The first gay film I ever watched was in high school, maybe my sophomore or junior year, and I believe on Netflix. All I can remember about it is the MC being obsessed with a jogger and spraying him with a hose to force an interaction, that the MC likes placing his head in the small of someone's shoulder and chest (he also refers to this area by a term, which I forget), and the "being interviewed" inner thought takes on situations where it flashes to the MC and he says "log cabin republicans". The film would have had to have been released by 2010 or prior.

Thank you to Space paladin for the canvas and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for proofreading and critique
Content warning; Educator abuse and syrupy love
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Memory transcript: Maarchal , MESEA Astronomers. Date: [Standard Farsul calendar ] January 26th, 3667
PLUNCK
Ponthyts blue stick clattered on the board, rolling around in a circle. Before settling on three. He then pumps his paw and moves to move a soldier that many paces.
“Well, I got you cornered now, whatcha going to do about it?” I smirk at Ponthyts soon to be dashed confidence as I take out my red stick and flip in the air much higher than he did with his own.
It hits the board with a loud clatter, bouncing on each end before settling on rolling. To which it landed on seven. I move my last interceptor through his ranks and take his general. The gobsmacked look on his features was evident, with his previously wagging tail so still it made stone seem fluid.
“I win.”
“How did you do that?”
I rolled my shoulders and readjusted my legs underneath. “Well, you left a clear path for my interceptor.” I pointed to the gaps in his remaining pieces.
“I know that! I mean how did you know you'd get a high enough number to do that? Your interceptor was all the way back here and it's your last red piece!!!”
I lean my head back and lean against the wall behind me. “I didn't, I just saw an opportunity and took it.”
He pointed a digit at me “ Mershit, that was some grandmaster trap!”
I give him the ear position of resignation with a mirthful little grin. “I promise you it was just luck.”
He waves his paw dismissively. “I don't believe you.”
“Well believe it, because I don't plan ahead like that. Want to play another game?”
He shakes his head. “Nah I think four games is enough for one night.” He begins moving the pieces into their containers and folds up the board and places it on top of them. Closing the box. He then stands up and offers me his paw, I use it to pull myself up off the floor.“Well Maarchal, I’ll see you tomorrow at the observatory. I’ll bring the set if you want to play it during lunch if you want.”
I froze, “what! What time is it? He turns over to look at the clock above his strove.
“Ahh about Fifteen minutes past 18.”
“Uh, that's not that late! We could play another game! C’mon let's have a tie breaker!”
He rubs his eyes, “I’m tired and we have work in the morning. Is there something you're avoiding?”
I rub my upper right arm and look off into the corner. “...”
He took on a worried look, “Why don't you want to go home Maarchal?”
I sighed and took a seat at his dining room table. “I… I don't like that house, I’ve lived there since I moved to LIghra six years ago but it's not a… home like here.”
I looked around at the messy abode. Dirty cloaks were strewn about on the back of chairs and the rubbish trough was just barely not overflowing. Paintings either from family or Ponthyts own paw were hanged up in the hallways, and the lightbulbs cast a warm orangish light. While the dishes from our dinner were placed in the sink, covered with animal gravy slathered all over them. It was tidy yet just barely so. A place filled with all the markers of being lived in.
“You've lived here less than a year but it feels like it's always had you in it. I feel … so comfortable here. My own home is so… cold and sterile. I Worked a lot the first few months I moved here. I just never got around to making it a home. It feels so bare, I started to work overtime just to avoid it. Which just made the problem worse.”
He sat down across from me, He put his head in his paws and looked at the scratched wood of his table. He held that position for a minute or two before breaking it and placing his paw on my own. “Maarchal, you are my best friend, I want you to feel comfortable. So if you want you can sleep on my coach, I can also help you make your home feel like one."
​
I shake my head, “no no, I shouldnt of imposed on you. Making myself feel at home is a job I need to do and have been avoiding for far too long. It's just… it's just so much easier to avoid you know?” I grabbed his paw and squeezed it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
​
I stand up and make my way to his front door before he speaks up.
​
“Uh hey Maarchal?”
​
I turn to address him “yeah?”
​
He shifts in his seat and fidgets with his fingers. “I’m uh, going to Ootra lake next week. I was wondering If you'd like… to come with me? I promise if you don't have a tent I’ll bring you one. We could have a fire, roast some meat on it and share ghost stories and stargaze… if you want?”
​
“ What about work?”
​
He rocks in his chair. “We'd have to call in for a day or so.”
​
I contemplated his words and mulled them over. It would be the first time I’ve ever willingly taken off a day, tarnishing my perfect attendance. But the prospect of spending more one on one time with Ponthyt was overwhelmingly tempting.
​
“Sure, I’d love to go. But I haven't gone camping for years so you will need to bring me a tent.”
​
He leapt from his chair, launching it backwards, before calming himself down. “I’ll take care of all the prep. You just have to come along. I promise it’ll be loads of fun!”
​
