#ANYWAY I think dog grooming would be a great career for me if I can get the chronic pain under control

[pawsitivevibe]

I dunno why everyone says they hate grooming and hand stripping dogs. I find it so soothing. I would probably go for hours if Arthur didn't let me know he was done with it.

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.

[chromalogue]

The Clock Strikes Midnight

A story that I wrote for my 8-year-old niece as a gift, “illustrated” with pictures I printed off the internet and cut out and recombined, and then photographed under what I realize now were very poor lighting conditions.

 A lot of people know the story of when Cinderella was young. They know that she had a wicked stepmother and two wicked stepsisters who made her wear rags and clean the house while they sat idle.  They know that her fairy godmother helped her go to the royal ball by turning her rags into a beautiful dress and glass slippers, a pumpkin into a coach, a rat into a coachman, mice into footmen, and lizards into horses.  They know that she danced with the prince until the enchantment started to wear off, and on the stroke of midnight she fled the palace and left one slipper.  They’ve heard all about how the prince searched through the entire kingdom to find the woman whose foot fit the slipper.  They know the prince married Cinderella with a glad heart.  But people don’t know what happened after she got married.

[Image description: Castle Neuschwanstein, in the mountains, with a cutout of a coach emerging from the front gate. End image description.]

Most of it was good.  Cinderella got to live in a palace with a very nice husband.  There was always enough to eat, and she was able to send money back to her father.  She didn’t have to clean from sunup to sundown, although sometimes, when she was working on a thorny problem, she did anyway.  It helped her think. 

Cinderella’s wicked stepmother had started going to therapy, and now she was Cinderella’s occasionally cranky but really quite decent stepmother.  And now that Cinderella didn’t have to live under the same roof as her stepsisters, they all got along much better.  Lacey, one stepsister, had married a seamstress and they had adopted a son and a daughter.  Tilly, the other stepsister, had always been good in history and had decided to pursue it as a career.  She worked at the new university.

The prince’s parents, the old king and queen, had retired and given Prince Charming the throne.  They said they wanted him to inherit the kingdom in the prime of his life, while they were still there to enjoy his rule and to give advice if he really needed it. There would have to be an heir eventually, which meant that someday Cinderella would be expected to at least think about having a child, but she was still very young, and there would be plenty of time for that later.  So she spent her time looking after the kingdom instead.

But not everything was good all the time.  One day, about two years after Charming had married Cinderella, and after he had become king, he had to leave the kingdom for an important diplomatic trip. He would have loved to take Cinderella with him, but one of the neighbouring countries had a new leader who nobody trusted, so one of them had to stay at home, just in case.  

The king had been travelling for only an hour when he felt his coach come to a halt.  Before he could get out to see what was the matter, the door of the coach burst open, a bag was thrown over his head, and he was carried off kicking and struggling. His kidnappers threw him into another coach, and gallopped away.  

King Charming tried to keep track of the turns, and guess where they were by the feel of the road under him, but he lost track after a couple of hours.  His kidnappers rode with him all day.  The air had the chill of night again before the coach slowed and stopped.  They made him get out and walk, and he heard mighty doors close behind him.

After awhile, he was allowed to stop, and his captors pulled the bag off his head.  He was in an opulent throne room.  Standing over him was the ruler of the neighbouring kingdom, Jingo.  Once upon a time, Lord Dampnut had looked like everyone else, but he thought that he was better than everyone else, and went to extraordinary lengths so that everyone would know it.  He kidnapped faeries and forced them to make his teeth supernaturally white. Every morning he bathed in carrot juice to make his skin a gleaming orange, and he had a small, expensive dog that he kept right on top of his head.  “Hello, King Charming,” he said.  He had a very firm handshake.

[Image description: an opulent hall with a chandelier.  Donald Trump stands clad in fearsome spiky armour, and wearing a Pomeranian on his head. End image description.]

“Hello, Lord Dampnut,” said the king.  And because he was royalty, and expected to act very formally with other heads of state, instead of yelling and screaming and demanding why they’d kidnapped him and shoved a bag over his head, he said, “To what do I owe the honour of this... unexpected invitation?”

“I called you here to have a little conversation on my terms,” said Lord Dampnut. “You’ve been stealing water from the great republic of Jingo, and we won’t stand for it.”

“Goodness,” said the king, “please do tell me what’s happening.”

“The Elva River runs through Jingo,” Lord Dampnut said, “before it reaches Vingjarnlegur.”

“Yes,” said the king.

“Well?” said Lord Dampnut.

“Well?” said the king, aware that this was not good protocol, but a little at a loss for words.  

“You’re stealing Jingo’s water, plain and simple!” roared Dampnut.  “You suck it right out of our country into yours. And then it flows into the ocean, and you put boats on it, and let all the nations of the world sail on my water!  And mark my words, you’ll pay for it.  You’ll pay for the water you take, or we’ll build a dam, and you’ll pay for that.”

“Lord Dampnut,” said the king, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “what you are describing is simply how rivers work.”

“That’s the problem with you people!” Dampnut raged.  “You go on and on about how rivers work now, without ever thinking about how rivers could work.  My advisors tried to tell me the same thing, and you know what I did?  I fired them.  We need new people with new ideas.  And if you won’t do what’s right by Jingo, King Charming, I’ll rain down fire and fury the likes of which you have never seen before.”

“Do you have a cell for me?” the king said plaintively.  “I think I would like to go to my cell now.”

Dampnut’s men took him to the dungeon, and locked him in a cell.  There the king found the other people in his entourage: his page, his butler, the groom, the coachwoman, and some footmen. Most of them just sat there dejected. But one of them, a footman, jumped up when he saw the king coming.  His cell was right across from the king’s.  

The footman waited until the dungeon guards walked away.  Then he whispered, “Your majesty, I believe I can help.”

“Any help would be very welcome...”  The king trailed off, because he didn’t know the footman’s name. He wasn’t one of the ones the king had grown up with in the palace.  It was one of his wife’s people.  Nice fellow. Hard worker.  Vegetarian.

“Lenjimux,” the footman supplied.  “My name is Lenjimux.  I think I can get out of my cell later tonight, and go for help.”

“Can you get me out of my cell?” the king asked.

“Sorry, sire.  It doesn’t work that way.”

Dinner was curried chickpeas, because Lord Dampnut hated curry and he hated chickpeas, and he thought the two of them together were the worst thing he could feed to anyone.  The king rather liked it.  Then he sat down on the cold stone floor, and waited.  

He had been waiting for hours when all of a sudden, the clock struck midnight with a tremendous BONGing noise.  Lord Dampnut had insisted on the biggest, loudest, best bells, and never mind that they rattled teeth all over the kingdom.  Some people deserved to have their teeth rattled, he said.  

But Lord Dampnut was not worth paying attention to at the moment, because suddenly Lenjimux’s clothes collapsed, empty.  As the king watched, wide-eyed, a little grey mouse clambered over one sleeve.  He scurried under the bars and into the dungeon corridor.  He chirped up at the king, and then took off running. 

[Image description: in a dungeon, a mouse standing in front of a pile of discarded clothes. End image description.]

Cinderella woke early the next day.  She wasn’t worried about her husband.  In those days the only way to get a message anywhere was to have someone carry it.  The trip would take three days, and then it would take three more days for a messenger to ride back and let her know that the king had arrived safely.  She waited and hoped, of course, but she didn’t worry. It had only been a day, after all.

So she was quite surprised when a page appeared in the hallway, out of breath. “Your majesty,” the little girl wheezed, “urgent message for you in the drawing room.”

Cinderella went downstairs and found Lenjimux, also out of breath.  He was wearing only a burlap feed bag, and he was covered in dirt and bleeding from a dozen scratches.  The kitchen had already sent up a pitcher of water, and someone had put down towels so that Lenjimux could sit down without muddying up the furniture.  It must be very urgent, for him to need to see her before he’d had a chance to put on real clothes.  

“Coach ambushed,” he said, between gulps of water.  “Lord Dampnut.  I ran all night, but there’s only so far a mouse can get.  When the sun came up and I changed back, his police found me. They recognized my accent and I was afraid they would take me right back to the dungeon, but instead they said I didn’t belong in their country and threw me back across the border.”

“Lucky for us,” Cinderella said.  “What does Lord Dampnut want with my husband?”

“He thinks the fact that the Elva begins in Jingo makes it his river, and he wants us to pay for the water that flows into Vingjarnlegur.”

“What a silly man!”  Cinderella jumped to her feet.  “We have to get Charming out of there.”  She turned to the page.  “Your name is Hannah, isn’t it?  Please tell run up and tell my ladies’ maid that I require the dress and shoes I wore to my first royal ball.  Then tell the footman George to meet me in the stable.  After that, please go and tell Stu the coachman to saddle up my coach, with my old team.  Finally, fetch the Prime Minister, the Captain of the Guard, and my fairy godmother, please.  Tell them what has happened, but tell them that Cinderella is taking care of it, if you please.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the little girl said, and ran off.

Cinderella turned to Lenjimux.  “You’ve earned a nice long rest,” she said.

“Your majesty,” he said, “if I can have twenty minutes for a bath and some clothes, nothing would please me more than to accompany you.”

It took a little longer than that to get the coach out of storage and the horses saddled, but soon they were off.  The Prime Minister and the Captain of the Guard ran along behind, shouting bad words, until the palace was out of sight.  

Lenjimux slept in the coach.  Cinderella stared out the open window, partly because she was making plans and partly because nothing could get the smell of rotten pumpkin out of the upholstery.  

It had taken King Charming’s kidnappers all day to reach Lord Dampnut’s palace because they were avoiding the roads.  It took Cinderella only a few hours to get to the border Vingjarnlegur shared with Jingo.  She told the border guards that she was going to do some shopping, and they let her through.

Lord Dampnut’s palace was on a hill overlooking the busiest city in Jingo. Since there was nothing to be done yet, Cinderella spent the day shopping and making small talk with people in the city.  She learned all about the palace.  Lord Dampnut liked to tell everyone about it, including how many guards he had and where they all were.  

When the sun went down, Cinderella returned to the coach with dinner for everyone. She told them what she had learned. Under the cover of darkness, they slowly made their way as close to the palace as possible, and made plans.  

The big bells startled all of them, and they jumped out of the coach, which was already going soft and mushy.  But they all knew what to do, and they were ready.  

The horses turned back into lizards, and Stu, now a rat, led them over the palace wall.  Lenjimux and George turned into mice.  Cinderella, now clad in rags, tucked her glass slippers into her apron, tossed the rotten pumpkin over the palace wall, and put Lenjimux and George into her pocket.

She waited a little while, and then walked barefoot to the main palace gate. Thorns and sharp rocks cut her feet, and she didn’t have to work too hard to look upset.  “Hello,” she said to the guards.  “I’m so sorry... I forgot the password to the servants’ gate, and I’m late for work already, and I’m going to be in so much trouble!”

[Image description: Cinderella, in a green dress, runs up a staircase.  Pasted around her are a couple of mice, a rat, and a rotten pumpkin. End image description.]

“Lord Dampnut despises tardiness,” one of the guards said.  

“That means he hates it when you’re late,” the other one supplied helpfully. “You’ll have to go straight to him and report yourself.”

“Where do I find him?” Cinderella asked.  

“If he’s still awake, he’s in his study.  Go and see him.  He’ll probably fire you.”

“Thank you,” said Cinderella, and tried to look tired and humble and downtrodden as she walked up the front path.

“Not that way!” one of the guards cried.  “Around through the servant’s door, like always!  Do you want someone to see you?”

“Oh… oh, of course,” she said quietly.  Well, that had been silly.  She would have to make everyone believe she was a servant to do this properly.  

She slipped in the servants’ entrance.  It led straight to a stone staircase.  Now, all she had to do was find the dungeonmaster, get the mice to take his keys, and…

A hand fell on her shoulder.  “Oh, thank goodness,” a woman’s voice said.  “Here, you take his tray to him.” Someone put a tray of pastries in Cinderella’s hands.

“To who?” she asked.

“To Lord Dampnut, of course!  The situation with Vingjarnlegur has him just beside himself!”

“Will you walk with me a little while?” Cinderella asked, groping around in the darkness of the stairwell.  “I’m new, and I don’t know how to find the room yet.”

“Of course, dear.  I’m Rose.”

“Cin--”  She stopped. Cinderella was not a very common name. “Cindy,” she said.  “What is the situation with Vingjarnlegur?”

“His Excellency is in the middle of some very tense negotiations with the Vingjarnlegurian king,” said Rose.  “The king is still saying no.”

“I see,” said Cinderella.  “Well, I hope that right wins out in the end.”

“Me too,” said Rose.  She opened a door, and suddenly they were in a regular palace corridor, wide and gleaming with expensive fixtures.  She pointed at a door.  “He’s just over in that one.”  There was a loud crash, and both women winced.  

Cinderella thanked Rose, and took the tray to the door.  She stopped partway, as if to straighten her ragged skirts. Really, she was taking the mice out of her pocket.  “Find the dungeonmaster,” she whispered to George and Lenjimux.  “Get his keys.  I’ll find you.”

She picked up the tray again, and knocked on the door.

Lord Dampnut flung the door open.  “Finally!” he roared.  “I called you fifteen minutes ago!  Were you having your nails done or something?”  He snatched the tray out of her hands, grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her towards the fireplace.  “It’s filthy.”

She got down on her hands and knees.  “Someone’s been burning grease in it,” she reported.  “It gunks up everything.”

“It’s not my problem,” he shot back.  “It’s your problem.  My problems are real problems.  My problem is the safety and security of this great nation.  I’ll tell you what I should do… I should just announce that we have a trade deal and invite everyone to the castle.  His wife and everyone.  Then he’ll have to say yes.”

Cinderella was pretty sure it wouldn’t work that way, but she kept her mouth shut.  Lord Dampnut was ranting like she wasn’t even there.  

The fireplace really was filthy, so she was still cleaning it when two little faces nosed into the corner.  “Did you get the keys?” she whispered to George and Lenjimux.

[Image description: a cutout of a ragged Cinderella scrubs the hearth, with a bucket on one side of her and two exceedingly blurry mice on the other. End image description.]

They shook their little heads no.  

“Did you find the dungeonmaster?”

They nodded.

“And he didn’t have the keys?”

They nodded again.

Dampnut was still blustering.  He was pacing back and forth.  “I could send for his wife.  I could tell her I have her husband, and if she doesn’t agree to everything I say, I could just never let him out.”  He rattled a set of keys, and chortled.  “But that would never work.  She’d see how big my palace is, and see that it’s the best palace, and she would fall in love with me instead.”

Cinderella stifled a laugh, turning it into a sneeze instead.  And then she froze, because she realized that she’d just heard him jingling keys.

George and Lenjimux had already darted out past her.  She heard Lord Dampnut cry out, and jumped to her feet. His eyes were very large, and the dog on his head was barking furiously.  “Mice!” he said.

“Why thank you,” Cinderella said, curtseying a little, to buy the mice time.

“Not nice, you ninny, mice!  There are mice in my study.”  He started to turn around to show her.

“It’s very nice in your study,” she pretended to agree.  Lenjimux and George were up on the table now, pulling the keys along.  “The painting above my head, is that a Renoir?”

He waved a hand in dismissal.  “I don’t know.  It went with the drapes.  That’s not the important thing.  The important thing is that there are mice--”

The keys fell to the ground, and Lord Dampnut turned.  He gave out a shout, and started for George and Lenjimux.

Cinderella pulled off her glass slipper and threw it at him.  It missed him, and shattered on the stones.  The mice darted forward with the keys, and she scooped them back into her pocket, careful to avoid the broken glass.  “Let’s go!” she said.  

Lord Dampnut tried to run after her, but jumped back with a yelp.  “I cut myself!” he whined.  “Somebody? Someone come and clean up this glass!” He called after Cinderella, “You’re fired!  You hear me? You’ll never work in this town again!”

Cinderella followed the mice down the servants’ staircase to the dungeon.       There were a lot of people heading for Lord Dampnut’s study, but none of them paid attention to the ragged barefoot girl covered in soot.  

[Image description: Two illustrations side by side.  In one, two mice hold a ring of keys in their mouths on the table.  In the other, in a stone corridor Prince Charming’s butler opens a dungeon door while Cinderella (in black and white) looks on.  End image description.]

The dungeonmaster was nowhere in sight.  He hadn’t really wanted to give his keys to Lord Dampnut, and when Dampnut insisted, had gone to bed in a huff.  In the dungeon, Cinderella unlocked the butler’s door first, and gave him the keys.  He continued unlocking the doors while she went to her husband’s cell.  

“Cinderella!” the king cried, leaping to his feet.  “I knew you’d think of something, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon!”

She gently patted her front pocket, and Lenjimux and George squeaked a greeting. “You forget, I have some advantages.”

The butler didn’t just free the entourage; he freed the whole dungeon. Lord Dampnut, it turned out, had very funny ideas of who was a criminal and who wasn’t.

It was the middle of the summer, and Cinderella had seen the sky turning pale in the east on her way down.  Now, she hustled the freed prisoners to the end of the hall.

There were noises, and the dungeonmaster appeared, yawning and blinking, holding a candle.  He looked at the several dozen prisoners thronging the corridor.  “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this,” he announced. He started to shuffle back to bed, and then seemed to think it over.  “Would you have room for an extra person?”

“You’re welcome to come with us,” said the king, “but we don’t, er, really keep anyone in our dungeons.”

“I can be useful in other ways,” said the dungeonmaster.  He waved Cinderella and the king into his rooms. For a moment they wondered what they were doing there, but then he opened a door to the outside of the castle.  He had his own private entrance.  While Cinderella and the king ushered everyone out the door, the dungeonmaster quickly packed a bag.

[Image description: in the stone corridor, a massive man in an executioner’s hood stands holding a pastel rainbow rolling suitcase. End image description.]

Outside, it had gotten light enough to see.  The palace grounds were very quiet.  Lord Dampnut thought gardens were boring, so he had had a golf course put in instead.  The escapees had to creep very carefully.

Cinderella followed the smell to the rotting pumpkin.  The rat and the lizards were all there.  Now all they had to do was wait for the sun to come up.  They hunkered down against the palace wall, whispering back and forth.

Gradually, the sun’s rays crept over the horizon, and then over the wall. First they struck Cinderella, and her dress went from rags to the finest silk.  The soot vanished from her face and hair, and her glass slippers appeared on her feet, the broken one made good as new.   Next the sun hit the pumpkin.  For a moment it smelled worse, and then it billowed outward, turning into a magnificent coach with velvet seats.  It still stank faintly of rotting vegetables.  The lizards became a team of the finest horses, the rat turned back into Stu the coachman, and Lenjimux and George were footmen again.  Their clothes had been neatly folded, and they dressed in a hurry.  

[Image description: a super fancy black and gold coach at the foot of a brick wall.  End image description.]

But now that Cinderella’s glass slipper was back on her foot, there was nothing keeping Lord Dampnut in place.  The coach was ready to move when he limped out onto the green, brandishing a golf club.  “All of you stop!” he roared.  “If you no-talent, low-IQ losers think you can beat me, you’re sadly mistaken!  I have the best army and the best dungeon, and you have nothing at all!”

The dog on his head snarled, and bit his ear.  

Lord Dampnut hooted and clapped a hand to his ear.  His guards were visible, pouring out of the palace, but they were too far away to do anything as the horses started forward and the coach set off.  Cinderella, the dungeonmaster, the footmen, and the king and his entourage were crammed into the coach, and behind it ran the other prisoners.

They approached the palace gates.  Faced with a fast-approaching coach and no instructions to the contrary, the gatekeepers opened the gate.  The coach surged out, and the freed prisoners behind it.  By this point the gatekeepers suspected that something was amiss, but by the time they closed the gate, the only person they stopped was a furious Lord Dampnut, who bounced his golf club off the wrought iron. “This country doesn’t deserve me!” he bellowed, loudly enough for everyone on the other side to hear him.  “I’ll find a new country, a better country! I’ll make it the best country in the world!”

[Image description: two pictures side by side.  In the first picture, Donald Trump stands in front of a huge mansion, wearing spiky black armour and a cape and brandishing a golf club.  The dog on his head is furious.  In the second picture, Trump stands in front of wrought iron gates making a ridiculous face, and the dog still looks menacing.  End image description.]

On the other side of the gate, the freed prisoners dispersed, some going home to their families, and others walking along the road that would eventually take them to Vingjarnlegur.  

Cinderella and the king hung over the backs of the seats, watching them go. Finally they turned around and sat properly.  The coach was very crowded.  

“So,” Cinderella said, “I think we should be careful about our future dealings with Jingo.”

“Lord Dampnut was right about one thing, though,” the king said.  “That poor country does not deserve him.”

“I’d be surprised if he’s still in charge this time next year,” said the dungeonmaster.  Ex-dungeonmaster; he had been talking with the king’s groom about horses.  “You might have noticed, he’s not very good at getting people to like him, and he’s only getting worse.  We’re all very lucky that your wife came to get you, your majesty.”

