#Because going about my daily business as usual would inevitably mean still interacting with you cause you didn't make your identity known

[applejarjar]

If my stuff is that bad that you can't even reblog it, don't bother adding likes to my posts either then. Just leave me alone.

[barsformars]

Back

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g - fluff; non-idol!au

p - vet!jongho × vet!reader

w.c - 1.1k+

t.w - none

c - jongho tries to prove that the cat loves him more than it loves you but him cheating just led to much desired but unexpected situations.

a.n - hello im back to make @closer-stars suffer with another jongho writing! not too sure if you would like the vet au but cats! so kdksksk hope you like it bebs <3

t.l - @closer-stars (ofc) @fromercury @jeongyunhoed @ateezlovenet

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"Siru loves me more and I am going to prove it to you today," Jongho stated confidently but him sneaking her favourite salmon jerky into the front pockets of his white coat says otherwise. You pretend you don't see anything, just giving him a light shrug and a smile that Jongho can only describe as an I-would-love-to-see-you-try-for-the-umpteenth-time smile.

It's always less talk and more action when it comes to Jongho so he doesn't even bother whining about you doubting Siru's love for him. He pushes through the door to the back where Siru is resting along with the other pets in the clinic, the salmon jerky still in his pocket (of course). You quickly follow right after, not wanting to miss even a second of what was about to come. You usually wouldn't ever dream of him doing it but it's inevitable if he really wants to fight for Siru's attention.

"Siru~" Jongho cooes just like every other overly affectionate pet owner in the world. Oh yes, Jongho's pet owner voice has finally made its debut. You won't even tell him how many times you have overheard him practicing it in the exam room when he assumed you were busy attending to other animals in the other exam room. It definitely sounds much more natural now, maybe because he's actually saying it to an actual cat rather than to the canine skeleton model in his exam room.

"Siru, come here." Jongho's so determined he even included a meow between his words. You stifle a laugh as you watch him from behind. Everything you were witnessing now was ridiculous, ridiculously adorable.

The tortoiseshell seemed to have picked up the scent of her favourite treat because you see her sniffing in the direction of Jongho's pocket, her eyes fixed on it rather than Jongho's face. If he was able to get her out of her cage, even by baiting her like this, you would still acknowledge his victory. It would still be an improvement from before when she wouldn't even move a step closer to him. A small win is still a win.

Unfortunately, Jongho completely messes up when he goes on to say: "It's time for your daily check-up, baby." Yeah....using the word "baby" here wasn't going to work if the three prohibited words in the cat's dictionary was also included in the same sentence. With that, Siru folds her ears back down and immediately goes to hide in the corner of her cage.

"Great! Another free cup of coffee for me!" You chirped as you moved forward to give him a pat on his shoulder.

Jongho sighs in defeat, his shoulders slumping over. "Maybe I should have just been an ordinary doctor for humans. I still don't understand how to get the pets to warm up to me."

"Hey, that was a pretty close attempt," you comforted him. "You just need a little more practice, can't really blame you when you spend more time operating on them rather than interacting when they're conscious."

"But-"Jongho straightens his back so fast you almost lose your balance due to the shock-"I know a trick ninety-nine point nine percent of animals can't resist." He shoots you a mischievous glance and a smirk as he pulls out his 'secret' weapon, which did indeed catch Siru's attention.

Siru was already near the entrance of the cage when your competitiveness takes over you. Your first instinct was to create a distance between the two of them, and maybe you could blame it on your frequent fantasies in doing so, but your arms naturally went around his waist as you pulled him away, you now behind him once again.

"You think I didn't notice? You cheater!" You unintentionally gave him a tight squeeze as you tried to snatch the treat out of his hand and Jongho feels like you had just snatched his breath away, literally and figuratively.

"U-uh...that's a tad too tight, my dear." Jongho regrets almost instantly for saying that right now. It was not unusual for him to use it on you but using it in this situation was probably not the best idea; misunderstandings may arise.

If anyone ever asks you for an instance where your competitiveness takes over you, you're going to use this as an example because you didn't even notice the position the both of you were in until Jongho had said that. "Oh shit, sorry." You tried to take a step back and away from your colleague but it seems like the universe has other plans for the both of you because you trip over Jongho's foot in the process.

You would like to thank his quick reflexes in grabbing your arms — that were pretty much still around him — and reeling you back in, otherwise you would have crashed into the cages behind you, giving the other animals an extremely unpleasant wake-up call. But you also hate it, because now the both of you are closer than before, one cheek squished against his back and his hands firmly holding onto yours, the both of you frozen on the spot. How were you supposed to act in a situation like this?

You were the first one to break the awkward but somehow comforting silence, clearing your throat and redirecting the both of you back to the real reason you two were in here for — Siru.

"Oh yeah, Siru..."

"I'll get her," you said, pulling away cautiously this time to avoid the same situation from happening again. Jongho fingers lingers on your arms as you do just in case he needs to catch you again.

"Okay, I'll go get prepared."

"Thanks." Jongho nods in acknowledgement and heads straight towards the door, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. His heart was pumping dangerously fast, it couldn't be healthy to let it continue that way for any longer.

Jongho was just about to close the door behind him, so he could wipe away the cold sweat that was starting to drip down his warm face, when you called out to him. He can barely breathe all because of you.

"We should talk about it after work." You notice the slight confusion in his face, and though you know he's quick-witted enough to figure out what you mean, you don't want to leave any chances of him misunderstanding. "About us, I mean. But also I mean even if you have nothing to say to me, I have lots of things to tell you. So, please?"

"Sure, we can talk about us."

[dailydnp]

British YouTuber, presenter, and author Daniel Howell offers a practical yet poignant look into mental health – his own struggles held up as a mirror for anyone else going through the same – in his book You Will Get Through This Night.

Written in conjunction with psychologist Dr Heather Bolton, the book is an amalgamation of Howell’s own experiences and Dr Bolton’s expert perspective combined to create a reading that feels like a personal attack in the best of ways, forcing you confront, embrace and then overcome your perception of your own mental health.

Best described as, “a practical guide to taking control of your mental health for today, tomorrow, and the days after,”  You Will Get Through This Night takes readers through Howell’s mental health journey, wrapped in his trademark sense of humour and nuggets of wisdom that urge them forwards in their path to a healthier mindset.  

Speaking to 1883, Howell describes what pushed him to write the book, learning to question his normal, how upbringing and culture impacts one’s perception of mental health, the role that a sense of humour plays in getting the conversation around mental health started and more.

Was there a particular moment that solidified your decision to write this book?

I think it was just realizing the power that every single person has to tell their story and break down the wall. Because with mental health, it’s the thing that every single person has a universal experience of. And yet, we all like to go, ‘I’m fine,’ when we’re completely having a meltdown on the inside and it was me opening up, not because I thought it was a nice idea just because I thought I had to open up about what I was going through with my depression, my sexuality. I went through 27 years of terrible mental health, without even realizing that you’re not supposed to be that way. It’s the idea that we all think we are broken, born in a certain way and doomed to feel that way forever, and that’s fundamentally wrong. I thought I’d like to write this book because other people may see themselves in it, notice that they relate to something, and therefore maybe there’s something about themselves that they need to work on. I literally I just wrote the book that I wish I could have read, because for me it was a struggle to even find the resources and the advice I needed.

You’ve mentioned in the book, that you never questioned your symptoms and that you were taken aback when the doctor said you were suffering from depression. But where there moments before that you started questioning this perception of what was normal to you?

I think it became my normal to feel bad all the time, which sounds dramatic but it was me. I thought it was all to do with my choices, age, environment and my job. But mental health is deeper than that, it’s something deeper and it’s something that you can actually have a positive effect on, which is what I wish I knew earlier, and it only happened when I got to a point where I was struggling, so much that I couldn’t even function day-to-day. In my mind, there was either nothing or there’s crazy. I thought you just have to get over your problems or you are totally crazy, which is so ignorant but that’s just not the truth. So, I went to a doctor and he said I think you might have depression and that is a real thing. And there’s lots that you can do about it. It’s about just understanding everything to do with how your thoughts and feelings work, the relationship between your biology and how you interact with the world physically. It was such a slow and painful journey to learn all of that that I thought, I’m just going to put it all in here and the idea is that for someone who picks up this book, they can go right in. I’ll put it up on the shelf and then when I need to read it, I’m going to pick it up and open it  again. So, I just wanted to be super practical.

