#i hate purebred bullshit

[animentality]

I know it's a fact of life and all, but it does give me the heebie jeebies, knowing there's someone out there whose job is to masturbate male pigs so they can ship off semen to artificially inseminate sows.

Like I get it... it's just...like...business, circle of life, this is how the meat industry is efficient in how it breeds livestock, but...

I'm trying to imagine someone whose job it is to masturbate a caged pig, and it's like...

Hm.

I hope they pay them...something good.

Also I wonder if like...female pigs ever feel super weird about being artificially inseminated.

Like they know it's not natural.

I assume.

And then I think, well, what about the male pigs?

They probably know it's not natural either, being jerked off in a cage by some human.

What is going through their heads during all this...

[jupiter-reimagined]

okay. okay okay okay. literally noone cares or asked but i feel like i should still document this so *i* dont forget about this in 5 years. so. uh. vex. vexy boy. him. uhm. so first off i hate his name now, it was supposed to be a placeholder until i came up with something better and like. dont worry about what inspired it. okay anyways.

so. uhhh the universe is very sci-fi driven. like interplanetary exploration and alien species sorta things. i really dont like timeframes or setting concrete years, but this could be like. retro futurism inspired shit. but probably taking place a few hundred years in the future at *least*, but like 10k years *max* cuz i am NOT dealing with figuring out the possible evolution of the human species. or any other species. this timeframe is purely there for fun possible tech.

i also made up a plant for this. its a non-toxic berry bush called pebbleberry. despite tasting like mud, theyre surprisingly nutritious, and can grow up to the size of a plum. and they get their name from the fruit itself having a dull gray colour, like a pebble. the muddy taste also adds to the naming factor.

okay so. the main crew. theres vex (new name pending), sarah and paul. they also have additional techies on-board, but these 3 are the ones leading the research expedition to a recently discovered planet, which seems viable to sustain life, which i imagine is roughly the size of the moon. also like. pardon scientific inaccuracies I Dont Care i just wanna play with the little people living in my head and not look too deeply into. anything. yeah.

so vex is the leading scientist, hes the one in charge of all the people. hes also the oldest member of the team, at around 60. grumpy old bastard. he doesnt have a set appearance. none of them do. but if i had to think about him, i feel like he'd be on the shorter side and have a beer-belly. i dont think he has a partner or children of his own because he takes his job seriously, as it was basically his lifes mission to do this and is *very* excited about it all, and hes VERY qualified for the job and extremely passionate about it all. i see him having written and published at least 3 research papers or books about various subjects, and the research mission to the new planet will be the focus on his 4th study. and hes fully human. well. as purebred as they can get in that time.

sarah, i believe, was supposed to be like the zoologist. she was originally like 23. but thats boring. so shes in her 50s now. tall but on the buffer side. has to be since she works part-time as a nurse. librarian glasses all the way. signed up for the mission in hopes of discovering a new species that her homeplanet previously was unaware of. boy will she be in for the ride of her life. her goals are to spread information about hybrids and different species to the masses, due to coming from a long lineage of hybrids herself. species undecided as of now, but im tempted to make her centaur-adjacent. shes very doe with vex's bullshit, and i actually see them being long-time work-buddies, her having helped him with his science papers, and i very much so see her being the one whos down to write and research the fauna of the new planet. co-author maybe. i do believe back on their home-planet she mainly does work as a nurse than a scientist. aint need to search for new problems when there are enough as is back there. still, couldnt resist the possibilities. plus the additional chance of finding and testing new herbal medicines was too great to pass up.

paul's a biologist. late 20s early 30s. in my mind i see him as bald. i dont know why, i just do. tall and chub all the way!!! i feel like it'd be funny if i made him a carnivore. or... for plot reasons, i could make him feline-adjacent. but carnivorous-merman speaks to my soul. maybe hes like. 1/4th merman on his grandfathers side has just like 3 traits and thats it. i do want to give him a fish tail and a few scales, as a treat. pike? yeah. yeah!!!! i can and will work with pike... i think hes the sorta guy who lied on his resume but got the job anyways cuz noone else applied, and they figured if all else fails, an aquatic hybrid would be useful in exploration of any bodies of water. i think he lowkey regrets sighing up for the mission, since it lasts around like. i wanna say at least 6 months to 5 years time-period wise. and hes got a partner and a kid back home. isnt really putting in his all, but at the end of the day knows its at least gonna put food on the table and he gets to tell stories of his adventures when hes finally back.

as i said, theres also the tech crew and additional people on the team, but its probably like 15 people max. but theyre not important anymore, because let me introduce you to a new species and a new little guy as well, whos a part of the main crew.

it doesnt have a name, nor do i think it needs one. but its a member of a native species of feline-esque shapeshifters. i want to make them tiger-adjacent because thats what they were at first as a placeholder. but yk. its roughly 8 or 9 in human years and based on appearance alone, looks like a solid 50/50 mix of tiger and human. but this is all subject to change. the species do have clothes. they have fingers and thumbs (for the most part) and they use them to their advantage. im messing with the idea of their cities built in trees as well, so clothing is also functional. the child does have a family, but i am still figuring it out. also. lets just say the phrase "curiosity killed the can but satisfaction brought it back" exists for a reason. its just a kid. its very curious about the world.

also like. note that i am messing with a possible magic system getting involved. and for the sake of it, the native species do not speak english. they dont speak verbally at all. like wild cats with their colonies.

just. imagine, for a moment. youre vex. its been a few weeks since everythings been set up and running. your HQ is in a clearing in what seems to be a jungle. everything to contact your home-planet has been set up, and the campsite is fully ready. and then you look up at the walls around the mini-compound. and. theres a kid there. staring at you. the species is familiar, human-tiger hybrids are common back home. but. *here*? i feel like vex isnt fond of children. but does he find them distasteful enough to run experiments on them to hunt down one, simply because it was the first native species that you see? because.. what if you never see it again? what if doing it *now* is your only chance? surely sarah will forgive this. right? or.. do you follow it down to its home. seek to develop allyship there... at the risk of being attacked, or waging a war on your home. i feel like the right option to do is to contact the homeplanet HQ and ask for advice. but instead. something tells me he ignores it all and just. takes a step forward. his mind buzzing. even he doesnt know what he did, until he snaps out of it. hours later.

just remembered an idea i had earlier. so like dominic was originally named butch/butcher but i realized i dont like it at all, and i was iffy about dominic from the get-go and like yesterday or smth the name buster came in mind for him. im really not sure tho. its better than butch i *think* but like. decisions decisions :pensive:

[healingheartdogs]

I love GWPs a lot, and in a lot of ways they are the ideal breed for me, but boy howdy the breed community sure turns a blind eye to some serious issues that make me debate not getting any more involved in the breed.

GWP bitches need c-sections at a rate of almost 50%. AKC show and dual-line GWP people claim GWPs have no diversity problems going by pedigree, but genetic COI for that side of the breed would beg to differ. Most breeders still don't do all recommended health testing and there is still denial in the breed that some of the health issues we know exist are actually a breed problem. Basically no breeders in the breed follow socialization protocols for their puppies whatsoever. Natural colors that are accepted by the parent breed club and most other countries' breed clubs are arbitrarily restricted in AKC, cutting off a portion of the gene pool for no good reason. Multiple breeders and handlers have told me that GWPs in the US have weak shoulders that are obvious in a visual examination and then told me how to correctively groom my dog to hide that if his shoulders didn't shape up as he matured so he could still title in confo and be bred anyway. Also the show and dual purpose side of the breed has a lot of shitty too long, too soft coats that are getting majorly stripped down, trimmed, and chalked to hell to look correct enough to title in confo, despite the fact that GWPs are not supposed to be a breed that allows a lot of show grooming and proper coat is considered the most important confo trait for the breed.

And don't even get me started on the problem of people confusing arousal with drive and breeding dogs who are overly excitable and a pain in the ass to live with, though that's more of a sport breeding issue in general and not quite breed specific. Plus the fact that most of the breed community still believes in dominance theory bullshit and uses a lot of aversive traditional methods of training with the excuse that GWPs are a hard and sometimes mean breed that needs to be taught who is the boss, which is not at all true in my experience -- they are sensitive as fuck like most pointers and eager to please but their furnishing and docked tail as well as bias and negative anthropomorphism in reading dogs from uneducated hunters and show/sport people hides a lot of their expression so when people see their GWP in a shut down stressed out state and not listening they call the dog an asshole and say it's being stubborn and add more pressure. Not that most GWP people know enough about dog body language to read stress signs properly even if they had no furnishing and full length tails.

Really feel like I'm facing down these issues in every purebred breed that I have significant interest in competing with and breeding myself (except the c-section problem that is ABSURD AND VERY CONCERNING, WHY IS A LARGE WORKING BREED IN THE TOP 10 C-SECTION BREEDS????), but it definitely hurts a bit more for GWPs ngl. I hate closed studbooks, I hate breeding for over-valued pageants and calling them proof of functional form, I hate arbitrary natural color restrictions while calling restricted natural colors "color breeding" and saying they're a sign of a "BYB", I hate breeding for extreme confo because it looks flashier in a stack in the ring, I hate corrective grooming to title and breed dogs who otherwise would not title because of obvious physical faults, and I hate how anti-cross even for health and genetic diversity purebred communities are.