I chuckled while I watched his clearly restrained display as I slowly closed the door.
​
I could hear him howl with enjoyment as I turned into the driveway to get to my auto.
​
**\*
​
“Huff, Huff, you doin alright there Ponthyt?” I turned back to see him walking behind me.
​
“Yeah, oof I haven't walked this much in years!”
​
I waited for him to catch up, we sat together when he did and we caught our breath before tuning to make our way back up the bluff. When we reached it there was a stone gazebo made of limestone. The angle of the sun let it shine into it. We walked into it and sat down on the stone benches. I looked around at the lake.
​
It was surrounded by steep hills with many rock faces visible, the layered stone was clearly visible. The topography of the area around the bluffs was shaped like a bowl, with the sight of land of higher elevation faintly visible in the distance despite its gradual slope. Giving a scene of depth that was not as extreme then in more mountainous areas. This view was normally hidden by the trees below.
​
“Well isn't this view alone worth the trip?” Ponthyt proclaimed.
​
I looked around letting the mid morning sun warm my back, I stretched my arms and breathed deeply. Taking in all the wonderful scents of nature.
​
“Yeah, it's beautiful.” I let myself relax, just letting the sounds and scents of nature calm me like I have never been since I was a pup on an archeological trip with mom and dad.
​
“Hmm, I've missed this.”
​
I don't know for how long I had been like this, but Ponthyt broke the silence “Ahhem, so, you've gone camping before?”
​
I nodded, “yeah when I was a pup my parents would sometimes go off to a site for a couple of weeks and we would come with them. We would have to get homeschooled then. But we would always have to camp and I and my siblings would go off exploring while they worked during the day.”
​
He smiled and his tail was wagging.” That sounds wonderful. I only got to camp for a couple days a year. It was always so hectic. Me and my siblings would just muck around the camp and eat, sometimes hiking around. Heh” Ponthyt looked towards the ground and held his paws together, rubbing his digits together.
​
“What's wrong Ponthyt?”
​
“Oh it's nothing it's-” I put my paw on his shoulder which drew his attention towards me.
​
“I know that's not true, you can trust me. Just tell me what's wrong ok?”
​
He gave a look of reluctance before caving to my request “… sigh… I grew up in a big family, and I love them all but… I was born at a strange time. I was second to last of my parents pups. Which meant they were busy with the older ones' events and taking care of the youngest. I kind of got mixed up and forgotten. My interests rarely lined up with the others and I often messed up tasks that my sibling would just fix or do for me. It got to the point that I… didn't really do anything. They will never say this but… I don't think my parents ever expected anything of me.”
​
I rub his shoulder,” well… I know that you have amounted to something. I mean, you're an astronomer! You work to understand the nature of reality. You're also so… kind and patient. I tried to scare you off but you weren't deterred at my standoffish behavior.”
​
He turned his head and gave me a shallow but joyous expression. “Heh well living in a house that's rarely quiet leaves you with a high tolerance for stubbornness. '' he wipes away a single tear “Sniff well… should we make our way back to camp? Or can I take out my stuff?”
​
I shake my head. ”Nah, you can paint. I’ll just sit here and let this place wash over me.”
​
He smiles and gets up and sets up his easel, taking out his supplies from his bag and gets to work painting the landscape ahead of him. He was slow and each brushstroke was as deliberate as he could manage. He… wasn't very good, only starting out when he moved here. But his drive to get better was admirable. Even in adulthood he tried to learn, to grow, to become more than he was yesterday.
​
I kept staring at him. Feeling something warm in my gut, something an academic wasn't supposed to feel. Shame overwhelmed me and I quickly turned away. Cursing myself for having those accursed feelings.
​
​
**\*
​
Ponthyt, returned from his cauto (Cargo auto -> pickup truck) with an armful of wood he brought with us. He set most of it aside and threw a piece onto the fire he had started, causing a cascade of embers to fly into the late evening air. The dull purple of the sky cast overhead between the canopy of the trees as the chill of the night began to come in. A pleasant coolness that most would take advantage of to seek the comfort of warming oneself close to a fire.
​
Not me, I paced to a fro as Ponthyt set up our campsite. He had placed his painting for the day inside the cabin of his cautoa and was now seasoning some raw meat strips to cook on the open fire. Snacking on one or two as he did so. He hung them on the tripod to roast, the fat that dripped off them as they were cooking sizzled as they burned on the coals below.
​
“I’ll have these done as soon as I can, please sit down Maarchal. Walking like that is only going to make the wait worse.” He says as he prods the suspended meat with a claw like utensil.
​
“Hmm, ok I’ll just sit and wait. Waste my time. Make a waste of the whole evening!!!” I snapped back at him, throwing my paws into the air.
​
Ponthyt recoils from my outburst with his ears pinned back. “ We’re camping, there is no way to waste it.”
​
I turned to address him, “we shouldn't be here! This trip means nothing and we are just wasting our TIME!!!” I cross my arms and scratch at the biceps. Rufflying the fur and making a mess of myself.
​
Ponthyt drops his utensil and walks over to me. “ We’re together and we spent the whole day just mucking about. How is this any more of a waste than that?” He says as he looks at me with eyes full of worry.