I really liked this quote in the book “breakdown can be breakthroughs”. So, when was the last time you can think of that a breakdown led to a breakthrough for you?

Every other week, like you know, all of us. It’s just human instinct to try and stick through it and ignore the problems especially with work. It’s a great excuse to lie, “ I know I feel bad but I’m really busy.” And it goes like that until things get way too intense. For me, there were moments where I felt I simply cannot keep going in my career or day-to-day life or try to pretend like I’m funny, until I deal with the fact that I’m gay. And though there was this terrible feeling like “have I hit rock bottom?” But the thing with any obstacle is that it stops you from going in the wrong direction and when you are forced to turn around usually it means you’re confronting the truth for the first time. Usually if someone has a breakdown, if you hit that wall in your life, that point where you absolutely can’t keep going until you turn around and something scary is going to be waiting, it means you’re going in the right direction. When you have these moments of confrontation, instead of procrastinating or running away, if you face it then it’s hopefully better days ahead.

Speaking of procrastination, you talk about burnout and the five-minute rule in one section. How do you strike a balance between not procrastinating and getting things done, but also not overworking yourself?

The human concept of work is very strange and it’s just one of those great examples of something that we’ve all brainwashed ourselves to see a certain way, to put value on certain things that are ultimately probably not great and inevitably lead to another dramatic moment of self-destruction and procrastination, which are both associated with so much guilt and shame.But in reality it’s not because I’m lazy that I don’t want to start this thing, it’s probably I’m terrified of starting this thing because I know that it’s important, I don’t want to fail at it. So, think of the five minute rule as ripping the plaster off, because it’s always the fear of starting. That was me, writing this book and feel like I’m not in the mood to do that, but then moment I start then I’d just write for consecutive hours. Again, it’s just snapping out of the mindset that you’re probably on, which goes I’m doing this because it’s important, and I have to do it. You probably don’t have to do it, you’re probably just running from something else. So, whether you are procrastinating, you think you’re lazy, or  you’re telling yourself that you have to put up all of your issues to deal with whatever you’re busy with, you need to flip it around and look at it, not just from in healthier way but in more honest way. I’m not going to cripple myself with guilt and shame about procrastination but I’m not going to over work myself.

You’ve also written about how one of the worst things you can say to someone going through depression is to get over it. What’s the hardest of trying to get people to understand that it isn’t something you can get over?

I think you cannot underestimate how profoundly ignorant most of the world still is about mental health and that’s not people’s fault. It’s just that science, education and culture has just not been doing the right thing even if science recently has come a long way. We’ve got hundreds of years of stigma that come from. Breaking down the barriers, by being honest, with someone one-to-one is a great way to do that. And it just telling them “I’m not going to pretend that everything’s fine. I just want to tell you that, I feel that way.” And for a lot of people who say they don’t understand depression, anxiety etc, if just say I feel bad and I want to do something about it, people usually empathize with it. I also think lot of people want not take it seriously when other people say that because they feel like where was their help when they needed it? I think that the human nature is usually to feel almost jealous that someone else is asking for help or sympathy and they want to get better but you have to talk back to that voice and say maybe this is an opportunity for me to finally, be honest about how I might have been feeling the whole time. Because at some point you have to break the cycle.

Though you’ve said how you can’t underestimate how ignorant people can be, there’s a section of the book where you talk about how you uploaded your video, “Basically, I’m gay,” and braced for negativity. But that you were surprised by all the positive responses. So, what’s the most recent instance you can think of where you were pleasantly surprised by humanity?

Something that anyone that has to admit something, they’re going through and has in common, whether that’s something that’s come out as gay or someone just admitting that they’re just really stressed or feeling very anxious, is feeling like they have to constantly explain themselves. This is just an example of how you can be afraid of what people will say but when you’re really just honest about something that you’re going through, people usually relate to it on a day-to-day level. Whenever I talk to someone about mental health or sexuality, who may think its weird at first but as I describe my thoughts and feelings, they may relate to it even if they aren’t going through exact same thing as you. For me, a year after coming out and I still have that conversation on a daily basis. As a teenager, I had that deathly fear, that I couldn’t tell anyone because it would be terrible, but now I realize that actually most people are just scared. They aren’t inherently hateful; they’re just putting up that wall because they think that being vulnerable leaves them for attack. But actually, if we’re all vulnerable we’d be a lot happier.

Speaking of vulnerability, you touch upon your upbringing in the book and how it sort of taught you to keep a stiff upper lip. When did you start learn to be vulnerable and what was the biggest challenge with that?

Being a young British man, going to an all-boys school or the comedians that I looked up to on TV – everyone was so cynical. It was about trying to be as like edgy as possible and like act tough, and not show this vulnerability in case it’s seen as weakness. I think that I carried this perception all the way into my mid-20s, it seeped into every part of my personality. A lot of the stuff that I made, when I was younger, had this cynical edge to it and it was only when I started to get more followers from around the world that I began people started questioning that cynicism. At first, I’d go “this is British humour,” but a few years later, I just started to reflect about the way I was about myself and realized it was a bit more than a joke have, I actually started to let this self-hatred and the lack of empathy towards how I feel sort of eat me up. I think because only because of the people who have followed me over the years, giving me a reflection of who I am through how they’ve perceived me that I’ve been able to break free of my default programming.

About your sense of humour and how you kind of make sense of how you’re feeling through jokes, have you ever felt misunderstood -particularly given the cultural differences of your audiences  you just mentioned – like you’re trying to make light of something that a lot of people suffer from?

Yeah, there’s  a weird line and there’s lots of conversations these days about what you’re allowed to joke about. What the difference between talking about something, being comfortable with it and almost glamorizing it. But I think if the biggest problem with mental health globally is people don’t even want to admit that they’re wrong. And that they don’t even know that they were wrong. A bunch of people joking about how depressed they feel could be a  good thing because they have at least taken the first step. So, I think it’s good that people can joke about things in a way that breaks the ice as long as they all know, in the same way that my book might make them feel very personally attacked that just behind that joke that you put up to protect yourself, there is something that you should work on. Even if it’s painful, that it will make you happier.

You mention celebrating small wins in the book. What win are you celebrating today?

I have just moved house and I have a toilet that doesn’t flush yet. But I managed to stick a coat hanger, inside the toilet and to make it flush. I just got my own toilet to flush, and for me, that’s such a miracle. It was a perfect example of how we take so many things for granted in life, whether it’s something huge to do with your health, the state of the world, your privilege. But I now have a flushing toilet and everything else felt easy. I can handle it because I got some perspective.

You also touch on the importance of inner circles in the book. , When was the last time, you personally reached out to bring someone into your inner circle and do you remember how you did it?

I am so awkward and awful at making friends and it’s something that usually, I’ll have one of those breakdowns where I go, “I have no friends.” The next day, I’ll wake up and DM people, out of every three people I DM two-point-nine will just ignore me and I will be very embarrassed. But then one of them will  say “ yes, in two and a half weeks, we will go get a pizza.” And you only have to succeed a couple times ever to make friends that you hopefully will see more than once. I know from experience, it can be embarrassing, painful and not fun to try and reach out to new people but you just start adding one person, every two years until you have a friend group.

While working on this book, I know you consulted with a psychologist for it, aside from your lived experiences. What did you learn about mental health while looking at it from an outside, expert perspective?

I think one of the biggest revelations for me while writing this book is realizing how much of it isn’t a logical thought in our head. So much of mental health is controlled by our body, and the physical things that we experience. It’s about just how we breathe, how much light, and fresh air. And the problem is in our modern world, our brains are looking at everything as a threat. As soon as you realize actually, humans are not as complicated and mysterious as we think, we’re just little animals trying not to get murdered. It was freeing to know because that meant we aren’t born with this magically broken consciousness, that’s just doomed. It definitely made me look at mental health for what it is rather than the mysterious fog of pain that I thought it was for the last 10 years that I had absolutely no control over.

