#i used to have a toy cat called mau mau

[fecklesheckleshacklesschmeckles]

it's official: reece wants to be bummed to death

[ffamranxii]

Sailor Stars thoughts:

1. The anime does its absolute best to make the Starlights unlikable. Taiki is a fucking asshole (he won’t even give a dying girl, who he explicitly was taken to visit, an autograph, and tells a bunch of children that their grandfather’s theory about souls becoming stars is dead wrong), Seiya is a Nice Guy who hits on Usagi constantly despite being told multiple times she has a boyfriend, and Yaten is a mildly sarcastic cardboard cutout. I know the manga doesn’t expand on them much but the anime is supposed to help make these people real. Counterexample is Chibi-Chibi, who hardly speaks in the manga and relies on her cuteness alone to be likable. They gave her a very cute voice because it was literally all they had to work with, given how often Chibi-Chibi actually appears

2. The dub cast for the Starlights is frankly awful. As civilians, Taiki alternates between a woman trying too hard to make her voice deep and having a bad cold, Seiya sounds like a prepubescent boy, and Yaten sounds like a woman (which they’re not, as civilians); as Starlights their voices are VERY high pitched, especially Yaten’s. Their sub voices just sound like woman talking a bit deeply and then normal women.

3. Why the FUCK did Toei think literally changing sex was less controversial than crossdressing? The Starlights are women and have always been women. Plus, them being male civilians in the anime creates a paradox, because if they’re men with sailor crystals who can become senshi, why can’t Mamoru - who is confirmed multiple times throughout the series as carrying the earth’s star seed and thus being Sailor Earth - do the same? Naoko said Mamoru can’t be a sailor senshi because he’s a man, but the Starlights don’t abide by this rule, they change their fucking biological sex

4. Why is absolutely no one concerned that Chibi-Chibi, a THREE YEAR OLD, just goes off on her own and has her own little adventures? She wanders into some strange old man’s house and they’re all “oh that’s just Chibi-Chibi,” and no one is worried that a literal stranger invites a three year old into his house where he gives her toys and candy? The 90s were WILD, man

5. Why does Chibi-Chibi, again who is THREE YEARS OLD, have a thigh gap?

6. This one’s on Naoko because it’s like this in the manga, but the anime is supposed to expand on the universe so I blame them too: Why does literally nobody question Chibi-Chibi’s motives? Some strange pink haired child who fucking falls out of the sky one day up and brainwashes Usagi’s mom into thinking she’s her second daughter, and nobody bats an eye at this? That’s sus as fuck and literally the only question anyone has is “is she your kid or Chibiusa’s?” She doesn’t even have a NAME, “chibi” is just a random word she says!

7. I am DIGGING the mobster feel of the Animamates’ civilian forms. Especially Iron Mouse and Tin Nyanko, who clearly launder money through a shady car dealership.

8. The Starlights’ only redeeming qualities are their snazzy entrance music and Seiya’s red suit

9. Why is Aluminum Siren the only Animamate who understands that a senshi has a pure star seeds? Like, y’all killed the senshi of your home planets to take their star seeds so YOU could be senshi (which is presumably why Galaxia wants more seeds, to make more Animamates with them), shouldn’t you know that?

10. Aluminum Siren/Lead Crow are trying their damn hardest to give Harumichi a run for their money in the quest to become the Best Space Lesbians.

11. So the Moon Kingdom fosters loyalty through child soldiers. I’m assuming Queen Serenity has her own senshi in the form of our senshi’s mothers, etc. (Which begs the question of if the Asteroid Senshi are supposed to be the future kids of our senshi or if they too are child soldiers from the asteroids they’re named after.) Kinmoku seems to foster loyalty by having the Kakyuu’s senshi fall in unrequited love with her. (In the manga it’s stated Kakyuu has a husband who died when their planet was destroyed.) I mean, whatever works, right?

12. I LOVE Tin Nyanko’s dub voice. She’s only around Usagi’s age and she sounds it

13. The dub actress for Lead Crow seems like she’s half assing it. Her voice doesn’t raise properly when she yells, she never sounds really angry, and it’s just so odd. I find a lot of dub voices do this, while the original Japanese VAs will scream their lungs out into the mic

14. On the reverse, Galaxia’s voice actress is a badass. She’s supposed to have a deep menacing voice but I like the one they gave her in the dub. She’s quiet, and sounds almost kind, and that’s a fucking TERRIFYING sort of villain we don’t see a lot of. Even when she’s pissed she doesn’t raise her voice.

15. Why are Lead Crow and Tim Nyanko the same height? Lead Crow is like 5’10 and Tin Nyanko is 4’11 like Sailor Moon

16. As an aside, Tin Nyanko and Lead Crow don’t like each other, which reminds me of the cats vs crows trash can showdown in Haikyuu lol

17. Haruka’s hate boner for Seiya gives me life

18. FINALLY someone calls the Starlights out on being assholes but it’s only after Makoto sees them harassing a THREE YEAR OLD (Chibi-Chibi). Literally everyone BUT Usagi thinks they’re assholes. “They sing such beautiful songs!” Bro. You can sing pretty and still be a fucking dick.

19. Lead Crow goes after Sailor Moon only after reading Siren’s notebook. Ditzy SIREN is the smartest Animamate, lord help them

20. Kakyuu’s dub voice is SO GOOD. She’s my favorite minor character, I’m still bitter they didn’t show Sailor Kakyuu

21. Seiya’s crush on Usagi was so awkwardly shoehorned in. I hate it. Jesus fucking Christ Usagi is sobbing in the goddamn rain about how much she misses Mamoru and Seiya is STILL coming onto her.

