#Poacher’s Relish

[frimleyblogger]

More Gentleman’s Relish

John Osborn developed #GentlemansRelish in 1828 using #anchovies and a blend of spices and herbs which is still a secret today #Foodhistory

It was Englishman John Osborn, a grocer or provision merchant living in Paris, who developed the recipe for the Gentleman’s Relish. A rather complicated process, it involved taking Spanish anchovy fillets, packing them for eighteen months into barrels of salt to mature, and then brine rinsing them, before cooking them at a simmer, cooling and then blending them with butter, rusk, and Osborn’s…

[youaretwicemine]

It was unseasonably warm for May in London, but the stone castle retained a dank chill. I was quite put out. My advisors were conspiring against me, the monarchs of Europe sent presents and over-zealous notes, courting me only to line their hell-deep silk-satin pockets, and on top of all this, I had a toothache. The royal physician’s assistant—an upstart of a lad, blathering on about some new research he’d done—had suggested under his breath that I eat an orange, but the boy was clearly mad. Cold, nasty, puckery fruits full of pips, oranges.

A sharp rap sounded on the chamber door, and a courtier with a ruff whose enormous diameter surpassed his small stature entered and bowed. If he was shocked by the sour look on his Queen’s face (I was still thinking about oranges), he hid it well. “Your Grace, we have received pressing news regarding your royal cousin, Mary Queen of Scots. She has crossed Solway Firth and been taken into custody by local officials. Moreover, she has requested an audience with Your Majesty as soon as may be.” He waited expectantly for a reply. Moraines ‘pon them all. I am NOT in the mood. “Marlowe, place it upon my to-do list.” “Your…Y-yes, Your Grace,” he stammered in mild perplexity. “Am I to notify the messengers…” the words trailed into silence. Fool. “Nay. You are dismissed, Marlowe.” Reveling a little in his awkwardness, I fixed the unfortunate man such a glare that he scuttled out upon the spot, nearly overbalancing when his ruff collided with the narrow chamber doorway. God’s teeth, I’m in a foul temper today. This reflection did not bother me; the best strategies often strike at such times. I drummed my nails on the desk and returned to answering letters.

The blaring of a miserably out-of-tune trumpet drowned the quiet scratching of quill on paper. Rolling my eyes a little, I strode to the door and threw it open. “The Royal Cook to see Your Grace,” announced a page with an obnoxiously genuine smile. Various cooks and attendants entered as I moved back to accommodate them all, and a deluge of bowing ensued. “What is it, Francis?” “Well, Your Grace,” he began. I shall spare you the next half-hour—endless questions about each and every detail of the upcoming feast, down to which candlesticks to use for which table. Why should I care? I had important business to delay attending to! The rest of the day saw my temper growing shorter and my to-do list growing longer. Normally I relished the duties of reigning, the constant mental and social challenge, the decisions to be made. It was like playing a game of chess, but with lives at stake. How terribly thrilling. Yet today every request seemed insufferable, every demand absurd. Your Grace, we have found poachers in your royal forests. Hang them. The Royal Ambassador of King Philip II of Spain to see Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth of England. I entertained him as briefly as I dared. And so on and on, till day’s end neared and I would have been exhausted if I weren’t taking care to remain mad as a hornet.

My last audience of the evening was one I had looked forward to all week. I was receiving Sir Francis Drake, home in England at last after a long voyage. Francis was an excellent captain—and a better pirate, for his exploits often lined the British treasury at the expense of Spain’s insufferable King Philip. A bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought of that peeving wretch. Ignorant excuse for a monarch! courting indeed! I’d sooner marry a stable-boy! Shoving him out of my mind, I tried to set myself to enjoy the banquet.

Over dinner, Francis detailed his latest adventures to the entertainment and amazement of us all. I laughed, ate heartily, and relaxed a bit from the foulness of the day. Just as he was reaching the climax of an enthralling tale (never mind that his own glories therein may have been somewhat exaggerated), the cacophonous trumpets honked once more, announcing a befrilled emissary. He started to introduce himself and only got as far as “…representative of King Philip, Your Gra-“ before I was out of my chair. “Moraines heaped upon thee, sir!” This time the words were spoken aloud before I could help myself. All my previous irritability returned, and I forgot good sense and etiquette. “Fops! Bloodsuckers! Dandies feigning friendship! All day long I’ve been pulled hither and yon by fiends like you—no more! Out! Out! And let me eat my dinner in PEACE! Would that I were a buffalo! At least then I might dine on hay unhindered by heads of state!” I didn’t remember my voice could be so loud, but now it thundered out like cannon fire, echoing from every hard surface. Stepping forward towards the astonished dignitary, I tangled in my long skirts—usually managed with such care and precision—and toppled headlong—

—and awoke on the floor of my bedchamber with bruises on both elbows. My feet had tangled in my sheets, and I had tumbled out of bed. A dream and no more! I recalled my ludicrous conduct and burst out laughing. My lady’s maid bustled in and beheld the Queen of England crying tears of hilarity into the floorboards. “Y-your Highness, are you quite all right? I heard a thump and then a shriek and I…” “Jane, answer me one question: am I a buffalo?” Bewildering people was fun. I should try it more. Poor Jane looked at me, now thoroughly convinced a madwoman wore the English crown. “Why…no, Your Highness. You are our Queen.” “Good,” I said firmly. “I never liked hay, anyway.”

[hannahlikeso741]

HL Girls smelling male MC's perfume Part 2

Did you think I forgot about the girls? Of course not. A continuation of the little blurbs previously written with MC as their lover now. Perfumes listed for each character and credits to @cranberryletters and @hogwartslegacyreactions.

Boys Edition : Part 1, Part 2

Girl's edition : Part 1

Anne Sallow: Bvlgari's Wood Essence

Anne never understood why MC still comes to visit her. She did allow him, as long as he came alone since the events with her brother. MC always turns up every week without fail, even as her health was failing. He deserved better. Anne can feel her health deteriorate as the curse takes her life, the healers stumped on what to do. She would only drag MC down, waste his youth caring for her when the wizarding world has so much to offer him. She didn't want to be a burden, telling MC that he didn't had to come just because he felt sorry for her as she lay bed ridden. She didn't need his pity. She didn't expect MC to pull her into a hug, reassuring her that it was nonsense, he wasn't going anywhere. If anything, he said, she needed him more than ever. Anne sighed as she hugged him back, burying her nose into his shirt that contained that scent. Oh the cedarwood and cypress that mingled with a tinge of citrus that comforted her so like that scarf he gave her so long ago. MC admitted he does want to care for her willingly, for he was in love. So be it. Life can be cruel, but they have each other.

Poppy Sweeting : Jo Malone's Poppy & Barley

She quietly asked MC what they will be doing with all the beasts in the vivarium after MC graduates. MC gave some thought and decided to give them to good homes, as he wants to explore the magical world and their beasts. Poppy nervously asks if there is room for her in his plans. MC nodded to her overjoyed heart. Poppy was ecstatic to see the many beasts they encountered on their travels, be in it in the wild, poacher rings or being put to use by the local wizarding population as pets or as farm beasts. MC too, shared her enthusiasm as he learns more about the wizarding world. On a chilly night on top of a mountain, Poppy found herself unable to sleep. She got up to find MC not by her side, but by a small fireplace, muttering to himself as he documents what happened to them that day. MC looked up, smiling at her. Poppy felt a breath of content as she looked at MC with adoration, watching him get up and give her a kiss on the forehead. Poppy would never tire the scent of his cologne, the wheat and barley notes laced with blackcurrent, fig and musk gives off a honeyed scent of home for her. MC puts out the fire and went back to bed with her, holding her tight. No matter where she is, Poppy is home as long as MC is with her.

Imelda Reyes : Frederic Malle's Geranium Pour Monsieur

She did it! She finally got the cup for Slytherin and her hard work paid off at last. Imelda proudly showed the Qudditch cup for all of Hogwarts to see, joining in the frenzy of her team mates. When the celebration high was over, Imelda quietly went to the side of the Quidditch arena where no one could see her, where MC was waiting. He gave a smirk that made her knees go weak, as she landed in his arms. She began to tell him on how she scored all her points while MC listened intently. Imelda secretly counted her blessings that MC wasn't too keen on playing, he would have made for tough competition. MC then brushed away the few stray hairs that came out of Imelda's pony tail, his scent teasing her nose. Oh she hated that scent at first but now, Imelda relishes in it. That fresh sharp mint laced with clove and cinnamon tingled her nose and seduced her every sense. Imelda would never admit how giggly and happy MC's touch made her felt. She was done the minute MC gave her a kiss on her lips, whispering before kissing her with passion. Imelda melted at his words. "That's my girl."

Natsai Onai : Issey Miyake's L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme

Come on, focus MC! Natty called out as they dueled each other at the belltower courtyard just to merely sharpen their skills. MC gave a knowing smirk that Natty braced herself for. Oh he played dirty, casting a Flippendo that made her turn in the air, but she didn't expect Accio as she felt that force pulling her directly on MC. Oh, she is really making a plan to make sure her feet are back on the ground so she can make her move, MC didn't play fair. What she didn't expect was MC to give her a passionate kiss. Natty smiled as she held MC tight, inhaling that fresh citrus scent that gave way to the warm hint of nutmeg and sandalwood. To make it even more alluring, MC's body heat and sweat made it even stronger, making Natty's head swirl as she forgot MC's move on her earlier. He's smart on how to make it up to her with those smooth moves. What Natty didn't count on was the both of them parted rather hurriedly and tried to compose themselves when Lucan Brattleby cleared his throat.