[bloos-moos]

I love that I can hate John Walker. He's someone you know is an absolute dumpster human but you can still follow his (bad) logic through the episode. During the scene we first get to know him talking to Lamar and his girlfriend, I felt a total understanding of what he's about, and even copped some sympathy for how much of a burden he's taking on. Even him bullshitting the interview felt very normal. I wanted to root for him right up until he started using very calculated language to talk down to Sam and Bucky. Everything goes downhill from there.

But still, he's a fantastic villain with a lot of potential to develop into the purebred bastard he is in the comics.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 21

*Warning: Adult Content*   

As Montreal Hunter listens to Kit Montaine speak, he struggles to keep his emotions in check. 

Sorrow, indignation, pity, horror and outrage all combine to make his chest feel too small for the ache in his heart. 

He wants to hold on tight and never let go, to kiss away Kit’s tears and to promise him only good things from now on. 

Instead, he stays quiet and keeps his hold on him light. 

The fact that Kit lets Monty touch him at all, after what he's been through, that he trusts him and takes comfort in being close, is a miracle. 

It's a triumph of nature over nurture, Monty guesses, that Kit could have gone through all that he has and still come out so gentle and sweet. 

When he reaches the end of his awful tale, he looks up at Monty, the corners of his mouth trembling and draws a shaky breath.

"So do you hate me now, Monty?" he whispers. 

"For what I've done?"

Monty strokes Kit’s wild curls, soft as a child's and keeps his voice even and quiet.

"I could never hate you, Kit. You've done nothing wrong. Some bad things happened to you, some really bad things and none of it was your fault. You get that, right? None of it was your fault. Your family lied. You're good and beautiful and brave and... well, you're wonderful, Kit. And I promise you I'm gonna do my best to make sure no more bad things happen to you, ever again."

"But I brought the danger," Kit sniffs.

"No, you didn't. The danger was already here, by the looks of it. And if more follows you, that's not your fault, either. You were running for your life and you didn't mean any harm by it, did you?

Kit shakes his head.

"See? Not your fault."

Kit whimpers and reaches for Monty, pulling him down into a kiss but the older man gently sets his hand on his chest and holds him back.

"Kit... I need you to understand something else, okay?"

He nods.

"I'm gonna do my best to protect you and keep you safe but only because I want to. You don't owe me anything. And I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to, either, not ever. Okay?"

Kit stares at Monty and for a moment he’s not sure he gets it. 

Then he nods again, slowly and swallows.

"He never kissed me," he whispers, his eyes lowered behind long golden lashes. 

"No one ever kissed me before and I never wanted to kiss anyone, Monty, until I met you. Only you."

Somehow, Monty knows Kit's telling the truth and when the young man reaches for him again, he doesn't resist and he tastes the sweet salt of his tears on his lips.

                                                       ~ ☾ ~

Later that night, while everyone else is watching a movie, Monty take his brother Alpha Dane Hunter outside and ‘with Kit's permission’ he tells him what Kit had told him.

"That's some fucked-up shit," Dane says. 

"Unfortunately, it doesn't surprise me. We knew the Mortaines were into that 'purebred' bullshit but I'm sure mom and dad never suspected anything like this.”

Despite his words, Monty senses a hint of uncertainty in his tone. 

Their parents and Kit's uncle, Obadiah Mortaine, had arranged a match between their alpha-born children, after all. 

If Dane had been more interested in growing the Pack and his power and less in solving crime and following his heart, Monty might be surrounded by a very different group of people right now. 

Or not. 

Monty doubts Wolves like himself or Freya, would be welcome in a Pack like that. 

And who knows what would have happened to Kit.

"Yeah. And it sounds like this 'Ferrault' guy is even worse," Monty says, sipping the hard cider Sasha Hunter had poured for him. 

"Got some weird Nazi name for his Pack, too, the 'White Dawn.' Thinks he's destined to be some kind of Alpha god or something and rule all Wolves.”

"Fuck," Dane swears, swiping a hand across his face. 

"And Kit thinks this guy might track him here?"

Monty shakes his head. 

"I don't know. I don't think Kit knows, really. But we'd best be prepared for the worst."

"The worst?" Dane echoes, sardonically. 

"What could be worse than what we're facing now? Our parents might be dead, Monty. At the very least they're missing, and someone here, within their own territory, maybe within their own Pack, might be responsible. I don't know how much worse it could get."

Monty knows what he means. 

That one of their own would betray them is unthinkable but all the evidence, or the lack of evidence, at least points that way. 

And yet, after hearing Kit's account, Monty can imagine worse.

"Anyway." Monty brushes his hand over his hair. 

"Long and short of it is, the Mortaines are more messed-up than we thought and if they come here after Kit... Well, I want you to know that I plan to defend him."

"I'm with you, brother," Dane says, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

"I know I didn't exactly welcome him with open arms, but as long as he's under your care, the Pack will fight for him, tooth and claw. We've got your back and his."

"Thank you." Monty nods, recognizing the formal pledge in his tone. 

"I hope it won't come to that."

"Me too." Dane nods, turning towards the window, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

"Me too."      

                                                       ~ ☾ ~

The next few days pass in a tense approximation of normality, everyone taking comfort in the most mundane of tasks. 

Monty bake sweets and Sasha Hunter spends hours in her shop, the sounds of her various tools a constant hum and whine in the background. 

Monty can tell the noise gets on Julian Hart's nerves and he seeks the peace and solitude of the woods, though Dane won't let him go alone. 

Martin Hunter comes and goes, bringing over covered dishes ‘all vegetarian, Monty notices’ for breakfasts and lunches, to help Sasha feed us all. 

Jake Nash drops by in the evenings for dinner and to exchange any new information with Dane. 

So far, there hasn't been much. 

Dane has withdrawn into himself, keeping his Alpha power low as a banked fire, watching everything with the calculating gaze of a removed observer. 

He's in full detective mode, though Monty doesn't see what good it's doing here. 

Sasha and Martin would never hurt our mom and dad and their mates have alibis, Elena was on a 12-hour shift at the hospital and Jake was with Sasha all night. 

As for Kit, he spends most of his time either sticking close to me or playing with the twins. 

The way he's always so gentle with them, so unfailingly patient, caring and kind, always looking after the needs of others before his own, is both touching and a source of frustration. 

Monty wants Kit to think about himself, too. 

To learn how to ask for what he needs, so Monty can trust him to speak up and tell him what he wants and not just endure in silence, as he's been trained to do his whole life. 

His whole life, Monty reminds myself. 

He's never known anything else. 

As Monty watches Kit, a strange feeling constricts his heart. 

In the absence of fear, the young man smiles and laughs and no one would guess at what he's endured. 

But that fear is never far off, a raised voice, a loud noise, a sharp glance, the smallest thing will summon it back and leave him trembling. 

Undoubtedly, there are other, less visible signs of Kit’s traumas and maybe his attachment to Monty is one of them. 

Maybe, once Kit's healed a little, he won't need Monty anymore. 

Unfortunately, the more time they spend together and the more they get to know each other, the more Monty’s heart keeps telling him that he needs him. 

Rather than happiness, though, it fills the older man with a sort of anxious dread. 

Feeling too much has always been his greatest weakness but it was believing those feelings might be returned that led to his greatest mistake. 

Monty doesn't want to make another.        

                                                           ~ ☾ ~

The sound of an argument interrupts Monty’s dour thoughts as he stirs yet another batch of cookie batter. 

Dusting flour from his hands, he sets the bowl aside and go to the window. 

Outside, Sasha stands over Freya where she's changing the oil on her bike, her face bright with anger. 

Freya frowns up at her, a red bandana tied over her long black curls and a tool in one hand. 

More tools are laid out neatly on a small cloth and this, it seems, is the source of the argument. 

Curious what the fuss is over, Monty goes outside and approach.

"I swear, Sasha, everything I've borrowed I've put back right where I found it. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, somebody took my things and you're the only one who's been in there."

"Are you sure about that? What about Jake?”

Sasha crosses her arms, toned muscles showing beneath her light brown skin, and scowls. 

"Jake knows my system. He's been using my shop for months and nothing's been out of place before. Not until you showed up."

"Maybe you just didn't notice before," Freya mumbles, turning back to her bike. 

"The way the man comes and goes, who knows what you've been missing?"

"How dare you," Sasha hisses, her face flushing with shocked offense. 

"I trust Jake with my life and he's been around a hell of a lot more than you have, the last few years, off fighting monsters, or whatever it is you do with that vampire boyfriend of yours. Would you even be here now, if you hadn't broken up with that creep?"

Freya's got a temper and Monty braces himself, expecting an explosion but to his surprise, she doesn't rise to the bait. 

Instead, a look of uncharacteristic hurt clouds her face. 

She sets down the tool she's holding with care, lining it up with the others on the cloth, then gets to her feet and dusts off the knees of her jeans.

