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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

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In a recent malarklina post you mentioned having many headcanons 👀 Care to share with the class?

So I went over some character hcs for the three of them in this post! But here are a few that are specifically Malarklina. (Some of these are set in an Immortal!Mal AU and some aren't, sorry if it gets a bit confusing).

Aleksander has a competency kink and is attracted to Alina showing off her sun powers and Mal showing off his tracking abilities.

Alina makes them both little suns that follow them around to always light their path. This is especially meaningful to Aleksander, although he'd never admit it, because he used to be afraid of the dark as a child.

Mal reminds Aleksander of Luda, and he often goes into depressive states when considering the fact of Mal's mortality. Once Alina fully grasps the reality of the situation, she often suffers from them as well. During these times, Mal tries to be there for them as much as he can, but it's a heavy burden to bear alone.

They all have difficult relationships with gender and sexuality and at one point actually end up sitting down (completely by accident, because Aleksander is allergic to emotions) to talk about this aspect of their lives in more depth.

Aleksander usually sleeps in the middle because he's a) touch-starved and b) an attention whore, but they switch it up on occasion.

Mal is the most clingy sleeper in the history of sleepers. Aleksander and Alina have both woken up on more than one occasion to Mal literally laying fully on top of them and wrapped around them like an octopus. Aleksander likes the weight and usually just snuggles in deeper but Alina has to wiggle out of the way most of the time so she can breathe.

Mal likes Aleksander with short hair but Alina likes him with long hair. This is the source of many fights in their relationship, none of which Aleksander is actually apart of.

Alina and Aleksander both like Mal with longer hair and so he's press ganged into growing it out.

Mal and Alina love every single song Aleksander hates.

When Mal pisses Aleksander off it's no sex for a day even after a dozen apologies, but when Alina pisses him off all she has to do is say sorry and he'll just eat her out right then, not a care in the world.

Aleksander is very physically affectionate, but Mal and Alina have phases of liking it and disliking it, so they have to balance a way to take care of each other's needs without pushing boundaries.

Aleksander is directionally challenged because I said so and Mal and Alina constantly have to make sure he doesn't get lost.

Kissing scars has become a very intimate practice between them all.

Aleksander keeps an obsessively clean house but Alina's paint supplies get everywhere, that paired with Mal just shucking off his hunting outfits anywhere in the house and dumping his gardening/hunting supplies wherever's most convenient means that Aleksander is in a constant state of annoyance about their living situation.

Alina makes a Rule about Mal and Aleksander fighting after Mal straight up tackles Aleksander off the side of the roof when they're trying to figure out how to replace shillings.

They all spar with each other at least once every other day. This mostly started as a means of keeping themselves sharp in case of danger, but it quickly became a bonding routine of sorts. Turns out Aleksander has a lot of information stored up about fighting. That paired with Mal's military training makes for some very intense spars as well as the rapid growth of all three of them into some of the most dangerous fighters on the planet.

@mal-zoya now has me convinced that it will take at least 500 years for Mal and Aleksander to admit they love each other.

Aleksander likes it when they wear his clothes. Alina likes wearing Mal and Aleksander's clothes. There is a lot of clothing sharing going on. It gets to the point where the only way they can tell who's clothing is who's is based on color scheme and the quality of the cloth and occasionally (but not always) the size as well.

Mal and Alina infodump all the time about their passions and Aleksander eats it up. He loves it. He thinks his partners are the smartest people in the universe.

When Alina is suffering from artist's block she goes to Aleksander for inspiration. When she's inspired she goes to Mal to create.

Mal is generally the one who cooks all of their meals because Alina will get distracted when she's going on an art spree and Aleksander will just straight up forget he's a human sometimes. But when Mal doesn't do it Aleksander does it because he has Standards and he's not about to let his partners starve to death, thank you very much.

Aleksander and Mal used to cook plainer foods in the beginning of the relationship but they both slowly shake off some of the chains of their upbringings and previous ways of life to slowly try out more elaborate and lush recipes. Alina has come home on more than one occasion to see them collaborating on a new recipe Aleksander managed to flirt/finagle out of one of the old ladies from the nearby village.

Alina likes to ride out every day and sometimes ropes Aleksander or Mal into going with her. There are lots of picnics and packed lunches in their life. When they go to an especially scenic spot, she'll sit there for hours and draw.

Mal won't ever be able to fully understand the meaning of Alina's immortality. It would be impossible to, even with many explanations and having to deal with Aleksander's own traumas as a result. But that doesn't stop him from attempting to learn as much as he can to make things easier for both of his partners.

Alina attempts to join the local ladies' knitting group in the nearby village but hates it. Aleksander, on the other hand, finds it to be the most valuable source of gossip in the village. He rapidly becomes a part of the club and returns home with boatloads of gossip by the day. Alina and Mal have no idea what to do with literally any of this information, but Aleksander certainly does. Getting involved in small town drama is, in his opinion, one of the best things he ever decided to do. Mal and Alina are beginning to think he needs some therapy.

Mal starts a little farm outside of their cottage and Alina starts a flower garden. Alina also begins to amass a small library over time, with the help of Aleksander "is this an original text?! maybe so" Morozova. Mal is not expecting to come home one day to an entirely new room built into the house and a massive collection of books lining the walls.

Alina and Aleksander will use their powers actively all day. In fact, they both get so comfortable with summoning that they just start letting their emotions affect their summoning all the time. And so Mal has a very good indicator for whether or not his partners are upset or happy based on the way the shadows and lights flicker, much akin to the way people judge how their cats are feeling based on what their tails are doing.

Also, though, Mal just feels proud that they both trust him enough and feel comfortable enough around him and in their home to feel as if they don't need to watch themselves constantly.

Alina still likes mapmaking and, after a few years of peace where she starts to get restless, she slowly begins to do it again. Every two months or so she'll go out on a long trip to map a few of the nearby areas. She quickly builds up a side business of selling her personal maps to the people of whatever town they're living near.

Aleksander eventually opens up enough to share some of his past with Alina and Mal. He especially begins to engage more with the pieces of his culture that he had to forsake in order to assimilate over the years. Alina and Mal are always more than willing to help him puzzle through a half remembered recipe or a phrase in his native tongue that he's partially forgotten. They feel honored every time he shares a small piece of his history with them.

Nightmares are a common occurrence between all of them and whenever one happens a cuddle pile of epic proportions ensues. Also sometimes they talk about feelings have some pillow talk to work through things. Aleksander will also sometimes sing them back to sleep. His lullabies are haunting, but his singing voice is beautiful, and it usually does the trick. He refuses to sing for them outside of these moments, however.

Alina adores the height difference between her and her very tall partners. She thinks its fucking stellar.

Alina and Mal start up an orphanage on many occasions throughout the centuries. Alina loves kids and constantly helps them when she can. She mourns the fact that she won't ever be able to adopt without having to watch them grow old without her.

They've all discussed having kids at multiple points throughout their lives, and they all want to do so. But Aleksander wants to wait until Grisha persecution is no longer even the hint of an issue. Alina and Mal agree to wait, largely because they want some time to think on it too.

Mal tries to teach Alina how to shoot one day and she accidentally clips Aleksander as he's coming outside with lunch. He never lets her live it down and on more than one occasion attempts to use it for sympathy points, even hundreds of years later.

Aleksander is both the big spoon and the little spoon, but he likes being the big spoon (in reality he's a knife, of course). Mal likes being the little spoon but is often relegated to the big spoon, and Alina likes being both.

Alina paints a portrait of Mal and Aleksander cuddled up in bed once and no matter how much they entreat her to burn it she absolutely refuses to do so.

Aleksander is basically a walking, talking source of illegal activity, and he can't be taken anywhere anymore without expecting some sort of crime to take place.

Alina tries to adopt a little black cat one day and Aleksander gets outrageously jealous. He spends about two months being bitter, then another two months trying to chase it off, but the creature stays with them all until it dies of old age (and he'll never admit to privately grieving it's loss, although Mal and Alina both know it).

All of their communication skills are absolutely atrocious but Alina is the best. Mal is the second best. Aleksander doesn't even rank. Over time, they get into the habit of it, though. They practice at it painfully for years until they reach the point where healthy communication becomes second nature.

Mal proposes to Alina one day (after much talk between all three of them) and they get married. A couple years later they both propose to Aleksander (after zero talk, he is suitably surprised and also maybe a bit teary eyed). They have an illegal wedding on holy ground at midnight with a bribed and essentially kidnapped pastor.

Aleksander spends an excessive amount of money on Alina and Mal. He buys them things constantly and lavishes them with gifts. Alina loves it but it grates on Mal for a time until he realizes it isn't a means of manipulation as much as a love language and a shoddy attempt at communication and expressing feelings.

Once they reach the modern world (in an Immortal!Mal AU), they all get phones and send each other the most cursed texts in all of history. The group chat is a hellspace and the individual chats are just pure shittalking. Nowhere is free.

Shopping in the modern world consists of chaotic impulse buys and the excessive waste of money. They're all each other's impulse control, but they can't always go out together at the same time, so it's usually only in groups of two. Which means that when Alina's gone, Aleksander fills the cart with sweets. And when Mal is gone, Alina fills the cart with an inordinate amount of bananas (which are new) and microwavable easy to eat meals and paint supplies and oh! look at these pretty notebooks on display!. And when Aleksander is gone the cart its legitimately just a free for all. He comes home and there's mincemeat and apple pies cooking for some reason. Mal has a new apron. The fire alarm has been replaced. Turns out they stopped at an ikea on the way back and now they have a better dining table.

Alina is the best driver of them all. Aleksander goes way too fast but he never crashes. Mal refuses to even step foot in a car for about half a decade.

Aleksander is actually the one that gets into makeup. He quite enjoys it and thinks maybe his partners need to live a little for once. They both very firmly disagree.

Alina loses the tv remote constantly and it drives Mal absolutely wild. Sometimes Aleksander will steal it just to watch Mal go into a frenzy looking for it.

Alina builds up a large following for her art (and the art of her 'ancestors') over the centuries. Modern day Alina is basically famous, but luckily nobody knows her face.

#okay this got too long i had to stop alsjdflkjds #i got very carried away im so sorry #some of these are just plain aus but I Do Not Care #asks and answers #anon #malarklina #mymetas #shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #malyen oretsev #darklina #malina #myramblings #alina x darkling x mal #myhcs

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sweeethinny · 3 years

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The Duke - Chapter 10

A.N: OK, let's go Thank you very much to the comments, really, I know it takes time, but I'm glad you're here always waiting for a new chapter for your understanding: everything in *ITALIC* is flashback, it's a chapter basically made up of that, it explains some things it was the chapter i waited the longest to arrive, i liked it in the end, i hope you did too <3 AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

It was a cold night, it had rained that afternoon and the sky was cloudy, it looked like it would rain later in the morning, but Arabella was happy about that, as the damp, muggy weather made her sneeze every minute and her asthma was actually getting worse. She should visit a doctor soon. She continued to walk down the empty street, the hem of her dress was getting more and more muddy, no matter how much she pulled her skirt up a little, every time she stepped into a puddle the mud splashed and it was no use effort in trying to get that dress clean. She should have picked an older one to go out with, since she knew the streets would be dreadful after all that rain, not the brand new one she'd bought after working so hard. Was it just a piece of sewn fabric, why was it so expensive? There weren't even enough details or buttons to justify it. But if Isabel was telling the truth, the fabric had come from India, and that in itself had already increased the price twice as much, and Arabella knew that the woman would not lie to her… She hoped at least. As she walked the streets of Godric's Hollow, she thought about how another lonely night would be, and that maybe tomorrow she would send a letter to her great-aunt asking if she could stay a few days at her farm, just to have the company of other people besides the two her cats; Silk and Melindra. “Help!” The scream echoed behind her, and Arabella turned, startled, to see if anyone was hurt or what might have triggered that scream. It was a female scream, and it made her think that maybe a woman could be chased by some maniac, and even though she wasn't very strong, two women fought better than just one, so she ran towards the scream, not caring more about the mud splashing on her dress. Near Ms. Bright’s shop, there was a woman lying down and bleeding, her clothes torn and a baby in her lap. She looked scared, dumped near a ditch that had been made a few days ago to start building a fashion studio around the corner, the scant dress that still covered her was smeared with what looked like blood and mud, and Arabella thought she saw blood running down her legs. Whether it was an injury or something more disturbing, she couldn't tell. The woman held the baby tightly to her chest, wrapped in an old blanket as dirty as she was, and the poor child spared no effort in crying, looking more than scared. “I'm here, what happened?” Arabella ran to her, helping the poor girl to her seat, noticing that the poor baby was also smeared with blood, but she couldn't tell whose blood it was. ‘Come, come to my house, I can help you-’ "No," she cried, brown eyes startled and wide, as if they'd seen death a few feet away. “Someone is following me, I – I'm going to be killed, I know I will, my husband is after me and – you need to get the boy.” She lifted the baby towards Arabella. 'He's trying to kill us, he thinks the child isn't his, he thinks I cheated on him, and he's coming, I-' The woman stopped, as if she'd heard something, but then thunder made the Earth shudder. ‘Please save the boy, I beg you, he already tried to kill the boy but I was always on time, but now I feel like I won't be able to save him.’ “You must come with me.” Arabella pleaded once more, kneeling in front of the woman, trying to get her to rise. When she reached for her forearm, however, her hand was wet with blood, and the tear in the side of her dress let her see a hideous cut in her ribs, the blood running like water in a waterfall, dripping onto the floor and other parts of her dress. "I told you," she muttered, sobbing. 'I'm going to die, I'm not going to make it, I can't stand walking any longer, I managed to run away from him but I can't stand it much longer… Take the boy.' The woman lifted the boy again, who now seemed to cry even more, waking a few neighborhood dogs, as the sky glowed brighter, the earth trembling a few seconds later. "Take him away, don't let him die." 'How-how am I going to leave you here, I can't-' Another thunder shook the earth, and this time, the storm began to fall stronger

than the afternoon, the winds suddenly getting strong, which seemed to scare the boy even more. ‘He will get sick! Get him, take care of him!” As if on instinct, Arabella scooped him up in her arms, wrapping him in her scarf so he was a little warmer. Footsteps were heard nearby, and the woman seemed to despair even more. 'Go! Get Harry and go!’ “What's his name?” Arabella yelled over the noise of the rain, trying to understand what she had said. ‘Henry! His name is Henry!’ ---------------------- “Poor Duchess,” someone says, but all Arabella can see is the white flag atop the castle, an immense sadness shattering her chest into a million pieces. "Who could do something that horrible?" Another says, all paying attention to the newspaper that reports how Harry Potter, the Duke's eldest son, was found dead near a creek not far away. Probably killed by Death Eaters. “They're all nasty human beings!” A man said, looking horrified by the media descriptions, then looking up at the castle again. It's not that far away, it faces the mountains that end Godric's Hollow, separating them from another village, and it's positioned in a way that's seen from anywhere, no matter where you are, you'll see the castle and the huge towers, next to the flags that stand proudly on the masts. One with the English flag, the other with the Potter family crest. But today, both give way to white flags. The boy is dead. Arabella wipes the tears from her eyes and watches little Henry sleep in her arms, oblivious to the commotion. She sympathizes with the Duchess's pain as she looks at that little baby who nearly died along with her mother - Arabella knew that the woman's body was found lifeless the next morning - and remembers the time she too felt the pain of losing a child, of losing the one she loved most to Death Eaters. She kisses the boy's forehead, the pale scar of lightning makes him unique, and Arabella lets herself cry, thinking of the Duchess herself, and how they took away her right to fondle her own son. ---------------------- Arabella did not remember seeing the Duke in public since the incident two years ago. He smiles and nods, but she notices - because she's been there once too - that he's sick, that the gold-and-red scarf around his neck seems to have a lot of fabric left over, as well as his pants. She notices the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks, but the man still smiles and waves at people. Henry was on her lap, yesterday he turned two, and Arabella doesn't know very well when he was born, but her neighbor, who is a doctor, said he wasn't much older than four or five months, so she decided that his birthday would be the day before they met, because she thought it was too tragic to celebrate the day she found him in his mother's lap half dead, but she didn't want to stray too far from the date. The Duke smiles and nods to a little girl on his father's shoulders, he is walking through the village as he usually does, something that brings him closer to the people who live there and keeps him in power. He's a good man, after his father, the best they've ever had for sure. He stops when he gets close to Arabella, and she smiles because she used to paint the portraits of the royal family until she had a problem with her fist and was forced to quit her profession, but the man never seems to forget the time she drew him on his 17th birthday. "I'm still waiting for you to draw me and my wife." He says, as he always has since she informed him that she had unfortunately been forced to stop. The man isn't charging her though, he smiles, and watches Henry in her lap, almost sleeping on her shoulder. “It's a beautiful boy.” She thought she saw a shadow in his eyes, but it was so fast she thought it was just her imagination. 'How old is he?' "Two years," she says, and now she's sure the man looks sick, because for a second he stops and stares at Henry, as if wondering what his two-year-old son would be like. Arabella knows because she used to do this. "My condolences, my Lord." "It's okay, I’m fine," the

man says, and he winks at Henry, who hides in his mother's neck, before going off to talk to another woman. ---------------------- “Why are we different?” Henry asks, sitting on the table as Arabella tends to his scraped knee. 'We don't have the same eye color, and my hair doesn't match yours.' She knows he doesn't mean to be mean, he's just a curious and very intelligent child, that he's noticed the dissimilarities between them. She smiles, applying ointment to the wound. ‘Because you are my son at heart, and children at heart are sometimes not like their mothers at heart.’ 'What is a child at heart?' He agrees to be picked up by her, and Arabella leads them into their small living room, sitting on the sofa with Henry on her lap, looking at her with big green eyes gleaming with curiosity, black strands falling over his eyelashes. She needs to cut his hair soon. “It means that you were born from another belly, not mine.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But that's just what separates us, because my love for you surpasses any barrier.” Arabella smiles, kissing his cheek, and Henry seems satisfied with the explanation. 'I love you so much too, this size here!' He opens his arms as much as he can, and the demonstration warms her heart as always, making her smile and hug her son as tightly as she assures him that she loves him even more. | J. P | James was concentrating on the duels when Remus arrived. He was marveling at how well Mr. Figg dueled, neither shivering nor losing time when Mr. Rosier hit back one of his spells, and the man didn't even look tired. He had always found dueling an incredibly boring and dull part of parties when he was younger, accompanied by his father and seeing the men fall in a few minutes, James preferred the parties and the after, when the house was silent and dark and he could go out to meet some woman. It was at one of these parties that he met Lily, during a nighttime getaway he saw her jumping out the window. First he followed her thinking that she was also going to meet someone, and James being a curious young man that he was, he wondered what kind of man that woman liked to sneak with. Maybe he had a chance. But later, when he saw her come out of the house and run towards the lake nearby, James didn't understand. She didn't like him following her, of course, it had been a dumb idea and nowadays he was ashamed of his younger self's actions, but that's what got them talking for the first time. She smiled in embarrassment as he praised her ability to climb a vine. "James!" Remus called after him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes pained toward him. The first thing that came to his mind was that Lily was hurt, and that made him lose all interest in watching the Duel and made him turn to his friend in alarm. “What happened?” He tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to keep other men from noticing his splurge. Sirius did a good job of distracting two young men. "Lily needs you…and she asked me to take Mr. Figg too." Remus muttered the last part, making James frown and look at the boy on his left, who had finally won the duel. Rosier looked tired. 'Is it urgent.' "Is she hurt?" It was a valid concern, James feared his wife would get sicker now that she was surrounded by people, and maybe someone had said something to her and Lily had one of her fits again. ‘And why does she want the boy? Should I tell Arthur? ‘No, don't say anything to anyone, just come… We're in the dungeons.’ ---------------------- Henry did not know how to control his magic, and that distressed Arabella. If he was a Muggle it would be so much easier, she knew that, because when Henry made that poor boy float, and then made a flower vase explode, she knew she would have to explain a lot to him: Why couldn't he go to a proper college and why she didn't do magic like he did. Arabella no longer felt ashamed of being a Squib, she had accepted the condition and lived normally, or at least as she managed to, avoiding whenever anyone asked about it just to avoid people's prejudice. Some thought she was a