“We are!” King Charming agreed.

“It was a group effort,” Cinderella said modestly.

They crossed the border into Vingjarnlegur before midmorning. It was a relief to be home, and when her own familiar palace came into view, Cinderella was so happy that she thought she might cry.

Then there were shouts outside.  People were watching for the coach, and had spotted it.  When the travellers disembarked, the Prime Minister, the Captain of the Guard, and Cinderella’s fairy godmother all started talking at once.

Cinderella held a hand up, and they all fell silent.  “I don’t know about anyone else,” she said, “but I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”

Everyone else agreed that this was a very wise thing.  And I don’t know if Cinderella and the king lived happily ever after, but they did take a good long nap.  

[Image description: a couple stands between two pillars, silhouetted against a castle.  It’s actually the cover of The Princess Bride with the background cut out and replaced with Neuschwanstein again. End image description.]

The End.

[defenestram]

Have a series of drabbles for my Paragon Chronoskimmer nerd, Jude Breckenrdige. It’s a long read, so I’m going to put it under the cut.

(Careful, she’s a disaster)

RETROGRADE

Jude had known that she was an adopted child long before her powers kicked in. Her parents had sat her down when she was just in kindergarten and told her that she had been adopted as a baby but that didn’t mean that she was any less wanted or loved.

Still, it was hard to look back at her brunette parents with a blonde daughter in all the photos. It was hard to see the smile on their faces and wonder if they ever thought about people would think if or when her hair brightened.

It was hard to go back and imagine the exact moment when her mother’s heart broke -- Mrs. Breckenridge, I’m afraid your options are limited. We can keep trying the treatment, but the success rate is not ideal -- and the way her father held onto her mother as if she would break apart if he even dared to think of letting her go.

It was strange to have heard the phrase adoption so casually since the age of five, only to realize at eight that she had never been and never would be her parents’ first pick for a child so much as she was what they settled on.

The realization set something off. Jude fell backwards, but she didn’t feel her back hit the floor. Her vision rewound as her eyes physically shut, and Jude dreamed of things that had been and might be.

Clock Struck One

A girl with your intellect should not still be languishing as an undeclared major. Have you given any thought about what you want to be when you grow up Judith?

“Jude,” the blonde retorted casually and easily as she drummed her fingers nervously on all the papers and pamphlets laid down on the table before her. Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she stared down so many possibilities -- biologist, doctor, geneticist, so many careers with the word ist in the title. “And you really don’t know me that well if you think I haven’t thought about this at all. I have. I’ve thought about this since I was a little girl, but--”

Her teeth pressed down on the flesh of her bottom lip ever-so-slightly harder as she tried to think of a life in the sciences, or maybe a life spent translating or creating languages, or perhaps she should study humans and their various cultural practices, or maybe, maybe.... maybe she was meant to design buildings with rulers and logic and arithmetic.

Jude sighed, buried her head into her hands and peeked at her guidance counselor through the gaps of her fingers.

“Can I try this again next semester? There’s just so many things to think about, so many variables, and I’m just... I’m so overwhelmed by it all.”

In reality, she didn’t want limits on possibility.

After all, why narrow life down to a creek when you could see all the possible rivers leading to an ocean?

Clock Struck Two:

“You realize the point of the war games is the competition, right?”

Jude shrugged and continued scribbling along furiously in her current journal. She scrawled letters to form morphemes to words as if her life depended on it, and if any of the possible futures she glimpsed were true, it was actually her memory that had the dependency.

“You realize you spent most of the war games tied up to the tallest tree in the wooded enclosure scribbling in your journal and eating... what was it in your bag, anyway?”

“Donuts,” Jude replied flatly, only to scrunch her nose when she realized she wasn’t correct. “Actually there were a few pastries? Something strawberry creme filled, but it was mostly sprinkle donuts, whiiiiiich when you think about it, could have skewed my data.”

“What data?” The administrator demanded with an exasperated sigh. “What science could you have possibly been doing after having spent days tied up to a branch in a tall tree gorging yourself on stolen donuts?”

“It was less a science. I haven’t even made a theory yet since I would need to run multiple tests, buuuuuut my hypothesis was that more and more of us rely on our powers rather than our common sense these days, so I wanted to see if I could prove or disprove what I thought.”

“And?”

Jude sighed and set her journal and pen down in her lap as she slouched down low in her chair.

“Well, considering how many days I just stayed up there without doing anything, I think my conclusion was obvious.”

Clock Struck Three:

Jude loved her parents, and she knew they loved her too, but she knew that they definitely did not understand her. At first she thought it had been an adoption things -- that she was the only child they had selected and had tried to groom into something perfect and worthy of carrying their name, only to get saddled with an over-excited genius of a girl who talked with her hands and scribbled her life in journals.

They had been so proud of the report cards and the ribbons she won in grade school science fairs. There were countless photographs of her toothy little grin beaming to the camera as she stood next to a project this or reward that or found herself photographed for the who’s who of american third graders. It was one thing when the intellect was cute, but it was another thing when the intellect was being tested and quantified in laboratories as a possible power, only to be revealed as something natural.

They loved her, but she was something they had never anticipated. The Breckenridge family never thought that the wide-eyed child they adopted as a baby would shatter IQ tests and be inducted into MENSA before entering middle school.

They didn’t expect to find her passed out on the floor, unconscious and unresponsive, nor did they understand what was going on when scans of her brain revealed high levels of activity despite the unconscious state.

Jude knew her parents didn’t understand when she woke up in the hospital and excitedly proclaimed that she had seen so much that had been. She knew that they didn’t understand all the ways that she became unraveled through the times she witnessed.

They were good parents, though, and they did what was best. They sent her to a school that would advance her mind and her powers and give her so many opportunities. They visited. They wrote. They called weekly and sent care packages full of her favorite things -- a new CD of whale songs, new pins for her jackets, and donuts made fresh from home.

They loved her, even if they didn’t understand her, but Jude always felt like she was something they were willing to lose or afraid to understand until her parents visited for a birthday and gifted her with a small blue box.

Jude tapped the top of the box and looked between her mother and father before slowly lifting the lid, and what she saw...

It was a pocket watch, but that was a disservice. The piece was a miniature of the great Astrological Clock in Prague. There were faces for the position of the sun, the moon, the zodiac, the day, and the time. Anyone staring down at the face of the clock and all the various hands would have been befuddled and confused and overwhelmed, but Jude understood even if she didn’t understand why.

“We’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while,” Her mother began, only to choke on her words.

“We don’t understand how your power works, but... we wanted to give you a reminder to come home and come back to us, just in case you needed it.”

Jude set the pocket watch down on the nearest table before enveloping her parents in the biggest bear hug she could muster.

From that day on, she was never seen without the watch on a gold chain around her neck.

Clock Strikes Four:

It was easy to get lost in time.

It was hard to explain how one got lost in time, especially when she didn’t actually travel anywhere. Jude had tried to explain that it was something like astral projection crossed with pre-cognition and post-cognition all rolled into one, but that was an approximation and didn’t explain how it actually felt o have your consciousness hurtled backwards and forwards chronologically.

As a child, she had viewed it as walking through a dense forest with trees filled with coo-coo clock doorways, complete with a cacophony of chimes in various caricatures, but that had been an easy way to get lost in time.

Her view now was like sinking into water deep and dark to the point that not even the hand in front of your face could be seen. If there was light, it was scattered like the light in the ocean. She didn’t navigate time streams through sight, but through sound.

The click of seconds. The shift of sands through a glass. The shanties of sailors as the ship cut through the waves, unaware that that the whales sang songs below.

There was communication in the sound, and it always lead Jude to when she needed to be.

Clock Strikes Five

She was running late, late, late. Jude didn’t need to look at her watch to know that she was not going to be on time. She had stayed up too late studying something or other fantastic, had fallen asleep with her head in her books, and woke up late. Jude had scrambled to change clothes, brush her teeth, and redo her frazzled braid. She raced out the door with her bag dragging behind her on the ground, her coat half hanging on her body, and a strudel near hanging from her lips and bolted towards her first class...

Only to slide to a stop complete with pinwheeling arms to steady her center of gravity when she saw someone walking a german shepherd... or perhaps it was a student walking another student who had shifted into a german shepherd, but Jude didn’t care.

A muffled squeal escaped her lips and she hopped excitedly from one foot to another and frantically tried to flag down the dog (or maybe not’s?) owner to see if maybe, maybe, maaaaaaaaaaybe she could pet it.

Five seconds later, Jude’s strudel was snatched up by a sneaky pup, but even that didn’t sour the joy she felt from scratch the dog behind its ears and calling it a good puppy, regardless of its age.

Class was forgotten too, but somehow she still made it precisely on time.

Clock Strikes Six:

Almost everyone knew to stand at least a pace away from Jude when she got excited about something... and Jude Breckenridge was often excited about something.

There was nothing inherently dangerous about the young woman. Her powers weren’t offensive, and while she wasn’t a slouch in the athletics department, it was easily clear that she was more of a great thinker than she ever would be a paragon of Olympian feats. Still, the girl with wide blue eyes could talk a mile a minute to the twelfth degree, and with that fast-talking zest for the best new favorite thing du jour was a problem...

Waving hands.

Jude was someone who would gesticulate wildly whenever she spoke. Her hands would wave, or she’d slam her palm down onto the surface of a table. The girl couldn’t dance to save her life, but you could bet that her signature move had something to do with noodly arms that made her look more like a car lot blow up mascot than a young woman.

Far too many people forgot about the arms and found themselves whacked as the resident Chronoskimming Paragon jumped to another great new hypothesis to test or an adventure to dive headlong into.

Clock Strikes Seven:

For most of her young life, Jude had been content to dodge the questions of attraction and love. She was too busy to be tied down when other girls her age had been all giggles and gossip and blushed hopes of slow-dancing in the arms of another in a dark gymnasium to some ballad that only seemed timeless until one realized that it simply repeated the same sentiment over and over and over.

Love was like a prism. At first Jude had seen that prism only as a narrowing of perception that she would not and could not fall into.

Time was on her side, to an extent, but she didn’t have time for that.

So she made friends. She had adventures. She helped other students study. She expanded her mind in all the ways she could and scribbled down each and every little thing into her notebooks, because one day all that would remain of her great thoughts would be ink-stained pages.

Love would only slow her down, she had decided, and if she was supposed to be feeling some sort of way about six-pack abs or the flash of a girl’s thighs from under a skirt that was just a smidgeon on the shorter side, well.. whatever that was passed her over.

Except it hadn’t. Jude was not exempt or immune to attraction -- it just hit her late, and it hit her hard, and she only realized it when one of the pins on her bag -- a black circular pin reading “Baby got BOOKS” -- snapped off and clattered to the ground in the library and rolled over to the next row of shelves.

The person who found it and offered it back to her was the most gorgeous boy she had ever seen. His hair was all dark curls to match his eyes and his lips -- oh god when had smirking ever been so... so.. appealing?!

He reached out and took her hand in his and ever-so-gently slid the broken pin into her hand. Jude realized he had said something but all she could think about was the warmth of his hand on hers, and the way his lips... did that thing and god did she just want to stand on her tippie toes or grab his shirt to pull him down so that she could... could...

“Th-thanks!” Jude squeaked before booking it out of the library and into the safety of the open air.

She had thought that would be that, but she was wrong. The next day there was a girl whose hair was so silky and glossy and with eyes so crystal blue, and next week there was a gender-fluid TA who just had the best laugh and habit of spinning pencils in their hands, and all Jude could think about was how nice it would be if those hands wound their way into her hair and... and...

She tried not to think about it, but trying not to think about it made the attractiveness of everyone else amplify, just as it made her throat close up and her voice go all reedy and wispy while her pulse jumped.

Jude realized she had been wrong. Love wasn’t a prism in the sense of narrowing. It was a prism in the sense of a spectrum, and God, was there a spectrum... even if the only thing refracted on to Jude’s face was a dusting of scarlet red.

Clock Struck Eight

It was supposed to be a low-key study session in the library. Jude sat at the head of the table with no less than three books in front of her and her journals stacked one on top of the other on top of the other with the latest held open in her lap. Her ink-stained fingers clutched a pen well on its way to being drained empty, and for a time there was nothing but the sound of a skritch skritch skritch of pen tip on paper until the room fell silent.

Jude’s friends looked up, expecting the worst, only to groan when they saw what the other girl was doing: weaving her fine, blonde hair into a braid without a care for the royal blue smudges being patted into the ends of her tresses.

“You know we’re in for it now, right?” one of her friends remarked just as Jude tied off her braid with an elastic band, slapped her journal shut and set it on the library table.

“Right!” the paragon remarked brightly. “I’m bored of relying on the words of old, dead, mostly-white men. I say we go on an adventure and find some discoveries of our own instead of learning what everyone else has learned. Anyone got any suggestions?”

Jude looked from face to face before remembering herself:

“And it absolutely cannot be something boring. We can go anywhere and do anything so long as it is amazing. I won’t settle for anything less.”

Clock Strikes Nine:

Jude taught herself to see the future as a rainstorm of possibilities -- it was simply impossible to count all of the raindrops and quantify them. It made it easier for her to think that maybe there was a future where she didn’t have to sacrifice possibility and had become a mad genius jack of all trades something-or-other cool and world-changing. It was easy to imagine that one of those possible futures had her saddled with a lifetime supply of donuts because she had found a chemical way to make them significantly less fattening and therefore easy for everyone to enjoy with a guilt-free conscience.

It was so easy to imagine that there was a future where she died happy and burned out of life instead of having her mind consume itself like a dark hole devouring a star.

Still, for all that she had seen and all that she had known, Jude knew that her path had to start with Excelsior...

So she hiked her bag over her shoulder, stepped into the building for her first class, and booked it to the appropriate room before lowering herself into a chair front-and-center to the professor. Her very first class started no less than fifteen minutes later.

It was the first and last time in Excelsior history that Jude Breckenridge was anything more or less than mysteriously on time.

Clock Struck Ten

It could have made for a serene picture: a girl in a pale blue summer dress with her hair pulled back into a blonde braid sprawled out on the green grass under the shade of a tree on a sunny, sunny day. Her fingers were clasped in the hands of one of her best friends, and anyone who passed by would have thought the pair engrossed with the shapes of the clouds on the sky.

A closer look would have revealed the young woman’s eyes -- normally so wide and expressive -- to be shut, as if she were sleeping or dreaming.

And that’s what Chronoskimming looked like -- a slumber not to be woken from. Jude projected her consciousness forward, forward, forward and winding through time while her body slumbered in the present.

She hurtled forward, but overshot her destination. Jude opened her eyes and looked down to find her wrinkled hands folded in her lap, her white braid spilling over her shoulder, and her body clothed from head to toe in black. She was seated in a wheelchair in what appeared to be a park, but there was nothing green save for the grass underfoot. Everything else was monochromatic -- grey skies, grey headstones, white lilies laid on the ground, and black attire flanked by black umbrellas to stave off the rain.

Jude felt the warmth of a tear slide down her cheek as she stared at the gravestone of one of her best friends, and then someone leaned down and whispered to her that it was time to go, and she was being rolled away from the service, and back onto the paved path leading from the cemetery.

She was hurtled backwards then. Jude came back to her body with a pained gasp which turned to ragged sobs when the weight of what she saw came back to her. Her friend turned to her then, and she was being gathered up and held in their arms. She grasped the fabric of their shirt and let herself sob for a few moments before the proximity became too much and good sense returned.

“It’s fine,” she murmured as she gently pushed her friend back and away and then wiped her tears from her eyes. “I went too far and saw too awful, but futures are like... like raindrops -- nearly impossible to count. It might not happen, so why cry about it? Sorry, I’m being silly--”

Jude pulled herself up to stand and brushed the grass from her clothes and tossed her braid over her shoulder. She rounded on her feet and smirked at her still-seated friend:

“Let’s go get donuts! Last one back to campus has to buy!”

CLOCK STRIKES ELEVEN:

Jude Breckenridge has filled many, many, many journals with scribbled writings. Some of her entries consist of scientific discoveries or theories or ideas, while other entries are more personal in nature. Jude has happily let her friends read her journals (provided they can actually read her messy doctor handwriting) but there are some entries that she refuses to acknowledge when questioned, much less explain. One such entry:

“November 1966 - Might need to befriend the mothman. Miiiiiiiiight.”

Clock Struck Twelve (Future)

There was always a constant, even in something as vast and wide as the future. Jude knew that she only saw what could be -- that there was a literal sea of prerequisites that needed to take place to ensure one future over another -- but when she skimmed to the future and saw one event take place over and over and over again, the wide ocean of possibility quickly shrank down to the size and depth of a puddle.

Nobody called her a genius in the future, at least not directly. They called the young woman in the past a genius, but the aged woman with a white braid and dulled out eyes sitting in a wheelchair? Nobody called her a genius, and how could they?

She couldn’t remember anything. Her mind was collapsing around itself and what was left wasn’t the girl genius or the woman who talked so excitedly with her hands or who had blushed just because someone had held her hand briefly while handing her a button.

She was always seated in a wheelchair because she had become -- would become -- too frail to stand on her own two feet after multiple mishaps and accidents. She couldn’t tell anyone what the day was or who was now president or when the last time she had eaten was.

Someone was kind enough to leave her a journal in case she had thoughts she wanted to write down, like in the old days, but the pages remained blank, save for one shakily written word:

Empty

She still liked to wear her hair in a braid, still enjoyed donuts with a childish fervor, and she collected pins and buttons or little knick knacks to hide into her pockets to hand out to the grandchildren when they came along.

Empty

She still wore a watch around her neck -- an heirloom that she had hoped to pass down along with her journals full of thoughts and breakthroughs and discoveries -- but the hands had long fallen still, and the soft tick had fallen to silence long ago.

Empty

Out of all the futures she had seen -- some where she had been a geneticist, others where she had studied the various profiles of powers, others where she had slipped under the waves of the ocean to study marine biology -- the slow breakdown to empty was the only constant.

It was inescapable, like the loom of twilight.

Jude knew it was coming, would come, had come.

So she took precautions against fading. She scribbled down her ideas as if her life depended on it. Perhaps she wasn’t focused yet, but she knew she was meant to change the world before fading out..., and to do that she would need to remember everything.

Even if remembering was hard. Even if remembering was painful... she would still try. 

[theburgermaster-a]

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

(So, since I’ve done this before for me and @valorandgold‘s Miles, this time I’m gonna do it for Canon Maya and @prosecutor-in-chief‘s Miles! We technically filled this out together lol.)

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Probably for the rest of their lives. Neither Miles nor Maya are the type to date frivolously. 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - It took a few weeks for them to start having feelings for each other. They were friends for a good while first, and then after Maya channeled Miles’ father for him, he asked her to dinner for the first time.

How was their first kiss? - Maya initiated their first kiss. Both were cautious, as they hadn’t been exclusive very long. It was enjoyable, though.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Miles did. He took Maya to New York for a week to celebrate her 30th birthday. After seeing a Broadway show and visiting a late night cafe, he proposes to her on their way back to the hotel. She said yes, of course.

Who is the best man/men? - In a traditional Japanese wedding, there is no best man.

Who is the bridesmaid(s)? - Same with bridesmaids, there are none. Only the family, the bride and groom, and the priest are involved in the processional.

Who did the most planning? - They both did an equal amount of planning, mostly regarding the guest list. Shinto weddings are pretty straightforward and very traditional.

Who stressed the most? - Neither of them did. Probably Maya a little bit, but more out of nerves than anything.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - They chose to have a very quiet, traditional ceremony. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to invite all of their friends, it just seemed more Miles and Maya to keep it traditional. They invited Larry, Gumshoe, Maggey, Franziska, Pearl, and Phoenix (in a world where he and Maya were never involved romantically). 

Sex:

Who is on top? - It depends on the mood. Sometimes, Maya likes to be coy and playful and will be on top, but other times it’s the other way around. It just...depends.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Again, it depends. Both of them will instigate things when the mood strikes. Miles is very smooth when he instigates, while Maya is very coy about it. She’ll wear something sexy or be very cuddly when she wants it.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Since they were both very inexperienced when they got together, it gets longer with the more experience they get. It also depends on what they have time for. If they have an evening to themselves, maybe a couple hours? It really depends.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Absolutely. They are very conscious of each other’s needs. They are also very sensitive and loving towards each other, even if Miles has a little trouble expressing it at first.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

(It depends on the mood, but anywhere between 4 and 6)

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - 

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

(In public they are much more subdued than they are in private. Maya is very cuddly and she likes holding Miles’ hand or his arm. At home, they’ll cuddle on the couch and stuff.)