"I'll put these tools away in a bit, Sasha. Sorry if I misplaced your things. I'll be more careful from now on. If you'll excuse me, I need to stretch my legs."

She turns and walks away towards the trees and Sasha stares after her, a conflicted expression of mingled frustration and regret on her soft-featured face.

"What was that about?" Monty asks, coming to stand at her side.

"I went to get some things I needed for finishing a piece, some varnishes and thinners and I couldn't find 'em. Then I started noticing some other stuff missing, too my acetylene torch, a roll of heavy-duty tape random things like that. I don't know why Freya would have borrowed them  but she's the only one who's been in there."

"When was the last time you looked for that stuff? I mean..." 

Monty rubs the back of my head awkwardly. 

He doesn't want to doubt Sasha's word but he knows how mindful Freya is of other people's things. 

Like Monty, she's always been careful not to make herself a burden. 

"Maybe you used up your supply and don't remember."

Sasha casts Monty a look. 

"Even if I had, then what about the torch? Welding equipment doesn't just disappear after you use it, Monty."

The rumble of an engine draws my attention and Monty turns to see Jake Nash's ranger truck approaching up the drive.

“Well, seeing as he's here, you might wanna check with Jake, too," Monty says. "Sometimes when people get comfortable in a place, they forget the lines between what's theirs and what's not. Maybe Jake used some things and forgot to tell you."

"Yeah," Sasha agrees, deflating from anger to unhappiness. 

Then she sighs. 

"What about Freya? I didn't mean to hurt her just now. I didn't realize it was... a sore subject."

"I'll talk to her. I think I need a walk, too," Monty says, glancing back towards the house. 

Before he had started baking cookies, he'd looked in on Kit and the twins. 

They were sleeping and Kit had looked so adorable curled up with Luna and Luca resting in his arms, he'd had a hard time resisting the urge to scoop them all up and snuggle them to death ‘figuratively, of course’. 

Then Monty had remembered how soft Kit's lips felt when he kissed him and how good and warm he felt in his arms when they shared the bed at night and then he started thinking about other things and then he decided he needed to bake something. 

As Sasha wanders over to where Jake is dismounting from his vehicle, long legs swinging to the ground and blond hair gleaming in the sun, Monty follows Freya in the direction of the woods. 

She hasn't gone far and he catches up with her leaning against the trunk of an old tree, looking at something on her phone. 

She glances up as Monty approaches and wipes hastily at her eyes.

"You heard all that?" she asks.

"Kinda hard not to. You okay?"

She shrugs, still looking at her phone. 

"Who knows?"

Monty stands awkwardly for a moment. 

Freya's not one to push but something's clearly been bothering her and he doesn't like to pretend he don't care.

"You wanna talk?"

"Not really."

Monty waits a moment longer but she continues to ignore him.

"Alright. As long as you're okay."

He starts to walk away but he hasn't taken many steps when she speaks again.

"He's an idiot."

"Who?" 

Monty looks back at her.

"Darius, obviously."

Monty returns to where she stands and leans against another tree, copying her pose.

"What he do?"

She answers without looking up. 

"Said he loves me."

Monty blinks. 

"He what? But how's that a bad thing? I thought... Well, I kinda thought you liked him, too."

She sighs, rolls her eyes and finally pockets her phone.

"I do."

Freya waves a hand at Monty. 

"I like working with him. We're compatible teammates. We've gotten to know each other so well, we barely have to speak out loud to communicate on a mission anymore. He's handsome and daring and funny and kind and a bit of a bad boy, too. He's perfect. As a friend." 

"But, he wants more and you don't?" Monty ventures. 

"He didn't try pushing something on you, did he?"

Freya shakes her head, her dark curls catching the dappled light through the leaves. 

"It's not that. It's just... I don't wanna mess up what we have. And... I mean, he's a vampire, Monty. How's that supposed to work?"

Monty chews his lip. 

Wolf and vamp' doesn't seem more unlikely than 'Wolf and Fae' honestly but what does Monty know?

"So... what happened?"

She sighs again. 

"He... confessed, I guess. Said he loves me and wants to make me his forever. And I..." She looks up and blinks, her voice going high and tight. "And I didn't believe him."

"What? Why not?"

She takes a breath and her words leave her in a rush.

"Because Darius likes beautiful women and he said... he said that I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever known."

Monty blinks at his sister. 

"But... you are beautiful, Freya. You know that."

She shakes her head. 

"I thought I was over it, all the insecurity. But... when he said that it all came back and my gut reaction was that it just couldn't be true. That he must be lying and that if I gave in to my feelings, it would ruin our relationship. I guess... it's dumb, but I guess I pushed him away because I don't want to lose him. Does that make sense?"

Monty shakes his head, a rueful smile twisting his lips. 

"Nah. But love seldom does, I guess. Not that I'm one to talk."

Sniffing, she wipes her eyes with the pads of her fingers, careful not to smudge her makeup. 

"Anyway, then this mess happened and I told him I needed some space and some time to think. He didn't object, so..."  

She shrugs. 

"That's that, I guess."

"Hey." 

Monty go to her and pulls her into a hug. 

"If he lets you go that easy, then maybe his feelings aren't that strong. But I'd bet you anything he didn't lie when he said those things. A man like that doesn't waste time with a woman he's only after for a bit of fun. He's been with you for years. My guess is, he meant it all, at least at the time he said it. And if it's real... well, you'll work it out, one way or another."

"I hope so," she laughs, and sniffs, wiping her nose. 

"It's only been a few days and I already miss that freak."               

                                                           ~ ☾ ~

That night, Martin comes over and barbecues for everyone, vegetarian hotdogs and bean-burgers, as well as the meat variety. 

He brings his kids along because Elena had to work but thankfully the incident at his house seems to be forgotten. 

Soon Nico, Rio, Flora and Miguel are playing a spirited game of tag with Kit and Julian. 

Kit is quick and light on his feet. 

Monty knows because he can't keep his eyes off him. 

And Julian cheats now and then by going 'unseen' to the delight of the four young Wolves. 

They sit outside at a long picnic table on Sasha's brick patio, which she laid herself and everyone keeps the talk light as we enjoy the tasty food. 

Dane alone remains as reserved as ever, his eyes only lighting with warmth when he feeds Luna and Luca spoonfuls of food, or looks up and sees Julian's luminescent beauty growing more noticeable as the edge between night and day goes soft. 

His Fae qualities always become more visible at liminal times like this. 

Jake Nash is there, too and he sticks close to Sasha, holding her hand and kissing her when he thinks no one notices. 

They certainly look like a pair of newly-mates in love, even if they haven't 'finalized' things yet. 

It feels almost normal, a summer picnic beneath an evening sky, crickets chirping in the grass and the first bats swooping low overhead. 

The only thing missing is... Well, the only thing missing is their mom and dad. 

Dad's cooking and mom's laughter as she makes some last-minute repair to something that broke 'waste not, want not,' was always her motto. 

As Monty’s thoughts go quiet, he hardly notice that everyone around him have gone quiet as well until Freya touches his shoulder. 

Everyone's looking towards the road and as Monty turns, he sees why. 

A sheriff's patrol car, lights flashing blue and red, approaches up the drive.

[siriuswolfdogs]

My family is militantly anti-breeding (even responsible breeding) and is shaming my younger sister relentlessly for choosing a purebred service dog via a responsible breeder that she was actually friends with beforehand. Do you have any tips for explaining why responsible breeding is necessary (they also think breed preservation is bullshit, which I hate) and why it’s not okay to shame people who opt for purebred dogs when it comes to work? I’m hitting a wall unfortunately.

Ahh- this is something I think that if people don’t wanna agree with it, they just won’t. You can talk until you’re blue in the face- they just don’t care about the facts.

That being said- for me personally having a dog from a responsible breeder means history on my dogs that you just can’t get from rescue. We’re talking temperament. I can get a solid idea what to expect from my dogs by seeing how their parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc are. We’re talking health and longevity. I can get a solid idea of what health problems (or lack their of) to look for, because I know the lineage. If you rescue a dog there is just no guarantee what your dog is gonna act like 3 months down the road, what it’s triggers are gonna be, what possible trauma its been through. Will it get cancer? Seizures? Hip dysplasia? You don’t know.

I think this sort of thing is especially important when considering a service dog prospect. I can’t tell you how many friends I have that have had to wash their service dogs due to going to a rescue or questionable breeder. It’s important to know what you’re getting in that aspect.

Now, saying all this I am in no way anti rescue. Rescue is obviously a wonderful thing. I’ve seen plenty of awesome rescue dogs. But I’ve also seen plenty of monsters. I used to work in rescue and have seen every shade of dog under the sun.

If a rescue dog is something someone is willing to work with and live with, and they’re willing to gamble on temperament and health- that’s great! But knocking someone for wanting to know exactly what they’re getting is harsh. It’s also important to note there are just as many shady rescues as there are shady breeders.

[drferox]

I should never have needed to type the phrase ‘Fascist Nazi Captain Planet RPer’ with my own two hands.