Muggle who had married a wizard, and that's why she knew so much about it. Others thought that she just hadn't had a chance to go to school, and that's why she didn't know how to properly control magic. "They made fun of me!" Henry said, annoyed, his eyes red from crying. “They said things—horrible things to me!” He sobbed, which made Arabella even sadder and more worried. His green eyes glistened with tears, staring at her for answers. "They told me I-I'll never be good at-at anything." He sobbed louder and louder, the scraped knee now forgotten, as if the internal pain was much bigger. She was about to cry with him. “Henry, honey, listen to me.” She took a deep breath, thinking that conversation had come earlier than she'd planned. ‘What they said is a lie. They don't know how to control their magic either, they probably won't for a good few years, and you're already good at a lot of things, of course you are, Henry. You're much better at putting together puzzles, and you're much faster too, I mean, you always win at the races.' Arabella smiled sweetly, smoothing his messy hair, thinking how unfair it was that such a sweet little boy already got to know this side of life. She wished she could just show the good side of life, and leave the thorns and stones for when he understood things better. Arabella wondered how her mother managed to do this so masterfully, because right now, she wanted to be able to hex the parents of those boys and force them to teach their children more respect for others. She wished it had been her who had been pushed and thrown out of the game, not her child. Her heart broke even more, feeling helpless. ‘Don't listen to what they say, ok? You're amazing, a very smart kid, and your future will be bright.” She promised, because it was true. Arabella would do anything for her son. ---------------------- Henry ran as fast as he could, passing through the trees and not even bothering with the branches that scratched his skin, he just needed to get out of there. He knew he shouldn't have pissed off those boys, but they were scaring another younger boy, and just because they'd now gone to that stupid school of stupid people, they thought they were even better than the rest of the people there. Henry wished he could go to Hogwarts, but his mother had told him that you needed to receive a letter, and that they were only sent for a few families - maybe if you're lucky you get the letter, she said smiling, even though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Arabella had never said this, but Henry knew he would probably never get the letter; he wasn't rich and he didn't have a father, and for some reason, that seemed to be enough to keep him away from others. He ran even faster when he heard loud laughter, he wasn't afraid of those kids anymore, Henry had grown up while they were in school, more than they were, but they had one advantage: magic. Arabella couldn't buy a wand, so he didn't have one, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. “You're a wimpy coward if your only way to fight is with magic…don't you know how to punch?” Henry had said to Jilian, the biggest idiot of them all. Henry wasn't very good at punching, but he was very fast, while when Greg tried to cast a spell on him, he ran off into the forest, barely noticing when his own magic created a dome around him, preventing any spells from hitting him. . ---------------------- “Why are we so different?” Henry asked, taking a seat beside Arabella as she kneaded the bread on the table. She looked at him, noticing that the boy was all sweaty and looking a little smudged with dirt. “How many times have I told you not to go into the woods?” She returned her gaze to the dough, continuing to knead. "It's quieter there." He shrugged, pulling his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting his scar show for a few seconds before hiding it again. “And more dangerous too, and you know it.” Arabella raised her eyebrows, scolding him. She'd heard horrible stories of people meeting a werewolf deep in the woods, and as much as she didn't

know whether or not it was true, she didn't want Henry to take any chances like that. He was only 13 years old, he should have been playing with the other kids on the street and not running into the trees. "Okay, I won't do it anymore." He sighed, but she knew he would break that promise the next time he had the opportunity. ‘But then? Why aren't we alike?’ "Henry, because you were born from another belly. I already said that" She placed the buns in the oven, washing her hands afterwards and looking up at him with a gentle smile on her face. "I met you when you were very young, you know this story." "But why can I make things float and you can't?" His green eyes stared at her with an expression much harder and more serious than she was used to, as if he would know if she lied. ‘Because not all of us are born doing magic. Some of us are good at something other than magic… It's something you need to be born knowing how to do, you can't develop it, just improve it.” Arabella swallowed, trying not to show so much the scars that had left on her. People weren't kind when they found out you were a Squib. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at his hands as if he wanted to find the right words. The sun streaming through the kitchen windows illuminated his black hair, a few strands reflecting an almost red copper color that Arabella thought was beautiful. 'Can you never do magic?' He looked at her, and all the worry she'd ever felt, scared that maybe Henry would feel sorry for her or ashamed of her, drained and slipped out as his green eyes stared at her, full of affection and sadness. Not the same sadness that always came with grief, but as if he felt bad that he did magic and she didn't, as if he understood now why some people offended her and treated her differently. "No." She gave a half smile. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, I like who I am." And it was true. Henry nodded, still being silent for a while, seeming to absorb the information, then he got up from the wooden bench, walking over to her and hugging her. He was no longer her little boy—as much as he always would be her baby—Henry now almost reached her chest, and it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her. She hugged him back, enjoying this show of affection, imagining that a few years from now he wouldn't like hugs so much. "I love you," he said. ‘I love you very much too. Forever and ever.” Arabella kissed the top of his head, tightening her hold even more, as if she was afraid someone would suddenly take him away from her. ---------------------- It had been a long time since James had been in the dungeons, he didn't like going there, it was cold, wet, lonely, and it made him think too much. It made him think his son's things were there, in boxes organized as if they were just another mess and not everything he and Lily had ever dreamed of. It made him think of the pain that resided in his chest, the emptiness that nothing in the world had ever been able to fill. James hated the dungeons. Lily, unlike him, loved being there, she said it was the best place for her to think, and the calmest of all - 'It's where I feel that no one will look at me with pity, where I can think of my son in peace, you know what I'm talking about," she said when James questioned her about the surroundings. He knew, he understood her, James had changed into Prongs many more times than necessary, he did it every time the pain got too much to take. He walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, couldn't anyone make this place something less scary? After Remus left, James warned Sirius, who tried to pretend as best he could and further entertain the men who now looked curious to death, while he went to talk to Mr. Figg. "I need you to accompany me, but I need you to do this cautiously and discreetly," James asked, looking into those green eyes closely, trying to remember where he knew that expression. "I'll go ahead, meet me in five minutes at the entrance to the stone path, do you know where it is?" The man nodded, tucking

his wand into the waistband of his pants and straightening his robes. 'I'll let Arthur know I'll take you, just so he won't be worried, but I think you understand that you shouldn't say anything to anyone, right?' "Yes, my Lord." The man made a brief, discreet bow, and James grimaced, not understanding why that made him uncomfortable. Now James heard footsteps behind him as he walked through the dungeon, neither of them saying anything. Why had Lily asked Mr. Figg to come along? Had she found out something about the boy? Something bad? James glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing that the man looked warmed too, his hands behind him and his back straight. Has something happened to Miss Weasley? Well, if so, Arthur would be called too, right? James broke off as soon as he reached the last room, the one he avoided the most, and the only one with lighted candles. The first thing he saw when he entered were the boxes, stacked against a wall, then he realized there were some of Harry's things on the floor, smeared with dirt and sticks, and James' heart missed a beat when he saw the Snitch Pajamas The gold one he'd bought when he found out Lily was pregnant was now all filthy and torn. Had they been attacked? Was that why Lily sent for him? Then he saw Remus, opening Lily's herb cabinet and looking for something inside, he looked worried. In the back, near the only window there, was Peter, all smeared with mud too, sitting on the floor with his hands behind his back, his red cheeks making him look like a child caught doing something wrong, and his rumpled clothes hinting that he had fought someone. Finally, sitting on the bench was Lily. Her dress was dirty too, but that wasn't what James first noticed, it was her red face, her pink cheeks like when she drank wine, her hands shaking as she poured something into the cauldron, looking more nervous than ever. "What's going on?" James glanced at the three of them, feeling even more anxious. "Lily, what the fuck is going on?" "Did you bring Henry?" James frowned at her calling the man by his first name, but nodded anyway, Peter sighed in the corner, looking almost terrified, not making eye contact with James for a moment. ‘Great, send him in.’ ---------------------- Henry knew he shouldn't be there, his mother had forbidden him, but he had nowhere else to go. Jilian had come back from his stupid school and he seemed more than happy to train some spells on Henry, and even though he had honed his punching technique, he couldn't compete with magic. So he ran into the forest. It was cold there, it had rained last night and the earth had turned to mud, and because of the tall trees the sun's rays didn't penetrate as much, and the whole environment ended up getting wetter than usual. Henry shivered as the wind made him wonder why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was sitting on the usual rock, it was close to the river that separated them from the Muggles, and it gave him a good view across the village. There were houses like the ones on this side, but they always looked a lot less colorful than the ones he was used to, and there weren't as many flowers and trees either, as if the Muggles were willing to clear every bit of land they found, leaving everything gray and monotonous. Henry had asked his mother if they could go to that side of the village, but Arabella had been stern to say he was forbidden to even think about going to the Muggles. He chuckled softly, thinking that if it hadn't been for the river that separated them, he probably would have managed to at least get there, curious as always. A noise startled him, making him jump and hide behind the rock, praying it wasn't one of Jilian's friends, as he would be at such a disadvantage. There wasn't much to run now, Henry had almost reached the end of the forest, and unless he took a chance and ran towards the darkest and scariest part, the other option was to jump into the river. And he wasn't doing any of those things. But when he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate they were people, he stood up,

watching a deer walking around, distracted by everything, as if nothing else mattered. Henry had never seen one this close, and he was a little fascinated by the animal, he understood why there are two deer on the Potter family crest. It really was a beautiful animal, and if he could choose, he would also want them emblazoned on his chest. Henry stepped out from behind the rock, careful not to startle the animal, trying to get as close as he could. “Hey,” he called, even though it didn't make much sense. The animal turned, eyes huge now in his direction. It had been a bad idea, he cursed himself mentally, imagining that that animal was too big and would probably kill him without a second thought… Did deer eat human flesh? Henry didn't know, but they probably hurt anyone who scared them and made them feel in danger. The animal approached, slowly, and each step made the boy's stomach turn and his heart race. Deer were fast, much faster than Henry was. He was dead. But when the animal's black eyes got much closer than Henry had ever thought he saw, the animal bowed, as if saying hello to him. Without thinking twice, he did the same, maintaining eye contact with the deer. Heavens, couldn't he be less weird? Bending over to deer, blowing things up without meaning to... Henry stood up after a while, being careful to do this as slowly as possible, still afraid the deer would decide to kill him then and there. But the animal seemed to have other plans, because he lay down in front of the boy, as if he were an adorable little dog. Henry sat beside him too, having no choice; he didn't have many friends, and he had nothing else to do, so why not? His ass got a little wet from the dirt, but nothing too uncomfortable. The deer shifted and brought its head closer to Henry's crossed leg, as if asking for affection, and the boy didn't wait for another move to do so, leaning his back against the stone and reaching out to stroke the slightly coarse fur of the animal For some strange reason, Henry felt comfortable doing it, as if he had done it before, it was something familiar that burned in his chest. But he didn't think about it much, just fell silent and watched the forest in front of him. ---------------------- "Lily, what's going on?" James asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the tension surround the room, Remus looked nervous and Peter avoided looking up, as if he was suddenly afraid to face one of them. Lily turned to James, her green eyes seemed to glow with hatred, her nostrils swollen, an expression he'd seen a few times over the years, but one that always scared him. "What... What happened?" Her shaky voice made him look at Remus again, the worry growing by the second. "Oh James." She shook her head, as if suddenly too much pain hit her, and he ran to her protection, opening his arms to hold her and protect her from anything that had happened while he was gone. "Guys, anyone…?" He glanced at his friends, but again, Peter didn't look at him. "Tell him, Peter!" Lily yelled, breaking out of James' embrace and turning to the man sitting on the floor, pointing her wand in his direction. ‘Lily, what the hell!?’ "No, James," She held up a hand, silencing him. "Tell Peter, tell him what you did to our son." His world stopped, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as James stared at his friend, begging for all that was most sacred that he hadn't quite understood. Peter was his brother, his best friend, they met when they went to Hogwarts together, he was there when James needed it most, when they decided to become Animagus… Peter wouldn't do that, he couldn't! James doubted that one day the pain of losing a child would be replaced by another, that hellish emptiness that tore at him more and more inside, that made him not sleep well on rainy nights, that still made him walk into the boy's immaculate room and sit on the floor wondering what he should have done differently. He would do anything to get his son back, his boy. But the pain that hit him when Peter shook his head and lowered his head, making him

realize his hands were tied behind his body, came very close. His best friend… betrayed him? "Peter?" James pleaded, begged, for it to be a lie, for Lily to be mad. It was a lie! It had to be. "I had to, James... I... he made me." ---------------------- The weather was not so good, Peter realized when he Apparated, the sky was dark and windy like never before. He should have worn another cloak, this one was too thin and made him cold. And other gloves too, because now these were bloody and torn. Who knew a woman could be so strong? Peter dragged the woman's passed out body with him, feeling a little sickened by that when he realized her wound was getting worse with each passing minute, he needed to be quick. Leaving the body where no one could find it, he pulled a strand of her hair into the potion and then took it, the horrible taste of iron made him want to spit it out on the floor, but now there was no turning back, he would have to swallow and continue with the plan. Lord Voldemort had promised him a great reward in exchange for the boy's life, and for the first time in a long time, Peter felt important and wanted. It wasn't that Black boy who was chosen, or even Snape, no no, he was the one Voldemort thought capable of completing the mission, he thought he was strong enough. How long has it been since? He only stayed inside the Order because James kept him there, no one really wanted him there, not even Dumbledore, Peter didn't need him to say it to know, it was visible to everyone. For the old man, any other man could do the job better than he… Probably if Lily were there too, she would be chosen before Peter. Potter this, Black that, Peter was tired. Why didn't anyone realize he was also strong and smart? Well, now that was over, Voldemort had seen his potential and chosen him to do this mission, and Peter wasn't going to fail now. When he was fully transformed into that whore, he apparated into the castle, glad the potion didn't stop him from doing so. Stupid James should have put in better security than a simple spell. Peter had seen James that afternoon, he said that today was Harry's first night trying to sleep alone and that he and Lily were excited to see how he would react to the change, so the plan would be even easier to execute. As excited as Peter was at the idea of being useful to someone, he knew he couldn't kill James, he had to really want to do it with all his heart. When he reached the boy's room, Peter looked around, noting the choice of bright, cheerful colors, the many teddy bears scattered around, the photos on the walls and in the frames above the dresser. Little Harry slept peacefully in his bed, wrapped in the pale blue blanket, looking peaceful, cuddled up with his deer teddy bear. He was a lot like James, Peter thought, watching the boy move his short legs like he was kicking something in the dream. He hadn't really thought about that part of the plan, he figured he'd have the guts to just take the boy and end his life right there, or in some alley farther along, but when Peter picked him up, being careful not to waking him up, that lavender scent invaded his nostrils and he watched the baby more closely. The boy looked helpless in his arms, like he wasn't even real, and if he wasn't watching the boy's belly rise and fall, Peter would think he was a doll. Voldemort would never know if he had killed the boy or not, and pausing to analyze the situation now, Peter also didn't know if he could kill the boy. He wanted to show that he was strong and useful, but a baby? Harry looked so…small. When he stirred, startling Peter, and seemed to be looking for something - maybe his mother's scent - he realized it was time to act, there was no turning back, it had to be now. And when lightning flashed in the sky, he cast a spell to prevent Harry from listening when he broke the glass to fake an escape, Peter waited for thunder to do so and then Apparated out of the castle, knowing that this was the best thing to do. There were two paths now, and he needed to think quickly

which was better, kill Harry and throw him in some hole, or give the boy to someone else. Of course he would risk this person recognizing the baby, but he would have to bet his luck on finding another baby like this for Lily and James to bury, or maybe even run to the Muggle village and find some woman there. It had to be fast, Harry would wake up any second and Peter didn't have much time after that. As soon as he spotted a woman a few blocks away and Harry opened his eyes in his arms, Peter acted without thinking, taking the knife from his pants pocket and opening a wound in his ribs, before starting to scream for help. ---------------------- James clapped his hand over his mouth, denying it over and over, not believing what he was hearing. No no no no. This had to be a lie, this had to be a lie. Peter would never do that, Peter was his brother, he would never… No, this could only be a joke. He could barely handle the pain right now, thinking he'd rather die than have to deal with it. It hurt so much that James thought he might start bleeding at any moment, his chest lacerated after hearing about it. He couldn't even feel angry. His boy, his little boy, whom he'd loved so much ever since Lily told him she was pregnant, that it made him want to scream from the top of the roof in so much joy… “I could kill you right now,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity, barely able to face the traitor. "But…" James shook his head, closing his eyes to try to make it hurt a little less, his father's voice resonating through his mind; "You must be careful with Peter," he said before he died. "Men like him are easily attracted to the side that shines the most." James had thought his father was delusional when he said that, thought it was the fever, but no, the bastard really was a weakling and a coward. Letting himself be attracted to those he once hated. If he really hated it. "I can't even look at you." James turned to Lily, who looked distraught to death at having to hear that story. He wanted to kill Peter even more for making her suffer like that. The traitor had been there the next day, helping with the searches, he had hugged Lily when she cried, told her everything would be fine. "James, give me your hand," asked Lily, her own trembling, reaching out towards him. 'Why?' "Lils…he could be lying—" She shook her head, telling Remus to shut up. "Give me your hand James." Now her voice was stronger, more determined, and her green eyes sparkled even more. He did so, letting her grab his palm and run the tip of the knife, causing the blood to drip and smear her workbench and floor, before finally dripping into the cauldron. “Lily, what are you doing?” But she didn't answer him, cutting her own palm and spilling her blood along with his, then looking over her husband's shoulder. She looked more nervous than ever, and her severed hand shook even more as she held it out to the man behind James. "Give me your hand, Henry." Her green eyes sparkled with tears, and James didn't know if the man did as she asked just because she was a Duchess, or because she was crying. "Yes, ma'am." He walked over and let her do the same thing with his palm, passing the tip of the knife and then letting the blood spill into the cauldron. The potion began to bubble fiercely, as did James' chest when he realized what Lily was up to. He had seen her make this potion a few times, and if his thinking was correct, then maybe he could vomit right there, his stomach churning and making him feel weak. James didn't want to get his hopes up, it only served to hurt when unrequited, but he was unable to hold back the urge and looked at the man behind him, and then at Peter, who now looked even more guilty, if that was possible. If this was another one of his jobs with Voldemort, James knew he would kill him right there, with his bare hands. Forget magic and wands, he would tear that mouse apart like a hungry lion. James turned to the cauldron again when Lily sobbed and he smelled the lavender scent all over the room, and the once gray

potion was now a pinkish hue, the three drops of blood seemed to dance in the middle of the liquid, before of finally meeting at the end, getting connected. "Harry." Lily turned to the man, but James remained frozen, watching the cauldron in front of him. They had never reached this result, usually the potion would explode or nothing happened, and the smell was never that sweet aroma that seemed to fill all the hollows in his chest, as if he suddenly felt no more pain. As he turned back, as Lily advanced towards the boy, James thought that maybe nothing would ever compare to this. "Harry," Lily repeated, but this time she touched him, and as if the boy felt it too, he lowered his green eyes to her. James remembered then where he knew that look… It was Lily's eyes. Her trembling hand went to his forehead, lifting the hair lying there, just to let them see the lightning scar marked into his skin. It was too much to handle, James didn't know how he was still standing, but suddenly he started to feel tears rolling down his cheeks and as if this was the last drop of water to overflow the bucket, he sobbed. He inched closer to Lily, wanting to take a closer look at his son, as if he was afraid this was a dream and soon he would no longer have the chance to memorize every detail of it. His boy… "You-" Harry trailed off, as if he was feeling like James and Lily, his chest filling up and all that emptiness seeming to finally heal. "My parents?" He looked at James, and it was as if time had never passed. He still had the same expression as that little baby James used to cuddle up to sleep on. "I knew I knew you from somewhere," James managed to say, his throat seeming to scratch with the effort it took. "I would never be able to forget…" He didn't mind the tears rolling down his face, but he tried to wipe the ones down Harry's face. "I would never be able to forget my son."