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - They only planned to have one. Maya needed an heir, after all. Their first child is a girl named Madeline (Maya calls her Mads or Maddy), and their second is a boy named Malcolm Gregory.  How many children will they adopt? -  None. They considered adoption when they were struggling to have a baby in the first place, but then Maya got pregnant and they didn’t need to adopt anymore.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Maya does. She’s the one staying home with the kids most of the time. She didn’t want parenthood to affect Miles’ career. But when he gets home, she gets a break and he takes over.

Who is the stricter parent? - Definitely Miles. But he doesn’t overdo it. He’s not mean or anything. Someone has to be the strict parent and it’s totally not Maya. She’s too soft.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Both Maya and Miles do. They’re very protective of their children, but not overbearing.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - They trade off. Whoever is up first or done with their morning routine first. Once a week, Miles comes to the school and takes his kids out to lunch. It’s good for him to get out of the office, and the kids love to spend time with their dad. If Maya is in the city, she comes with them.

Who is the more loved parent? - Both kids love both of their parents, but Madeline prefers her dad and Malcolm prefers his mom. Maya is the more nurturing parent by nature. It’s just her personality. Not that Miles isn’t, he’s just not very emotive. But he makes sure that his kids know that he loves them.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings- Miles, probably. He lives and works in the city, so attending a PTA meeting would be easier for him.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Maya did. Her babies are all grown up!

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Ahahahahaha. Miles.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Miles and Maya like to cook together. Since they already have limited time together thanks to their jobs, making dinner together is a way for them to really catch up on the day and spend some time together.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither Miles nor Maya are very picky when it comes to their food. If you include the kids, it’s definitely Madeline. She is very picky, which is odd to Maya.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Again, Miles and Maya like to shop together. Grocery shopping is one of Maya’s favorite activities because it reminds her of a time when Mia was still alive. Miles has no opinion about grocery shopping, but he started planning his trips around Maya’s availability and they always go together now.

How often do they bake desserts? - Mostly for special occasions like birthdays and holidays. Maya likes baking, but she’s not great at it.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Maya is a meat eater, Miles is a salad eater. But both of them will eat both things. Again, not picky.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Maya, for sure. Miles got in a habit of cooking for himself, so he doesn’t go out very often. But they’ll go out for special occasions and stuff.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - The kids.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - It depends on the room and who made the mess. They share the responsibilities because it is not a woman’s job to clean the house, it is an ADULT’s job to clean the house. But the kids have to clean up their own rooms.

Who is really against chores? - Maya, but she does them anyway.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Before they have kids, cleaning up after Miso is a shared responsibility between the two of them. After the kids reach a certain age, cleaning up after Miso is their responsibility but Miles and Maya will still do it sometimes anyway.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Maya.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Miles has this way of lowkey stressing out about things like this. He’s not freaking out all over the place, but you can tell that he’s stressed. He just kinda mumbles to himself and makes a lot of lists.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Maya, and boy does she brag about it.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Maya. Miles is just more efficient when comes to this kind of thing, but sometimes they’ll take a while together. 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - If they had a dog, Miles would take it with him on his morning jog. But they don’t so this is irrelevant.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Not very often. Miles will change his table linens for the season. However; he went without celebrating Christmas for so long that he doesn’t really think about it anymore. After he and Maya get together, they pick out a Christmas tree for his house together and maybe hang a wreath on the door. Once the kids are born, all bets are off. Especially at Halloween.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Longevity, trust, honesty, understanding, perseverance, friendship. Basically, they will most likely be married until they die. That’s the kind of relationship they want.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Both Maya and Miles are early risers, it’s just their routines. But if they get the opportunity to sleep in, Maya would be the one to do it. She might try to keep Miles there with her.

Who plays the most pranks? - Again, neither. Although, Maya does like to play the occasional prank. Not that Miles likes it when she does.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #165

“if you’re in danger, i’m here to save ya.”

Do you own a water gun? No. What item most embarrasses you to purchase? I wouldn't really know, I haven't bought much for myself... but I suppose probably some kind of sex toy. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? Two meerkats grooming. It's on a huge thing of burlap. Are there any songs that remind you of your mother? "Wherever I May Roam" by Metallica, because she aaaalways says she wants the lyrics "my body lies, but still I roam" on her urn. I'm making goddamn sure that happens when she passes. Have you ever picked wild flowers? Yes. Have you ever walked through a forest? Yeah. Have you ever seen a mountain in person? Yes. Do you prefer jam or butter on your biscuits? Jam. Have you ever explored somewhere abandoned? Yes, but I wanna do it morrreee! Take my camera with me! This is exactly why I'm getting into exploration channels on YouTube, finding shit like this. I'm addicted to Sam & Colby because of this. Where is the last place you went to as a tourist? Chicago. What country do you most want to travel to? Germany. Do you have a garden? No. Have you ever kept a physical, hand-written journal? Yeah. Have you ever caught a butterfly in your hands? I know I've picked up injured ones as a kid, dunno about otherwise. Are there any interesting landmarks where you live? Not that I can think of. Which fairytale is your favorite? I'mma throw hands if you say Shrek isn't one. Which mythological deity or creature is your favorite? Dragons. Which type of muffin is your favorite? Chocolate chip. What is your favorite shade of blue? Pastel. Do you prefer iced tea or hot tea? Iced coffee or hot coffee? Hate both. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? Nooo, not a fan. Honestly, have you ever crashed a party before? No. Do you know how to do the moon walk? No. What is one of your favorite comedy movies? White Chicks. Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Yeah. Onion rings or french fries? The latter. I am /picky/ with onion rings, but usually don't like them. Has anybody ever told you that you talk too fast? I've been told so when I'm hyper. Who is the best cook that you know? I don't know. I guess Jason was? His initial career path was chef, and he was in fact great at it. What’s the largest amount that you can juggle at one time? I can't juggle. What was your favorite thing to go on at the playground as a kid? Swing. Do you know how much you weighed at birth? How much? 7-something pounds? When you do a puzzle do you find all the edges first? Do some people not??? (If you sleep with the tv on) what’s usually on tv when you wake up? N/A Who was the last person to ask you to hang out? Did you agree to hang out with them? Colleen, and no. Have you ever had to take a stool or urine test? Why did you have to do this? I've had way too many UTIs because I used to drink literally zero water, so. Before my surgery, they needed a sample too to ensure I wasn't pregnant. Is there a food that you eat basically every day? What food is that? No. Do you have Oovoo? No. Do you know anyone who has ever been in a movie? Who and what movie were they in? What was their part? No. Do you know anyone who has had salmonella? Did you ever have it yourself? What about e coli? No. When was the last time you brought a pet to the vet? What was wrong with it? Last winter when we had to put Cali down. A tumor on her spleen ruptured and filled her body with so much blood that she almost couldn't breathe as her lungs were running out of room to expand. She also had some kind of mass on her liver that was probably causing more issues. Name something that you used to do with your family that you no longer do with them or at all: Trick-or-treating. Who was the last member of your extended family to visit? Where were they visiting from? Grammy and her husband. They were heading back down to Florida. Have you bought any new clothes in the past week? Nope. At what age do you think you’ll be ready to have children? Never. If I wanted kids, mid-20s/late-20s, probably. How many children would you like? Once more, if, two, or even just one. I'd really want my child to have a sibling at least somewhat near in age, but I don't know if I could handle two. Is there anyone in your friendship group that your parents don’t like? Not anymore. Have your grandparents ever asked you about your love/sex life? No. Have you ever been diagnosed with anything unexpected, mental or physical illness? How did you finally find out? Hm... I think everything I've had was at least somewhat expected. Like, I knew something was wrong. The most surprising though was I suppose inactive MRSA after my surgery and the incision re-opened to heal on its own for seven damn months. ACTUALLY, vertigo was random as hell. I started experiencing it and went to the doc. Where do you like to sit when you’re on the computer? In bed. What is the biggest decision you’ve made in the past year? Return back to school. Would you rather hike through the desert, the prairies, the forest, or the tundra? The prairies. If you could reconnect with someone from your past, who would it be and why? Megan. We were absolute best friends, and hopefully she's grown up by now. What movie/show "emotionally scarred" you as a kid? Courage The Cowardly Dog. Watched it anyway lmao. What’s your favorite flavor of jello? Strawberry, probably. Have you ever been thrown out of the movies? No. What would you do if you found out you were moving to Tennessee? I wouldn't complain, Tennessee is beautiful. My brother lives there anyway, and I haven't seen him in years. What does your favorite hair tie/accessory look like? I don't wear any. Do you have a favorite kind of milk? 2%, whole, etc? 2%, maybe. Do you have a favorite drummer? No. Are there any symbols that have personal meaning to you? i.e: dice, a necklace, etc. What are they? Not off the top of my head. What’s the biggest spider you’ve come across? Writing spiders. Have you ever been bitten by anything venomous? No. Do you know anyone who has been knighted? No. Which Mario game would you say is your favorite? That is, if you even like Mario? I've only really played Mario Kart. The others don't interest me. Do you have a deviantART account? Yes. Have you ever had acne? If not, you’re so lucky. I did through puberty, of course. Mine was rough then. It stopped when I was about 19. Now I just have the occasional blemish or two when I'm on my period. Ever walked into a facility of the opposite gender - like restrooms? I did once in elementary school on a work day (teachers come to get shit done; Mom was an assistant teacher) with my friends lol. Ever lost your car in the parking lot? If so, did you use your car alarm to find it again? Don't have my own car. I don't even know if Mom's ever had a car with an alarm. Has there ever been a Christmas where you had to do without gifts-wise? No. Do you type with capital letters and proper punctuation? So this is super weird: It's actually whatever I find aesthetically pleasing wherever it's being written, as well as what "voice" sounds more appropriate??? But I usually write properly. Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? Hypothetically once again, I know I would be. The world's evil. What was the last kind of chips you ate? Hot fries. What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Economics so I could actually know how the fuck to handle money. What brings out the worst in you? Treating me like a child that knows nothing. How many friends do you have that don’t smoke? Idk. There's only one friend I see even rarely, and he doesn't though. Doesn’t it drive you nuts when people think they ‘need’ to have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Yes. You need to learn that you're not an unfinished puzzle. You're complete on your own. Some people were really destructive as a child, were you? No. On average, how many songs do you listen to in a day? This greatly varies. Do you ever buy your pet(s) birthday or Christmas presents? Always. Do you think your current relationship will last forever? No exaggeration, no over-optimistic thinking, yes. One thing you promised yourself you’d never do and then did? Attempt suicide. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Have you ever rolled off your bed in your sleep? No. Who is the most overrated singer? Uhhh. I dunno. Maybe Ed Sheeran. What is your greatest weakness? I guess how insecure I am. Do you have any pets that you had since you were born? No. Favorite undersea creature? Seahorses. Favorite type of chocolate? Milk. What toys did you play with as a child? Plastic animals, Pokemon figures, Barbies or Bratz if Nicole wanted to, stuffed animals... What types of music do you listen to? Loads of different kinds of metal. I'm finding I'm really getting into indie as well. What, without fail, makes you cry? Mark crying for any reason be it sadness or joy I am pathetic. What makes a movie really enjoyable for you? Well thought-out, interesting plots and charismatic characters. Name a game you are really good at. Shadow of the Colossus. The most childish part of your personality? I can occasionally be a bit of a brat if something I'm serious about doesn't go my way oops. What did you last put on a piece of toast? Butter, cinnamon, and sugar. Have you ever witnessed a serious physical fight? No. Do you enjoy corn on the cob? YES, though my lip ring makes it a pain. Have you ever bought alcohol or cigarettes for someone underage? No. If you use Snapchat, have you ever had a screenshot taken of you? N/A When in a waiting room, how do you pass the time? Mess around on my phone. Usually wander through Pinterest. What was the last brutally honest comment you made about someone? I'm not sure. What is your favorite thing to do with just one friend? Go out to eat and talk. Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe? By who? Jason may have, but I don't remember. Are you prone to paranoia? YUP. Has anyone ever bought you a ring? Mom and Jason. Accidentally dropped the one Mom gave me down the drain semi-recently, then Jason's broke within a few weeks. Kept the jewel for a while but eventually threw it out. What was the most stressful project you had so far while in school? Jesus, when I was still in a game design class and we had to read the most fucking boring book and then do some analysis shit of it. Who in your family are you closest to? Mom. In your opinion, what is the scariest natural disaster? Earthquakes, maybe. Or tornadoes. What time of the day is the best for you? I'm usually in my best mood in the morning. Do you have an electric toothbrush? No. Have you ever had to board up your windows because of a hurricane? No. What do you think about employers checking on personal sites before hiring employees? Sometimes I actually think it's a good idea, other times no??? Like you can get important details of someone by looking at what they post, but at the same time, social media doesn't always portray someone that well. You can get the wrong idea. Have you ever visited anyone in a rehab? No. Ice in your drink: yes or no? No. Do you prefer getting money, gift cards, or an actual gift on your birthday? Money. When was the last time you got a new bed? Is your bed comfy? Long time ago, and I guess. What was the last job you applied for? Ummm I'm not sure. Oh, I think for newborn photography. Do you have any mild food allergies? No. Who was the last person you were with that smelled REALLY good? My younger sis. Last person to make you seriously mad? Colleen. How is your mom? Stressed, always. Do you like going through old photos and recalling memories? Depends on the picture. And time. What movie coming out are you most excited to see? Why? The live-action The Lion King because it's my favorite movie. What song really gets to your heart and inspires you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy. Do you see a lot of stray animals around your home? No. Do you have fireflies around where you live, or do you wish you did? In the area, yes, but we don't really see them in my yard much. Did you used to do Easter egg hunts when you were a child? Yes. Have you ever bought anybody a mug? Omg, I found one that said, "Be nice, I'm in control of your happy pills" in this random store once and I HAD to get it for my psychiatrist. He's not supposed to accept presents, so we just pretended it was from mom lol. He has it on his desk. Do you believe in divorce? In cases such as abuse, infidelity, or other pretty serious issues, yes, but I usually don't advise divorce. Communicate like mature adults and fix what you got married for. Who taught you the most valuable lesson in life and what was that lesson? "Deal with the past or the past deals with you," maybe. My Holly Hill teacher taught me a million lessons that greatly affected my outlook on many components to a healthy life. Have you ever fallen into a hole or crevice whilst hiking? While getting to fishing spots with Dad, my foot may have slipped through rocks or something. Have you ever had a serious conversation with your dad? One that I remember. He took me out to lunch one day when I was still struggling with Jason to just talk to me about relationship stuff. I cherish that memory dearly. In YOUR eyes, which of the three is the most dangerous, and which is the least: Marijuana, Alcohol, Cigarettes? Alcohol, then I'm not sure. Marijuana has a lot of dangers people like to ignore, but then again, it has some health benefits while cigs have none. What is the nerdiest thing that you own? Probably the big Illidan poster I have beside my bed lul. What is the preppiest thing that you own? *shrug* If you are popular, have you ever wondered what it would be like to have no friends? What do you think it might be like? I already just about have none, and it's lonely as fuck. If you are a loner, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be popular? What do you think it might be like? No. I don't seek popularity, just not such a lack of company. Every tattoo has a story behind it; if you have any, what are the stories behind yours? My semicolon butterfly is tribute to both the butterfly and semicolon projects. "Ohana" is obvious. "How rare and beautiful it is to even exists" just speaks deeply to me as someone who wanted to die for years. "Perfectly flawed" also means a lot to me and comes from an Otep song of the same name. "You're awful... I love you!" written in Sara's handwriting I adore because we pretty much call each other evil all the damn time all the while loving each other. :') Who do you know that has a particularly funny or annoying laugh? HA ME I HATE IT. Is there anything you do that is annoying to your friends or family? Oh, I'm sure. I'm told all the time by people to make myself at home when I'm at someone else's house standing like a statue, for one. I do this sooo much, even a bit at my sister's house when it comes to wanting a drink or something. My pacing makes people anxious, I'm told constantly. Sure there's more. What is the most number of sodas that you have drank in one day? I. DON'T WANT. TO KNOW. Until two-three months ago, I lived mostly off soda, and I do NOT know how I didn't gain weight from it. Now I absolutely refuse to go past two, but usually only get one. The idea of drinking as much as I did almost makes me nauseous. Have you ever gone through a period of mass weight-gain/weight-loss? What was that time like for you? Well first Paxil made me gain weight, but I quit it and did WiiFit all summer and lost 40 pounds. I was so proud of myself. Then, I was put on Abilify when I had no need to be, and let's not say how much it made me gain because my then-doctor was a fucking idiot that thought I was doing something terribly wrong and kept me on it, not knowing the side effects. :^) My current psychiatrist was lost entirely as to why I'd been prescribed it, and he immediately connected my weight gain to it because it *murders* metabolism. Was taken off it immediately, boom, started to melt weight with no change to my diet for quite a while. I'm still far from my normal weight. I could write a novel on how this was/is for me, but I'll just say I'm bitter as fuck and ~so~ confident in my shit body. (: If you have one, do you and your significant other have a similar taste in music? Yes. Longest plane ride you’ve ever been on? I'm sure to Michigan, but I don't remember how long it was. I was a kid. Favorite kind of bean? I absolutely loathe beans. I can't even swallow them. If you had to move to another country, where would you move? Canada, realistically. I'd love to live in Germany, but that would be much different from where I am now and would require learning an entire new language. I like Canada anyway. Does it bother you when people call you ‘ma'am’ or 'sir?’ No, it's polite...? Did you partake in senior skip days? Yup. Would you ever consider having an abortion? If my life was endangered, yes, and if - God forbid - I was raped, I possibly would because of how scarring that would be. I've said before I think pregnancy would legitimately be traumatic to me, and if it was because of that, I couldn't even begin to imagine. Have you ever lived in an apartment before? I've told the Jason & co. story before. I also stayed with Colleen for at least a month when I was technically homeless, and she was in an apartment then. Have you ever been questioned by the police? No. Have you ever been to an amusement park out of state? Yeah. Have you ever been responsible for someone’s death? Yeesh, no. Do you know a lot about serial killers? No. Have the police ever been looking for you? HAHAHAHA YES. When I went to the beach one time, my sister, a friend, and I went walking along the shore one night and apparently Mom didn't hear us mention it. Freaked the fuck out and called them to find us. Sorry, Mom. Where do you get most of your accessories from? *shrugs* Maybe HotTopic? Do you know how to shoot a gun and hit a target? No. Are you a good listener? It's complicated. I try very hard to be, but even with people I seriously care about, my mind can wander. But I really try. What was the last bad thing to happen to you? Serious, continuous loneliness. The last good thing to happen to you? I guess finding out I don't have hypoglycemia. Do you think today’s youth is being corrupted/messed up because of TV? It depends on what they watch. Some things they of course shouldn't see, but people tend to take it too far. Have your parents supported every decision you’ve made? I'm sure they haven't. Do you like to listen to rock music/screamo music when you’re angry/upset? Lol did you really just group rock and screamo up???? I'm pretty much always listening to metal or rock. I don't like purely screamo. Are you embarrassed to tell your parents you love them around your friends? Not at all. It bothers me immensely when it does bother people. What’s your favorite sappy/romantic song? Shit, I dunno. I'm a sucker for a lot. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Not legally, to my knowledge. Which one of your senses would you be the most devastated to lose? Sight. Hearing almost ties it. Have you ever dated someone who posted a ton of selfies on social media? No, but why does that matter??? Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? I don't think so. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? They're divorced. Mom fucking hates Dad, while he's totally over it. When was the last time you attended a religious service of any sort? Well over a year ago. Do you ever feel like you're sharing too much about yourself online? Eh, nah. Are you on good or bad terms with your most recent ex? Good. What was the last necklace you wore? A spiked choker. Have you ever read any of Charles Darwin's works? No. If there was such a thing as a mental health first aid kit, what would you want to be in it? Oh boy. I'd say it'd be personal to each person. Do you think there are more dimensions than what we're able to perceive? Maybe. What was the last carbonated drink you had? I think Mtn. Dew. Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? Yes, my half-sister. What light in your house was the last to have a bulb burn out? Living room. Have you ever been fired? If so, did you get unemployment benefits? No. Never really worked long enough to be. Do any of your neighbors have loud children? No. Have you ever been in an abandoned house? No, we were too scared to go past the doorway lol. What's your favorite YouTube channel? UM Markiplier????????????????????? Do you go to church? No. If so, what denomination is it?  N/A What is your favorite thing to make wishes on? Just birthday candles. Don't believe that does anything, but. C'mon, you gotta. What is your favorite phase of the moon? Full, duh!! What is your favorite way to get high, if applicable? N/A Which name do you like best: Cora, Flora, Dora, or Laura? Laura. If applicable, what is your favorite version of the Bible to read? N/A Are you contemplating/debating something right now? No. Have you ever had a book completely come unbound from its cover? Childhood books, probs. What design is on your shower curtain? Blue and white waves, I think?? I clearly pay attention to something I see every day. What’s the highest you can count in a different language? To like a million in German. Where would you like to be buried? Cremate me, please. Have you ever seen a ghost orb picture? Quiiite a lot in our old house. Do you think abortion should be illegal? No. Do you know how to double-dutch? I did as a kid. I couldn't jump into it, though.