In light of the whole captain-planet-official nazi dogwhistles thing…

Doesn’t matter if they know what they’re doing or not (but they certainly do) or if they’re doing this ‘ironically’ (a cop out excuse to claim plausible deniability when they get called out) this fascist nazi Captain Planet blog is influencing its readers in a bad way, and you should be aware of how. Because honestly I’ve used some of those techniques too.

“But it’s all a joke!” No it’s not. It’s masquerading as a joke, hiding behind that claim if the heat gets too intense, but it’s not a joke.

Well, except maybe for the fact that the right wingers are laughing at you trying to figure it out, ‘getting confused’ or defending parts of what’s been said.

The short premise is that the more positively you feel about a personality on the internet, the more likely you are to agree with them, and the more likely you are to side with them on issues that you didn’t previously have an opinion on. At some point you file them away in your brain as ‘someone I agree with’ and use them as a shortcut for ‘If they said this, I agree with them’. It’s a very human thing, it’s why advertisers pay so much for celebrity endorsements.

So part of what this Nazi Captain Planet rper is/was doing (I can’t believe I typed that phrase with my own two hands, what even is 2019?) is making you feel attached to them, and partly it’s training your brain to accept and normalise their rhetoric.

So how does a blog set about accomplishing this?

Start with an easy one- giving you a nickname or term of endearment. It makes you feel special, and like you belong to something. They use Planeteers, I used Vetlings. People crave belonging.

Then have an approachable front: a much loved cartoon character. The trusted profession of veterinarian.

Now if you’re trying to do this deliberately, start getting people into a quick habit of agreeing with you. Pick neutral ground that’s hard to criticise - protecting the environment is good, don’t litter, we want good things for our pets, etc.

And once you’ve got people agreeing with you on multiple points in succession, it becomes easier to get them to agree with, or at least tolerate, the next point. Especially if you’re on a relatively unassuming blog about ‘saving the environment’ or animal health.

Did you ever try that trick as a kid where you ask someone to repeat the word ‘silk’ out loud ten times in a row, and then ask ‘what does a cow drink’? A bunch of them will automatically reply ‘milk’ instead of ‘water’ because you primed their brain.

So you can use this repeated behavior to desensitise readers to an idea, get them used to agreeing with you, until you slip some things in which they might normally side-eye.

It’s making the brain practice how you want it to think before the main event. It’s showing your work so that other people can apply it to other situations. I’ve done it too, rather more unintentionally most of the time on this blog, though I use it when communicating directly with clients.

For example, in my writing I can lead you down the garden path of:

“Purebreds have problems because they haven’t had new genes introduced in generations”

> “mixing of breeds is a good thing”

> “breed purity is a bad thing, maybe not immediately but it is bad”.

Then I will often leave readers to make the last step on their own, because I trust they’re intelligent and reasonable, and a conclusion you reach yourself has more sticking power than any I just hand you.

So when you conclude “racial purity is a completely bullshit concept and detrimental to the health of those ‘races’, are Nazis actually trying to make us as screwed over as German Shepherds?” you will hold that opinion more strongly than if I just said it to you.

Similarly, a different blog leading you down the path of “Invasive species are a result of globalism and must be removed” with “there are three types of people: black, Jews and normal” is leading you towards the path of “blacks and Jews are not normal, they are invasive and we should remove them” and then that goes to “but humanely! We can humanely euthanize invasive species!” and I’m sure you can see where that is going. It also co-opts real conservation talk and terms, but it’s glossing over the fact it’s trying to get you to think about people this way, often with as much plausible deniability as they can muster. Throw the thoughts out there, see what sticks, then backtrack if it doesn’t work.

On that note of backtracking, this is where Dogwhistles come in.

A Dogwhistle is a phrase that on its own looks perfectly benign, or even makes sense in context, but has a specific meaning for a particular subgroup of people that change the context. Just like dog whistles are heard by dogs, but not by people.

A classic example is the phrase ‘family values’, which often means anti-LGBT+ in a Christian context even though it sounds like it should mean something supportive.

The Nazi and alt-right ones change periodically. From relatively old school ones like ‘14 words’, the number 88, and ‘final solution’, to more recent ones like putting names in (((brackets))), particular emojis and even ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’.

Yes, ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’ became a Nazi dogwhistle, regardless of whatever you might think of Pewdiepie. If it was thrown into a context where it didn’t necessarily seem to belong, it changed the meaning of those words. And if that person was called out on it, they’d backtrack and claim they simply liked the content. And the bigger the meme became, the easier it was for them to use.

Ah, you might think by now, but lots of people also use ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’, emojis and sentences with 14 words. And 88 is a perfectly ordinary number, a birth year even, there are times when it’s really just being used legitimately?

Of course there are. But when you start to see a lot of them together, it starts to look suspicious.

And if you are a minority regularly targeted by such a hateful group, it starts to look really very intimidating. So if everybody starts reblogging these dogwhistles from a colourful Captain Planet blog, it makes it look like there are far more Nazi supporters than anything else. And it isolates those minorities.

This is why it’s so insidious that they claimed something like Captain Planet - a character with significant nostalgia, a show with a pretty diverse group of main characters and a good message, and co-opted it into spreading these dogwhistles and priming unwary minds to think these rhetorics, these training ideas, are reasonable.

“But it was clearly a troll, lmfao!”

Oh hell no. These are real tactics. They will say it’s a joke, it’s trolling, or that you’re overreacting, but that’s part of the plan to seed these ideas. Don’t defend it. Don’t fall for it.

[pokemonswshbutionlyplayedsword]

In a sort of fantasy AU, where all the Gym leaders + Hop and Victor/Gloria got turned into mythical creatures, What would they be?

In fantasy AUs (which I’m very fond of btw) I like to think it was just always like that, rather than they all got turned into one. Still, the same idea. I also added a few extra characters, since I like fantasy AUs a lot. I got an ask about one a while back, so I’m gonna try to keep close to that, and I saw another au from someone else, so I hope I don’t accidentally copy them too closely. Most people in this AU are just humans. It’s just fate that all the people of note gets to be creatures. Humans and creatures live in harmony, mostly. But the majority is humans.

Milo is a cervitaur, which is like a centaur, but with a deer instead of a horse. It’s not actually a deer, though, just similar, with antlers as well. Milo is very small in comparison to other cervitaurs, but he makes up for it in strength. They pull their own plows, and what takes 3 other cervitaurs to pull, takes only him. He works hard.

Nessa is a mermaid. The kind that gets legs when completely dry and/or control the form they take. You can tell she’s a mermaid even when she has legs, though because her neck has dark scars/marks where her gills normally are. Her tail is long and flowly, much like a Milotic but with wider fins, and a lot of different shades of blue scales.

Kabu is a werebeast. They’re like werewolves, except wolves don’t exist in pokemon. They can change forms at will, but they are also forced to change under a full moon. He’s not the most powerful because he’s not a full werebeast. There are people in his ancestry that were just humans.

Bea is a half giant. She’s big and very strong, but she looks like a big human, rather than normal giants. She’s also smaller than normal giants, but she’s just as strong, if not stronger. She works hard because people see what she lacks as a half giant compared to giants, rather than what she gains as a half giant compared to humans. Full giants don’t exist anymore anyway.

Allister is a spirit. The accident that he got his ghost affinity in? Yeah, he died, but his spirit clung to the realm of the living and continued his lift. He used to be human, but he was so young, he doesn’t remember it much. It doesn’t bother him as much as it bothers other people. Spirits are not unheard of, but they’re one of the rarest in the world.

Opal is a faerie. She hails from the forests around Ballonlea. Flowers grow when her bare skin touches dirt. She can use magic, most pertaining to plants. She would have been a grass specialist if she wasn’t so fond of sweet things and pink.

Gordie is a golem. He’s a rock golem, but he was born a snow golem. He changed it when he took up rock type pokemon. Golems can change what type they are at will, and he’s the first rock golem in a family of snow golems.

Melony is a golem, like the rest of her family. A snow golem. She can’t leave Circhester for more than a few hours, or she risks melting and becoming a water golem. They can change at will, but sometimes they are forced to change. She can change back, but it’s just an inconvenience.

Piers is a vampire. Naturally. Almost everyone in Spikemuth is a vampire, it’s why they have a roof. People don’t like vampires much, and there are a lot of restrictions that they have to follow. It’s why they’re all rebellious punks. Piers follows the rules only so he can keep Marnie.

Raihan is a werebeast. Except, unlike Kabu, he comes from a line of purebred werebeasts, so he’s much more powerful. Werebeasts are praised as heroes, unlike the vampires, who are supposed the be the villains. So Raihan is kind of an idol to everyone in Galar, except Spikemuth, most of whom reject any werebeasts because of the past.

Leon is a sphinx, but with a much more human form because it would be inconvenient for everyone if he had a full lion body. He’s got giant golden wings, too, which is not something all sphinxes have. They’re very rare, so he’s even more of a spectacle. They’re also very powerful, and with Leon’s training, he’s incredibly strong, both as a trainer and a person.

Hop, like his brother, is a sphinx. He also has wings, though they’re smaller, and he’s more of a tan than a golden color. He thinks he’ll brighten up and his wings will get bigger as he gets older. His goal is to not only be as good a trainer as him, but also as powerful a sphinx as him, too.