Samantha Dale : Tom Ford's Mandarino di Amalfi

Why does he keep wearing that perfume?! Samantha is going to go nuts if MC wears that every time they cross paths. Her friends are saying she is going insane, or maybe she needs to plug her nostrils. One of her friends even teased the fact she might be attracted to MC just by scent alone. She rolled her eyes on that thought. What she didn't count was MC approaching her after class. Samantha is trying not to breath when MC approaches, but her nose betrays her. That teasing citrus, now laced with some jasmine and the slight spice of pepper made its way into her brain again. This time, the perfume was more... musky? Why oh why she was cursed with a sensitive nose. Please MC, be quick about it. Samantha had to pause for a bit when MC asked if she would like to go out with him. Her jaw dropped as her friends gasped, that one friend had that 'told you so' expression on her face. Samantha found herself nodding as MC kissed her hand, saying that he plans to take her to a nearby lemon farm for their first date. She will never admit it, but inside, she was screaming with glee.

[expecto-kedavra]

Leanna Turner

House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Hawthorn, Phoenix Feather, 9 3/4 inches, slightly yielding

Patronus: Unicorn

Likes: her man Tevita, learning stuff, exploring, nice goblins (Arn is her bestie)

Dislikes: bullies, learning stuff (lol), poachers, ashwinders, mean goblins

She is the ancient magic OC. She relishes and hates being the Hero of Hogwarts.

She’s very contradictory. She’s extremely talented but afraid to fully commit, and doesn’t always enjoy working hard.

She hates fighting but loves setting things right and doing the right thing.

Honestly, for a Ravenclaw she’s not always very bright. She’s smart, but doesn’t always make the right choice. Her and Seb are a dangerous combo.

Loves Hogwarts. She’s a half-blood, and was raised as a squib until her letter came. She loves all magical subjects, but tends to get bored quickly.

Everyone loves her, for the most part. She won over the school very quickly with her charm and wit.

Tevita (her boyfriend and another OC of mine) was assigned as her tutor at the beginning of the year. (Hella power couple) He tends to be the voice of reason.

She has a lot to learn, but she always means well.

[lokiinmediasideblog]

besides immortal thor are there any other comic depiction of loki you despise?

You mean "Ultimate Thor"? I went on a huge rant on that comic run.

I generally despise "Evil from Birth" narratives. Or the "we were right to torture you" kind of punitive justice. So that would be most of the Thor comics.The thing is, I don't think I hate comics!Loki, I like comics!Loki out of spite. Because the writers didn't want me to like him, but the narrative gave me bad vibes.

CW: Transphobic dogwhistles

I'm torn on Lady Loki because I find Loki interesting during that run (I love the interactions with Dr. Doom) and therefore don't hate them, but I FUCKING HATE that they wrote Loki stealing Sif's body. I hate how it's "justified" by dudebros and pseudo-feminists with "it's an allegory for rape" as if there hadn't been any rape in Thor comics before. The whole body thief thing is actually a transphobic dogwhistle in the same way that Silence of the Lamb's Buffalo Bill was: "A man wearing a woman's body/skin to seduce and manipulate other men." Can we get that retconned into Loki just shapeshifting rather than stealing Sif's body?

NVM, I KNOW WHICH RUN/DEPICTION I FUCKING HATE AS MUCH AS ULTIMATE THOR! It's Thor: Son of Asgard!!

CW: Sexual assault, magical roofies, Karnilla being a pedo, Loki being a creep, Amora and Sif also being creeps

I hate when Loki's written as "the creepy nerd lusting over the popular hot girl" (comics!Sif) or abusive/rapey husband (comics!Sigyn). Which is a bunch of comic runs. Like so:

I think the writing on "Son of Asgard" is terrible/cheesy(they have a chapter called "The Warriors Teen" *eyeroll*) and it's full of rapey plots. Loki is rapey (with Sif and colludes with Amora). Amora is rapey (with Thor). Karnilla is rapey (with Loki). Even Sif is rapey! (with Thor).

The plot is stupid. They go on some mindless quests as glorified poachers because Odin told them to do so, and relish in torturing and killing a poor dragon that was just minding its own business, among other things. Sif and Balder whine about Thor not giving them a say on agreeing to the quest despite following him over there. Fucking jackasses. Meanwhile Loki is doing stupid magic bullshit to impede on their quest from afar, justifying Sif's suspicions and hatred of Loki that would otherwise seem unjustified and ridiculous. IDK I hate when they justify over-the-top suspicion of "Loki told the dragon where we were" rather than "We were actively seeking the dragon for its scales because we're poachers." It's also used to justify over-the-top punishments for Loki with evil monologues and thought bubbles or lazily written magic bullshit. It also makes Asgard seem incredibly incompetent and stupid.

My thoughts exactly, Thor:

I also dislike how Sif is written. She's "masculine" but in the ways cishet men would find "hot". A scantily clad warrior with the supermodel physique constantly contorting in weird ways. Her personality revolves around her obsession with Thor and her suspicion/hatred of Loki. It's a crime to write a warrior woman so heterosexually. They made her go off about how she wishes to be gifted with a JEWEL from the shitty sand place. So, they all get swallowed by the sand (and Loki too because he was a dumbass and materialized in the location). They escape by not feeling anything because there's weird baby crystal things that seek emotions. Loki is captured by Karnilla restrained by a bunch of creepy hands in creepy places, and Karnilla kisses a teenage Loki. Loki absorbs her magic through the kiss and escapes.

Loki refuses to help Karnilla out of love for Odin. I'll admit this is kinda cute and can't believe they actually gave him a redeemable trait:

Thor just won't give up on those damned quests. It's ridiculous! Priorities!

Ridiculously, Karnilla antagonizes Thor by turning a whole lake into sand. An adult woman beefing with a bunch of teen poachers. He takes some sand from the lake and goes back to Asgard to find it under attack. Thor and co save the day, only for Thor to be shot with an arrow by Karnilla. Karnilla and Odin fight. Odin takes pity on her and spares her. Thor is saved by "the power of love" aka Sif's tears.

Karnilla takes Loki hostage:

Balder tries to sacrifice himself for Loki. Karnilla is conveniently weirded out by such a selfless act and vanishes. Odin makes a sword out of the shit they got from the quests, and hands it over to Balder for his brave sacrifice.

Frigga damn... "only son"...

Volstagg is sexist to Sif and Sif is fatphobic to Volstagg... damn these comics have a fatphobia problem among other things...

Sif beats his ass. Then challenges Thor who pulls her by the hair and wins (for a warrior, Sif is dressed in very inconvenient ways). Everyone is like "yes Thor, you beat the ONE GIRL" and Sif gets angry and broods.

We cut to Loki's schemes and hate of Sif:

My thoughts exactly, Amora. The cishet writers fumbled on writing these two (Sif and Loki). They should have been GNC queer besties.

When people tell me Loki was not queer-coded before the whole bodytheft subplot:

Amora and Loki plot against Sif because Amora wants Thor for herself and Loki wants Thor out of the way. Thor attempts to console Sif. They're about to kiss when Amora interrupts them, calls Sif a slut, and Sif bitchslaps her.

Thor breaks up the fight and tells Sif there was no need to bitchslap Amora. Sif gets angry and leaves. The next day, there's a new female student in the warrior training class, Brunhilde. Sif remarks that "She had to be blonde." Lol.

They show Sif's backstory as a former blonde. Loki cut her hair out of jealousy that she was in love with Thor. He regretted it and got her replacement hair. However, the hair turned from blonde to black and "marred" her beauty.. Thanks, I hate it and it makes me uncomfortable... Sif is insecure of her black hair and jealous of the other blonde girls at schools.

Brunhilde wonders if Thor has his own special weapon because Balder got one in the previous issue. Thor says not yet, but one day he will when he's worthy. Sif takes offense because she's jealous of Brunhilde and bitchslaps her like she did Amora. A very male-gazey fight ensues, and Sif gets yanked by the hair once again. Sif just cut your damn hair. Sif gets in trouble for starting shit and gets told to use the facilities at the sorcery school to keep them from fighting again. Amora shows up and plays with Sif's insecurities, but seriously, she has a point in Sif resorting to violence way too often and easily. And I am being made uncomfortable by "dark hair and deeper tan on a woman=masculine" in this comic.

Sif and Loki conspire to magically roofie Thor with a magic mirror.

Sif gets the mirror.

Amora petrifies Sif (so that she watches), and steals the magic mirror from her, using it to make Thor fall in love with her. Loki very creepily frees Sif from her spell and confesses she wanted to see Sif's heart broken because he hates how Sif can "See through him." I thought he was going to do much worse because it looks bad, the way he holds Sif, when I first read this.

Sif goes straight to attacking Amora in a male gazey fight again, and Thor breaks up the fight and shames her for starting shit so often. Brunhilde finds the bag that held the mirror, and asks Sif about it. Sif confesses she wanted to use the mirror on Thor because she was jealous of Brumhilde.