[itsnotpatsy]

i think you answered it in a meme recently, but talk about trish and daphne's relationship. how did they get together / what drew trish to daphne / how long they think it will last, etc. idk just soft things, write some headcanons you have about them maybe

So I’m gonna go off of V: CRIMINALLYFAMOUS: LA VIE EN ROSE that I have with @criminallyfamous (holy shit asks let me tag people now thank god) which happens wherein Trish meets Daphne during her stint making the music video with Max for her record label who is— abusive and creepy toward her and has been trying to groom her into loving him she was 15 I mean. It’s no coincidence that in canon the video’s produced by the same dude who ruined her life when she was a kid. So Daphne ends up falling for her because in between being a really fucked up mess she finds out she’s incredibly good hearted and surprise, you know what Daph’s Achilles heel is? Good hearted, interesting people who intrigue her. When she freaks out Trish might be in really serious danger, she convinces Debbie, Tammy and Lou (which they’ve been planning the whole time) they need to expedite Trish out of the country. Which in phase 1 means she’s a missing person. Living with them in a spacious apartment in France, she detoxes, slowly improves (not without stumbling), works with Daphne on the movie she’s directing, and learns to find herself under a pseudonym. Phase 2 means she blackmails Max by making it seem as though she was kidnapped and kept hostage at his manse in Monaco. Phase 3 means she gets back to the states, publicly gets with Daphne, and they get to move in together and be an actual thing finally while Trish testifies enough to have Max incarcerated for everything he’s done, to her and whoever else was victimized by him. By the time he’s incarcerated, Trish’s mother is by way of heavy implication and fraud (after Debbie, spiteful and protective, manages to offer Dorothy several millions for knowledge on Trish under the guise of writing a book and all the funds so happen to be extremely illegal, false, and involved in a larger illegal operation she dug up), it’s been hovering around three years Daph’s been with Trish. So after Daph proposes to her, they get to learn how to be real people living in society. Well, trish, now around twenty-three years old, gets to.

So what drew Daphne to Trish was that, in spite of how very, very off balance she was, how much she was suffering, there was maybe the last innocent, kind person she knew of in there. When Daphne suggests she quit the video with what’s going on, Trish says she can’t, more than three hundred jobs depend on her finishing this. And that’s the first nail in the coffin. Daphne’s absolute first sort of fascination is with the fact that someone so hurt, someone hurting so badly, can still self-sacrifice in a way so dogged when she could just up and leave. As for Trish’s draw to Daphne, it begins in a way surprisingly basic: Trish has been a fan of her movies since she was younger. Princess Diaries was significantly escapist for her, as a dream she’d had since she was small— that her father, kicked out and faded into obscurity by her mother, might show up, some kind of prince, and she’d be a princess, and he’d take her and off they’d go. Not aligned, but still. She’s admired her throughout her career and Daphne’s the one person who’s ever treated her like a person— the first to make her understand she shouldn’t do anything she doesn’t want to.

Interestingly, Daph, right up to the point they let go of Trish to lie to the authorities about Max in a grand circus, thinks there’s a timer on their relationship. Right up until Trish, who has been positive this is the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with, gives Daph a pink diamond bracelet and asks if she still wants them to be together back in New York. Daphne enthusiastically says of course, more than convinced now there’s a permanence to this. The fact is, to Trish the click was immediate, easy. From moment one she knew. Daph’s reservations laid in her own insecurity, but Trish hasn’t yet been through the ringer that makes her doubt herself completely.

And while we’re here, headcanons:

• Trish plans to get back into acting eventually though it’s very difficult for her. Daph’s been extremely supportive, because frankly she thinks Trish is a well of natural talent. Which she is. • Trish auditions for a movie Daph thinks sounds incredible entitled ‘Rachel Getting Married’ that would be great for her. The content proves too much for her to handle without risking a relapse, a breakdown, or both. • Daphne, instead, auditions and gets it. Trish coaches her on it, since it’s entirely about addiction and recovery. • Daph wins an Oscar for it. No wife’s ever been as proud as Trish. • Daph likes buying Trish expensive scarves so that she can pull her in by them to kiss her. • Trish has and is always wearing a coat but she’s more often than not shoved into Daphne’s because in spite of being 5’11” while Daph’s quite a little bit shorter, Trish still think she’s small. • Trish cuts off and dyes all her hair honey blonde twice. When she’s done going through withdrawals and when she gets back to the US and spends her first night officially living in Daphne’s apartment. She can try to tuck hair that isn’t there behind her ears constantly now, still very much a habit. • She wore but wasn’t big on contacts. Eventually encouraged to be herself, fake Parisian Trish learned she could wear her glasses and not worry about her mother’s insistence it ruined her image. • Trish refuses to ever let her hair get long again. She finds she’s much more comfortable with it short, though she might let it get to her shoulders, one day, maybe. • Daph and Trish have dinner every Sunday with Deb, Tammy, and Lou, who they see spontaneously throughout the week anyway. They argue over ordering takeout until Tammy cooks during the takeout argument and then they can’t order takeout. • Debbie still orders takeout. • Once a week, Daph and Trish pick up Tammy’s daughter from school because she believes Daphne is a real life princess. She’s still forgiving Trish for cutting her ‘princess hair.’ • Daphne basically has a running calendar of all Trish’s doctor’s appointments from chiropractors to acupuncturists to therapists because she’s going to fucking take care of herself if it kills her, and Trish’s record of abuse damage leaves her with enough chronic pain and a reckless disregard for her health. • Daphne likes to take Trish’s glasses off to kiss her or push her up into her hair. It’s all very light. She knows how badly Trish needs light. Deserves light. • She’s going to spend the rest of her life with an enormously tall, angry, hipster-looking asshole with a heart of gold. • Trish gets her GED after a considerable amount of time and then finally attends college. She teeters constantly on a liberal arts major, for the flexibility, but goes for women’s and gender studies. • Daphne directs Trish in the first film she chooses to do out of ‘acting retirement’. It’s extremely lax and meant to be a place she can stretch her legs again, but Trish quickly proves Daphne was right: her natural talent is absolutely incredible and her instincts are on point. • Debbie gives Trish a middle name: it’s Vivienne, which is her mother’s (presumed) name, because she wants Trish to feel like she’s part of the family. Trish cries. • Trish is going to spend the rest of her life with the woman who got her out of the worst thing she’s ever been through, who she thinks is the most talented, loving person alive. • Trish takes Daphne’s last name. She doesn’t want her own, not here. • Which doesn’t matter because Daphne’s inevitably going to be given Debbie’s because That’s Her Mom. • oh wow this got away from me

[smokeybrand]

The Fallacy of Education

I think elementary school is necessary to an extent but everything I've ever learned after probably the third grade, was during summer break at the library and then all of the time when my family got a computer. I never really learned anything “new” in a classroom setting, from probably the fourth grade and forward. Sure, it's dope to have someone bounce ideas off but you can do that with anyone. You can do that online. Hell, I DO that online now. SO what the f*ck is the merit of going through the tribulations of “school?” Capitalism. Capitalism is the “merit.” School is designed to break your spirit as a youth and train you to be a drone in the workforce. The structure of how education here in the US has been built, is designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week early on. It's built to make you yearn for holidays and the weekends. It grooms you to raise your hands to ask questions and punishes those who deviate from the assigned tasks. Free thinkers are shunned and the arts are almost always removed in one form or another. Creativity is killed in service to conformity because capitalism needs that in order to function. The second it's removed, the second people questions the status quo, is the second they understand the terrible conditions in which they've been forced to exist. But, if you're not smart enough to ask the right questions, then there is no threat to the current class system.

When i got to fifth grade, i went to a substantially sh*ttier school than before. We move into a worse ghetto than the one I grew up in for he majority of my life and that was reflected in this school's curriculum. These kids were morons. That wasn't there fault, the system had failed them because it was assumed they weren't worth the investment. We'd all end up being thugs and criminals because that was what our zip code dictated. When I got there, I kind of f*cked all of that up. These kids were reading well under their grade, the “smart” one rad at a high school level if I remember but i could read at a college level. Indeed, I was well into checking out Shakespeare and Dante by this point. That was too much for my teacher. He graded on a curve because the kids were so stupid and, after that fist test where everyone failed but me because I got such a high mark, told me flat out that there was nothing he could teach me. I became kind of a TA in that class and never turned in another assignment for the entire year. He just gave me As on everything and apologized profusely for not being able to adequately challenge me. It was difficult to see because I would tell this dude loved teaching and he had an opportunity to rally flex his passion with me but the system in which he had to work wouldn't allow him to do any of that. Because the system, itself, isn't built to educate. Imagine being an educator trapped in that cage? Now imagine being a student trapped in there, too, oblivious to the handicap you've just been saddled with.

When i got to the seventh grade, i was put into remedial courses against my ill. We moved back to my old neighborhood ahead of my sixth grade year so I was able to return to my previous school where it was understood that myself and a handful of others were WAY too smart for our own good. They got us more advanced materials from the surrounding high schools and basically told us to teach ourselves. My then principal drove us over to a separate middle school because it was supposed to have better materials and more advanced courses than the neighborhood one. Our principal and the one in the middle school spoke, we all demonstrated our intelligence, and it was agreed we'd be placed in advanced courses in the coming year. When the new year started, I was not placed in those agreed upon courses. My zip code reflected the ghetto and not the bourgeois neighborhood this new school was in. They assumed i was an idiot, even though i was enrolled specifically for the more challenging curriculum, and dismissed my previous academic accomplishments without a word. My elementary school principal literally drove me over there and introduced me to that school's principal because she wanted to make sure the staff understood that i was wildly intelligent "for my age." Didn't matter. They saw a Meadowview zip and i was put into classes with a bunch of idiots. When i protested, they refused to change my schedule. It didn't take long for most of my teachers to realize I wouldn't be in such pedestrian classes but the administration refused to budge. I was ghetto trash and they didn't want to hear anything else, even if it was coming directly from the teachers in charge of me education. My science teacher literally had us coloring f*cking pictures as work assignments. I refused to do such ridiculous busy work, demanded that he teach me some sh*t and, instead, he suspended me from his class and threatened to fail me.

When i got to high school, i was wildly disillusioned by education and basically coasted my way through. I understood that i could learn more on my own and pushed to be home schooled. The way the that system works is you show up for in-class check-in on Monday and pick up a packet of schoolwork. You complete the school work through the week and turn it the following Monday. No classroom. No teachers. No fuss. All of my credits, and then some, and none of the the everyday baggage. I could excel at my own pace, which we have established far outstripped whatever the f*ck the curriculum is at any given time. Plus, I could return to proper coursework at any time. My plan was to knock out about three years worth of credits that first year and try to get into the off-campus internship with the State. It was called the Regional Occupation Program. I'd be paid to work for the State part time while accumulating proper work experience, and still have time to take some college courses at the local Community College. I'd still be able to come back and participate in all of the social sh*t like dances and games plus, I'd be able to walk the stage with my proper class. I'd be able to challenge myself, build toward my future, and still have that high school experience. But my mom refused. Everything i said here, I said to her, and she still refused. She's a slave to tradition and tradition dictated that i HAD to go to class everyday. The system HAD to be maintained. So i did and, as the years progressed, i went less and less. By senior year, i went just enough to keep the cops of her back and still graduated with a 3.8. I never one applied myself in high school and literally just showed up because cops, gym, and girls. Most days, i left early because f*cking why not? I wasn't learning anything. I wasn't being enriched in anyway. By my senior year, I had two Teacher's Assistant classes, two gym classes, Government and a creative writing course. I never went to that one because it was the last class of the day and Transformers came on halfway through it so I skipped it everyday. In order to pass, I just printed out a novel I wrote when I was in the eighth grade. He gave me an A, even though I was only there in person around thirty percent of the school year. I was writing high school level sh*t when I was thirteen. That's the story of my whole life and it didn't get any better when I got to college.

I thought it was going to get better when i got to college. It did not. I had toured a few campuses around my neighborhood and even sat in on a course or two. I went to a few College Fairs and even got accepted into a couple of HBCs. After a I graduated high school I opted to go to a community college that was near by. I' m poor so I couldn't afford a proper school and the scholarships available to me were all partial. I didn't want to have to split time between working and college so I figured if I got the core courses out of the way early, I could lighten the load and have an Associates to take into a part time gig or something later. I had actually gotten into Stanford and wanted to go but the cost of living was WAY too staunchy so this Community college plan was the best option. I lasted a semester. That sh*t was like going back to high school but i had to pay for it out of pocket. I had dreams of debate and lecture, of challenging a professor who could challenge me in return What I got was more of the uniform apathy that has dogged me my entire education career, only now it was driving me into f*cking debt. I love learning. I love reading. I love thinking. None of that I was even conducive to school here in the states. Often times, it was objectively frowned upon. From kindergarten to literally college, I was always under the gun in that sense. To this day, my curiosity is insatiable and I research everything. I want to know all of the things and the big sh*t like theoretical physics or the math necessary to infer the universe before the big bang, is absolutely tantalizing to me. I was frustrated with the stifling rigidity of school f*cking twenty years ago. I can't even imagine what it's like for kids nowadays.

The education system in the US is f*cking ridiculous. It's not meant to build intelligence or free thinking, it's an assembly line method designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week. It's supposed to get you used to sacrificing the majority of your life in service to capitalism, busting ass just to get to the weekend or next holiday off, because that's how you'll live the rest of your adult life. They're not in the business of education or teaching life skills, they're in the business of manufacturing more cogs for the great machine that is the “economy.” Why the f*ck do I need to know Algebra 2 when I can't do my own taxes? Why the f*ck do we have to spend three weeks studying the Crucible when I don't know how compound interests works? Parents should play a part in this, for sure, but how difficult is that for them to do? They are victims of the same system and have to sacrifice their liberty in order to pay bills, after being bludgeoned with that same aggressive system necessary for them to abandon their hopes. A smart person is a difficult person to manipulate. When people understand, or even have the ability to comprehend, the scales fall from their eyes. We're seeing that now with the “Employment crisis” and how no one wants to go back to being underpaid and overworked after a the Pandemic showed the world for what it was. It's in capitalism's best interests to make sure the masses are smart enough to produce but dumb enough to never understand that they control the means of production. Why do you think everyone wants the kids to "get back into the classroom" when it's obviously easier to "teach" kids over zoom? When it's obvious that they learn more and understand better at home? When entire grade averages have increased considerably, over the entire country, since kids have been studying at home? Because that structure is more important than the learning. Every kid has a phone, computer, or tablet at this point. Internet is everywhere. There's no reason to have in-class learning, especially considering how many f*cking classrooms get shot up around these parts. Especially considering that there are more kids like me thanks to the ready-to-consume inf oration at our fingertips. This one got away from me but i really, really, hate the "education system" here. It's so boorish and archaic, f*cking obsolete, especially in the age of the information, so why go back to that broken system? Because capitalism needs drones not dreamers. It needs conformists, not thinkers. It needs ignorance not education.

[aion-rsa]

The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness Review – Exhaustive Look Is Long Overdue

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Netflix‘s new docuseries The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness aims to restructure a deeply ingrained story. New York City’s most notorious serial murderer wasn’t a serial murderer after all. If David Berkowitz was part of a team of street level satanic power brokers, the entire story is a false narrative.

The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness is an impressive entry in the true crime documentary premiere run at Netflix. It focuses on the work of journalist Maury Terry, whose investigation into the Son of Sam case was criminally sidelined. Terry was convinced that convicted lone serial killer David Berkowitz was part of “a highly motivated and well-organized cult group whose various criminal enterprises included the .44 homicide.”

Terry’s 1987 book The Ultimate Evil: An Investigation of America’s Most Dangerous Satanic Cult, is a must read. But it got lost in the Satanic Panic, and Terry got sucked up into the world of the tabloid press. If Geraldo Rivera couldn’t survive The Geraldo Show with his journalistic reputation intact, how could Maury Terry? A wall of authority was built by a seeming Satanic cabal to shut out any idea the infamous murders could have been by anyone but a singular “Son of Sam.”

The “Son of Sam” spree captivated the world in the late 1970s. The chase for the killer was legendary, it made household names of investigators and district attorneys, careers and reputations were assured by it. All of New York City clung to its every detail. Berkowitz pled guilty to eight shootings in 1977, and the case was closed. Nobody else was charged with any crimes related to the shootings. The arrest and conviction of Berkowitz made people believe they were safe to go back out on the streets.

The documentary does a fantastic job showing how the police, press and the public all came together to create the lone gunman mythology. Berkowitz christened himself “The Son of Sam” in a letter designed to taunt police, and the documentary makes it seem like they never forgave him for it. He wrote to Jimmy Breslin, the recognizable “face” of The New York Daily News, name-dropping Beelzebub before promising to return. “Yours in murder, Mr. Monster,” he signed the letters, but the demonic names meant nothing more than lurid prose to the police.

The press fed the beast. The documentary vividly captures the mania which fell on New York City, as women cut or tied up their hair, because the roving gunman was targeting long-haired women, and stayed home anyway. Discos emptied. Neighbors followed neighbors. The documentary mirrors the rabid and rising hunt for the killer with Terry’s increasing obsession. The cops closed out the Summer of Sam by accident. A lucky coincidence linked a witness with a ticketed car. Berkowitz was arrested in front of his apartment complex on August 10, 1977.  

Filmmaker Joshua Zeman (Murder Mountain) expertly incorporates archival news footage, and damning snippets of conversations. Terry’s own words and case files are thoughtfully read by Paul Giamatti. The director had already found a Son of Sam connection with his 2009 documentary Cropsey, about missing kids on Staten Island, and had contact with the author during research. The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness opens with the director receiving boxes of files, including interviews, and correspondences with Berkowitz from Terry’s personal investigation. Among them is a letter the journalist received from the convicted killer in 1981, postmarked Attica Correctional Facility. “I am guilty of these crimes,” Berkowitz wrote, “But I didn’t do it all.”

The documentary shows how, while some authorities hinted claims about ritual murders might be credible, a thin blue line forms behind the “my dog told me to do it” story to stifle the fear, rushing the case to a close. New York Mayor Abraham Beame was up for reelection and the story was fast-tracked, almost in advance. This speedy wrap-up never fooled Neysa and Jerry Moskowitz, the parents of the victim Stacy. Queens District Attorney John Santucci, whose jurisdiction included five of the Son of Sam attacks, was mocked by cops like Joe Coffey for even reading Terry’s book. Carl Denaro, a surviving victim, was so enraged he joined Terry’s investigative team. Though he would later have to remind the journalist he got shot in the head for the case.

Maury Terry is more relatable than the documentary seems to realize. Friends and colleagues bring up how he goes from a drinking buddy to a drinking baddie, but every personal revelation ultimately gets tied to his descent into obsession. Terry really is the ultimate representation of a New Yorker who lived through the Summer of Sam. He has good instincts, but he’s stuck at the wrong job. Who wants to write about the newest laser printer when his gut tells him there’s more to another story in his own neighborhood?

The press claimed Berkowitz got the name “Son of Sam” because he was acting on orders of his neighbor’s dog. He reportedly believed the dog was possessed by the soul of a 6,000-year-old man named Sam. In 1979, The New York Times reported Berkowitz made it up, but Terry, breaks the code which led to the codified .44 caliber myth. There is a real Sam, he’s got real kids, they got real problems and he’s along for the ride. Sam Carr and his sons lived in the house behind Berkowitz. The Carr family owned the Labrador retriever Berkowitz hailed as the high demon.

The high point of the series is the interview at the Sullivan Correctional Facility recorded for Inside Edition. The co-producer of the installment, Wayne Darwen, succinctly sums up the emotion by describing the meeting as Sherlock Holmes meeting Moriarty and Ahab harpooning the great whale. Berkowitz says it doesn’t matter how involved he was in the crimes, he should be imprisoned for the rest of his life just for being there.

The documentary excerpts Berkowitz’s story. He joined the cult in 1975, after meeting Michael Carr at a party on Barnes Avenue in the Bronx. Berkowitz says he “was intrigued by the occult,” which was presented in a harmless way, “just witchcraft and seances. I never dreamed I’d eventually become a murderer.” Berkowitz describes late-night meetings in the woods of Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx, and Untermyer Park in his own backyard, which was Pine Street in Yonkers. This inspires the name of Terry’s investigative team, The Pine Street Irregulars. Another tip of the hat to Sherlock Holmes. The description matched the “Twenty-Two Disciples of Hell” taunts in letters to Jimmy Breslin.

The convicted killer also describes his initiation at Untermyer Park. “I recited a prayer to Lucifer and then pricked my finger to draw a little blood. I also gave information about my family.” He names John “Wheaties” Carr. This points back to the letters “Son of Sam” wrote to Breslin.

