had taught him when they had a dog, he patted his thigh.

As if waiting for this silent command, Stella bounded over to him, wagging her tail excitedly. He did the hand command for sit, and she followed his commands with ease. He grabbed Logan’s hand and led him down towards her. He seemed briefly confused, and then he felt the dog and a smile broke across his face.

“Hi Stella.” He murmured, and he couldn’t see it, but her tail started wagging.

“Do you want to see if she knows voice commands?” Roman translated Virgil’s signs as he came over. “Or that’s what Virgil asks anyway.”

“Uhm, okay.” He cleared his throat, before turning towards where he thought Virgil was (based on the hand on his, towards his left). “What should I say?”

“Well she’s already sitting. So maybe lay down, or see if she knows how to heel.”

“Okay, umm, down.” He used a firm tone, and despite the fact that he had been petting her seconds before, her fur disappeared from underneath his fingers and he assumed that she was laying down now.

He stepped away from Virgil and more towards the center of the room. “Stella heel.”

He felt her brush up against him, and then the feeling of her sitting down, it was clear that she knew most commands. He reached down and pet her. “Good girl.” His tone was warm. He had been hesitant about getting a dog simply because he was unsure how much love he had, he loved four men, surely that was all his heart could hold, but this dog had already secured a place in his heart.

“Well, I need to take her to the vet so they can do a checkup and make sure she has her shots.” He grabbed his keys off the table. “Want to come along?” He could tell that Logan was already attached to her. “And then afterwards we’ll go shopping to get her all of her things.”

“I would like to go yes.”

“Excellent, we need to leave like right now though.”

“I see.” He walked back towards the door, standing in front of it. He couldn’t hear Stella near him, so he put out his hand just a little bit. “Stella, come.”

Immediately he heard her claws against the floor, and then felt her head against his hand. “Let’s go.” He directed the comment at Roman, stepping back to let him open the door so that they could go get in the car.

Logan opened the back door and patted the seat; waiting for Stella to get in and lay down. As soon as he felt her shift the seat, he closed the door; walking around to the passenger side. He could only tell the difference because Roman directed him around, shouting out the window to direct him.

As soon as he was seated, and buckled in, Roman started the car. It was a short drive into town. The arrived a few minutes early and seated themselves in the waiting room. Stella laying at Logan’s feet. She’d clearly picked her favorite even though she had her head rested on Roman’s foot.

The nurse came out, and seeing as Logan, Roman and Stella were the only people in the waiting room, she gestured them back. They got Stella up on the table, and Logan and Roman stood near the door awkwardly.

Thankfully the appointment went well, the man (who’s name was Dr. Martins) could see nothing wrong with her, she seemed to have a lot of energy and would need some definite exercise, she was about two years old. Nothing out of the ordinary, because the files the lady at the shelter had provided didn’t have a list of shots, he gave her a rabies shot, along with her distemper, parvo, and adenovirus shots. Then, he billed them for it and sent them on their way.

“I’m glad she was in good health.” Logan commented as they went back out and got into the car.

“Yeah so am I.” Roman started the car. “I guess on to Walmart we go, then we’ll make a call to the service training facility.”

“There’s one in town?” Logan couldn’t recall any mentions of that place in town, and if there was he didn’t remember it.

“No, but the closest city has one, and it has really good reviews. I assume they’ll train Stella very well.”

“I presume I will be making the call.” He raised his eyebrow, turning to face him.

“It’d be best yeah.” He paused to navigate a turn. “She’s your dog.”

“Roman, she may have been meant for me but she’s all of ours dog.” He reached back, seeking out her head so he could pet her. He could hear her tail hitting the seat and the car panel.

Finally, he felt her under his hand, and gave her head a warm pat. “Can you get the number pulled up then so that I can dial and you can drive?”

Roman handed him the phone after a couple minutes, and he could hear it ringing. He held it up to his ear; just as someone on the other line picked up.

“Hello, this is Crystal, how can I help you?”

“Hello, my name is Logan Hollow.” He paused to consider what to say. “I would like to talk with someone about setting up a consultation or a time when I can talk to someone about training a service dog.”

There was a pause, like someone was writing something out, or maybe checking something. “We’ve got a lot going on today but tomorrow might be a good time to come in and we can meet you, meet your dog.”

“That should work out,” He paused again, not entirely sure what he can say. “Thank you.”

“We have nine in the morning and noon open if you’d like to pick a time.”

“Noon should work.” He knew how his boyfriend’s were about waking up. “Alrighty.” There was a pause as the woman entered that into the computer. “Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow at noon Logan.”

“Okay, thank you.” There was a beep as the woman hung up, just as Roman pulled into the parking of Walmart.

“Do you want to come in with me? Or stay here with Stella while I get all the things?”

“I’ll go in, we can crack a window for Stella.” He didn’t want to say it, but Roman tended to be forgetful, so it wouldn’t surprise him if he forgot something important while they were shopping.

“Okay, should I leave the car on then?” He paused before turning the key.

“No, I believe that if we roll the window down she should be okay.” He reached back and hit the button.

He finished rolling it down a little bit and opened his door, allowing Roman to turn off the car and get out. They walked into Walmart, Roman’s hand on his wrist to guide him inside and make sure he didn't get hurt. As soon as they were inside, Roman grabbed a cart and they assumed their usual positions; Logan resting against the handle of the cart while Roman stood near the front with his hands on the cart, guiding it around.

“Where to first?” Roman said it as quietly as he could, stepping closer to Logan as he spoke.

“The pet aisle. We need to get bowls, food, toys, treats, probably a harness, pet bags just in case. A bed or somewhere she can sleep.” He paused his movements. “Which means, no dogs on the furniture.” He meant it, he knew how the rest of them were about their love for animals, and he could already hear the disagreement that him and Patton would get into over whether or not Stella is allowed on the furniture.

Roman led him over to the aisle. “What all should I grab?”

“Metal bowls, treats, a leash and harness, color doesn’t matter. If they have pig ears as a treat grab a few of those too.” He paused to think about where everything would be in Walmart.

“Are the dog beds and kennels in this area?”

“Yeah, do you want me to get the big ones?” Even after he asked it he felt like he asked something stupid.

“Of course Roman, those would work best.” HIs tone was sort of flat, no judgement or confusion, just a simple statement.

Roman grunted as he set down the dog kennel in the cart, settling other stuff on top of it. He had grabbed everything that Logan told him to, except for the pig ears because there weren’t any but he did find a bone instead that looked alright. He had grabbed a red harness and red leash (his favorite color) as well as two metal bowls and some green bags should they be needed. He looked down the aisle but couldn’t see any dog food.

“Uh Logan, what about dog food?”

“Try the next aisle over.”

He went over, dragging the cart and Logan with. As soon as they were over there, he saw that the entire aisle was full of different animal foods.

“What kind do we want for Stella?” There were a lot of options and he felt a little overwhelmed.

“Purina dog chow should work, a rather large bag so that it lasts for a while.” He paused to think about what size. “Maybe like a twenty six pound bag. Let me know if you require assistance.”

“No, I got it.” There was the sound of someone straining to pick something up, and then a thump as he set the bag down in the cart.

“That should be all we need, Patton didn’t send us with a shopping list and I believe that you grabbed everything we need for Stella.”

They went to the front of the store and Logan paid for all of the stuff, helping Roman load it into the trunk. Stella was doing fine, in fact, when they got in the car, she was asleep in the back.

They went home, opening the door to let Stella out to go to the bathroom. As soon as she was done, she trotted to the door, and waited for them to let her in. When they did, they smelled the smell of Patton cooking something,

Virgil got up off the couch as soon as he saw the door open and helped to get all of the bags. AS soon as they were all inside, Virgil set up the dog kennel in their bedroom, setting the dog bed inside of the kennel. He put the bowls in the kitchen and put the bag of food in the pantry; just as Patton finished cooking.

He dished everything up and called them all to the table, kenneling up Stella so she wouldn’t come beg at the table. Dinner was a casual affair, and afterwards, they each went their own separate ways to their bedrooms to spend some time just by themselves doing their own preferred things.

Roman was just lounging around as Patton played with his hair; Logan was listening to an audiobook, with Virgil right next to him listening to music, the only person who was being active was Dallas, who was playing with trucks on the floor. They had moved Stella’s bed out to the floor so that she could be a part of the family happenings.

They just hung out and relaxed for hours, before they all retired at different times. First Logan, who was leading Dallas with him so that he could get some sleep, then Virgil with Stella in tow. Finally, an hour or so later, Roman and Patton went to bed, tucking themselves in around D. Just before falling asleep Roman had one thought; Tomorrow is the beginning of a new chapter.

[bagels-and-seagulls]

can we get some davenzi angst

how about some angst and a future fic? bc it’s all i can think of right now

David dialed Matteo while he was cleaning off the counter. He hadn’t made anything super fantastic for dinner, just rice and vegetables, since it was all he really could cook without Matteo or Laura watching over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t screw anything up, but somehow Matilda and him still managed to get what looked like half the box on the floor and all over the counter. The phone rang two times where it was in between his shoulder and his ear before it connected with a shriek on the other side. 

“Daddy!” Sofia squealed, and David had to quickly take the phone away from his ear in fear of permanent hearing loss in his right ear. His daughter had always managed to hit decibels he never thought possible. He tried to crack his neck. 

“Hey, sweetie. How are you?” He asked and leaned back against he counter, crossing his ankles. 

“Good! We’re having so much fun, Daddy! We went to this museum thing, and Papa showed us all of this old stuff. That wasn’t too fun, but then we went to the lake for Great-Grandma’s party, and that was, like, super fun! Great-Grandma gave us these little candies wrapped in wax paper and played with us until Grandpa told her to stop,” she rambled. 

“Did you get to go swimming?” David asked as he started to pace around the kitchen. 

“Nooooo,” she whined. “Grandpa said that that’s not a lake you’re supposed to swim in, but when he wasn’t looking, Papa let us dip our toes in. So you’re not supposed to tell him that.” 

“I won’t tell,” David laughed. 

“Micha, stop poking meeee. I’m talking to Daddy,” Sofia said loudly, and David pulled the phone away from his ear again, already forgetting his mistake from last time.

“Does Michael want to talk to me?” David asked. 

“He says yes.”

“You can put it on speaker. Get Papa to do it.” 

There was some shuffling and a couple of low murmurs that he couldn’t really hear, before he heard his son go, “Daddy!” very similar to the way his sister had done a minute before. At least this time, someone was holding the phone away from their mouths, so it was bearable. 

“Hey, pumpkin,” David greeted and couldn’t but help to smile. He didn’t realize how much he missed them until he was putting Matilda to bed and walking down the quiet and empty house, wondering when everyone was coming back. Whatever the answer was, he knew it was going to be too long. “Sofia was just telling me what you did today.” 

“Oh! We went to go look at some statues that are supposed to be really important, and it was super cool because they were huge and, like, so detailed and stuff. And then we went to meet all the cousins with Papa and Grandpa at the lake, and that was cool, too. Great-Grandma was really nice and told stories to Papa and then Papa told us,” Michael rambled off a similar story. 

“Did you like all the cousins?” David asked, pushing his toe into the ground. He had been worried about this trip since Matteo brought it up, a family reunion in Italy for his grandmother’s birthday. David didn’t know if going was too good of an idea. Matteo hadn’t gotten along with that side of the family for a while, longer than he probably understood. His father hasn’t even come up to visit them since Matilda was born, not that David bothered too much. He was a cold man, Matteo’s father. But David knew how important Matteo’s grandmother was to him, and he knew that he would be crushed to not see her. And he also knew that she had been hounding him about meeting her great-grandchildren. 

“I mean, I guess. They couldn’t understand us,” Michael said, and David imagined that he was shrugging. It was better than nothing, David supposed. 

“They kept saying the same thing over and over again,” Sofia added. 

“What’d they say?” David asked, not really believing that.

“I don’t speak Italian, Daddy,” Sofia whined. “You know that.” 

“Then how do you know they were saying the same thing?” David teased. 

“Yeah,” Michael added, and David just shook his head, trying to hold back a little laugh. 

“Time for bed,” David heard a little muffled. Matteo must have been on the other side of the room. He sounded just far enough away for David to get a taste, but not too clearly to satisfy, like a dream almost. 

“Papaaaa,” Michael drug out. 

“We just started talking to Daddy,” Sofia said, most likely with a pout. 

“Yeah,” Michael repeated. 

He heard a couple sounds, and David started wiping a towel over the counter just for something to do while he was waiting to see how this played out. He already knew who was going to win, but he was still interested. “We can call him again in the morning, but it’s time for bed now.” 

There was some vague whining noises where he’s sure the twins were pulling off the best puppy dog eyes that haven’t worked since they were toddlers before Matteo said, “None of that. Off you two go.” There was some more muffling. “I’ll be right back,” Matteo said, and it sounded like he wasn’t on speaker anymore. 

“Alright,” David said with a little nod, not that Matteo could see it. 

He waited for a minute or two while he was rearranging the papers on the fridge, some of Michael’s drawings, a picture of Sofia from her last gymnastics meet, one of Matilda’s school reports that she insisted they put up because it had a sticker of a ladybug on it, a picture of Matteo and David from their wedding day, looking sharp in complimentary suits and holding hands while both of them pretended like they weren’t crying. 

“Hey,” he heard. 

“Na?” 

“Na,” Matteo sighed. 