22. It is literally so fucking funny to me that Mamoru spends all of Stars fucking dead. He’s just a perpetual damsel in distress.

23. Rei literally lectures Usagi about leading Seiya on and how “you need to do the right thing and tell him you already have someone,” AS IF USAGI HASN’T BEEN DOING THAT AT EVERY AVAILABLE OPPORTUNITY. THE FIRST TIME THEY MET SHE SAID SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND, SHE’S TOLD SEIYA OVER AND OVER THAT SHE ISN’T INTERESTED IN HIM, THAT SHE’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, THAT SHE LOVES HER BOYFRIEND. The fucking MISOGYNY here, like it’s Usagi leading Seiya on instead of Seiya being a fucking Nice Guy who can’t take no for a goddamn answer. Shut the fuck up, Rei.

24. Pretty sure under Kakyuu’s headdress is a pair of odango

25. The fact that Iron Mouse and Aluminum Siren both die when their bracelets are removed yet Tin Nyanko doesn’t implies that Tin Nyanko was the original Sailor Mau. Mouse and Siren dying implies that forcing senshi powers on a civilian is dangerous and that Galaxia’s bracelets are the only thing keeping them alive (albeit brainwashed). Yet Tin Nyanko seems to revert to “good” when one of her bracelets is destroyed. Galaxia has to intervene and kill her personally. Tin Nyanko may have offered her senshi powers to spare Mau (this applies only in the anime; in the manga she’s explicitly said to have killed Sailor Mau)

26. Oooh Galaxia’s angry voice is so commanding and sexy

27. Don’t gimme that “we love Usagi but we love you Starlights just as much.” No you fucking don’t. The whole death scene in the anime is just so... ugh. Bad.

28. The Outers fighting Galaxia is hilarious. They’re supposed to be stronger than the Inners yet Galaxia never even has to get out of her chair to kick their asses. The writers were trying real hard to make us fear the worst and back the senshi into a corner but literally they’ve made this an impossible battle to win that only becomes winnable due to plot armor.

29. Rewatching Stars and classic after Eternal and Crystal makes me miss the battle damage the fuku took. The new series always has them looking pristine, but in classic they actually get roughed up and battle scarred. It makes it more real.

30. Aww how come Uranus and Neptune got to keep their names when they joined Galaxia? I wanna know what whack ass Animamate name they would’ve gotten. (Also Galaxia literally just sent them out like Pokémon, wtf)

31. I feel like Saturn dying shouldn’t be possible since she’s literally a senshi of death but... whatever, go off I guess.

32. So.... Uranus and Neptune joining Galaxia to try and take her star seed is a cool idea that absolutely did not happen in the manga, and needed more than half an episode of development. Would’ve been a cool plot if it wasn’t so rushed.

33. So much of this season was rushed so they could tie the series up at a beat 200 episodes. If they really didn’t want to go over 200, they should’ve cut the Nehelennia arc (which isn’t in the manga anyway) and and focused on developing the Animamates, this sweet Harumichi betrayal plot, and explaining Chibi-Chibi??? Her existence makes no sense without Sailor Cosmos, and they just... didn’t include her??? Wtf

[where-the-wilds-things-are]

Nutmeg’s Lineage

Since this au is based on her having literal wild-cat blood, this is Nutmeg’s Family Tree, including photos! This will be updated when more her family gets bigger down the line, so this will be under a cut. 

This fine lad right here is her father, Addae, a serval. He might have a collar, but he’s not what you call a kitty pet. Saw Marmalade as a brief friend and was sad when he had to leave. Would be proud of them if he somehow met his descendants. Said Grandson will inherit his green eyes. Fish is his favorite food, and don’t touch his stuffed toy mouse if you like having an identifiable face.

This cat right here is Marmalade, a Ginger Siamese cat. Her owners paid Good money for her to have Savannah F1 litter with Addae. Had a four kit litter with him, all she-cats, with Nutmeg being the firstborn and later grew to be the largest. Her granddaughter will inherit her blue eyes. Saw Nutmeg all grown up one day and couldn’t have been prouder.

The girl of the hour herself, Nutmeg. An F1 Savannah cat. Originally she was supposed to have an Egyptian Mau mate by her owners but Jake caught her eye and thus had Firestar and Deerleap! ( Princess ). Said owners got busted for very shady and illegal shit and booked it before the what her owners called the “The Heat” surrounded her home. Would hide deep in the alleyways and will later have a group of town cats under her command... Small trivia, she knows what vehicles and other things like Highways are, and knows a lot of human cursing too.

Firestar, the cat kicked started this series! Here, his rivalry with Tigerclaw is... interesting. I mean the latter hates the former’s guts still but bitterly respects him for his size, strength, and prowess. That and it’s hard to intimate a guy and his sister who’s bigger than you. Pelt becomes redder under the Sun. Also, doesn’t take shit like his canon self and will give you this look when he thinks you are being stupid and won’t say a thing.*Note. I’m aware that F1 through F4 males are apparently sterile but this is a series that has cats talking, fighting, two damn afterlives and more. Him being fertile shouldn’t break SoD.

Princess now called Deerleap, is just as outgoing as her brother. Don’t let her kind nature fool you, she’s the type that will stab you as a warning if pushed. Is paler than her brother and mother, and has her Grandmother’s blue eyes. Is the best birdcatcher the clan has ever seen. Like her mother, she picked up human cursing from her and Rusty’s owners. While more restrained than her mom she will use them if need be.