​
“We’re scientists, academics!!! We don't waste time like the ignorant masses! We should spend our time wisely!!! Every action of connection is just another moment we waste that could be spent to advance our field.” I had tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Scratching at my fur until I felt a wetness on my arms and paws.
​
“We’re supposed to sharpen our minds! No-not seek pointless relationships! ” I said as I bared my teeth and began growling at him.
​
The look of betrayal and abject worry he had on his face was overwhelming. I didn't want to hurt him. What am I doing? He doesn't deserve my ire. My legs gave out and I cried into my hands.
​
Ponthyt walked over to his cauto and brought out a cover. He wrapped it around me and rubbed my arms through it. He rested his head on top of mine while I sobbed. I couldn't take this anymore. Repressing and lashing out at any attempt to connect. Ponthyt hugged me and rocked back and forth. Humming and rubbing on the cover. He was warm and soft. I don't know how long we had been like this but by the time my sobs turned to a faint whine the meat over the fire was well done and the sky was pure black and the stars were out.
​
“I-I think i’m good no-now.” I choked out. Ponthyt grabbed my hand and helped me stand up. We didn't say another word. He collects the meat and places it on two plates. I stare at my portion for some time, Ponthyt doesn't eat any of his either.
​
“Sigh… I know you might not want to but… Could you tell me why you said those things earlier?” He says with trepidation clearly miring his words.
​
“Yeah, it's just… When I entered college It was… not what I was expecting… I was sort of a hyper teen. Always going off about some book I read. Drawing pictures of stars, space stations or colonies we would make on inhospitable planets.”
​
He sits up and places his plate by his side. “You draw? I’d love to see some of them.”
​
“I used to. But I haven't since that first year of college.” I turned to stare at the dying inferno warming us. I pull the cover around me tighter.
​
“When I was doodling before class one day the professor walked by me. He noticed what I was doing and grabbed my paper. I objected but he just stared at me. When he started to address the class he showed it off and mocked me for wasting my time.” Ponthyt turns his head to look at me.
​
“That's a dick move, But at least he couldn't do the same when you did it in your free time right?” I turned to him with a somber expression. He seemed to understand the implications though he seemed to be confused as to how.
​
“He couldn't have gotten into your room right? That'd be a huge breach of privacy!!!”
​
I grabbed the poker and stirred the coals of the fire. “You're right, he couldn't. But he didn't need to, my roommate would take them with her to class and he’d pin them up on the board to mock. I called the staff but since she was my roommate she didn't break any privacy laws and since my art was only ever worth the paper it was on it wasn't even enough to get a misdemeanor theft charge. I tried to hide it but she would always find them. I tried to get another roommate but he stonewalled my attempts and I couldn't afford to rent a place in town. ”
​
He took on a look of absolute despair. “... How… how could he be so aggressively intolerant of such an innocent hobby?”
​
I chuckled “It wasn't just mine, a few others had made the mistake of having a roommate with the same professor. I remembered one who loved going out in the woods for hikes. When he found out about that he mocked him for “Pointless exercise and admiring a random assemble of dead and dying shit””. I waved my arms about to emphasize how he inflicted his words.
​
Ponthyt stared at the ground between us with a look of utter confusion.” … He mocked someone for appreciating nature and being healthy?”
​
I nodded, “if you were not engaging with study of his topic you were wasting his and everyone else's time.”
​
Ponthyt looks at me with concern and shared pain. “Why, why didn't you go to a different school?”
​
I stared at him in his eyes. A scene of shame overtook me. “It was the top class in the country. My family was so proud of me. I was so proud of myself, I didn't want to disappoint them and me. Looking back on it, I realize my own pride was something I rarely contended with until then. It didn't help when he found out who my family was.”
​
Ponthyt recoiled and waved his arms in a “what” fashion. “Wait, what does your family have to do with this?”
​
I poked at a log to knock off the charcoal to expose the untouched wood underneath. “They were happy. He spent a lot of time in academic circles so naturally he met people who knew my parents. And the way they described this happy family irritated him something fierce. He gave me such a hard time with it. Mocking me for being a lazy nepotism pick who didn't deserve her seat in his class. He mocked anyone for having any kind of non professional relationship, we never spoke to each other outside of class. We never left or met with friends or family. If we tried too he’d find out and call the one in question a “Lazy sentimental idiot.””
​
I breathed in deeply, “... that hurt my pride so severely that I just stopped seeing them or any of my friends. I always said I was busy or had a field study, but I was just reading and rereading his lectures. I didn't even go home for the summer breaks, I just apprenticeshiped at his museum to study even more. At graduation he looked so… proud, I only realized he was proud of what he turned me into and not what I did a few weeks after I met you. How I let him turn me into an angry starile shell of a person.”
​
Ponthyt turned his head towards the fire. His ears straight up and a soft growl in his throat. “... If I ever meet that piece of.. nuclear waste, I’ll kill him.”