Berkowitz admits he was present at each of the eight murder scenes. But wasn’t the triggerman at all of them. In the book, Ultimate Evil, Berkowitz says one of three women in the group shot Carl Denaro. Berkowitz also said “a Yonkers police officer who belonged to the group.” On camera for Inside Edition, he admits to shooting Donna Lauria and her girlfriend Jody Valente. He says there were three other accomplices at the scene, two men “in a tan car,” and Michael Carr, whom Berkowitz claims is the shooter in the Queens disco shooting. He says John Carr killed Joanne Lomino and Donna DeMasi. Earlier in the documentary, Terry says he thinks John Carr looks more like a likeness in a police sketch than Berkowitz.

The documentary sets up the segment brilliantly. We believe we have seen Terry’s vindication. Berkowitz confirms and expands on every aspect of the story he has laid out. The highlights were broadcast nationally on Inside Edition. The documentary then puts Terry’s questions about Arlis Perry, a 19-year-old student who had been murdered at Stanford University on October 12, 1974 under a magnifying glass. Was Terry leading? His follow-up interview is sad to watch, almost as infuriating for the viewer as it must have been for everyone in the room at the time.

The documentary shows how Terry chased some dubious leads to bad conclusions, from desolate small towns to the heart of Hollywood. Roy Radin was a producer on the 1984 movie The Cotton Club. His body was found on Friday, May 13, 1983, at a deserted site in northern Los Angeles County. He had been shot in the head 13 times. After the police scoured the crime scene, Terry, along with private investigators, found a Bible in a tree near the murder scene, opened to a passage which can be interpreted as pointing to a Satanic connection.

Terry lumps too much satanic activity together. He sees satanic symbols everywhere. He sees codes in everything. He hits on the Process Church of the Final Judgement in the book The Family by Ed Sanders. Terry speculates the murders could be connected to Charles Manson, but the Process Church has always downplayed anything having to do with the man who killed the sixties. He published an article in their magazine, probably got high with them, but the Process Church had a history of suing anyone who suggests a connection. The four-part documentary series skirts this by avoiding some of the more problematic claims of Terry’s book, which also describes a mysterious figure called Manson 2, who was apparently being groomed for mystical mayhem.

The other story being told in The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness is the rabbit hole Maury Terry gets lost in. The arc of someone ignoring family, relationships, health, and ultimately life. The theories never move into QAnon ridiculousness. Terry’s initial investigation is well-researched and investigated. The evidence strongly suggests Berkowitz did not act alone. The segments where Terry puts together all the pieces could have been longer, because so many esoteric clues fly by so fast, the audience doesn’t get the chance to luxuriate in the spidery webs which connect everything. It is fun to go down this rabbit hole and make all these connections. It fills a similar need to crossword puzzles. True crime obsession is a fascinating topic.

The focus of the series is as much Terry as it is the Son of Sam killings. Terry is also his ultimate victim, dying in 2015, and still yelling orders on who to call to follow up a lead. It is a cautionary tale about the dangers of true-crime obsession. Terry is a fascinating character. His obsessions with Satanism, snuff films, and cash are compulsively watchable. But the coincidences which frustrate him are as damnably indictable as they are effectively inadmissible. John Carr was killed in February of 1978 in a shooting in Minot, North Dakota. Michael Carr was killed in a suspicious traffic accident in October 1979. His car was apparently run off the road on the West Side Highway.

The intrepid journalist isn’t even the smartest guy in the room. It’s the serial killer. If Berkowitz acted alone, he’s got defenders fighting the police narrative, the press narrative and the public’s fear. If Berkowitz did act on orders, he’s managed to keep himself alive while even his superiors wound up dead. Ultimately, Maury Terry only has two goals. He wants the police to apologize, and he wants to make sure the victims knew who shot them. Berkowitz knew far in advance he’d never get either.

“Maury, the public will never, ever truly believe you, no matter how well your evidence is presented,” Berkowitz tells Terry at the end of their first meeting. No matter how much evidence Terry compiled, no one was prepared to take him seriously.

The Berkowitz case is responsible for creating the Son of Sam law, which says no criminal can profit from the publicity of their crimes. The state can take any money earned and donate it to the victim’s families. New York should have jumped on it, milking Berkowitz dry, and paying for an investigation. The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness is compelling, exquisitely inconclusive, and long overdue.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness is available to stream on Netflix now. 

The post The Sons of Sam: A Descent into Darkness Review – Exhaustive Look Is Long Overdue appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3xP4e2I

[tamias]

i am feeling... a little tired. extremely anxious. all the time.i constantly feel like im flight or fight response. my mom doesn't know what shes doing and doesn't prioritize us, rather the house and the tenants. i have to literally feed her information and tell her to take initiative with our sweet pet dog. it's not just me who is his owner. but i do most of the loving, the caring, the spending time with him now that i'm older. she doesnt really care for him too much and the sight of him tires her. i have to tell her to wake up and pay attention if he's not feeling right or acting like himself. she'll only start when i walk into the room and tell her. it's like i have to spell things out for her. the only reason why our pet has cushings disease is because i was the one who noted it first, i pushed for him to get checked out, i had to fucking beg and convince her to. i don't go to the grooming appointments and vet appointments and i feel so hypocritical for that. but i push for them alot now that i'm more aware of how things are and how mnuch i can do now that i'm older. and i don't go to these appointments because unfortunately, i have severe anxiety from past experiences with her. she always made them a very big deal. i'd just feel bad for everything. i can't specifically put a name on what, but i can't even go grocery shopping with her. a car ride is excruciating enough. i'm just so stressed out. something is wrong with my dog and i'm trying my best to be responsible and vigilant and do what i can. i dont think it's enough, im a hypocrite. im a scaredy-cat, coward. i'm such a bad dog mom. i can barely fucking make enough money to get out of the house. are my meds even working? fuck. writing things down makes it better, they say. okay. i don't feel any better. i feel so tired of existing. i feel exhausted. as bad as it is, im not ready to have a sleepover with my niece this weekend. i'm so exhausted. im not a full time job person, or a mother, or anyone remotely hardworking. but mentally i fucking can't. im always so overly aware of my environment that my brain can't fucking deal and disassociates and im so tired. i want to move out so bad. i dream of having my own place. everything i do, my mother very subtle-y blames me or makes me feel bad for things out of my control. going to the doctor's with her yesterday when i didn't feel well-- first of all i had no idea you had a doctor's appointment. so how was i supposed to know, to take that initiative? why say something nice to me, and then call me lazy? why tell the dog, too, what's wrong with him, in the same breath as saying something nice about him? why do you do this to us? everyone feels bad for me that i live with you. that it's enough emotional stress. i feel like im under a high stress situation all the time in my head, and in my body. my heart beats a mile a minute, and my head feels like i'm sprinting on a hamster wheel and it's caught on fire and i still have to run. just absolute flight-orfight response, just pure stress. my head feels like theres so much pressure i want to pop.

i want to move out so bad. to make more money. but i am exhausted living here. no one fucking understands. no one gives me a chance. i'm so mad at the world. there's so much fucking drama right now with family and friends. i am fucking exhausted. things just keep getting harder and harder. people are making money, to live on their own, and are getting their dream jobs.

i am not hard working. my mother makes me believe i cannot achieve normal things people do. i probably can't keep a place of my own clean, anyway. but who knows? if i get out of this debilitating environment, maybe i'll have the energy to. i will not get a job and i will not have a career. my boyfriend will leave me and have a happy life he deserves. everyone would have a better life without me. my dog would not have to live with us because i wanted him-- he'd probably end up in a happy stable home if we didn't take him from the breeders 15 years ago.

theres always a voice in my head telling me none of this is worth it, it's all a joke, a big practical joke. like having hope is stupid. the voice just kind of goes-- this is your life. you are stuck here. there's no future. this is your life. you are a joke. it feels like embarrassment, and shame at having hope.

i dunno. i don't know if i feel better after writing this. i just want money, and to get away. im so hurt and tired. i just want things to get better. i wish i could focus on myself more and my work. i wish i wasn't so affected by my shitty mother and her behaviour. but it's a huge root in what's making me so dysfunctional. she acts aloof and acts cold and sad when i tell her to fucking wake up and do things. it stresses me out that im almost the one to remind her. i feel bad for reminding her. i shouldnt feel bad. teddy has a hair appointment at 8am on april 1. after i kept asking for her to please book a grooming appointment. and she said you better wake up. as if it was a punishment. no. its just something we have to do. stop making it something that makes me feel bad or i should learn a lesson from. today i ask her to please make a vet appointment. she said okay in a very guilt-inducing (in me) voice, quietly, not making eye contact, leaving the room and going up to bed. fuck you mom. you are the absolute fucking worst. you've done some great things. but at the end of the day, you're still you. a dumbass. a bitch. you will never change your ways and i will try my best to protect myself from you. you suck the life out of me. you drain me. my fuse is cut so short. any happiness i have, any willingness i have to have an actual conversation, to talk about responsibilities with our pet, you make me feel inferior. you make me feel less than. because of your own insecurities. you make me feel BAD for everything I do. because you are insecure. because you shift the blame. you have never done anything wrong in your LIFE. i am tired of you. i am on some days, tired of having a dog and it makes me upset because it shouldn't make me this fucking tired. i am tired of hearing your loud, ugly squawk and moan all day long. you are loud, you are disgusting, you are selfish, you are mean. you are a classic mentally ill narcissist and i hope you realize how much you've fucked up. all of that was mean, and i don't truly mean it. but it's the anger i feel on a daily basis. the reason why i have trouble falling asleep at night is because i dont get a moment of silence or peace to myself. the dog will constantly be awake at night sometimes. its hard to get him to sleep some nights. i will be stressed out forever. i am stressed out so much and it stays in my body for days and nights. i dont know. i just want a moment of peace. an escape. freedom. i deserve freedom.

[porkofdoom-blog]

Maru’s Little Secret

for @shortcut48

Eyelids fluttered and Maru can feel warm breaths below her neck. Maru groaned when she felt her arm muscles stiffened at the weight that pillowed her arm. Maru squinted at the huge familiar blur sighing when Maru shifted on their bed. It was one of the mornings that made Maru's heart clench. The first sight that greeted her when she opened her eyes. Maru can't help it, but to smile.

It was their morning night in their new apartment. After a year of dating, and a month of spending on each other's houses, they finally decided that it would be best if they shared a home instead. They bought a new apartment and it was the best among the selections offered to them. High ceiling, natural light and has a bathtub wide enough for two people. It has two-rooms, with the master bedroom that can fit a California King-size bed (but oh, com'on, they only bought a King-size though, after purchasing the said bed with red faces) and the other room as a make-shift office for Maru. The kitchen is to die for, good ventilation, and Maru can only imagine kissing her girlfriend into a beautiful curve on the dining table as she—

Then, there was the sound of their doorbell, breaking Maru's little moment of thinking–er... watching her beautiful girlfriend's slumber.

"Mmm... Urusai." The blur mumbled, her voice hoarse from all the karaoke they did with their friends last night. (Annoying.)

"I'll get it." Maru sighed and kissed her girlfriend's hair as she got up from their bed.

"Stay," her girlfriend says, burying her head to Maru's pillow and raised her arms trying to get a hold of Maru.

Maru caught her hand and kissed her fingers, "I'll be back before you know it." She grinned at her girl and tucked their blankets up to her chin.

Satisfied, her girlfriend only hummed her reply before sleep took over her again.

Maru chuckled as she got her eyeglasses and phone from the bedside table, then padded to the door when it buzzes again.

"Hai, hai! Ikemasu," Maru muttered, rushing to the intercom to check who was it. "Yes?" She watched the screen flickered to life and the delivery boy beamed to her. (Yes, yes! I'm coming.)

"Package for Hoshino-san!"

Ugh. Maru grimaced. It's too early to be this cheerful but nonetheless, she opened the door.

"Sign here, please!" The delivery boy chirped, showing a small clipboard with a receipt and a check mark beside the blank next to her printed name to sign.

"Thanks," Maru muttered after she scrawled her signature and took the medium box inside their apartment.

"You're welcome. Have a nice day!" The boy beamed again.

Maru only grunted before she toed the door close and the lock automatically clicked and a robotic voice echoed by the foyer, "Autolock enabled."

"Oh, it's from Hiroko-san..." Maru whispered to herself as she placed it on the middle of the coffee table. She sat on the couch and began on texting her aunt.

To: Hiroko Subject: Package Message: Good morning. Thanks for sending the rest of my things. I received it well. Send my regards to Aeri and samchon. :-)

She was about to open the package with a blunt edge of the nail file she found on her girlfriend's box of nail polish when her phone began to ring. She paused, placed the nail file back on the table and took her phone instead and went outside the balcony as she answered the call.

"Ohayo, Neko-chan~," Hiroko greated her, she gave a little wave at Maru, showing her fingers.

"Ohayo," Maru grinned, her cheeks flushed from the morning cold.

"Have settled okay?"

Maru had to roll her eyes. Hiroko had been protective of her and always have been a mother hen. She couldn't actually help it, even Maru thought of her as her mother, since Hiroko's family had been a positive influence in her life. Maru's always thankful that they met them.

So, Maru answered truthfully, nodding as she explained that, "Yes, we had assembled most of the furniture last week, we had filled the fridge yesterday and had already filled their closet with our clothes," blushing a little deeper when she thinks how they attempted to mix some of their clothes together.

"I'm glad," her aunt sighed, a peaceful expression resting on her face.

"Love?" Her girlfriend called out and Maru turned her head to their bedroom door.

"Oh! Is that—"

"Hiroko-san! I should go." Maru blushed as she walked back inside.

"Yes, yes. Send my regards to—"

Maru had accidentally cut the call off when her girlfriend draped herself on her back. Maru eyed her phone but thinks that Hiroko would surely understand...

"Was that Hiroko-san?" She mumbled, tickling Maru's ear. "Oh, you got a package."

"Yeah...", Maru gulped.

"I missed you."

"M-Me too."

Her girlfriend looked at her amused. But her grin turned into a frown after a few seconds.

"What's wrong?" Maru asked when her girlfriend pulled the blanket resting on her shoulders and dropped them to a nearby armchair.

"I had a call from the company."

"But it's your day off." Maru stated as a matter of fact. Her girlfriend rarely gets a day-off.

Before, they made plans to go out of town. They visit an onsen or sight-seeing but since they live together now, Maru only wants to spend it in their new home. Maybe cuddle for a bit in their new king-sized bed or break into it, as what other couples call it (Maru blushed at this). Or maybe they could watch a some Ghibli movies on their brand new TV set and make-out on their new couch and (again) break into it.

There's a list of areas Maru thought of to christen their new home... except the bathroom since the two bathed together last night and things... Well, things got escalated pretty quickly which both of them slept soundly afterwards, exhausted and blissed out.

"Anyway, I have to go." Her girlfriend said sadly and kissed her temple and started to walk towards the bathroom.

"Do you want me to accompany you?" Maru suggested.

"To the office? Or... to the bathroom?" Her girlfriend smirked, her hand resting on the bathroom's doorknob.

"Both?" Maru grinned as she started to follow her girl to the door.

Maru as a dutiful girlfriend helped her girl into her clothes delaying as much possible as she could. Placing little kisses in small areas she only gets to do and —

"Love, I'm going to be late."

She was drying her girlfriend's hair when she asked again," Are you sure it's going to be okay with me not being there?"

"Yes, and you already asked that before." Her girlfriend replied, putting one small swipe of strawberry lipgloss on her lips and started to spread it with her finger.

"Well, I can go. I have nothing to do here." Maru sighed, her outdoor clothes are already out of the closet and placed strategically on their bed.

Her girlfriend grinned as she spun around the stool and faced Maru. She plucked out the hairbrush and hairdryer from Maru's hands and placed it back to the table. She held Maru's hands as Maru pouted, leaning over to taste that strawberry-flavored lipgloss on her girlfriend's lips.

"You can't go." Her girlfriend sighed, placing a finger on Maru's lips only to get attacked with Maru's little kisses. "Besides, you have things to do like, walk Orion (their dog), feed Paru (their cat) and Jurina (their soft-shelled turtle) and, clean Sayaka and Miyuki's cage (their lovebirds)."

"I can call Sakura over and let her do all the chores. You know she likes to watch Jurina swim by."

"No, you have to do it yourself. And you call yourself a co-parent? And Sakura's probably just weirded out with that turtle", Her girlfriend tsked and started on showering herself with perfume. "I'll be back before lunch." And she kissed Maru squarely on the mouth, nibble a little on Maru's lower lip and squeeze her into a tight hug.

When they separated, Maru looked dazed and mind blown.

"I'll miss you," her girlfriend says again, sadly this time and planted a shy kiss on the corner of Maru's mouth and before Maru knows it, her girlfriend was out of the door.

"Autolock enabled," said by a robotic voice.

After a short walk in the park near their apartment, with only Orion glomping on some ducks and chasing pigeons while Maru nursing a hot coffee between her hands, they came back in her girlfriend-less apartment. Maru then feed their cat, Paru, and Orion. Both of them wiggling their furry butts as they inhaled their food.

She then feed a scoop of fish food to Jurina who was lazily swimming in her aquarium. When she went to birdcage by their balcony, she felt a pang of jealousy as the two love birds groomed eachother with their tiny beaks.

"Good for you two," Maru glumly muttered as she dump two scoopful of birdfeeds on their bowl.

She then proceeded to clean their apartment. Fixing their bed, wiping spotless tables and chairs, dusting bookshelves twice , and vacuuming their already dust free floor. When she was done, Maru slumped on the couch and noticed the unopened box on the coffee table.

"Oh!"

She remembered the package and proceeded on opening the box, this time with a box-cutter she found on the countertop.

When she was done, she carefully opened the flaps, tore layers of bubble wraps and watch the contents unravel to her.

It was her collection, carefully gathered all these years.

When Maru flew to Japan and had an unexpected turn in career, she was saddened to leave this part of her in Korea. Ofcourse her girlfriend knows these vast collection since she once visited her apartment in Korea and accidentally ran into her Shimazaki Haruka shrine while she was looking for the bathroom. It was a spare room dedicated to her most favored AKB48 member. And even in their new home, Maru never neglected to organize some of her collections she had bought as she stayed in Japan around her home office. Ofcourse her girlfriend didn't mind because she has, too, her own collections carefully placed around the house.

The posters which decorated her Shimazaki Haruka shrine before are now carefully rolled and wrapped in plastic. Her AKB48 CDs and Blu-ray DVDs which were proudly displayed before are now stacked up with a cushion of cloth in between the plastic case as Maru preferred not a scratch on them. The calendars were stacked and wrapped in a bubble wrap, afraid that the metal wires would scratch her other beloved merch. There are also action figures of her AKB48 favorite members with a number of Shimazaki Haruka in different poses and clothes and sizes each on their individual boxes. There's her Paruru mug which was custom-made, also a few pillow cases she ordered online. Also, cheap collection of ballpens, pencils, erasers, stickers, slippers (that is too big for Maru's feet), mouse pad, notebooks, and backscratcher and more. There's also her treasured photobook of Shimazaki Haruka, gifted to her by Hiroko and a few Shimazaki Haruka custom-made plush toys which samchon gave her every Christmas, and a photo album filled with carefully collected Shimazaki Haruka photos, which Aeri helped her bid online.

Maru can't help but to sigh lovingly at each item. She carefully removed each one from the box, letting her fingers trail at the plastic covering her collection. When she reached at the bottom of the box, she gasped at the sight.

It was her Nike shoebox. She reached for it and opened the cover.

There rested among the package peanuts is a foot-long balljointed doll.

The doll's glass eyes are looking at her under the fan of her black eyelashes. Her lips pink and glossy and her cheeks dimpled as she was smiling shyly to Maru.

"Baby..." Maru cooed as she lifted one resin arm and locked a finger in the inside of the hand of Shimazaki Haruka doll.

This doll had been a product of Maru doing small part-time jobs for months. She played online games for lame gamers, she tended the convenience store, she had fried some chicken and delivered jajangmyun to houses, she made lattes for snobbish office workers, she mixed alcohol for rich businessmen, and she had climbed mountains and picked ginseng for this. This doll is the embodiment of her hardwork, tears and blood, and obsession. This was the center, the Queen of her shrine and not even her girlfriend knows this (because the doll was inside her Nike box, a makeshift bed Maru made for her doll).

It started with her search for merchandises of her favorite idol. And after searching the web for various dolls, she has stumbled upon a small website for doll collectors. Some were pro in painting the doll's faces, making them look like famous actors and actresses, some were painted like idols and it perked her interest. She researched for 3 nights. Obsessively watching YouTube videos of doll owners. Reading Tumblr and blogsites of how to make your own wig, how to make doll clothes, how to make the eyeballs. And after a month of watching them she decided to save up money for her own doll.

After six months of working, and a month of waiting for the package, her custom-made doll arrived. She even made a box opening video for her to reminisce the first ever feelings she had.

She remembered she was slightly disappointed.

Her doll was faceless, her eye sockets are empty. Her face has no colors. The resin body is naked, and her head is bald.