[believermag]

Who Will Think of the Children?

Jim Knipfel on Satire and Children’s Books

This past September, the Abrams’ imprint Image, which specializes in illustrated and reference works, published a novelty book entitled Bad Little Children’s Books by the pseudonymous Arthur Gackley. The small hardcover, which itself quite deliberately resembled a little golden book, featured carefully-rendered and patently offensive parodies of classic children's book covers. Instead of happy, apple-cheeked tykes doing pleasant wholesome things, Gackley’s covers featured kids farting, puking, and using drugs. Others included children with dildoes and racially inflammatory portrayals of Middle Eastern, Asian, and Native American youngsters. The book was clearly labeled a work of satire aimed at adults, and adults with a certain tolerance for bad taste and crass jokes.

Upon its initial release it received positive reviews and sold fairly well. Then in early December, a former librarian named Kelly Jensen posted an entry on Bookriot entitled “It’s Not Funny. It’s Racist.”  

“This kind of 'humor' is never acceptable,” Ms. Jensen wrote. “It’s deadly.”

Jensen’s rant circulated quickly across social media, and Abrams suddenly found itself besieged by attacks from the outraged and offended, who assailed Gackley for creating the book in the first place, and the Abrams editorial board for agreeing to publish it.

“There is a difference between ‘hate speech’ and free speech,” one outraged member of the kidlit comunity wrote on Facebook. “In the same way, you cannot yell ‘Fire!’ in a crowded theater just because you feel like it. This book was in very bad, insulting, racist taste, and designed to look like a children's book. How is that a good idea? Children are too young to understand this as parody. If it's for adults, why is that even funny? Oh, I guess if you are a racist you would think it's funny.”

Another tweeted, “Sounds like something that should've been completely ignored and removed before it hit the shelves. Just because we have the freedom of speech, it can be taken way too far.”

Still another confused and enervated soul wrote, “Argue all that you want, but this particular book was for children yes? Or no? If it was, does that mean we should allow and subject young children to gratuitous violence, gore and pornography? And what age is it acceptable? Does this mean we have to start putting PG-14 on printed material and make it mandatory because certain writers can't conduct themselves with a moral scale?”

Another angry reader summed it up quite simply by posting, “Freedom is bullshit, literally.”

[Note: As much as possible, the spelling, punctuation and grammatical errors which peppered the above posts have been corrected here for the sake of simple comprehensibility.]

Although Abrams initially stood by Gackley and the First Amendment right to offend, and had received the public support of several anti-censorship organizations, by December tenth the noise had simply grown too shrill. Mr. Gackley, maintaining to the end his intentions had been grossly misinterpreted, admitted there was no way to salvage things, and asked that Abrams not reprint the book. In a statement, Abrams announced they would be complying with his wishes. Although Bad Little Children’s Books was not banned in any official capacity, it had all but completely vanished from online booksellers within a few days after the announcement. Used copies, while available, are now selling for outrageous prices.

At the same time that this was happening, there were also calls to ban the (real) children’s books When We Was Fierce and A Birthday Cake for George Washington. The invented slang used in the former was interpreted as racist by some parent groups, and the latter was attacked for its historically inaccurate portrayal of the daily lives of slaves on Washington’s estate. Meanwhile, a mother in Tennessee led the call to pull Rebecca Skloot’s The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks from the local school system. The New York Times bestselling biography, which concerned a Baltimore woman whose massive cervical tumor had become the invaluable source of several generations worth of cell lines used by cancer researchers, was being taught in local high schools as a means of educating students both about cancer and about racial issues within the medical community. The Tennessee mother calling for its removal, however, found the book pornographic.

Point being, I guess, that certain sectors of the population harbor an insatiable, even desperate desire to be shocked and offended by something they’ve read, seen, or even heard about, and the drive to ban these things (made much easier with the advent of social media) will likely always be with us. But back to the Gackley for a moment. Reading through the enraged postings aimed at Abrams, a number of the offended make the point that they are not attempting to censor, but are merely exercising their own First Amendment right to criticize. That’s fine and understandable. But the crux of the matter is that these people would be much happier if the book never existed in the first place, and considered Abrams’ decision a glorious victory for their cause.

Let’s try to put it in some sort of semi-comprehensible historical context. Dark and occasionally tasteless adult-oriented satires of children’s books, television and toys have been with us about as long as media aimed specifically at the innocent set. We just can’t help ourselves. Present us with the doe-eyed lukewarm treacle of the Smurfs or Care Bears, and some of us will instinctively reach for a baseball bat. In the case of Bad Little Children’s Books, the outrage in many instances seems to be sparked less by the content than form, and the fear that the book might actually be mistaken for legitimate kidlit. So here are a handful of similar cases from the last half-century. While reactions and results differ wildly, a certain historical pattern does seem to emerge.

Ralph Bakshi’s 1972 animated feature Fritz the Cat, based on the R. Crumb character, became notorious overnight for being the first theatrically-released cartoon to receive an X rating from the MPAA. What people tend to forget is that the film received the distinction not on account of its sexual content, nor because it included characters who were overtly racist, misogynistic drug addicts who cursed a lot. The real problem was the film featured cute and fuzzy animals who were racist, misogynistic drug addicts who cursed a lot, and had sex. The MPAA board was afraid people would see the cartoon poster and stroll into the theater, family in tow, expecting the latest Disney opus. By modern standards the film should have received nothing more than an R rating, but the damning “adults only” designation was an effort to avoid any confusion. It didn’t matter. People saw the X rating and immediately concluded Bakshi had made a hardcore cartoon in a diabolical effort to corrupt the nation’s youth. Although the publicity attracted large audiences and earned the film an undeniable bit of underground cred, that same publicity did irreparable damage to Bakshi’s career. For decades afterward, even while trying to redeem himself with the family-friendly Mighty Mouse cartoon series for TV, he found himself labeled a racist, sexist pornographer determined to get America’s young people hooked on heroin—charges leveled at him mostly by people who had never seen Fritz the Cat.