​
He turns to me and his features soften immediately. “Anyone capable of manipulating someone as passionate and creative as you... I can't even imagine the kind of living hell he made you seek…”
​
I chucked and a slight wag entered my tail.” I’m responsible for my life. MY pride kept me there for him to mold. I hate him, but I hate myself for it too.”
​
Ponthyt shoots up and screams at me “MERSHIT, Maarchal, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You had a right to expect your teachers to be respectable people. Not abusive and manipulative Sherkires (Ambush insect. Commonly seen as sneaky and unhonorable due to making pheromones and calls imitating other insects mating signals). He starts to speak softer as he turners to address me.
​
“Even this version of you, so cut off of why you love space in the first place is just.. You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. So humble with addressing yourself. You inspire me to be a tenth of the person you are.” He kneels in front of me and grabs my paws in his own.
​
“You are… you are so passionate, so creative. Even with being a self described shell. I can't even imagine how you will be when you open up again and explore your creativity in full and banish that monster's influence for good.”
​
I turn and I can't help but smile at his words.”... I haven't been in practice in years. But … I’m willing to relearn it with you.” I stared deeply in his eyes and that feeling again bubbles within me. The feeling of never wanting to leave his side, the feeling as though I found a piece I had been missing. Before I knew it I bit on his snout, recoiling when I realized what I had done.
​
‘I-I’m so sorry!!! You were just so close and and I felt something and before I knew it-” I was caught off guard when he bit my snout, holding my top jaw between his own set. I bit down on his lower jaw and we locked together. He tried to let go after a while. But I growled to let him know I wasn't ready yet and I used my leverage to lead him into my tent.
​
**\*
​
I got up and exited my tent. I stood up and stretched and twisted my back around. Lifting my arms above my head and pulling them as far out as I could. I looked at the coals still burning in our firepit, I could only tell they were burning from the heat going off of them as the glow was hidden by the sun's light. Before noticing the meat Ponthyt prepared last night still on the plates on the log we sat on.
​
“Pff, hey Ponthyt. Come out here!!!” I said behind me. He crawled out my tent with a head of messy fur.
​
“Wut ?” He said with half closed eyes and a disposition of utter exhaustion . I pointed to the cold meat. He still had a look of drowsiness before he realized what the significance of the strange strips were.
​
“Heh, I guess we won't need to make breakfast?” I chuckled as I sat down and hugged his head. I groomed his messy fur as I absorbed the morning sun. I don't know what the future of my career looked like anymore. But it was no longer the most important thing in my life. I loved space, I loved to learn. But In these years I had lost track of what was truly important. As I groomed him Ponthyt fell asleep with his head in my lap.
​
As I felt the joy of reciprocal love again for the first time in years I leaned back and watched the sunrise, caressing my love's head and breathing in the fresh air.
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A DE-based CT that's inspired by the Goosebumps book "One Day at HorrorLand", that allows the user to cast a DE that's reminiscent of the theme park from the book. This domain mirrors the eerie and dangerous aspects of Horrorland, complete with menacing attractions and terrifying monsters. The user can control and manipulate this park, using it to trap and frighten enemies. Upon activation, the user is automatically transported into a master control room of sorts that allows them to oversee the entirety of the park and opponents via cameras strewn about the park.
The user can also summon and control an innumerable amount of green-skinned, muscular horned shikigami dubbed "Horrors" to be used for offensive, defensive, or support purposes. These shikigami are not only physically strong, but also immensely durable, to the point where nothing can really hurt them. The only thing that can kill these shikigami is pinching them.
The main sure-hit effect of this domain, revolves around the gameshow-based aspects that this domain has to offer. Upon getting caught in this domain, the opponents are randomly placed in different sections of HorrorLand where they are then forced to participate in games involving the various attractions or rides. Everyone is then given 3 lives, that can't be brought or won back, and if all exhausted will result in the death of the opponent.
The unwilling participants and/or participant is able to freely pick which ride or attraction to compete in, with each one having the same win condition: SURVIVE. The how doesn't matter, as long as you survive. They must survive a total of 5 games in order to win, which will then transport them to the exit point of the theme park, or in other words, forcefully deactivate the users domain, which results in a heavy amount of backlash on the user. If there are multiple opponents caught in this domain, only one of them needs to win in order for the whole group to win.
Some of the notable rides and attractions (because it'd take forever to list EVERYTHING lol), as well as their effects are as follows:
Attractions:
Deadly Doom Slides: 10 monstrous slides, each with a different interior and effects. The slides themselves are way bigger on the inside than outside, being more like tunnels than actual slides, or even separate realms entirely. The slides are as follows:

1. Ear Wax Alley: Appears as a twisted tunnel filled with grotesque, towering sculptures made entirely of ear wax, that can attack whoever enters, with their main method of attack involving coating and immobilizing victims in earwax that slowly corrodes their skin.
   
2. Electric Banshee: Appears as a realm of perpetual thunderstorms, where lightning strikes indiscriminately and the air is filled with the haunting wails of spectral banshee-like shikigami that are capable of attacking opponents. The ground crackles with electrical energy, and those who enter risk being struck by lightning or driven mad by the banshees cries.
   
3. Worm Belly: Appears as the stomach of a massive, writhing worm. The walls are lined with pulsating organs, and the ground is covered in squirming, slimy worms. The air is thick with the stench of decay, and stomach acid that slowly eats away at those who dared choose this slide.
   
4. Dragonbreath Drive: This slide leads to a fiery landscape dominated by a colossal dragon-like shikigami. The sky is filled with smoke and ash, and rivers of molten lava flow through the terrain. The dragon's fiery breath scorches everything in its path, and those who enter must evade its wrath to survive.
   
5. Just-a-Drop: A normal slide in appearance at first glance. The effect of this slide however, takes the form of a massive bottomless pit that the victim must figure out how to escape from.
   
6. Hairy Luge: This slide is coated in a thick layer of writhing, sentient hair that grips and pulls at anyone who enters. The hair seems to have a mind of its own, forming into grotesque shapes such as hands or weapons, and faces that leer and taunt those trapped within.
   
7. Carpenter's Delight: This slide leads to a realm where everything is made of sharp, splintered wood, that unless your entire body is reinforced with CE, you'd easily get impaled. Trees twist and contort into nightmarish shapes, and the ground is littered with jagged wooden shards.
   
8. Sewer Slide: This slide descends into a maze-like network of dark, dank sewers filled with toxic waste and monstrous shikigami that can spew toxic waste that burns flesh. The walls are slimy with filth, and the air is thick with the stench of decay.
   
9. Infinity Dreadful: This slide leads to a dimension of infinite darkness, where the concept of time and space are warped. Those who enter find themselves trapped in an endless void, with no hope of escape. The darkness consumes everything, including the minds of those who enter.
   
10. So That's Where All the Axes Went!: This slide transports individuals to a realm where every surface is covered in sharp, spinning axes. Surviving in this realm requires constant vigilance and agility to avoid being struck by the deadly blades.
    

Rides:

1. Bumper Carnage: This bumper car ride is set in a twisted, nightmarish version of a carnival midway. The cars are equipped with spikes and blades, and riders must dodge not only other cars but also the deadly obstacles that litter the track.
   
2. Calamity Canyon: Victims board a seemingly normal log flume ride that quickly descends into darkness. The waters become murky and filled with unseen shikigami that pull riders under, only to spit them out onto a crumbling, narrow path along a cliff's edge. The ride culminates in a final drop into a pool of blood-red water.
   
3. Dead Ringer: Riders board a carousel where each horse is adorned with a skeletal rider. As the carousel spins faster and faster, the skeletal riders come to life, reaching out to grab and pull a riders soul out of their body, and then them into a another skeletal rider.
   
4. Wheel of Misfortune: This Ferris wheel takes riders to dizzying heights before suddenly stopping, leaving them suspended in mid-air. The cabins then begin to rotate rapidly at supersonic speeds, causing disorientation. Some cabins even detach randomly and plummet to the ground.
   
5. Monster Mash: This haunted house ride is filled with animatronic monsters that come to life, chasing and attacking riders as they make their way through dark, winding corridors.
   
6. HorrorLand Derby: Riders board decrepit bumper cars that take on a life of their own. The cars steer themselves, crashing into each other with bone-jarring force. The arena is shrouded in darkness, and eerie laughter echoes through the air as the cars relentlessly pursue their terrified opponents.
   