“How’d it go today? You went to a museum?” David asked. 

“Yeah, an art thing, just to kill some time before meeting the family.” 

“Was it fun?” 

“It was alright,” Matteo said simply and didn’t elaborate, not like the kids. He sounded tired, David thought, and not the kind of tired he usually got corralling the twins by himself all day. That one David could tell right away, and he would usually laugh, and kiss Matteo’s nose, and tell him that at least they’ll be asleep by ten. No, he sounded like the tired that was down to the bones and then a little bit further, one that was saying a hundred different things at once and none of them good, the tired you couldn’t really get rid of with sleep. 

“Everything okay?” David asked a little quietly. 

“Yeah,” Matteo responded quickly. “Yeah,” he repeated a little smaller after a minute. “I just miss you. And Matilda.”

“We miss you, too. All you guys. The house is too quiet.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” David asked, not wanting to push, but not convinced that this was just a little thing like missing home. 

“It’s just,” Matteo stopped himself, and David could hear the way he was swallowing something down. Something heavy sunk into his gut, and he sat down on the kitchen floor, knowing where this could be headed, and not liking it already. “I just don’t know why I bother trying,” Matteo said through his teeth, and David imagined him pulling at his hair, and scrubbing at his face, and trying to pretend like the world wasn’t getting to him even though it was and did and will forever. 

“What happened, baby?” David took a deep breath to prepare himself. He already disliked most everything about Matteo’s father, knew it from the first time they were still kids and trying to figure life out, when they still had things like school to worry about and social status and how to pay for alcohol, and Matteo told him out on the balcony with a joint in his lips that his dad had run off without a second thought, and good riddance, too. Matteo didn’t need that prick. Not one bit, he said. Somehow David knew that he was going to really start hating him by the end of this conversation, if it was possible to hate him more than when Matteo called him to tell him that Matilda was coming home with them, swaddled in Matteo’s mama’s arms, and Matteo’s father told him he would call him back. And then didn’t. 

“Just-” And Matteo cut himself off with a heaping breath, and David wished more than anything to be there right now, to hold his face in between his hands and tell him that he would protect him from the rest of the world if he would just let him, to squeeze him tight until all the sadness drifted out of him like smoke. He curled an arm around himself in consolation. 

“They were so mean,” Matteo said with a sob. He sniffled, and David gripped onto the side of his shirt hard, his nails digging into his palm on the other side. “They were saying all these things behind my back, all of them, about my kids. My kids, David,” he heard Matteo sniffled hard. “And Sofia and Michael didn’t even know because how could they. They just wanted to play with the others. And they were just so cruel. To children. My children.”

“What did they say?” David asked through gritted teeth. He tipped his head back to push the crown of his skull into the cabinets behind him. 

“That they didn’t look like me, weren’t ours. That they were going to frow up messed up. That they weren’t really family. That they were adopted by a couple of-” Matteo stopped. He sniffled again and then swallowed hard enough for David to hear. “And the kids were looking at Sofia and Michael and said that they didn’t want to play with them and just repeated back all the shit their parents were saying.” 

David was mad as fire. No- madder than fire, he was a volcano ready to erupt, a pittbull with rabies and a t-bone on the mind who had been locked up a little too long for his own good, a tsunami that has been pulling back from the shore for hours now, wanting to see the sea floor to rise. He was ready to get in a car and drive all night and all day if he had to to go give these people a piece of his mind, tell them to fuck off, that they were ignorant bigots who had nothing better to do than pick on people who were blissfully unaware. With the sound of Matteo quietly crying to himself half a continent away, away from where David would comfort him and tell him he didn’t need those bastards anyways, and trying to pretend like everything was fine because the walls were thin and the kids could understand this conversation just fine, David finally figured out how mad you had to be to contemplate murder. 

“What did your dad do?” He asked. 

Matteo huffed a breath. “Nothing, just stood there.” 

“I’m coming,” David said suddenly and picked himself off the floor, fully convinced to find his suitcase and start shoving his clothes into it, anything really, already thinking of how to pay back Laura for watching Matilda for the rest of the weekend. 

“No, David. Don’t,” Matteo said quickly. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he responded. 

“It’s not worth it.” 

“The fuck it isn’t!” David yelled and then pinched the bridge of his nose to remind himself that Matilda was sleeping. “They have not fucking right to talk about them that way, talk about us that way. If they have a problem, they should say it to my fucking face.”

“David,” Matteo chocked out. “I just want to come home.” 

“Baby,” David said, calming down. “Just- get on the first train tomorrow, or a plane, or a bus. I don’t care. I’ll come pick you up if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t want the kids to think something’s wrong.” 

“Something is wrong.” 

“They don’t know that,” Matteo said. “You heard them. They had a blast.” 

David sighed. “Then cut it short. Don’t come tomorrow, but the next day. Say Matilda got sick, or that something came up and I had to go out of town and you have to watch the kids.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll look for flights.” 

Matteo sighed. “Okay.” 

David scrubbed at his face. “I’m sorry this happened, sweetheart. You don’t deserve it.” 

“Whatever,” Matteo mumbled. “Grandma loved them. Said they were her favorites.” 

“Did she?” David asked, trying to see a bright side after his vision just went black and white. 

“Yeah, right in front of my cousins. Said they were the cutest and most well behaved kids she’s ever seen. She asked for a picture of the family.” 

[crafiet]

1-50 OC questionnaire !!

ill use ary

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?anyone else paranoid about people stealing their unpublished work or ideas or name bc me. her name is ary and i found it from a generator [lmao so original] and i thought it was cute. her last name is like pretty standard for fantasy and it inspired me to have everyone elses last names in a similar vibe2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?WELL lmao shes had a lot. prisoner #22876, the wraith, princess ary. ive scrapped all except the prisoner one and u can guess how she got it3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? she was raised among royals and nobles so she has a lot of good memories with her parents and other kids her age running around doing dumb shit. most of her bad memories happen once she becomes a teenager4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? she has an overwhelming love for her parents, she idolizes them heavily and is grateful for how much they taught her. a good memory is probably them teaching her how to use magic for the first time and she being unable to control it and almost burning her eyebrows off lmao5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?no siblings6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?tbh i havent thought much about their education system as young kids, since its not really relevant and i dont tend to worldbuild stuff that never shows up. however she did attend an academy specifically for her magic caste and she had a fun time up until some shit went down and she deserted. shes pretty competitive and liked versing her friends7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? she was one of those weird kids who preferred hanging out with her parents over everybody else. so she had one good friend in the academy whos still her friend today, but otherwise she would race home and annoy her mum lol8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? no pets. she has a soft spot for horses though, because she has had so many in her “career”9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? horses like her, i guess they can sense shes good with them. at one point in the novel she sees some jackals and is afraid of them so shes probably not a dog person10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?she doesnt have anything against kids, but shes not very good with them, shes never been one for baby talk or dumbing herself down. in one draft she takes care of some adolescents and lets cyri take over bc he loves kids lol11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?nahh12. What is their favourite food? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh13. What is their least favourite food?uhHHHHHH14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?man idk, its not like my characters arent well rounded realistic people but im not gonna know her favourite fucking colour bc it doesnt matter in the story lmao15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?i would say shes ok, she doesnt burn anything but shes not a gourmet chef [despite having lessons as a child]16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? ohh i used to have an answer for this but she probably doesnt now just bc shes pretty nomadic and usually only has the clothes on her back lmao17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?cameras dont exist in her world my dudee. but if she lived in modern day which ive thought of, shed be the type to take a bunch of pics of her friends and stuff she likes bc she likes having the memory in a solid form, her actual memory is shit lol18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything elsehmm i suppose shed be a horror fan, and shed love making fun of stupid characters19. What’s their least favourite genres?man idk. romance? shes kinda #2edgy4me20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?hmm i think shes more a soft music fan, just something idly playing in the background. ex. a bard playing something for the crowd while she kicks back w friends21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?she has a short temper. shes easily triggered with any emotion so shes quick to argue or whatever22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?id like to think shes witty, and she always says stuff to peoples faces bc a bitch has rabies and wants to fight apparently23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?bad memory, shes gone through physical torture and isolation [wew] so. shes better at names, growing up with royals she got to learn a bunch of family names etc24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?a light sleeper. crazy light. and she can sleep anywhere, so she has no problems sleeping on the ground unlike others25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?she pretends to be stoic but when u get to know her her humour’s pretty lame, shell laugh at anything if just to make u feel better26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? she tends to hide them under an indifferent mask27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?despite being able to hide her emotions, she does succumb to fear a lot and cries openly, but will continue to do whatever shes doing through tears so shes scary in that regard28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?abandonment is a huge one. shes not a fan of predatory animals. shes brave though, and will do whatevers necessary, kinda like unwilling exposure therapy lol29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? she doesnt like exploiting people so shell never use someones fear against them. for friends, shell protect them and warn them if something like that is gonna happen30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?lmao she walks or goes horse riding everywhere and is severely malnourished31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?i just wrote a scene like this!! shes louder in general, laughs more. her guard comes down more and more with every drink. she can hold her liquor pretty well but when shes blacked out shes pretty much useless32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?she prefers comfort and mobility over everything else. she tends to dress pretty masculine, and never does anything with her hair. does she know what a brush is?33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?...................ask her lol idk. probably just basic comfy ones34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?she is 5′9. when shes healthy, she has a willowy figure but more on the boxy side than curvy. she doesnt really attribute much to her body [imagine living life without dysmorphia mfg]35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? i dont she counts anything as a ‘guilty’ pleasure. she just enjoys what she enjoys, fuck whatever people think36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?she loves fishing! she used to do it a lot with her dad. i dont think shes a particularly good singer37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?yeah she likes reading. she reads pretty fast and prefers nonfiction. she thinks poetry can get too pretentious lmao38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?#deep but i think she admires kindness and care in others. she wishes she was a better person at times and wants to be able to express how much people meant to her39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? lmao letters are the only thing in her world. if she lived w us shed probably be all about texting 600 in a row and then calling when u dont reply “what do u mean you cant answer. its called INSTANT messaging for a reason!!”40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?she stays awake through sheer willpower shes a beast41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?shes bi/pan. not really a thing about labels in her world. she loves long hair and soft personalities42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?plot spoilers!!43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?shes not religious. there is a heavy theme of religion in the novel [which i need to write better in the second draft] but she was kinda skeptical as a child and probably lost faith entirely after she went through some harrowing stuff 44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? winter. she prefers the cold and hates heat45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? i think people see her as scarier than she is. shes a formidable opponent and does not give a fuck what you say, but her reputation precedes her a little bit, a lot of things she did out of fear or force are seen as ‘badass’ and ‘brave’46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?shes a compulsive liar, and a good one at that. so she tends to show herself differently to almost everyone she meets, but usually its a false potrayal47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?ugh she haaaaaates formal stuff and parties. she grew up royal and had to suffer through many a dinner and gathering. at this point in her life youd never get her in a dress that impeded her movement. shes ok with dresses but really big poofy ones she refuses to wear48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? in our world shed be one for a chill house party. show up with a case of beer, sit outside by the barbie, listen to music and talk shit. shes not good at organising so she doesnt tend to host, and if she were dragged by a friend itd probably be to a formal event or with people she didnt know so shed just sulk in the corner49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?she abandoned her material possessions before the story a. bc she was forced and b. they bring back way too many painful memories50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? food, change of clothes, weapons. thats about it. she tries not to be super nasty and find an inn to shower and stuff but shes also poor af

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

Name Games

Inspired by this amazing post by @andrews-nothing.  Neil’s cat is sick, so he brings her to the vet.  A meet-sort-of-cute ensues.  Read on AO3 if you prefer. 

The waiting room was a cacophony of nonverbal vocalization, barks and plaintive meows and the insistent screaming of some sort of parrot.  Neil sat in the corner where he could see the whole room, working to keep his hands still in his lap.  People in scrubs bustled in and out, sometimes taking a pet, sometimes delivering one, or guiding a human-and-animal through the door that led to the exam rooms.  He had long given up on concentrating on his phone with all the noise and movement.

Only one other person was as still as he was, a short blond man with a blank face and sharp eyes that watched everything.  There was something about his body language that had shoved him immediately into the threat category, though Neil had not heard him say a word.  He didn’t even know why he was there; he had been there when Neil had appeared a half hour ago and handed King off in her carrier to one of the technicians along with answers to a long list of questions.  As far as he could tell, the man hadn’t moved once aside from an occasional blink and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

There was a brief burst of excitement in the form of the parrot in its cage being carried toward the treatment screaming “Help!  Help!  I’m innocent!” while its mortified family followed.  The blond man’s face didn’t change as he stared after them.

A bouncing golden retriever on a flexi-lead zoomed over to the blond man and dropped his bedraggled stuffed toy into his lap then waited, wagging excitedly.  The dog’s family began apologizing profusely and reeled the struggling dog in, scolding him.  As soon as they turned their backs the dog bounded back to his toy.  Neil watched through his eyelashes as the man glanced around, then handed the toy back with a quick ear rub before going back to his impassive facade.  The dog sighed and rested his drooly chin on the man’s knee, and Neil bit back his grin.

The door swung open and a dozen pairs of eyes looked towards it in unison as an irritated tall man in scrubs entered.  “Will the owner of, um,” he looked down at his empty hands as if he expected the information to be there, then back up at the expectant room, “the cat with the stupid name please come with me?  Your cat just mauled the doctor.”