#hinny #harry x ginny #jily lives #hinny au #the duke #harry potter #ginny weasley

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mk-wizard · 3 years

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So Long, Garfield: A fanscript on how Garfield could end well

Hello, fans and fat cats. Here I am with another Garfield essay, but this one is different. It is not exploration, fan theory or character analysis, but a fanscript on how the iconic comic strip cat could end on a high note. Keep in mind that this fanscript also tries to uphold all the things that made Garfield great and brings the original concept as well as many original ideas full circle. The premise of Garfield was that we saw life through his eyes namely how he saw his owner Jon’s life at how socially awkward, pathetic and bad with women he was. The audience was also subtly led to believe that if Jon ever did finally find a woman namely his most often go-to-gal Garfield’s vet Liz who found him revolting, it would mean the end of Garfield. Yet when that happened, it still went on. I think the story should end now and here is a fan script that I put together on how Garfield could end in my opinion on a high note while honouring its legacy. It is divided into four parts which symbolize the four stages of a very drastic change in one’s life. Specifically, how everything around Garfield changes in an almost domino effect kind of way because Jon and Liz finally became a couple. Note that that four stages serve as four story arcs which make up what would make for Garfield’s very last volume in the book series.

1- Jon wants to marry Liz meaning she will move in and the household dynamic and lifestyle will change forever (resistance). - After becoming an official couple, Jon and Liz decide to move onto the next big step which is to get married. Before, when they were just dating, it made Garfield a bit jealous yet he could deal with it because at least everything else was the same in his life and he grew to like having Liz around as a visitor, but having her around full time means things will change the household dynamic forever. It turns out that adapting to having Liz live with them is going to take a lot changes and it means the way they act, live and do every day tasks will not be the same anymore. Initially, Garfield will react very bad to this because unlike Jon, he likes bachelorhood and isn’t ready to give it up, so he would probably do everything he could to foil Jon’s attempts to propose to Liz and even go as far as making Liz very uncomfortable in an effort to get her to dump Jon. However, Garfield’s stunts in fact backfire as Liz turns out to be very tolerant and patient with him as she is not only good with animals since she is a vet, but kind of see right through him so she sympathizes with him not wanting her to intrude. Also, despite all of Garfield’s efforts, Jon still somehow manages to propose to Liz and she says yes. When that happens, Garfield stops resisting and just resigns. Note that from here on end, the planning of Jon and Liz’s wedding is ongoing in the background.

2- Lyman finally finds his own place and job meaning he will move out, but so will Odie (denial). - This leads us to phase two which also brings up the forgotten yet still present idea that Lyman is Jon’s roommate and Odie is not actually Jon’s dog. After so many years, Lyman finally lands a great job and is able to move out, BUT if he goes, so will Odie. Obvious, neither Garfield or Odie are happy about this because they’re actually good friends. I would imagine that there would be tons upon tons of gags of trying to stop the move out from happening like the pets emptying out the luggage to trying to sneak Odie away so that he secretly stays in Jon and Garfield’s house, but of course, all of these attempts to keep the status quo would not only fail, they would make both Jon and Lyman very angry. I imagine the punchline in the end would be that it turns out that Lyman is only moving away into his own house a few blocks away which is just walking distance. Also, the serious side that keeping Odie isn’t just unrealistic, it’s mean because he’s all Lyman’s got. Of course, Jon and his own friend still be cool. It is also here we finally find out what Lyman does for a living; he is a photographer and he will be taking pictures for Jon and Liz’s wedding. And bittersweetly, while it turns out Garfield and Odie won’t be split up that far apart, them not living together is still a huge change to get used to as their absence in each other’s lives is felt.

3- Nermal comes to terms with leaving kittenhood and abandonment issues in his mind (depression). - At this phase, Garfield is sad and depressed, and things seem to get worse as Jon and Liz are going to the Arbuckle farm to celebrate their engagement. And fun long lost fact; Nermal is the kitten of Ma and Pa Arbuckle... but things have changed there too and so has Nermal. Mom and Dad have their own announcement which is that they are retiring and have decided to start traveling which means they are leaving the farm and the little guy in Doc Boy’s care. And while the parents are optimistic about this new phase in their lives, Doc Boy is facing some issues as Nermal is no longer a kitten. He is now a “teenager” meaning he is no longer cute and has taken up a rebellious as well as an unfriendly streak. He has become spiteful and does unkind things which as first annoys Garfield until he notices a familiar pattern and recalls he went through the same thing... when his previous owner, a pasta chef gave him to Jon. Despite all of his better judgement, Garfield gets Nermal to have a heart to heart talk, and Nermal admits that he is hurt that Mr. and Mrs. Arbuckle are leaving him behind. He thinks that they are abandoning him because he’s not a cute little kitten anymore. Of course, it turns out that the real reason they are leaving him with Doc Boy is out of love. Nermal has needs and requires stability that the Arbuckles cannot give him at their age, so they are leaving him with Doc Boy so he’ll be in good hands and have a good life. Garfield then finally comes to terms with his own abandonment issues and discovers that the pasta chef did the same thing. He didn’t give him to Jon to get rid of him because he was eating the lasagna all the time. Garfield getting older and hungrier was a sign that he was growing up and needed a good home, so the chef helped Garfield find an owner who could be there for him full time. Through this, for the first time ever, Garfield and Nermal finally find common ground and get to like each other. It turns out that underneath it all, Nermal is a lot like Garfield in how he likes to eat and secretly enjoys mischief. So much so that like how Garfield loves lasagna, Nermal adores country style apple pie. At the end of the engagement party and trip, both Garfield and Nermal’s spirits are lifted, and while Nermal has eased up a little, it is hinted that he has become Doc Boy’s “Garfield” which makes Garfield for the first time ever, finds Nermal cute for it.

4- Jon gets to know Liz’s parents and Garfield rethinks his own relationship with Arlene (acceptance). - Nearing the end of the wedding plans, Jon must now get to know Liz’s parents and become accepted by them. It turns out that Liz’s dad is an easy going guy who seems to have a lot in common with Jon while her mom is the stern one who seems to have a lot of Liz’s sarcastic and no nonsense demeanor. She is also a big time zoologist. Meanwhile, Garfield is taking in all of the changes that are going on around them and decides that maybe, change isn’t so bad after all. Namely, maybe it isn’t so bad to love someone other than yourself. This makes him think that instead of just being casual with Arlene yet keeping her at an arm’s length, he decides he wants to go steady with her and officially become boyfriend and girlfriend with her. In the midst of all of this, it turns out that despite how intimidating Liz’s mom has acted towards Jon, she actually always accepted him and thinks he is a good match for her daughter because they balance each other kind of like how her own quirky and socially awkward husband balances himself with her. More importantly, Jon makes Liz happier than any other man she has met before. Once that resolution is made and all of the wedding plans are made, Garfield at long last introduces Arlene to the family indicating that they are officially together. Of course, Jon and Liz being who they are, take an immediate liking to Arlene and agree to take her in meaning that she is also not part of the household too. At this point, the wedding plans are finally put into place which offers tons of hilarious antics namely the things that go wrong to the things that are over the top. Though at the end, the wedding finally happens and the final scene is of Jon and Liz becoming husband and wife while Garfield thanks the audience for coming this far with them and saying goodbye.

The End

Well, there you have it. This is my fanscript on how Garfield ought to end in the best way possible. What do you all think of it? I would love to hear what you all think. Do you think any of this will happen?

If you have a fan theory, character analysis or anything of a comic media you want me to make an essay for, let me know in my ask section. Also, please give this a like, give me a watch and support me either by Ko-fi or Patreon. Links are in my profile.

Thanks guys and as always, stay safe.

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watching-pictures-move · 3 years

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Viddying the Nasties #37 | Possession (Zulawski, 1981)

This review contains spoilers.

Andrzej Zulawski's Possession is a movie I'd somewhat been dreading revisiting. When I'd seen it all those years back (on YouTube, split into two parts if I recall correctly, as the DVD had been hard to come by in those days), despite being greatly moved by the experience, I'd also found it an extremely exhausting film to sit through. It's a tortured divorce melodrama (among other things) that starts at 11 and only goes up from there. Lots of shouting and screaming, physical abuse, kicking around chairs and tables. The movie is not what I'd call an overtly pleasant experience. Watching it now (on a Blu-ray from Mondo Vision, a substantial upgrade from my original format), while I won't characterize my previous impressions as inaccurate, I was able to better appreciate how the movie modulates this tone, acclimatizing us to its fraught emotional space. The movie starts off in the realm of a normal, bitter breakup, with the husband having returned from a work trip only to learn that his wife is leaving him and struggling to make sense of it, his frustration and anger stemming as much from the fact of her dissolving their relationship as his inability to comprehend her motivations. It isn't really until the half hour mark that it asks us to dive off the deep end with it. The husband hits his wife in the middle of a fight, follows her onto the street as she tries to halfheartedly throw herself onto the path of a truck, which then drops its baggage in an almost comical bit of stuntwork, their squabble ended when the husband becomes surrounded by children playing soccer and joins in. Any one of these by itself is nothing out of the ordinary, but Zulawski assembles them into an off-kilter crescendo, and does away with any sense of normalcy for the rest of the runtime.

That this approach works as well as it does is largely thanks to Isabelle Adjani as Anna, the wife, who spends the aforementioned scene looking like a vampire in cat eye sunglasses and blood streaming down her grimacing mouth. She delivers perhaps the most bracingly physical performance I've seen in a movie, but again this is something I'd maybe underappreciated initially in terms of how finely tuned her choices are. An early scene where she fights with her husband has her manically cutting raw meat and shoving it into a grinder, as if to channel her frustrations into acceptable form of violence for women. When she takes an electric knife to her throat, she begins to spasm about like a farm animal during a botched slaughter, providing a further comment on her domestic situation. The film's most famous scene has her freak out in a subway tunnel, thrashing her limbs about chaotically but almost rhythmically, maybe like the contractions when goes into labour. Her character later describes this as a miscarriage, ejecting the side of her which is neat and orderly and "good". Adjani plays this other half as well, with a much more old fashioned hairdo (braided conservatively like a stereotypical schoolmarm), one which provides a much more tender maternal figure to the couple's son. Adjani is also well cast because of her emotive, saucer-like eyes, which she isn't afraid to point at the camera repeatedly, providing a genuine emotional grounding during both the quieter and more hysterical sections of the movie.

Her husband, Mark, is played by Sam Neill, who had been cast after the filmmakers had seen him in Gillian Armstrong's My Brilliant Career. To understand why Neill works so well, it helps to know that Sam Waterston had previously expressed interest in the role. Waterston, while a good actor, would have come off too fogeyish as the husband. Neill brings the appropriate edge and even sex appeal necessary for the material. And like in Jurassic Park, his best known role, he brings an inquisitive quality that keeps him close enough to our vantage point to give the narrative arc some grounding. The other major human character here is Heinz Bennent as Heinrich, a new age guru who happens to be having an affair with the wife. One on hand, this character represents the counterculture from Zulawski's homeland, which he had left after trouble from the authorities when making his last movie. On the other hand, Zulawski was drawing heavily from the bitter divorce he had just gone through, and directs a sizable fraction of the movie's contempt at this character, leading me to believe that his wife in fact left him for some new age buffoon. In one of the movie's funnier scenes, he has Heinrich confront Mark over Anna's disappearance and then go into a dumbassed trance while spouting new age nonsense and basically calling Mark a Nazi. This is the guy his wife left him for? This jackass? Mark sets him up by sending him to Anna, knowing full well he could be killed, but the potency of Mark's rage (and Zulawski's, by extension), as well as the ludicrousness of the Heinrich character, keep us from sympathizing with the latter too much. Zulawski has Heinrich die with his head in a toilet, a final flush by Mark serving as one last hilariously mean-spirited gesture of contempt.

Zulawski originally conceived the movie as having another major character, Anna's ex-husband, to be played by veteran actor and director Bernard Wicki, but after the first day of shooting with Wicki, he decided to drop the character entirely. (I suppose it depends on the personalities, but I wonder how actors react to being let go early from a project. Is it worse if it's on the first day? How about if you lead the filmmakers to realize they should do away with the character altogether? I only hope Wicki got paid.) It's not hard to see what purpose this character would have served, particularly in the way that Anna "upgrades" her lovers, having traded a much older man for the younger, sexier Mark, and then trying to replace him with an evolving monstrous fuck-squid (more on this later) that she was trying to nurture and reshape into the ideal partner. The only remnants of this character in the finished film is his young wife, who appears in the climax and his goaded by the "new" Mark (the final form of the fuck-squid) to shoot into the corpses of the real Mark and Anna. The character's proposed thematic purpose might have spelled out this moment's significance more clearly, but I'm not always convinced thematic clarity is preferable to how things move and feel, and the end product does not feel incomplete or incoherent, or at least not detrimentally so. The emotions make sense, even if the events onscreen are outside the norm. (My condolences to those of you who've been dumped for a monstrous fuck-squid.)

Having been conceived after his last project was quashed by authorities in Poland, there's undeniably a political element here, enhanced by the noticeable presence of the Berlin Wall, near which much of the film is situated. (At one point the camera looks out the window and sees the police from East Berlin staring back.) The realities of the Cold War figure heavily in the characters' lives, as it's suggested that Helen (the other Adjani) is from behind the Iron Curtain (she speak of readily identifiable evil, which could be interpreted as the visible presence of an authoritarian regime) and that Mark's work is in the field of intelligence, maybe even espionage. But the movie is less interested in pointing out political specifics than in the accompanying sense of repression and division, which plays heavily into the visual style. The movie often divides its frames to separate the characters, but rarely with any sense of symmetry, suggesting a sense of emotional chaos enhanced by the bruising mixture of wide angle lenses and handheld camerawork. When we're with Mark, the movie looks overcast, bluish grey, appropriately repressed at first, although Anna's presence throws his neat, fluorescently-lit apartment into disarray. Anna's love nest, situated in the Turkish district right beside the Wall is dilapidated and unkempt, which may have reflected the squalid realities of a hastily rented apartment in what I assume is a poorer part of town, but after having excised the orderly part of herself, it seems like an accurately messy reflection of her headspace.

Now back to the fuck-squid. It's hard to go into Possession this day and age completely blind, and even back when I first saw it, it came on my radar as the movie where "Isabelle Adjani fucks a squid". I have a lot of respect for Zulawski for delivering the goods on this front and for Adjani for throwing herself into this material, not because I'm some kind of sexual deviant who gets off on this stuff (although if you are, I'm not here to judge, it's a free country, just clear your browsing history after), but because modern arthouse cinema often defaults to a mode of cold, downplayed and too afraid to raise the audience's pulse (because apparently it's undignified to force a reaction out of the audience) and it's nice to see a movie serve what it says on the tin (this is one I'd have loved to see with an unsuspecting audience back in the day). Producer Marie Laure-Reyre notes that Zulawski was very hands on with the conception of the monster, drawing inspiration from gargoyles in Polish architecture, as if to further imbue political context into the proceedings. When seeing the end product, I can only assume Zulawski broke up with his wife at a seafood restaurant (I would hope he didn't react like Mark and throw around all the tables and chairs). Of course, the design of the monster means that the movie leans heavily into body horror, and its inclusion on the Video Nasty list in the UK and its release in the US in a heavily-trimmed 81-minute version emphasizing these elements likely contributed to its psychotronic reputation early on. (I am still interested in seeking out this cut, as I can't imagine the loss of 40 whole minutes wouldn't substantially alter the film's character.) It flirts with other genres as well. Certain scenes have a clear slapstick quality. Some of these involve Heinrich, the ever-reliable target of the film's ridicule, but there is also Margit Cartensen, playing Anna's friend and Mark-hater Marge, falling on her ass like a Three Stooges bit. And there's the climax, parodying action movies with its woozy cocktail of car chase, shootout and explosions, which leads a headlong rush into the film's apocalyptic final moments.

#film #viddying the nasties #movie review #possession #andrzej zulawski

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iseeskiesofblueandcloudsofwhite · 3 years

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Pumpkin Man

Andrew thought he got rid of the man he suspected had an affair with his wife. Little did he know that he problems only started to take root in his backyard.

Chapter One

Andrew

May 16, 2021. It will be the day I forever regret. The day I killed my Robert Norstrum. He was a co-worker of Stacy, my wife. They worked at a local home depot at a town over, she worked in the garden section while he worked in electrical. He was a short man with piercing blue eyes and dark black hair who always had something clever to say and chose the most annoying way to say it. I know that I could be rough around the edges, not as easy going as some but that didn’t mean that he needed to bother my wife. I am a good father to our child and got a degree in software engineering so I could pay for our beautiful house with a garden that Stacy loved. Our home that we made was the perfect slice of heaven

There was nothing extraordinary about Robert that I could see, but I could see that my wife thought of him differently. Initially, when she spoke about him, her eyes would light up. Eventually she caught on to my disgust for him and just mentioned him on occasion, but at that point only the slightest mention would send me in a bad mood. And then there were the lapses of time I didn’t know where she was. She said she was going out to the store or out for a walk, but all I could imagine was her talking and giggling with that man with the blue eyes. When I mentioned it to her, she said that I was paranoid. The feeling was similar to that of right before one gets a head cold. You can sense something is off, but can’t quite put your finger on it. I remember my growing anxiety that I might lose my house, my wife and my kid along with everything I worked so hard to accomplish.