Long before he won a Pulitzer for Maus and became a regular contributor to The New Yorker, cartoonist Art Spiegelman spent twenty years working for the Topps trading card company. Among other things, he was one of the primary creative forces behind Topps' wildly popular and wickedly subversive Wacky Packages series, which satirized American consumer products. In 1985, Topps attempted to arrange a licensing deal to release a series of trading cards based on Cabbage Patch Dolls, which were all the rage at the time. Finding licensing fees had already gone through the roof, they decided instead to release a Wacky Packages-style parody. As it happened, an unreleased Wacky Packages design called Garbage Pail Kids was already on the boards, so they ran with it.

Spiegelman and the involved artists took the basic design of the cuddly and adorable plush dolls beloved by all the world and twisted them into deranged monstrosities covered in snot, vomit, oozing sores and bugs. From the moment they hit convenience store checkout counters, the GPK stickers were outrageously popular. Although some school systems banned them as an unwelcome distraction and more than a few parents were mortified and disgusted that any sick individual would do such a horrible thing to something so innocent and cuddly, there was no organized grassroots effort to censor the stickers on moral grounds. Topps' only real trouble came in the form of a copyright infringement suit filed by the Cabbage Patch Dolls’ creators, Original Appalachian Artworks, Inc.

Topps’ argument that what they were doing was clear and obvious parody (and therefore protected under the First Amendment) didn’t quite cut it. The suit was settled out of court, with Topps agreeing to alter the Garbage Pail Kids logo and basic character design so as to avoid any possible confusion with the original dolls. The stickers continued to come out, and went on to inspire an animated television series, a feature film, a book and an unholy array of merchandise ranging from trash cans to sunglasses. In the end, it could easily be argued that over time the Garbage Pail Kids had more of a lasting impact on the culture than their inspiration.

Struwwelpeter was first published in Germany in 1845. The cautionary and terrifying collection of nursery rhymes (with graphic accompanying illustrations to drive the point home) warned children that if they sucked their thumnbs, didn’t eat their dinner, didn’t clean themselves up properly, mistreated their pets or threw tantrums, a horrible fate awaited them. The book became a standard instructional volume in most German households with young children. In 1898, a similar but decidedly British version was released in England under the title Shockheaded Peter, and was nearly as popular. Nobody it seemed thought much about presenting naughty children with images of potential disfigurement or death. The book helped keep the little buggers in line.

In 1999, American indie publisher Feral House released a gorgeous new edition of Struwwelpeter, complete with new illustrations, interpretive and historical essays, and assorted bowdlerized and satirical versions of the nursery rhymes which had appeared over the years. Feral House, which had always prided itself on publishing dangerous and controversial works, soon found this simple history and analysis of a once popular if disturbing children’s book could be just as troublesome as their books by notorious British serial killer Ian Brady or the Church of Satan’s Anton LaVey.

“Yes, we had minor trouble with Struwwelpeter,” says Feral House founder and publisher Adam Parfrey.  “But most of that was put to rest when bookstores simply refused to carry the book. I guess 21st century Americans are more touchy than the Germans of yore. For a while, a couple chains and many independent bookstores stopped carrying the Anton LaVey books we published after Geraldo Rivera put on those sensationalist programs about Satanism... I credit Marilyn Manson for putting an end to that crap. After he spoke out about it, so many people went into bookstores to order them that the stores saw best to get them back into their shops. Time passed, and the crazy ideas receded.”

Parfrey also sees a potential connection between the backlash Abrams suffered over Bad Little Children’s Books and the present brouhaha over what has been termed “fake news.”

“Right now there’s a good bit of madness going on with Trump-loving crazies, including Alex Jones and Infowars building up this idea that Hillary Clinton and John Podesta are torturing and killing children…and they’re pointing at Marina Abramović, too. That’s a big deal on Facebook at this instant. And anyone who poo-poos this story is being accused of covering up kiddie killing. I can see how this sort of madness can amplify into the book trade, a situation where parodies are mistaken for outright kiddie torture. Sad, isn’t it?”

As a final example, in 2010 Simon and Schuster published my book These Children Who Come at You With Knives, a collection of darkly comic fairy tales aimed at adults. Across roughly a dozen stories written in traditional fairy tale formats (though with more cursing, gratuitous gore, and uncontrolled bodily functions), assorted anthropomorphized animals, magical creatures, human children, the elderly and the dull-witted come to various terrible ends. The book received decent reviews and publicity, but there was no outcry, no controversy, and no one insisted the book be banned in order to protect the innocent. Meaning, of course, that I didn’t sell millions as a result of the hoo-hah.  Christ, I’ve even heard from people who use them as bedtime stories for their own kids. Dammit! What the hell did I do wrong?

I think I made two deadly mistakes. First, despite my best efforts to the contrary, my publisher decided to release the book without illustrations, meaning it could never possibly be confused with an actual children’s book. More devastating still, I was cursed with bad timing. These Children Who Come at You With Knives was released halfway through President Obama’s first term, and while there was certainly a good deal of rancor in the air, satire was still a viable form and accepted as such, at least among the literate. 