A month later, her Shimazaki Haruka doll, was glaring at her. Maru thinks she needs to practice her face-painting more. Her clothes was a pre-made sailor uniform, ordered online because it was 75% off. Her socks have different lengths, because Maru don't know how to sew, and her shoes where from an old Barbie doll she found lying in a dumpster.

Maru was placing her newly made beanie made from her old sock on doll Haruka's head when Hiroko came inside her room. The older woman looked at the doll who looked like she has cancer because of the lack of wig and at the helpless look on Maru's face.

"Oh, Neko-chan..."

A week later, doll Haruka has 137 set of clothes, 87 pair of shoes, 53 undergarments, 41 pair of socks of different designs and sizes, 95 pieces of accessories, and 37 wigs of different hair color and styles. Doll Haruka had her face pofessionally painted, a small blush dusting her cheeks and her smile brighter with her glossed lips. (Courtesy of Hiroko-san) And had various home-made furnitures that Maru delicately assembled on nights.

Hiroko only beamed at her when Maru dressed her doll for the first time in Japanese traditional clothes. She trembled as she let it kneel on a small plush pillow and placing a small teacup on her little hands.

Maru smiled wetly at the doll and pulled the gloves folded and tucked at the bottom of the box's lid. She wore them and carefully picked the doll up, fixing the doll's wig, straightening her already straight clothes and fixing her shoes. She let it sit on the table and opened another box nested beneath her Nike box. "Now, what do you want to wear for today?"

Maru had finished putting her collection back to the box, re-taped it and placed it safely in their closet, except for her Nike shoebox and another box filled with doll clothes and accessories. When she received a text that her girlfriend would be late and that Maru could order some food for lunch but would be back for dinner. But Maru opened their cupboards instead, boiled some water and unpacked a pack of ramen.

When she placed it on the dining table, sitting across her on the table was doll Haruka on her own dining set and sporting a miniature ramen bowl and chopsticks on her hands.

"I'm glad you're keeping me company." Maru smiled and started on eating her noodles.

After lunch, Maru unboxed her gaming consoles and played games on their widescreen TV, beside her is doll Haruka and on her hand is her own plastic mini-gaming console, smiling at the TV all the same.

After Maru got bored playing, she pulled a random book from their shelf and lounged on the couch with her feet propped up by the arm on the end.

Beside her, on the coffee table is doll Haruka sitting prettily on her arm chair with a book.

Maru swooned.

Maru woke up with a start. The first ray of sunset filtered through the glass wall and she looked at the clock. In an hour her girlfriend would be coming home and she should be starting on preparing for dinner. But first...

Doll Haruka was standing on the breakfast counter. She's wearing a bandana headband to keep her bangs from falling and a pink frilly apron on her clothes. Her hands were rested on the countertop of her kitchen set as she watched patiently on her empty plastic pots placed on the top of the plastic stove.

Maru smiled as she tasted the soup from a pot and added a pinch of pepper to it.

"Perfect."

"I'm home!"

"Okaeri!" Maru rushed to the door. She placed her blue apron on the chair and meet her girlfriend who was placing her handbag on the couch. (Welcome home)

"How was your day?" Her girlfriend asked and meet Maru's lips halfway.

"Oh... It was fun!" Maru smiled and started on setting up the table.

"Fun? Really?" Her girlfriend muttered as she sat on one of the empty chairs which was replied with an enthusiastic hum from Maru. "Love, are you sick?" She asked because Maru doesn't do fun. She always replies with an, "okay", "it's alright" or "no, I missed you a lot" then would attack her with little kisses until she can't breathe.

"I'm fine, really."

"So... what did you do?" The girlfriend asks scooping the soup into the little bowls they bought two days ago.

"Well... I walked Orion to the park, feed all the pets and cleaned the litterbox, the birdcage and set the thermostat in Jurina's aquarium. Played some games for a while, read half of the book and slept for two hours then made dinner." Maru explained, her voice tilting in a melody she had never heard of before.

"O-okay..." She picked a pickle and munched on it, weirded out with her beloved enthusiasm.

When the two of them finished eating, Maru draw a bath for her girlfriend and started on cleaning the kitchen. Maru bathed after, put on some matching PJs with her girlfriend and eyed the Nike box on their closet longingly before walking to the bed and sitting beside her girlfriend.

"You know..." Her girlfriend whispered by Maru's ear that had Maru's stomach clench needily. "I don't have anything scheduled tomorrow morning. We could break in the bed today."

"Y-yeah?"

Her girlfriend bit her lip as she loomed over Maru. "Yes." As she kicked a leg and sat on Maru's lap. " I missed you a lot." She whimpered and embraced Maru tightly.

"I missed you, too." Maru breathed in a good amount of her girlfriend's scent.

And they kissed. Hungrily, exploringly and lovingly wild. Their hands roamed each other's bodies and as her girlfriend started to undress herself, Maru watched in horror when the closet door slowly opened.

"Baby!" Maru exclaimed and started on pulling her girlfriend's clothes back and held her hands tightly.

"Baby? You never call me that." Her girlfriend gaped. Then she was pushed aside by Maru as Maru rushed to the closet and locked it firmly.

Maru looked so panicked that her girlfriend got so curious over what was inside the closet.

"Love? What's wrong? Is someone in there?"

"N-no! Noone! There's no one." Maru assured her as she flailed her arms frantically.

"Are you sure?" She asked but Maru only gulped so she decided to take the matter in hand. She got up from the bed and shoved Maru aside after fighting for the door lock and opened the closet.

It was dark and full of their clothes and shoe boxes. Her girlfriend stuck an arm and started on reaching out to spacious areas and found that there as no one. She sighed and closed the door and put on the lock.

"Well?" Maru asked calming down and holding her girlfriend's hand pulling her away from the closet.

"There's no one."

"Told you so."

Her girlfriend only hummed as she went back to bed. Her back turned to Maru.

"Oyasumi," she said as she turned her lamp off on her side. (Good night.)

Maru only frowned, putting her own lights out and hugged her girlfriend from behind.

Their morning was domestic as ever. They shared slow kisses after Maru woke up ehen she found her girlfriend fixing breakfast. The impending fight forgotten from last night and the two lazily planted soft kisses in each other's lips.

"We could do it in the kitchen." Maru whispered as her left hand started on groping her girlfriend's right butt cheek and her other hand massaging the inside of her girlfriend's thigh.

"N-no, not in the kitchen. We cook food in here." Her girlfriend moaned but all the same grinded on Maru's fingers.

"Livingroom?"

"Oh, yes!"

When they reached to the living room they discovered that there were no curtains on their full glass wall.

"Bedroom." Her girlfriend started to pull her to their room but Maru look so scandalized and pulled her hand.

"No."

"Love?"

"Just... Just not there, please?"

Her girlfriend looked at her confused.she then headed straight to their room and started to open all the doors of their closet. Maru could ony watch her reach out again and started on checking if there was hidden doors or something.

When the last of the doors are closed, her girlfriend look like she was about to cry.

"Orion!" She called and dog bounced to their bedroom. "I'm going to walk the dog out." She announces and picked her coat and plucked the lead hooked beside the door. "I'm eating breakfast outside."

The door clicked shut.

"Autolock enabled."

For the first time, Maru felt ashamed.

Maru walked to the closet and opened the box. Doll Haruka was smiling brightly at her. She wore a white nightgown and there was a little dirt on her arm.

"I'm going to take care of you."

After cleaning up Haruka, she had the doll dressed up in some pretty sundress, matched her shoes to the color of her handbag and placed some sunglasses on her hair.

"Beautiful." Maru says and tears fell from her eyes.

She placed doll Haruka back in the box and waited for her girlfriend to return, her fingers deep in Paru's fur.

When the girlfriend returned, the two of them had red-rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks and red swollen lips. The two embraced tightly and cuddled on the couch and spent the rest of the morning watching some old Japanese gameshow.

Two days later, the girlfriend discovered some blonde strand of hair on their bathroom sink.

She clutched the strand of hair tightly and stopped herself from crying.

"Love..." Her girlfriend says as the two of them lied on their bed, equally naked as Maru acting as the big spoon and her girlfriend's back on her.

"Yeah?"

"You'll tell me when there's another person, right?" Her girlfriend whispered.

"Huh? What brought this on?"

"Please... Just tell me when that time comes, okay?"

"I don't understand."

"Please..." She trembled and Maru thinks this is her fault. She embraced her tightly as her girl curled in tighter to herself.

"I will... I promise." Maru says, but she knew that it would impossible.

"Thank you." She sobbed.

Four days later, the girlfriend found a small piece of jewelry on the carpet. It was a small tack earring with a small diamond on the end of the thin wire.

She placed it carefully on a piece of tissue and put it on the coffee table, where Maru could see it whenever she looks for it.

She left home in a hurry and came back by midnight — drunk.

Maru doesn't wear an earring.

Maru had enough. Her girlfriend doesn't even speak to her anymore. One day her girlfriend came home drunk, ignored Maru's nagging and questions of where she had been to or who was with her. Maru bristled when her girlfriend continued to ignore her and drunkenly dropped herself to bed without removing her socks and coat.

Maru just sighed to herself and started on undressing her girl. She wiped her body with warm water, clothed her and kissed her forehead worriedly. When she tucked her lover to bed and when settled beside her, Maru can feel her tremble and soft sobs whacked her small body. Maru did as best she could, holding into her lover afraid that when Maru wakes up, she would be gone.

Maru can't even understand what was happening. One week in their new home and their relationship is falling apart. She thinks that this is some curse or something. She definitely heard the landlord says that it was pre-owned by a married couple and decided to sell the place when they got divorced.

But Maru wasn't even religious. She paced on the kitchen sporting a new apron with the same design as doll Haruka, which was sitting on the countertop, her resin legs dangling on air.

"What should I do?" Maru whispered as she paced back and forth. "This definitely started when we made love in that new bed. She started on saying like there was some sort of third party between us."

Maru paused from her pacing and looked at the doll straight in its glassy eyes.

"She isn't cheating on me, right?" Maru whispered and she sunk on the nearby seat. "But she's not like that."

Maru thinks of the times her girlfriend pushed her when she tried to kiss her. There was one time when Maru playfully planted a kiss on her cheek, too overjoyed that she found the missing earring of doll Haruka the day before but her girlfriend only ducked away from her and ran to the bathroom muttering that she's going to be sick. Maru only ignored that time because after that encounter, she can hear wretching and vomiting in the bathroom. When Maru later came with a glass of water, she was again ignored as her girlfriend tells her that she wants some tea instead.

Maru watched doll Haruka which was smiling at her, never judging and also never talking. She sighed and Maru untied the apron from doll Haruka and started to pick another set of clothes from the box.

"Today, Haruka's going be a guest-host in a talkshow. Let's try to match her up."

Maru was excited, there was a new package delivered to her before dinner and when she opened it, it was the new curtains she had ordered online. Hiroko helped her match it up on the interior of their living room, also choosing the design and quality that would be suited during daytime and night.

Orion sniffed at the new curtain, followed by Paru who left after a few sniffs, uninterested. Jurina only swam by and the lovebirds ignored it, too busy cuddling on their perch.

"Autolock enabled."

The sound pulled Maru out of her thoughts and walked towards the foyer, welcoming her tired girlfriend as she plucked her shoulder bag and gathered her coat.

"Welcome home!" Maru greeted her lovingly. She was excited to do the most awaited deed on their couch. She knows that her girlfriend is looking forward to it. Maru though hard and she traced the problem way back when they tried to do it the living room but found out of the lack of curtains. Now, there are two beautiful heavy set of curtains hiding their privacy away from the public's eyes.

Maru placed the bag and coat on an armchair and led her girlfriend to the couch.

"I know that we should be choosing the curtain together but I wanted to surprise you."

Maru watched her girlfriend crane her neck and spare a look at the said curtain.

"I asked someone who is expert in this field. I showed her our interior and she said beige would suit our living room well. Then I had her picked among some items I personally liked but she said, I should choose this kind of material because it's durable, eash to clean and — Eh?! Why are you crying?"

Maru panickedly kneeled in front of her girlfriend as she started to cry. Maru tried to hold her hand but her girlfriend clutched at a throw pillow.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

"I'm not your baby!" Her girlfriend shouted which shocked Maru. "I—I... Let's breakup." She deflated and started crying harder.

"W-what do you mean? I... We just..." Maru started on babbling, she can't understand this situation. Her girlfriend should like her surprise. She was very sure of it when she picked the design, even their dog approves of it. She started on rummaging her thought of what to say but she's reaching nowhere and she's starting to feel so helpless. Then her thoughts stopped altogether and Maru can only think what can make her beloved stay."... So much. I—I love you so much."

"Do you?!" Her girlfriend snarled and threw the pillow at her. "You were... You were ch-cheating on me."

Maru gawks and she threw the pillow back to the couch. "I'm not! I'm not cheating on you. Where did you get that idea?" Maru softened her glare, there must be some reason why her beloved girlfriend acts like that. But there wasn't anybody else. She had remained loyal and so, so inlove with this girl that sometimes it scares her. "Tell me who told you that!"

"No one!" There were tears on her girlfriend's eyes, rolling to her cheeks, never ending. And Maru badly wanted to brush them away. "You bought this damn curtain with her, right?!" She waves forcefully at the curtain and surprising Orion and Paru which made tge two fluffs raced to the kitchen.

"No way! Hiroko-san helped me buy it!"

"Excuses!" She scoffed and shoved Maru. "Who's that girl you were hiding then? You even let her entered OUR apartment! I saw a blonde hair on the sink when neither of us had dyed hair! And–and there's this earring I saw the other day. I don't own that one and I know don't even wear one! Tell me if that isn't proof enough! And on our second night–oh, god, our second night into OUR NEW home and you invited someone else into OUR room. Just who is that you were hiding that night in that damned closet?!!" Her girlfriend heaved and like a burnt out candle she stopped crying as she realizes something.

"I'm going to... move out." Her girlfriend says and it's enough to bring Maru out of her shock.

"No..." Maru whispered as she held on her girlfriend's hand.

"I should leave... Now!" She says as she tried to free her arm, pulling it from Maru's grasp.

"No, let me explain!" "And then what?! Hurt me some more?" She pulled her arm successfully but she ended up sitting back couch instead. Maru kneeled infront of her again. Her heart ached when she saw the tears on Maru's eyes. God, she love this girl so much for letting Maru do this to her. The girlfriend thinks she doesn't deserve to be this hurt. But she also thinks that Maru shouldn't be this hurt when Maru was the one who was hurting her from the start. So, she gave up, giving small chance to fix this. To fix them.

Lacing their fingers together as Maru begged her, "Come with me. I need to show you something. Please..."

How could she deny when Maru looks so desperate to her? She nods and followed Maru to their bedroom.

Maru lets her sit on the bed as she opened the closet and got a shoe box. She placed it on her girlfriend's lap and urged her to open the box.

She gasped. The doll looked at her with a small shy smile, a blush on her resin cheeks, as she meets her owner's beloved girlfriend for the first time.

"She's... She's..." She has no words for this but Maru helpfully finished her sentence.

"She's... You."

And Shimazaki Haruka cried and laugh so hard as she clutched the box tightly, afraid to muss up the delicate doll nestled on a bunch of foamy peanuts.

"I hate you so much." Haruka says as she throw a fist to Maru's chest. Maru caught it and kissed her fingers which made her cry some more.

"I love you, too."

That night they placed doll Haruka by the couch she's wearing mini-headphones and a small laptop was perched on her lap. Beside her is Paru on her back and her white belly exposed.

The two dorks are inside their bedroom, making love slowly, kissing tears in each other's eyes as they explored a new part of their relationship.

"I still hate you for letting me cry this much." Haruka pulled Maru closer, letting their lips touch but doesn't kiss.

"I hate myself, too, if that would comfort you." Maru grinned, her eyes, too, are puffy and Haruka gently brushes some stray hair from her cheeks.

"So... She's Baby?" Haruka shyly asked.

"Hn... My Baby."

"And... And, what am I to you?" Haruka looked so small when she asked it, she held on to Maru afraid that a doll would win her lover over.

"You're my lover, my girlfriend, my partner, my everything, my forever... My love and life. My beautiful, beautiful Haruka."

Haruka blushed and she ducked her head. "You're an idiot." Haruka says, planting a soft kiss on Maru's kiss-bruised lips.

"Your kind of idiot." Maru murmured and started on deepening the kiss. "And besides, Baby and I go way back. She was everything."

There was a sparkle in Maru's eyes that made Haruka gritted her teeth. "Shut up."

"Make me — A–Ah... Haruka~"

Two months later, there was a built-in glassed-covered wooden shelves in the living room. Each shelf was designed like a room, filled furnitues and trinkets of random miniature things. And on the bedroom at the top most shelf are two dolls sitting on a miniature couch, resin hands holding and equally smitten with each other.

Doll Haruka smiled her dimpled smile while doll Maru had a small smile playing on her lips. The two are wearing a couple sweater. Pink and full of hearts.

The two are equally and irrevocably in love.

Extra:

"My Baby's all grown up!" Maru sobbed as she placed doll Haruka carefully on the miniature bed, beside doll Maru.

"Someday, you'll find yourself sleeping on the couch alone." Haruka warned and pushed the glass cover close. There was a small click and she walked back a step to look at their miniatures selves looking quite contented in their bed.

"Oh... Are you jealous, Shimazaki-san?" Maru teased then wrapped her girlfriend in her arms.

"Congratulations, Hoshino-san. You just won a night in the living room." Haruka bristled as she opened the latch of the doll house and pulled doll Maru out, leaving doll Haruka with a sad smile. "Yobo and I are going to sleep in the bedroom tonight." Haruka left a gaping Maru. "I'll leave the blanket to you, it gets cold here." Then the sound of the door lock.

"Y-Yobo?!?"

[lolbtsaus]

Get To Know Me Tag

I was tagged by the lovely jeons-jalebi, thank you for tagging me!!