That day Robert Nostrum showed up at my door looking for her. It was in the middle of the day and I was working from home at that time taking my lunch. Stacy took Talyor, our daughter, on a playdate, and would not be back for hours. He said that he was dropping off a mums, and a giant pumpkin plant that she had been eyeing. I remember looking at the plant and thinking that I was the only man that should be giving Stacy gifts. I led him down into the basement where I said I had electrical problems and needed another man’s eyes on it. From there it was quite simple, while he was looking at the electrical work I hit him on the back of the head with a crowbar. There was no struggle as he seemed to be in shock. He fell to the floor and as I bludgeoned his face until it was unrecognizable. From there wrapped his body in an old carpet and put it in a wheelbarrow. It was in the middle of the day and I knew that most of the neighbors were at work in upper class suburbia. I emailed work quickly citing a family emergency so I could deal with the remains. My backyard also had a thin veil of trees from one property to the other making it difficult to see adjoining properties unless one was intent on looking. I dug a deep grave in the freshly tilled soil of the garden rather fast. Where the tiller did not reach I used a pick ax to loosen the dirt, the wet spring soil easily breaking under my shovel . I dug it much deeper than anyone would ever uncover. I knew I would tell Stacy next year that the garden would have to be moved next year and make some excuse that there was better light in other places of the lawn, but changing the location of the garden now would be too much work without a better cause. After digging the grave, I simply dumped the body in with the pumpkin plant that he came with. It was almost chilling to see that after I put back the earth around the grave, that it looked no different than the garden surrounding it. I cleaned the mess in the basement. Taking his car and I drove it to a local deserted park wearing plastic gloves to make sure I left no fingerprints. By the time Stacy was home with Taylor, so I told her that I had taken a short walk around town and I would be back in a few hours. That was the last I thought Robert Northstom would bother me, my wife or my daughter but I was horribly wrong.

Chapter Two

Stacy

Stacy looked outside the french windows as the crisp fall air touched her face. It wasn’t really cold, but the air was definitely getting drier and she could feel a sense of autumn wrapping its arms around her. Stacy could hardly believe it was autumn. It seemed like just yesterday that it was the start of the season at the store and she was laying out new plants that had just sprouted. That was when Robert kept her company at the store. He was nothing more than a friend but a real close one and his absence along with the socialization that Stacy got from working made Stacy feel uneasy transitioning back home. Stacy always found the adjustment back to full time stay at home mom overwhelming, but this year it seemed to hit even more. Taylor and her family were her life but Andrew had a tendency to be distant and Taylor could be a handful. Work sometimes seemed a lot less complicated than her home life.

Stacy savored the few moments before Taylor, her five year old, woke up and started creating havoc in the house with her toys. She could hear that her husband Andrew had already started working upstairs on his computer. He didn’t say a word to her this morning, but that was the way things usually were. He wasn’t distant when they first started dating, Stacy couldn’t really put her finger on it when they stopped saying good morning to each other, but now that was just the way it was. Stacy walked into the kitchen and started making breakfast with Edgar, the cat closely at her heels. Stacy was barely done with the eggs when she heard Taylor clomping down the stairs.

“Mommy!’ Taylor cheered as she entered the kitchen. She squatted down near Edgar and gently pulled his tail. Immediately Edgar scrambled out of the kitchen.

“Taylor, don’t pull his tail. That hurts him.” Stacy said.

“I’m sorry Mommy.” Taylor muttered, sitting in her chair.

“What do you want to do today? We could go to the farm and go for a tractor ride. Does that sound fun?” Stacy asked.

“Scarecrow!" Taylor exclaimed, pointing out the windows towards the garden.

This year the garden was a bust. Every plant Stacy planted died almost immediately as if the land was intentionally salted. The death had also creeped a little in the yard right up to the house resulting in a horrible looking yard. Stacy was sure it was just a bad grub problem this year, but then, in the middle of July, a pumpkin plant started to flourish in the garden. It soon consumed the barren garden with cascading leaves and pulsating veiny stems.

Since it was the only plant growing in the garden the pumpkin plant demanded the attention of the garden. In the middle of the vegetation lay a single pumpkin. It was not a huge pumpkin, slightly bigger than one’s head.

“Ok, we can do that.” Stacy knew Andrew should probably be included in the family activity, but he never seemed interested with any of the plants this year.

He even mentioned killing the plant and starting afresh making a new garden, but Stacy and Taylor would not allow it.

Stacy and Taylor walked out into the garden. The strong early autumn sun warmed the air but the dryness was still there. Taylor pranced out in the lawn already distracted by the sunshine and the earth. Stacy went into the garage grabbing paper, a pencil, cutting utensils, an old flannel shirt, jeans and gloves. Walking back to the house Stacy grabbed paints and a paintbrush. Painting was much more safe than carving knives.

“Andrew, we are going to make a scarecrow. I was wondering if you were free to help me cut off the stalk?”

“Umm.. sure. I will be there soon” Andrew mumbled.

Stacy walked out in the yard and helped Taylor gather leaves for the scarecrow’s body. Andrew came out to the yard a few minutes later with a knife.

“Daddy!” Taylor ran to Andrew. Andrew threw the knife a safe distance away and grabbed Taylor spinning her in the air.

Stacy looked at both Andrew and Taylor with the backdrop of their house. Everything about their life was picture perfect at this moment as she joined her family in an embrace.

“We are going to make a scarecrow today?’ Andrew asked, dropping Taylor and picking up the knife again.

“Yes, Scarecrow!” Stacy cheered.

Stacy noticed Andrew's face became firmer when he looked at the garden. He picked up the knife in his hand and walked towards the pumpkin. Sitting down, Andrew sliced the stem.

Errikkk

A distant scream cried out that sounded like it came a few houses over. The knife barely made an abrasion on the stalk.

“Mommy, I’m scared.” Taylor cooed.

“It’s ok baby.” Stacy said.

Andrew readjusted the pumpkin and tried again.

Ahhhh

Another distant scream seemed to vibrate out of the ground. This time the knife made a cut an inch deep.

“Stop!” Taylor shrieked, running towards the house. Stacy looked toward Andrew.”

“Is that noise coming from the pumpkin?” Stacy questioned.

“Don’t be silly, those sounds aren’t coming from the plant. I will get it.” Andrew grumbled.

Stacy turned to get Taylor back in the house listening to the continued screaming coming from outside until she entered the house. In the house, Taylor was in the living room watching Andrew cut the pumpkin.

“It’s ok. The pumpkin plant can’t feel anything.” Stacy reassured Taylor.

They watched Andrew cut the pumpkin off it’s stalk and cut a hole for the pole. The way here was something rough about him when carving the object, the way that he even held the pumpkin like a severed head caused Stacy shivers. After doing his diligence, Andrew walked back to the house and went back to work in his upstairs study, without saying a word

“So, paint time?” Stacy suggested.

“Yes!” Taylor squealed.

Stacy and Taylor went back to the yard with the paint supplies.

“He could be a friendly pumpkin. He could be a friend to the trees and birds.” Stacy suggested.

“Yes, he will be friendly! Here Mommy I did it.” Taylor said

Stacy gazed upon her child’s artwork. Perhaps it was friendly to a five year old, but to Stacy it had a creepy edge to it. The pumpkin had a bright red grin that reached half the span of the pumpkin like a clown mouth. His nose was a lopsided yellow triangle and above that were huge blue eyes with black pupils.

“Looks great sweetie.” Stacy said, trying to hide her aversion to her daughter’s artwork. Taylor seemed oblivious to Stacy's thoughts.

“Hello, Mr. Scarecrow.” Taylor chirped as Stacy hammered a post on the edge of the garden and assembled the body. When she was finished it was 3:30 in the afternoon.

“Ok Taylor, time to clean up and go in. I’m going to start dinner for Daddy now.” Stacy said.

“But I want to play with Mr. Scarecrow now. He has to have friends”. Taylor protested.

“You can be his friend tomorrow.” Stacy said handing Taylor paint supplies. Taylor sighed and started helping Stacy clean up.

That evening after dinner the family set down to watch TV. The sun was setting earlier and already at 7 o clock the inky blackness of night had set in. Having little attention for TV this week, Stacy wandered into the kitchen. Passing by her French windows, she noticed Edger the cat transfixed with the outside world.

“What is it Edger? Do you see a mouse?” Stacy said. Edger looked back at her, now seeing that he got her attention, Edger began crying to the outside.

“Stop it, there's nothing out there.” Stacy said as she put the dishes in the dishwasher.

Nevertheless, the cat began crying more and more, like Stacy had not heard before.

“What’s up with Edger?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t know.” Stacy said, grabbing a mask and shooing away the cat from the windows.

Quickly frisking the darkness with a flashlight Stacy didn’t see anything new in the lawn, but as her flashlight hit the pumpkin, for a split-second, Stacy could have sworn that the pumpkin had narrowed its eyes.

Chapter Three

Stacy

The next day, Stacy was rushing to clean the house. Taylor’s friend, Amanda, was coming over.

“Is Amanda here yet? I want to show her Mr. Scarecrow today!” Taylor announced, holding a few stuffed animals in her hand.

“Ok, but you need to get dressed in the clothes I laid out for you and brush your teeth.” Stacy said, feeling overwhelmed. Andrew went to get coffee for himself a half an hour ago and hadn't come back yet. She can’t really blame him; Amanda’s parents were not their favorite people. There was no one reason why she disliked Amanda’s parents, but they could be rude at times. Stacy just would rather prefer dealing with them and her daughter together rather than alone. Hearing a door slam, Stacy turned her attention to the street to see Amanda being dropped off by her parents at the curb. Stacy breathed a sigh of relief. At least the feelings she had toward Amanda’s parents were mutual. Amanda clamored out of the car and rang the doorbell.

“Amanda!” Taylor squealed. She still was in her pajamas.

The two jumped around the living room with a loud greeting.

“Ok Taylor, get your clothes on and you two can play outside.” Stacy said.

“Yes Mom.” Giving Stacy an exaggerated salute Taylor raced up the stairs to her bedroom.

Waiting for Taylor, Amanda went to the kitchen overlooking the backyard.

“What’s that?” Amanda asked

“That’s a scarecrow we made.” Stacy explained.

“Wow!” Amanda exclaimed, transfixed by the garden ornament.

“You can go out there and I’ll let Taylor know.” Stacy offered.

Amanda ran out to see the scarecrow, soon followed by Taylor after she got dressed. At first, Stacy watched the pair talk next to the scarecrow, but eventually they were prancing around him and playing with stuffed animals with him. Stacy noticed that the children never touched the scarecrow, and that he remained perfectly still like a statue. Stacy found it rather amusing. Of all the toys she had purchased for Taylor, a scarecrow made out of old clothes provided hours of entertainment. Andrew came back from his coffee run and helped clean the house. It was nearing the time that Amanda had to go, but Stacy still wanted to play with the kids before she left.

“Let's go play with the girls.” Stacy offered hugging Andrew.

“Sounds like fun, let’s do it.” Andrew replied, kissing her on the forehead. They walked out of the house to the lawn across the lawn where Stacy could only see the profile of the scarecrow still facing the house.

“Hey kids, do you want to jump in the leaves?” Stacy announced. More had fallen than yesterday and there was enough for a small child to jump in.

“Yeah!" Taylor and Amanda raced toward Stacy leaving their playthings near the scarecrow. They ran towards Stacy’s pile of leaves screaming with delight. Stacy looked at her watch Amanda’s mother would be here any minute.

“Girls, go get your stuffed animals, Amanda your Mom should be here any minute.” Stacy said.

“Ugg! Already? I want to stay.” Amanda protested.

“I am sure you guys can pick up where you left off next time.” Stacy said as she noticed Amanda’s mother come in the backyard, her eyes not moving off the phone that she had in her hand.

“Mommy, Mommy! I had so much fun!” Amanda cried to her mother.

“Mhmm that’s great honey. Come on, we have to go.” Amanda’s mother started giving a quick wave to Stacy’s family and then turned around.

“Mommy, I want to go inside. I don’t think that Mr. Scarecrow likes it that we are playing without him. We should probably stop”. Taylor announced.

“Nonsense, it's just a scarecrow. If you are tired, we will play more tomorrow,” Andrew said.

“Ok” Taylor said, running back to the house, very unlike a child that was tired.

“She left her animals out here." Andrew pointed out.

Stacy followed his gaze across the yard, to notice that the scarecrow’s head was turned, and his blue eyes were staring at them. She also noticed that the wide grin on his face started to run downwards, creating the appearance of cheeks making him more human-like.

“Was it turned in this direction the whole time?” Stacy asked.

“I don’t know. I wasn't paying attention. Amanda’s mother could have moved it.’ Andrew replied.

Stacy walked into the garden to get Taylor’s stuffed animals, but she could not shake the feeling of another being’s presence. She thought about it, then straightened the pumpkin’s head back facing the house. Leaving the pumpkin man in the yard, Stacy ran back into the house without making a second glance.

Back in the house, Stacy washed her hands and started making dinner as Taylor played with her Legos.

“So Taylor, how was playing with Amanda?" Stacy asked.

“We mostly talked and played with Mr. Scarecrow.” Taylor said uninterested in the conversation.

“What did he say to you?” Stacy questioned.

“Well, he said that he likes the eyes that I gave him but he still can’t see well. He said that Daddy is a bad man and he wants to take things from Daddy the way he took things from him. I didn’t understand it. I told him that Daddy was nice and that Daddy can share because sharing is good. Then we played but I think he got mad when we started playing with Daddy. That’s ok, I will play with him tomorrow.” Taylor said still focused on her Legos.

Stacy furrowed her brow.

“Well, I want you to play with Daddy as much as you can.” Stacy said. After she was done in the kitchen, Stacy balanced though the Legos to talk to Andrew.

“That was very strange stuff.” Stacy said.

“Children have a very active imagination, but if you want to take it down you can.” Andrew suggested. He was reading a book upstairs by himself, just as interested in talking to Stacy as Taylor was.

“But she's attached to it, I can’t just destroy it.” Stacy said.

“I don’t know, destroy it, leave it up. Doesn’t matter to me.” Andrew said not looking away from his book.

Feeling frustrated, Stacy left the room. It had always been like this- Andrew was reliable when it came to having fun with Taylor, but uninterested when it came to actual parenting.

Back downstairs, Taylor was still playing with her Legos, and Edger started his odd behavior of crying at the French doors. Stacy scooped up the cat and put him in the basement, too emotionally drained to deal with him. She told herself she would give the scarecrow three more days and then tell Andrew to get rid of it.

Chapter Four

Andrew

I have had nightmares of Robert Nordstrom ever since I killed him. Sometimes he is there in the corner of my mind, just staring at me with glittering blue eyes like his scarecrow stands in our yard. In my dreams when I try to destroy him he seems to take something of mine, like an eye or a limb. After killing him the dream would continue but I would live out my life suffering as an amputee or blind. These dreams led me to roam the house at night. I wanted to destroy that scarecrow, but I knew that it would take it’s revenge, if not on me than on my family. So I will just watch it for now. My hope is that he will rot into the soft earth he came out of, and I would never have to deal with Robert Nordstrom or his ghost again.

Chapter Five

Stacy

The next day the ground was encrusted in a light frost. Unable to sleep well, Stacy slept in the living room downstairs. The morning sun woke her up and Stacy looked out at the lawn. The first thing that drew her eye was Mr. Scarecrow, although there was nothing more different with him this morning that she could see from this distance other than the fact that one of his gloves came off. Suddenly she heard movement from upstairs and the sound of little feet.

“Baby, what are you doing this early?” Stacy asked.

“I had nightmares. You were not in your room.” Taylor replied, clutching one of her stuffed animals near her face.

Stacy scooped up Taylor and put her on her hip.

“It’s ok. I could not sleep either. What do you want to do today?”

“I want to talk to Mr. Scarecrow.” Taylor said pointing at the backyard.

“Let's do something else today. How about a hayride?” Stacy suggested.

“No, I want to talk to him”. Taylor protested.

“Err, ok, but only for a few minutes and then we are going to go to the hayride.” Stacy said, walking out the back yard as Taylor skipped next to her.

When they reached Mr. Scarecrow, it was obvious things had changed. His round pumpkin face had rotted away to reveal a more human-like skull making his eyes more sunken in. When Stacy put Mr. Scarecrow’s glove back on the stake she noticed that the wood on the stake decayed in the shape of a wrist. Taylor started to whimper and hide behind Stacy.

“Mr. Scarecrow is more angry today. He wants to hurt Daddy.” Taylor whispered to Stacy.

Stacy didn’t want to bother Andrew anymore during the day with the scarecrow.

“Let's go to the farm and take a hayride, then when we get back I will have Daddy talk to Mr. Scarecrow, Ok?” Stacy said.

She grabbed Taylor’s hand and guided her towards the driveway, frequently checking her back.

When they got home, it was almost sunset. Stacy quickly busied herself with dinner. As soon as the sun went down, Edgar started crying at the French windows.

“Edger, stop it.” Stacy muttered, grabbing the flashlight and pulling back the curtain. The night was bright and she could see the gleam of the scarecrow's head against the moon.

“Mommy, what's going on?” Taylor whined.

“Nothing babe. It’s just Edger. It’s time to go to bed.” Stacy scooped up Taylor and led her towards her room. Up on the second story, Stacy got Taylor ready for bed, opening the windows to let in the perfect autumn sleeping weather.

Thump Thump Thump

“Mommy, what's that? Is that Mr. Scarecrow outside?” Stacy looked out the window. It was hard to make anything out, but in the place of the pumpkin man there was only a stick left where he once stood.

‘Yes he is out there somewhere. Here go to bed now.” Stacy tucked Taylor in.

“Mommie”. Taylor whined.

“Taylor, nothing is going to get you here. Now go to bed,” Stacy ordered, giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek.

“Everything will be alright.” Stacy said, closing the door behind her. The house was well lit as Stacy walked down stairs. Grabbing a flashlight Stacy walked outside on the back porch and showed it to the dark lawn. Frisking the flashlight over the lawn Stacy now saw clearly the face of Robert Norstrum in the garden.

“Bob?” Stacy screeched, dropping the flashlight in the house. The light scattered and fell onto the floor breaking the bulb. Stacy raced back in the house and fumbled for a new flashlight in her cabinet, frequently keeping her eye on the yard behind her. Grabbing the flashlight in her hand Stacy undid the lock on the french windows and stepping out into the night, not noticing her husband watching her from the kitchen.