Neil sighed and got to his feet.  King was usually a sweetheart, but she hated having her feet touched.  He probably should have warned them but he hadn’t thought about it.  It was with some surprise he realized the blond man had joined him in front of the vet assistant.  The assistant, Kevin according to his name tag, looked between them.  “Okay, come with me.”  

They were shown into an exam room and then Kevin the surly assistant left.  There was only one chair and the blond guy took it, which was fine.

“What’s your cat’s name?” Neil asked after several minutes of silence.

He didn’t expect to get an answer, not with the look of disdain he received, but after a long pause an unexpectedly pleasant voice answered, “Sir Fat Cat McCatterson.”

Neil laughed.  “Okay, I know why you think it’s your cat, then.”  He waited but got no response.  “Mine is King Fluffkins,” he offered.  It only seemed fair to share.

“I don’t care.”

“She was peeing blood in my sink.”  Nothing.  “I’ve only had her for a month.”  Still nothing.  Neil didn’t usually talk much to strangers; he didn’t know why he felt the urge to keep talking.  Maybe it was the secret kindness this man had shown the dog out in the waiting room.  Or maybe it was the way the hazel eyes stayed locked on his face, but not on his scars.  “My friend gave her to me, he said I shouldn’t be alone so much.  He named her, too.”  He smiled a little at the memory of Nicky appearing at his door with a screaming cat in a carrier and a mountain of supplies.

“I’ve lived with people for years and not learned this much about them.”

Neil’s retort was cut off by the entrance of a large snarling gray-and-white ball of fury being held by a heavy-glove-wearing Kevin.  The cat was deposited unceremoniously on the examining table and whirled, lightning quick, to swat out, claws snagging in Kevin’s gloves for a second before Kevin yanked free.  The cat hissed and Kevin drew himself up, looming over the table.  The two glared at each other, unblinking, until the door opened again.

A woman with short dark curly hair and fresh bandages on her arms entered, a strained smile on her face.  “Mr. Minyard?” she asked, looking between the two of them.  The blond man stood up and she held her hand out towards him, carefully out of reach of the enormous cat who had crouched down on the table and was emitting ominous growls.  “I’m Dr. Wilds.”  The man didn’t shake her hand but nodded again.  “Well, we got the piece of bone out of his mouth, he should be much more comfortable now.”  Another nod.  “He was fine while I removed the bone, but attacked me afterwards.  I guess he took exception to me touching his tail.  Is he current on his rabies vaccine?”

The man—Minyard—just said, “Yes,” with no apology or hint of guilt.  The assistant bristled at him but Dr. Wilds just went on.

“And he needs to go on a diet, he’s at risk for diabetes right now.  I’ve written down a feeding program for him to help.”

Minyard took the paper she was holding out and barely glanced at it.  The doctor continued to review some things that Minyard gave no indication he was listening to, and concluded with a small laugh, “and don’t feed him bones.”

Minyard gave another slight nod.  The vet gave a small, involuntary shrug and turned towards the door.  “Wait,” Neil said, “do you have an update on my cat?”

Confusion flickered across her face.  “You’re not with Mr. Minyard?”  Neil shook his head.  “Then why are you in here?”

“Your assistant said the cat with the stupid name,” Neil shrugged.  “Mine qualified.”

Dr. Wilds glared at Kevin who didn’t seem to care.  “What is your cat’s name?”

“King Fluffkins.”  

Kevin rolled his eyes and muttered, “Idiots” under his breath, earning himself another glare.

“Oh, yes, what a sweetheart.  I’m running a urine test on her right now, I should have the results soon.”  

The vet left with her assistant, and Sir Fat Cat McCatterson stopped growling like a switch had been shut off.   He gave Neil a suspicious glare but appeared to decide he wasn’t a threat, turning to face Minyard and rising up on his hind legs to bop his human on the chin with his head.  “You worthless piece of shit,” Minyard murmured, but his hand came up to stroke the cat’s cheeks gently, eliciting a frenzy of purring nearly as loud as the growling had been previously.

“He attacked the wrong person,” Neil said with a grin.  “He should’ve gone after the assistant instead of the vet.”

There was a glimmer in the man’s hazel eyes that might have been amusement.  He shifted to rubbing under the cat’s chin, and Sir Fat Cat closed his eyes in bliss.

Neil wasn’t sure why Minyard was still there, since his cat had been returned.  “What do we do now?”

“We wait.”  Neil’s confusion must have been evident, because Minyard gave a long-suffering sigh.  “I am not taking him out of here without his carrier, and presumably you want to learn why your cat is peeing in your sink.”

“Right.”  Neil started looking at the various posters that were on the walls about assorted different diseases.  The one behind his head was a Body Condition Chart, with silhouettes of cats ranging from a skeleton with skin at 1 to one that looked like a bowling ball with ears at 9.  Neil glanced back at Sir Fat Cat.  “I think he’s about an eight.”

Minyard glared at him.  “He used to be a nine.  I’ve had him on a diet since I got him.”

Dr. Wilds entered again.  Her forehead furrowed as she looked at Minyard.  “Is there something you need?”

“My carrier would be nice.”

“True.”  She stuck her head through the door and said something to someone in the hall, then turned to Neil.  “Well, Mr. Josten, it looks like King Fluffkins has a urinary tract infection.  I’m going to dispense ten days of antibiotics, she’ll need to take one pill a day, and I want you to put her on an all canned diet if she’ll eat it.  A high moisture diet makes them less likely to have bladder problems.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

“And we need to see her back in two weeks to check another urine sample, we need to make sure she clears the infection.”  She talked for a moment more, until a thumping sound against the door made her pause.  Kevin entered with two carriers and Dr. Wilds excused herself.  

King’s carrier was shoved into Neil’s arms and he turned it so she faced him.  “I’m sorry, baby,” he cooed at her, sticking his fingers through the door so she could rub on them.  “We’re going to make you better.”  

He looked up and saw the other two men staring at him.  “What?”

Kevin shook his head while Minyard plopped the carrier in front of his cat and opened the door.  Sir Fat Cat looked into the opening, then back at Minyard.  “You want to stay here with these assholes or go home and watch TV?”  Lashing his tail, Sir Fat Cat marched into the carrier and Minyard shut the door behind him.

Neil thanked Kevin, who responded with, “Why did you name her King?  She’s a tortoiseshell, she’s obviously female, she should be Queen Fluffkins.”

“Why do you think the cat subscribes to human gender constructs?” Neil asked, setting the carrier down and crossing his arms.

Kevin rolled his eyes.  “Whatever.”

“It’s a valid question,” Minyard said, a razor’s edge to his voice.  “Why should they conform to your notions of gender?”

“We don’t even know if King identifies as female,” Neil said.  “We may be insulting King by using the wrong pronoun and not even know it.”

“Not to mention, ‘queen’ is the generic term for a female cat.  Perhaps they would resent the idea of being named the cat equivalent of ‘bitch’.”  There was a small twitch at the corner of Minyard’s mouth as he finished that Neil would have sworn was a smile.

“Oh my god, forget I ever said anything,” Kevin said, gesturing the two of them out into the hall.  “Follow me, I’ll check you out.”  He tapped a few things into the computer and then frowned at the screen.  He looked up at them, then back at the screen and clicked the mouse.  “Uh…Okay.  Mr. Minyard.”  He read out his total and accepted the card he was handed.  After Minyard had signed, he picked up his carrier and turned to Neil with a sarcastic two-finger salute before disappearing through the door.

Kevin turned to Neil and gave him his total, still looking baffled.  “What?” Neil asked as he handed him his card.  

“You guys have separate accounts.”

“No shit,” Neil said; evidently it was his turn to be confused.  

Kevin took in his expression and shook his head.  “Never mind.”  

Neil signed and took his card back, snagged one of the business cards sitting next to the checkout and jotted something down on it, then gathered up his paperwork and his carrier and shoved his way outside.  The parking lot was full of cars but devoid of people, except for Minyard, who was standing next to Neil’s car smoking.  He stepped aside so Neil could put King in the passenger seat.  When Neil turned to go around to the driver’s side, he found himself blocked by Minyard’s back.  “Why are you still here?”

“I’m not going to expose the cat to second hand smoke he can’t get away from,” Minyard said over his shoulder, as if it was obvious.  Neil was sort of trapped, and he leaned against his car and waited.

“That was kind of fun,” he said after a minute.

Minyard ground out his cigarette and turned to face him.  “You need help if that’s your definition of fun.”

Neil shrugged.  “I don’t know, I kind of enjoyed ragging on that assistant.”

“Like I said.”

“Is that some sort of invitation?” Neil challenged.

Minyard stepped closer.  “No.”  He waited just a breath too long then got into his fancy car and started it.  Neil grinned at him, returning his two-fingered salute as he backed out of the space.  

Neil’s phone dinged as he pulled into his parking spot.  how tf did u get that card in my pocket

I’ve got skills

ur an idiot

what’s your name

andrew

Neil

thats what the card said

There were three dots indicated another text was coming.  Neil got out of his car and fished a mournful King out.  He had just reached the stairs when the next text came through.  wanna get a drink

I don’t really drink

a coffee then

Sure

A time and the address of a coffee shop followed; it was only a couple of blocks away.  Neil gave King her first pill with only a moderate amount of difficulty, then petted her until she was purring and kneading on his lap.  He smiled a little as he looked down at her, then around the apartment, sparse except for the cat tower, scratching posts, beds, and toys.  Maybe Nicky was right about the benefits of cat ownership after all.

[thedragonprincess]

Lost: Black Dog

Remus had put up the flyers 3 days ago.  To be honest, it was a last-ditch, desperate effort to find his friend.  It wasn’t unusual for Sirius to be gone for a few days at a time, but he had been missing for over 2 weeks.  He and James had already filed a Missing Wizards report with the Ministry, but the Ministry official had muttered it was the 13th report he’d taken just that morning.  It just wasn’t all that uncommon for a wizard to go missing these days.  

It was Lily’s idea to make the flyers.  James privately told Remus that he didn’t think it would work, that Lily’s “pregnancy brain” wasn’t letting her think clearly.  “We’ve been Animagi for years, mate,” he had said.  “Getting ‘stuck’ is a rookie mistake.  You know I’m just as worried as you are, but I don’t think Padfoot is just ‘stuck.’  I want him to be okay, mate, you know, but let’s not get our hopes up here…”

Remus almost didn’t make the flyers; it was Wormtail who encouraged him.  “It c-c-cant hurt, Moony...m-m-maybe he is just stuck. M-m-maybe the muggles have s-s-seen him?”  

Maybe the muggles have seen him.  So, Remus scrawled, as neatly as he could, across the top of a piece of parchment:

LOST DOG Very large (50 kilos) black dog.  Mutt. Answers to “Padfoot” Last seen June 12 If found, please call RJ Wolfe.

Under these words, he printed the phone number for the pay phone outside the Leaky Cauldron, and asked Tom to get in touch if anyone called asking for an “RJ Wolfe.”  He couldn’t, of course, put his real name on these.  Just because he was posting them in muggle London didn’t mean a Death Eater wouldn’t see them.  He didn’t want to potentially compromise Sirius’s perfect disguise.

Lily was kind enough to sketch a realistic drawing of Padfoot (they had never thought to take any photos of their Animagus forms), and Remus took the parchment to a copy shop in London.  Armed with a muggle staple gun, Remus posted about 100 flyers a short while later.

Now, he stood outside a cookie-cutter house in Surrey, double checking the address Tom had written down for him.  Mr. and Mrs. Davies had apparently found Padfoot about a week ago, and were thus far unable to track down an owner.  They were happy to keep him, in fact, but Mr. Davies had seen the flyer when he had been in London on business yesterday.  He couldn’t bear to keep such a sweet dog away from an owner who was surely missing him.  Mr. Davies did ask, however, that when Mr. Wolfe came to claim Padfoot, he bring some proof of ownership.

It had taken Lily, James, Peter, and Remus all night to think up some “proof of ownership” that a muggle would believe.  Finally, James forged a rabies vaccination certificate and Peter had managed to find an old photo of Padfoot from a few summers ago.  As it was a moving photo, Lily had to charm it to stay frozen, at least for awhile.  Remus thought to stop at a muggle pet shop for a leash and collar before he went to Surrey, and stopped to rub the collar in the dirt a bit so it looked worn.  The story was that Padfoot had slipped his collar one day and taken off.  

Ding dong.

A man of about 40 years answered the door.  He was tall, lanky, and his hair was thinning and greying.  His eyes, though wrinkled at the corners, were quite kind. Remus began, in his rehearsed lines, “Hello, I am RJ Wolfe.  I got a message that you’ve found my dog?”

“Oh! Mr. Wolfe, of course!  Yes, come in, come in.”  He stood back and ushered Remus into the house.  “Honey, Mr. Wolfe is here!”  

Mrs. Davies came out of the kitchen.  She was a small, slight woman with honey brown hair and bright blue eyes.  Her smile was genuine. “Oh hello dear. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Oh, no thank you, ma’am.  I don’t want to impose any more than my dog already has.” Remus smiled.  He knew these people had been taking care of Sirius for a week already; he didn’t need to take advantage of their kindness any further.