You’ve said that you’re obviously not done with your mental health journey, but where are you on that journey at this moment in time?

I’m doing a lot better than I was simply because I can understand what I feel, and why, and that it’s normal now. And I honestly feel like that’s 90% of it. Most people don’t ever question their lives. If they spend too much time, feeling overwhelming you stressed or if they worry too much and they’re just not enjoying life day-to-day. But just knowing that there’s something you can do about, it gives me enough hope. From writing the book, I know everything I can do to get better.

Finally, what’s one question no one has asked you so far that you wish you were asked?

I think it’s just how do I convince the other people in my life to take mental health seriously?  I realized from writing this book and now, talking about it that the biggest problem I have is that most people simply do not think the conversation about mental health, or mental health,  applies to them because they’re fine. So many people think mental health is only something for people that have crippling depression or serious anxiety disorder, but it’s just how all of us, think and feel all the time. If you have bad self-esteem, if you worry about everything, if you have a way of looking at the world that’s really negative and you expect the worst, then  you might not need to immediately have an intervention with a psychotherapist, but you need to understand your mental health. Even if you read this book and say you are totally fine, then you still need to know this stuff so you can understand why you are fine. There will be a point in life where you need to make yourself feel better and mental health isn’t about waiting until you snap, and then picking up the pieces and going on medication. It should be about knowing how to keep yourself healthy and happy so that you don’t have a breakdown. Everyone has mental health, and that’s the thing that I wish I could just shove into everyone’s faces.

[demibats]

make a mess. [bucky barnes]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Run-through: The love and heartbreak of knowing the Winter Soldier

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: ANGST ANGST ANGST, smut

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, was the love of your life. Over the span of the three years you were together, you came to realize that. You would’ve killed or died for him and he would’ve done the same. The magnetic attraction was evident from the moment you met him. Those memories still were as clear as the day it happened. 

“This is James,” Steve had said, introducing you to the metal-armed man, “This is Y/N.” Your eyes met and it was like you saw the future you wanted with him so badly in that millisecond.

He playfully punched Steve’s arm with the metal fist before outstretching his flesh hand to shake yours. Once he had your hand in his, he surprised you by bringing your knuckles up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said to him, blushing like mad.

He looked up at you, “The pleasure is all mine.”

The pain was still there and all too real. The heavy rocks that existed in your chest never left and you knew they’d stay there. You put on a mask, of course, to hide your pain from the heroes around you. Almost all of them saw through it, but they wouldn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting you or making things more awkward than they already were.

You assisted the Avengers in a way that went overlooked to most. You were a behind-the-scenes agent, compiling data, updating mission reports and doing much research on enemy targets or missions. You worked closely with Maria Hill, but rarely fired your gun. It was necessary to carry it and know how to operate it, but you weren’t in the line of fire often. At least, not anymore.

You kept things business as usual until you were secluded to the confines of your room. You could finally take off the mask you’d forced yourself to always wear in public. It hurt seeing Bucky every single day, having to interact with him, having to act like nothing happened between the two of you. You thought that as the days went on, it would hurt less, but it only seemed to bring more pain into your life. 

“You have a lot of freckles on your back.” He mumbled into the back of your head, his metal arm cradling you protectively, his body pressed against yours.

You turned your head back slightly, trying to look at him with a sarcastic expression, “Well quit looking at them.” You snapped, your cheeks heating up as he pointed this out to you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how shy his observation made you, “No way, doll, I’m gonna count all of them.”

As he slinked down your back, counting the freckles, he placed gentle kisses on your skin. Eventually he was down between your legs, having given up on counting the freckles. Instead, he caressed your hips, face buried in between your thighs, flicking his tongue against your clit rapidly. You arched your back against his face, tugging on his mocha-colored locks, signaling to him that he was doing a good job, to say the least. 

The memories you had couldn’t just disappear. You thought about them daily, hourly. You wished you could have that back again, to have him back in your arms, back in your life in the way he was. It just wouldn’t happen and both of you knew it. You knew that no matter the years that you spent together, the connection you had, the memories that plagued both of your thoughts, that that life you had built no longer existed. It only existed in memories. 

You kept yourself busy almost every day, working when you were scheduled not to, working during your breaks. It kept your mind off of the inevitable thoughts that would come once you were alone. Some days you were angry for constantly throwing yourself a pity party, some you were numb to all feelings and some you were so hellbent on keeping yourself busy that you managed a subtle smile every once in a while. It hurt like a bitch thinking that Bucky was actually fine. That was another thought that kept you up at night. How he might be sleeping just fine while you toss and turn without the heavy dip in your beside you, created by his weight. 

“You act like I can’t take care of myself, James.” You rarely ever used his first name, but during arguments, it tended to pop up more often than not. 

Bucky stood a few feet away from you, trying to fit words together without letting his anger take over, “I have every goddamn right to worry. This is a field mission, Y/N. Of course it’s gonna make me feel uneasy.”

“I know what I’m doing! I compiled the report for this, I did the research. Quit treating me like a child.”

You couldn’t see past the worry as him almost parenting you on what you could and couldn’t do. You weren’t seeing the worried boyfriend, you were seeing a bossy, arrogant man that didn’t even exist. 

“Something could happen. Something could go wrong that none of us could expect, and you could be put at bigger risk than you already are.”

You scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean, James?”

You knew what it meant. It meant that because you weren’t genetically modified, that you weren’t some super soldier, or an enhanced individual, that you would only be a distraction to others around you.

He stuttered, trying to think o f the right words to use, but he couldn't. 

“Yeah, okay. Get the hell out of my room, James.”

No amount of self-care nights, favorite food binges or Netflix shows could fill the gaping hole in your chest. Heartbreak is no joke and you knew that. You had just never experienced it to this extent. You imagined that Bucky hadn’t either, considering his lengthy past. That thought was the only thing that kept you from sobbing into your pillow. That maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the heartbreak as well.

You thought about the reason why you and Bucky broke up often. Trying to figure out a way that maybe the two of you could still stay together. It seemed unlikely and Bucky was stubborn, he wouldn’t just give in… not even for you. You stayed up late into the night, thinking of him. How maybe some night he might sneak into your room and want you again. Some nights, you would get up and walk toward his room, but you never made it all the way there. It would be too embarrassing if he turned you away. 

“Buck, will you hand me that med-kit behind you?” Steve kept his voice calm, staring down at you as you faded in and out of consciousness. 

You tried to tell the team that you were fine, that it was just a scratch. It was actually a bullet wound that was bleeding steadily. Bucky didn’t listen to Steve, but instead continued to stare off into space, completely zoned out. Steve got up to retrieve the kit himself, purposefully nudging Bucky to try to get him to snap out of it. Steve patched you up as best as he could, then when he tried to tend to your other smaller wounds, you gestured him away. You closed your eyes, lip busted, broken cheek bone and the top to your uniform ripped away, a large bandage tightly tied around your hips to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound. 

Eventually, you passed out from blood loss and woke up in the Hospital Wing of the compound, wearing a sports bra and loose sweats. Your head ached but that was nothing compared to the feeling of guilt. Bucky knew this would happen and you fought him tooth and nail to be on that mission, to prove to him that you can handle yourself. You knew that you’d never hear the end of it.

And then you did. You heard the end of it two days later when he broke things off, explaining that you’d be safer. His voice was deadpan, avoiding eye contact the entire time. He offered no room for discussion, he only said that you’d be safer and he apologized for allowing your relationship to go on for so long that you got hurt. You were more than physically hurt after he broke up with you. You stood where he left you, angry, wanting to storm after him and yell and cry and work things out, but knew that that would get you nowhere. He made up his mind.