Chapter Six

Andrew

I heard her yell his name and run out into the dark. At this point there was no doubt that the pumpkin contorted to the shape of a man’s face though decay and now resembled a man with blue eyes, whether that man was Robert I had my doubts. Nevertheless, the scarecrow was bothering everyone in this house, so I had to do something. I did not intend on hurting Stacy as I walked slowly behind her, crowbar in my hand to destroy the creation that was on my property. It was only when I stopped a few yards away when I saw her reach out the thing and touch the pumpkin man’s rotten flesh. My mind raced as I realized that by removing Robert from the picture, it did not replace me in her heart. My wife was the precious thing that Robert took. As this occurred to me a numbness came upon me as I ran toward the scarecrow to destroy it. I must have tripped on a massive root in the yard while I was running toward her because the crowbar landed squalry on top of her head. She yelped in pain or surprise as she fell toward the scarecrow. The light was low, but I could see that she lay motionless around a thick spray of dark red liquid. There was no running from what I had done. Even if she were to be still alive, I would have to try to explain to people what happened - the police or the hospital or something. She was too far away from the house to claim that she fell from our bedrooms. Suddenly I saw vines emerging from the pumpkin wrapping around her body. I hurled the crowbar again and again at the pumpkin destroying it’s rotten grotesque face. I missed a few times creating a soggy pile of brains and pumpkin at my feet. When the task was complete I buried her in the garden and tilled in the pumpkin plant as much as I could. The next day I tilled the garden and called 911 to report a missing person. It wasn’t until Taylor woke up to discover that her mother had disappeared in the night that the thought of raising her alone came to me.

After a few years had gone by it was clear that Robert took more than my wife that day. Like my dreams, I now walk around mentally suffering and disfigured. My lawn is filled with pumpkin sprouts that I constantly hack with a fear that a pumpkin will appear again. On May 16, 2021 I thought Robert Northstorm was out of my life, but now he haunts me every day.

#writing #horror #short story #short fiction #horror writing #goosebumps #creative writing

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undertalethingies · 4 years

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Self Indulgent Self Insert Fic, Part 2

Part one here

“Why’d you shoot fire at him?” I ask, partially to fuck with her and partially out of genuine curiosity. He hadn’t been attacking me, after all, so it was odd that she’d intervene. What did he do to get her to set him on fire just for being near a human?

Toriel purses her lips, and I note that her hands are clenched tightly. Must’ve been bad, then.

“He hides a wicked nature behind a congenial facade. Please, my child, keep your trust out of his reach,”

Oh, she’s just as formal in person! That’s honestly kinda cool. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one I know who’s ever used ‘congenial’ in a sentence, but for her it just seems natural.

“I definitely have more questions about that, but first, can you not call me your child, please? We literally just met,” Seriously, it’s weird. I know she’s grieving, but spontaneously adopting every child that falls without their approval or consent is kinda messed up.

If I manage to free the monsters, the first thing I’m doing on the surface is sticking them all in therapy. Seriously, these guys are worse than me, and I really don’t say that lightly.

Toriel’s face falls slightly, though she makes a valiant effort to hide it. (Seriously, what were you expecting me to say?)

“A-Ah, I suppose that is reasonable. May I ask your name, then?” Ok, people who are definitely reading this because I am 100% egotistical enough to assume y’all want to hear about my life. Listen up, because I’m going to say this as many times as the author wants me to. I know this is normally the part where I’d say ‘y/n’ but I want to make it clear that y/n is for reader inserts.

I am a self insert, which I know because no reader insert would ever have this much personality, those boring fucks. As a self insert, I am free to call myself Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and dye my hair black with purple streaks if I so desire.

(I don’t, I really don’t, My Immortal is a fun read if you want something to laugh at but no way in hell am I emulating that MC in any respect other than our shared enjoyment of MCR.)

ANYWAY, back to my conversation with goat mom! I’m not saying my real name because I’ve resolved that if I ever end up getting isekai’d I’ll go by my middle name, due to its general awesomeness. (My first name is also awesome, but it has a different vibe and aesthetics are everything in fantasy worlds)

“My name is Solena,” I say, responding after a reasonable pause in actual time and a weirdly long one in mental time. Now, my name looks like it would be pronounced ‘sol-een-a’ but it’s actually ‘sol-ain-uh’ which I’m stating because again, I’m fully confident that these thoughts are being written down somewhere by some enterprising author who is also very likely me from another timeline because no one else in existence is fully capable of conveying the Wonder that is Me.

“Thank you for telling me, Solena. My name is Toriel, and I will be your caretaker while you are in these ruins,” Toriel says, conveniently leaving out the fact that she’d prefer to keep me in these ruins forever, probably because I’ve already demonstrated some leeriness towards her.

Now, I could bring up Flowey again, seeing as her explanation for fireballing him was more than a little lackluster and I’m still pretending not to know this world inside and out, but I already know stuff about Flowey and there are things I’m significantly more curious about.

“Cool! Toriel, got it. Hey, if you live in a cave underground, how did you get such a nice dress? Do you have farms down here? Livestock? Do you harvest fibers from animal monsters?”

Haha, you thought I’d ask more about the magic? Hell no! I’m way more curious about how society functions down here!

Toriel does a double take, her expression implying that she’s revising all of her expectations towards me. (Again)

“There are small plant farms in some areas of the underground. We have no livestock down here, as we were delivered to this cave system in a bit of a rush, but we do harvest some fibers from willing monsters, yes. How did you guess it?”

Let me tell you, the high I’m getting right now from those theories being correct? Very similar to what happened recently in the BNHA comic with Dabi’s true identity. I am living for this, just absolutely vibing with this new knowledge.

“Well, I don’t see how else you’d do it. How do you get the dyes?” Because I don’t see them having access to chemical dye, and it’s not like humans trash a lot of the stuff unless this is one of those illegal dumping spots, so what gives?

“Excellent question, Solena! There are professional tailors who transfer dye from clothes that fall from the surface! Many also simply wear clothes acquired from the trash, though mine are hand-crafted as befits-” She cuts herself off before she can let slip her (former?) royal status. I let it slide because I really don’t see a need to step on trauma landmines here.

“As befits someone who’s! Affluent! Anyway, we’ve entered the Ruins proper! There are many dangerous puzzles here, an old monster tradition, so I’ll need to focus more on guiding you!” Damn it, we’re at the first puzzle already? I completely missed the staircase room, which sucks because not only did I miss out on seeing one of my favorite rooms, I didn’t notice whether there was a save point!

Fuck!

I walk to the sign by the door. “Brave ones, foolish ones, both walk not the middle road. What’s that mean? I obviously get it in the proverbial sense, but it’s near this puzzle, so is it supposed to be a clue?”

It straight up took me until my second playthrough to understand that sign, man.

Toriel’s face just lights up. She looks absolutely delighted, and I remember that she’s always wanted to be a teacher.

“It is a misdirection! The sign tricks the reader into thinking about it metaphorically, when the answer is actually quite literal!” She demonstrates by stepping on all the buttons but the center two, before turning to smile at me.

“Oh, that’s genius! Because you’re supposed to ignore the tiles in the middle! It works as a puzzle while also having an easily remembered solution if you’re in a hurry!” It’s honestly my favorite puzzle in the game for that, even if you’re never given the opportunity to solve it yourself.

“That is exactly what I was thinking when I created it! It is wonderful to hear that the message came across to someone, even if my- my, ah, my friends had consistent difficulty with it!”

We continue chatting about puzzles as we walk into the next room.

Toriel explains the spike puzzle here and how you’re supposed to memorize the layout of the first room to safely traverse the spikes. She also explains that she locked the ‘incorrect’ spikes permanently in the ‘up’ position so that no one would get hurt, stating that puzzles should be fun, not dangerous.

Honestly, she’s giving way more exposition than she ever did in the game, probably because I’m a slut for knowledge. I only really half hear her explanation, though, because what comes next is going to be very important to knowing the kind of experience I’m going to have down here.

See, we haven’t gone down the hallway to the spike room yet, and I know full well there’s a Froggit waiting there to ambush me.

I have a few questions that this pseudo fight will hopefully answer.

One, are there options like there are in the game? Because if the battle system is the same, it could severely limit my choices when it comes to conflict resolution, especially if I have the same options as Frisk.

Two, do I have a narrator and is that narrator Chara? TwoA, do they have control over me in fights, as in some fics, or am I fully autonomous? TwoB, if they are here, are they evil or are they a person, because that’s also something the fandom intensely and frequently disagrees about. TwoC, can they hear my thoughts? I’m going with ‘probably not’ because I’ve made zero effort to exclude spoilers, but there's still a possibility and I need it confirmed. TwoD, can they hear thoughts deliberately directed at them? I hope so, it would be a huge pain to only be able to talk to them when no one’s around.

Three, are Froggits secretly cats because there’s a meme comic about that and I need it in my life.

With these thoughts in mind, Toriel and I turn down the hall, and the world goes black and white.

#undertale #undertale fanfic #undertale fanfiction #toriel #self indulgent self insert fic #trying to keep the chapters around 1800 words long #toriel is so fun to write dialogue for

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dogpalace · 6 years

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M*A*S*H

Petsitting: it’s tiring! But so much fun. I am at Animal Farm right now, winding down a month-long stint. I’ve enjoyed getting up early when the light hits the apartment’s north-facing bedroom windows; doing the pleasant chores of feeding the pets, scooping the litter (yes, pleasant, truly), and walking the dog in the beautiful park across the street. However, last night something threw a spanner in the works. As I relaxed in my bathrobe watching a final DVR’d M*A*S*H episode before bed—more about that soon—Matt called to report that our cat, Williams, was sick again and he wanted me to come over to assess the situation. It sucks being confronted with our pets’ mortality, so much more than with our own, or so I usually believe.

Don’t think me some kind of monster. I have reckoned with human mortality a fair amount recently. Anyone would agree who saw my tweets about my father’s living through Hurricane Maria last fall, which were… lugubrious. In addition, my stepfather Thomas had massively invasive heart surgery at almost the exact same time, the year after having had two brain surgeries to correct a hematoma. (Lots of things happen which I don’t tweet about, guys.) It all was terrifying. But Williams is part of our nuclear family; she’s so close to us, every day, every hour. The threat to our happy routine which her illness poses, then, is not exactly scarier, but scarier in a different, more immediate way.

Of course, though it was midnight, I threw clothes on and took the subway into Brooklyn to tend to Williams. Of course this should happen as I was in the middle of the steamy episode of M*A*S*H where B.J. has an affair with one of the nurses. As I rode home, I thought about TV and all the joy it has brought me, and miraculously was able to put myself in a good mood as I traversed the magical passageway underneath 14th Street that connects the 1,2, and 3 to the L and F.

I can’t believe I’m sitting here about to tell you all that M*A*S*H is good, but I realize I have to. As with most of you, it was in the background of my entire childhood. My dad, who’s a cinematographer, once remarked that the image of the helicopters in the opening credits was a great shot; later that week I saw a helicopter at a cliff’s edge in a Wile E. Coyote cartoon and shouted, “Great shot!” to no one. As I grew I took pleasure in learning all the characters’ names, which was not super easy for a little kid considering they all dressed alike in fatigues, except for Klinger, who was my favorite at that time. At school I once said the words “horse puckey,” lifting the old-timey profanity from Colonel Potter, and was very gently chided.

Then when I was an adult, and more particularly during petsitting jobs like this one where I have access to classic sitcoms on cable, I learned to appreciate it on a different level. Treacle and rapid quips and slapstick and deep emotion, plus a giant helping of antiwar sentiment, packed into a dinky half-hour show with a laugh track. Really good acting: the young Alan Alda at the center with his hair already graying, spouting wisdom in a Groucho voice; but also the broader comedy provided by Jamie Farr in the frocks and Loretta Swit and Larry Linville screeching at each other. Sweet, beatific William Christopher as the holy man. All this and Gary Burghoff, who delivers my favorite performance—Radar O’Reilly is frightened, earnest, and pure of heart though clearly touched in the head. Try re-watching the scene where Radar approaches a bombardier with a Messiah complex and asks him to bless his teddy bear, truly believing the guy is Christ. It will get you, dammit.

I arrived home to find Matt lying on the couch and Williams pacing the floor. A victim of chronic urinary infections, our cat was having a bad flare-up, going in and out of the litter box while crying confusedly. Since it was so late, we decided to wait for the vet visit until the vet was open, rather than spend an extra five hundred bucks or so at the animal ER. There are pre-loaded syringes of cat painkiller at our house, because this happens to her so much, so Matt had dosed her and waited until the crying stopped.

“This is it,” I told Matt. “We aren’t feeding her any more dry food.” With the decisiveness of a military doctor I dumped the bowl’s contents out and replaced them with a fresh lump of wet. Up until then she’d gotten a mixture of the two.

“Wow, look, she’s eating up!” he said after a minute. Williams was standing at the bowl and chomping the wet food with gusto, and even in her doped-up state she ate until it was all gone. Undeniably an excellent sign. Matt then left to help close the bar around the corner from us, and I babysat our cat, though I didn’t do anything at all except sleep near her. A petsitting expert knows that, often, the most important thing is not to leave them alone.

Earlier in the day, I had received an email from one of my old friends, a dogwalking colleague here on the Upper West Side. She told me that another dog walker in the neighborhood, an older man, died last weekend while walking dogs in the park. I remember this man from the years when my route was up there: I didn’t know him well at all, but he was one of the nicest people to greet on the pavement, always wearing a smile, always eager to say hello to a dog or a person. My father is OK for now—he got a flight out of Puerto Rico and decided to stay in New York for the winter. My stepfather is OK for now—his zipper scar will always look gruesome, but it healed. This dog walker, who was a little younger than both of them, didn’t make it.

When Matt came home at 5:00 I woke up, kissed him goodbye and got back on the train. How is Williams now? I haven’t heard anything yet this morning, and I’m hoping no news is good news. I woke up at 7:30 to walk the dog, feed the Animal Farm cats and, cheerfully, scoop the litterbox. Then I wrote this thing you’re reading. Matt told me to say a prayer for her. I’m thinking of the prayer Father Mulcahy said once, that I laughed at as a child, one of the first memories I have of laughing at the TV.

Now I lay me down to sleep,

A bag of peanuts at my feet.

If I should die before I wake,

Give them to my brother Jake.

Now that I have written a shiny new blog post (yay! I thank you for reading it!), I’m going to call Matt for a kitty update, and reassure him that I’m coming home tomorrow to live at our house again. Right after the call I’m going to watch the rest of my M*A*S*H episode to see how it ends for B.J. after his extramarital transgression. I have decided, at least for the next half hour, to be extremely invested in that.

#dog walking #mash #gary burghoff #mike farrell #cat urine #tv land

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fusrodie · 7 years

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1~ 5 sal, 20~28 Kieran, 34 ~37 Evan.

So this one is… Very, very old. I’m sorry it took me so long to answer!

Get to know my character

for Sal:

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded?

Bruno means “brown”, Salvador means “savior”. I don’t exactly like the way it sounds, but I wanted a character whose nickname was Sal, then came the idea of making him Brazilian. I was between either Pablo or Bruno at this point, and Bruno sounds far more like a tupiniquim name. Not to mention, someone I admire greatly is called Bruno, too. Bonus that his name means “brown savior”. I mean look at him. *finger guns*

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

His appearance, though it’s actually both his biggest insecurity and his shield. While he doesn’t exactly stand out in the wasteland, pre-war Bruno was pretty far from the norm. Tattoos, jewelry, weird haircut, black clothes. He didn’t follow that style to stand out, not exactly, but it ended up becoming his weapon to fight against people’s mean comments and his ever present fear of not fitting in.

03. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves?

His hair! He absolutely loves his hair, and this goes for both Companion!Sal and Sole Survivor!Sal. It’s a warm black, wavy, and it looks absolutely amazing because he takes such good care of it.

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical)

Sal doesn’t have a lover in his canon playthrough, but I can talk about Debra, his wife. Physically, he loved her eyes and always said they were very expressive. But he also loved her confidence and determination, and her will to help others, all things he’s never really possessed.

As for AU pairings, there is @trashofthewasteland Michelle - and to be quite honest, he loves everything about her. But physically, I think it’d be how petite she is. It was never something he noticed on women before, particularly because he tends to prefer women who are taller and stronger than him and look like they could kick his ass. It’s strange - the good kind - that despite her being so different from what he’d always admired, he thinks his tiny boss is sublime. He also loves her hands. Don’t ask me why, he just does. Personality wise, he loves that she is genuinely a good person. She seems to have all the kindness in the world inside her heart and he couldn’t do that if he tried.

Bonus Leilani: he finds Lani an absolutely fascinating person to begin with. He feels like he’s finally found someone who understands what he means when he says he thinks in colors. And that’s comforting even though he never thought he’d want to be understood on that regard. He also loves her calm demeanor. Physically? Her eyes. He could stare all night if she’d let him. And her hair.

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type?

A bit of both? He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, so actively looking for sex isn’t happening often unless he’s in a steady relationship. He’s not the sort to look for one night stands. In the rare occasion that he does, he’s not ashamed of it, much less after the initial, possibly awkward stage has passed and it’s time to get down to business. He might get shy at first if it’s someone he really likes/admires, because he doesn’t want to screw things up. He wants things to be special, so he’ll be extra careful.

for Kieran:

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures?

Yes. Let me repeat that: yes. Kieran will tell you he was practically raised by a goat, and it’s true. Don’t ask me how goats survived in post-apocalyptic United States, but I’m calling it now, they survived, and Kieran’s family had a pet one. Her name was Myrtle. But farm animals were the only animals he had around growing up, dogs and cats not being very common in his village. Regardless, he loves all animals, though maybe not deathclaws or things that are bigger than him and have scales.

Radstags are his favorite, and he won’t kill a radstag if he has a choice. They are too adorable for that. He wants to have a pet radstag one day, but for now, he has D’Artagnan, a Maine Coon Cat. Sometimes they hunt together, go hiking together, and D’Artagnan is a big part of the reason why he lives so secluded - he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to that cat. So he’d rather live far from people and somewhere D’Artagnan could hide if faced with danger and Kieran isn’t nearby.21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear?

He’s afraid of tight/closed spaces, and ferals. That’s about it. Ferals he deals with easily enough - an arrow or a bullet, problem solved. Traps places and does his best to avoid them. The one time he got caught, he went into panic mode and doesn’t remember anything that happened after the first shot. Just remembers being back home, tending his wounds, with a lot of blood on his hands.

Regarding interiors/his claustrophobia, he just doesn’t go anywhere that looks cramped and doesn’t have a lot of windows unless he has company. Doesn’t matter if he knows there are things he needs inside. He just won’t go in.

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have?

I haven’t exactly decided on this, but in Skyrim, Kieran has a tattoo he got during his rite of passage with the Skaal - half a sleeve on his left arm. If he has a similar one in Fallout, I don’t know yet. But if there are two things Kieran has aplenty, it’s freckles and scars. You’ll find freckles all over his body, but it’s nowhere near Brandon’s level, for example. They’re mostly on his face and shoulders. As for scars, he has three claw marks on his face from a yao guai attack, claw marks on his back from a feral attack, bullet scars near his shoulder, and also one right between his right thigh and buttock. He got shot in the ass once. He has a bite mark on his ribs (mole rat, he can’t remember how it happened), and a half-moon shaped scar that begins just under his ribs on the left side, and goes down towards his crotch, that he got when he was with the raider gang. He seduced someone he shouldn’t have and they got a little, tiny bit angry when it became clear he didn’t want sex. They ran out of blade before they could do more damage, and he considers himself fairly lucky for it.

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved?

Kieran never went to school, and while he did have people to teach him things, for the most part he didn’t want to learn. He was taught how to read and write, but didn’t learn out of stubbornness and a lack of discipline from his parents. He’d be good with science, though. Maybe philosophy. Wouldn’t do his homework, but wouldn’t misbehave.