“Right, well, Padfoot, is it?” Remus nodded. “He’s just through here.”  Mr. Davies showed Remus through to the living room, where Sirius was barricaded in with a baby gate.  Remus took one look at him, and knew for a fact it was indeed Sirius.  Was he actually stuck?  No matter, the point was that now he’s been found.  Remus was certain that Lily, James, Peter and he could figure out how to put him right again.  First though, he had to get him home.  

“Padfoot! C’mere boy!”  Remus put on his best dog-owner voice, patting his knees to call Sirius over to him.  But Sirius just looked at him.  “Padfoot! Buddy!”  Sirius cocked his head from side to side.  

C’mon Sirius. Now is not the time.  Honestly.  What was wrong with him?

“Er, I mentioned to the gentleman on the phone...er...if you could bring proof of ownership.  We don’t want him going to just anyone, you see…”  Mr. Davies clearly looked uncomfortable asking, but Remus could tell he was a good hearted man, and he just wanted to make sure this dog got back to his rightful owners.  

“Of course, sir, right here…” Remus pulled out the rabies certificate and the photo out of his back pocket.  Mr. Davies looked them over.  

“Well...everything seems to be in order here… Funny though your dog doesn’t seem too excited to see you.  How long have you had him?”

Remus thought quickly on the spot.  “He’s a rescue...bit of a special case, really.  He was badly beaten by his former owners.” Remus glared at Sirius, to let him know he would be badly beaten if he didn’t get his act together and come home with him just now.  “I’ve only had him a short while.”

“Well, perhaps that explains it then.  Poor pup isn’t sure where he’s meant to be!”  Mr. Davies stepped over the baby gate.  “C’mere boy!”  Sirius bounded across the living room and rolled over at Mr. Davies’ feet.  The man leaned down and rubbed Sirius’s belly.  

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind...I was just making him a snack when you arrived...do you mind if he eats before you go?”  Mrs. Davies had brought a plate through to the living room with 3 slices of bacon on it.  

“Er...no, go ahead,” Remus replied, astonished.  Sirius had leaped up and sat at the baby gate, his tail wagging so fast Remus thought it might fall off.  He watched as Mrs. Davies giggled and fed Sirius the strips of bacon, one by one.

Remus shook his head.  No wonder Sirius had been staying here.  These people clearly adored him.  “Alright, Padfoot,” Remus said when Mrs. Davies had finished.  He stepped over the gate and held out the leash and collar.  Sirius huffed, but hung his head so Remus could fasten the collar around his neck.  “Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Davies, for taking care of him.   We were worried sick, but I’m so glad he was well taken care of while he’s been gone.

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Wolfe.  In fact, I think I have my husband convinced that it’s time we get a dog of our own!”  Mrs. Davies smiled and glanced at Mr. Davies.

“Well, it was certainly a pleasure, Miriam...maybe we shall.”  Remus smiled at the couple.  If anyone deserved to have a dog, it was these people.  He hoped they found a nice, actual dog to share their love with.  

“Thanks again,” Remus said as he and Sirius walked out the front door.  He led Sirius up the sidewalk and around a corner.  “You know, Padfoot, we’ve been so worried about you...but don’t you worry, I’m sure Lily is already researching how to reverse your transformation.”  

Sirius gave an unmistakable doglike laugh.  When they had crossed into a deserted alleyway, the dog grew into a young man in an instant.  “Sirius!” Remus half-shouted. “You’re not stuck! But why— how— WE’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK!” Remus hit Sirius with the handle of the leash.

Sirius doubled over in laughter.  “Relax, mate.  I was planning to sneak out tonight after they went to bed.”  

“Why did you stay so long without contacting us?”

“Because, mate, use your nose...Mrs. Davies’s bacon is delicious!”

[shimmy-sham-with-the-fam]

Hunting X For X Bruises: Chap. 3

Prologue is here!

Previous Next

Alrighty! And here we have the next addition to the fic!

 I’m really excited to see what people think about this chapter! :) Have fun with reading!

Words: 2663

Rate: T

Summary:  An AU where the bruises and cuts of a soulmate appear on the skin. Gon becomes increasingly worried about his soulmate as he gets tattooed with new marks everyday, and hopes to find the person soon. Killua, on the other hand, has been brainwashed by his family to believe that the spots on his skin are a curse from the person who plans to target and kill him, as they believe learning about a soulmate would make him soft during jobs. 

Chapter 3: Animals X Love X Hunters

Killua tapped his finger repeatedly on the table of a cafe he lingered in close to closing time. Many of the employees, he had noticed, had been whispering amongst themselves. It seemed that it was unusual to see a child eating on his own at a restaurant, not to mention the fact that it was after dark. His server had asked him if he was waiting on someone to join him, to which he replied in subtle amusement that he was by himself. Eventually, the server sighed, took his order and left him to sip at the glass of water at his side. Killua ignored the whispers and stares. He had better thing to focus his attention on.

Killua had two major problems to figure out in less than two weeks. The hunter exam itself would be held in two weeks, and finding out how to get there was one of the two problems at hand. However, the larger and more pressing issue was applying for the exam. Since he was only twelve years old, it was required for a guardian to sign off permission, as the exam was known to be dangerous. In fact, the application even warned that in almost every exam held, at least one person lost their life during the process of the examination. If Killua would have known what going on a fieldtrip with a class was like, he definitely would have compared the rules to the simplicity of a “permission slip”. Of course, Killua had tried forging a signature, but the application was almost immediately sent back declined. The assassin child had figured that the association, with all of it’s ties and connections, had reached his family. It was probably a safe assumption that the application had fallen into his mother’s hands; who would have rejected it without a second thought. His second plan was to get someone else to act as their guardian, but he realized that this idea would have the same result as his first attempt.

The server, in all of his blond, concerned glory, appeared with a large chunk of chocolate pie with a side of vanilla ice cream. Killa’s face perked up when the food came into his sight. If there was one thing that could get him out of a miserable mood, it was chocolate.

A spoon scooped into the soft dessert, filling his mouth deliciously. There was a sensational melting taste of the chocolate in his mouth, which he savored for every second he could before wanting another bite. The boy could have admitted to anyone still lingering within the cafe that he was tasting the textbook definition of heaven.

After scarfing down half of his plate, the manager politely stepped her way over to his small corner table. “Excuse me…. Sir,” their voice fumbled at the word “sir.” Killua’s eyebrows raised with a slight grin, wondering what the woman had in her mind to tell him.

“Mmm?” he focused down on shoveling a not so large chunk of ice cream into his mouth.

“We have passed closing hours, sir. I’m afraid we must close up the restaurant for the evening.” Killua stared down at his plate, longingly. He wanted to finish his treat, but he couldn’t take it along with him. It would be a hassle to carry a box around.

“Sure, alright. Just gimme a sec,” His hand waved her off, as if to say “go away, I’m busy.” A vein seemed to have popped out visibly from the woman from his unintentional rude behavior. The poor woman, after all, just wanted to go home from a long day of work. Nonetheless, Killua ignored her standing presence and picked up his plate. In three gigantic bites, he finished the dessert and sighed out in satisfaction. “Here!” An empty plate was pushed into the woman’s hands as he stood up. He placed an inappropriate amount of extra money for the food on the table, to which the manager eyed in utter confusion.

But Killua paid no mind; it wasn’t important.

He had more pressing issues to deal with.

The city Killua had managed to fly to via aircraft seemed well accustomed to a divided line of poverty versus well off. Or rather, the “well off” was more “they could pay for necessities and still have a bit left just in case.” As he walked farther and farther away from the center, he noticed most of the buildings were not completely in ruins, but most of them were outlined in planked windows and haphazardly stacked bricks replaced old ones that had been broken away. Killua wondered if the state of the buildings were really because of the poverty line or if there was more to it. Even with the limited resources available to the people, for multiple houses to have broken brick walls seemed a bit unusual.

Killua decided that he needed to find a stable place to stay for the night. And the tenants of the shabby buildings were most likely not going to be welcoming a strange young teen into their house willingly. He’d either have to find a hotel or look for a stable alley way to spend his night. Or maybe he could find a steady tile roof to sit upon for the evening. A hotel would definitely be ideal…

An indistinguishable whine broke the boy’s train of thought. What was that? There wasn’t a person to be seen in any direction. The whine broke the silence once more, which Killua figured might be a dog. The whimpers seemed to be coming from behind him. His eyes turned over his shoulder, looking back behind him. There was a small pup shivering and smashing it’s nose into a small pile of litter on the ground. Killua paced over to the small puppy, and bent down at it’s side. The puppy would have looked gorgeous had it not been covered in a few layers of dirt. Killua figured it might have had white fur at one point, back before it was scavenging on it’s own.

“I take it you want something to eat, huh?” the silverette held out a hand for the animal to sniff, making its judgement to trust him. It reminded him of the puppy he had years ago. He had named it Wolf, and was one of the few pleasures he remembers having as a younger child. Unfortunately, his dog had contracted rabies, and his father had told him that the dog had no choice but to be put down. A flash of his own small friend’s blood staining his hands made him grimace.

The small puppy barked weakly at him. “I’m sorry, I really don’t have anything good for you to eat.” His hand scratched the dog’s ear, hoping that it might be enough. When he stretched back up to his full height, the small animal barked once more at him. “I hope you find something good to eat.” he replied.

He was almost all the way turned around when he felt a tug on his shorts. “Huh?” The puppy ran passed him while yapping happily at him. He couldn’t help but grin light heartedly. “So you wanna play, huh? Alright.” He ran after the pup, his laugh bursting out of him before he could think to contain it in the night. Both young lives raced through the halls of the city. The puppy was excitedly huffing out woofs every time Killua passed it, just for it run harder to gain distance between them again. It was such an exciting moment for him, he hardly noticed that he had ran to the outskirts of the town.

There was a small shed located behind a house. The door was lightly propped open, with more whimpers and whines from within the small structure. He peered through the door, finding a mother dog with two other pups at her side. Killua eyed the small puppy that led him to his family. “Wow…” he gasped. “I guess it’s alright then, huh? For me to stay with you guys tonight?”

A hearty yap from the mother suggested that his stay was welcome. He hoped he wasn’t actually intruding upon someone else’s shed that just happened to be occupied by a family of dogs. It would be an awkward explanation to the person who opened the door to see a teenage boy keeping house in their shed.

Killua curled up in the farthest corner of the shed, warmed by the bodies of the dogs at his side. For the first time, Killua felt comfortable enough to sleep without worry.

The morning shined brightly in through the crack of the door, coaxing Killua to rise from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes sleepily when he sat up, realizing that he was no longer covered in a blanket of fur. Where’d they go? His mind wondered, groggily. He briefly wondered if they had decided to go out to look for food.

Oh, well, I guess I better get moving, He decided. However his thoughts were infiltrated by the sound of high pitched playful howls from outside. His grin intensified and he burst through the doors only to find a man leaning against the tree rooted next to the tattered shed. His heart skipped dangerously as they locked eye contact. Killua went on guard immediately. The man however, stayed perfectly calm whilst a puppy rubbed their head into his hand.

Before Killua could prepare to take action, the man asked him “Did you sleep well?” His voice was entirely gruff against the morning.

The addressed boy tensed his eyes over the man. He scanned carefully, but noticed no weapons. But the man wore many layers and sported a raggy hat. There were many places to hide a weapon on the human body, and Killua knew all too well from personal experience that it was just as easy to convert the body into a weapon as well.

“It seems these dogs really like you.” the man continued. The pup in his lap licked happily at the stubble on his chin.

From the structure of his body, the man didn’t seem to be all too tall, but his facial structure suggested that he was probably well into his thirties. From the bits of hair that he could see poking miscellaneously through his hat, it seemed that the older male possessed black hair, which was noticeably greasy. His thick strands probably hadn’t been washed in over a week.

“I guess so.” Killua answered consciously.

“You’re an overly suspecting kid.” The man gestured to the mother sitting upright. “I get not trusting a stranger, but you have enough distance between the two of us to run if I try anything. At least sit down, there. The mom’s getting uptight with all that tension you’re brewing.”

He was right. The mother was eyeing Killua, no longer a peaceful stare like last night. Killua obliged to the small male and leaned against the shed.

“So what are you doing by yourself?” The man started.

“None of your business.”

A snort followed Killua’s bitter reply. “You don’t entertain much, do you?”

“Never needed to. What do you want?”

“Well, I was the one who originally housed that shed. When I got back early this morning, there was another body in there. I figured I wouldn’t disturb you.”

Killua’s eyes widened. How had he not woken up at the new presence? Normally, he’d wake up instantaneously at the slightest movement of a new soul. How had he hidden himself? “Sorry,” he faked. “One of the pups led me here.”

“Eh, I’m not mad. But you seem to be a bright kid. How old are you?” Killua tensed at the sudden question. He felt a little creeped out. Not only could the man not hold a coherent conversation without changing the subject after every sentence, but he was asking such a personal question.

“Why the hell should I tell you?” Killua spat.

“Have you ever heard of a group of people called ‘hunters’?” The man changed again. That caught Killua’s attention.

“… And if I have? What’s it to you?”

“Well, like I said, you’re a bright kid. And this is a little known fact, but good hunters are usually loved by animals. The applications are due soon. If you don’t have any other plans, I suggest taking it.”

Killua finally burst out laughing at him. How ironic was it, that this man was telling him to do the very thing he was setting out to do. “It’s funny you say that,” he grinned. “That’s currently what I’m trying to do. Unfortunately, I’ve been having problems submitting my application. Since I’m underage and my parents are… not exactly accepting of the idea of me taking the exam. I actually ran away from home.” Killua suddenly felt entirely comfortable around the man.