You’d always pictured how things could’ve worked out had you two still been together. You thought about all the dates you hadn’t gone on, about him proposing and having the perfect wedding. Maybe you’d even have kids, he’d talked about wanting a baby before briefly. You pictured them with his eyes, knowing they’d mean more than the world to both of you. These thoughts of yours weren’t helping. Sometimes they’d make you feel good for a moment, stuck in your head, daydreaming. Then you’d be snapped out of it and have to face the realization that that wasn’t in your cards anymore.

You were simply left to put yourself back together and you’d do exactly that. It’d hurt like hell at first but you WOULD be able to do it. He’d made the mess, but you’d make sure no one else would notice it.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s R&S - Paradise on Earth (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (“世间桃源”) will not be released in EN or any server as it’s one of the cancelled R&S which came with the Dream Heart Lake gacha event!🍒

This is a full translation, so it’s highly recommended that you follow along with the narrator (i.e. our beloved Mr Mills) :> 

Summary: This is Victor’s paradise on earth. It has delicacies, good wine, and stories. 

Cancelled Victor R&S:

> flashback 

> six out of seventeen 

> so-called disparity

[ Chapter 1 ]

People of my generation believe in fate.

Whether I was led into the restaurant by the fragrance of wine while passing by along the street, or meeting the manager of Souvenir and becoming a part of it - these were likely destined to happen. 

After retiring, I would frequently carry a set of keys with me and head out for a stroll. Sometimes, I’d look at what’s new in the shopping mall, and sometimes I’d do so purely because the weather was good - perhaps I was someone who just couldn’t remain idle. 

It was also because of this reason that I walked into Souvenir that day. At first, I was enticed by the fragrance of wine; afterwards, it was because of my surprise towards the manager’s capriciousness.

Finally, it was because of the culmination of years of experience that I could remain here.

At this age, I never expected to meet a friend with such an interesting personality that gelled with mine despite our age differences. 

I still remember when I walked in back then, following the fragrance of wine. I had even questioned if the restaurant was open to begin with. The entire restaurant was empty, and a man stood in the half-exposed kitchen, buried in work, looking as though he had just got a footing in life. Apart from the sound of wine being poured, the only things that could be heard in the empty area were my own footsteps. There were even echoes resounding because of the space.

Usually, I would turn around and leave if the staff didn’t attend to me, preventing me from embarrassing myself. However, on that day, such a thought didn’t cross my mind: Since I had already followed the scent of wine, I wouldn’t be satisfied until I enquired about it.

Hence, even to this day, I can still remember the first words I said to the manager.

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

Back then, I asked him this:

“Mister, how much is the wine?”

His answer naturally left a deep impression on me:

“An exorbitant price.”

He didn’t even lift his head when he said this, and his act of sealing the bottle didn't cease. If it were somebody else, they could have gotten angry in response to his arrogant attitude - it’s human nature.

However, I found this young man very interesting. If I were to put it in the popular lingo, I’d say that I saw the aura of an “artisan” in him. As such, I smiled and continued with another question: 

“In that case, what is the asking price for this exorbitance?”

Hearing this, the man finally lifted up his head from his work. 

He looked even younger than I imagined. His features were defined and regular. His expressionless face looked majestic and proud.

As compared to a restaurant, he’s more suited for politics or in the business world - Such an impression was evoked the moment one laid eyes on him, especially since he was wearing a well-fitted suit underneath his apron that day.

“That will depend...” after a short pause, the young manager changed his term of address, “it will depend on your worth.”

[Note] This part doesn’t translate well to English, but Victor basically  starts off by addressing Mr Mills as “你” (which is used when talking to peers/someone younger), then changes it to “您” (used when talking to an elder/someone you respected). Both mean “you”, but they are of different formality :>

Even though he used a more respectful term of address, his face still lacked the signature smile frequently seen on service staff. The contrast of the young man piqued my interest, and a certain gut feeling surfaced - getting to know him wouldn’t be a bad thing.

And because of this gut feeling, I made a decision I never, ever regretted. 

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

After working here for half a year, I still couldn’t make sense of the way this business was run. The opening hours depended on the boss’ mood. The “daily menu” depended on the ingredients that day, and the contents on the bill were plucked from the air.

When customers walk in, there was a 50% chance that they would get chased out, a 30% chance that the bill would leave them unpleased, and out of the remaining 20%, only 10% would become returning guests - and this percentage wasn’t guaranteed either.  

I was uncertain if it was a coincidence or an inevitability, but out of the recurring customers, most of them were celebrities from various industries. Some looked familiar, especially that well-received celebrity who appeared frequently on television. Some of them I didn’t recognise.

What differed from my imagination was that the manager didn’t concern himself with celebrities like in other businesses. In contrast, he disliked those who came simply because they were celebrities... hmm, how should I put it? Those kinds of people who came here to take pictures more than to partake in delicacies. Because of this, he specially imposed a “no photography equipment allowed” rule. 

I talked to the boss about this before. 

“The ladies just wanted to record beautiful things in life - it shouldn’t count as breaking the rules, right?”

At that time, this was what the manager said while he was busy in the kitchen:

“They can go elsewhere to record the ‘beautiful things in life’. Souvenir doesn’t need their meagre contributions.”

When he spoke, the manager didn’t have a look of unhappiness or disdain. What I heard was him purely stating a truth, but I knew that in his heart, he didn’t like those customers. If such customers came to the door, he would rather close his restaurant. 

“But, Manager, you also take pictures sometimes.”

Exactly because I had a sufficient understanding of the manager, I knew clearly that he wouldn’t lose his temper. This was why I’d take a risk sometimes - either challenging his authority as the manager, or deliberately putting him on the spot in the capacity of an elder. I just couldn’t help wanting to know what went through the mind of this young man, who was riddled with contradictions.

For someone my age, it was largely me being overly curious.

“...I take photos for the purposes of creating new dishes and adjusting the taste. As customers, all they need to do is eat.” The manager had always been taciturn, but his mind moved incredibly quickly. This is one point of him that I admired a lot. 

Our interactions were mostly intended for exploring different approaches, so there were always circumstances where we would dispute or disagree.

“Honestly speaking, I also think the dishes are presented very well, so I can understand their feelings.” Most of the dishes in Souvenir have a certain optimal period when they are best tasting - that’s what the manager was most upset about. “If they eat immediately after taking photos, it shouldn't affect the tasting experience, right?”

“Real customers... cough.” As though he thought about something funny, the manager released a dry cough to conceal his sudden laughter. “Will feel regret after finishing their food, because they realise that they haven’t taken a picture. I hope Souvenir can leave behind such happy regret.”

Now that I think about it, it’s probably because we always uphold the same standard for delicacies, that the manager employed me.

After all, whether before or after I came, I never saw hiring notices pasted in the restaurant.

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

After working here for two years, I still couldn’t make sense of the way this business was run. However, the good thing was that I had become completely used to it.

Whether it was the way the manager and I interacted, or the circumstances of work - even though I was a service staff, the scope of my work was mostly that of an assistant. After all, the restaurant had very little business.

It was probably because the boss did whatever he wanted. No matter how good his cooking was, the business of the restaurant remained subpar, and it was a good thing he wasn’t concerned about the accounts. Whenever I gave him quarterly reports of the deficit accounts, he always looked well aware of the situation. 

He would occasionally nod his head as a sign of acknowledgement. Sometimes, he would divert the topic to a new dish, and he would sometimes talk about an even more complex issue. For example, the definition of “winning and losing”, and what it meant to have an objective.

Whenever we talk about these matters, he would never put himself on a pedestal as a manager. No, it’s more like, when there are no customers around, he is never like a boss - or a big chef who is passionate about delicacies, or a modest member from the younger generation.

“This is what I think about the matter. I would like to hear your opinion.” When he said this, he furrowed his brows slightly out of habit, his gaze sincere and persistent. 

I understand that one’s opinions tend to be one-sided and flawed, but I was still happy to have a member of the younger generation listen to what I had to say.

If I didn’t happen to hear the manager picking up a work-related call, I would have almost ignored his “other side” completely.