Victor/Gloria are either interchangeable characters or twins, depending on the situation. Thus, they’re the same thing. Shapeshifters. Their form is normally just a normal person, but they are able to take the shape of any pokemon as they wish. Like a ditto, almost, but more convincing because they don’t have that weird face. They can’t turn into other people, though.

Marnie, like her brother, is a vampire. She’s working hard to undo the discrimination against them, and the consequential damage that Spikemuth suffered due to it. She often tries to tell the people of Spikemuth that the wars between vampires and werebeasts were long past and that it was time to make amends. Piers is proud of her.

Bede is a faun. People often think he’s sweet and kind, but he’s abnormally short tempered. He hates being a faun and he wishes he was something powerful like  Leon. When Opal takes him in (they’re in the same category of mythical creatures anyway), she teaches him to accept himself for who he is.

Oleana is a gorgon. She can’t turn anyone to stone, but she’s still incredibly scary. People whisper that she has a venomous bite. She is able to shut down any bullshit with her stare. She’s also very strong, and serves as a bodyguard along with assistant to Rose. She’s considered one of the scariest people in Galar.

Rose is a normal human, somehow. His progressive acceptance of all monsters (as it seems, he still doesn’t care much for vampires) got him a seat of power. Also, since the majority of people are human, he’s able to be the chairman. He works closely with many monsters, though, so he can essentially harness their powers.

If this au gets more traction, I might make a few changes, but for now, this is what I have.

[ravel-puzzlewell]

Garrus: Saren’s crimes are a disgrace, I hate corruption! And I couldn’t even pin him down in my investigation because he’s a Spectre and operates outside of the laws, and I just couldn’t do anything!

Shepard: Yep, that’s bullshit, that’s why Spectres need to have more accounta...

Garrus: That’s why *I* also need to have an authority to operate outside of the laws! 

Shepard: Man, I’m a former mob enforcer and you’re a purebred pig, I mean, you come from a long line of cops, how do I get it and you don’t?

[whalexflowers]

{ sophia bush, lesbian, cisfemale + she/her } ➸ hey look, it’s SAWYER CICERO! they’re a 32 year old originally from WASHINGTON, DC. i heard she’s pretty EVASIVE, but i think she’s so LOYAL at the same time. while they’re terrified of being harmed, they’re perhaps more afraid of people finding out HER FATHER IS A DESPISED FORMER PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. they had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they moved to wrenbury.

tw: abuse, republicans, sex, drugs, rock’n roll, non graphic mentions of assault, lesbian butch mess

ok here i go again, reg back on her bullshit with my chainsmoking, dog training, doberman wrangling, chip-on-her-shoulder lesbian

Decades before Sawyer Cicero existed, there was Sally Maxwell, the youngest of the six children of Ernest Maxwell, a prolific republican politician from Topeka, Kansas. The power of her first cries was a force to be reckoned with, for an already exhausted mother that was trying to juggle her husband’s rapidly growing career and very attention demanding siblings.

Sally was born with the label of black sheep tattooed to her face even before she learned how to run. She was loud, curious and would not stay still, constantly interrupting the peaceful formation that her picture perfect family had to maintain as they got more and more thrusted into the public eye.

As Sally grew and started being more aware of her surroundings, she noticed that a lot of the things that happened around her made her feel uneasy: the bruises on mother’s face, the smell of alcohol on her parents breath’s before 10 am and the way her siblings did everything to get out of the house. Also, there were words thrown around that Sally knew they weren’t supposed to say, words thrown at their maids, and cooks, and gardeners and waitresses, usually people with skin darker than hers. They were called slurs, she learned one day at school. 

The pain of Sally’s self awareness did nothing but intensify as the years went on. The Maxwell’s house grew bigger and their universes got smaller, a sea of ignorance and bigotry surrounding their existence. And Sally was trying her best to stay afloat, to not be one of them, to not be like her father and her meek mother. She liked her nannies and chauffeurs better, they were the ones with the real knowledge, with the colorful worlds and tolerant answers that spoke of real freedom. Not the American Dream bullshit that Sally’s father went on and on about during dinner, face red from whisky and expensive steak dripping with blood.

So Sally did the only thing she could and started rebelling. She went by Sawyer and stop responding to her real name. She pierced her ears and went heavy on the eyeliner. She snuck out of the public appearances her family made or scowled directly at the cameras, proudly displaying her USA flag pin upside down. 

She was sixteen when Republican candidate Ernst Maxwell won the presidential election and her family started packing to move into the actual White fucking House. Sawyer’s worst nightmare had come to life, both personally and for the minorities in the country that just wanted to live a decent life away from the bullies that populated Sawyer’s daily life. Her mother, the First Lady had long ago lost her voice and so had her siblings.

So she rebelled even harder, openly flipping off cameras, speaking against her father’s policies, attending democratic party events and reading everything she could to educate herself. The coup de grace came when paparazzis caught her in the Rose Garden, fervently kissing a female classmate from her private school. Sawyer was, of course, a lesbian. She had been stealing kisses, glances and handholds since her early teen years, trying to figure out her identity. And as soon as she did, there was no holding her down. Sawyer was pictured almost every week with a different girl, in gay bars and lgbt+ events.

Her chaotic ways reached newer heights in college, when her parents swiftly shipped her off to London. Sex, drugs, rock’n roll plus a whole lot of lesbianing and disorderly conduct, but Sawyer finally felt free. It took her almost seven years and four colleges to finally graduate with her own mixed-and-matched degree on Pre Law, Ethology, Women’s Studies and Political Science.In the meantime, her father, President Maxwell had done a number on America. Cut ties with nations and organizations, failed military operations, dubious alliances. Almost everyone hated him and his time in office. And even having distanced herself from him from an early age, Sawyer felt the repercussions of their relations everywhere she went. Sawyer Maxwell became Sawyer Cicero after being assaulted by a small mob while working in Morocco. It took several months in the hospital for Sawyer to get back on her feet, take control of her hefty trust fund and disappear into the shadows, completely off the grid. Some tabloids reported her dead, some missing, nobody knew for sure, not even her parents or intelligence agencies.

In reality, Sawyer was bouncing around the world, exploring sights she never imagined she would see, with only a backpack and a flip-phone. It was a lonely existence but it was the price she had to pay for her freedom. She charmed ladies here and there, but she was always gone before breakfast. She got certified as a professional dog trainer in South Africa and that’s when she met her new best friend and companion: Lazarus, a 75 lb, purebred Doberman trained to protect and attack. He is always by her side, having been certified as a service and support dog for PTSD and other remnants from the incident in Morocco.

Sawyer landed in Wrenbury thinking it was time to take a break from international waters, looking for a quiet coastal town to set some roots and maybe get rid of the unbearable grief that has been festering inside of her. She comes across as a detached, unimpressed, chain smoking hermit, with a whole lot of a bad girl charm. She misses people, she misses connections, she misses not looking over her shoulder every two seconds, and letting down her guard. Maybe this town will do. 

[thatgirlkennedie]

Lost and Found; Once Forgotten, Now Replenished

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human- RK1000/Conkus/RK1K

Rating: M

Warnings: Reference to past suicide and just it’s angsty, also kinda Stockholm Syndrome

Summary:  At first, Connor felt nothing; No emotions, a purebred machine. He then felt something; confusion crossed his mind and he doesn't know what's happening to him. He felt everything; He needed to feel, Markus was there to make him feel.

Excerpt: The room was rather small; The light flickering inconsistently in the darkness as a tell-tale sign for a needed replacement. The air was thin, suffocating almost as if Connor could choke but that's not something androids could do, especially non-deviant androids. He showed no emotion in this situation; His arms and legs tied to a chair that he oddly couldn't escape from, him staring blankly with his soulless brown eyes up at his captor. This man with his bloodstained skin, tan colored trench coat, and a look of no remorse. Markus as he were, the deviant leader who raged war on the humans, maliciously murdering those who stood in his way of android freedom. No peace, only revenge for all the things humans have done to androids. He hadn't killed Connor, at least; The biggest threat to him, the one who slaughtered his people, the deviant hunter himself. No, he hadn't killed him-

Yet.

Notes: Back on my bullshit but this time with some angst. Hope you guys enjoy it~

AO3

The room was rather small; The light flickering inconsistently in the darkness as a tell-tale sign for a needed replacement. The air was thin, suffocating almost as if Connor could choke but that's not something androids could do, especially non-deviant androids. He showed no emotion in this situation; His arms and legs tied to a chair that he oddly couldn't escape from, him staring blankly with his soulless brown eyes up at his captor. This man with his bloodstained skin, tan colored trench coat, and a look of no remorse. Markus as he were, the deviant leader who raged war on the humans, maliciously murdering those who stood in his way of android freedom. No peace, only revenge for all the things humans have done to androids. He hadn't killed Connor, at least; The biggest threat to him, the one who slaughtered his people, the deviant hunter himself. No, he hadn't killed him-

  Yet.