In different eras and in different ways, all the above examples were damned by a public inflicting its own preconceived notions upon works of obvious satire, insisting they be what the public believed them to be instead of what they actually were. 

By the time Bad little Children’s Books was released, the world had become too ridiculous, too absurd, and as a result we lost our sense of humor. There was simply no longer any way to lampoon our chosen leaders or our own insecurities, with the world itself poised and ready to top us at every turn. In short, the book’s publication coincided with the precise moment satire breathed its last, meaning readers had no choice but to take Gackley’s work, as Parfrey points out, at face value. Lucky bastard.

Jim Knipfel is the author of Slackjaw, These Children Who Come at You with Knives, The Blow-Off, and several other books, most recently Residue (Red Hen Press, 2015). his work has appeared in New York Press, the Wall Street Journal, the Village Voice and dozens of other publications.

[letsgomaybe]

November 3, 2007

DST!

Daylight Savings Time is tomorrow at 2am. I set the clocks back early! :P ((Watch out, we got a mad lad over here))

Today mom and I went to a cat show. The cats were beautiful! There was one that mom said looked like a zebra but it didn’t. It was grey! I don’t know what that breed is called, but I think it’s an Egyptian type. There were also some really cute Egyptian Mau kittens. If I ever get a pedigree cat, I want one that’s one of those breeds.

We also got Circe a new toy at the show. It has bells and it stretches out. It’s really cool!

I think it would be awesome to enter a cat in a contest and get a ribbon. The ribbons are really fancy!

Mom keeps trying to get me to wash my face. I don’t need to! All right, I have mild acne, but I wash my face when I take a shower! All right, I take a shower every other day, but that’s enough, right? All right, it isn’t enough, but Grandma says it is! Grandma is always right. Right? ((Literally everything you said was wrong))

Today’s completely unrelated statement: This statement is sort of related to the passage, but I used way too many All right…, but sentence structures in the last paragraph.

-I also used the word “right” way too much.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 797

Will you be my valentine?

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

The Valentine’s Day breakfast included mini heart-shaped red velvet pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries, poached eggs with a leftover-avocado-based faux hollandaise sauce over tomato and toast, and little parfaits with yogurt, oats, honey, chia, and blueberries. It was served to André and Lukas and Lukas’ Valentine’s teddy bear in bed, after the morning sex with the older one and the morning diaper change with the younger one. They all ate together under the covers and watched DVR’d episodes of Die Sendung mit der Maus, which André insisted was the little boy’s favorite TV program for obvious reasons.

He was in a fantastically good mood by noon, and it wasn’t because he was like Christina and got the same kind of antidepressant benefits from orgasms, or at least not just because of that. André was elated because a solution he came up with for a problem was actually working, they were able to build on that solution to make a change that could potentially fix another problem, and they were doing it together. That is how relationships are supposed to work, he thought. His wife finally did the best she could to honestly and completely explain to him how she was feeling, he listened intently, internalized it, came up with a solution, she tried it out, they gave it time, and it seemed to be working. It was working well enough at least to try the same strategy to fix the next problem, and that was a decision they made together really, since Christina consulted him in her evidence gathering and conclusion phases. The player was sure that the fundamental structure of their relationship couldn’t be cracked if it was functioning on such a high level. Even if his wife was right and he was wrong- that living together again and getting Dirk back to the top wouldn’t eliminate their habit of expecting their worst instincts about one another to be confirmed and letting that lead to damaging arguments, he refused to believe that they could be in any serious trouble if they were so good at working together to get to a good place.

“Should we think about getting up and doing something soon?” Christina yawned after finishing her second coffee. Nobody wanted to get out of bed. Even Lukas was content to stay there. He had toys to play with and parents to stop him from falling off the mattress.

“It’s raining and it looks cold out.” André believed his weather statement was a sufficient answer. His time with his family was limited. Soon he would have to venture out in the rain and the cold and go train with his teammates.

“You don’t want to go...somewhere?” His wife really didn’t have designs on getting up either, but she felt kind of bad about coming to visit and spending their whole day in bed, especially since she had nothing to do once he left anyway. There was no flight back to London until morning so she and the baby were staying at the apartment without him that night.

“I really just want Mausi to need to have a nap so that I can f-u-c-k you again now that I’m actually awake. I feel like the proper way to celebrate Valentine’s is to let your girl sit on your face for a while and then c-u-m on hers.” The footballer used his expansive reach to slap her butt as she leaned over to put her empty mug on the nightstand.

“Wow. Much romance.” She rolled her eyes at his crudeness, but wasn’t turned off by it.

“I did order flowers for you, Prinzessin. I don’t know why they’re not here yet.” Seriously, where are her flowers, he thought, checking the time on his phone. I picked morning delivery so she doesn’t feel left out when all her girlfriends are Instagramming theirs. And because she’s not going to be here for very long to enjoy looking at them.

“It’s kind of a busy day for flowery deliver guys.” Christina scooted down the bed to lie completely flat and relish what that did for her spine. She also wiggled her toes and moved her feet around to distract Lukas from the tower he was trying to build with snap blocks like giant LEGOs. He followed and tried to capture her feet under the comforter the way a cat might.

“Does he look sleepy to you?”

“No.”

“What if we gave him more food? Post-lunch nap?”

“That would require me getting up to make him something.”