In those two years, I had only witnessed him answering a call in Souvenir once. Before, he would always set his phone on airplane mode at the door of the restaurant. But that time, it was probably a work call he had no choice but to answer.

Although I just happened to hear the contents of his conversation, the spacious and empty room had the tendency to amplify the volume of a person’s voice. Moreover, from his tone, this call probably didn't bring with it good news. 

I turned up the faucet, hoping the sound of running water would drown out the conversation floating from the neighbouring room. 

The voice sounded stern and cold, and in keeping with the first impression he gives others. But...

It wasn’t the young man I was familiar with. 

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

The manager I was used to was someone who would hum while peeling off the shells of prawns, would be in daze as he stared at the dessert in the oven as it gradually took shape, and would open a bottle of fine wine when there’s no business in the restaurant to attend to, and share a meal while chatting with me. 

However...

Just as the manager had never asked about my family, I was not overly curious about his “other side” or even more sides of him, unless he brought it up himself. It was comparable to how took over the task of washing the dishes from me after taking the call. 

“Mr Mills... sorry, I brought my work matters into the restaurant.”

In response to his sudden apology, I couldn’t react at all--

It wasn’t because of the age difference. The manager had never made such a guarantee to me, nor was there any contract or agreement written in black and white that there was such a rule. 

Although he said that he didn’t care about the restaurant’s performance, I could vaguely hazard a guess. But that was the first time I realised: This young man... perhaps he’s giving himself too much stress. 

“Manager, you were suddenly so stern... I even thought I was going to get fired.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood, reconcile my own emotions, and cushion the following words. 

“If I get fired at this age, when the time comes and I meet my wife, she’d definitely laugh at me.”

That was the first time I brought up my own family. On that day, I saw the rare emotion called “curiosity” in the manager’s eyes. That night after work, the manager gave me a bottle of wine, and it had a packaging that I recognised.

“Does this mean... I have to sign on for another three years?” I cracked a joke, asking the manager how much this bottle of wine was “worth”.

But this young man, thirty years younger than I, had no intention of making a joke. He shook his head and told me seriously:

“Good wine accompanies good dishes. Even when alone, you have to live well.”

He said that this was not remuneration, but a suggestion.

This bottle of wine could be considered a quarterly award.

-

As of today, the three year contract has been fulfilled.

The last time I used that bottle of wine to ask a question, it wasn’t simply a joke.

As long as my body allows for it, I hope to welcome the next three years, and the three years after that...

Just like the name of the restaurant, every moment here is a souvenir worth cherishing.

Paradise on earth is not much.

To me, it’s like that.

-

-

Other cancelled R&S: here

Lucien’s cancelled R&S (by other user): here

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 6

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 6: Tommy defends Leah. Polly (drunkenly) defends women all around the world 

(gif isn’t mine)

           Beth handed Leah a porcelain teacup with gold accents around the rim. Steam rose from the chamomile tea, the scent relaxing just enough for Leah to take a deep breath.

           “Thank you.” She whispered and wrapped her hands around the warm cup.

           Beth sat down across from her. “Can you tell me what’s going on or…” She had been born and raised in Birmingham. As a young girl, she had been warned about the Shelby boys. Especially when they came back from the war and began to gain power.

           “If I knew I would tell you.” She pursed her lips together and held the tea close to her chest. Leah wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Beth about what she used to do in London. But past history aside, she didn’t know what she could tell her about Tommy. What could she say if she didn’t even know what was going on? Was she involved with him or was it just a fling? Despite the anxiety of Rosetta’s men at her apartment, Lizzie’s words still echoed in her brain. A man like Tommy wasn’t someone who enjoyed settling down into a subdued lifestyle. He made the choice to continue this dangerous streak of his. There was something about it that he enjoyed or the reward was worth the consequences. Or perhaps he was simply too far gone to get his head out from under the water.

           Leah had no inkling and she had a feeling she might never understand. So did she just leave it? Pretend she didn’t have feelings for the man who practically rescued her from her own despair? He put an end to her self-destructive tendencies and told her she was deserving of much more. Could she really shake the memories of how softly he touched her?

           “I can’t tell you what to do,” Beth said steadily. “But I can warn you that if you do interact with him…you’ll most likely pay a price. I mean Grace…”

           “I know about Grace.” She interrupted her. Leah didn’t want to hear about Grace. She didn’t want to hear people blame Tommy for her death. Maybe it could be argued that she died because of him, but Leah knew that he never intended that to happen. “He’s not callous.”

           “He’s a murderer.” Beth retorted. She leaned forward and touched Leah’s knee. “It’s a cycle, Lee, and I think he knows he’ll end up dead one of these days because of it. But until then, I don’t want you to be a victim of the Peaky Blinders.” She thought about all the young men in Birmingham who either crossed the gangsters’ paths and paid the price, or the ones who decided it was better to join them and got caught in the cross-fires.

           Leah set her tea cup down and nodded slowly. “I understand your concern. You’re not the first one to warn me.” She informed her friend. “And I doubt you’ll be the last. But Beth, I don’t know what to tell you. My life, for the last few years, has been nothing but hell. After I lost Jonah I thought I’d never recover. But since I’ve met him…” Her eyes lowered. The things she accomplished in Birmingham listed off in her mind. She knew that night; she would be warm in a comfortable bed in her very own flat. She wouldn’t have to entertain a stranger, sell her body to make ends meet. There would be no marks on her skin the next morning from clients who abused their power over her. She wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of her dignity every time she walked home from the hotel, the dawn rising behind her. Her self-esteem was building when before, it had only be crushed every single time she forced herself to act the part of an expensive whore. She remembered how Tommy held her close at that crucial turning point in London. When he promised to take her away from that cycle of misery, promised her everything and more. Promised to take care of her like he had told Jonah he would.

           “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Beth’s voice was gentle with sympathy. She could only warn the woman of the potential, or in her eyes, inevitable dangers. Whatever Tommy had done had obviously affected her to the point she wouldn’t change her mind.

           Leah swallowed her tears and nodded. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~`

           “You lads looking for someone?” Tommy introduced his presence on the street. A few smart passersby turned around to avoid the scene altogether. It was never a good sign when all three Shelby men were striding down the street like soldiers entering a battle. With John and Arthur flanking him, Tommy looked positively menacing.

           The three men turned to address him. “Waiting for a mate, ain’t none of your fucking business.” Andrew spat a bit of tobacco onto the sidewalk.

           John smiled smugly and cracked his knuckles. He liked when people underestimated his brother. It was entertaining and usually meant they would be dealing out some punishments. No one spoke to Thomas Shelby like that in the streets of Birmingham.

           Andrew’s cohorts looked uneasy. “That’s Tommy Shelby, let’s just go.” The youngest one decided it was too much to risk over a girl who defected from Rosetta’s harem of Midland girls.

           But Andrew didn’t see the danger in front of him. “I ain’t afraid of some gypsies.” He scoffed.

           Tommy slipped off his cap. He gripped it tightly in his hand and waited for a beat. Rosetta’s enforcer was a good bit taller than Tommy but that didn’t deter him. The bigger they were, the harder they fell.

           And he did fall. A mangled scream left his mouth only moments after taunting the Blinder. His hands clutched over his last good eye, which had been slashed. Those who were willing to challenge the Shelbys in their own domain would receive their signature attack.

           Blood seeped through Andrew’s fingers and dripped down his arm. He fell to his knees first before Tommy delivered a jaw-breaking punch and sent him to the ground.

           Tommy’s ears rang with the familiar static noise that filled his brain when he flipped a switch. That switch that allowed him to crush a man’s very soul while looking him dead in the eyes. It was such an intense state of adrenaline that he couldn’t register the world around him. The numbness he felt on the daily was enhanced, allowing him to detach from the ruthless force he was inflicting. Every sensation was dulled. He didn’t notice his brothers subduing the other two men. He didn’t feel his teeth accidentally bite down on his own lip during the struggle. He couldn’t feel Andrew’s warm blood coating his hands as he grabbed the man’s collar.