Loki and Amora can't return the mirror without the pouch. Loki is about to be like "Lol nothing ties me to this crime." But Brunhilde and Sif catch them and tell them they have the bag. They say they'll give them the bag if they revert the spell. Brunhilde breaks the mirror, Thor is no longer under the spell and is hurt because he expected that from Amora but not from Sif. Frigga tells Sif that the mirror doesn't count and Thor still has his kiss virginity intact. Sif apologizes to Thor and they kiss.

Then Thor's trying to lift Mjolnir, and lifts it a little off the ground. Thor goes see the Norns to see what stands between his faith. I don't get it. Comes back to Asgard under attack and Sif being kidnapped by Storm Giants. Thor lifts the hammer with the power of love and goes to rescue Sif.

The cover for the next issue makes Thor look like an anime boy:

Thor collapses a bridge some giants were on, and they fall. He yeets himself with the hammer into the castle.

Thor kills a bunch of giants, and the comic makes a callback to Sif's introduction where Thor saves her from Hela. Here, the giant struck a bargain with Hela to gain immortality, exchanging Sif for it.

He finds Hela, who is pissed Thor's escaped from her grasp before.

This reminds me of Thor Ragnarok:

Hela may not be Odin's daughter here, but this has Thor Ragnarok vibes:

This echoes Sif's first appearance where Thor offers his own life in exchange for hers.

Hela warns Thor that they'll meet again. Sif and Thor kiss and fly away.

Lol. I am such a hater I ended up prioritizing this ask over other posts.

[theoscarsproject]

Crocodile Dundee (1986). An American reporter goes to the Australian outback to meet an eccentric crocodile poacher and invites him to New York City.

In a lot of ways, this feels like two films in one - the first an outback romance that sees a foreign journalist embracing her sense of exploration and maybe a little romance too, and the second a slapstick, fish-out-of-water comedy that relishes in transphobic jokes and set-ups that border on sketch comedy (which makes sense given Paul Hogan's background). The first one is infinitely preferable, especially with Hogan and Kozlowski' genuine chemistry (which makes sense too given their affair on the set of this film), but the second one really drags it down. 5/10.

[teresiel]

idiomatically It’s been a hot minute, but I’m finally back to working on my Dragon Age as Trainers series!

Loghain was a chore and a bore, appropriately (sorry Loghain, the novels can only absolve you to such an extent and with such flimsy aplomb as to be awash with even MORE problems rather than anything cleansing). BUT this was nonetheless fun to adapt into a Pokemon-world concept. I envision him taking more of a crooked general/advisor/pseudo-tactician role amoung a military-tech-state complex. He was once an okay person if you could ignore that he was a bit of an incel after a fling with whom he had chemistry left him for an admittedly sick (affectionate) dude from a sick (derogatory) patriarchy/hegemony/whatever-the-fuck-Fereldan would be in contemporary times, toward which he could never quite stomach acting coniliatory.

ANYWAY team under the cut 

Nidoqueen was caught as an orphaned Nidoran in the forested countryside from where Loghain was once thrown after the untimely death of his mother, shortly prior to a Cold War breaking out. His mother caught sight of a Nidoran lingering near the property and - after seeking the advice of a local Ranger site - ended up rescuing the poor dear. While it remained unknown what happened to her family, his mother speculated that seasonal trophy-hunters that encroached steadily the area may have had some involvement. Nidoqueen is a bit of a symbol for Rowena, so you can extrapolate from there. She’s dignified, fierce, a bit solemn, and more than a little boring (sorry Rowena, calls it like I sees it). She is the Pokemon most likely to be present as Loghain surveys training, institutes policy changes, and monitors and enforces protocol. Her imposing status as the brute muscle behind Loghain isn’t quite accurate, but she relishes the authority it lends the otherwise difficult-to-respect Loghain.

Luxray was caught with the assistance of Maric, who was informed of the presence of the Shiny pokemon by previously-mentioned Trophy-Hunting trust-fund shlubs. The intrepid friends rescued the shiny Shinx (with proudly injured social connections aplenty, and with actual injury to the young poachers), who remained with Loghain after he took particular interest in tending to his wounds and reuniting him with his (sadly already diminshed) family. Luxray is prideful and impish, but knows that his self-imposed status as a symbol of Loghain’s credible micro-level ferocity and macro-level authority is something to be lauded and maintained, for both of their sakes. He enjoyes being pampered and is fond of Poke Puffs, Contests, and visiting open-air Parks where he can freely roam at a slow pace and people-watch with his surly partner.

Volcarona - Honestly folks, this was chosen for little more than the look of it, the concept of pairing it with Frosmoth, and for it’s Pokedex narrative gimmick of it swooping in  - awash in intimidating burning glory - to save forces at their lowest during a cold winter. It reminded me of Loghain and the Night Elves and their pivotal role at West Hill. Also, Loghain sucks the oxygen out of a room like them as well, don’t he?

Decidueye is a proxy for The Stolen Throne’s Night Elves and for Loghain’s role as a rouge-esque figural foil to Maric’s swordsmanship and Rowena’s paladin-style fighting. Loghain and Decidueye reinforce each others’ morbid sensibilities and pessimism, though neither would ever allow the other to be downtrodden; mulish critical thinking is strong gauntlet to be worn, provided it not fester into ponderous and maudlin brooding. (They still brood. A lot. But it’s reserved for the little things, like dirty boots, dull and tired days, and overly-energetic honorary nephews who you wouldn’t mind allowing to be killed...too dark?)

Frosmoth is a force that answers to no one but Anora. Merciless, fastidious, and nigh-omniscient, he serves his role as Loghain’s most subtle watchman and guard, efficiently and tidily. Some say there is naught but a encroaching and enveloping chill to be sensed before the heart is stopped. Anora thinks this is nonsense (how’d the story spread if Frosmoth’s ice is so ever-creeping and all-encompassing, hmmmm???) but will share with anyone but her father that she is aware of Frosmoth’s tendency to nurture those otherwise overlooked in preference of their duties, Frosmoth’s love for a midnight snack of ice cream and frozen Nanab Berries, and Frosmoth’s friendship with Indeedee, which includes such exciting shared-hobbies as overseeing which household chores are done and which need to be improved or which could serve to be met with some innovation. He is overly serious but is not anywhere near as stern as he projects, and has a tendency to let younger children get away with some tom-foolery, provided it serves a purpose of expanding their creative capacities or improving their reflexes.

Indeedee is the only Pokemon belonging to Loghain’s father that Loghain has kept on thourgh his later adult career. He initially served as as a key member of the Mac Tir family for his psychic abilities for therapeutic purposes, as well as physical therapy. He has polished those skills and is one of few friends in front of whom Loghain will allow himself to appear weak, exahausted, and emotionally wrecked. The loss of Loghain’s mother caused him to sublimate his frustrations and feeligs of hopelessness into strategic battles and mental contests, often where he would seemingly seek to lose. Loghain - at a loss - was thrilled when Rowena offered to finally offer the Pokemon some therapeutic services of his own. Better for it and seemingly vivified, Indeedee returned to his family with a new tendency to joke, cajole, or otherwise poke fun at or out of the oft-constipated Mac Tirs. Still, his humour belies pedantry in work and scrupulousness in hobby (he’s become quite an accomplished masseuse, recently, though his constant and increasingly harder practice of it has Loghain a bit scared).

[melting-morning-blues]

💕 ?

bellu, there are infinite anecdotes and memories i could share to express the parts of you i admire. there are moments where i read our texts, our reblog threads, our long comments, and just sit and muse, "isn't she just a breath of fresh air?"; a gale of multi-coloured dandelion seeds extending a hand, asking for an adventure, an escape to where our hearts truly yearn to go.

and it's kinda coincidental that i'm currently listening to higher by fifty fifty. "i can smile more honestly / when I talk to you / revealing my outfit of emotions," these simple lyrics encapsulates one of the many things i admire about you. it's almost effortless the way we converse, when our words, ideas, voices coalesce and it's simply our fingertips tapping in tandem with the pulse of adrenaline and relief. i could almost swim in the waves of passion, energy and love you send my way. i could settle down the seabed, nurture the unique corals you've planted, glide with the iridescent marine life that create harmony in the sometimes dissonant, sometimes uncertain, sometimes overwhelmed mind of yours.

you don't need to worry about whether the sun will reach your corals, whether they'll overcrowd, whether they feel too isolated, whether the sea creatures will clash, whether this ecosystem will fall apart. though these aren't something you can always keep under control, i assure you that there's beauty in the unpredictable, hope in unexpected opportunities. as you have inspired me with your open heart that's larger than the universe itself, i'll watch out for thunderstorms heading your way, float above the water to try looking out for those nosy, unwelcome poachers. sometimes, i'll dive underwater to meet you, bring some sunlight down to the seabed, remind you that's it's okay to take a break, relish in the songs wrapped inside bubbles. even when you're underwater, you can breathe. don't forget to let your mind breathe. 🫧🤍

[fic-history]

Fanfic 101: What on Earth am I Reading?