“I could do it.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”  

André took Lukas and Dave to the kitchen to make a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. Hot, heavy, cheesy food often brought on a nap for the little blonde whose hair was darkening seemingly by the day. Like his father, his locks changed in winter. While the boys cooked, Mom gave in and unplugged her phone to address whatever matters were waiting for her on it, and to send her other valentine a message.

“Hi hello buenos días will you be my valentine?” she wrote with the pink heart and lipstick stain emojis. She also sent him a kissy-face selfie while reclining in multiple pillows, and didn’t even care that her hair was a mess, she had no makeup on, and probably looked as if she just woke up. It was Juan and he was supposed to be her friendly valentine, so it didn’t matter. He immediately sent one back, but he was in the dressing room at Cobham and evidently just about to head out for training based on his cold weather protections. His tongue was sticking out and his eyes were blank, so the overall impression was funny and made her laugh.

“Many women have sent me roses and chocolate. I have not yet decided which one gets my heart. Send a gift and I will consider your application. Bye.”

He’s funny today, Christina snickered to herself. And he’s gotten a haircut. Thank god. He’s so much prettier when the sides are short. What gift shall I send him? She put the phone down for a second to fix her underwear. The seam around the side was stuck somewhere it didn’t belong, likely from her rolling about in bed for hours. Fixing her “front wedgie” inspired an idea for a gift for Juan in keeping with the theme of the day, if not with her designation of the Spaniard as her friendly valentine. There was her main valentine, André, her special valentine, Lukas, and then her many animal valentines too. Dirk was always one of her valentines, for example. Her friendly valentine was going to get a Valentine’s Day gift fitting with the nature of their friendship. She pushed her blanket down and snapped a photo of some of her fingers reaching into her little black underwear and pulling it down a bit, and sent it back with “bye” to match his message.

The photo itself sort of matched one he sent to her before Christmas, and which she saved. Neither photo included a face. For Christina that meant she didn’t have to worry about him showing anyone hers, and that André couldn’t have a cow about the one she saved. The photo album on his phone was dotted with anonymous sexy photos he kept from Instagram. They were both allowed to look at other people like that, and enjoy them. It only bothered the rider when the player did things like pause their foreplay to take a picture, like at Christmas. Then she thought he was getting too into the Instagram girls and wanted her to be like them. Otherwise, she didn’t care what he enjoyed looking at and the reverse was true too. Having the photo she’d just taken on her phone would be significantly harder to explain to him than the one of Juan’s anonymous crotch though. It had to be deleted right away. Christina thought of it like Juan’s hiding her toothbrush in his bathroom. He didn’t hide it because he was doing anything wrong, but because it was harder to explain it than not.

“Chriiiiiiiiis? Does the baby like mustard?” André asked loudly from the kitchen, highlighting a fundamental difference in the kind of Valentine’s Day she was having and the kind she could have been having.

“Not really,” Lukas’ mom shouted back. V-Day is breakfast in bed with a toddler, and the toys used are blocks and action figures rather than ones you order online and come in discreet packaging. It’s waiting for flowers to be delivered, and hoping the kid needs a nap so we can spend time alone. I bet V-Day with Juan would include some obscure kind of roses hand-delivered by him to the library he’d tell me to meet him at so he can show me some weirdly relevant and incredibly romantic or beautiful book, and then dinner somewhere dark and cozy, to be followed by the most intense hour of his face between my legs, and-

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” The BVB man appeared in the doorway to halt her mind’s wandering.

“He’ll eat it but he doesn’t really love it,” she told him about the mustard.

“Okay. Are you hungry again yet? Do you want a sandwich too?”

“No.”

“Are you starting without me?” her partner smiled. The blanket was still folded down away from her lap, and her left hand was back in her underwear. It wasn’t really doing anything significant in there, or even out of the ordinary. The girl who never wore pants in the house often touched herself idly and without purpose. She didn’t even realize she was doing it when André called her out. She had her email open and was thinking about the alternative Valentine’s Day celebration style.

“Yeah, hurry up,” she laughed nonetheless. Thinking about the dichotomy of her celebration and the one she could have had wasn’t about the differences between being with the German and being with the Spaniard. Her reflection was more about the fact that she had a son who would forever color things like holidays. They made the decision to make all their decisions include a third person, and that still felt oppressive to her at times. Her Valentine’s Day morning wasn’t bad, or unsatisfactory. Christina loved making heart-shaped pancakes for her boys, and she loved playing games with them. The loved-up-couple-with-no-kids-style way to enjoy the Hallmark holiday wasn’t any better, or more appealing. It was just another thing for her to think about- to fuel her borderline lamentation of the way things were when she wondered about how they might have been. That was one source of anxiety that André couldn’t do anything about. There was no way to remove a wall or remove a distraction and take that away the way he did for her with her feelings for Juan, or the way they arrived together at the decision to drop some of her sponsors.

Father and son returned a few minutes later with a warm sandwich and a sippy cup of warm milk. André was pulling out all the stops. A heavy meal could force a nap, and warm milk usually made Lukas think it was bedtime. That was a trick both parents employed when he woke up in the middle of the night. Both were aware that no scientific evidence supports the old wives’ tale that warm milk puts a baby to sleep. It was the habit that worked. Christina knew pumping the kid full of cheese and milk was going to make for a pretty gross diaper situation later on, but his dad was so keen to knock him out that she didn’t have the heart to complain about the method. She felt it would be silly and foolish to admonish him for trying everything he knew how so that they could be alone together again before he had to leave. His tactics worked. Lukas passed out and was delivered to his crib. Her flowers showed up too. Two-dozen baby pink roses in a white cardboard bucket arrived for her with a heart-shaped tin of dark chocolate covered pretzels, which she then wanted to eat more than she wanted to have more sex. The footballer had to take them away from her.