           The man was still shrieking in pain and fear while the last bit of vision he had left was slipping away.

           Tommy pressed down on his throat to shut him up and keep him still. He leaned close, not disturbed by the blood. “You go back to Rosetta,” He breathed heavily from the anger that was fueling his strength. His voice was just barely above a deep, hissing whisper. “You tell her that if she even tries to harm Leah, she’ll have the Peaky Blinders to deal with.” He released his hold and stood up. Arthur had one of the men in a headlock while John had the other man on the ground, a foot pressing against his chest.

           “Get him out of here.” He instructed Andrew’s colleagues. “If you come back here you’ll end up in the morgue.” He threatened and nodded for his brothers to release the men. He turned and dug in his pockets for a cigarette. The blood coating his hands stained his coat but he didn’t notice. He hardly even noticed his lip was opened up during the fight as it stained the cigarette red when he took the first drag. It would take a bit before the ringing in his ears died down.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Beth was standing by the windows, anxiously watching the street. She wasn’t keen on having the Peaky Blinders around her home and shop but she didn’t want to kick out Leah either.

           Not too long after Leah’s call, Beth spotted Tommy walking towards the storefront. His brothers had gone back to the betting shop so he was alone.

           “Leah…” She turned to the woman who hadn’t moved from the couch the entire time.

           Without a word, Leah stood and went downstairs. Beth didn’t follow but stayed by the window to keep an eye on them.

           Tommy tossed his cigarette to the ground when Leah came out. Concern etched her brow. “You’re hurt.” She whispered.

           He only shook his head. “No, isn’t my blood.” He assumed she was talking about his shirt, which had been spotted red.

           Leah, in fact, was trying to ignore that fact. She didn’t want to know what Tommy had done but she hoped he had gotten the men to leave her alone. “No, your lip.” She approached him and pulled out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. “You’re bleeding.”

           He touched his chin where a trail of blood had trickled from his lip. “Oh…”

           “It’s not too bad.” She carefully dabbed at the blood and cut.

           His blue eyes were fixed on hers, the aftermath of the fight was starting to die down. The numbness subsided and he could finally feel her gentle touch. Maybe that was the only thing he would ever feel again. When she moved her hand back, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He didn’t want her to let go.

           So she didn’t. She used her free hand to touch his cheek and pocketed the stained handkerchief. The pads of her fingertips subtly rubbed over his cheekbone. He leaned into her touch, grateful for its sobering effect.

           “The woman in your house this morning…”

           Tommy sighed because he knew exactly what was coming. His assistant had gotten to her first, which was probably why she had left before seeing him that morning. “Lizzie.” He nodded. “What did she say to you?”          

           “She warned me about you.” She answered honestly. “She said you’d get tired of me eventually. Told me not to waste my time because I would only end up hurt.”

           His eyes studied her face. She didn’t seem uneasy if anything she was longing for honesty. “Are you worried?”

           She nodded slowly and moved her fingers to graze down his jawline. “For you? Yeah.” Her voice was quiet through her admission. “Maybe I’m naïve for thinking you felt the same way as I did.”

           He shook his head and let his fingers loosen around her wrist, letting her go. She didn’t move her hand even when he released her. “You’re not.”

           “How do you know for sure?”

           “Because through everything I’ve been through, I feel much better with you.” He explained genuinely.

           Leah bit her lip. “I want to know what kind of man you really are. I don’t want to keep hearing about what other people think of you. You tell me who you really are and I’ll do the same. I just need to know that I can trust you.” Because she had lost the last man she truly trusted. And she wasn’t foolish enough to blindly trust the next person who came along.

           “I can prove that to you,” Tommy said with confidence. He knew there wouldn’t be anything he could do to harm her. Not when she knew exactly what he felt like. She knew what it felt to be numb. Neither of them wanted that anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           When Tommy entered the dress shop, Beth was with a client. The woman was the wife of one of his men. He tipped his hat to her before slipping it off.

           “Afternoon, Mr. Shelby.” She greeted politely.

           Beth wasn’t as welcoming. She was still highly suspicious of the Shelby. In her opinion, he had no right to her delicate friend. She didn’t know just how much Leah had fared. “She’s in the back.” Despite her doubts, she couldn’t tell him to piss off.

           Tommy nodded and walked to the back storage room. It was a narrow hall stacked almost to the ceiling with fabric bolts and broken sewing machines. The man was so stealthy in his movements that he startled Leah.

           “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Gave me a fright.”

           He smiled and he held his hands up in apology. “Thought you heard me.”

           She liked seeing him smile. Especially because he smiled when she turned around and his eyes settled on her face. At that moment he wasn’t the terrifying gangster that everyone else saw. He was just a man who was happy to see someone he was developing feelings for. These feelings were blossoming very slowly and tentatively. He was afraid of them for more than one reason, too many to count in fact, but he didn’t often shy away from things that scared him.

           “While you’re here, can you hold this steady for me?” She dragged a rickety chair towards him.

           “Sure.” He set his cap and newspaper aside to hold the back of the chair. Leah picked up her long skirt and stepped up onto the chair to reach a bolt of red satin. The aging wood creaked and he was concerned over a very loose looking leg. But it held up just fine and she stepped down without incident.

           Her hair swept past him and he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was so alluring he lost his train of thought and the reason he was there.

           “Up to no good today?” Her teasing reminded him he did have a purpose for being there. He wasn’t just there to see her, although that wasn’t a bad excuse either.

           “I wouldn’t bring trouble to you.” He replied with deep fondness etched into his usually intense tone. “I’ve come to tell you I’ll be off to Warwickshire tomorrow. Be gone for the next few days.”

           Leah tucked the bolt of fabric underneath her arm. “Little holiday?”

           “You could say that.” He shrugged and leaned his shoulder against a nearby shelf. “Going hunting with me brothers.” He didn’t tell her about the letter he received from America about his father. His brothers didn’t even know yet so he didn’t think it was right to tell her before he told them.

           “That should be fun.” It was nice to know he’d be away from business for a few days. Especially doing something that he enjoyed.

           “You could come along.” He offered. “Get out of Birmingham for a bit. You’d get to meet Charlie.”

           She sighed softly. “That does sound lovely, but I have to work.”

           “Soon though.” He stepped closer to her. The space getting smaller in the cramped room. “You’ll be safe with me gone?” He asked and brushed a few stray wisps of hair from her face.

           “I’ll be alright.” While Tommy was thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong, Leah was only thinking about how she would miss him.

           “I’ll leave the number to Arrow House.” He let his hand cup her cheek. His eyes were soft on her. “Call if you need anything.”

           “What if I just want to hear your voice?” A playful smile formed on her lips.

           “Then you know who to ask for.” He replied with a chuckle.

           “I’ll miss you.” The words surprised her even as they left her own mouth. But she let them remain between them without correcting herself.

           “Only be a couple of days, maybe less. Be back before you know it, eh?” He tilted his head down slightly to be at her eye line.

           Leah hadn’t realized how much she missed the way he looked at her. The way the ice in his iris melted significantly. “When you come back, can we spend time together?”

           “You want to?” Tommy had a lot on his mind. Things with the Russians were getting more intense. He intended on creating a plan that afternoon and setting it into motion as soon as he was able to.

           Her nod was a little timid. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” She admitted. “Beth thinks I’ve got my head in the clouds.”

           “That such a bad thing?” The corner of his lips quirked up. At least he wasn’t the only one who was getting distracted by the relationship.

           “S’pose not. Unless I’m being led along like a fool.”

           Tommy shook his head and tilted his head to kiss her. He figured the gesture was better. He could talk his way out of any situation but he had trouble with deciding exactly what to say to Leah. It was much easier to show her physically than to have to trip over words like a schoolboy.

           Leah kissed him back, focused on how gentle he was. One hand lightly touched her waist, his other hand combed through her hair, his long fingers slipping through her curls.

           He was about to take the fabric from her hand and deepen the kiss but they were interrupted.

           “Leah, did you find that red satin?” Beth called from the front of the store. “Want me to help you find it?”