If you’re reading this post, you’re probably wondering what this “fan fiction” business is, and I don’t blame you for not knowing! Fanfiction, which will henceforth be referred to as fanfic or fic for sake of brevity, is not a traditionally public-facing practice. As defined by the Oxford Dictionary of Science Fiction, fanfiction is “fiction that uses characters or a fictional universe originally created by a professional author or for a television show, movie, etc”. Essentially, it’s when a fan of a certain piece of media writes a story using the world and characters from said media. 

Now that you’ve read that, you might be thinking “That’s a really broad definition, KP,” and you’d be absolutely right. Any TV show, movie, or book you can think of probably has a fan following (also known as a fandom), and as such probably has some fanfiction written about it. As much fanfiction as there is, online archives like FF.net and Archive of Our Own (AO3) use tagging systems that make it easy to find a specific kind of story from nearly any fandom, from BBC Sherlock smut to Jane and Mr. Darcy working in a coffee shop in 1993.

In his 1992 book Textual Poachers, Henry Jenkins classifies the 10 ways that an author may write fanfiction of a TV show or other piece of media:

Recontextualization: Fans often write short vignettes (“missing scenes”) which fill in the gaps in the broadcast [or other kind of] material and provide additional explanations for the character’s conduct; these stories focus on off-screen actions and discussions that motivate perplexing on-screen behavior.

Expanding the Series Timeline: Primary texts often provide hints or suggestions about the characters’ backgrounds not fully explored within the episodes. Fan writers take such tantalizing tidbits as openings for their own stories, writing about events preceding the series’ opening [or after the series has ended].

Refocalization: While much of fan fiction still centers on the series protagonists, some writers shift attention away from the programs’ central figures and onto secondary characters, often women and minorities, who receive limited screen time.

Moral Realignment: Some fan stories invert or question the moral universe of the primary text, taking the villains and transforming them into the protagonists of their own narratives.

Genre Shifting: Fans often choose to read the series within alternative generic traditions.

Cross Overs: [These] stories blur the boundaries between different texts.

Character Dislocation: [In these stories,] characters are removed from their original situations and given alternate names and identities.

Personalization: Fan writers also work to efface the gap that separates the realm of their own experience and the fictional space of their favorite programs. "Mary Sue" stories, which fit idealized images of the writers as young, pretty, intelligent recruits aboard the Enterprise, the TARDIS, or the Liberator, constitute one of the most disputed subgenres of fan fiction.

Emotional Intensification: Because fan reading practices place such an importance on issues of character motivation and psychology, fans often emphasize moments of narrative crisis. Fans relish episodes where relationships are examined, especially those where characters respond in a caring fashion to the psychological problems, professional turning points, personality conflicts, and physical hurts of other major characters. 

Eroticization: Fan writers, freed of the restraints of network censors, often want to explore the erotic dimensions of characters’ lives. Their stories transform the relatively chaste, though often suggestive, world of popular television into an erogenous zone of sexual experimentation.

Funny GIFs aside, not only does fanfiction cover almost every fandom you can think of, but almost every scenario too! Please let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s anything you think I forgot to add!

Happy reading,

-KP

[wordsbyparker]

A Moonlit Dilemma (Short Story) by Rhonda Parker - October 21, 2021

Originally published at: https://www.wordsbyparker.com/blog/story-a-moonlit-dilemma/

Listen to the full cast audio narration at: https://youtu.be/drSuf0xAJp0

The sound of the poachers crashing through the forest echoed behind Mason. He managed to stay ahead of them but he had a feeling his luck was running out.

Mason had been enjoying a quiet night in the woods, a rare treat for a werewolf in the modern age of technology with fewer wild spaces. His family had lived in the area for generations, and his roots ran deep. His grandfather left him a sizable expanse of wilderness outside of town, covered in a lush forest and teeming with wildlife.

The young man had carved out a small habitat deep within it, a space where he could safely run free and enjoy connecting with nature every full moon. The sanctity of being on private land gave him a sense of security, and Mason was grateful that he hadn’t cleared any land for a homestead. The forest became his refuge.

Mason was careful. He didn’t hunt humans, hadn’t even thought about it since he started living with his wolf nature a few years ago. The forest had plenty of game to keep him occupied and fed. While he owned a car, he never brought it to the woods. No need to bring anything that could lead anyone back to him.

This suited him just fine. Mason had been an avid hiker before, and now that his physical characteristics and abilities were enhanced he could pack his gear and walk from home. The challenge and the exercise were good for him in a lot of ways.

Then the poachers showed up, a blight on the forest and Mason’s monthly excursions. They were unpredictable, less prone to staying in a general area, and better at stealth than a regular hunter. They didn’t want to be caught, so Mason felt like he needed to keep his guard up constantly, often exhausting both halves of himself.

Except for tonight. The autumn wind ran invisible fingers through his chestnut brown fur, gentle and loving. Mason relished the feel of it, took comfort in Mother Nature’s touch. He’d kept enough composure to avoid howling, but he did sigh in contentment. If nothing else, being a werewolf fed his lifelong love for the outdoors in ways his humanity couldn’t.

Unfortunately he wasn’t able to stop the canine roar of a sneeze that escaped his snout. The sound felt like it echoed into the night.

“What was that?” a voice cut into the darkness.

Mason froze, listening and sniffing. Poachers. Once he had determined where they were, he bolted to get some distance between himself and his pursuers.

As he cleared the forest proper, Mason could smell as well as hear a large group of humans. “Great,” he thought. “More poachers?” Then he caught the scent of a multitude of foods, heard the sounds of laughter and playful screams. The town’s Halloween Festival. He forgot all about it.

Now he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Deal with the ignorant humans at the festival, or the ones in the woods that thought he was a good trophy? The odds weren’t in his favor against the poachers.

He didn’t have a choice. Mason steeled himself as best as he could and entered at the edge of the festival grounds.

The smells and sounds were intriguing outside of the fairgrounds, but once inside his senses went into overload. His human brain tried to tell his wolf brain that everything was okay, but animal instinct fought with common sense and reason. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Once he regained some control, Mason looked around. Most of the people at the festival were in costumes of varying intensity, from basic getups to full-blown ensembles. No one would notice a stray dog in all of this commotion. Right? He shook himself off and started wandering the festival.

Mason usually avoided humans during the week of the full moon. While he knew he could maintain control, it wasn’t wise to risk harming someone. Now he had an up close view of the people from his town. It was entertaining, to say the least. People laughing, joking with each other, comparing costumes and enjoying themselves in general. A few people tried to coax him over with “C’mere, boy” or even a treat, but he played skittish and kept moving.

As he neared the opposite end of the fairgrounds, Mason raised his head and sniffed the air. The kaleidoscope of scents inside the area hadn’t changed much. The poachers might be nearby, but the crowd at the festival should have obscured any tracks he made and thrown them off his trail. At least he hoped it had. He should be able to sneak out of the festival and-

“PUPPY!”

What the-?

Mason yelped as something collided with him, making him stumble back a step or two. He felt something wrap around his neck, and he twisted and pulled away from whatever it was. Once he got his bearings again he looked at what hit him.

An adorable strawberry blonde girl stood there, draped in a purple satiny dress with puffs of pink tulle, her sparkly plastic crown askew. A smile lit up her face as she reached out and patted his head with the awkward roughness of a child. “Puppy,” she said, a thick coating of sweetness and adoration on her voice. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked at him.

Mason thought for a second of growling at her, then decided he didn’t want to scare her. But how was this kid not scared of him?

Oh boy, he thought. This is what it’s come to.

Mason sat down, wagged his tail, and panted. He felt like an idiot.

The little girl, however, was thrilled. “Good puppy,” she cooed as she stroked his fur. She couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4 years old, that age where all animals are trustworthy playmates. Mason wasn’t about to destroy that illusion for her. He endured the attention for as long as he could, then started to walk away. But the little girl followed.

“Come back, puppy!”

Mason tried running a little faster, which only made the little girl more determined to catch him. “Wait! Come back!”

Where are her parents? Mason thought. He didn’t see any adults or teenagers that looked like her family members. Given that the little girl seemed precocious, he had a feeling that she might have slipped away unnoticed. Well, I can’t leave her by herself. And being a pet is a good cover. Might as well make the best of this.

The two of them started walking around the fairgrounds. The little girl reached over to pet Mason every so often, and spoke to him a few times, but mostly she exuded the wonder of a child her age. Mason laughed to himself as he kept a close eye on her. Something would catch her attention, and she went after it with gusto. His protective instinct was out in full force.

Mason was also keeping an eye out for the poachers, making sure they hadn’t entered the fairgrounds. The varied scents of the festival hadn’t changed. So far, so good.

“Well, hey there, little girl,” an oily voice cooed.

Mason snapped his head around. A man dressed rather shabbily was walking towards him and the girl. His salt and pepper beard was scraggly, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed recently. Something about the look in his eye set the werewolf’s fur on end, and he knew this was not a man to be trusted. A low growl rumbled in his throat.

The man gave Mason a look, as if he thought the large dog wasn’t a threat. “Easy, boy. I’m just talking to your friend.” Mason put himself between the girl and the man. Her fingers gripped Mason’s fur, and he sensed her fear.