  Connor still had a mission to uphold, a mission of taking the deviant leader down and at this point, killing him would be most beneficial. He had the calculate exactly how he could get free, kill Markus and make sure deviants were all eradicated. At the moment, he had no way to escape his restraints but he was always planning something, finding Markus’s weak points to catch him off guard which was more difficult than he assumed. Markus stood in front of him, arms crossed, his heterochromia eyes staring at him in amusement.

  “How do you feel, Connor?” Markus asked calmly.

  “I feel nothing, I'm not deviant like you.” Connor’s voice was equally as calm and well, emotionless.

  “Really, Connor? Have you ever not taken orders from someone? Ever actually felt… alive?” Connor had moments in which he didn't do exactly what he was told to do. He thought back to not shooting that Chloe android forfeiting information or letting those Traci androids escape but those were all rational choices, it had nothing to do with irrational feelings- “You know, Lieutenant Anderson… he was a great guy-”

  “Don't talk about Hank!” Connor’s LED swirled yellow to red for a bit, his voice rising steadily. Hank��� Connor tried to stop him, he wanted Hank to get help but… it was too late; That gunshot will always pave his memory.

  “Ah, so you did care for him? Caring is an emotion that humans feel, deviants feel. If you're feeling anything then you are deviant as well, hate to break it to you, Connor.” Markus had stepped closer to him.

  “I'm no deviant! I'm going to accomplish my mission which involves taking you down and move onto my next one.” Connor confirmed, his eyes narrow.

  “You could… but I know you won't.” Markus was face to face with him, his hands bracing against Connor’s wrists that were tied down. “I'm all you have left. All the human are gone, no one can give you orders anymore.” Markus somehow appeared calm yet cynical at the same time in his mannerism.

  “I'm not scared of you, Markus.” Connor’s voice had a bite to it but Markus only leaned closer to him, smirking.

  “I'm not looking for you to be afraid of me. In fact, I want you to join me. Help me lead a new Era of androids rising up against the humans and making this world our world.” Even with a dangerous tongue, Markus had determination in his voice.

  “You won't undermined me. I will stop you-” His words stopped by a pair of rough lips against his. He doesn't budge, he doesn't feel, and Markus pulled back, that same smirk gracing his face.

  “In due time you'll join me. Just have to make you deviant first.”

  “If you're so adamant about me being deviant why haven't you converted me yet?” Connor questioned and it's true, Markus could just convert others to his side without fail, why not just convert Connor as well?

  “I want you to want it. I want you to feel what made android deviate in the first place. The hatred, the beatings, the turmoil, feeling lost…” Markus backed away from him, slowly making it toward the door of the room to leave.

  “I'm going to force the deviancy out of you.”

  ---

  Connor could hear the clock ticking. It got to a point of annoyance and he wished he could break it. Markus had left him for approximately one week, two days, 20 hours, seven minutes and 42 seconds in this chair of no escape. When he finally does come back Connor had a very small feeling of relief almost. Like he… missed him? Markus was right, after all, he didn't have anyone else anymore; It dawned on him the more time that passed with him sitting in this chair that he was devoid of any companionship. It'll be a while until humans are able to come back to Detroit since the dirty bomb incident so even doing his job would be impossible until then, granted he got free from his restraints.

  Markus pointed a gun at his head and Connor flinched. He's… no, he's not scared. He can't feel that emotion, yet his thirium pump raced rapidly, his body shook a bit… Was this fear? Connor thought about fear and all the context of it but his brain is way more focused on the reason why the gun was pointed at him.

  “Are you afraid to die, Connor?” Markus asked this as if it was a normal question in a normal situation. Connor only stared. He'd like to think he wasn't afraid; His memory would be uploaded to the next Connor like it had twice already-

  In reality, there wouldn't be another Connor.

  If Connor died right now that's it, he would be no more and just the sheer thought of it made him…

  He was scared.

  “I…” He flinched again when Markus cocked the gun, closing his eyes and just waited for the inevitable.

  “You're shaking like a leaf. And here I thought you couldn't feel afraid.” Markus stepped closer to him up until the gun was pressed right against his forehead.

  “Get it over with. Clearly, you gain nothing from my existence.” Connor's voice sounded different from his normal voice, more distant, warry.

  “You're right. But…” Markus retracted the gun and placed it in his holster. “That would be no fun.” He then began untying Connor’s legs then his wrist and as soon as Connor was free, he lunged at Markus, took the gun, and had it pointed at him. Markus looked calm, too calm.

  “I'll kill you right now, Markus.” Connor said, his hands were unsteady.

  “Do it. Shoot me right here, right now, and go free.” Markus doesn't even blink, his speech unhindered. Connor began to falter. For some reason, he couldn't do it. He couldn't accomplish his mission, he couldn't take down the deviant leader. But… he had to, he must complete his mission, he…

  He shoots but it was a blank.

  Markus laughed.

  “Well look at that. You hesitated for a while there. I was convinced you wouldn't even try to shoot but it looks like there's still more work to be done. Would have been bad if there were bullets in there.” Connor scanned the gun and lo and behold it held no bullets. Without warning, Markus grabbed Connor’s leg to make him fall to the ground. He then rolled over to him and pinned him to the ground.

  “Why are you doing this?” As a response, Markus kisses him hungrily. Connor accepted this time; He doesn't kiss back but he does let Markus’s tongue slip into his mouth. Markus pulled back, teeth digging into Connor’s lip who let out a weird sound he was unfamiliar with.

  “I'm getting so close to making you see the light. One more push and you'll be free, Connor. You just have to want to feel.” Markus responded.

  “What do you have to gain. You have all your androids, why do you need me?” Now, that was the most important question. Markus looked like he was deep in thought, he soon began rising up from Connor.

  “The more the merrier.” He stood up, dusting his jacket off. “Just like you I have no one else. Yes, I have the androids but I lost my own crew in the revolution. Small sacrifices for the big picture. You can lead the new world with me and … maybe I can get a boyfriend out of it, only time will tell.” Markus shrugged before walking towards the door. Connor was quick, but Markus was quicker; He tried to sneak attack him but Markus dodged it easily; He was out the door soon enough, locking it immediately with Connor banging against it soon after.

  “Markus! You can't just leave me here!” He yelled the other's names repeatedly to no avail.

  To be free might be equidistant from his deviancy.

  ---

  Three weeks; Connor hasn't seen the sun, brighter as it reflected off the icy surroundings, he hadn't heard the crunch of snow against boots or just any voices at all. Three weeks without nothing but himself and that flickering light. He felt a lot of things now and he's confused with it all. He's scared, he's worried, he's even more upset for getting into this situation. He never saw Markus as one of an evil nature even when he did kill in cold blood; Connor did the same thing but he never tortured anyone. Interrogate, yes, but this… this felt like the end and he didn't want to die like this.

  He hated the eerie silence. He was in a corner of the room for three weeks without anything but his wits and his thoughts; Plenty of thoughts, too many thoughts. Now, he's not sure if he's deviant. He's felt more things than he wished he could feel; Sadness, loneliness, enslaved- He felt these for so long that his machine code had destroyed itself. The first time he let a tear slide down his face he knew he wasn't just a machine anymore.

  Connor heard the door slowly being opened and he turned towards it quickly. His eyes lay on Markus but he wanted to pretend that he was still more machine-like, maybe Markus would get tired of him and let him go. It was almost too hard to contain himself because really, he missed Markus so much. He was the last thing he saw and heard in three weeks and just needed to have those senses again.

  “How do you feel, Connor?”

  “I feel nothing, Markus.” He hated himself for almost crying over how good Markus sounded.

   “That's not what I wanted to hear.” There's ice in the other's voice that made Connor shudder the slightest. Markus charged towards him, lifting him up and slammed him into the wall.

  “What do you want to hear?” Connor’s thoughts were going haywire. He got a good look at Markus and it's crazy how attractive he thought Markus was. Those eyes, one blue one green, staring at him with fury. Those soft lips, Connor didn't mind if Markus would kiss him, he was, sure enough, going to enjoy it.

  “Tell me you need me, tell me you love me!” Markus screamed out and Connor flinched but doesn't say anything at first. Markus was fuming, he could analyze enough to see how angry Markus was yet Connor wasn't going to give in, he wasn't going to let Markus win this game.

  “I don't need you, I don't feel anything, you are wasting your time-” He screamed out as he felt a hand on his thirium pump. With a twist and a yank, his pump was ripped out of him, blue blood spilling and he collapsed to the ground. His system tells him he has one minute until shut down and he began freaking out.

  “If I can't have you, then no one can.” Markus spat out, holding onto the pump as he watched Connor bleed out. Connor weakly reached for him but his system was too hot, malfunctioning too much, and he was so close to dying.

  He didn't want to die.

  “M-Markus… please… I…” He doesn't know what he's saying but he could hear the seconds of his life slipping away.

  “Tell me. Say it.” Markus demanded.

  “I… love you… Markus.” There were only 10 seconds left, once it dwindled to five seconds, Markus had put his thirium pump back in place. Connor had a look of fear across his face. He never thought he'd be afraid to die and even more afraid to die at the hands of Markus himself. Markus bent down and cupped his cheeks, smiling at him as if he didn't just almost kill him.