           Leah pulled back from Tommy. “Yeah, I found it!” She replied and gave him an apologetic look. “Have fun on your holiday, yeah? Try to relax.”

           There was no promising that he could ever relax. That was something he was notably terrible at. “Give me a ring when you can.” He slipped on his cap again and reached into the inside of his coat to pull out his cigarette case.

           “Okay.” She pecked his cheek and slipped by him.

           Tommy’s hand slipped past the telegram about his father’s death. He sighed and went out the back exit of the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Later that same day, there hadn’t been much activity in the store. Beth and Leah chatted idly but the conversation of Tommy never came up. In fact they both avoided it as well as they could.

           The door finally opened and Georgia, a woman who worked as a typist a few shops down, entered. “What're you still doing here? Didn’t you two hear?”

           “Hear 'bout what?” Beth looked up from her ledger at the counter.

           “Jessie Eden’s having a rally. All the women at the wire cutting factory’ve walked out.”

           “Really?” Leah raised an eyebrow. She was well aware of the women’s rights activists who often held rallies for better working conditions. They were active in London and sometimes Leah would linger in the back of the affairs just to listen in. But there was no chance she could ever participate. The Midland girls, or the ones at the brothel, could never demand better conditions. Either Rosetta would put them out on the street or have her henchmen bully them into submission. But it was lovely to think about getting respect as a human being.

           “All the women in Birmingham are going down to the Bull Ring,” Georgia said. "Going to make a statement about the equal rights we fucking deserve."

           Beth looked unsure. “S’just us two, we don’t have any men to complain about.” She and Leah chuckled.

           “Then come and show support for your fellow woman,” Georgia replied with a hand on her hip. “Not all of us can be as lucky as you lot.”

           “If all the women are there then they won’t be coming to get dresses.” Leah pointed out.