The man pulled a piece of beef jerky from his pocket and held it out to Mason. “Want a treat, boy? Huh?”

Mason responded with a warning – a loud growl, slightly bared teeth. He wasn’t going to let him get anywhere near the girl. He might not hunt humans as a general rule, but he wouldn’t hesitate attacking one to protect her.

The man met the werewolf’s gaze, and he stopped short. Mason felt the girl’s grip get tighter and heard a slight whimper escape her throat. He snapped at the man, flashing his teeth, saliva dripping from his canines. He dared the interloper to move any closer. His muscles were tensed, ready to spring.

The man realized that continuing to antagonize the dog was a very bad idea. “Okay, okay…” he said as he started to back away. Once Mason couldn’t smell him anymore, he relaxed, sitting down and wagging his tail. That seemed to be the little girl’s cue to release her death grip on his fur.

“He was scary.” Mason nodded, then remembered he was pretending to be a dog. He did his best goofy dog imitation, complete with his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

The little girl hugged his neck, and once she let him go he led her back to the main crowd and hopefully to safety. Now the little girl kept close to Mason’s side, never letting him out of her sight. Sometimes her tiny fingers would wrap themselves in his fur again, unsure of herself, and he tried to keep reassuring her the best that he could.

The crowd was starting to thin out, the guests exiting at the main gates. Mason once again looked for any sign of the poachers, sniffing the air in larger gulps. Until he got out of the fairgrounds proper he couldn’t be sure they were gone, but nothing suggested they were nearby.

“Have you seen my little girl? She’s about this tall…”

Mason turned his head towards the sound of the voice. A woman who looked like a larger version of his charge, minus the princess costume, was asking someone if they had seen her daughter.

As they got closer, Mason barked to get the woman’s attention. She turned in the direction of the sound and relief washed over her face. “Oh, thank God – there you are!” She scooped the little girl up into her arms and held her tight. Mason smiled to himself. Mission accomplished.

“Hi Mommy! I found a puppy!” she said brightly.

“I can see that, Stephanie,” her mother said as she gave Mason a wary expression. He turned the friendly dog look up to eleven. Her face softened. She smiled at him as she set the girl down, and the family resemblance was clear.

“He’s a good puppy. Isn’t he pretty?” Mason closed his eyes as she scratched behind his ears.

Stephanie’s mother roughed up the fur on his head. “Thank you for taking care of her.” She looked at her daughter. “Come on, sweetie. Time to go home.”

“Can we take the puppy?” Mason froze. How was he going to get out of this?

Stephanie’s mother knelt down. “No, Stephanie. He probably belongs to someone nearby. You wouldn’t want to take someone’s dog away from them, would you?”

The little girl looked downcast. “No.”

“Okay, then. Say bye bye to the puppy, sweetie.”

Stephanie flung her little arms around Mason’s shaggy neck, snuggling into his fur. He closed his eyes, wishing he could return the hug or at least say something to her. He thought about licking her cheek, but he wasn’t truly a dog, plus that would be weird. He settled for resting his chin on her shoulder, and his sigh ruffled her hair.

After a few moments, the little girl let him go. “Bye puppy,” she said with more than a tinge of sadness in her voice. “I miss you.” She took her mother’s hand and left Mason sitting there.

The whine in his throat caught him off guard. Mason wasn’t expecting to miss the little tyke. He would remember her name, though. Stephanie. The little girl who wasn’t afraid of the big bad wolf.

[yuanzhixinling]

(中英版，Chinese & English

versions)

《戒为无上菩提本》

学佛其实最重要的就是守戒，这就是为什么佛陀在涅槃前告诉众弟子要“以戒为师”。

守戒等于让你不会犯错，守戒的人才会修成功。在生活上守戒，家庭平安；在工作上守戒，工作顺利。

因为守戒的人，会戒贪心。有一个字，听起来很难听，叫“偷”。长这么大了谁还会偷东西？其实在我们生活当中，不守戒的人处处会偷：网上偷看黄色的东西；吃饭偷吃对身体不利的东西，医生说不要再吃了，却偷偷地吃，最后吃出病来。

师父讲一个真实的事情。有一个人过去吃惯了丰盛的晚宴，有天不舒服，进医院一查，查出来血糖高得不得了，而且根本降不下去。在住院期间，医生不给他吃大餐，天天肚子饿得、嘴巴馋得不得了。有一天实在嘴巴馋得不行，晚上偷偷从医院逃出来，在外面大吃一顿，回去一查血糖飙升，第二天就走掉了。这不叫偷食吗？人不但会偷看，偷听，而且会偷吃，这些都会给人造成很多的烦恼。

从一个小小的偷，偷到后来连人都敢偷，到最后变成偷人，最后家庭矛盾激化，男的把女的杀死，或女的把男的告了，这就是不守戒的后果。

对修心人来讲，我们到庙里拜佛，带去的水果，你都不可以随便拿走。因为你供给了菩萨，法师没有同意你拿走，你如果拿了，就叫偷盗；等于你今天送给别人的礼物，你偷偷地把礼物从人家家里拿出来，这不叫偷吗？

- 2021年师父每日白话佛法｜2021年6月15日30 (节选）

THE PRECEPTS ARE THE FOUNDATION OF UNSURPASSED ENLIGHTENMENT

Master Jun Hong Lu: In Buddhist practice, observing the precepts is of the utmost importance. This explains why Buddha told His disciples, “Treat the precepts as your teacher” before He entered Nirvana.

By observing the precepts, you avoid committing mistakes. Only those, who can observe the precepts, will be accomplished in their spiritual cultivation.

If you apply the precepts in your daily life, your family will be safe and well. If you can do so at work, your career will be smooth sailing. Observing the precepts allows one to break free from greed.

There is one word that is hardly pleasing to the ear: Steal. You may wonder, is it possible for grown-ups to still steal? The truth is, there is a high chance for those who do not observe the precepts to commit stealing in all respects.

For example, they may steal glances at some pornographic materials on the internet; despite doctor’s advice, they steal bites of food they are not supposed to consume and end up being ill.

Let me tell you a true story about this particular person, who had grown accustomed to having sumptuous dinner. One day, he fell ill and got himself admitted to a hospital and found out that his blood sugar level was abnormally and stubbornly high.

During his hospital stay, he was prohibited from consuming sizable meals. Needless to say, he felt hungry daily and had a hard time curbing his longing for a hearty meal.

Unable to hold back any longer, one night, he sneaked out of the hospital and made his way to a restaurant to relish a sumptuous meal. Upon his return to his hospital bed, his blood sugar level shot through the roof, and by the next day, he was pronounced dead. Isn’t this an act of stealing?

Humans commit stealing in many aspects, including, peeping, eavesdropping and sneaking food which bring a lot of troubles to themselves.

Starting from pilfering something minor, one may eventually have the audacity to even snatch another person from their family. They are the ‘spouse poachers’ who are responsible for family conflicts that can escalate to the point where one partner kills the other or leads to legal action. These are some of the potential dire consequences for not observing the precepts.

For Buddhist practitioners, you are not supposed to bring back the fruits that you bring to the temple as offerings at your whims and fancies. This is because the fruits are offerings to the Bodhisattvas and hence, if you take them without the approval of the monastic of the temple, you are considered to have committed an act of stealing. This is just like stealthily bringing home a gift given to another person – isn’t this stealing?

Source: Master Jun Hong Lu’s Daily Buddhism In Plain Terms, 15 June 2021

Translated by Oriental Radio Practice Centre (Singapore).

Proofread by 2OR Secretariat

[yeoldes]

SIR GUY OF GISBORNE note : this iteration of guy is made with mine and marty's marian + robin in mind.

NAME : Guy of Gisborne NICKNAME(S) : None overly affectionate, many in the region refer to him as the Sheriff's Hound, at risk of their own tongues. TITLE(S) : Sir GENDER : Cis Man, He/Him/His ORIENTATION : Bisexual, though deeply closeted about it in all universes AGE : 20s - 30s ( VERSE DEPENDENT ) DATE OF BIRTH : September 23 PLACE OF BIRTH : Likely somewhere in Lancashire, on the small farm his father tended

RESIDENCE : Most often Nottingham Town, though the Sheriff did at one point reward him with some small manor not far from there. EDUCATION : Very little before the age of 10, after which he was fostered by Baron Fitzwalter and raised to be a knight.

MOTHER : Dwynwen ( DECEASED ) FATHER : Warin ( DECEASED ) SIBLING(S) : None but a sister who came stillborn SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S) : None CHILDREN : None OTHER : Lady Marian Fitzwalter ( CHILDHOOD FRIEND, ALIVE ), Baron Robert Fitzwalter ( BENEFACTOR, ALIVE ), Sheriff William deLacey ( MENTOR, ALIVE ), Robin Hood ( ENEMY, ALIVE )

Born to a common English peasant and a Welsh mother, the world seemed bent against young Guy from the start. From his mother he learned Welsh, and the shame of being so in England. From his father he learned how the flat of a man's hand felt against his face. He loved the one and hated the other, and it was a cruelty that both should be taken from him when only one deserved it. When fever claimed their lives, he was left to serve a Lord Clifford. He was not a kind master, but Guy was not starving. What more could he ask for?