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like?

Fair warning, you would have a hard time getting Kieran to stop talking about them.

He wouldn’t shut up about how determined @njadastonearm Toni is - and how strong willed, and clever, and brave, and beautiful. I don’t think he’d ever vocalize it without some serious preparation beforehand, but she inspires him to try and do something out of his life. Here’s a woman that left her past behind, found herself a goal and went after it. That’s something he never had the courage to do, because he never managed to move on and still dwells in the past. Toni might be scared her past will catch up with her, yes, but she’s never let it stop her. He did. Being with her helps him learn a lot on how to do what he wants to do, rather than what he feels like he should be doing.

As for @mininuked Ahn - he sees that woman as a fucking goddess. A goddess of war, because he thinks she’s so goddamn badass. They butt heads sometimes, they learn together how to talk about their feelings, but there’s something about her that makes him feel like it’ll be worth all the trouble. She makes him want to try and that’s something no one had ever managed before. He feels like she gets him - they have the same interests, hobbies, they even have some of the same problems. She doesn’t have the answers, but it’s comforting to have someone to share the journey with. He’s used to being the rock for everyone - the one safe, solid thing people can count on. But with Ahn, for once he feels like he has someone strong and solid to support him.

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day?

Losing his sister. He never talks about it openly, and has never told anyone his side of the story. If pressed, he will actually give you his father’s, and consequently his village’s take on it: he sold out. His sister’s boyfriend found out about it. Kieran killed them both and dumped the bodies somewhere snowy and dark so they wouldn’t be found. Feral ghouls attacked him when he went back to check on the bodies for whatever reason.

The truth is quite a bit different: Saoirse’s boyfriend got in with a gang from Quebec - the same gang Kieran would ultimately join. His ticket in would be selling out the village, and the raiders promised they’d just rob them all blind but leave everyone alive. Kieran happened to witness a conversation in which said boyfriend revealed his plans - but after that, he has no idea what happened. He notices the two have disappeared one early morning and tracks them, only to find their bodies dumped in the aforementioned snowy, dark place, half buried and half eaten. He is then attacked by ferals who almost kill him. He reports back as quickly as he can, and is accused by his father of having killed his sister to take her place as the next village leader. Given he had some shady dealings with traders from nearby settlements, his reputation with his people wasn’t stellar at the time. Having someone as important as his father blaming him made it worse. He never tried to tell his version - he simply accepted his exile and left his family behind.

He still has nightmares with feral ghouls, and even though she was already dead when he got there, he swears he can hear Saoirse screaming sometimes. He feels like their deaths were his responsibility, and never forgave himself for it. This is why he lives in seclusion and, despite being a sociable, friendly man who loves talking to people, punishes himself by staying as far away as he can and never truly making friends.26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc?

I’m going to give more of a generic answer here because Kieran is a curious creature. He doesn’t know himself well, sexually in particular. Practically speaking, this means he will always put his partner first, and rarely stops to consider what he actually likes. That “I’m so used to giving and now I finally get to receive” meme? Kieran, only until his love interests (Toni, Ahn) came along he’d never had anyone care about his pleasure. Not even himself. So whatever his lovers want, he will accommodate and do what it takes to please them. It’s important to note that he does it because he likes to, though. He’s not putting up with anything, he is just a genuinely accepting person who respects people and tries his best to make them happy.

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it?

I have a hard time imagining Kieran getting arrested. Brandon? Hell, even Evangeline, but not Kieran. The only way he’d get arrested is if a) someone truly manages to piss him off enough for him to beat them up, or b) if a friend he really likes does something stupid and he plays along.

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for?

Realistically, I’d say his looks. But if he had a say in it, he’d like to become famous for his cooking. Cooking show shot in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Treats his guests like Gordon Ramsay treats children. A delight, really.

for Evan:

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc)

Pre-war, Evangeline is addicted to baked sweets (cookies, cakes, pies) and noodles. Post-war, she refuses to eat anything pre-war for fear of getting seriously sick, but will cave if offered Sugar Bombs. She is also a big fan of mutfruit. Preston introduces her to mirelurk meat - and she loves it. She hates mirelurks, got seriously injured by one at some point; so eating the flesh of her enemies gives her a strange sense of accomplishment. Veni, vidi, vici, motherfucker.

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go?

She is and then she is not. She hates the idea of her death being meaningless, something stupid or unimportant. Because she gives it her all to try and make a difference, so if her death just slipped under everybody’s radar, that means she hasn’t done enough. There will come a time, though, when she will be satisfied with the work she’s done in the Commonwealth. Then it will stop having such a meaning - and her fearing death will be because she doesn’t want to let go of the life she’s managed to build for herself.36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life?

Not exactly. Sometimes her left hand hurts a lot, because she once managed to stick a needle inside it while sewing. Other than that, she managed to stay perfectly healthy even after leaving the vault. Somehow.

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

She… Really likes to color code things. It annoys her a lot to see things being organized with no obvious pattern to it.

#oc talk #sal sinclair #kieran murray #evangeline pierce #thank you and i'm sorry again #uglehcat

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awkwardlyamusing-blog · 5 years

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Dogs rescued from Asia in need of forever homes

New Post has been published on http://doggietrainingclasses.com/dogs-rescued-from-asia-in-need-of-forever-homes/

Dogs rescued from Asia in need of forever homes

For Tracy Harachi, a desire to help elephants in Asia led to another passion: rescuing dogs.

Since 2014, she and her husband Nathan Yoffa have volunteered at the Elephant Nature Park in northern Thailand every year. The 150-acre sanctuary is home to 500 dogs and more than 40 elephants. Over the past five years, the Orcas Island couple has adopted their own dogs (and cats) from the sanctuary and transported dozens to the United States.

“I’ve been [a] flight volunteer for over 25 dogs from the Elephant Nature Park to help them get to their forever homes,” said Harachi, who is a professor at the University of Washington and travels to Cambodia, which borders Thailand, for social work. “Some have overnighted with me in Seattle, and then I’ve gotten them to their cargo flight to fly on to their final destination.”

Harachi partners with a woman in Portland, Oregon, who has also volunteered at the elephant sanctuary. She helps find foster families and adoptive parents for the animals, some of whom have physical handicaps and behavioral issues.

“I’ve offered assistance to share about dog behavior, training tips to try to make the transition go more smoothly,” Harachi said. “People ask why fly dogs over, but I help dogs anywhere, including locally having helped adopt multiple seniors who lived out their lives on Orcas.”

Harachi and Yaffa currently have a Cambodian street cat named Takeshi and dogs SeeKao and Boon Ngaam, both of whom were paraplegic. Through medical procedures, physical therapy and a lot of dedication, they both can walk, although Boon Ngaam still uses an underwater treadmill to develop the connection between her brain and legs.

All three animals are the best of friends although Takeshi is the boss of the entire household. In addition to her canine work, Harachi collaborates with a rescue shelter to take kittens and cats dumped at the pagoda near her hotel to get vaccinated and spayed or neutered.

“On occasion a few have wiggled their way into my heart and managed to hitch a ride back to Seattle,” she said.

Dogs currently in need of homes

Harachi brought back 4-year-old Pespi from the elephant park this past November, and he is still looking for a family to adopt him. He is 40 pounds and up to date on his shots and dental care. Pepsi lived in a run with dogs Woofoo and Kailey, who passed away last year.

“An escape plan was hatched to bring Pepsi and his pal Woofoo to the Pacific Northwest and help them join a forever home before it was too late. Woofoo found a home and is adopted in Seattle,” Harachi said.

Pepsi is easygoing, loves people and did well during a recent meet and greet with small children. He is currently living in a foster home in Portland, Oregon, with another dog, though ideally he’d be the only one in a household as he is described as “more of a people dog.”

Eight-year-old Jacky was born during the Bangkok floods in 2011, but remains very active. Jacky and her mother were rescued from the water and eventually brought to the elephant sanctuary. She initially lived in a run like Pepsi, but she is terrified of thunder and lightening and tried to escape, so she became one of the roaming animals on the property.

“She, too, is a people dog, preferring the company of her humans,” notes Harachi. “She currently does have two dog friends who live nearby who she gets to go on pack walks with. She can initially be fearful of a new dog, but if they are appropriately behaving dogs then she can be around them. She currently lives with a cat. She is likely to want to chase after a deer, and like most Asian street dogs should not be left out loose and expected to be able to hang around unsupervised.”

Some of the animals that Harachi transports are rescued from the meat trade. According to Humane Society International, 30 million dogs and 10 million cats are killed annually for human consumption across Asia. The animals are crowded onto trucks, where they endure dehydration, starvation, exposure to extreme cold and heat, broken limbs, shock and disease. They are typically killed by being electrocuted, bludgeoned or hanged.

“Across Asia, there is increasingly vocal local opposition to this trade due to cruelty, criminality and human health concerns. Dog meat is mainly, but not exclusively, eaten by older, male consumers under the misapprehension of health benefits,” according to www.hsi.org. “The Yulin festival in China is a dog-meat focused event. More dog meat is consumed during Bok Nal than during other times of year in South Korea. The World Health Organization warns that the trade, slaughter and consumption of dogs poses human health risks from trichinellosis, cholera and rabies. Dog meat bans exist in Hong Kong, the Philippines, Taiwan, Thailand and Singapore; most recently, Indonesia pledged support for a ban.”

Harachi says the dog meat trade is also present in Cambodia. She and a network of animal rescuers have mapped out locations of restaurants, breeders and slaughterhouses and post regularly on social media to raise awareness among local Cambodians.

She is hoping to find an adoptive family for Toby, who was rescued from the Korean dog meat market. He is having a difficult time finding a home off the island due to his size.

“Many interested people have weight restrictions at their apartment or condo,” Harachi said. “That’s really not a situation on Orcas so maybe there is a forever home on the islands for this sweet pooch. Despite being abused and literally on the way to the slaughter house, Toby is chill, likes humans — even children — and other dogs.”

Toby is a Tosa, also known as a Korean mastiff. They are considered gentle giants, and are often bred in dog farms because of their meat tenderness. Toby was found tied up outside, severely abused and neglected, and about to be sold to the slaughterhouse. He was rescued by the Jindo Love network, a group of volunteers focused on the dog meat trade in Korea, a year ago. He is now 85 pounds and around 5 years old. His foster mom Crystal Nam sponsored his transport to Seattle.

“Despite his beginnings, all he had was love in his heart. Fast forward to today, he is healthy and just waiting for his forever home and people,” writes Nam. “People often ask or challenge me on why I care so much about saving dogs overseas, there are so many more right here at home that need homes too. Yes, that’s true. There are problems everywhere and I know I can’t save every dog in the world. I care about this cause, because the plight of dogs in Asia and other countries is significantly worse. Governments, policies and cultural practices resist or prevent change.”

If you are interested in meeting Pepsi, Jacky or Toby, email Harachi at [email protected].

Carol Whitfield, Clooney Dog and Friends/contributed photo Tracy Harachi and Nathan Yoffa with their animals from Asia.

Pepsi

Toby just after he was rescued.

Source link Dog Training Tips

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[HR] HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER HOLIDAYS

It was the last day of term at school before we broke for the summer and Mr. McCarthy had caught me letting off smoke bombs in the boy’s toilets and almost choking Harry Riederschmidt into an asthma attack.

The fire services and paramedics had to be called and I was caught outside the Gents holding the bag of artillery that McMillan had given me. McCarthy’s face was that of a beetroot left out to dry in the sun.

McCarthy was always coming down on me as hard as he possibly could; with his abusive name-calling:

“You stupid boy.” He’d say with utter contempt pouring out of his voice because I was doing something trivial like walking too fast in the hallways or my shit was un-tucked.

“Tuck that shirt in you stupid boy.” He’d hiss.

This time however, I had over-stepped our cold adversarial relationship with my prank and Carfy (that was the prick’s nickname amongst the students) now had something to demolish me with.... I was fucked. I’d contaminated the school and nearly killed a fellow pupil.

An hour passed and the smoke cleared. And Carfy dragged me into his office by my tie and his ultimatum to me was simple, while I sat there fake crying and pleading ignorance:

“Usually we expel boys for this Misha. I am sure you understand that you have made your attendance at St. Matthew’s Roman Comprehensive as completely untenable.”

Carfy walked to the window for dramatic effect pulled down the blinds. That’s all this guy was beyond the headmaster/military role he tried to cultivate – he was just a dramatist continuously searching for that sense of theatrics. I am just a 15 year-old kid; why doesn’t he make his power-plays on somebody that could give this guy a challenge:

“But I see something in you. I see something there... And I want to give you once last chance to get it out of you. What you did was criminal, dangerous and against the ethics of this school. But I am going to do something I have never done. I am going to give you a chance at redemption.”

Fucking miracle. I was saved by this prick:

“If you can write for me a report – four thousand words maximum about what you learned over this summer break. If you can get that back to me and I see some spirit in this piece; then you can finish your education here. And not become like the rest of the Cockburn family.”

So here is my story about how I spent my summer holidays and I hope to God saved my arse from expulsion:

***

It’s not that I don’t want to go back to school – I do – a lot. I know the mistakes my family made with their education and I don’t want to be an adult in the kind of broken home I was raised in. I want to be a filmmaker when I grow up and see the words DIRECTED BY MISHA COCKBURN up there on the big screen; a name in lights.

But the pressure of having to write about what I did, to save my education, I found overwhelming. I spent most of my time at the start of that summer playing video games and staring up into the ceiling just trying to conjure up some bullshit story about learning my lesson to give to Carfy... Turns out there was a story just waiting for me after all.

***

“Honey, I am going to Lisbon with Luis for the rest of the summer and I can’t take you with me. I am sending you to your dad’s.” My mum said.

I hadn’t seen my dad since I could remember and he had never wanted me around. But I guess my mum wanted a summer seeing her new lover and what she didn’t want was the additional baggage of her 15 year old delinquent son.

My mum always put her new man first and foremost over her only child and I didn’t mind spending time with Aunt Mary, Grandma Linda and Uncle Steve but seeing my father filled me with dread and trepidation; it was like spending my summer in a stranger’s house. A stranger with a reputed personality disorder – if you believe my mother’s stories.

“But I don’t want to go to Dad’s. Can’t I stay somewhere else?” I tried to argue back.

“You have any idea how much money and time and arguments I had to have with lawyers and courts to arrange this for you. You selfish little bastard,” she screamed back, “just like your father!”

***

She didn’t waste any time dropping me off, and it was a 4 hours drive to the farm my dad had inherited from his dad and then my mother had to speed off to catch her evening flight.

She couldn’t even look at my father. Didn’t say hello, didn’t say goodbye and there was no advisory words on my favourite foods, my routine, my favourite TV shows and how to take care of me.

“Hi son.” Dad said with a broad smile.

Here he was. I could barely remember how this man looked, I felt like I was looking at a stranger, standing outside a property I’d never been to, in the middle of nowhere, in a town I’d never been inside before.

“Hi Dad.” I smiled back awkwardly.

“Who was the spic?” He said.

“That’s my mum’s new boyfriend Luis. He doesn’t talk to me much.”

“Looks like a cunt.” My dad said.

***

My dad showed me around the property. It was a farm but it was a disused farm. My dad couldn’t afford to keep the animals and maintenance going, he told me, so he just burned the livestock in the barn, a huge pile of ash and destroyed hooves still visible and instead he just lived here, letting the farm fall apart around him. The rot between his toes.

The barn was decomposing before your very eyes; the rain having turned most of the wood and structure to mould and mush, if you touched the outside frame you’d feel all the soft sludge of dead-wood.

The house was a four-bedroom brick-top structure with a quaint English countryside feel to it, but the inside was a decapitated mess with beer cans and broken plates sprawled all across the floor and dust particles suffocating the air. And then he took me to ‘my room’:

“I saved this just for you,” he said, “just in case...”

As he opened the door, I was shocked that it was actually cleaned, well-maintained and almost comfy-looking. It had a laptop, a television, a velvet sofa and a lamp by the bedside along with a bookcase. It was the kind of space I’d been looking for my entire life.

“If you are like me. You’ll need your space and your tranquillity and I’d imagine you want to spend a lot of time in this room.” He said.

I think I had no choice but to spend time in this room – there was nothing else.

“By the way; out here there’s no internet but the laptop has loads of games. Do you like to play games?” He asked.

“It’s about all I do.” I said.

***

We sat down for dinner and my dad had made an effort to clean most of the debris in the kitchen, but I could still see the dust particles polluting the air in the room. He’d made a simple dinner of egg, beans and bread.

“I don’t want you to feel like this isn’t your home Misha but I got a watering hole, kind of like a well behind that barn, across the field.” He said.

“Yeah?” I said.

“It’s very dangerous anyway. Lots of children used to fall in it when my dad owned this place, kids died in there apparently and lots of bad omens with the well. Main point is that it is very very dangerous. Go anywhere you want on this land but do not go near the well.” He said.

“Dad, I am fifteen and I am not stupid enough to get caught in a...” I said.

“...There’s no rules in this house, you are at home, and after all I had to fight with your mother to get you here...” He said.

“She said she had to fight with you and the courts?” I said.

“...But you are never ever to go near that well.” He finished.

I didn’t care about some fucking well anyway. I didn’t care about what was behind the barn. I just wanted to do my time in this dump and try to save my schooling.

“Dad, does that laptop have Microsoft Office?” I said.

“Never go near that well Misha.” He said lifting up his knife towards me.

He wasn’t even listening to me.

***

On the first night, the farm produced those country noises that are usually drowned out in the cities. The hoots of owls, the shrieks of night-birds and the cat-calls of the fox – it was the organic world singing. I was sure I would grow accustomed to them, but on my first night I hated them.

Now I don’t know how voices carried so far in this type of landscape but I could hear voices, female voices. Scattering and desperate voices, gently whispering in the dead night. It must be from the next farm over – an actual working farm.

I was awoken at about four-am and the night was still black. I turned to look outside of the window and I could see the silhouette of my father across the land walking briskly to the back of the barn – near the ‘death-well’. He was carrying a bucket of water which I could hear splashing on the grass. My father had a hunched posture that you could identify a mile off.

When he returned I could hear the clang and clatter of the empty bucket. I rolled back over in bed and wondered how I was related to such a strange man. I thought about what Mr. McCarthy said about the Cockburn and the prejudices that the name must carry with those who meet us.

***

“Dad, why do you leave late at night with a bucket of water? It’s happened on three nights now?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” My dad said, spittle of breakfast incredulously jumping from his mouth.

“I kept seeing you walking across the grass with water.” I ask.

“You’re dreaming son.” He said.

“I’ve seen it.” I said.

“What? I can’t fucking water my own plants.” He said, slamming his cutlery down and walking off.

***

The female voices continued every evening and sounded more hurried and desperate every night. I pictured a neighbouring farm with a population of young girls milking the cows, ploughing the fields and breaking a sweat in the summer sun while erotically maintaining the farm. The sweat clinging to their short tank-tops.

But every time I heard those female whispers, I was taken out of my fantasies and disturbed by my father, hunched over a bucket of water and walking angrily towards the back of the barn. Dad returning with the empty bucket clanging against his legs.