RULES: you must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

THE LAST:

1. Drink: water (literally all I ever drink) 2. Phone call: I don’t really call people?? I get random numbers calling me but I don’t answer bc I don’t know them so I guess my last call was to my mom’s fiance bc he had lost his phone and we were trying to find it by calling it 3. Text message: the last one I sent was to my mom 4. Song you listened to: Into You by Ariana Grande 5. Time you cried: it would probably be back in October or November 

HAVE YOU EVER:

6. Dated someone twice: nope 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: no 8. Been cheated on: nope 9. Lost someone special: yeah 10. Been depressed: not really no 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: never drank

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12: Anything pastel 13: Blue 14: Dusty rose/rose gold that type of shit

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: yep 16. Fallen out of love: nope 17. Laughed until you cried: hell yeah I have a cat that loses her balances just grooming herself 18. Found out someone was talking about you: no 19. Met someone who changed you: not really no 20. Found out who your friends are: yep 21.  Kissed someone on your Facebook list: I don’t have a facebook

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: don’t have a facebook 23. Do you have any pets: I got my bby furball, Annie who is my cat, a dog named Lenny and a dog named Dobbie 24. Do you want to change your name: Nah I like my name 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: My mom, her fiance and I all went to this restaurant we love and then we came home and played Catan and it was probably my favorite birthday ever, I also had a late celebration with my entire family in like April, around Easter bc I have a huge family and we can’t get together on every individual birthday bc people got jobs and they live in different cities so we do group bdays so all of the recent bdays were celebrated and mine was one of them and I got to blow out a candle with all of my cousins that had had a bday 26. What time do you wake up: like 5:30-6 pm bc my sleep schedule is fucked up 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: either eating, writing or watching youtube shit I don’t really remember 28. Name something you can’t wait for: to move 29. When was the last time you saw your mom? a couple hours ago, when I thanked her for cutting us up some cantaloupe 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: I wish I could be moved into another city bc I do not like the city I live in now but that’s pretty close to happening (maybe, if we find a place in another city but I’m getting vibes from my mom that she wants out too so fingers crossed) 31. What are you listening to right now: a megamix 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: no I don’t think so 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: landlords/owners of houses bc this is the second time in two years a home owner has been like oops get out we bailing 34. Most visited website: youtube or tumblr or this one site I use to play a game I’ve played for years 35. Mole/s: I have three or four on my neck, I have one on my shoulder, one on my shoulder blade, I have a few 36. Mark/s: I have a few freckles/moles, I have a couple scars and a birthmark 37. Childhood dream: to become a vet 38. Hair color: brown but like with red undertones 39. Long or short hair: short for sure 40. Do you have a crush on someone: no, my last term, I sat in between two people and both of them had rings on their fingers :’) 41. What do you like about yourself: I like how open minded I am 42. Piercings: none but I want like ten 43. Blood type: I have zero clue 44. Nicknames? Sae 45. Relationship status: single 46. Zodiac: Pisces 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: Bob’s Burgers, Game of Thones, Vikings, Rick and Morty, etc. 50. Right or left hand: Right handed 51. Surgery: None 52. Hair dyed in different color: Yup, too many colors 53. Sport: the closest I got to a sport was archery and I only did it for a month bc my arm kept getting scratched and bruised from the string snapping against it bc my instructor wasn’t paying attention and didn’t correct me and it was only when my brother (who also did archery a few years ago) came with me that he noticed and pointed it out and we never went back bc my arm had bruises that would nearly cover my entire forearm every single week and that’s not cool 54. Piercing: None yet 55. Vacation: my last vacation was to visit my grandparents but my dream vacation would probably be Sweden or Denmark or Iceland or Busan 56. Pair of trainers: idk I think they’re Vans I’m too lazy to go find out

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: I just ate half of a cantaloupe and it was great, I got a bit of cat fur onto one piece, brushed it off and ate it anyways 58. Drinking: water 59. I’m about to: I’m about to go: write maybe or finish watching Hyuk’s vlive bc I forgot Vlive had other groups on it for a minute there and now I’m catching up 60. Waiting for: school 62. Want: to move and also breadsticks 63. Get married: I think I do I’m iffy about it, idk if I’d break up with someone if they didn’t want to I don’t think I would 64. Career: pfft fuck if I know, paleontology, paleo-anthropology or marine science/biology bc fuck me

WHICH IS BETTER

65. Hugs or kisses: hugs with kisses on the forehead good shit 66. Lips or eyes: eyes, for sure 67. Shorter or taller: Taller but I’m not picky  68. Older or younger: Older, I’m too young to be going younger 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Nice arms or nice stomach: I guess both, I’m not that into muscles,I can appreciate a really good soft stomach though 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship: Relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant but not too hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a Stranger: nah 75. Drank hard liquor: haven’t drank 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I once woke up from a nap at like 3 AM and couldn’t find my glasses so I had to wake my mother up and have her find them for me (they were on the other side of the room somehow) 77. Turned someone down: nope, never been hit on (cue the slow tear) 78. Sex on the first date: haven’t been on a date 79. Broken someone’s heart: no, not that I know of and I don’t see how I would’ve 80. Had your heart broken: nope 81. Been arrested: hell no, I’m the same one that never skips classes or leaves early 82. Cried when someone died: does it count if it was a cat 83. Fallen for a friend: no, I’ve had lowkey crushes though but it was one of those situations where it was like is this a crush or am I just liking this person as a human bean like do I make a move here do I wanna make a move 

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84: Yourself: yes 85. Miracles: meh 86. Love at first sight: I believe in attraction at first sight, I personally couldn’t love someone until I love them really well 87. Santa Claus: I want to bc that’s an awesome theory but nah 88. Kiss on the first date: depends on who it is 89. Angels: I’m pretty iffy on religious things, I don’t know what I believe yet but I would like to think they exist

OTHER:

90. Current best friend’s name: I have a few really close friends that are all my best friends for different reasons and aspects, I’d say someone I can confide in and talk to no matter what is Ally, she gives amazing advice and is super sweet

91: Eye color: light brown

92: Favorite movie: Quest For Camelot, Jurassic Park

I tag everyone that wants to do this as well as wasabi-duck bc ily and I don’t think I’ve tagged you in any of these yet ?? but you should do it it’s fun

[card-gays]

Which of your ships could you see getting married and/or having children? And which ones would, at most, just move in together and maybe get a pet?

I love this question!!! But some preamble first: some couples are in lifelong romantic relationships, but don’t actually want to get “married” in a legal sense. Which I only mention bc I do have some ships like that~ And, since I definitely have too many in general, I’m only gonna do a few here. Other than that, you can feel free to ask if there’s one I don’t mention that you want an answer for. ^^ One in particular I left off was Prideship. Which sounds funny considering it’s My OTP, but I know I’m gonna have a mile long answer for it, and I wanted these to be about the same length so.. lol

(Also, prepare to see how different combos weirdly change my ideas for whether or not certain characters have kids/get married.)

So here we go- 

THE COMMITMENT CHART!!

Peachship (Anzu/Yugi):- Anzu and Yugi I can easily see going from dating to getting married. They’re not exactly traditionalists, but they plan on being committed long term, and they love the idea of saying so publicly to everyone they know with a huge commemorative party. So why not! Like, especially after they’re both well established in their careers enough that Yugi can work from anywhere and just location hop with Anzu if she’s going to be abroad for work for more than a few months, or if they need to move so she can work at this one really prestigious theater… Either one of them would absolutely pop the question once they’re sure they’re happy living like that. And the Mazaki-Mutous would be a wonderful couple. As for kids… idk. I know Yugi’d be happy as a homemaker, so that’s taken care of, but I think Anzu would have to have branched out into acting or something first. I’ve heard being a professional dancer and a parent is really difficult, what with the travel, and while she’s said over and over her dream is dancing, her not mentioning kids makes me think Dream First? So I imagine her dream would have to shift to a different career before she’d consider it. After that? Probably yeah.

Rishid/Otogi (Totemship maybe? god help me):- Rishid and Otogi seem like they would be a really really really fun couple, but while I don’t have a hard time seeing them being a serious couple, the endgame couple/marriage headcanons elude me… because I don’t have a very firm grasp on Otogi? ^^” So I can definitely see and headcanon as far as “they date for a few years, have a great time together, and definitely get as far as moving in and getting a dog", but that’s about it. They are absolutely a pair that’d just be enjoying it as it happens, so I can easily think of them as being a long term committed couple, I just need to work on seeing the details. This is absolutely an open invitation for you guys to throw some headcanons at me. xD

Identityship (Rishid/Ryou): (I don’t get the ship name but I saw someone already made one and I’m taking it for now xD)- Okay so… I don’t even know how, but this ship’s really gotten me wrapped up in it. and it’s gonna have to be it’s own post because it’s A Lot. I think it takes awhile for them to get to the Dating stage because they’re both really careful people due to their pasts, and they both really want to be sure it’s not going to be anything that could get between Rishid and Malik’s bond as siblings. But the moment they’re sure everything’s in the clear, they’re near to inseparable. Ryou is a Cuddler if ever I’ve seen one, and Rishid never really had a chance to realize that was something he is Totally About until that first time cozied up on a couch for a movie. They probably move faster than they should for a bit, moving in right away, letting their ~pillow talk~ bridge into talking about their future a lot relatively soon, but somehow for them it just Works. Probably because they’re both totally honest about it. The only hiccup I can see is imo Rishid would absolutely want children, whereas Ryou’s got some anxieties about being 50% responsible for a small human bean. But, considering Ryou’s roadblock are fears capable of being worked through, instead of just not wanting any, I can see him getting on board with the idea all by himself the easiest if he’s with Rishid. I mean… the guy’s not only got experience helping to raise a kid, he’s got experience helping to raise a kid who is partially possessed. As far as well equipped partners go? Rishid’s got that pretty darn covered. (and as for the fears Ryou’s got about what kind of parent he’d be? Rishid’s right there with all the reassurances anyone could need) Their wedding would be simple, I think, but sweet. The people closest to them, a few of their own traditions mixed together in a lovely ceremony, and then Lots of pastries. (who knew Rishid shared his weakness for cream puffs…)

Visionship (Isis/Mai):- Okay so like…. these are No Kids Please people to me. Like they enjoy them, love them even, but… from someone else. Their nieces and nephews (in the traditional sense but also their friends’ kids) are adored and spoiled beyond belief by Isis and Mai, but they are not having kids. They’d rather travel the world and live in peaceful luxury, feeding each other fruit while sunbathing as people look at them in envy and awe. Or blowing exorbitant amounts of money on clothes and makeup and jewelry and perfume. Backpacking across Europe or relaxing in Spain, etc. They’d have a wonderful life together, with 0 regrets to the path they chose. Funnily enough, they are also probably the first of all of them to actually get married. It’s formal, it’s gorgeous, and honestly almost everyone cries when they first look at each other to walk down the aisle together because they are So In Love. The reception is a Party And A Half though. So whichever one of them (or both, if both) wanted to wear a dress definitely has a second one to have a great time dancing in…. Mai probably throws the bouquet, just so she can make sure Malik catches it and watch him have a meltdown trying to hand it to someone else.

The next three are just different combos of the same three people (Yugi/Ryou/Jou), and actually could all function together, so I’ll list them in one go!

Wishship (Jou/Yugi):- I see Jou and Yugi bouncing back and forth on the idea of a formal marriage because it’s not That important to Yugi (though he does want a cake) and Jou’s never really considered it so long as they’re gonna be together anyway. That said, they are fairly sure about wanting kids. Yugi’s always been an “either way is fine” kind of guy, and since Jou is really about adopting some precious kid of his own one day, Yugi is completely for it. If they did get married, they’d probably pick something fun and informal. Small and sweet ceremony, “reception” at a rented out arcade (thanks, Mokuba!)… Who’s ready for some laser tag? Family and friends of the grooms divided up into two teams, with Jou and Yugi as team captains. The losers still get cake but the winners get bragging rights. GO! (the fate of the match actually comes down to Shizuka, a sharpshooter, and Rebecca, the princess of finding cover)

Heartship (Ryou/Yugi):- By contrast, Ryou and Yugi are very sure about wanting to get officially married, and probably talk a lot about it well before the actual engagement. They know they don’t want to get married right away, but hey, they’re comfortable talking about ideas for it anyways…. They land on saying their vows beneath the projected ‘sky’ of a planetarium, with a similar motif for the reception. Their engagement and wedding bands, too. It’s all very sweet, though the vows get kind of existentialist. xD But because (as mentioned above) Ryou’s got some anxieties about it, and because it’s not super important to Yugi, I’m not sure about them with kids. Which is fine. They adopt some cute pets and have fluffy-children instead, plus they make great uncles to their friends’ kids! It’s a wonderful life.

(side note: Atem would be a bit jealous of the planetarium vow idea when he first hears about it. it’s Such A Good idea. Kaiba would offer off-handedly a honeymoon on the rebuilt space station when Atem mentions it. And Atem nearly drops his fork in surprise because they’d never talked about…. that’s the first time he’s…)

Jou/Ryou/Yugi (Cuddleship?):- This is where it all kind of comes together. xD Jou would consider the whole wedding thing a bit more seriously with Ryou involved, because while for Yugi it’s not a very big deal (so he wouldn’t mind if they didn’t do it), it is a pretty big deal for Ryou. So while the three of them initially plan to just be long-term committed with each other, with Yugi and Ryou being married officially as well, their planning would lead him to wonder if, you know, there really is much of a difference between what he wants out of not getting married and what he’d get if he was officially married. And the thing is? There’s really 0 difference for him. So if it really makes a difference emotionally to Ryou, yeah, he can do that. And (answering the very first question Ryou has when he says it) he can happily do it, wants to do it. “It’s just a promise made in front of a bunch of people, instead of in private. I’m okay with that.” Tbh he probably sort of catches some excitement for the idea before he even decides to tell them about it. He still doesn’t get the difference, personally, but he’s really excited and all about what it itself means and how happy Ryou and Yugi will be to plan it with him. As for kids….. okay, anxiety aside, Ryou honestly loves them? They’re messy and expensive and loud and all but made to give you a heart attack… but he loves them, and he’d want to have one. And with two other parents around to help, after a couple years, he feels comfortable bringing it up himself and saying he’d like to talk seriously about possibly adopting a baby. (they do. and name her “Amane”)

[drferox]

20 questions with Dr Ferox #3

It’s that time of the week again where I desperately try to churn through a chunk of questions in the vain hope of shrinking my inbox. I will attempt to tag you in your question, but you know what tumblr is like, however if you asked on Anonymous you’ll just have to scroll through to see f your question is here. There’s also a cool cat picture. In no particular order...

@a-floral-ghost asked: What is parvo? I know it's a disease(?) That puppies get but I don't actually know what it is

Parvo in this contest refers to canine parvovirus, a horrendous disease of dogs which is very persistent in the environment but generally well prevented by vaccination. You can read more about it here.

Anonymous asked: Do dogs need to be bathed? I live in a rural area so a lot of people here only give a dog a bath when it's gotten in to something? Is bathing frequently vs infrequently vs never a big issue? 

Unless you are targeting a particular skin condition and using a medicated or therapeutic shampoo, most dogs don’t require a bath more than once a week, however many will go months or years without a bath with no problem. Grooming should still be done, because long coats can matt very easily and cause pain, but it’s not strictly necessary that every dog receive a regular bath.

Another Anonymous asked: Why do dogs shake/tap their feet when you scratch them in the right spot

Generally it’s a reflex. However if you already have itchy skin (often infected) and you start rubbing, you make the itch worse and the dog is compelled to scratch.

Yet another anonymous asked: We have an almost two year old female great dane (just over 1 year and 8 months) who is on the small side. She only weighs about 125 pounds and stands about 3 feet at the shoulder. She is my moms pride and joy but she refuses to get her spayed until she is 3 years old. I've read varying info about spaying giant breeds too early or too late. What is the general age a smallish Dane should be fixed? We have never had a giant breed before. Question tax, came for the stories, stayed for the knowlage

While I won’t give specific advice about any animal I cannot examine, at 3 years of age there will be no protective benefit for mammary cancer, though it will still prevent pyometra. Generally for a large, short-lived breed I would spay around skeletal maturity. There is a discussion here, and many of the reblogs are worth reading too.

@ happinessisnotalwaysfun said: It's ferret shed season! Ferrets don't cough up hairballs, and they can kill or cause big bills; but they still lick a lot due to discomfort. Ferretblr has lots of theory methods for helping - vaseline, pumpkin, raw egg, fish oil, ferretone - but no evidence. Is there a best way to help my catweasel digest fur safely? Any evidence, or suggestions?

I would generally use a feline laxative, but raw egg, fish oil and ferretone are probably not doing any harm. There’s not a lot written about this in ferret textbooks, but it does not get as cold down here so perhaps our ferrets are less fluffy. I would avoid vaseline because I generally avoid oil based products for animals, and I would avoid pumpkin because I don’t want to add that much fiber to the short gut of a possessed sock puppet ferret.

@taskmaking asked: I love your blog! I came here because of fantasy biology, stayed for everything else. I have a cockatiel who's pretty old (19ish) and he's flightless and blind apart from light/shadow. It's hard to get him to step up because he thinks your hand is attacking him. Is there anything I could do to make that easier on him?

Bird are not really my forte. Perhaps coupling the step up request with a sound or texture that he cal learn to associate with safety? Being blind is tough on a prey species.

@perryloveslamps said: Not sure what a question tax is but love your blog.   So my Doberman/Rat Terrier has 7-9 small 2cm fat polyps that we've had examined by our vet as soon as we find a new one and they always turn out to be fatty lumps. Now this YT Channel I watch (VetRanch) removed a small lump the same size within days of finding it because the Vet "Doesn't like lumps on Boxers."  Are different breeds more prone to fat polyps rather than cysts or tumors and visa versa? Thanks so much! 

Boxers are colloquially known in the veterinary community as ‘cancer factories’. They just get cancer very easily and very young. In particular they often get Mast Cell Tumors, which are sneaky bastards that can look like anything, and can easily be mistaken for a benign cyst or lipoma. The paranoia is sometimes too much to bear, so it’s not unreasonable to remove every vaguely suspicious lump of a boxer when they’re on the younger side and still have a good heart.

Anonymous asked: if it were at all possible, would you ever treat or study coywolves?

Sure, possibly, if the opportunity presented itself. But they are on the other side of the world and I’d rather be involved in species closer to home, like our own dingo, bilbies, whale sharks, tassie devils or (if one dares to dream) resurrected thylacines.

Anonymous asked: What's your personal opinion on big poodles? Not from a vet point, just what do you think of them? 

How very glad I am that you haven’t asked for a veterinary opinion when i have already answered that question.

Generally I think they’re treated a bit too much like toys and not allowed to be dogs by certain owners, particularly the smaller ones that are easier to carry everywhere. Which is a shame because there’s a real, proper dog under all that frou frou if you avoid turning it into a nervous wreck.

A presumably different Anonymous asked: i've wanted to be a vet since before i knew the word but it wasn't until a few years ago that i really fully grasped what it meant. i got into the aquarist hobby several years ago, and two moments really solidified my career choice. The first was when one of my fish fell ill and after a round of treatment, was entirely better. the second was when i tried everything i could think of to save a betta i had and it died anyways. it was horrible, i cried for hours, but i realized: i want this life.

Sorry about your little fish friends. I kept a lot of bettas when I was in  high school, they’re certainly addictive and do have personality. For a while I considered moving somewhere tropical to save on heating costs so I could keep more.

Anonymous said: Me and my aunt both have maltese dogs, but they're very different. Ours is a very sturdy boy with thick legs and a body built vaguely like a lhasa, he's somewhere around 6kg. Hers has a very different structure, she is much smaller (around half his weight I think) and lankier, with a very long, thin muzzle. It actually kinda looks like the differences you'd see between the different Poodles, so I was wondering, are there different breeds of Maltese too, or could one of our pups be a mix? 

I can only hazard a guess, but I suspect one or both dogs are probably a mix, and I would suspect the larger one. Lots of dogs that are small and fluffy enough just get sold as ‘maltese’ through pet stores because that’s popular.

@ sketchywyvern said: What is your favorite fur color/ pattern on cats?

While it’s hard to beat a bold mackerel tabby, I’m finding the karpati pattern particularly interesting lately.

@2goldensnitches said: Dr have you had to treat budgies before? Mine like it when I give them spinach, kale and clover to eat but are very picky about accepting pellets instead of seed, and they refuse to try fruit at all. I hope it doesn't mean that they'll get future health/dietary problems

It’s very rare for me to see a budgie in normal hours because there’s a clinic with a better bird set up nearby, and most people are unwilling to pay the after hours fee for a budgie. They are likely getting enough vitamins from the green leafy vegetables so I wouldn’t worry about the fruit, and as long as they are eating the pellets and not starving themselves I wouldn’t stress too much.

Anonymous (Anonymouse?) asked: Can pet mice get rabies vaccines? Even if they're of questionable origin, would it even be necessary?             

It would be off label use and potentially ineffective. I don’t know of any documented mouse rabies infection that occurred naturally, though I understand it can occur in laboratory conditions. To catch rabies a mammal basically needs to be bitten by an infected animal and survive the bite. The odds of a mouse receiving a deep enough puncture wound and surviving long enough to catch rabies is fairly low.

@badgerface890 asked: Would tail docking fix a dog's problem with obsessive tail chasing? Or would the fixate on the stump or something else?

Depends why the dog is obsessively tail chasing, and I can’t comment specifically on an animal I cannot examine. They may fixate on the stump, they may not be chasing the tail, just running in circles, or there may be a painful neuroma in the tail causing the behavior. There may also be a brain abnormality responsible for the behavior, or a genuine obsessive disorder that would be better treated with medication.

Anonymous asked: I know your opinion about overbred dogs (e.g. pugs and apple-headed chihuahuas), but what about cats? Munchkin cats look incredibly cute, but I can't help but think they have to have some serious joint problems. Is feline selective breeding as problematic as it is with dogs, or it doesn't really affect their quality of life as much?

Anonymous friend, i would dearly like to refer you to the search function of this website. You can even search for munchkin cat to see if this has already been discussed. 

Anonymous asked: Hello! I have recently gotten into the habit of feeding the crows that roost near my home ( they seem to thrive well on the dog food mixed with raw chicken egg and sides of fruit I give them) , and I was wondering if there was any advice you could give me to make sure I am feeding them good foods? Thank you!

I’m not sure which country you’re in, but Australian Ravens are the most common ‘crow’ here, and they are mostly carnivorous. Feeding dog food is probably not that bad a balance. Lots of people feed cheap beef mince which is too fatty and deficient in vitamins, causing nutrient deficiency in young birds. You can reduce this by using a low fat mince and mixing it with a insectivore bird rearing mix.

However, it’s generally inadvisable to feed wildlife as it makes them dependent on human support for survival and will change both their behavior and the local ecology. If you’re going to do it anyway I’d rather they be fed something that’s good for them, but question why you feel that wild animals need to be fed in the first place.

@reachyourlimit said: Have you ever encountered a dog with patches of ingrown hairs? My dog has 2 symmetrical patches ~2cm diameter on either side of her tail on her pelvis(?), they've been there for a long time, yet she doesn't care one bit about them. She's been to the vet for them, all she told us to do was keep them clean like I would for ingrown hairs on myself until they finally break the skin, but she'd never seen it before, she even took pictures to show other vets at the clinic later (question tax to come)            

They’re reasonably common on the feet, between the toes, of prickly coated dogs like staffordshire bull terriers and shar peis. They can get infected and be uncomfortable, but sometimes don’t bother the dogs at all. It’s odd to have symmetrical patches in a place where the skin isn’t rubbed a lot. It might be dysplasia (which is pretty harmless) instead of ingrown hairs, but if they’re not malignant, not a symptom of metabolic disease and not bothering the dog then it’s of low concern.