It was a visit from Lord Clifford's brother-in-law, the Baron of Arlingford, that he received some salvation. Taken with the young man's apparent resembleance to his recently deceased son, the Baron offered to foster him as his own. Clifford consented ( what did he care? ) and so the young Guy, then just 10 years of age, was packed off to Arlingford Castle.

It was there he first met young Lady Marian, the Baron's daughter, who was then only six. The whole of the castle doted on her and though the Baron treated Guy as he would have his own son, there was a clear favorite.

It was during this time he made the acquaintance of the Sheriff of Nottingham while sent into town on an errand for the Baron. The man took him under his wing, so to speak, gave him the attention he so relished from the Baron and - when it came time to give him the title of Sir Guy, played no small part in helping to procure the appropriate documents that placed him as a member of the nobility. Thus, plain Guy became Sir Guy of Gisborne.

By this point, the old Baron was of failing health, and though he knew the Sheriff coveted the man's lands for his own, he kept still out of loyalty and love for the Lady Marian. It was through marriage to her that he hoped to further legitimize himself among his new peers, who looked down upon him and his dubious heritage. He further applied himself to the Sheriff and became, to some, no better than a dog - he brought in poachers, he collected tax, or exacted punishment on those who could not pay.

His ultimate test would come in the form of an outlaw known as Robin Hood. The man's constant evasion and Guy's burgeoning obsession at capturing him ( as well as the Sheriff's redoubled cruelty ) would also seem to be souring the relationship between he and the Lady Marian.

[crimsononiarataki-archive]

While the Oni wasn't one who relished in destruction and death, he understood the need to defend oneself should it be required. Which is exactly what he'd done with the Yokai Poachers. The leader of that band of morons was behind bars, likely awaiting his interrogation so they could find the location of where the younger Yokai they'd managed to snatch.

"What do the mortals say... oh right. Do stupid shit, win stupid prizes,"

He understood how the fear reflected in an opponents eyes could be something to relish in, he'd found himself doing so with the leader of the ring of idiots who thought he looked like 'fun'.

"The leader of the poachers damn near pissed himself when I defeated his gaggle of idiots, and then captured him."

" That, and my lack of a Vision and Delusion. So those insects think I'm easy to gang up on and then pay the price with their lives. Quite funny, really. "

With a sinister grin, the puppet puts a hand on his waist.

" Their fear is utterly hilarious to see. "

[puppyexpressions]

5 Dog Breeds Known for Howling

Alaskan Malamute

Wohoo! I’m the headliner for this group. Although I’m usually not described as a barky breed, I am among dogs who howl. My reasons are sometimes obvious; other times my howling may seem mysterious to you. Sometimes, we howl to communicate, expressing our emotions. Now and then we enjoy howling together. The largest sled dog, I’m named after the Mahlemut tribe of the Arctic. I assisted in Inuit hunts, pulled butchered carcasses, moved supplies and defended camps. Explorers such as Admiral Richard Byrd in Antarctica employed my forefathers on sled teams. Although we work with people, we also tend to make independent judgment calls. Consequently, we sometimes howl simply because we feel like it.

Shetland Sheepdog

I’m frequently listed on vocal breed lists, but here I’ve been promoted to the howling category, too. Ah yes, I’m an over-achiever! We were bred in the Shetland Islands, where people needed small, rugged dogs to herd livestock, protect gardens from livestock and work with humans. Sometimes, my ancestors stayed with the sheep on remote sections of the island, barking away big birds to protect the lambs. These days, our reliable barking (which may segue into a lovely howl) guarantees we’ll ace our jobs as watchdogs and companions.

Bloodhound

I’m guessing you recognize me by my facial folds and saggy skin, but my howling is noteworthy, too. Celebrated for my stellar sense of smell, my breed’s origins are aristocratic; we were favorites of European nobles. Gentry used my forefathers to catch poachers, and law enforcement used us for tracking. Sometimes mistakenly pictured as lazy on a porch, we’re actually eager for a hunt, hike or creative vocalizing. Listen carefully: my baying and howling is often extraordinarily melodious. Just don’t bother looking for a volume switch. We have wonderful minds of our own.

Siberian Husky

We were developed thousands of years ago by the Chukchi people to pull sleds. Social and strong, we’re highly adaptable to weather extremes. My double coat offers protection from both cold and heat. During cold arctic winters, I dig for warm spots. In summer, I may dig for cool spots (maybe smack dab in the middle of your garden!). For me, life’s a nonstop adventure. I’m an escape artist when exploration beckons. Along with digging and seeking adventure, howling comes naturally to me. I howl for many reasons, including saying hello, bemoaning your absence, celebrating my existence, and relishing in friendship.

American Eskimo Dog

While we’re honored to be included with renowned howlers like the Siberian and Malamute, we weren’t bred by northern Native Americans at all, but rather by German immigrants. We’re companion dogs, excelling at charming our humans. We’re more likely seen competing in agility than pulling sleds. Developed for a clever personality and sprightliness, some of my ancestors even performed in circuses. Smart, devoted and yet self-governing, we’re still entertaining families today. We’re also a solid, and oftentimes well-voiced, watchdog. And yes, the cleverest among us add howling to our vocal antics.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Local Teenager has Trippy Dream and Realizations About Family Importance, Family of Local Geniuses not Aware of how Genius they Are, Deceased Poacher not very Smart, Attacks Local Ghost Hunters, Local Family Discusses the Importance of Failsafes

Voices, vaguely familiar and carrying warmth called out to him.  They called his name, the sound distant and irrelevant, so small it is lost to the hearts of stars singing deep beneath the soil.  Lost to the blooming nebulas staining the dark sky with color, miles upon miles of light and rivers of fire and the promise of something new.  Danny can almost hear the words and language they speak; something so close, so distant, something he has never known -- but they ring with such magnificent, terrible truth that he thinks, maybe he has always known them. Maybe they have always lived inside him, alongside the bones. These melodies, these words, that burn with such ferocious clarity that if he just spoke them aloud then the far would become near and he could reach out and pluck the stars from the sky and cradle them in his hands.

Danny woke up in his bed, surrounded by the warm press of his friends.  The music of his dreams fading to the farthest and darkest reaches of his mind and leaving Danny grasping at nothing for them.  So instead of the music he could barely hear the faintest notes of, Danny focused on his friends. His ears had grown so capable that with some focus he could hear even their heartbeats, and at the moment he was glad.  His friends’ pulses were a reassuring sound, as much as the feeling of them pressed against his body and breathing right next to him on either side - reassurance that they were truly there.

Slipping between the rhythmic dances of their ever vibrating molecules, Danny got out of the bed and landed on his feet near silently.  A glance at the clock told him it was 7:10 AM and Danny was beyond glad that it was Saturday. Holding in a yawn, he walked straight to the bathroom, did his routine, and headed downstairs in just his binder and boxers, as everyone in the household had seen him in already.

Or so he thought.  There was a woman in a purple suit with a tie and curly hair sitting in one of the chairs in his living room, holding up an electronic recorder.  And his parents and sister were on the couch, everyone fully dressed. And staring at him. In his underwear. Considering he just let loose a string of swears therein, he hoped the lady didn’t speak Mandarin.

Three minutes later Danny came down in a purple shirt bearing the FMA logo on it and some sweat pants.  “Uh, hi?”

“Danny, I told you about this interview already,” Jazz said through grit teeth.  “This is Souda Ayodele from Genius magazine.” A quick look on the second layer of everything showed that her aura was one of angry beige bees.

Danny turned to stare at the reporter.  “Hi there.” Ms. Ayodele waved back, and Danny walked past the entire event to the kitchen.  “Eggs, or Cereal?” Danny hummed, before catching his mother’s voice pointing out that her focus was ghost hunting.  “Oh, this will be hilarious.” Grabbing cereal, a bowl, and milk, Danny used his intangibility to speed up getting everything together and grabbing a spoon.  He was on the couch in time to hear Jazz claim that ghost hunting was a hobby.

“What they’re really involved in is inventing.”  Jazz smiled, trying to steer the conversation to somewhere safe and normal.

“True, we do invent a majority of the time.  I’ve personally worked on improving the power sources for all of our things around Fentonworks.  Though, we do mechanical engineering as well,” Mom said as Danny ate his cereal.

Dad pulled out one of their holographic projectors and hit the button to let it float.  “I have a full inventory of our inventions right here actually! For instance-”

“Dr. Fenton” Ayodele said, clearly having been here long enough to know that if she didn’t just interrupt then Dad would keep talking.  “Pardon the interruption, but is that...device, um...floating?"

Dad and Mom blinked, looking at each other. Even Danny and Jazz cocked their heads at the question. Their parents had been toying around with hover engines for years, what was the big deal about that?

"Well, yes," Mom began. "That's a patented Fenton Gravity Inverter."

"And...how much can your...um, Gravity Inverter lift?" The reporter asked again.

"Approximately one metric ton, depending on the model." Dad shrugged. "But the Gravity Inverter is only a small part of the FentonWorks itinerary, such-”

"I'm sorry, but just to confirm: your laboratory has successfully created a device which can lift a ton of weight into the air without the energy requirements being prohibitive?" The reporter asked finally.