“You said you want me to sit on your face. I can sit on your face and eat pretzels at the same time,” she pouted as he walked away with her present. Not fair. You can’t give a girl chocolate on V-Day and then not even let her eat it! Especially when you have it delivered and it shows up late. He could have gotten me chocolate yesterday and had it here when I got up, and then I’d be full of chocolate by now and free for sex. That was just delinquent planning on his part. At least the flowers are pretty, she thought forlornly, glancing to her right at the pink blooms on the nightstand. André came back and went directly to the foot of the bed, from which he crawled between his girl’s legs. She bent her knees and captured his head with her thighs, and moved them back and forth just to be annoying. His beard brushed across her crotch but thankfully for her it was so soft at its longest by his chin that it didn’t poke through her underwear. Even her own hair poked through it from the other side when it was long-ish.

“You’re totally not in the mood for this, are you?” he questioned dejectedly while she laughed at him. His face stuck between her legs and being dragged right and left was unavoidably funny.

“What happened to deep conditioning your hair? Did I make your mom go buy coconut oil for nothing?” The amused rider released her partner’s head and reached forward to fluff his messy hair. It was too long for her taste. He spaced out his trims more in winter because he was always so cold. That affected shape. His head got kind of wide and square at the top, and the longest hair got longer and somehow exaggerated how far back his part started, giving the illusion of a hairline on the march.

“Did you just finish your period? Did you have it between last week and now? Or did you just fuck Juan like every day in between?” The poofy haired blonde sank down to rest his chin on her pubic bone and his cheek on her left thigh. His blue eyes looked mostly sad. I hope it’s one of those two things, he thought. Because if it’s not then it means she’s not into me right now, or not into sex in general, and I thought women are supposed to be approaching their sexual peak at her age. She can’t be going down the other side of that mountain already. That would ruin my life.

“No to both,” Christina frowned. “Why do you think that because I’m not foaming at the mouth to have sex the entire time I’m with you that it means I- I don’t even know. I don’t know what you think it means. I just see it upsetting you.”

“Because I miss being with you so much when you’re not here. We just got our sex life like back into shape over the holidays, right at the end, and I miss it. You come here to me with no appetite for it though, and-“

“That’s not true!” Her complaint was both sad and defensive because she felt unjustly persecuted. “You thought I was reluctant to have sex when I was here a week ago?”

“No, but-“

“Exactly. I wasn’t into it last night because we had a fight, and because I was processing that, and tired from that. We had sex this morning. It was really nice. I don’t understand why it’s a major problem for you that I asked about your hair just now instead of ripping my clothes off and opening my legs in response to you suggesting I’m not in the mood “for this”. Is it just Juan? You think he’s getting all the sex and you’re not?”

“It’s hard not to at least consider that.”

“I’ve been with him one time in a month and a half.”

“Okay.”

“Why did you tell me that arrangement wouldn’t be a problem if it’s clearly a problem?”

“It’s not a problem, Prinzessin.” André shook his head and freed himself from between the rather nice thighs in favor of lying next to their owner. “I’m sorry. It’s easier for me to think it’s his fault that you don’t jump me when you have the chance than it is to accept that it’s my own fault,” he sighed from the pillow next to her.

“It’s not your fault!” Christina groaned back at the ceiling. “There isn’t even an “it”. I wanted to play with your hair and it reminded me that we were going to condition it today with the coconut and the yogurt and honey. I wasn’t trying to get out of anything! Stop being such a baby,” she urged with a pat on his stomach, her tone softening. “I know it’s hard with the team when you don’t get to play much and prove yourself, but you don’t have that situation with me. Turn off the insecurity for a minute, okay? You know better. Relax. And then give me my pretzels back. The least you can do if you’re going to have a breakdown over nothing is give me a delicious snack to enjoy in the meantime, damn it.”

“You’re my favorite person,” the player declared as he clumsily engulfed her head in his arms for a hug. This is why I need her around. She stops me when I’m stupid instead of getting upset about it. It’s just so easy to feel like nobody wants anything to do with me right now though. It’s easy to assume it’s the same with her. It isn’t. Chris isn’t like the people who are only interested when you’re doing something good for them, or solving their problems. And it’s not even like she has to try. She doesn’t get bothered.

“I could be eating pretzels right now while you’re getting over yourself and suffocating me. It would be a challenge, but I’m up for it.”

“Will it be a good Valentine’s Day if I let you go get the pretzels and eat them while I eat you?” He released her head and grabbed a breast to jiggle under her shirt, his concern and anxiety both assuaged. That brief panic was gone, mostly because his wife’s sarcastic prodding and refusal to let him drag them into a serious conflict were stronger than his self-doubt.

“Yeah I guess but it would be a stellar V-Day if you got up and got the pretzels for me since you are the one who took them away in the first place, you mean lazy ogre.”

“Mean lazy ogre? Really? That’s what you’re going with?”  

“Go get my pretzels!” Christina kicked her feet and pounded the mattress with her fists- a proper tantrum that made her Valentine laugh at her first, and then sneak a quick kiss before getting out of bed to fetch the chocolate covered pretzels. In his opinion, she was allowed to do put-on tantrums if the primary reason for them was actually to end an awkward or unhappy situation, and that’s what she was up to. The pretzels weren’t that important. They were a convenient pivot, and when he returned them to her she took her underwear off and invited him to have a field day, no need to discuss who wanted who and how much, and no need to make an awkward transition from fighting to foreplay.