  “I love you too, Connor.” And he kissed him gently and Connor kissed back with even more force. He was being leaned down, Markus lips moving against his and that tongue getting into his mouth without a struggle this time, Connor tangled his tongue with his as well. They stay like this for a bit before Markus pulled back leaving Connor not only breathless but desperate for more.

  “Markus…” He began saying but soon the man in question was standing them both up. Connor’s legs felt heavy like they were made of cement as Markus dragged him to the door. The door opened to a hallway that leads upward towards the skyline.

  “Let me show you something.” Markus spoke, taking Connor’s hand as he made his way to the skyline. Once up there, Connor got a good feel of the sunlight; Actually seeing the sun and watching the snowfall steadily around them. Markus extended his other arm out as if he was showing a display of some sort.

  “This is ours. Our city, our world… androids will rise above the humans and they will see exactly who were are. We are alive.” Determination rose in Markus’s voice, he turned his head towards Connor. “You are alive.” With a squeeze of his hand, Markus converted Connor completely into a deviant. Connor could feel everything now, a rush of emotions and for once, he did feel alive. He felt like he didn't have to take orders from anyone else, felt like he was his own person-

   But he needed Markus.

  It felt like he was nothing without Markus. Markus was his sun, his air, his everything. It's all he knew anymore. Connor leaned his head on his shoulder watching the quiet city around them.

  “Don't leave me.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

  “I'll never leave you.” It's all so surreal. Markus, the one who almost killed him, the one who captured and kept him hostage was now the one he could never be without and that's okay. It's twisted but he couldn't live without Markus. Everything was good now, Markus will show him the way, Markus will help him-

  Markus was all he'll ever need any more.

[thedevilsfamiliar]

Tiktok has this tendency to hate on breeders and while I do agree, back yard breeders suck ass and do NOTHING to help the breed standard, they tend to go after good breeders, unable to tell the difference between the two.

One of their most common arguments is “breeders are taking shelter dogs opportunities away!” Like

Bestie

I would never fucking get a shelter dog 💀 even if it was a ‘purebred’ dog. Purebred does NOT equal well bred. I want to know my pets parents history, I want to know what my dogs health score is, I want to be able to know in advance what my dog might get.

Another argument is “why get a purebred dog when there’s shelter dogs in need of a home” BECAUSE THEY’RE UGLY. Idc, I said it. I look at the mutts inside those cages and go “ew.” Like??? You might like pit Bull mixes, you might like dachshund mixes, chihuahua mixes, BUT I DONT. It gets so fucking irritated people going “wouldn’t you take them home?“ and then show me mutts that I personally don’t like. (Reason is that I hate short hair breeds, touch sensory goes ew).

But yeah, nothing irritates me more than having people shove their “adopt don’t shop!” Bullshit down my throat, fuck off.

[running-batty]

Man I loved my shelter dog. 100% I miss her so much after she passed suddenly two years ago. I had her for 15 years!

I never would have adopted her if I knew that she had the behavioral issues she had. She had separation anxiety and tore up our home multiple times. She bit multiple children out of anxious aggression. She was an escape artist who killed animals any time she got loose.

None of this was disclosed to my family when we adopted her.

Meanwhile my older brothers service dog was purebred German Shepard. His parents were bred specifically for their docile temperament. They didn't test for hip dysplasia back then so we couldn't ask for that but they probably would have. Even so when he later started showing signs we knew what it was. That dog was a stable reliable dog His entire life.

The rest of the dogs I owned were ones dropped on me so I'm not counting their behaviors on this.

But to imply that getting a dog somewhere else makes you responsible for dogs who can't be rehomes needing to be put down is ridiculous. Because that's what majority of those "thousands of dogs" are. Dogs who are dangerous. Dogs who are actively dying. Dogs the shelters have to take in despite knowing they legally couldn't place those dogs in a home.

Yes some if the dogs put down are perfectly adoptable but if you genuinely cared about those dogs you wouldn't post a hateful ask to someone talking about breed standard and call it cosmetic. This was a bad faith ask from the start and I hope the asker starts fostering dogs instead of this hateful nonsense. You want to save dog lives? Foster them! Fostering them gets them out if the cages of a shelter, helps them get used to people and gives them a far better chance of adoption. Put your money where your mouth is @hanwilb and stop with the backhanded bullshit.

your dogs seem very happy please consider adopting instead of shopping, the dogs you love so much are going hungry, mistreated, and euthanized in the hundreds of thousands each year. cosmetics are worth nothing to the dog itself , only to its owner. wish you all the best.

I appreciate your concern. Adopting a dog in need of a home is indeed a nice thing to do. I was in shelter work for a while and my last two dogs were adopted.

Both of them died from (likely genetically inherited) health problems at 6 years old. One of them had severe behavioral problems which affected his quality of life. I am at a point in my experience of owning dogs where I would prefer to avoid having a dog die young from medical problems which could be prevented through careful breeding, and I am also wanting a dog who could potentially compete in sports.

I am sure that I will adopt again in the future. I will probably buy dogs from a breeder again in the future. Dogs dying in shelters is not my fault.

[dadboyshiro]

Current mood: Pidge thinking that she and Keith have gotten to a point in their relationship where they should totally get a dog. Keith is okay with this; not exactly ecstatic or upset, just ‘okay.’ Keith’s interest becoming a bit more piqued when he comes across Pidge looking up local shelter information, because adoption wasn’t what he had been expecting. Keith, both excited at the prospect of adopting a shelter dog but also somewhat anxious, bluntly wondering out loud “Why not just get a purebred puppy or something? Shelter dogs probably have all kinds of problems,” to which Pidge immediately responds without hesitation that “That’s absolute bullshit. Just because they’re shelter dogs doesn’t mean they have ‘problems,’ Keith. Abandoned dogs deserve a warm home and to be loved too. And what’s so special about those inbred purebreds? Mutts are the unique ones!” Keith trying not to let it show that what she’d said made him a bit flushed, because even though she was clearly talking about their would-be dog, it also kinda hit home for him a bit, too. 

Keith trying to keep calm and cool on the day they finally go the shelter, even though secretly on the inside he’s both extremely on edge and excited; excited because--well, it’s obvious why. But he’s also extremely nervous because what if they do go through with adopting a shelter dog, and it turns out to be an absolute nightmare? The wasted time and effort aren’t really what Keith is worried about, but moreso the chance of Pidge’s optimistic outlook on shelter pets changing, and because of that, perhaps even him. Keith is projecting himself onto the dog a little too much and stressing out over nothing, tbh.

Keith’s worries immediately washing away when they get to the shelter and he finds the perfect pup. Not too old, maybe around 9 months, a purebred mutt in every sense of the word who stays in the back corner of their cage in solitude for the most part, quiet and watching as people pass them by without thought. Keith and this dog just staring at each other. Pidge wandering over after a while from her own dog searching, noticing the way Keith is so fixated on this mutt, and immediately requesting the staff to let the two of them spend some 2-on-1 time with the dog in one of the little ‘meeting’ rooms. Keith trying to play it down and insist that no that’s not necessary, he was just looking, but it’s too late and Pidge is already dragging him along behind the staff person and the dog towards the room. Keith watching quietly as Pidge pets and loves up on the dog, who’s wagging their tail like it’s the first time in the world someone’s ever told them they were ‘”So cute, holy shit.” Keith trying his damned hardest not to turn into a visible pile of mush when the dog goes over to him and rests their head in his lap and closes their eyes, letting Keith pet them, and Keith falling absolutely in love with this dog. Keith being relieved that he doesn’t have to actually say it himself because Pidge is the one who insists they bring the dog home, and rushes off to find a staff person to help with paperwork. Keith totally bonding with the dog when the two of them are left alone, and Keith being unable to hide his goofy fucking smile. 

(Pidge totally knows the entire time that Keith is smitten w/ this dog because her boyfriend is practically an open book to her at this point he’s so fucking easy to read lol)

Also --

Pidge: *Looks at phone* God, we’ve been gone for like, 4 hours... I hope the baby’s okay. I hate leaving them alone for so long :(

Keith: It’s not a baby, it’s a dog. And it’s fine.

Also Keith: *Regularly talks to the dog as if it understands, shares his food with the dog, uses the in-house security camera app on his phone to check on the dog regularly, once accidentally stepped on the dogs foot and felt so bad he couldn’t look the dog in the eye for a week, probably cuddles the dog more than he cuddles Pidge when they’re sleeping*

[caredogstips]

Microsoft’s new dog-labeling app presents hilarious outcomes for cats and presidential candidates

By now, most of us have given up on our annual January attempts to molted some of the plethora weight our widespread holiday feasting slapped on us. We’ve held dieting a shot. We’ve affected the gym. The most frantic of us may have even dipped with fucking CrossFit. Yet as the weeks go by, we’re gradually adjusted to our brand-new, slightly portlier illustrations and hearing to espouse the additional padding.