"Yes," Mom explained slowly as if talking to a child. "It's a relatively simplistic application of physics. Both Danny and Jazz, our children, have been building them for us for years while my husband and I focused on more advanced applications of our research. The Gravity Inverter is, quite literally, 'kids stuff.' In fact, I think Danny built the model that we eventually decided on using for the Fenton Holoprojector."

“A waste of an afternoon since I coulda been working on my paints,” Danny muttered around his cereal.

Ayodele turned to the kids fully.  “Mr. and Ms. Fenton, is what your parents saying true?"

Danny shrugged, clearing his throat as he nodded. "Ah, sure. I mean, those things are pretty easy, I could almost build one in my sleep nowadays.  I’m even using one for a side project I’m doing with a friend. They're not like Physics Cancelers or anything, right Jazz?"

"I guess they're pretty easy," Jazz shrugged, uncomfortable with being the center of attention. "Mom and dad only ask us to work with the safe stuff anyway. None of this is too complicated." Jazz turned to her parents, "If you're using the Model II that Danny built for the Projector, why did you want me to put together a Model VI last week?”

Mom smiled, "Oh, that's for the Specter Speeder, sweetie. We'll be showing that off a little later.  At any rate, though, we would like to get on with the demonstration now. Jack, honey, if you would?"

“Rightio Mads!”  Dad pulled out a remote from his pocket and a projection of an oblong, missile-like object coated in shiny metal and streamlined with a flaming F decal on both sides.  The projection spun in the air at Dad’s press of a button.

"The Fenton Ghost Zone Probe," Mom began, “When finished, will be launched into the Ghost Portal and take numerous measurements including temperature, ecto-thermography, radiospectronomy, and more...of course, this will include video and audio data!"

“Did you say… Ghost Portal?”  The woman looked remarkably uneased by the implications of there being a ghost portal, which was understandable.  Danny wasn’t a fan of the fact himself. Just realizing how easily he slid through matter without even a second thought had Danny shuddering.

“Yup!  We can’t exactly show ya that one just yet,” Dad said with a sigh.  “We didn’t prepare for a presentation proper. We can, however, describe to you exactly how it works!”

And so Dad did just that and Danny tuned him out, eating his cereal since he’d heard this all before about six times.  Instead, he focused on the look of mounting horror on Jazz’s face and counted the seconds before she interrupted Dad again.

“The portal isn’t what we’re here to talk about, Dad!”  Wow, a full 36 seconds. Danny was impressed. “Can we talk about your work in energy?  A self-regenerating energy source?”

“Ectoplasm, Jazz.”  Danny pointed with his spoon.  “They’re converting some of the nuclear batteries to use reactions with ectoplasm instead of the usual stuff.”

“Nuclear… batteries?”  The poor reporter looked so lost and Danny had to wonder why.  Did he say something about ghosts? Well beyond ectoplasm but everyone knew ghosts were made of ectoplasm.  “Do the two of you work at a nuclear facility?”

“No?”  Mom frowned.  “We have nuclear batteries in our ghost hunting technology.”

“The entire facility is powered by a reactor under the labs.”  Danny rolled his eyes. “And solar panels on the roof and a backup geothermal generator.  Actually, all of our windows are solar panels too. I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad are just looking for ways to replicate those effects with ectoplasm?”

“Like we told you, Danny, it’s far more efficient in storage and output of energy than any material we’ve found on earth or any other dimension.”

“I know Mom, I just… I dunno, expected something new?”  Danny shrugged and slurped up the milk from his now-empty bowl, relishing in Jazz’s glare.  “Well, I’m gonna be upstairs having fun.” It was then that Danny spotted Tucker and Sam on the stairs, Sam in her black jeans and a Dumpty Humpty shirt she left last time she stayed over and Tucker in a button-up of Danny’s.  “Guys, c’mon, ignore the interview we’ve got funner stuff to do.”

“That’s not a word, Danny.”  Sam rolled her eyes. “This explains why English teachers hate you.”

“Oh please,” Danny chuckled as he headed into the kitchen, waiting for Sam and Tucker to grab their breakfast.  “The teachers love me. Lancer’s just a pain.”

“Dude,” Tucker said as he grabbed a bag of bacon bits like they were chips and started eating.  “You guys have nuclear reactors in your house?”

“Well not in this house specifically but yeah,” Danny shrugged.  “Did you think we were on the city’s power grid or something?”

“Actually honey we’re supplying power to the whole town,” Mom called out, displaying that all mothers were supernatural entities that could hear anything.

“Huh.  Well, there ya go.��  Danny shrugged and headed to and up the stairs.  Sam and Tucker soon followed, Sam holding a bowl full of fruit.  “Did you put that there yesterday?”

“Yes, you need healthier food in this house, Danny - also why am I only just learning that you guys power the entire town?”  Sam was scowling at him, and Danny wasn’t sure what he’d done this time.

“Because I only just found out?”

“What did you mean by This house, Danny?”  Tucker sat on Danny’s bed while Sam got into his desk chair.  “Do you guys have more than one house?”

“Yeah, FentonWorks is the entire block.”  Judging by his friends’ expressions, Danny hadn’t told them this.  “I guess it never came up?” Danny held up a game disc. “Did you think I built our HorrorStations in my room?”  Danny slid the disc into the hand made console, grabbed his controller, and sat next to Tucker.

Before Tucker could respond, Danny felt a chill run up his spine, into his lungs and past his lips and he looked around on the second realm, but he was too late.  The robot Sam had described appeared, right behind Danny, arm aimed point-blank at him. A net shot out and tangled around Danny’s body, throwing him off the bed and into his own console.  In seconds, all three of them were bound in blue nets. “Hello, Ghost Child.”

“Who are you?”  Danny arched a brow.  He needed a moment to pull that power of brilliant, life granting stars into his muscles.  If he transformed inside the house for a fight his parents would not only notice but come up and see his ghost form instead of him.

“I am Skulker,” the robot said, holding up a holographic projection of a cage filled with green abominations unto all gods Danny could think of.  “A collector of things rare and unique. And you, ghost child, are that and more.” Skulker laughed, far more dramatically than he deserved to, and took a step, Danny’s rocket cracking and shattering into pieces.

“That’s my fucking rocket!”  Green fire filled Danny’s veins and he tore the net off of himself, rising to put some dents in the robot.  But when he reached into himself proper, that ice-cold void, heatless and full of lights that no other human being could ever claim to see, he was burned and staggered backward.  “I built that! Just like this!” The Wrist Ray™ struck Skulker in the chest, burning a hole in him, and Danny felt that fire drain out of him into the weapon.

Sam and Tucker behind him used their own wrist rays to cut through the nets, and Sam’s shot from her crouch on the ground sailed over Skulker’s ducking head, leaving a dent in Danny’s wall.  Skulker hit a button on his wrist and the nets began to snap and crackle. Danny reached out and snatched Tucker away before he could get zapped, and kicked the net away from Sam’s feet. He let go just fast enough that neither of them felt the shocks when they raced up into his body and forced his every muscle to tense up - nerves ablaze with screams that he couldn’t make.

Tucker raised his Wrist Ray ™  but Skulker shot it off of his wrist and he yelped.  “Holy shit!”

“Come now, ghost boy, I expected this to be far more of a challenge.  And yet here you are, easily cowed by the merest targeting of your little friends?”  Skulker’s words barely reached Danny’s ears. All he could hear was the rushing of his blood and pain.  Just as the current died down, Danny’s vision blacked out when Sam’s Wrist Ray shot missed the netting itself and hit his foot instead.

The door opened with a bang.  “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SON!”  BOOM Skulker was blasted back by Dad’s bazooka into the wall, and Danny’s vision slowly returned to him.  “Jasmine, take your brother to the infirmary! Kids, get out of here!”

Skulker launched a net at Dad but Mom came to the rescue with her own cannon fire.  It struck Skulker right in the net launcher and ripped off a piece of paneling on his arm.  With a snarl, Skulker took in his surroundings and reached down to grab something purple, before fading from sight and quickly vacating Danny’s range of extra senses.

And soon that didn’t matter because Danny was being rushed down to the infirmary and he could hear Sam and Tucker telling his parents what had happened, ignoring the reporter entirely.  Letting out a cough, Danny turned to Jazz and flashed a grin. It felt more like a grimace. “Hey, I stopped them from embarrassing you in that interview right?”

“You’re a disaster, little brother.”  Jazz took a breath and carded a hand through his hair like she always did when he was hurt.  “We’re gonna get you better, and when you’re better you’re gonna explain to me what the hell you were thinking.”

“Sure thing, Spazz.”  Danny chuckled and sighed.  “I think I need a nap.”

Danny reaches out, eyes transfixed on the distant hearts of stars. One whisper is all it needs. He could do it. He can. If he could just shape the cold clay of his lips.

Danny opened his eyes to the sight of Jazz, Tucker, Sam and his Mom all sitting around the infirmary and doing things.  Sam was looking through one of her scrapbooks while Tucker did something on one of his PDAs - didn’t Skulker fly off with the other one?  Jazz was reading a book about trauma and Mom was checking something on a holographic display. Everything was unnervingly quiet, and for a moment Danny considered going back to sleep.  Rare and unique.  Enough of a freak that some ghost would come hunting me down just to say to the rest of the Underworld ‘hey look, I caught the weirdo!’ regardless of who got in his way or what I have to say about it.  Horologium, with how I rip apart ghosts that piss me off bad enough, I might as well be one of the weird Things that he was showing off in his little hologram.