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure. Well, it just so happens that I might be able to help you.” The older male smirked.

“Really?!” Killua leaned forward. “How?! I don’t think you’d be able to sign for me. I tried to forge a signature and they declined it. I don’t really think you’d be able to act as my guardian.”

The man bellowed out a huge laugh. “No, I don’t think I’d want to, either.”

Killua huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean, old man?”

“Nothing, nothing. Anyways, another little known secret about hunters is this: a hunter over the single star ranking has the power to immediately pass any applicant to take part in the exam. It just so happens that I’m a double star hunter. So if you’d like, I can-”

“Yes!” Killua shouted. He realized he had gotten overly excited, so he cleared his throat and calmed himself. “Ah, yes. I’d like that a lot.”

The man finally stood up, revealing that he was only a couple inches taller than Killua. The young boy snorted at the man’s short stature. Killua finally stood to meet him and brought out the application from his pocket.

The man pulled open the form, and entered in his information. Before closing it out. The ding from the electronic piece confirmed that the application was approved, and that Killua was now officially an applicant for the exam. “There,” The short male confirmed.

“Thank you!” Killua’s smile was entirely radiant and sincere. This was an incredibly convenient turn of events.

“Also, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” Killua raised an eyebrow.

“How old are you?” the repetition of the question made Killua frown, but he decided to answer truthfully.

“I’m twelve.” He answered triumphantly. A hand was placed on his shoulder, and Killua realized that the man smelled as awful as he looked. He held back the comments, as the man was nice enough to pass his application. It was a bit of a surprise that a man like this could really hold such a high position.

“Ah, I knew it! You’re the same age as my son! … I think.”

“You think?”

“Well, I haven’t seen my son since he was a baby. It’s hard to keep track after the years go by.” The man shrugged, before starting to walk away.

“You haven’t seen him since he was a baby? You sound like a pretty damn terrible dad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I probably am. Probably.” After that, the man had decided to take off. “Good luck kid.”

Killua smiled. He knew he had no room to judge in terms of terrible family connections. However, he found the man to be quite amusing. He also felt a little bit of sympathy for the old guy’s son. But overall, he thought about what his son must be like.

They’re the same age, and if his son was even a little like his father, from what Killua could tell, he’d bet anything that the boy would be a pretty interesting character.

Killua almost wished he could meet him.

It’d be nice to have a friend his age.

[ciaranshade]

Got accused of hate speech because I was trying to explain how "mansplaining" is problematic. This was my response.

I don't see how I've been hateful in the slightest. If you don't understand the concept of "mansplaining", I can give done examples that can be related to by anyone.

Example 1: Say you've just gotten glasses to correct astigmatism. A friend with 20/20 vision asks why you've got glasses. You explain, "I need them to see clearly." The friend replies, "I don't believe you." You assure him that, without glasses, everything looks extremely blurry to you. Your friend replies with, "I've never had any problems with my vision. Your vision is perfectly fine. I think you're overreacting. Astigmatism isn't real. Why bother wearing glasses?" Try as you might, you can't get him to understand that, without glasses, you cannot see clearly. He laughs at you and calls you ridiculous every time he sees you wearing glasses. Eventually, you become fed up with his incessant ridicule and cut him out of your life. He makes a huge post on social media about what "sensitive snowflakes" glasses-wearers are, that they should "learn to take a joke", and he claims that astigmatism is fake and just a conspiracy to get people to buy glasses.

Example 2: You're walking home from somewhere (work, the bar, whatever, take your pick) when you're suddenly attacked by a stray dog who is foaming at the mouth. The dog bites you and runs away. It's a pretty bad bite, and, since the dog showed signs of rabies, you decide to call an ambulance. When the ambulance gets there, the EMTs ask you a bunch of questions. One EMT says, "Dogs don't just bite people. You must've done something to piss it off." Another asks if you'd been handling raw meat lately, as that can attract dogs, and "you shouldn't do that, because it just encourages them to bite you; you must've been asking for it". You mention that the dog was foaming at the mouth and that you're worried it might've had rabies. The first EMT says, "I'm not sure I believe you. It's really not at all common for dogs with rabies to attack people." A bystander jumps in with, "Even if the dog did have rabies, the human immune system has ways of shutting that kind of thing down. It's incredibly rare for humans to get rabies from stray dogs." You're starting to feel very nervous since all these people refuse to believe you, and, since you've called the ambulance, you insist on them taking you to the emergency room. They roll their eyes and mutter to themselves, but they oblige. The entire ride there, you hear them grumbling about "supposed stray dogs" (they still don't believe you), and you worry whether or not your insurance will cover a rabies vaccination.

Example 3: You've fallen off a ladder and broken your arm. It's a compound fracture, the bone is sticking through the skin, and you're bleeding. You go to see your doctor. The doctor (who has never suffered a broken bone in his life) asks you if it hurts. You reply that it does, in fact, hurt rather badly, as you've broken your arm. The doctor asks your pain on a scale of one to ten. You're in excruciating pain, so you say "ten". The doctor shakes his head and says, "I think you're just being dramatic. There's no way a broken bone would hurt like that. Maybe a seven, maximum. Just take some aspirin. You'll be fine." You say, "Excuse me, but I'm bleeding uncontrollably. Isn't there something we can do about that?" The doctor says, "Nah, that's normal. Just part of having a broken bone, but that's life. You just have to deal with it." He sets the bone but doesn't bother bandaging it, and he tells you to wear a cast until the bleeding clears up. You say, "Maybe do some X-rays? Make sure it's set right, that it's gonna heal right?" He says, "No, no, I've set bones like yours before, and they turned out fine. No need to mess about with something that shouldn't be messed with." You seriously doubt this and question greatly how good of a doctor he is, but he's the only one your insurance will cover, so you don't have much choice but to leave your health in his hands.

Example 4: You are an expert in rocket science. Someone who doesn't know a thing about rocket science tries to explain rocket science to you and tries to tell you how to do your job. You are, understandably, annoyed.

I could give a fifth example, in which a woman kicks a man in the balls, tells him that it couldn't possibly hurt as much as he's making it out to hurt, and tells him to get over himself, but, as I don't know what it's like to have balls, I can't say whether it would hurt very badly, a little, or not at all. I have seen evidence that getting kicked in the balls hurts, but I will never know what it feels like, so I can't presume to tell someone it does or does not hurt. For all I know, the feeling varies from one man to the next. However, I've surmised that the feeling is highly unpleasant, and to insist that someone isn't in pain when they say that they are is, overall, an uncompassionate, rude thing to do (particularly if you have never experienced that pain, yourself).

If you still don't get what I'm trying to say, I'm sorry. I've explained to the best of my ability. But, by all means, continue to mansplain "mansplaining". I can tell when all someone's going to do is accuse me of being a misandrist and not open their minds to the idea that, maybe, just maybe, women understand their own bodies, lives, careers, and social standing better than men understand a woman's lot.

[samanthasroberts]

Hunting Bigfoot: 4 Things You Learn Chasing Fiction

I recently moved to a snowier, woodsier part of the world and noticed one day while taking a shortcut home that Bigfoot probably lives near me. There are a lot of trees and foreboding areas that look like the sorts of places in which gentle folk like me are made into the forest brides of beast-men. But how could I know for sure?

If there’s one thing I’m good at it’s finding the worst bar in any given town and making it my own. I easily located this town’s scruffiest bar that featured dead animals mounted on walls, and in no time had found no less than one man who claimed that he had heard from someone several years ago that there was a guy who saw Bigfoot around here once. Hot damn! A solid lead!

On the promise of picking up his bar tab and also returning to the bar later and picking up more of a bar tab, I got this guy to join me on a hunt in the woods. Now, you may be asking, “Felix, did you just pay a drunk stranger to take you into the woods alone?” And to that I say: You forgot that I got him to bring a gun.

This is Dan. He’s loaded with beer and ammunition!

#4. Drinking Outdoors Is Fun

My new friend Dan isn’t the sort of man who appreciates small talk, pop culture, or me. But I bought road beers and we were pretty much set to have an adventure. We drove about 20 minutes out of town to a massive swath of forest that Dan told me had a big lake somewhere in the middle of it and was the place some people said Bigfoot had been spotted. Already it had grown from maybe one guy to some people. I was super psyched.

In preparation for our journey, we packed not just beers but several snacks, an emergency flare (lest Bigfoot abduct us while a helicopter is flying overhead), and outdoorsy crap like a compass, a small hatchet, some matches, and a mickey of whiskey.

I’m not much for hiking but luckily neither is Dan, so we were in the woods for a solid 15 minutes before we stopped to have a drink. Our brew of choice was a fine Canadian ale known as Flying Monkeys Smashbomb Atomic IPA. I bought it solely based on the silly name, but it was actually pretty fantastic and I solidly recommend it for all your Bigfoot-hunting needs.

It’d be better if there were actually monkeys serving it, but other than that, A+.

Dan and I had a good sit in the woods, during which Dan proceeded to tell me about his younger days in a biker gang and a variety of related activities I won’t relate here, because I’m dumb but not that dumb. This was some secret-keeping beer we were having, and Dan may not have been the best tour guide in retrospect, but here we were, in the woods, with a gun. A gun and stories of Dan using a pool cue to destroy an entire room full of men in the most brutal, Deadpool ways possible. I’m glad I met this strange fellow.

Several beers later and Dan and I were having a pretty decent time, still within sight of the road. But alas, this was no joke expedition … or, well, it was, but I was still looking for Bigfoot. We had work to do.

#3. Losing Yourself Is Easier Than Finding Bigfoot

We set out in a direction I will call straight ahead. I know we packed a compass, but it was packed and, honestly, would it have made a difference to know if we were headed north or east? How could it have? We were looking for a legendary man-ape.

Dan told me as we walked that coyote activity in this area has been very much on the rise lately. There’s just a huge population of them. I’ve never seen a coyote outside of a Warner Bros. cartoon and was having a hard time reconciling my image of a cartoon wielding an anvil with an actual wild dog that probably has rabies tearing open my scrotum. Dan assured me they rarely attack humans unless they’re starving or in large groups, then, without missing a beat, added, “Or maybe not.” I almost forgot Dan is not a woodsman, merely a fellow drunk I met at a bar, and I am about as much an expert on what we’re doing as he is.

“I eat a lot of Jack Link’s, though.”

We stumbled upon a number of tracks that could have belonged to Foot, but definitely not Bigfoot, unless I have been grossly misled regarding sizing in this matter. Most were probably squirrels and assorted other woodland turds, but there were definitely some deer tracks as well, and in my mind that was close. The bigger the animal, the closer to Bigfoot. If we found moose tracks we’d be pretty much where we needed to be.

We trudged on through snow-covered underbrush, slightly tipsy and with no clear direction. Dan had brought with him a 20 gauge shotgun, which he said would probably work for taking out Bigfoot if we got him to stand still long enough. I’m no gunsmith and assumed any shotgun was probably good for blowing a Bigfoot’s leg off, until Dan told me this was his rabbit-hunting gun. He had a license only for small game this year, and he wasn’t going to get fined by bringing a higher-powered rifle into the woods when it wasn’t season for hunting something like elk. Dan had no faith in our expedition. Although he did point out that, if we shot Bigfoot with the 20 gauge it’d probably slow him down enough for some photos, so I should be fast with my phone and snap a pic or two. Maybe see if he’s down for a selfie.

#2. Winter Is Stupid

The worst time to do anything is winter time. According to my phone, it was about 4 below zero. For you Celsius types, that’s 20 below. Why the hell would Bigfoot be out in this silly-ass weather? Even bears have the intelligence to hibernate. Bigfoot should be snoozing under a pile of tarps in an old fishing cabin.

There was a brief moment when I encountered a smell that could be best described as unwashed skunk vagina somewhere out in the woods. I heard a rustling in the underbrush, and I thought we might be on to something. For those who doubt the veracity of my claims, I have photo evidence:

Got wood? Ha ha ha! Ha ha! Ahhh …

Like all good photos of Bigfoot, this one mostly requires you to be as drunk as I was when I took it and to have a lot of faith that I know the sight/smell of Bigfoot’s dick when I see it. But for real, do you see that in there? I know it looks like a twig, but I ask you, what do you think Bigfoot’s dick would look like? Probably a big, veiny twig, right?

Before I string you along anymore, I’ll let you know that was a twig. Bigfoot’s dick, even if it is twig-like, is probably attached to a Bigfoot and not a tree like this one was. But did you feel the suspense there for a second? Now you’re living in my world. The world of a Bigfoot hunter!

#1. Bigfoot Is Not Real

Let’s assume for a moment Bigfoot is real, the title of this section notwithstanding. He’s generally considered a “he” right? Not to point out the sex so much as the singular. There’s just one. Bigfoot’s a lone wolf, him and his veiny twig-dick, wandering the woods and stealing forest brides and whatnot. Most Bigfoot sightings have been in Washington state, California, and Oregon. He’s basically a West Coast kind of guy. I’m on the East Coast, so right away my chances are pretty pathetic. Sure, New York and Ohio have some sightings, but so does Russia. Point is, I’m in the wrong neighborhood, and I’m looking for one guy. One big, hairy guy who makes a point of never being found, because no one’s ever found him. Do you know what the odds are of me finding him?