Every night and every sleep-infused fantasy was some kind of strange déjà vu tinged with the whispers of women and the pouring of buckets of water. I wondered if the farm was driving me insane or maybe I was unsettled with the stranger I was calling dad.

***

One night I decided to follow those voices. Who knows – maybe it was some erotic female sex-cult and I could have something to tell my friends about once I got out of here. I put on my shoes, I put on a t-shirt and slid Brylcreem greasily across my hair and as I opened my door, my father’s hunched figure was there.

“Where are you going at this time son?” He said smiling.

“Well, I just wanted to explore the grounds a bit more.” I said.

“In the middle of the night?” He said.

“Well yeah, can I not?” I said.

“Now what kind of father would I be if I agreed to let you out at three-am?” He said, patting me on the head.

“I’m bored.” I said.

“If you’re bored then you can sleep or play one of those games or read one of the books I spent all my money on getting you”. He said.

“Yeah but dad...”

“Let me ask you something son. Does your mother let her fifteen-year old son go out in the middle of the night?” He asked.

“No...” I said.

“I have to say, I am unsure what kind of father I would be if I didn’t follow the precedents set by your mother.” He said.

“But she’s a terrible mother.” I said.

“Yes, I can see that now in how spoilt you have become.” He said.

“I can do what I want.” I said, recalcitrance rising in my voice.

“Let me rephrase this entire conversation son. Go back into your room, sit in your bed and go to sleep – before I decide to cave in your fucking face you little cunt.” He said – still smiling, still agreeable in tone.

With those words, I was back in bed.

***

With that, I decided I’d explore this in the daytime. Fuck him and fuck his fucking watering hole bullshit.

I packed a bag of books, bread and Coca-Cola cans to throw him off the idea that I was staying local but even when I told him I was going to find the town shops and library; I was still met with a cynical glare and about a hundred questions.

What was this man hiding? Did he have a problem with me finding the neighbouring farm? See what all the noises in the middle of the night were? Was he keeping the female sex farming cult to himself?

“You come back here before the sun goes down and I will make sure there’s a roast turkey dinner waiting for you. Is that a deal son?” He said.

The food had been so bad since I got here, bread and beans and eggs every single night. I was actually excited at the thought of a proper meal and a proper roast. I knew he was putting some bait out for me but I had lost so much weight since I’d been staying here I was willing to take it.

“Yes, definitely.” I said and I meant it.

I wondered around the back of the barn and I could see the well just sticking out of the ground. It didn’t look so ominous but I didn’t fancy just diving into it. I decided I’d follow the brick road that was surrounding it and see if there was some way to enter it from somewhere else.

The footprints and footpath had lead me off the farm and round the side, by the woodlands. There was a small lake with a small flow of rain water and I walked across the side of the lake following the flow.

I walked for maybe five minutes and there was this huge piece of thick ply wood beyond the small lake and it was perfectly covered with dead leaves and tree bark, there was a wooden spike poking into the mud, like a location marker.

It was almost off the actual property of the farm but not quite. The footpath was just before the main road and I think we were still officially on ‘Cockburn territory’.

I put my foot under the plywood and it was loose. It was the strangest thing; my feet could feel this metallic gate under the wood. I tried to move it some more but it was too heavy with just my foot, so I crawled onto my stomach and decided to push the entire thing. That took some force and as it moved I heard feet running towards me:

“Is that David?” A voice said.

“No.” I said.

“Oh my god, somebody has come. Down here!” A girl’s voice said.

The plywood finally moved and I was covered in mud and filth in the process and what I was staggered to see was a large metallic gate covering a sort of manhole that went down about 10-feet. Beyond that was like a sewer system of something.

Underneath the gate were two women, drenched in water and mud. The water levels covered half of their torsos and there was a small flooding inside the manhole. It looked like water was being poured into the hole.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“We’re trapped under here. We have been for like a year. It’s the man at that farm, calls himself David, he’s crazy. He’s got us trapped down here.” The taller, blonde woman said frantically – her voice laced with relief.

“That’s my father.” I said.

They paused for a moment and stared at each other from within the hole.

“He’s got us trapped in here.” She screamed back.

“Bullshit, you’re just lost in the sewers and you’ve gone crazy.” I said.

“It’s not a sewer – it’s a dungeon!” The other girl screamed.

I felt the metallic gate and there was a huge padlock on it and I tried to move it and it wouldn’t budge an inch – they were locked all right.

“Call the police.” One of the girls screamed.

“What are your names?” I asked.

“Bianca Foreman and she’s Tanya Nixon.” Bianca shouted.

“And how long have you been missing for?” I asked.

“I don’t know – a year!” Bianca shouted back.

“So if I Google you two. It shows that you are missing?” I asked.

“Yes!” Bianca screamed.

I shushed her – fully aware how voices travel in this place.

“Ok.” I said, still trying to piece this together.

“Don’t Google us, just call for help!” Bianca screamed.

I wanted to go. Explain to my dad that the mud up my shirt was from hiking and pretend that this whole incident didn’t happen. I wanted to be back home with my mum more than ever.

“I will come back for help.” I said; still unsure if I meant it or not and I replaced the manhole cover again.

I heard the words please ring out as the wood covered the hole.

***

I got my mediocre turkey dinner –and I explained to my dad some bullshit about how I went deer-spotting in the woods and fell into the lake and that’s why I came back caked in mud. About halfway through dinner my dad’s frustration clearly overcame him and it was time to have a talk.

“You disobeyed me son.” He said.

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“You went down to that well. Saw my girls.” He said.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I said..

“You Google them did you? Find the missing person articles about them like they asked?” He said.

“I can’t Google anything – we don’t have any internet.” I said.

“That’s right. And you can’t call the police either can you? You don’t have a phone.” He said.

“Nope.” I said and I stared up hard at him; willing to meet his challenge. I stared like I was just as tough and just as unhinged as he could be. He dropped his gaze and continued eating.

We continued the meal in silence and I felt this strange feeling of being equally appalled but intrigued as to how and why my own father had two girls trapped in a dungeon within the confides of his property. I remember reading about people like that sicko in Austria and that guy in Florida that had girls locked up in some basement and I guess my dad had the same perversion.

My dad walked towards me with a bottle in his hand.

“You ever drank wine before son?” He said gently – leaning over me.

He poured me a glass. He turned to me and smiled, and it was one of the first times one of his smiles wasn’t laced with contempt and deceit.

“You know what it is son. It’s a sickness. A need to dominate and control. It’s why me and your mother never worked out. But I tell you something. It’s like a drug when you have it. When you have those little girls staring up at you and you have the entire fate of their worlds at your fingertips – it’s marvellous. It’s a great feeling and I absolutely love it. I am in control of them but I am out of control of myself. Don’t judge me just yet son – find out what I am talking about.” He said.

He took the wine he’d poured me and helped himself to a sip.

“But why?” I asked.

“Because I have a need to dominate and control and these girls were unlucky enough to cross my path. That’s all I can say. I am not a monster but I have unique needs.” He said.

I took a large gulp of the wine. My first ever.

“Let me ask you something son. You ever feel like you wish you had more control of things?” He said with a raised eyebrow.

I always did and always wanted to.

***

It was the middle of the night and I climbed out the window and ran across the grasslands and back to the plywood cover. I knew the girls were up because I could again hear the whispering but I wanted to get there before my father did this time. I used all of my strength to pull the wood back and stare down at these two innocent young victims. It almost broke my heart. I pulled on the metal gate and pulled on the padlock – stuck.

“I don’t have a phone, so I have to go into town to get help, if you want.” I said.

They stared up at me. Big white eyes reflecting against the glare of the moon. I was staring into hope and innocence and turning away from the darkness. This was the redemption Carfy talked about.

“We can’t wait. We need to get out of here. I hate it here so much, it’s so hard.” Tanya said and she started to cry. Bianca put an arm round Tanya – a familiar scene I was sure.

“I know. I know. But don’t cry.” I said weakly.

I put my hand through the metal gates and they both reached up to touch me. Probably the first time they’d touched another person in a year – we were so close to the touch and for them it must have meant so much.

I took a step back and I picked up the bucket I’d just filled with water and I poured it all over them and laughed uncontrollably. They were screaming and crying in hysterics.

My dad was right – it felt so good.

I could hear the screaming and imploring as I put the manhole cover back over their frightened, scared and destroyed faces – the darkness cascading over them. And I felt so powerful at the annihilation of their hope.

In the distance as I walked back towards the barn I could see my father and he looked proud of me, as I got closer he puts his arm around me and said:

“I am glad we could finally agree on something son.”

“I am probably not going to school after this summer dad, so maybe I could stay here with you and help you man the farm.” I said.

He paused and I could hear our steps crushing against the dead grass.

“I think we have some serious catching up to do .” He said with a sad sigh.

I felt maybe it was time to open up to him after he was so honest and open with me. Maybe, it was time to actually allow a parent I can relate to back into my life. To talk to someone and get out of myself all of my frustrations and angers.

“I’ve got this teacher, I really fucking hate.” I said.

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chillieandrum · 6 years

Text

Meet Yogi.One of the thousands of dumped, neglected and abused dogs of Sri Lanka. Cute don’t you think? Could you walk past and leave her starving on the side of the road? Step over and pretend she’s not dying of hunger? Well, many like her suffer daily while people walk past and do just that – nothing. Even worse, many puppies (and kittens) are deliberately dumped along busy roads, at temples or in the jungle by careless owners who don’t have their dogs neutered or vaccinated. Other “luckier” dogs, who’ve somehow managed to survive past infancy, have to face the risks of speeding buses, trucks and tuktuks, most of whom don’t slow down or deliberately drive at the dogs. Or when they become a “nuisance”, they get chased away with rocks and fire crackers. It may seem unbelievable, but this is the reality hundreds of dogs face on a daily basis in Sri Lanka.

Yes – this is the island that sells itself as the “Pearl of the Indian Ocean”. Idyllic beaches, nature parks, temples and tea plantations. Sun, surf and happiness. But look a little harder through your coconut cocktail tinged glasses and you’ll see the vast number of neglected, abandoned and abused dogs. Strays that nobody wants and very few care for. There are an estimated 3 million street dogs, surviving on scraps and the mercy of a handful of kind people. Tourists often avoid them like the plague for fear of picking up some heinous “disease” and the locals chase them away because they actually just don’t give a damn.

Yogi was dumped on the side of the road at about 10 weeks old, weighing almost 1.3 kgs, badly malnourished, severely dehydrated, neglected, infected with mange and babesia, which can be fatal if not treated. This is the plight of thousands of dogs in Sri Lanka.

We came across Yogi while driving along a potholed road in a farming community on the outskirts of a village called Komari, on the east coast of Sri Lanka. Not far from the increasingly popular surfers hangout of Arugam Bay. She was a small, grubby bundle of patchy fur stumbling through the bushes on the side of the road. We stopped and gave her the only thing we had in the car at the time – a yoghurt drink, which she slurped up frantically. We initially thought that she may have strayed from one of the homes close by – dogs like this are common place here. We were headed into a nearby village and thought if she was still there when we returned in a short while – we would take her with us, but she was nowhere to be seen when we returned.

It rained that night and I was worried that she wouldn’t survive unless she had found her way “home”. Sadly that was not to be – we went to the same spot the following morning and found her lying in a crumpled heap on the edge of the road – as if she had crawled there in a last desperate attempt to be noticed and saved, but Tuk Tuks and motorbikes were casually cruising past without a second glance. Thinking she might be near dead, I tried lifting her to her feet but her legs just collapsed. Picking her up and running from house to house to ask if anyone owned her, we were just met with shoulder shrugs and total disinterest. This was not surprising. We brought her back to our hut and fed her some buffalo curd and banana. She was dying but still had a fiesty will to survive.

We took her to a local “vet”, which is not common in this area and when you do find one its usually a livestock vet with very little interest in dogs. The woman reluctantly lifted Yogi’s eyelid, mentioning the obvious that she was dehydrated and handed over worm tablets and a multivitamin syrup and sent us on our way.

Despite our attempts to fatten and clean Yogi up so that she would look more appealing to any potential adoptee parents, nobody was interested. This feisty little creature was already barking at the bigger dogs after just a few days of care and food. Our attempts at contacting animal rescue groups in Colombo to take her in, were futile. Inundated with daily calls for help, they are all already under so much pressure and pushed to their limits, both financially and in terms of numbers they can handle.

Yogi started looking a little stronger and we decide to use the recommended dosage for deworming. This turned out to be a big mistake – a few hours later, with a rectal prolapse and looking like all her intestines were about to leave her body we knew we had to get her off to a proper vet if she was to stand any chance of surviving.

Racing towards Colombo, our desperate calls were heeded by Animal SOS Sri Lanka, who offered to take her in despite their resources being beyond capacity and strained financially. This was her only chance, she was so weak in the car and wouldn’t drink anything and once again we thought she would die.

250 kms and 6 hours of non stop driving like a deranged local bus driver we arrived near the surfing hotspot of Midigama. We were met with some of the Animal SOS staff and vets, who treated Yogi with such care and a genuine concern for her well being. A few tests later and she was diagnosed with Babesia, but they refused to give up on her. We realised later on that this is their approach to every animal that comes in there. They will do everything possible against all odds. Despite a very shaky start and doubts about her strength, Yogi pulled through, but sadly many don’t.

Beach dogs, street dogs, jungle dogs – call them what they may, nobody wants to take responsibility for them and that a volunteer organisation like this has to pick up the pieces is disgraceful. Many local organisations are unwilling to help and the locals consider them a nuisance factor. The Government solution is to “destroy” the street dogs.

Animal SOS, Sri Lanka, is a free ranging sanctuary, working tirelessly around the clock to save and rehabilitate so many desperate dogs and cats. They also operate neutering/rabies vaccination programmes in the local area, adoption schemes and animal welfare education amongst others. They are a charity funded rescue centre and for more info on what they do and how you can help please read this.

Mahatma Gandhi said ‘The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated”. You have a long way to go Sri Lanka.

For a country that is 70% Buddhist they seem to have lost touch with the essence of their belief system. One of the key teachings of Buddhism about animals are, “Animals and humans share the same essential nature. We are not a separate class of beings to whom a separate class of ethical rules applies. The highest Buddhist virtue is compassion, which we are to show to all sentient beings at all times.” Somehow that compassion is massively lacking amongst a lot of people. Unless you think its kind and compassionate to lock away your child or grandmother in a cage all day, or throw stones at helpless strangers?

If you are in the Midigama area, please pop in and visit Animal SOS. You will be amazed at the incredible work they do. They do need your help and no amount is ever too small to make a difference. Please see what you can do to help here. Thanks to AnimalSOS-Sri Lanka for saving Yogi and so many other lives!

Yogi when we found her

Yogi 6 weeks later

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The shameful neglect and abuse of Sri Lanka’s abandoned dogs. Meet Yogi.One of the thousands of dumped, neglected and abused dogs of Sri Lanka. Cute don’t you think?

#Abandoned Dogs #Adopt Don&039;t Shop #Animal Abuse #Animal Rescue #AnimalSOS-SriLanka #Dog Sanctuary #Rescue Dogs #Save a street pooch #Sri Lanka #Street Dogs #travel

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deadcactuswalking · 6 years

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PROMISE ME NO PROMISES -- THE TOP 10 WORST HIT SONGS OF 2017

Let’s just get on with it. I’ll be less intricate and eloquent here – I’m just going to rip and tear into all these songs. Hello and welcome to...

THE TOP TEN WORST HIT SONGS OF 2017

I would give you dishonourable mentions but I feel there isn’t much here that is truly terrible enough to be noted other than the songs on the list so let’s just get straight into it!

#10

Have you ever hurt so much, physically or emotionally, that the only thing you can do is yell and yell, like a primal release of your...

PAIN!

#10 – Imagine Dragons – “Believer”

There are many, many elements in this song that mesh together like an insipid soup of gouged eyeballs, but on their own are more like slightly expired cheese strings – just that right balance of annoying, gross and still kind of okay, so much that you just don’t notice it if you don’t pay much attention. Let me tell you how about every single one of them:

1) What on earth is that percussion? This was supposed to be powerful but just sounds like the drummer fell asleep on his drum kit, with the bassist swirling his head around when needs be so he can hit the right drums.

2) The buzzing synth that is ever so subtle but ever so murderously annoying.

3) Dan Reynolds’ vocal inflections and singing – we’ll talk about those later.

4) The backing vocals sounding like wolves howling so weakly you’d think they’re in...

PAIN!

5) That.

6) The fact that Dan makes a weak attempt at rapping.

7) The lyrics making next to no sense and having next to no structure.

8) The whole point of the grating-as-all-hell chorus being so it can have that pause and dramatic drop for a movie trailer.

9) The fact that it’s still insanely catchy despite all these flaws.

10) And finally, the collision of all these intestine-munching parasites in the stomach-curling hell of a final chorus, with even more of those shrill additional vocals from the rest of the fantasy dragons that sound like a choir straight out of Robot Hell.

God, and this is only #10.

This will be unpopular. Very unpopular.

#9 – SZA – “Love Galore” featuring Travis Scott

Let’s talk about how much of an autotuned non-prescience Travis Scott is. He sounds like he’s been drowned out entirely by his own waves of sing-rapping. Not to say SZA’s inflections and melody aren’t any more annoying. The “love” melody is, I swear, one of the worst melodies I’ve heard all year. SZA has a faux-Jamaican accent thing going on, which wouldn’t be bad if it weren’t so obnoxious. Those effects piled onto her vocals aren’t doing her any favours, either. The worst part of this song is not Travis and it’s not SZA. It’s the production. The minimalistic, boring production in the intro leads to a bass-boosted apple-picking session where the apples are filled with helium, the tree is shaking and I have a knife to my throat. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. I would put this in a tied entry higher on the list but I can’t deny the harmony later into the song and Travis’ adlibs are always a treat, honestly. Ya! I don’t know why, but I love them. You could say I low-oh-low-ah-oh-love them. I’m sorry, everyone who like this – and I know, there’s a lot of them – but I’m not a fan.

[chuckling and snickering]

#8 – Drake – “Fake Love”

[bursts out laughing] This song is probably too hilarious to hate, but it’s so pathetic that I just had to put it on here. If you like subtly autotuned wailing leaping out of Drake’s confused, blurred mess of a vocal performance, over steel pans and trap percussion, you’re in luck.

Whole time, they wanna take my place / Whole time, they wanna take my place

That falsetto sounds like a whimpering child whose sandcastle just got stomped on. It’s somehow both cute and ear-shredding.

I’ve been down so long

You were never down; in fact, we’re damn near sick of you, Drake. You don’t sound like you were on any type of downer when you recorded this though. The sheer emotion in his vocals is clear, but they’re not very good at all. They just aren’t, and I can’t listen to this song without clocking a smile. When I’m sad, I put this song on. It’s that depressingly hilarious.

Fake people showing fake love to me / Straight up to my face

The lyrics to this are blunt but fragile, and are actually a beautiful set of lyrics that really capture Drake’s anger – are people showing him fake love? Probably not, but he’s so paranoid that they are. It’s a great set of lyrics, but Drake’s delivery is equivalent to a parrot who just got dumped and is feeling human emotions like grief, denial and sadness for the first time in its life. This could have easily been the same spot on my best list, so much that I had to go to random.org to decide if this should go on the best or worst list because this is simultaneously terrible and terrific. That Scary Hours EP is pretty cool though, you should check that out... or if you want a laugh, just open up Spotify and listen to “Fake Love”. Better luck next year, better luck next year, ‘cause I’m excited to start giving Drake love next year.