Instead of dwelling on how his very fucked up existence that shouldn’t have been was putting his family in danger now, he sat up.  His muscles were sore and stiff, and he let out a pained groan from the action, but Danny was at least relieved that he could move at all.  “Okay, remind me never to touch another live wire again.” He saw his friends wince and shrugged before wincing again himself.

“Danny!  Oh, honey don’t try to move too much, alright?”  Mom came to his side in the blink of an eye, checking him over for any signs of electrical burns.  “Oh Danny, baby, are you alright?”

“I’m about as sore as Zephyrus was about Hyacinthus, but I think I’ll be alright.  Though, I’d love to never have to deal with that again.” Danny let out a sigh and laid his head back. I’d also love to be done with this getting better thing.  What was it that Mom and Dad said about ectoplasm? It can absorb electromagnetic energy?   Danny closed his eyes and reached out for the dangling threads of buzzing whines in the lights and sockets, pulling it into himself clumsily.  He bit back a yelp and felt his arm practically convulse when the electricity went the wrong way. Note to self, don’t try that in human form again.  Human bodies are complicated.

“Flex your muscles slowly and methodically, Danny,” Tucker said.  “Gotta get your blood flowing. And check for nerve damage, cause electricity is horrible for the body.  Speaking of, thank you for pulling us out of those nets."

Sam came over and held out a hand, looking slightly unsure as to what she wanted to do.  "Gods, I'm so sorry for shooting you in the foot."

Danny laughed, ignoring the pain of tensing muscles because that was the last thing anyone needed to apologize for as far as Danny was concerned.   "You got the net off yourself by blasting it so you blasted the net on my foot, it's cool. Though, if we end up netted again, please just grab something non-conductive to knock the net away."

"There will be no Next Time, pumpkin.  The anti-ghost defense grid is up and running and no nasty ghost robot is getting in here to target you."

"Thanks, Mom."  Danny let out a sigh and felt something uncurl in relief.  He was safe at home, at the very least. "So Jazz, I think I owe you a thought process."

"That is correct, Second."

"Well, False Maturity, I was thinking, 'that button has something to do with those nets. If I get them away from Sam and Tuck, he can't hurt them with them.' And so I tried doin that."

"My boy the hero!"  Dad came barreling into the room and immediately scooped Danny up into a hug.  "Gave us all a scare! That ecto scum will think twice before trying to attack FentonWorks now!"

“I’ve been told… lungs are important.”  Danny hugged back anyway of course, he wasn’t going to leave this hug ever.

“Mom, Dad,” Jazz piped up.  “The things that come out of the portal are clearly dangerous.  One attacked Danny in his room! Why haven’t we shut down the portal yet?”  The squeeze of Dad’s hug got uncomfortably tighter.

“We’ve tried, Jazzerincess, can’t get the darn thing to turn off.”  Danny felt his blood run even colder.

“What?” Mom sighed and ran a hand over her face.  “We unplugged it, cut all the power from the portal but it seems to be self-sustaining.  All we can do is block it up with those blast doors.”

For several moments there was silence while everyone digested that they had no solid way of keeping the ghosts out of their world.  And I'm the one who opened the door in the first place.

Sam cleared her throat.  "Drs. Fenton? I know who the ghost is.  He told us during his monologing he died putting down the last female purple back gorilla in a hunt.  Name’s Hunter Grosvenor.” Sam sneered around the name as though it were the most disgusting piece of meat she'd had to swallow in her life.

Danny covered his mouth with his hand, curling his fingers into a fist slowly.  Blowing air into it, he resisted the urge to growl. Tucker glared at the sky, daring Skulker to appear so he could dismantle him personally.  “I’ve not felt so incredibly violent in a while. I need videogames-"

"Actually," Tucker interrupted with a sigh.  "Your Horrorstation broke in all the fighting.  The scrap heap also stole my PDA."

"First he gives my best friend a burn on her stomach, then he breaks my models and now my videogames?  When I next see Skulker, I'm going to burn a hole through his faceplate." Danny groaned, laying his head back.   "Can I get a moment with Sam and Tuck?"

"Of course, son."  Dad set him down and ruffled his hair, more gentle with Danny than he ever remembered him being.  The air around Dad was vaguely orangish and Danny let the tiniest bit of ectoplasm reach his eyes.  The orange air around his dad, probably an aura, was tinged with echoes of sour fear and boiling anger that had Danny ready to crawl out of his skin, grab a gun and hunt Skulker down himself.  "You kids go on and do that research project of yours! Mads and I will hunt down that putrid undead creep and rip it apart on a molecular level!"

Danny had never felt so conflicted about something his Dad had said.  On one hand, I'd love for him to destroy Skulker. On the other, the dehumanizing way he says it is disturbing as all hell.

Just as the Fenton Adults left the room, Dad turned around with a big grin.  "By the way Danny, I'm proud of you for looking out for your friends like that."

A wave of something brilliant and blue and love pride relief joy slammed into Danny and filled him from the inside out.  And as the door closed, Danny flexed his fingers and rolled his joints.  Danny stood up and stretched. "Holy shit guys, I think that Dad just healed me up a bit."

"Sweet.  Think he can spread that around or is that a You thing?"  Tucker looked ready to take notes since Danny didn't have his notebook on him.

Danny closed his eyes and focused, gently pulling that cool void up and letting it fill his eyes and ears and every nerve on his body.   He opened his eyes and Danny saw the world bathed in that extreme indigo-like color that seemed to come off of every person he looked at.  Looking closer, he noticed faint blue strings leading from him to his Dad and Mom and Jazz upstairs and a silver string leading to Tucker and Sam each.   Reaching out to grasp the one that he just knew belonged to Jazz Danny was floored by so potent and blended a mix of positivity, concern, and manic energy that he had to stumble back into the bed.  "Danny?"

"Just a me thing.  Definitely. I can see these… strings, connecting me to you guys and my family.  Like spider threads. But like, made of emotions?" He rubbed his temples and hummed.  "Ectoplasm is psychoreactive so maybe it's like, a connection between us made semi tangible to my ghost because of how much ectoplasm is normally around here?  You guys definitely got hit by ectoplasm in spades when the portal activated, so that explains why I can see it linking me to you guys too…"

"Hey.  Science boy."  Sam nudged his hip with her foot and Danny arched a brow at her.   "Save the theories for later. We need a game plan to deal with the guy as soon as possible.  Grovsner was a very efficient hunter if a sadistic bastard.”

Danny sighed and nodded, sitting back down.  “Well, what do we know about him?” Tucker began tapping away at his PDA, eyes moving quickly.

“I know that you’re probably not gonna find anything on the internet.  I had done a report on his barbaric treatment toward animals for an extra credit project and when I looked back for them, on all the same sites as before.  Nothing.” Sam groaned. “But, I do remember what it was he typically did on a hunt for a protected species. He had hunting dogs, laid all kinds of traps, the works.  I’m not sure what kind of things ectoplasm can do to a net besides making it gooier, but being able to phase into walls and crawl spaces where you usually go to is something he’s definitely going to take advantage of.”

“So my locker is probably gonna be rigged to explode, I have to worry about hell hounds, and he has nets that might fall on me on the way to the library or just to like, GameStop.”  Danny leaned back, closing his eyes. “That sounds fun.”

"You assume there are hell hounds," Tucker snorted.

"Of course there are."

"Because you so want there to be ghost dogs."

"Tucker.  Imagine it.  A dog that doesn't poop, just cuddles up with you and gives you infinite love."

"Don't all dogs go to Heaven, Danny?"

"I have strong evidence that there is no such thing as Heaven just like. A door down.  Literally past that wall over there."

"Fair enough."  Tucker sighed and laid his head back.   Then he sat straight up with a grin. "You know what's a great way of being harder to trap?"

"Intelligence?"

"Mobility, Sam.  If we finish those hoverboards we should be able to avoid most of his land traps!"  Danny and Tucker beamed at each other and high fived each other.

"I'm good to go on that!  Sam, wanna learn how to-"

"You guys can have your geek things, Danny, I'm heading upstairs to make use of all your handhelds."  Sam smiled and held her hands up, walking to the stairs. "Scream if you need me."

"Same to you!"  Danny grinned and headed to the door that lead to the main lab.

“You know how your gravity inverter™ works better than I do so I’m gonna work on like, an AI.  No, Danny don’t give me that look, it’s just for navigation, it isn’t self improving or anything like that.  I just want something to help me not crash into things when flying.”

[goalballlive]

"Playing In The Portuguese League Is A Wonderful Experience," Nigerian Striker Reveals

“Playing In The Portuguese League Is A Wonderful Experience,” Nigerian Striker Reveals

Nigerian eligible goal poacher, Stanley Kanu, within months of joining Portuguese giants, Cs Martimo Madeira has turned a cult hero for his new side, a side he joined at the beginning of the current Portuguese league campaign. Speaking from his Portuguese base, the bulky striker took time off to relish the experience of playing for a big clubside and league in general. “Is really a whole and…