I actually calculated the odds on this for you, in case you’re not good at these complex, veiny equations. Keeping in mind the time of year Bigfoot is most often sighted in these various locations, as well as the time of day and methods used for tracking Bigfoot and the actual odds of me finding him here, at this time, were fuck no. Fuck no I can’t find Bigfoot, because he’s not real.

Consider that humankind has found the coldest natural object in the entire universe, fossils from the first living veiny beasts on Earth, that stupid affluenza kid, and numerous missing plane crashes. If there were a race of hairy man-beasts populating the Pacific Northwest or anywhere else in North America, there would have been some kind of definitive evidence proposed by people who are not named Bubba or Cooter.

Dan and I finished our beers in the woods. We found one track that was probably mine.

Size 11 … ladies. Or guys who want to buy me shoes.

I also found a frozen turd that really made me laugh but the picture turned out pretty blurry due to my laughing as I took the photo. It wasn’t a Bigfoot turd, probably a raccoon or something. Still, that’s hilarious to me.

Dan decided he’d had enough of being in the woods with me, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d mostly wasted our day and provided little to no purpose for our journey other than the laziest attempt ever to discover a cryptozoological legend. Fortunately, that made my attempt just as relevant as anyone else’s, because come on. What would be a “serious” attempt at finding Bigfoot in 2016? Some kind of thermal-imaging drone and satellite tracking? That seems like an expensive prospect for a big fatty waste of time.

Dan called his wife to pick him up once we got back to the road. She seemed like a nice lady who could fight me and win with little effort. Neither of them offered me a ride. As I watched them drive off, I wondered if perhaps Bigfoot was now watching me from the trees and feeling a kinship with me as I, too, was now alone. But of course he wasn’t, because remember, he doesn’t exist. He and that veiny dick I’ve been asked to keep writing about are full-on fiction. No, the only stranger watching me from the woods was a friendly serial killer or public wanker.

I wondered why it is that so many people seem enamored with the idea of Bigfoot. Is it the mystery? The idea that, in a world of smartphones and WiFi and driverless cars, we could have somehow overlooked a man-beast living right under our noses? Possibly. Mostly, I think, it’s what I like to call Dorf Contrarianism. This is the idea that a stupid person will dig in like a tick when confronted with something they feel threatened by, in an intellectual fashion, telling them they’re wrong. The person doing it may not be trying to intimidate our Dorf, or even patronize them or talk down to them in any way, but that is how Dorf perceives it, because Dorf is not smart enough to know why it’s happening but is smart enough to know they’re being corrected. And they don’t like it. So they outwardly refuse it so thoroughly they must embrace the very opposite. They must hunt Bigfoot, simply because he is not real. They must drink that moonshine because it could make them go blind. They must fuck that cousin even if the baby’s going to always be leaning a little to the left. Such is the contrarian nature of Dorf. And that’s what keeps Bigfoot alive.

Check out other mythical monsters of lore and bull crap in 5 Myths That People Don’t Realize Are Admitted Hoaxes, and fear the shelled back of The Beast of Busco in 7 Monsters That Bigfoot Hunters Are Too Scared To Believe In.

Subscribe to our YouTube channel to see why ghosts are definitely real in 6 Most Eerily Convincing Ghost Videos On YouTube – The Spit Take, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

Also follow us on Facebook, and see if you can find Bigfoot in the comments. We hear he’s a fan.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/hunting-bigfoot-4-things-you-learn-chasing-fiction/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/03/14/hunting-bigfoot-4-things-you-learn-chasing-fiction/

[jimdsmith34]

Hunting Bigfoot: 4 Things You Learn Chasing Fiction

I recently moved to a snowier, woodsier part of the world and noticed one day while taking a shortcut home that Bigfoot probably lives near me. There are a lot of trees and foreboding areas that look like the sorts of places in which gentle folk like me are made into the forest brides of beast-men. But how could I know for sure?

If there’s one thing I’m good at it’s finding the worst bar in any given town and making it my own. I easily located this town’s scruffiest bar that featured dead animals mounted on walls, and in no time had found no less than one man who claimed that he had heard from someone several years ago that there was a guy who saw Bigfoot around here once. Hot damn! A solid lead!

On the promise of picking up his bar tab and also returning to the bar later and picking up more of a bar tab, I got this guy to join me on a hunt in the woods. Now, you may be asking, “Felix, did you just pay a drunk stranger to take you into the woods alone?” And to that I say: You forgot that I got him to bring a gun.

This is Dan. He’s loaded with beer and ammunition!

#4. Drinking Outdoors Is Fun

My new friend Dan isn’t the sort of man who appreciates small talk, pop culture, or me. But I bought road beers and we were pretty much set to have an adventure. We drove about 20 minutes out of town to a massive swath of forest that Dan told me had a big lake somewhere in the middle of it and was the place some people said Bigfoot had been spotted. Already it had grown from maybe one guy to some people. I was super psyched.

In preparation for our journey, we packed not just beers but several snacks, an emergency flare (lest Bigfoot abduct us while a helicopter is flying overhead), and outdoorsy crap like a compass, a small hatchet, some matches, and a mickey of whiskey.

I’m not much for hiking but luckily neither is Dan, so we were in the woods for a solid 15 minutes before we stopped to have a drink. Our brew of choice was a fine Canadian ale known as Flying Monkeys Smashbomb Atomic IPA. I bought it solely based on the silly name, but it was actually pretty fantastic and I solidly recommend it for all your Bigfoot-hunting needs.

It’d be better if there were actually monkeys serving it, but other than that, A+.

Dan and I had a good sit in the woods, during which Dan proceeded to tell me about his younger days in a biker gang and a variety of related activities I won’t relate here, because I’m dumb but not that dumb. This was some secret-keeping beer we were having, and Dan may not have been the best tour guide in retrospect, but here we were, in the woods, with a gun. A gun and stories of Dan using a pool cue to destroy an entire room full of men in the most brutal, Deadpool ways possible. I’m glad I met this strange fellow.

Several beers later and Dan and I were having a pretty decent time, still within sight of the road. But alas, this was no joke expedition … or, well, it was, but I was still looking for Bigfoot. We had work to do.

#3. Losing Yourself Is Easier Than Finding Bigfoot

We set out in a direction I will call straight ahead. I know we packed a compass, but it was packed and, honestly, would it have made a difference to know if we were headed north or east? How could it have? We were looking for a legendary man-ape.

Dan told me as we walked that coyote activity in this area has been very much on the rise lately. There’s just a huge population of them. I’ve never seen a coyote outside of a Warner Bros. cartoon and was having a hard time reconciling my image of a cartoon wielding an anvil with an actual wild dog that probably has rabies tearing open my scrotum. Dan assured me they rarely attack humans unless they’re starving or in large groups, then, without missing a beat, added, “Or maybe not.” I almost forgot Dan is not a woodsman, merely a fellow drunk I met at a bar, and I am about as much an expert on what we’re doing as he is.

“I eat a lot of Jack Link’s, though.”

We stumbled upon a number of tracks that could have belonged to Foot, but definitely not Bigfoot, unless I have been grossly misled regarding sizing in this matter. Most were probably squirrels and assorted other woodland turds, but there were definitely some deer tracks as well, and in my mind that was close. The bigger the animal, the closer to Bigfoot. If we found moose tracks we’d be pretty much where we needed to be.

We trudged on through snow-covered underbrush, slightly tipsy and with no clear direction. Dan had brought with him a 20 gauge shotgun, which he said would probably work for taking out Bigfoot if we got him to stand still long enough. I’m no gunsmith and assumed any shotgun was probably good for blowing a Bigfoot’s leg off, until Dan told me this was his rabbit-hunting gun. He had a license only for small game this year, and he wasn’t going to get fined by bringing a higher-powered rifle into the woods when it wasn’t season for hunting something like elk. Dan had no faith in our expedition. Although he did point out that, if we shot Bigfoot with the 20 gauge it’d probably slow him down enough for some photos, so I should be fast with my phone and snap a pic or two. Maybe see if he’s down for a selfie.

#2. Winter Is Stupid

The worst time to do anything is winter time. According to my phone, it was about 4 below zero. For you Celsius types, that’s 20 below. Why the hell would Bigfoot be out in this silly-ass weather? Even bears have the intelligence to hibernate. Bigfoot should be snoozing under a pile of tarps in an old fishing cabin.

There was a brief moment when I encountered a smell that could be best described as unwashed skunk vagina somewhere out in the woods. I heard a rustling in the underbrush, and I thought we might be on to something. For those who doubt the veracity of my claims, I have photo evidence:

Got wood? Ha ha ha! Ha ha! Ahhh …

Like all good photos of Bigfoot, this one mostly requires you to be as drunk as I was when I took it and to have a lot of faith that I know the sight/smell of Bigfoot’s dick when I see it. But for real, do you see that in there? I know it looks like a twig, but I ask you, what do you think Bigfoot’s dick would look like? Probably a big, veiny twig, right?

Before I string you along anymore, I’ll let you know that was a twig. Bigfoot’s dick, even if it is twig-like, is probably attached to a Bigfoot and not a tree like this one was. But did you feel the suspense there for a second? Now you’re living in my world. The world of a Bigfoot hunter!

#1. Bigfoot Is Not Real

Let’s assume for a moment Bigfoot is real, the title of this section notwithstanding. He’s generally considered a “he” right? Not to point out the sex so much as the singular. There’s just one. Bigfoot’s a lone wolf, him and his veiny twig-dick, wandering the woods and stealing forest brides and whatnot. Most Bigfoot sightings have been in Washington state, California, and Oregon. He’s basically a West Coast kind of guy. I’m on the East Coast, so right away my chances are pretty pathetic. Sure, New York and Ohio have some sightings, but so does Russia. Point is, I’m in the wrong neighborhood, and I’m looking for one guy. One big, hairy guy who makes a point of never being found, because no one’s ever found him. Do you know what the odds are of me finding him?

I actually calculated the odds on this for you, in case you’re not good at these complex, veiny equations. Keeping in mind the time of year Bigfoot is most often sighted in these various locations, as well as the time of day and methods used for tracking Bigfoot and the actual odds of me finding him here, at this time, were fuck no. Fuck no I can’t find Bigfoot, because he’s not real.

Consider that humankind has found the coldest natural object in the entire universe, fossils from the first living veiny beasts on Earth, that stupid affluenza kid, and numerous missing plane crashes. If there were a race of hairy man-beasts populating the Pacific Northwest or anywhere else in North America, there would have been some kind of definitive evidence proposed by people who are not named Bubba or Cooter.

Dan and I finished our beers in the woods. We found one track that was probably mine.

Size 11 … ladies. Or guys who want to buy me shoes.

I also found a frozen turd that really made me laugh but the picture turned out pretty blurry due to my laughing as I took the photo. It wasn’t a Bigfoot turd, probably a raccoon or something. Still, that’s hilarious to me.

Dan decided he’d had enough of being in the woods with me, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d mostly wasted our day and provided little to no purpose for our journey other than the laziest attempt ever to discover a cryptozoological legend. Fortunately, that made my attempt just as relevant as anyone else’s, because come on. What would be a “serious” attempt at finding Bigfoot in 2016? Some kind of thermal-imaging drone and satellite tracking? That seems like an expensive prospect for a big fatty waste of time.

Dan called his wife to pick him up once we got back to the road. She seemed like a nice lady who could fight me and win with little effort. Neither of them offered me a ride. As I watched them drive off, I wondered if perhaps Bigfoot was now watching me from the trees and feeling a kinship with me as I, too, was now alone. But of course he wasn’t, because remember, he doesn’t exist. He and that veiny dick I’ve been asked to keep writing about are full-on fiction. No, the only stranger watching me from the woods was a friendly serial killer or public wanker.

I wondered why it is that so many people seem enamored with the idea of Bigfoot. Is it the mystery? The idea that, in a world of smartphones and WiFi and driverless cars, we could have somehow overlooked a man-beast living right under our noses? Possibly. Mostly, I think, it’s what I like to call Dorf Contrarianism. This is the idea that a stupid person will dig in like a tick when confronted with something they feel threatened by, in an intellectual fashion, telling them they’re wrong. The person doing it may not be trying to intimidate our Dorf, or even patronize them or talk down to them in any way, but that is how Dorf perceives it, because Dorf is not smart enough to know why it’s happening but is smart enough to know they’re being corrected. And they don’t like it. So they outwardly refuse it so thoroughly they must embrace the very opposite. They must hunt Bigfoot, simply because he is not real. They must drink that moonshine because it could make them go blind. They must fuck that cousin even if the baby’s going to always be leaning a little to the left. Such is the contrarian nature of Dorf. And that’s what keeps Bigfoot alive.

Check out other mythical monsters of lore and bull crap in 5 Myths That People Don’t Realize Are Admitted Hoaxes, and fear the shelled back of The Beast of Busco in 7 Monsters That Bigfoot Hunters Are Too Scared To Believe In.

Subscribe to our YouTube channel to see why ghosts are definitely real in 6 Most Eerily Convincing Ghost Videos On YouTube – The Spit Take, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

Also follow us on Facebook, and see if you can find Bigfoot in the comments. We hear he’s a fan.

source http://allofbeer.com/hunting-bigfoot-4-things-you-learn-chasing-fiction/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2018/03/hunting-bigfoot-4-things-you-learn.html

[adambstingus]

Hunting Bigfoot: 4 Things You Learn Chasing Fiction

I recently moved to a snowier, woodsier part of the world and noticed one day while taking a shortcut home that Bigfoot probably lives near me. There are a lot of trees and foreboding areas that look like the sorts of places in which gentle folk like me are made into the forest brides of beast-men. But how could I know for sure?