@ seriouslyy asked: Do you have any child/puppy behavior resources? A friend's uncle just got a new puppy, and their 6 year old is loving the puppy, chasing her, carrying her around, feeding her treats, and the parents just keep saying "aww look the puppy loves her" when she is clearly stressed and just bit the child. The child is rather spoiled (personal opinion) and the parents are just so excited their daughter is happy, and won't listen to my friend. So i'm hoping outside sources would help them understand.

Hmm, there’s not really a website I tend to refer people to. I usually have handouts in the clinic. ABC’s Catalyst program had some decent videos about understanding dog behaviour that are easy to understand, and you might want to ask @why-animals-do-the-thing for a list of resources. The last think anyone wants is a kid getting bitten.

And finally another Anonymous asked: Do you enjoy running this blog? I was looking at some of your super old post and feel kind of bad that this was supposed to be an escape but kind of became your job.

I have spend a long time avoiding answering this question because I wasn’t totally sure of the answer. I enjoy some parts of this blog, the interesting questions and discussions it generates. I love it when something is drawn based on something I wrote, whether it’s a throwaway comment or a story or a fantasy biology creature.

But I don’t like being treated like a personal Google. I don’t mind clarifying an answer, or discussing a complex topic, but when a question could have very easily been answered b a single, quick Google search it just feel a little...disrespectful I guess. I spend a lot of time on this blog. I’m not keeping up with the questions I get already. I spend even more time in my jobs and I would really, really like to get back to more fiction writing in addition to all the other life stuff I’ve got going on, so it’s really difficult not to be snarky at some of these questions.

But I do like the community. I like what gets created. So I take the good along with the bad.

I adore my Patreon supporters, but this blog doesn’t pay anything like my real jobs. If it did then I could afford to work a few days less per month to write more.

[twaaaaaa]

Update on athletics, goals and life in general

This post is long-winded, vulnerable and brutally honest. You’ve been warned.

So this season was a total bust.

I set out on the 2016-17 season with pretty clear goals: go less intense than last year, concentrate on just a few half-Ironmans and build up to an Iron in April at a pace that wouldn’t burn me out like what happened to me last year. Simple, right?

And then life got in the way.

For various reasons, I missed two half-Irons in the fall. (The first was a trade-off - cancel my vacation but take a promotion at work. The second was a missed flight.) No big deal, right? It’s a bit of missed momentum, but nothing that can’t be recovered from.

And then I just couldn’t bring myself to switch into Ironman mode. I couldn’t split my sleep schedule in two for three days a week, even though I was now working saner hours and regular weekends. I couldn’t wake up at 3:30 a.m. to run. I skipped the extra swimming sessions I promised myself I’d do. I didn’t feel that drive, that motivation, that hunger. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but I was burnt out.

It’s a weird thing to admit to myself even now. In theory, I still love triathlons. The community is wonderful and they’re a huge part of my identity. Race days still excite me. But just like injuries in endurance sports, burnout builds up over time and with repetition. I just couldn’t do the grind anymore.

And the burnout wasn’t just athletic. Life was getting in the way too - there was massive anxiety over my job, which turned out to have a good cause. In April the company I work for laid off almost half its staff and offered the rest of us contracts that were tough to swallow - and then gave us three days to decide on them.

Going through the buildup to the contract decision day made me realize something else: I don’t really have a support system left in Abu Dhabi. It’s a consequence of expat churn in a country of 89% expats, and the social instability that comes with it. One of the major challenges of the place is rebuilding your friend group every six months or so when your friends move to new countries or emirates, or just cycle out of your social circle in general. All the people I was talking with about the career anxiety were already overseas or expecting to leave the UAE this year anyway.

The other source of emotional burnout was the relationship side of my life. Without going into too many whiny details, there were three women who came into my life, sequentially within a few short months who independently made me think that finally, I had found someone I really liked who would turn into the kind of relationship I’d been hoping for. After nearly three years of being single and mostly dateless. And so I invested a lot of time and energy into each one, only to have things fall apart with them for reasons beyond my control. One had mental health issues and took herself out of the dating pool entirely, one had physical health problems and too busy a schedule, and one just went from full-throttle to ghost in the span of a week.

One massive disappointment like that I can handle and recover from. But three in a row hit, plus the existential anxiety about my job me hard and sent me to a bad place for a while. That was at the end of my usual UAE racing season, and by that time my training was so bad that I had downgraded my hopes for the post-season race to a half-Ironman a month later than the Iron would have been, and then just nothing at all. I don’t want to use the word depression, because it hasn’t been diagnosed by a doctor, but it was hard for me to get out of bed in the morning and I just shut down for a little while. My nutrition lapsed and I lost too much weight, which for me makes for a downward spiral. My boss even pulled me aside and told me he was concerned about my performance at work.

The expat life ain’t all sunshine and roses, despite what my Facebook feed makes it look like.

I managed to pull myself out of that spiral with a vacation and a visit from my parents. Nothing makes you get out of bed and scramble to get your life looking like it’s together like the fear of disappointing your mother. After they left I realized I had to do something to keep myself from sinking back into that same rut.

It started with the nutrition. I started planning a week of meals at a time and prepping them on the weekends. I know how losing weight from poor nutrition affects the rest of my life, so that was the clearest first step to get out of this funk.

And then April came with the contracts. I was offered one but found it unpalatable. It took me literally until the final hour to decide whether to take it, though, because it’s been four and a half years since I came here and being an expat in Abu Dhabi has become part of my identity. I went through a lot of soul searching, which could be the subject of another long post, and had a few serious what-if discussions. But in the end, I realized that the terms of the new contract would just exacerbate the problems that led to the rut I’ve found myself in these past few months, and cut off the ways I’ve been able to cope with them.

So I turned it down. My contract expires June 30. And since UAE residence visas are tied to employment, I’ll most likely be leaving the country and probably heading back to the US.

There’s one other major thing that happened as part of the contract decision. (Warning: more relationship complaints ahead.) There’s a girl back in my hometown who is everything I want in a girl. I’d been harboring a massive crush on her for years - by far bigger than anything else I’ve felt since the last breakup - but never made a move because I lived overseas and she either had a long-term boyfriend (complete with a joint mortgage and two dogs) or had broken up with the boyfriend and was still reeling. Still, we talk almost every day, spent all the free time we could together when I visit home and I’d seen some encouraging signs from her. Hell, when my parents came to visit she got up at 5 a.m. to buy a box of fresh donuts and drop them off with my parents so they could bring them to me on the plane. And it would have been more than a year since they had broken up by the time I got back to the US in August if I turned the contract down. Plus, the Tampa-St. Pete area where she lives is one of the places I’d like to find a job in.

I didn’t hang my decision on what she said, but I’d be lying to myself if I said it wasn’t a factor I had to consider. So I asked her what she thought. Unfortunately through text and not voice - I tried, but she literally fell asleep on me as I was about to bring the topic up. Snored and everything. I asked her if she would want to give dating me a shot this summer if I were to turn down the contract.

And she said no. She wasn’t attracted to me, she never had been and those donuts were something she’d do for any friend. And I was such a close friend to her that she didn’t want to risk messing up the friendship.

It hurt. God, did it hurt.

And it led to more soul-searching. I’ve always struggled with being the guy that girls love to keep around as a friend, that gets told that any girl would be lucky to have him, but never gets seen as an actual relationship prospect. Meeting people through Tinder or other dating apps helps with that, as it frames me as a romantic prospect in the girl’s mind from the get-go, but even after a few dates I usually ultimately get the same speech: “You seem like a great guy and I want to keep you as a friend, but I’m not attracted to you that way.”

This is not Nice Guy whining. The problem is not with the girls and their attitudes towards me. The problem is me, and whatever it is that doesn’t get them to see as boyfriend material.

To be brutally honest, I think one of the main factors in that predicament is looks. Something I’ve also struggled with for a long time. I don’t remember the last time I got complimented on the way I look, but I know it’s been years. Years. And there aren’t a lot of simple ways I can improve them anymore. I dress in clean, styled, well-tailored clothes. I have a haircut that I’m finally happy with and I keep current with my grooming. I even had Lasik, which got rid of the glasses and the tired eyes from contacts. Effort has certainly been made. And I don’t consider myself ugly - just not attractive.

But I’m still skinny, as is pointed out to me so many times per week. That’s what happens when most of the calories you consume are burnt up in long-distance endurance training and racing. And it’s been brought up as a factor in dating rejections. “I could never date a guy who weighs less than I do” is something I’ve heard a few times. The one that echoes, though, is from a fellow triathlete: “You don’t look athletic enough for me to be attracted to you. Now tell me how your Ironman went.”

The thing is, in long-distance running and cycling skinny means fast. It’s all about the power-to-weight ratio, and though I may not have much power I have even less weight, which makes me sleek and speedy, especially in the hot, flat places I race. That’s what I’ve tuned my body for over the past decade. God, it’ll be 11 years this weekend since I started riding seriously. And I’ve been skinny my entire life before that. Sure, I have leg muscles from all the cycling and running, but that doesn’t count for much.

And yeah, it’s shallow. But I’m in my 20s, where dating and relationships are still heavily influenced by looks and shallow aspects and everything else you notice on first and second impressions. I really do think that the combination of unassuming looks, introversion, aversion to drugs/alcohol and genial personality tip the balance toward the benign “he could be a great, caring friend” side of the scale as opposed to the “he could be a hot, loving boyfriend” side. But what would that scale look like if my looks went from unassuming to “wow, he’s hot.”

So let’s review where I’m at right now:

Dissatisfied with life. Possibly mildly depressed.

Burnt out from endurance training but still love the sport.

At a transition stage in life for the next six months. Belongings like sports equipment and clothing will be discarded or packed, and housing may change a few times.

Likely moving to an area where racing happens in the summer, not the winter like it does here.

Which means an awkward summer and fall where my normal endurance training is at a trough and everyone else is at their peak.

Likely moving to a new area, which means a whole different set of friends and potential dates.

Nutrition is actively managed with weekly prep sessions.

Solution to one of the main stressors likely involves changing myself physically, in a way I haven’t been able to because of endurance training.

Need a change.

Take all these factors together, stir them up and bake them for a few weeks of overthinking while on vacation and you get this:

Time to hit the gym.

For the past month I’ve been going down to my apartment’s gym three times a week and following the Starting Strength full-body routine. I haven’t ridden a bike or run or swam since February, apart from one crazy mountain bike race I did in Poland a few weeks ago. I’ve taught myself the basic lifts using Youtube and taking advice from a few friends who know about these things, and apart from that I’ve told almost nobody. I don’t intend to talk about it on Facebook either. I want to see who notices when I start to gain.

Because make no mistake, upper-body hypertrophy is the main goal here. There will be other benefits that hopefully will help in the long run, but first and foremost I want my shirts to not fit anymore. I want to stop poking extra holes in my watch bands. I want to catch people checking me out in the grocery store. I want to feel confident taking my shirt off at the beach or pool. I want to smile at myself in the half-length mirror in the morning.

I want people to think I’m hot. I want people to tell me I’m hot. I want to think I’m hot.

This doesn’t mean I’m taking up competitive bodybuilding or lifting. The long-term goal is still endurance sports. This move from cardio to the gym will last until winter, when it’ll be time for base miles and the start of the next (northern hemisphere) racing season. The goal is to be at the right weight and muscle mass by then, and then I’d focus on maintaining the gains while rebuilding endurance.

The gym should help in a few other ways. Having a stronger upper body will mean a much stronger swim, which has always been my weakest event. The core strength I’m looking to develop should help on longer bikes and runs. And I’m still working out my legs (even adding rotations on the leg machines, because my upper body can’t bear enough squatting weight to tire out my leg muscles yet), so the added strength there should help with technique stabilization and injury prevention.

This does mean I’ll lose cardio endurance, so I think realistically I’ll have to take a year or so to build up to half-Iron strength again, and two years to Iron strength. But my body knows what it’s like to have that much endurance already, and regaining is always easier than gaining for the first time.

Nutrition-wise, I’m ramping up the calories and shifting from a carb-based goal to a protein-based goal. I still have to drink my weight-gainer protein shake after I finish typing this up. My weight still fluctuates and I’m not always perfect in following my nutrition plan, but I’ve still weighed more this month than I ever have before. From age 16 until March my weight stayed mostly between 127 and 133 pounds, sometimes getting as high as 136. This month I hit 139 - so, so, close to the 140 mark. It’s down to 136.5 again now, but I hope to hit 140 on at least one day next month.

The gym focus also means I’ll be able to train consistently even as I move homes and do God-knows-what with my bikes and equipment. It’ll be good to have that kind of stability, even if I have to switch to bodyweight exercises for a bit.

It’s also refreshing to go back to the novice level. I’ve never gone consistently to the gym before, so I’ve had to teach myself everything. I had to figure out what my weight limits were, what exercises to do, what program to follow and even how to work some of the machines. I haven’t had to learn anything new in triathlon for years, by comparison. And I’m already making small gains.

I went to a triathlon team meeting for the first time in a while this weekend and opened up about the gym focus (though now all the reasons behind it). They were supportive and a few said I looked a little bigger - though that may have just been my clothing choice that day.

I’ll likely be leaving the UAE for good in July or August. It’s the middle of May now, which gives me about two months to gain enough to make an impression on those who last saw me in December. And six months until November kicks off the training season for 2018. This is new territory for me, so I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to grow by then.

But I know that I will be growing. I’ll be moving forward towards my goals.

And for endurance sports as well as life, momentum is a good thing.

(If you came here through Facebook, please don’t mention the relationship, job loss, country switching or gym focus on the comments about the post. I’m not keeping it a total secret, but I don’t want to broadcast it to the public yet.)

[citizenscreen]

I’m sure you know by now that Buster Keaton started his movie career a century ago, in New York City in 1917. There have been – and probably will be – several projects commemorating this special anniversary given Keaton is one of the greatest talents to ever appear on screen. I want to give a shout out to one of those celebrations, The Third Annual Buster Keaton Blogathon hosted by Silent-Ology a few weeks ago. You’ll find terrific entries on all things Buster there so be sure to visit. I had all intentions of submitting this entry to that event, but life interfered.

When I learned about the Silent-Ology Buster Keaton celebration I decided to watch three of Buster’s short subjects, rather than a feature because I watch the shorts less often. I mean…not that I go around watching his shorts. Um…anyway, of all the possible entries to choose from – and Keaton made a lot of shorts – I went with two I’ve enjoyed immensely in the past and one I’d never seen in hopes of encouraging all of you to give them a look. So here goes…three cheers for our Buster!

  The Cook (1918) – Roscoe Arbuckle, director

The first cheer goes to The Cook, the last film starring Buster Keaton released in 1918, his second year in movies. This is one of the many shorts Keaton made with friend and mentor, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle who’d began his own career in 1909. Arbuckle was the first star in America to systematically direct his own films from 1914 forward and in 1920 became the first actor to be paid $1 million a year with a contract he signed with Paramount Pictures. Needless to say, Roscoe played a big role in helping Keaton fully develop his own genius, a talent yet unequaled. Arbuckle was no slouch in the funny department, however, and it’s important people know that given the notoriety he is (sadly) best remembered for today.

In The Cook Roscoe Arbuckle plays the title character, a short order cook to Buster Keaton’s assistant chef/head waiter. Arbuckle directed, wrote and stars in this gem of a short, which was thought lost for decades until its discovery in 1998. Also in The Cook are Al St. John, Alice Lake, Glen Cavender and Luke the Dog.

Arbuckle, Luke the Dog and Keaton in THE COOK

The premise of The Cook entails little more than I’ve already mentioned, but as far as a vehicle to spotlight the physical prowess of both Arbuckle and Keaton it’s tops. The two exhibit extraordinary juggling abilities as they maneuver the orders in the kitchen. Some of the magic comes by way of perfectly orchestrated camera trickery, but it’s supremely entertaining fare.

As the story progresses, the cook and the waiter are merrily doing their jobs with dancers’ precision when things start going awry. Distracted by the music the band’s playing all hell breaks loose as the cook and the waiter join in the festivities with full-blown dance routines that result in havoc throughout the restaurant.

There is a lot to enjoy in Arbuckle’s kitchen. I am particularly partial to a running gag where the same hot liquid serves as coffee, soup and dressing for all manner of dishes. Arbuckle also manages to pull all sorts of different food from the same vat. Buster in turn is enjoyable as a ladies man in several instances although his efforts are hilariously catastrophic. In other words, if you want 20 minutes of silent fun delivered by two masters you can’t go wrong with The Cook.

  One Week (1920) – Edward F. Cline and Buster Keaton, directors

The second cheer goes to 19 minutes of unadulterated fun, rather than 20. One Week is one of my favorite Buster Keaton shorts, his first effort after his work with Arbuckle concluded. This movie is testament to Buster’s extraordinary physical talent and the sweetness that accompanied it. Keaton co-wrote and co-directed One Week with Edward F. Cline, but it’s Buster’s brand of charm that you get from start to finish.

The premise of One Week is simple. A newly married couple is given a vacant lot and a house as wedding gifts from the groom’s uncle. The problem is that the house has to be built from scratch, by the numbers, if you will. It’s sort of like Ikea furniture would have been in 1920. Buster, who plays The Groom (Buster), is sure he’ll have no problem putting the pieces together given the straight forward directions available in the box. Except…that the jilted ex-boyfriend of The Bride (Sybil Seely) re-labels the pieces to get back at the couple for marrying. The outcome is pure silent bliss.

I had the good fortune of watching One Week at Grauman’s Chinese Theater as part of the last night’s program when I attended my first Turner Classic Movie Film Festival in 2013. One Week was followed by Buster’s The General and I couldn’t tell you which I enjoyed more. Although the short doesn’t have the powerhouse, signature Buster Keaton physical attributes the longer movie exhibits, the special effects are charming and quite impressive with plenty of pratfalls to go around. I call them “special effects,” but they’re really stunts, which were done with a full-house and sets, not miniatures as one would think. The precision it took to make a few of these stunts come off without a hitch is astounding to think about.

One Week is the one I usually recommend to people who have not seen a Buster Keaton movie before because it has heartwarming qualities as well as his special brand of comedy. The simplicity of the plot lets Buster newbies enjoy the magic while Keaton aficionados stare in wonder at the details that surface during repeated viewings. My mother laughed heartily when The Groom bolts his car to the house in hopes of pulling it over the train tracks and again when she saw a hand come over the camera when The Bride is bathing.

At least a few accolades for One Week must go to Sybil Seely who at 18 years of age (when she made the film) is a perfect match for our star. Seely starred in 18 movies in her short, 5-year career several of which she made with Buster. It’s really too bad she made so few films because hers was a substantial talent as well. Seely retired from films in 1922 after marrying and died in 1984 at the age of 84.

  The Playhouse (1921) – Edward F. Cline and Buster Keaton, directors

I chose to include The Playhouse in this post because I’d never seen it, but it turned out to be the loudest cheer I have to offer. Well, in the sense that I think it’s an astounding piece of filmmaking. In this vehicle Keaton plays multiple Keatons in a series of sketches in a playhouse. While The Playhouse falls short in the traditional, acrobatic Keaton stunts we know and love, there is a lot here that’s new as far as gags go. The concept of The Playhouse came about after Buster busted his ankle during the filming of another short. Worried about not missing his monthly release schedule, Keaton conceived of this movie in which the laughs come by several other means other than pratfalls. The result is as innovative a movie as I’ve ever seen.

Several Keatons can be seen on camera at once thanks to nifty trick photography. While this is perhaps a fairly routine gimmick, the fact that it is done so seamlessly in 1921 is a great accomplishment. Buster also plays a variety of characters in The Playhouse. He is every member of the orchestra, several members of the audience of all genders and ages, he is a monkey, the leading act and the stagehand to name a few. The Playhouse is essentially separated into two distinct stories after we find out the first half is but a dream. In short, this is a terrific vehicle for all to be reminded that Buster had quite the vast acting talent, which is often overlooked.

With the completion of The Playhouse Buster Keaton fulfilled his original 8-picture contract with Joseph Schenck. The movie was such a hit that he was immediately signed for another dozen movies.

Before I go, a little side note – My mother stayed with me for a month during which time we watched several silent movies together. Silents are perfect for people of all languages for obvious reasons and my mom enjoys them immensely. As you may know she doesn’t speak English and these vehicles allow me more time to actually watch the movies with less translating interruptions. In any case, my mom’s a big Charlie Chaplin fan having seen many of his movies in her youth in Cuba. I was quite surprised to learn, however, that she was not familiar with either Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd. She’d never even heard of them. I find that so interesting. And sad. You can bet I’ll be doing a little research to find out why Keaton and Lloyd movies may not have made it to her small home town. If you know anything about the travels of Keaton and Lloyd movies versus the travels of Chaplin outings leave me a comment below. Thanks!

Three Cheers for Buster Keaton I'm sure you know by now that Buster Keaton started his movie career a century ago, in New York City in 1917.