A Comprehensive Guide to Alaska Airlines' Cancellation Policy

Introduction
Alaska Airlines is known for its customer-friendly policies, including a flexible cancellation policy that caters to the diverse needs of travelers. Understanding the nuances of this policy can save you time, money, and hassle. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into Alaska Airlines' cancellation policy in detail, covering everything from eligibility criteria to refund processes. Additionally, we'll provide insights into how you can contact Alaska Airlines for assistance. Let's get started!
Understanding Alaska Airlines' Cancellation Policy
Alaska Airlines allows passengers to cancel their flights under certain conditions without incurring hefty fees. Here's an overview of the key points:
Hour Risk-Free Cancellation
One of the standout features of Alaska Airlines' cancellation policy is its 24-hour risk-free cancellation window. Within 24 hours of booking your flight, you can cancel it without any penalty, regardless of the fare type. This allows passengers to make changes to their travel plans or correct booking errors without financial repercussions.
Eligibility for Cancellation
After the 24-hour window, the eligibility for cancellation without fees depends on various factors, including the fare type, route, and timing of the cancellation. Passengers are encouraged to review their fare rules and conditions to understand the cancellation policy specific to their ticket.
Fare Types and Cancellation Fees
Alaska Airlines offers different fare types, each with its own set of rules regarding cancellations and associated fees. Let's explore these fare types and the corresponding cancellation fees:
Main Cabin Tickets
Main Cabin tickets are the standard fare type offered by Alaska Airlines. Cancellation fees for Main Cabin tickets vary based on factors such as the time of cancellation relative to the departure date and the specific fare rules. Typically, cancellation fees for domestic flights range from $125 to $200 per person, while international flights may incur higher fees.
First Class and Premium Class Tickets
Passengers holding First Class or Premium Class tickets generally enjoy more flexibility when it comes to cancellations. The cancellation fees for these fare types are often lower compared to Main Cabin tickets and may range from $0 to $125 per person, depending on the fare rules and timing of the cancellation.
How to Cancel a Flight with Alaska Airlines
Alaska Airlines provides multiple options for passengers to cancel their flights conveniently. Here's how you can initiate a cancellation:
Online Cancellation
The easiest and most common way to cancel a flight with Alaska Airlines is through their official website. Passengers can log in to their account, navigate to the "Manage Trips" section, and follow the prompts to cancel their booking. Online cancellations offer a seamless experience and allow passengers to view any applicable fees or credits instantly.
Contacting Alaska Airlines Customer Service
Alternatively, passengers can contact Alaska Airlines' customer service directly to cancel their flights. Customer service representatives are available to assist with cancellations, answer questions about fees or refunds, and provide guidance on rebooking or making changes to travel plans.
Refund Process and Timeline
Understanding how refunds are processed and the associated timeline is crucial for passengers who have canceled their Alaska Airlines flights. Here's what you need to know:
Credit for Future Travel
In many cases, canceled tickets result in credit being issued for future travel with Alaska Airlines. This credit can be used towards the purchase of a new ticket within a specified timeframe, typically one year from the original booking date. Passengers should note any restrictions or limitations associated with the credit, such as blackout dates or fare class eligibility.
Refund to Original Form of Payment
For eligible cancellations, refunds may be issued back to the original form of payment, such as a credit card or debit card. The timeline for receiving a refund to the original form of payment varies but is typically processed within a few business days to a week. Passengers should check their account statements or payment method for updates on the refund status.
Contact Alaska Airlines for Assistance
If you have questions, need clarification, or require assistance regarding your canceled flight or any other travel-related inquiries, Alaska Airlines offers various channels for you to reach out:
Customer Service Hotline
For immediate assistance, you can call Alaska Airlines' customer service hotline at ☎️+1-888-414-1245. Be prepared to provide your booking details and any relevant information to expedite the process.
Online Support
Additionally, Alaska Airlines' official website provides a wealth of information, including FAQs, live chat support, and email contact options. Visiting their website can help you find answers to common questions or direct you to the appropriate support team.
Conclusion
Navigating Alaska Airlines' cancellation policy can seem daunting at first, but with the right information and resources, you can manage cancellations effectively and make informed decisions about your travel plans. Remember to review your fare rules, understand any applicable fees, and utilize the available channels to contact Alaska Airlines for assistance when needed. By staying informed and proactive, you can ensure a smoother experience when dealing with flight cancellations or changes. Safe travels!

Is there any reason to not use a kota instead of a cabin to hold animals? I just want something large to protect my animals from predators, and chopping and hauling logs to build a giant cabin seems like a lot of work, vs just piling up on a bunch of tree limbs and fur. Bonus points if I could use it to protect my main cabin from robbers as well.

[OC Intro: The game is modded to increase basic jobs cost, seasonal events are disabled. Much of the crash details are based on NASA/SP-2008-565 Columbia Crew Survival Investigation Report recommendations especially Chapter 3 "Occupant Protection".]
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]

I am stuck, I have gotten my village to level 10 but I have not gotten any new building plans. I did build where the Star Wars thing is going on on the map. (Through the cave when you first spawn in a new world) However I have another world that I am playing with family members and we have already unlocked log cabins etc at level 3-4 and we are building at the same place. Mean while I am stuck with the basic shed and some star war crap. The latest was the watch tower but not much more than that. What can I do? I don't want to re start

*The dawn appears over a vast verdant forest of towering redwoods as we transition down to a decrepit log cabin*
*The sounds of nature fills the atmosphere as birds sing their graceful love songs, flying elegantly overhead*
*at the entrance of the cabin we hear a slight creak as the door opens begrudgingly*
*A man walks out; with hair akin to a rat’s nest, he was as ebony as the cabin he came from. He appeared with a disheveled lightly melancholic grimace, as he trudged out each step echoing a deep longing…*
*As he shuffled, he began to reach his arms outward to stretch and take a deep breath soaking up the bright morning radiance as to ask it dearly to impart its energy upon him*
*He exhaled deeply, feeling new and energized his breath turning to an opaque mist on the cold air*
*He’d begin to walk with purpose, marching deeper into the forest hearing its pleasant ambience. Shining clear rainbow dew drops falling to lush forest floor, Monkeys letting off distant playful cries these sounds of had oddly enough become monotonous within his tenure*
*This man had made it to his goal an azure spring of shimmering water at the base of a waterfall the dull roar of the cascading waters calmed him further*
*He waltzed towards the water’s edge, gazing upon his reflection, appearing to lost in thought as if to wonder if that was actually him*
*After many years determination left his eyes. Emotions filled his face shame, fear, regret, and yet most of all despair*
*As he kneeled at the tranquil spring’s foot he cupped water within his hands and began to drink with great fervor as the water glided down his chin drenching his ragged clothes*
*After he drank his fill he began to undress.
His tattered wares were gently laid upon the soft moist dirt*
With sunlight shining down upon his toned body of the finest onyx. He entered the cold shallow water, glimmering in the sun.
A large flat pink band adored his waist and stomach and soon expanded and unfurled into a long thick tail the color of a brilliant rosé, it waved side to side helping him move through the clear serene waters of the spring*
*Within the water he felt a deep peace he hadn’t felt in quite a while. He'd been on edge ever since last afternoon. The man began to reminisce…*
*A distant dull glimmer manifested offshore and then suddenly roared to life with an intense effulgence! It had utterly… consumed… the sky… it shook the once stalwart earth beneath his feet and upset the tranquil sea. The intense shockwave brought him to his knees as if his very soul were hit!
*He'd worried if those people might have finally found him…*