If there’s one thing I’m good at it’s finding the worst bar in any given town and making it my own. I easily located this town’s scruffiest bar that featured dead animals mounted on walls, and in no time had found no less than one man who claimed that he had heard from someone several years ago that there was a guy who saw Bigfoot around here once. Hot damn! A solid lead!

On the promise of picking up his bar tab and also returning to the bar later and picking up more of a bar tab, I got this guy to join me on a hunt in the woods. Now, you may be asking, “Felix, did you just pay a drunk stranger to take you into the woods alone?” And to that I say: You forgot that I got him to bring a gun.

This is Dan. He’s loaded with beer and ammunition!

#4. Drinking Outdoors Is Fun

My new friend Dan isn’t the sort of man who appreciates small talk, pop culture, or me. But I bought road beers and we were pretty much set to have an adventure. We drove about 20 minutes out of town to a massive swath of forest that Dan told me had a big lake somewhere in the middle of it and was the place some people said Bigfoot had been spotted. Already it had grown from maybe one guy to some people. I was super psyched.

In preparation for our journey, we packed not just beers but several snacks, an emergency flare (lest Bigfoot abduct us while a helicopter is flying overhead), and outdoorsy crap like a compass, a small hatchet, some matches, and a mickey of whiskey.

I’m not much for hiking but luckily neither is Dan, so we were in the woods for a solid 15 minutes before we stopped to have a drink. Our brew of choice was a fine Canadian ale known as Flying Monkeys Smashbomb Atomic IPA. I bought it solely based on the silly name, but it was actually pretty fantastic and I solidly recommend it for all your Bigfoot-hunting needs.

It’d be better if there were actually monkeys serving it, but other than that, A+.

Dan and I had a good sit in the woods, during which Dan proceeded to tell me about his younger days in a biker gang and a variety of related activities I won’t relate here, because I’m dumb but not that dumb. This was some secret-keeping beer we were having, and Dan may not have been the best tour guide in retrospect, but here we were, in the woods, with a gun. A gun and stories of Dan using a pool cue to destroy an entire room full of men in the most brutal, Deadpool ways possible. I’m glad I met this strange fellow.

Several beers later and Dan and I were having a pretty decent time, still within sight of the road. But alas, this was no joke expedition … or, well, it was, but I was still looking for Bigfoot. We had work to do.

#3. Losing Yourself Is Easier Than Finding Bigfoot

We set out in a direction I will call straight ahead. I know we packed a compass, but it was packed and, honestly, would it have made a difference to know if we were headed north or east? How could it have? We were looking for a legendary man-ape.

Dan told me as we walked that coyote activity in this area has been very much on the rise lately. There’s just a huge population of them. I’ve never seen a coyote outside of a Warner Bros. cartoon and was having a hard time reconciling my image of a cartoon wielding an anvil with an actual wild dog that probably has rabies tearing open my scrotum. Dan assured me they rarely attack humans unless they’re starving or in large groups, then, without missing a beat, added, “Or maybe not.” I almost forgot Dan is not a woodsman, merely a fellow drunk I met at a bar, and I am about as much an expert on what we’re doing as he is.

“I eat a lot of Jack Link’s, though.”

We stumbled upon a number of tracks that could have belonged to Foot, but definitely not Bigfoot, unless I have been grossly misled regarding sizing in this matter. Most were probably squirrels and assorted other woodland turds, but there were definitely some deer tracks as well, and in my mind that was close. The bigger the animal, the closer to Bigfoot. If we found moose tracks we’d be pretty much where we needed to be.

We trudged on through snow-covered underbrush, slightly tipsy and with no clear direction. Dan had brought with him a 20 gauge shotgun, which he said would probably work for taking out Bigfoot if we got him to stand still long enough. I’m no gunsmith and assumed any shotgun was probably good for blowing a Bigfoot’s leg off, until Dan told me this was his rabbit-hunting gun. He had a license only for small game this year, and he wasn’t going to get fined by bringing a higher-powered rifle into the woods when it wasn’t season for hunting something like elk. Dan had no faith in our expedition. Although he did point out that, if we shot Bigfoot with the 20 gauge it’d probably slow him down enough for some photos, so I should be fast with my phone and snap a pic or two. Maybe see if he’s down for a selfie.

#2. Winter Is Stupid

The worst time to do anything is winter time. According to my phone, it was about 4 below zero. For you Celsius types, that’s 20 below. Why the hell would Bigfoot be out in this silly-ass weather? Even bears have the intelligence to hibernate. Bigfoot should be snoozing under a pile of tarps in an old fishing cabin.

There was a brief moment when I encountered a smell that could be best described as unwashed skunk vagina somewhere out in the woods. I heard a rustling in the underbrush, and I thought we might be on to something. For those who doubt the veracity of my claims, I have photo evidence:

Got wood? Ha ha ha! Ha ha! Ahhh …

Like all good photos of Bigfoot, this one mostly requires you to be as drunk as I was when I took it and to have a lot of faith that I know the sight/smell of Bigfoot’s dick when I see it. But for real, do you see that in there? I know it looks like a twig, but I ask you, what do you think Bigfoot’s dick would look like? Probably a big, veiny twig, right?

Before I string you along anymore, I’ll let you know that was a twig. Bigfoot’s dick, even if it is twig-like, is probably attached to a Bigfoot and not a tree like this one was. But did you feel the suspense there for a second? Now you’re living in my world. The world of a Bigfoot hunter!

#1. Bigfoot Is Not Real

Let’s assume for a moment Bigfoot is real, the title of this section notwithstanding. He’s generally considered a “he” right? Not to point out the sex so much as the singular. There’s just one. Bigfoot’s a lone wolf, him and his veiny twig-dick, wandering the woods and stealing forest brides and whatnot. Most Bigfoot sightings have been in Washington state, California, and Oregon. He’s basically a West Coast kind of guy. I’m on the East Coast, so right away my chances are pretty pathetic. Sure, New York and Ohio have some sightings, but so does Russia. Point is, I’m in the wrong neighborhood, and I’m looking for one guy. One big, hairy guy who makes a point of never being found, because no one’s ever found him. Do you know what the odds are of me finding him?

I actually calculated the odds on this for you, in case you’re not good at these complex, veiny equations. Keeping in mind the time of year Bigfoot is most often sighted in these various locations, as well as the time of day and methods used for tracking Bigfoot and the actual odds of me finding him here, at this time, were fuck no. Fuck no I can’t find Bigfoot, because he’s not real.

Consider that humankind has found the coldest natural object in the entire universe, fossils from the first living veiny beasts on Earth, that stupid affluenza kid, and numerous missing plane crashes. If there were a race of hairy man-beasts populating the Pacific Northwest or anywhere else in North America, there would have been some kind of definitive evidence proposed by people who are not named Bubba or Cooter.

Dan and I finished our beers in the woods. We found one track that was probably mine.

Size 11 … ladies. Or guys who want to buy me shoes.

I also found a frozen turd that really made me laugh but the picture turned out pretty blurry due to my laughing as I took the photo. It wasn’t a Bigfoot turd, probably a raccoon or something. Still, that’s hilarious to me.

Dan decided he’d had enough of being in the woods with me, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d mostly wasted our day and provided little to no purpose for our journey other than the laziest attempt ever to discover a cryptozoological legend. Fortunately, that made my attempt just as relevant as anyone else’s, because come on. What would be a “serious” attempt at finding Bigfoot in 2016? Some kind of thermal-imaging drone and satellite tracking? That seems like an expensive prospect for a big fatty waste of time.

Dan called his wife to pick him up once we got back to the road. She seemed like a nice lady who could fight me and win with little effort. Neither of them offered me a ride. As I watched them drive off, I wondered if perhaps Bigfoot was now watching me from the trees and feeling a kinship with me as I, too, was now alone. But of course he wasn’t, because remember, he doesn’t exist. He and that veiny dick I’ve been asked to keep writing about are full-on fiction. No, the only stranger watching me from the woods was a friendly serial killer or public wanker.

I wondered why it is that so many people seem enamored with the idea of Bigfoot. Is it the mystery? The idea that, in a world of smartphones and WiFi and driverless cars, we could have somehow overlooked a man-beast living right under our noses? Possibly. Mostly, I think, it’s what I like to call Dorf Contrarianism. This is the idea that a stupid person will dig in like a tick when confronted with something they feel threatened by, in an intellectual fashion, telling them they’re wrong. The person doing it may not be trying to intimidate our Dorf, or even patronize them or talk down to them in any way, but that is how Dorf perceives it, because Dorf is not smart enough to know why it’s happening but is smart enough to know they’re being corrected. And they don’t like it. So they outwardly refuse it so thoroughly they must embrace the very opposite. They must hunt Bigfoot, simply because he is not real. They must drink that moonshine because it could make them go blind. They must fuck that cousin even if the baby’s going to always be leaning a little to the left. Such is the contrarian nature of Dorf. And that’s what keeps Bigfoot alive.

Check out other mythical monsters of lore and bull crap in 5 Myths That People Don’t Realize Are Admitted Hoaxes, and fear the shelled back of The Beast of Busco in 7 Monsters That Bigfoot Hunters Are Too Scared To Believe In.

Subscribe to our YouTube channel to see why ghosts are definitely real in 6 Most Eerily Convincing Ghost Videos On YouTube – The Spit Take, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

Also follow us on Facebook, and see if you can find Bigfoot in the comments. We hear he’s a fan.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/hunting-bigfoot-4-things-you-learn-chasing-fiction/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/171848317867

[allofbeercom]

Hunting Bigfoot: 4 Things You Learn Chasing Fiction

I recently moved to a snowier, woodsier part of the world and noticed one day while taking a shortcut home that Bigfoot probably lives near me. There are a lot of trees and foreboding areas that look like the sorts of places in which gentle folk like me are made into the forest brides of beast-men. But how could I know for sure?

If there’s one thing I’m good at it’s finding the worst bar in any given town and making it my own. I easily located this town’s scruffiest bar that featured dead animals mounted on walls, and in no time had found no less than one man who claimed that he had heard from someone several years ago that there was a guy who saw Bigfoot around here once. Hot damn! A solid lead!

On the promise of picking up his bar tab and also returning to the bar later and picking up more of a bar tab, I got this guy to join me on a hunt in the woods. Now, you may be asking, “Felix, did you just pay a drunk stranger to take you into the woods alone?” And to that I say: You forgot that I got him to bring a gun.

This is Dan. He’s loaded with beer and ammunition!

#4. Drinking Outdoors Is Fun

My new friend Dan isn’t the sort of man who appreciates small talk, pop culture, or me. But I bought road beers and we were pretty much set to have an adventure. We drove about 20 minutes out of town to a massive swath of forest that Dan told me had a big lake somewhere in the middle of it and was the place some people said Bigfoot had been spotted. Already it had grown from maybe one guy to some people. I was super psyched.

In preparation for our journey, we packed not just beers but several snacks, an emergency flare (lest Bigfoot abduct us while a helicopter is flying overhead), and outdoorsy crap like a compass, a small hatchet, some matches, and a mickey of whiskey.

I’m not much for hiking but luckily neither is Dan, so we were in the woods for a solid 15 minutes before we stopped to have a drink. Our brew of choice was a fine Canadian ale known as Flying Monkeys Smashbomb Atomic IPA. I bought it solely based on the silly name, but it was actually pretty fantastic and I solidly recommend it for all your Bigfoot-hunting needs.

It’d be better if there were actually monkeys serving it, but other than that, A+.

Dan and I had a good sit in the woods, during which Dan proceeded to tell me about his younger days in a biker gang and a variety of related activities I won’t relate here, because I’m dumb but not that dumb. This was some secret-keeping beer we were having, and Dan may not have been the best tour guide in retrospect, but here we were, in the woods, with a gun. A gun and stories of Dan using a pool cue to destroy an entire room full of men in the most brutal, Deadpool ways possible. I’m glad I met this strange fellow.

Several beers later and Dan and I were having a pretty decent time, still within sight of the road. But alas, this was no joke expedition … or, well, it was, but I was still looking for Bigfoot. We had work to do.

#3. Losing Yourself Is Easier Than Finding Bigfoot

We set out in a direction I will call straight ahead. I know we packed a compass, but it was packed and, honestly, would it have made a difference to know if we were headed north or east? How could it have? We were looking for a legendary man-ape.

Dan told me as we walked that coyote activity in this area has been very much on the rise lately. There’s just a huge population of them. I’ve never seen a coyote outside of a Warner Bros. cartoon and was having a hard time reconciling my image of a cartoon wielding an anvil with an actual wild dog that probably has rabies tearing open my scrotum. Dan assured me they rarely attack humans unless they’re starving or in large groups, then, without missing a beat, added, “Or maybe not.” I almost forgot Dan is not a woodsman, merely a fellow drunk I met at a bar, and I am about as much an expert on what we’re doing as he is.

“I eat a lot of Jack Link’s, though.”