She literally ate pretzels while he licked, sucked, and fingered her to the point where she didn’t need the chocolate and salt anymore and abandoned the tin of treats in favor of making some of André’s favorite sounds, and pulling his dry hair. He thought about leaving her there, on the edge of satisfaction, so that he could enjoy the way she got when she was desperate. He could skip directly to the main event and make her wait until he caught up to her, which would mean begging, sexy pleading faces, taking matters into her own hands, whining, etc., all of which he loved to see, hear, and experience. He loved to be needed that badly. He loved when she just tried to use him to get herself off. But there was an upside to getting her off with just his mouth and fingers too, right away. Christina always felt a deep need to return the satisfaction after a particularly good orgasm. It would get her going again. She’d be diligent, creative, and sensitive to what worked. The BVB man decided he wanted that treatment. He wanted her to enjoy her orgasm and then switch places with him to show the same kind of love with her mouth and fingers. Then he could be lazy and calm too, with nothing to do but recline and be taken care of, or perhaps eat some pretzels.

A midday blowjob of the highest quality was another reminder for him why he desperately needed to get the whole family into one house. After having his fun, and after Christina washed her face, the couple had a serious talk about the move. They called Zoe to get some details, and consulted Tom, Isandro, and the kids. Isandro was tasked with organizing and packing equipment and supplies at home while the horses were in Sweden, though they would still be coming home after. Tom was in charge of getting bedding, hay, and grain delivered to the new place, and making a final decision on hiring another groom. Stefanie and Christina would go over on the first of March, a few days after Sweden, to take “delivery” of the kids’ new apartment and help Tom get stalls ready for the first horse delivery. They were going to ship 5 and 5, split over several days, and use the extra space in the hauler for cargo. That way they didn’t end up with 10 horses and massive amounts of stuff to put away at once. While that was going on, Zoe’s people would be unloading the entire contents of the London house, which they would pack while the rider was in Sweden first and then down in Spain at Juan’s house for the couple of days in between the show and Dortmund. Christina would have Thursday and Friday to calmly get things ready for horses, and then the weekend to alternate between getting her horses settled in and working with her decorator to get the stuff into the new house.

It would surely be total chaos, but André figured chaos might be the best strategy. If his wife got overwhelmed or frustrated with what was happening at the house, she could go boss people around at the barn instead, and vice versa, rather than be trapped doing one or the other and having to get it done so that she could move onto the next one. And it left plenty of time to get situated and formulate a routine before the circus would need to get its act together to go to Omaha for the World Cup Final, god willing. Once the animals and the stuff were in the proper places, they’d just have to worry about getting all the kids moved. Kyle didn’t have much to take with him since the furniture in the cottage belonged to Christina and André and wasn’t moving. André offered to pay for a pod-type moving service for Stefanie and Espen so that they could just load all their stuff into a big container and have it picked up and delivered to their new places, though the latter didn’t actually have a new place yet, so hers would go to the house. The nanny was going to be staying full time with the family for a bit anyway while everyone got settled. That eliminated a headache for his wife, so he was happy to do it.

All that was left to be sorted was the Hazard ponies. Christina needed to find a facility for them with a good trainer and plenty of kids so that Yannis and Leo would still love to go ride, and Wizzy and Cornflakes would be maintained for them in the right way. She was going to keep Isandro on to look after them until that happened. Having just two ponies to take care of would give him plenty of time to work on finding another gig. That situation was the hardest on Christina. She didn’t want to say goodbye to her guy. She knew his next job probably wouldn’t be the same. It really upset her to have to force him out of the family, so to speak. Her partner had a secret plan for that. He was going to try to lure their stable manager to Germany too, even though he didn’t want to be further from his daughter. Tom told him on the low that he would be fine working with the Argentine and splitting the roles at in the new barn. It would be significantly more expensive to have them both on, however, compared to just Tom and a less qualified groom/laborer. The cost only factored into the footballer’s thinking because his wife’s riding was about to become less lucrative. If she ended some sponsor relationships then she was giving up some of her regular income- the kind not dependent on her success in the show ring. It wasn’t going to be a struggle to afford that kind of situation. It just wasn’t going to look all that intelligent on paper, especially in light of how much they spent on the new property without selling the old one. André considered that his headache. That was his problem to bear. He had to figure out how to make the numbers work. He promised Christina that she could have everything she wanted and that it would all work out perfectly, so it was on him to make it tenable, with the help of his agent and financial planner, of course. The three of them still needed to figure out what to do with the London estate too. André didn’t want to sell it, nor see it rot away while out of service, or ruined by a temporary tenant.

“The next time I see you, you’re here for good,” he smiled at her while saying goodbye when it was time to go to training.

“Yeah.” She smiled back meekly, trying to look as enthusiastic and excited about that prospect as her husband. Having a plan was reassuring for her too, but she was still dreading the finality of it all. She was still dreading moving. She even wished she wasn’t spending the night in Dortmund, because she wanted to go “home” and be in London as much as possible before having to give up London life. After the player left, the rider watched Lukas play on the floor and thought about how the best parts of her life were in her London life. Her spell as a resident there encompassed most of the most important things she’d ever done or experienced. That period was coming to an end and it was hard not to worry that it would always be the best period- that the next one, her new Dortmund life, wouldn’t compare. And that had nothing to do with day-to-day living and everything to do with what would happen throughout her life while living there- her career, Lukas’ upbringing, her marriage. Christina wondered if the highlights during “the Dortmund period” would be as special as the ones from the last 6 years.