Any experience with using log furniture in your Airbnb? I like the idea of buying quality for the long haul, but having some sticker shock!
https://logcabinrustics.com/cabin-airbnb-rustic-furniture/

I don’t know what Lupin special or episode this is from, but I can’t get it out of my head. Goemon is stuck in a log cabin during a blizzard and there’s a naked woman who asks him to come to bed with her, and he gets so flustered that he starts swinging Zantetsuken around. Someone pls tell me where this is from because I can’t stop thinking about how this might be one of Goemon’s stims.

Hi all, Does anyone have recommendations for a right angle grinder sanding discs. I need to sand down logs on a log cabin. The only ones I can find are for a 7/8 arbor and steel applications. Thanks for any help.

*The dawn appears over a vast verdant forest of towering redwoods as we transition down to a decrepit log cabin*
*The sounds of nature fills the atmosphere as birds sing their graceful love songs, flying elegantly overhead*
*at the entrance of the cabin we hear a slight creak as the door opens begrudgingly*
*A man walks out; with hair akin to a rat’s nest, he was as ebony as the cabin he came from. He appeared with a disheveled lightly melancholic grimace, as he trudged out each step echoing a deep longing…*
*As he shuffled, he began to reach his arms outward to stretch and take a deep breath soaking up the bright morning radiance as to ask it dearly to impart its energy upon him*
*He exhaled deeply, feeling new and energized his breath turning to an opaque mist on the cold air*
*He’d begin to walk with purpose, marching deeper into the forest hearing its pleasant ambience. Shining clear rainbow dew drops falling to lush forest floor, Monkeys letting off distant playful cries these sounds of had oddly enough become monotonous within his tenure*
*This man had made it to his goal an azure spring of shimmering water at the base of a waterfall the dull roar of the cascading waters calmed him further*
*He waltzed towards the water’s edge, gazing upon his reflection, appearing to lost in thought as if to wonder if that was actually him*
*After many years determination left his eyes. Emotions filled his face shame, fear, regret, and yet most of all despair*
*As he kneeled at the tranquil spring’s foot he cupped water within his hands and began to drink with great fervor as the water glided down his chin drenching his ragged clothes*
*After he drank his fill he began to undress.
His tattered wares were gently laid upon the soft moist dirt*
With sunlight shining down upon his toned body of the finest onyx. He entered the cold shallow water, glimmering in the sun.
A large flat pink band adored his waist and stomach and soon expanded and unfurled into a long thick tail the color of a brilliant rosé, it waved side to side helping him move through the clear serene waters of the spring*
*Within the water he felt a deep peace he hadn’t felt in quite a while. He'd been on edge ever since last afternoon. The man began to reminisce…*
*A distant dull glimmer manifested offshore and then suddenly roared to life with an intense effulgence! It had utterly… consumed… the sky… it shook the once stalwart earth beneath his feet and upset the tranquil sea. The intense shockwave brought him to his knees as if his very soul were hit!
*He'd worried if those people might have finally found him…*

Nothing special, feel free to leave feedback.