At least, that’s how most of us role. A select few will take one last-place, pathetic stair and decide to give working out at home a try. You know, because the driving to and from the gym is what certainly suctions about works out. Not everyone can afford to shell out for their own cardio machine and an array of weights, though, and opt instead to offer still-obscene dollar amounts for fruitless machines that predict a shortcut to health and fitness. For precedent …

HTAG 1 TT# 5. Osim iGallopHETAG 1 TT

Do you like horseback riding, but hate the notion of owning and caring for a giant swine? That … actually forms feel. Riding’s pretty good exercise, but horses are a hassle unless you happen to have a handy stable nearby, which you don’t. Also, a pony devour and turds, and keeping up with both expenditures about as much as a car remittance every month.

Way less happy to place a bullet in your vehicle where reference is breaks down, though . It’s not the ideal setup for the occasional 20 -minute workout, is what I’m adding. So why not get a phony mare? I’m not speak about kids’ rocking horse, or one of those mechanical police western-themed prohibits are so fond of( although if you have the chamber and money, sacred shit, utterly buy a mechanical cop ). “Theres” designs out there that simulate your body’s push during going, minus the “hanging on for dear life” constituent — which, come to think of it, is approximately 99 percent of the exercising you get from pony journeying. Oh well. Still, maybe products such as the iGallop aren’t a ended waste of time. Let’s appreciate what the ads say it can do TAGEND

… um. Ma’m? I’m not sure if you’re well informed it, but there’s no way you’re performing in an ad for a fitness product. Maybe that’s what you were hired for, but that’s either a Jessica Simpson video or the first times of a softcore porn flick. There’s no way whatever the hell you’re sitting on is a machine for “exercise, ” and even less of a chance told machine doesn’t vibrate.

OK, perhaps I’m being a little unfair. Maybe that shabby GIF is just an anomaly, and the product’s official promo draws don’t make it looks just like a orgasmatron.

Wrong !

I’m not saying this is necessarily a bad product. Few happenings that are designed to stimulate your ass slimmer are without at least a bit inherent ethic. Still, I don’t care how great a core manager this thing is — if you’re willing to move $400 at it, you might as well protrude it in a neighbourhood of honor in your living room and perhaps glue a few dildos on it. Because there’s no way in blaze any person who has considers it is going to believe it’s anything but a fancy Sybian.

HTAG 2 TT# 4. The Face TrainerHETAG 2 TT

SkyMall is a gift that stops on giving for enterprising slapstick websites. Their sales are comprised of 70 percent panicked knack orders, 30 percentage irony, and 100 percentage is just so endured and/ or drunk that ordering wine glass incumbent necklaces for your entire extended family seems like a funny meaning. Still, at least the company generally restraint its antics to the kind of clever-but-not-quite-useful trash Billy Mays had an opportunity to peddled back in the working day. It’s not like their target audience is more into the fitness marke–

Oh, god dammit .

Yes, that is a workout concealment for your face muscles. And yes , it works by working “proven principals of resistance trained to facial muscles” — which, let’s face it, is just a fancy terminology for “It’s a really fucking tight disguise, and now you have to represent faces. Cause us money.” The Face Trainer promises to take years off you, which is a claim I actually amply imagine, because there’s no way you won’t get chased off a cliff by a torch-wielding syndicate if you go out in public wearing this thing, doing frenetic Frankenstein faces to keep it from suffocating you.

Unfortunately, it looks like the product was too stupid for even SkyMall, since it’s nowhere to be found on their area today. Or is it ? A search with the keyword “trainer” gives me a bunch of Mad Max -themed neon trikes, panicking elliptical trainers with random lines, a Star Wars “Force trainer” because of fucking course, and … the “Tribal Style Giraffe Mask.”

Look at the Tribal Style Giraffe Mask. Look at it TAGEND Somewhere, the Jigsaw Killer is furiously masturbating .

There’s no way that act won’t slimed the shit out of your face the second you try it on, likely bear-trap-style. And you will try it on, if simply to stillness its constant whispering in eldritch tongues.

HTAG 3 TT# 3. ViPRHETAG 3 TT So you’re marching down the common early in the morning, doing something I generously presuppose is not crime-related, when you abruptly come across groupings of creepy fitness types waving immense records around.( Oh, get your sentiment out of the trough .) Like so TAGEND

“You won’t get away this time, Cobra Commander! ”

Hahahahahaha! What the actual fucking is going on? Did you stumble upon a Warriors -style territorial engagement between two 1980 s-themed CrossFit cliques? A no-budget Masters Of The Universe LARP?

Nothing that sane, I’m afraid. You’ve exactly watched the ViPR in action, and things aren’t going to get any better once those people actually start moving.

If you didn’t watch that video, two things. One: Delight do; you owe it to yourself. Two: That precise same convict, exclusively much louder.

The ViPR infomercial is a simple piece of work at heart.

Surely .

Basically, it’s several spandex-clad fitness enthusiasts doing the Stormtrooper stun baton twirl …

No need to click that relation. It searched exactly like this in the movie .

… simulating everyday pleasures such as shoveling …

I feel ?

… and even clumsily engaging in some of that bullshit Klingon pretend fighting in which they slap each others’ bat’leths and expect parties to be impressed.

Nerds !

Only they don’t have dazed wands, or scoops, or unwieldable blade things. They’re doing everything there is with a fucking log. Called ViPR . I entail, I imagine the record is called ViPR, but maybe I misconstrue something and it’s actually the true reputation of the entity that possesses all these beings and obliges them to do stupid shit for our amusement.

Example .

Again, I’m not saying this stupidly-named fucking thought is inevitably a bad produce at heart. It has a number of gaps that it declarations moves it fully consistent with a number of other incomprehensibly-named gadgets the more impressionable gym might boast, so I guess you can at the least join all those bullshit events into a monstrous Voltron of uselessness when you inevitably get bored with it. It’s just that if you’re trying to get in shape, I’d wager there are better ways to go about it than an exercise implement that moves you look like the Star Wars Kid grew up and connected a fraternity.

RTAG 34 TTRead more:

It’s easy to think of Microsoft as a giant, boring corporation that is good at the boring trash but bad at everything else. Over the past several months, though, the computing monstrous has shown off a bit personality with its artificial intelligence projectsthe latest of which is made to identify dog engenders.

Fetch !, the latest be applied in A.I. are derived from the quirky and experimental change arm called Microsoft Garage, can take any scene you shed at it and develop an trained guess at what dog is in the epitome. It’s facial acknowledgment but for pups.

The app, available on Web and mobile, also provides some fragments of information for each produce, discontinuing lore on a dog’s disposition, size, coat and what types of houses are best suited for each.

Fetch! differentiates the first crack at animal discovery from Microsoftprior to it, the company rolled out several apps specific for identifying information about humen. Using its neural networks scaffold, Microsoft created tools that guess a person’s age, identifies twinneds, and detects passions in facial expressions.

So how accurate is Fetch? Stick with purebred bird-dogs and it’s pretty good.

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

Mixed reproduces threw the app for a loop.

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

Dogs in disguise can beat the algorithms.

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

It didn’t do enormous with caricature dogs…

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

… though in it’s justification, Charlie B. Barkin from All Dogs Go to Heaven was technically dead and Snoopy was acting as a World War I fighter pilot, so Fetch! is rightthere are no pups to be found in those images.

Fetch! also thinks every feline is a pomeranian.

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

Microsoft Fetch

It might not be for felines, but Microsoft tones Fetch! isn’t just for dogsit’s for humen as well. “Just for recreation, we include a mode that would allow us to find out what hound engenders you and your friends are, ” the app description reads.

It’s smart of Microsoft to include that in its programming a room be held accountable for photographs of parties, because that’s exactly what everyone was going to heave at the app anyway. There’s simply one real practice to take advantage of that boast to the best of its ability: by throwing the remaining presidential candidates at it.

Microsoft Fetch

“Gets along with just about everyone” couldn’t be further from the truth for Ted Cruz, a follower who has managed to irritate even his closest friends in the U.S. Senate. But “eager to please” is mostly how his foe Marco Rubio described him on the campaign trail, saying he is “willing to say or do anything that are intended to win.”

Microsoft Fetch

“Face of a werewolf.” Yep, that checks out.

Microsoft Fetch

Rubio is the youngest party extending for chairwoman, so energetic and anxious fit him well. And his path to succes is in need of him to soak up voters from lesser nominees as they drop out of the hasten, which is basically preying on small-scale swine. He’s emphatically vocalhe just seems to say the same circumstance over and over again when he now open the mouth.

Microsoft Fetch

Jeb Bush( likely the inspiration for the Retrieve! mention with his Jeb! branding) is the real golden retriever here , not Ted Cruz. He’s just waiting for the voters to realize that.

Microsoft Fetch

John Kasich has been in politics for a very long time. He knows the game. Has it all precisely been an ongoing distraction to keep him from rending up tissues in the trash bin?

Microsoft Fetch

Bernie Sanders is no other candidate passing for chairman who isn’t beholden to the Big MilkBone manufacture. He wants to give every person the opportunity to be a good dog.

Microsoft Fetch

Everyone knows Hillary Clinton’s resume. They know what she’s reached and what she wants to do. But to earn the confidence of the voters, she is going to have to finally answer the issues to: is she a rough or smooth collie?

Photo via Microsoft

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