We stumbled upon a number of tracks that could have belonged to Foot, but definitely not Bigfoot, unless I have been grossly misled regarding sizing in this matter. Most were probably squirrels and assorted other woodland turds, but there were definitely some deer tracks as well, and in my mind that was close. The bigger the animal, the closer to Bigfoot. If we found moose tracks we’d be pretty much where we needed to be.

We trudged on through snow-covered underbrush, slightly tipsy and with no clear direction. Dan had brought with him a 20 gauge shotgun, which he said would probably work for taking out Bigfoot if we got him to stand still long enough. I’m no gunsmith and assumed any shotgun was probably good for blowing a Bigfoot’s leg off, until Dan told me this was his rabbit-hunting gun. He had a license only for small game this year, and he wasn’t going to get fined by bringing a higher-powered rifle into the woods when it wasn’t season for hunting something like elk. Dan had no faith in our expedition. Although he did point out that, if we shot Bigfoot with the 20 gauge it’d probably slow him down enough for some photos, so I should be fast with my phone and snap a pic or two. Maybe see if he’s down for a selfie.

#2. Winter Is Stupid

The worst time to do anything is winter time. According to my phone, it was about 4 below zero. For you Celsius types, that’s 20 below. Why the hell would Bigfoot be out in this silly-ass weather? Even bears have the intelligence to hibernate. Bigfoot should be snoozing under a pile of tarps in an old fishing cabin.

There was a brief moment when I encountered a smell that could be best described as unwashed skunk vagina somewhere out in the woods. I heard a rustling in the underbrush, and I thought we might be on to something. For those who doubt the veracity of my claims, I have photo evidence:

Got wood? Ha ha ha! Ha ha! Ahhh …

Like all good photos of Bigfoot, this one mostly requires you to be as drunk as I was when I took it and to have a lot of faith that I know the sight/smell of Bigfoot’s dick when I see it. But for real, do you see that in there? I know it looks like a twig, but I ask you, what do you think Bigfoot’s dick would look like? Probably a big, veiny twig, right?

Before I string you along anymore, I’ll let you know that was a twig. Bigfoot’s dick, even if it is twig-like, is probably attached to a Bigfoot and not a tree like this one was. But did you feel the suspense there for a second? Now you’re living in my world. The world of a Bigfoot hunter!

#1. Bigfoot Is Not Real

Let’s assume for a moment Bigfoot is real, the title of this section notwithstanding. He’s generally considered a “he” right? Not to point out the sex so much as the singular. There’s just one. Bigfoot’s a lone wolf, him and his veiny twig-dick, wandering the woods and stealing forest brides and whatnot. Most Bigfoot sightings have been in Washington state, California, and Oregon. He’s basically a West Coast kind of guy. I’m on the East Coast, so right away my chances are pretty pathetic. Sure, New York and Ohio have some sightings, but so does Russia. Point is, I’m in the wrong neighborhood, and I’m looking for one guy. One big, hairy guy who makes a point of never being found, because no one’s ever found him. Do you know what the odds are of me finding him?

I actually calculated the odds on this for you, in case you’re not good at these complex, veiny equations. Keeping in mind the time of year Bigfoot is most often sighted in these various locations, as well as the time of day and methods used for tracking Bigfoot and the actual odds of me finding him here, at this time, were fuck no. Fuck no I can’t find Bigfoot, because he’s not real.

Consider that humankind has found the coldest natural object in the entire universe, fossils from the first living veiny beasts on Earth, that stupid affluenza kid, and numerous missing plane crashes. If there were a race of hairy man-beasts populating the Pacific Northwest or anywhere else in North America, there would have been some kind of definitive evidence proposed by people who are not named Bubba or Cooter.

Dan and I finished our beers in the woods. We found one track that was probably mine.

Size 11 … ladies. Or guys who want to buy me shoes.

I also found a frozen turd that really made me laugh but the picture turned out pretty blurry due to my laughing as I took the photo. It wasn’t a Bigfoot turd, probably a raccoon or something. Still, that’s hilarious to me.

Dan decided he’d had enough of being in the woods with me, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d mostly wasted our day and provided little to no purpose for our journey other than the laziest attempt ever to discover a cryptozoological legend. Fortunately, that made my attempt just as relevant as anyone else’s, because come on. What would be a “serious” attempt at finding Bigfoot in 2016? Some kind of thermal-imaging drone and satellite tracking? That seems like an expensive prospect for a big fatty waste of time.

Dan called his wife to pick him up once we got back to the road. She seemed like a nice lady who could fight me and win with little effort. Neither of them offered me a ride. As I watched them drive off, I wondered if perhaps Bigfoot was now watching me from the trees and feeling a kinship with me as I, too, was now alone. But of course he wasn’t, because remember, he doesn’t exist. He and that veiny dick I’ve been asked to keep writing about are full-on fiction. No, the only stranger watching me from the woods was a friendly serial killer or public wanker.

I wondered why it is that so many people seem enamored with the idea of Bigfoot. Is it the mystery? The idea that, in a world of smartphones and WiFi and driverless cars, we could have somehow overlooked a man-beast living right under our noses? Possibly. Mostly, I think, it’s what I like to call Dorf Contrarianism. This is the idea that a stupid person will dig in like a tick when confronted with something they feel threatened by, in an intellectual fashion, telling them they’re wrong. The person doing it may not be trying to intimidate our Dorf, or even patronize them or talk down to them in any way, but that is how Dorf perceives it, because Dorf is not smart enough to know why it’s happening but is smart enough to know they’re being corrected. And they don’t like it. So they outwardly refuse it so thoroughly they must embrace the very opposite. They must hunt Bigfoot, simply because he is not real. They must drink that moonshine because it could make them go blind. They must fuck that cousin even if the baby’s going to always be leaning a little to the left. Such is the contrarian nature of Dorf. And that’s what keeps Bigfoot alive.

Check out other mythical monsters of lore and bull crap in 5 Myths That People Don’t Realize Are Admitted Hoaxes, and fear the shelled back of The Beast of Busco in 7 Monsters That Bigfoot Hunters Are Too Scared To Believe In.

Subscribe to our YouTube channel to see why ghosts are definitely real in 6 Most Eerily Convincing Ghost Videos On YouTube – The Spit Take, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

Also follow us on Facebook, and see if you can find Bigfoot in the comments. We hear he’s a fan.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/hunting-bigfoot-4-things-you-learn-chasing-fiction/

[sakuari]

White Chrysanthemums - Extras

Hello! Sorreh for nonexistent and irregular updates (not that anyone actually reads it.) I know I’m skimping around the main ship and I know that the Chronicles of Shavy/Delley haven’t been updated yet, but Tumblr won’t let me upload them. T.T I’ll work my way out, so anticipate them kinda. Here’s just a little scenario thingy as a little filler.

———————–

Scenario: What the Hwarang do while in class (while trying not to get in trouble with Hwi Hwa.)

1. Ban Ryu and Yeol Woo:

“Hey, what’s the answer to this?” Yeol Woo whispered to the side. The Hwarang were taking a philosophy test that, of course, no one ever bothered to study for. Except Ban Ryu as expected, and Yeol Woo, being the clever diva he was, sat coyly next to Ban Ryu. Meanwhile, Ji Dwi just sat there looking proud as fuck but confused on the inside, Seon Woo tried to write words on the paper-which is the most important thing to him now-while Soo Ho and Hansung were making cute (yet messy) caricatures of the life of Hwi Hwa’s toe. Oh, and Ah Ro and Sooyeon were watching through the windows, completely conspicuous. Good thing Hwi Hwa took a nap to his happy dreams of swimming in liquor.

“…” Ban Ryu clenched his mouth to not say anything. He knew this was going to happen, just like he knew Yeol Woo was going to watch him in the shower again. Yeol Woo gently nudged him with his elbow. Again, Ban Ryu refused to respond.

“Don’t be a bitchy friend!” Yeol Woo whispers, except much more harsh and with a slight snarl at the end of the sentence.

“…The elements of water, fire, earth, and air represent the aspects of life and the human soul. Water-” Ban Ryu quietly droned on until Yeol Woo interrupted him.

“Thanks cute nerd! That’s all I needed.” Yeol Woo winked and wrote down Ban Ryu’s answer. Of course, Ban Ryu blushed and was over-thinking on why he got such absurd nicknames and referencing from his friend. Maybe it was a prank? Maybe it was a dare to try to embarrass him. He was determined to find out, sooner or later. But for now, time to keep his perfect track record.

The two poked and teased each other during the test. Well, it was more like Yeol Woo provoking him with blackmail about Ban Ryu’s cute sleeping habits and Ban Ryu keeping promise on his curses, smearing his friend’s eyebrows with ink. Once they finished and Hwi Hwa graded, Yeol Woo beamed with his eyes sparkling at his first passing grade. Ban Ryu quietly smiled seeing his friend’s joy (and knowing the relieving fact that he kept his perfect grades up.) They both left when class was over, heading to the tea shop for a little celebration.

———————- 2. Hansung:

It was only Wednesday night, and he already longed for the Poetry Club night to come soon. So Young was much more interesting to study than this stupid literature text. Haikus were more fun to recite than a presentation on what he learned about the five pious morals bequeathed on man. He sighed and tried to read the text by candlelight, but failed. This night was always group study cram night, but he wanted to try doing independent study for once; he rather not get caught cheating again. Memories of punishment flashed before his eyes until he shook his head to perish the thoughts.

He started doodling on paper (that was meant to write down notes about the text), drawing his image of So Young and the Poetry Club from memory. He hummed his favorite songs and replayed her honey voice again and again. He made sure to outline and detail her eyes, rounder and brighter than the moon. Her lips and cheeks were colored with roses almost and she had a little beauty mark tucked under her eye lid; he made a mental checklist of all the small details of her face so he didn’t miss one beautiful thing about her.

He finished (remembering to make the Poetry Club girls in the back.) He unconsciously started to grin at his drawing. He wasn’t a Picasso, but he thought she looked beautiful. Well, her paper clone. He studied the drawing once more, but his paper was snatched away by one of his hyungs.

“Ooh, who’s this?” One of the hyungs teased. “Got a girlfriend?” They started examining Hansung’s drawing, putting the paper out of his reach when he desperately jumped to get it.

“Give it back!” He cried, jumping on one of his hyjngs to grab his sheet. They then threw him on the floor along with the sheet, bored and exasperated after seeing nothing else to tease Hansung about in the paper.

He clutched the paper close to his chest and closer to his heart, pouting about the injustice that was done to paper So Young. He smoothed out the wrinkles and smiled on, going (or attempting to go) back to his studies, So Young nearby and-in his imagination-cheering him on.

————————

3. Soo Ho, Ji Dwi, and Seon Woo:

The three decided for once to actually study, but they decided to do it in their bunk room so they don’t get punished tomorrow, carrying Hwi Hwa for fifty laps around the woods. The night started off normal, abnormally normal someone might say. Guided by candlelight and feeble minds, the three tried to help each other in their weak points.

“So we have to read the passage and flesh out the central ideas of philosophy then tie them to the kingship duties in a meaningful manner. Seems simple enough. Writing a couple sentences and reading this tiny thing seems easy. You guys pumped to beat Ban Ryu tomorrow!?!” Soo Ho cheered and screamed, trying to cover his saltiness about how Ban Ryu didn’t choose him yesterday as a lo-I mean worthy man.

“No.” Seon Woo curtly replied. He’s a passive-aggressive cat who’s supposed to be a dog-bird yet here trying to attempt normal human contact with other people. How can this become even more wrong?

“This is worthless.” Ji Dwi scoffed, dismissing the text and brushing dust off his pajama robes. He was trying to fight his insomnia and he only agreed to come so he can watch his rival vying for Ah Ro’s heart (and maybe Seon Woo’s ass.)

“Come on! Don’t you guys have any drive left in you? Any passion?” Soo Ho pleaded, actually desperate for a passing grade. And friends. Emphasis on FRIENDS.

“No, sore loser.” “Can you drive horses with a passion?” The two remarked.

Soo Ho’s expression soured, lending way to anger. His eyebrows slumped and furrowed and his lips twitched with furious energy.

“GODDAMMIT! Even Ban Ryu has more drive than you! And he’s a shell of a fucking man! Let’s just do the damn thing to get it over it!” He roared. He was just as sick and tired as them considering they somehow managed to cover the other material. This one passage was the last thing standing between them and preparedness. Soo Ho kicked his textbooks and slipped, landing head-first and clutching his head in pain. Both of them laughed.

“Good job! Looks like you’re willing to fall for the L!” Ji Dwi barely managed to say his sentence because his sides hurt and he was laughing too hard. Seon Woo just rolled on the floor over the papers cackling his heart out, sounding like a crazed coyote (most likely with rabies.)

Soo Ho started beating them up because of that and soon all three of them were kung fu fighting~ {gets dunked on} Ultimately, they never got the passage done. However, they weren’t able to take the test anyways because of their injuries, leading up to another conflict. You know, Ji Dwi vying for Dr. Ah Ro’s attention, Seon Woo protecting her like an awkward teddy bear (even though she can defeat any scrub in her way,) Soo Ho getting riled up on random adrenaline, Sooyeon screaming and being a squealer, etcetera. But that’s another story for another time.

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Hey, thanks for bearing with me! Sorreh if this seems crappy, but I tried (I’m bad with excuses lol.) So my editor will check and this filler will be Gucci for the limited number of readers. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

To The Beautiful You,

Zelo