I put two Maroon 5 songs on my best list. I suppose this is my punishment.

#7 – Maroon 5 – “Don’t Wanna Know” featuring Kendrick Lamar

Everyone’s already talked about this song, so I’m not going to beat a dead horse. I’m going to beat a pissy, mind-numbingly repetitive, vocally ear-splitting, blandly tropical, trend-hopping, Kendrick-wasting, badly-tasting, copy-and-pasting, dung-pile of a horse. Oh, wait, I kind of already did that just now. I’ll just leave with you with one of K-Dot’s most fitting lyrics – from this very song:

No more, please stop

This isn’t a hit song; this is a godforsaken nursery rhyme.

#6 – blackbear – “do re mi” (remix) featuring Gucci Mane

The intro to this song is just a bunch of random noises. I’m not kidding, there’s a few synthesizer sounds, a pitched-up reverb-affected sample of blackbear singing the hook, blackbear’s very own ad-libs, some of which are pitched-down, and Gucci Mane yelling “Gucc’!” at the top of his lungs, which I’m surprised isn’t a meme. You know what else is meme-worthy? This dude’s falsetto.

Do re mi, fa, so f**king done with you

And this hook, these lyrics and that melody. Am I the only one who thinks it would somehow be more obnoxious and cringe-worthy if he said “freaking done with you” instead? No?

I think this song is just purely bitter, but not in a way I can relate to, just dark chocolate without flavour or texture. Fittingly, the instrumentation and production is some of the blandest trap-R&B I’ve ever heard. blackbear sounds like a robot for most of the verse until he breaks out as nonsensical child turned angry R&B sing-rapper who broke up with a supposed floozy. Honestly, Gucci Mane’s verse is pretty good but it has hardly any relation to the rest of the song so it’s almost a certainty that I’ll enjoy it, because this song is garbage. How in the hell did this trash make the year-end? I hope blackbear has another hit because frankly, I quite enjoy some of his music, and I don’t want this to be his only hit. Gucci Mane is still awesome though.

There are two songs on this list with a Beyoncé remix, both of which I have credited as the original instead because I don’t want her to be on the list twice when she’s easily the best part of both songs by a landslide. You know why this next one’s on the list, so let’s not waste our time.

#5 – J Balvin and Willy Williams – “Mi Gente”

To describe this song, I have to ask you two questions, the first one being: Have you ever heard a goat or sheep blaring in a farm or zoo? This is what that screeching ear-piercing sample makes you think of – a herd of goats all angry, hungry and confused – which is taken from a song that samples that very sound as well, from another song. The second question is: have you ever heard a reggaeton song? Of course, you have, you’ve heard “Despacito”, haven’t you? Imagine them mixed together, but no, not mixed in a sleekly-designed modern building, collided in a messy derelict ramshackle of an apartment with sweat dripping down every single piece of dirty laundry, in which the sweat is coming from the rats inside the walls instead of the ghastly insane elderly woman who lives there with her ten cats, who is so moist and dry in old age she has lost the ability to sweat, cry or her favourite thing to do, spit on people. Hence, she’s criminally depressed and so am I after listening to this song, as it is so unbearable to the point where I’m flabbergasted at how this became a top 10 hit. Next!

Wait a second... I don’t even know what “mi gente” means. Oh, it means “my people”? Talking about a group of people, here’s our first, last and only tie on the list, and it’s a doozy.

#4 – Yo Gotti - “Rake it Up” featuring Nicki Minaj / Lil Uzi Vert - “XO Tour Llif3”

These are completely different songs, but they both represent the oversaturation of trap in their sleep-inducing beats, stupid, scatterbrain lyrics that show off every single rap cliché possible (I’ll go into detail some other time in a bonus list after this one) and a whole dose of bad vocal performances, most notably Lil Uzi Vert’s autotuned whining in “XO Tour Llif3”. At least they’re the only God-awful trap songs to be hits this year.

#4 – Kodak Black – “Tunnel Vision”

Oh, yeah, the song about racial profiling that also includes a lyric about or at least implying a reference to your rape charges... I think I know why they want you locked up, mate. While you’re there, we should also give you some basic English education, because anyone who thinks “iggin’” is a perfectly usable word, and that “winning”, “listen” and “iggin’” rhyme with “penitentiary” should probably start re-thinking if the school they went to did the best job they could. Well, at least Rae Sremmurd didn’t have a hit this year.

#4 – Ayo & Teo – “Rolex” / Rae Sremmurd – “Swang”

Two—two of them? We have two of them now?!

Hop out, drop-top, f **k y’all talkin’, I need it right now, right now

What’s with the falsettos this year? Did everyone forget how to sing in a higher pitch properly?

#4 – ZAYN and Taylor Swift – “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (Fifty Shades Forever)”

Oh, so, that’s a yes, then? How about we just give hits to people who can’t sing at all?

#4 – Julia Michaels – “Issues”

I have issues with this song, but again, it’d be beating a dead horse with a sack of coal. At least it’s a woman who can’t sing this time... Girl power, I guess?

#4 – Halsey – “Now or Never”

Well, at least she can sing, I suppose. It’s just that this song is all over the place, like a bed that’s way too...

#4 – Migos – “Slippery” featuring Gucci Mane

Sorry, Gucc’. I love you, man, I really do, but you associate yourself with some of the worst singers, some of the least interesting rappers, and sometimes...

Two b****es so fine that I masturbated

...some of the worst yet still very interesting lyrics.

Yes, those are all my picks for #4. They are all as equally lazy and incompetent as each other.

Now let’s move onto one song that is somehow worse than every single song in the last spot combined, mostly due to the annoyance of every single possible sound effect the producers crammed into it.

#3 – Hailee Steinfeld and Grey – “Starving” featuring Zedd

I didn’t know that I was starving ‘til I tasted you

Okay, a bit of a weird metaphor, but it adds some sensuality to it all so it gives the relationship some lip-biting romance, so that’s a decent line.

Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo

Oh... never mind. Seriously, the concept of this line is okay on paper, but “the whole damn zoo” is so forced and downright nonsensical that it really takes me out of whatever sensuality, romance or even fun this line was supposed to be portraying. Butterflies aren’t even typically animals that are perceived as “zoo animals”; they’re found in zoos in those enclosures but that’s pretty much it. What were you going for here, five writers? Seriously, you had five writers, none of which are credited because of sampling or interpolation by the way, three of which being professional, two of which being Grey themselves, and none of those grown men and women could figure out any reason to why this line is incredibly corny, or have the gall to object it? Yes, most of this section has been about that lyric but what else is there to criticise other than that lyric and the drop, which is one of the weakest this year? I’ll pass.

So what’s number #2? It can’t be as bad as that song.

#2 – Imagine Dragons – “Thunder”

...Then dishonourable mentions time it is!

Dishonourable Mentions

Ed Sheeran – “Shape of You”

This is in order of the Year-End and not my opinion because I just want to not talk about “Thunder” as easily and as long as I can. If the most popular song of the year is this terrible, it should be a bad sign, but 2017 is great, so I suppose there are exceptions.

Sam Hunt – “Body like a Back Road”

I’ve made a rule to never put country songs on any lists because I have a negative bias towards them; just never enjoyed the genre that much. Sorry.

James Arthur – “Say You Won’t Let Go”

Boring.

Kygo and Selena Gomez – “It Ain’t Me”

This drop just completely ruins the song.

Logic – “1-800-273-8255” featuring Alessia Cara and Khalid

Khalid saves this.

Who can relate? (whoo!)

Taylor Swift – “Look What You Made Me Do”

This has a really good pre-chorus. That’s about all my positives.

Machine Gun Kelly – “Bad Things” featuring Camila Cabello

“Havana” must have been a fluke.

Ariana Grande – “Side to Side” featuring Nicki Minaj

Wrist icicle, ride d**k bicycle / Come true, yo, get you this type of blow / If you wanna Minaj, I got a tricycle

D**k bicycle... okay, Nicki.

Shawn Mendes – “Mercy”

I suppose this has enough of a rock edge for me to forgive.

Some random teenage nobodies – “that Vine dance song (why do these still exist)”

Dead horse.

Katy Perry – “Chained to the Rhythm”

Are we tone-deaf?

Are you talking to the people who bought your album?

Jon Bellion – “All Time Low”

Out of all of their discography, I can’t believe “Jon Bellion” is the song that got big. “Weightless” is so much better.

Sam Smith – “Too Good at Goodbyes”

This is so perfect that it sickens me.

P!nk – “What About Us”

This is so non-descript that it sickens me.

Cheat Codes – “No Promises” featuring Demi Lovato

Whoever the guy is needs to input the singing codes. It’s D, O, O, R, left.

Shawn Mendes – “Treat You Better”

Ew.

Rita Ora – “Anywhere”

Oh, how I wish you crossed over.

The Chainsmokers – “Closer” featuring Halsey / Future – “Mask Off” / DJ Khaled – “I’m the One” featuring Justin Bieber, Quavo, Chance the Rapper and Lil Wayne

I’ve yet to decide if these songs are heaven-sent or hells spawn.

Now, let’s talk about the demon that is “Thunder”.

Thunder, feel the thunder

There are so many things about this song that make me want to shrivel up in the corner and rot. First of all, there’s the way-too-bouncy trap production for an otherwise triumphant song; it shouldn’t be this joyful and plucky. Those finger-snaps are so blatantly fake, and that synth sounds like literal yawning edited to sound like a chirping tone that just scratches the surface of unbearable. Dan Reynolds in general is an absolute plonker throughout the verses, with the vocal inflections of a Pez dispenser who just, for no reason, slides off into a spiral of autotuned murmuring in the first verse.

Just a young gun, with a quick fuse / I was uptight, wanna let loose / I was dreaming of bigger things / And wanna leave my whole life behind

The lyrics, by the way, are literally saying “I was into this band before you were cool”, which makes the second verse even more aggravating, especially due to the pitch-shifted vocal that appears on every single one of his terrible vocal inflections.

Kids were laughing in my classes / While I was scheming for the masses

Now I’m smiling from the stage while / You were clapping in the nosebleeds

The verses are terrible, but it’s not the worst part of this song, and neither is the next thing I’m going to bring up, but this is awful too.

You know how Kanye West manipulated samples so they’d sound kind of like a chipmunk? Well, Imagine Dragons do the same, however here, instead of a low-key soul-influenced hip hop track, it’s supposed to be a triumphant synth-pop victory lap, so this repetitious pitch-shifted nonsense is unfitting, unnecessary and unbearable. What are they repeating, you ask? The word “thunder”, which Dan does in the chorus as well. Hence, the word “thunder” is used approximately 78 times, excluding when only one syllable of the word is said (that happens a lot too). This song is just barely over three minutes, and there’s not many instrumental parts, apart from a certain section we’ll get to later. “Thunder” doesn’t have as much of an impact when it’s said nearly 80 times in your relatively short song, that was made for pop radio so of course it’s going to be played frequently.

There’s also that guitar solo... that pathetic wimpy guitar solo. There’s such a leap in hatred and lack of quality and redeemable moments from #3 to #2... what was #1? “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran? Well, I hate that song, but technically, it doesn’t count because it didn’t make the Year-End... screw it.

#10 – Cheat Codes – “No Promises” featuring Demi Lovato

Which means...

#1 – Imagine Dragons – “Thunder”

You happy, Dan? I’m officially jealous of you, like you wanted me to be. I’m envious of your success despite several attempts to make the radio play garbage – and not even the good kind like recyclable garbage or guilty-pleasure garbage, just plain, unadulterated crap worthy of no more attention. Congratu-freaking-lations. I’ll see you for the next episode of Reviewing the Charts or the next review or whatever, I don’t care. Goodbye. Hopefully next year is the same quality or even better than this year. So far it doesn’t seem to be even close.

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder.

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mystlnewsonline · 6 years

Photo

New Post has been published on https://www.stl.news/this-week-odd-news-chickens-saved-and-falling-iguanas/62473/

This week in odd news: Chickens saved and falling iguanas

January 06, 2018(AP)(STL.News)-TAMPA, Fla. (AP) — A Florida contractor says he was attacked by a bobcat inside a woman’s condo, but the animal’s owner says her feline is no predator, just a 10-pound domestic longhair kitty named Calli.

The contractor, Marcos Hernandez, filed a lawsuit in Tampa on Dec. 19, alleging condo owner Christine Lee illegally kept a bobcat inside her unit. He said a bobcat scratched him on May 16, causing serious injuries after he entered the condo to conduct a fire safety inspection.

Hernandez was in the condo alone, Lee said, something that shouldn’t have happened. She said an employee from the building was supposed to accompany him inside.

“This has gotten so blown out of proportion, it’s ridiculous,” Lee said.

According to the lawsuit, Hernandez said he was attacked by an unleashed bobcat and suffered permanent injuries. He’s seeking a jury trial and unspecified damages. Hernandez said Lee had a duty to provide a safe environment and failed to warn him about the bobcat.

Lee said that’s nonsense. She only has a fluffy, tortoiseshell-colored housecat and a sleeker black cat named Max. She doesn’t know which cat may have scratched Hernandez, but Max’s color would likely rule him out.

She has not yet retained an attorney.

“I’m not denying he got scratched, what he was doing to get scratched, I don’t know,” she said, adding that when she arrived home that day, Calli was “cowering and scared.” Max was underneath her bed.

Calli, who is 3 1/2, is friendly, Lee said. But “just like any animal, she is guarded. If they feel threatened, they may attack, scratch or bite.”

Soon after the incident, she was informed by building management that Hernandez had been scratched, but she hadn’t heard of the lawsuit until this week, when the Tampa Bay Times first wrote about the case and took a photo of Calli. Hernandez is also suing the condo building’s owner.

Lee said she has never owned a bobcat.

“A bobcat does look much different than this. They’re much bigger than this 10-pound little thing,” she said. “It’s a litigious society and here we are.”

According to the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, wild bobcats in the state are about twice the size of a domestic cat, up to about 35 pounds. They are tan to yellowish brown, with dark spots. A wildlife official visited Lee’s apartment on Thursday, the newspaper report.

Hernandez’ attorney’s office said they were not going to comment at this time.

MAN GETS STUCK IN BLIZZARD IN TOPLESS CONVERTIBLE

CRANSTON, R.I. (AP) — Wintry weather didn’t keep a Rhode Island man from driving through town in his topless convertible.

WPRI-TV reports the roof on John Pratt’s convertible Mercedes Benz has been broken for about a month. He tried to get the lipstick red luxury car to the repair shop Thursday morning, as a massive storm dumped more than a foot of snow in parts of the state.

But his chilly open-air ride turned into an icy predicament when his car got stuck. Onlookers took video, which then made the rounds on social media.

The episode left the Cranston man and his car covered in snow.

Pratt blames his 16-year-old son for the broken roof. He says he doesn’t mind the trouble because people got a few laughs out of it.

JUST SHY OF HER 100TH BIRTHDAY, MISSISSIPPI WOMAN BAGS DEER

MORGANTOWN, Miss. (AP) — A 99-year-old hunter in Mississippi wants to know why people are making a big fuss about her recent kill. It was a doe after all, not a prized buck.

The Clarion Ledger reports that Bertha Vickers used a .243 Winchester rifle to kill a doe recently a few miles from her rural home. Relatives posted pictures of Vickers and her kill on Facebook, and people sent messages of congratulations.

Vickers says she doesn’t know “why everybody is making such a big deal about it” because it was “just a doe” and not a buck.

Vickers lives near the farming community where she grew up in northern Mississippi, outside Starkville. She still mows her own yard and enjoys squirrel hunting.

She turns 100 on Tuesday.

SNATCHED BY HUNGRY EAGLE, LITTLE DOG LIVES TO BARK THE TALE

Felipe Rodriguez says he thought he was hallucinating when an eagle snatched his sister’s little white dog from her yard, flapped its massive wings and disappeared over the trees.

Did he really just see that?

He had. Zoey the 8-pound bichon frise was gone, taken by a hungry raptor Tuesday afternoon not 50 feet from his sister’s house on the banks of the Lehigh River in Pennsylvania, Rodriguez said.

“It seemed like something from the ‘Wizard of Oz,'” he told The Associated Press on Wednesday. “I’m a city boy. This doesn’t happen in my world.”

Even more astonishing: Zoey would live to bark the tale.

More on that later. But first, let it be said that eagles are quite capable of taking a small dog or a cat.

“It has been documented before, but not that often,” said Laurie Goodrich, a biologist at nearby Hawk Mountain Sanctuary, a ridgetop preserve that annually records tens of thousands of migrating hawks, eagles and falcons.

With food scarce and waterways freezing up, raptors are “looking a little more widely and taking advantage of whatever might be out there,” she said.

Rodriguez said he was by himself at his sister’s home in Bowmanstown, about 80 miles (128 kilometers) north of Philadelphia, and Zoey was playing in the fenced yard when he heard a loud screech, hurried to the door and looked out.

“The bird was holding onto the dog. There was flapping of wings and then it was gone,” said Rodriguez, a 50-year-old healthcare executive visiting from Chicago.

He drove around the neighborhood looking for the 7-year-old bichon, to no avail. Rodriguez assumed Zoey was gone for good.

His sister and her family were devastated when they found out.

“I did nothing but cry all day,” Monica Newhard said.

Newhard said it’s not unusual to see eagles, given her home’s proximity to the river. She also suspected they occasionally grabbed one of the rabbits that lived under her shed. But it didn’t occur to Newhard that any of her four dogs would be in danger.

Heartbroken, she and her husband scoured the woods for Zoey’s body. Little did they know their bitty bichon would be found later that afternoon — a full four miles away.

Zoey’s rescuer was Christina Hartman, 51, who said she was driving on a snow-covered back road when she spotted a furry white lump ahead and pulled over to investigate.

“I notice this little frozen dog, icicles hanging from all over. It could hardly move,” Hartman said.

She scooped up the whimpering pooch, wrapped her in a blanket and took her home, feeding the dog two bowls of chicken-and-rice soup. Gradually, the bichon warmed up and began to show some spunk. Hartman noticed several small wounds on the back of her neck, and the dog walked with a limp. She had no collar.

“This dog belongs to a family, and I’m gonna find out who owns it,” Hartman told herself.

It didn’t take long. She spotted Newhard’s public Facebook post-Wednesday morning — Newhard had uploaded a photo of Zoey — and made an excited call.

“I said, ‘It’s a miracle! I have your dog!'”

Zoey had bruises and a few missing patches of fur. It’s not clear how far the eagle might have carried the dog, but Rodriguez said he can’t believe Zoey survived.

“She is not really herself, but she is getting lots of love,” his sister, Newhard, texted the AP late Wednesday. “She doesn’t want to go out. … I really can’t blame her.”

By Associated Press, published on STL.NEWS by St. Louis Media, LLC (TM)

#Felipe Rodriguez #Hartman #miracle #Mississippi #Monica

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