A year before I left Boston, we went for dinner one night. It was after ultimate frisbee, and Boloco was the only place open. We were still riding high from the last time, when we'd gotten everyone to swim across the Charles. Some kids from MIT had been eating grapes as they walked across the bridge, and I'd convinced them to throw some to me to try to catch in my mouth. They missed a few times before throwing down the ziplock bag, and I was able to throw one to you, which you caught.
So this time, I'd joked we should climb the fence to the reservoir and see if we could eat burritos on our backs as we swam across, like otters. You liked something I'd said, so instead of rushing it with Boloco, we wandered the grocery aisles to savor the planning. In the end, you'd proposed making a little boat by turning the frisbee upside down and duct taping two water bottles beneath as pontoons. "We could make smores," you said leaning toward me. We bought a tiki torch that we sat in the middle and then piled the rest of the frisbee with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate squares from Hershey bars. Before we left, you ran back to your car to get a sharpie. You wrote "S.S. More" on the side of one water bottle. I posed for a photo.
The platter was awkward, and we dropped a couple pieces of chocolate in the woods. But we got through the fence easily. We broke sticks for our marshmallows and you lit the torch with a lighter from your car. I remember there were these little fish that would nibble at our toes in the shallows. It was unpleasant, but it didn't quite hurt, more ticklish. I was a more confident swimmer, so I pulled the jump rope, swimming on my back, the other hand balancing my marshmallow over the carcinogenic flame.
At some point out on the water, the wind picked up and blew out the torch. We treaded water several minutes as you tried to get the lighter, wet from where you'd stuffed it into your underwear, to work. At the other side of the reservoir, we stood and those little fish nibbled at us, and you shook out the lighter hard, and lit the torch. We ate as much as we pleased, laughing the whole way back. You took a turn with the jump rope.
That summer we drove up and stayed at the cabin your great uncle owned in Maine. The cabin itself was a converted boat, where your uncle, a local politician from Florida, spent his summers with his obese wife. They were the legal guardians of your cousin, whose father disappeared again after relapsing. It was early autumn, and you'd said it was too cold to swim. But we'd go down and jump in the water with your aunt and uncle, who were convinced the cold was soothing to your aunt's gout. I taught the little boy to skip rocks, but I got him in trouble by talking in character as Scarlet O'Hara during a game of Clue, which he wouldn't stop imitating for the rest of the afternoon. His grandfather sent him outside until he stopped. When you and I went to look for him, he was trying to split logs with an axe in his flip flops. We told him not to do that because he could lose his toes, and I told him that voices were only funny for a short time.
You and I didn't sleep in the old boat cabin, which was expectedly small. Instead, we slept in an L in a 12'x12' shed with a light bulb, which hung on an extension cord from a truss. We talked until 3am or 4am, about everything, work, girls, childhood, and the things that we'd done that had finally dragged us into sobriety.
The next morning, I'd said I wanted to see if I could swim across Lewis Cove and back. As soon as I said it, you were in. You were so lean from running all the time, and before we even got past the boats and the lobster traps, you were struggling from the cold. I'd suggested going back or even climbing out on one of the docks holding traps, but you refused. In the middle, you were worried about making it across at all. I figured I could carry you, but without a float, I didn't think I could carry you very far. When we finally got to where we could stand, you got out and tried to warm up. I stayed in the water, swimming back out a little because for some reason I thought a lobster might pinch me. Eventually, I realized how violently you were shivering. So I got out too, and we decided to go find the road and try to hitchhike back.
It turned out to be one of the islands scattered along the coast of Maine. Luckily, the restaurant, the only thing on the island, hadn't yet closed for the year. The staff, who lived on the island in warm months, were shocked to see us on their day off. You asked if they were planning to take their boat across the water anytime soon. "If you're already making the trip, maybe we could carpool?" you suggested. Two of them gave us a lift in a little boat, making thinly veiled comments about the stupidity of summer people most of the way.
The next day, you slept for hours with a fever. Your aunt was angry that I'd been a bad influence. I went back out and tried to complete the round trip swim. I did it carefully, keeping my head out of the water most of the time and swimming a modified breaststroke. I thought maybe a fast pace would help keep my body temperature up. On the other side, I kicked off the rocks and swam back, and it was cold, but I was fine. Back at the cabin, you were awake and gave me a hug when I came in. We looked up the swimming route on your phone and saw that it was indeed an island, a mile and change round trip. That night we bought a few lobsters from some place along the road, which your uncle boiled in seawater.
A few weeks later, you'd tried to set me up with a girl you knew. You showed me a photo of her, a knockout blonde from Florida. You said you'd been telling her all about me and had sent her my website, and that she wanted to visit Boston and meet me. You told me what a good person she was. "She does little things you'd do, like whenever she has spare change, she goes and puts it in the coin return of vending machines so that it'll make someone's day." I asked why you weren't dating her, but you brushed me off. We started arguing somehow at Bukowski's, some comment I'd made because you'd said she routinely got favors from an infatuated ex. I'd told you it sounded like trouble, and that remembering that beauty is fleeting was why I hadn't slept my way through the ultimate frisbee club yet. We ended up finishing our White Trash Cheese Steaks in silence.
I left Boston with some girl the following summer. It fizzled in weeks, but it was years later that I realized how much you loved me. My ex-wife had been organizing photos, and had come across the picture you took of me holding the frisbee boat. She was always jealous of other women, and she asked who I was smiling at in the photo. "He was my friend."

Saan po pwede magcommute kung galing ako from Baguio and would like to go Log Cabin Camp Dangwa La Trinidad? Because I have something to do there early in the morning.

This year (for some bizarre reason), our high school reunion was held in a log cabin deep within the Miskatonic forest. After driving for about an hour, I pulled into a gravelly lot next to a rusty, Chevy cavalier. A clown who looked an awful lot like Ronald McDonald got out and walked towards my car.
“They had the latest survival horror game at my mom‘s office party last night,” said the clown. “Great,” I said. “I don’t remember you. Were you class of 2000?” “No. I never went to High School; I was home schooled by pelicans.”

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.