           Beth smiled. “That’s a good point. Alright, let’s go support our fellow woman.”

~~~~~~~~~

           Indeed, it seemed every woman in Birmingham had shown up to the rally. Already, there was a buzz of activity. At the center of the crowd, an older woman was standing on the back of a truck, shouting to the women.

           “Oh dear.” Beth sighed. “That’s Tommy Shelby’s aunt.” She pointed to the woman.

           “Up there?” Leah stood on her tiptoes to see over the crowd of women. “She seems passionate.”

           Polly was yelling about a revolution, adding in curses every other word. She certainly spoke like a Shelby. But Leah wasn't sure that Shelbys were so actively public. They seemed to work behind the scenes to get what they wanted.

           “She seems drunk as shit.” Beth shook her head and laughed. “Wonder what Jessie’s thinking 'bout what she's going on 'bout.”

           “They seem to agree.” The women were calling out things that needed to change and how they agreed with Polly. "I think they really like her."

           Beth grinned and shook her head. “Well, I’m glad we can get out for fresh air. Just glad we don’t have to deal with men in our own fucking shop. I’d hate to answer to some wanker who doesn’t know anything.”

           Leah laughed and linked arms with her friend. “Maybe you should be up there yelling.”

           “They’re good for fucking but not for thinking!” Beth hollered. They both burst into giggles and joined the women in demanding equal rights.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Beth decided not to open the shop up again after the rally. Leah went home with a smile on her face. She enjoyed the sense of freedom she got from being there. No longer was she a working girl who had no voice. Men didn’t keep her quiet night after night. They didn’t look at her like she was nothing more than an object to be used.

           As she passed through the door, the phone began to ring. Setting her things aside, Leah went to pick up the receiver. “Ward residence.”

           “Were you at the rally this afternoon?” Tommy sounded tired but not angry.

           “Beth and I went to watch.” She answered truthfully. “I can’t imagine anyone didn’t go, the Bull Ring was crowded. I saw your aunt.”

           He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

           “They all seemed to like her.” Leah couldn’t help but smile. Polly only got more worked up the longer she stood preaching.

           “She can be more pleasant when she’s drunk.”  

           She laughed softly. “Did you have fun hunting?”

           “Shot a stag, so I can’t complain.” He wished she were there with him. Arrow House always felt unbearably empty after Grace passed. It was a little easier the more Charlie grew. He ran circles around his nanny but was a sweet little boy who always wanted to be outside with the horses. He made the house feel a little fuller. But there was an obvious gap where a mother figure would usually inhabit.

           “Well, I’m glad you could get the time off.” She said softly.

           Tommy nodded absent-mindedly although he had thought about nothing but business the moment he arrived in Warwickshire. And now there was a Bentley parked outside in the drive and he had an idea who might be in his office. “Can I take you out tomorrow night?” He asked.

           “Sure. To the Garrison?”

           “I was thinking somewhere for dinner? Somewhere quieter.” He offered. “That way we could talk.”

           “I’d like that a lot.” Leah bit her lip as she smiled. “You can pick me up at my flat?”

           “I’ll see you then.” Tommy couldn’t ignore what he had to do for much longer. There was information he needed and he knew how he could get it. “Have a good night, Leah.”

           “You too, Tommy.”

           He slowly replaced the receiver and took a deep breath. With another breath, he straightened his shirt cuffs and entered his office.

           “I’m sorry I came unannounced.” Tatiana sat at Tommy’s desk, a playful look in her eyes.

           Something, perhaps dread, settled into Tommy’s stomach like a deadweight. He had a feeling he was going to do something he would regret.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​

Tag list: @shelbyblinded​

Masterpost

Masterlist

[petewentzworld]

Dear Past Self: Fall Out Boy's Pete Wentz Interviewed

Why looking back once in a while is integral to embracing the future...

Pete Wentz is driving around LA, speaking to me over the phone about his newly-launched range of jewellery and apparel, Ronin.

As far as rock star business enterprises go, it’s certainly extravagant, and the website’s description of the rings, pendants and hoodies held therein – “born out of the idea of wandering, a samurai without a master, and the free dreams that accompany facing the world on your own” – adds to the initial sense that Wentz’s professional career may have ballooned into parody, the kind of project Connor 4 Real from Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping might have signed off on.

“We would go and sample products in the jewellery district in downtown LA, learning why one gold looks more yellow than the other,” he tells me when I ask about it. “It’s been a really interesting learning experience.”

But then Pete Wentz, to borrow Lana Del Rey’s favourite American poet Walt Whitman, is large; he contains multitudes, and some of those multitudes just happen to involve samurai-themed lockets. Among other projects, he owns a clothing company, a film production company, a nightclub, and a minority share in American USL soccer team Phoenix Rising.

“It scares me sometimes, watching him,” Patrick Stump once joked. “The two seconds you're not with that dude he's made 30 decisions that are going to affect our band for the rest of the year.”

Ah yes: he’s also, you may recall, the bassist in Fall Out Boy.

The band recently released a new single, ‘Dear Future Self (Hands Up)’, to accompany the release of their second career-spanning retrospective, ‘Greatest Hits: Believers Never Die – Volume Two’.

Such records are inevitably a time for bands to take stock of what they’ve already achieved and what value they might continue to offer the world, and the single seems to acknowledge that duality: “Dear future self, I hope it's going well / I'm drunk on cheap whiskey in an airport hotel,” Stump reflects on the new track. Like Janus, the Greek god of beginnings, endings, and Wyclef Jean collaborations, Wentz finds himself gazing in all directions.

In the near future lies a reminder of the past. Despite the fact that all three bands have new albums coming out, it’s perhaps an easy take to view next year’s ‘Hella Mega Tour’ – Green Day, Weezer, and Fall Out Boy performing at a number of stadium dates together on a triple-headliner bill – as a nostalgia trip.

Is it something Wentz worries about?

“I think about that for sure,” he says. “There’s a danger that, once you become known as one thing, the world knows you as that thing forever. When you’ve been doing art for 15 or 20 years you do have to think about your legacy, but it’s really important to remember why you did it in the first place.”

However cynical your view, it’s hard to argue that the band don’t deserve a victory lap with two of the most influential acts in pop-punk history. “It would be insane for us to turn this tour down because we grew up on ‘Dookie’ and the ‘Buddy Holly’ video – those things were super influential on the early years of our band. So this is wish fulfilment in that way. But then I think that’s why it’s important that we did the Wiz Khalifa tour, that we do remix albums, you know? We wanna do both.”

On musical terms, at least, Fall Out Boy have often done just that. Their first two albums, ‘Take This to Your Grave’ and 2005’s breakout ‘From Under the Cork Tree’, are perhaps their most straightforward in genre terms – but even then, ‘Dance Dance’ was arguably more playful and inventive than anything the cross-sections of pop, emo and punk had served up in the preceding decade. By the time 2007’s ‘This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race’ hit number two in the Billboard charts – their commercial peak to date – the band were already steadfastly toying with hip hop and R&B in both their production values and collaborators.

“I think that there was a time when we were doing that and people were scratching their heads a little bit,” Wentz says. As he rightly points out, the days of cultural tribalism in listener habits are all but dead now in the Spotify age. “I think genre has broken down so much more now, the way people listen to music, that people are more open to it.”

‘Make America Psycho Again’ is a fine example, a collection of remixed tracks from 2015’s ‘American Beauty/American Psycho’ featuring guest appearances from Azealia Banks, Migos and Big K.R.I.T. among others. The title, of course, is a direct reference to the campaign slogan Donald Trump was using in his Presidential election campaign at the time. I ask whether the band are cautious about straying into political territory.

“I don’t think you can avoid it anymore,” he tells me, picking back up after the signal drops on our international call. “We live in a time of super inauthenticity – people taking pictures of food that you don’t even know if they eat, people having fear of missing out – and so I think, in a weird way, to cut through you have to be super authentic. Which is, to me, what people like Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Skrillex, Kanye, and whatever do. You just gotta be who you are and cut through all the noise. And I think people are… maybe not more forgiving, but more appreciative of you being honest about that stuff.”

There was a period in the 00s when Wentz was unavoidable; the video for ‘This Ain’t a Scene…’ hilariously parodied the bassist’s newfound gossip-mag status – later compounded by his marriage to Ashley Simpson in 2008, and subsequent divorce less than three years later – but inevitably, it wasn’t always something he could brush off. In February 2005, Wentz attempted suicide by taking an overdose of the anxiety medication Ativan, and ended up spending a week in hospital recovering.

Today he still finds the pace of modern life extremely deleterious to mental health, not least dealing with the quagmire of social media on a daily basis. “Every day you wake up and there’s a new take, and it’s kind of relentless,” he says with a sigh. “It can get a little numbing when you look out across social media. It can feel really lonely.

“I think that now, more than ever, who you are and what you project into the world will inform your politics, how you interact with people, how you feel when you wake up in the morning. I just want to craft things that are important to Fall Out Boy, to insert something meaningful into people’s lives. That’s really, really what’s important.”

For all the extracurricular projects, it’s clear that Wentz’s heart still beats faster for Fall Out Boy. He’s ready to keep taking the band forward, he tells me. “But it’s got to be something interesting. It’s got to have a perspective. There’s something exciting about Quentin Tarantino being like, ‘I’m just doing 10 or 12 movies and that’s it’. It’s exciting because it makes every movie have meaning. So to me, whatever it is, the next thing has to have perspective, has to have meaning, has to have feeling.”

And what might that look like?

“Maybe it’s scoring a movie, I don’t know. It’s got to be something a little bit different, I don’t think it can be a straight-up album from us.”

Beyond the nightclubs and bling, Wentz is a remarkable philanthropist – a term which has perhaps been sullied in recent times for its application in sanitising billionaires, but which feels appropriate given Wentz’s personal history, and the fact that his work directly supports those who suffer from the same mental health issues that he’s battled over the years. His work as a spokesperson for The Jed Foundation’s ‘Half of Us’ campaign, a program aimed at lowering the rate of teenage suicide, has been invaluable. It’s the kind of supported he could have used 15, 20, 25 years ago.

“I think we live in a time where there is less of a stigma around mental health, and I hope the next generation will feel even more open to speak about it,” he tells me. “Knowing that you’re not alone and other people are going through similar things is so important for our culture to move ahead. So many times when I was younger I thought: am I the only person who feels this way? I think it can be less isolating to know that, hey, Jay-Z feels that way sometimes too.”

For Wentz, who now has three children, the idea of young people today facing those problems alone is terrifying: “I’m raising kids in this world, and I think it’s important for them to know that talking about this doesn’t mean you’re weak or alone. None of it’s weird, none of it’s you by yourself. Young people need to feel that they’re part of the community as a whole.”

Across such an extraordinary life and career, I wonder if he carries any regrets. There’s a brief silence on the line, one that transcends the usual delay carried between the pink-sunset streets of LA and the Cardiff Travelodge I’m calling home for the night.

“In my twenties I felt lots of anxiety and lots of stress about every decision that we made, instead of just living life. I’ve realised that sometimes you’ve just got to live life and trust that you’ll make it from A to B to C. Live through the ups and downs. I think that’s something important that we don’t always impart on young people.”

Spoken like a man who knows real gold when he sees it.

[vmheadquarters]

Twelve years, two books, and one Kickstarter-funded movie later, one of TV’s greatest shows has made its triumphant return. Veronica Mars season 4 is just what Marshmallows around the world have been waiting for.

It’s hard to believe that a Veronica Mars season 4 exists, let alone that it has been twelve years since we all first thought we were saying goodbye forever to one of the wittiest, smartest, and most heartfelt shows to have ever been created. Who would have ever thought that a show that struggled to stay on the air as long as it did would have had such a well-deserved comeback?

I, for one, never imagined it. The hope of a small reunion, a one-off, was a glimmer on the horizon for the longest time. And then the announcement of the Veronica Mars movie came and it seemed like we hit peak-Veronica Mars revival culture. But then came the books. And the whispers of a new season.

But with every shiny new Veronica Mars property that came out, the question of “Could it possibly be as good as the original series?” always lingered in the background. Especially with this new season.

‘Veronica Mars’ season 4 review

Suffice it to say that Hulu’s Veronica Mars season 4 revival combines everything you love about the original run of the show with everything you enjoy about binge-worthy television. Updated to reflect the current world climate and to fit into the true crime era we’re now living in, this new season of Veronica Mars feels exactly like how you think a modern run of the show should.

Veronica Mars season 4 picks up not too long after the events of the movie, so a few years at most. Veronica and Keith Mars are working cases side by side, struggling as ever to keep business afloat. Though Veronica’s takedown of Bonnie DeVille’s murderer shone a bit of a light on Mars Investigations, business isn’t really booming. That is until a serial bomber threatens the lives of numerous young people and, even worse, the livelihood of Neptune: Spring Break.

Pooling their resources, connections, and keen instincts for detecting mischief and wrong-doing, Veronica and Keith set out to unmask the bomber before any more lives are lost and the 09ers achieve the return to the “idyllic” and clean (read “white” and “privileged”) Neptune they’ve been fighting so hard for.

There’s quite a lot going on in Veronica Mars season 4. So much so that it doesn’t waste any time jumping in to the conflicts or adding in any gratuitous (Marshmallow) fluff. In fact, this is probably the property’s leanest bit of storytelling as practically every scene and encounter serves a purpose in driving characterization or one of the two main plots (the bombings and the excess gentrification). Though they were also focused on one or two main plots, as well as character development, the movie and the books didn’t feel nearly this streamlined.

That could partially be due to the immense fan service those three bits of storytelling felt compelled to do. While the movie and the books trotted out fan-favorite character after fan-favorite character, there’s quite a bit less of that in this new season of Veronica Mars. While there are some beloved characters that make appearances from time to time, there are fewer of them and they’re not around as much as you’d expect.

In fact, there are perhaps more cameos that feel like they’ve come out of left field than there are appearances by some of the more well-known supporting cast. Without revealing anything, I’d say it’s important going into this season without high expectations of seeing a lot of your favorite supporting characters (if they even show up at all). Their absence is jarring at first, but, once the story gets going, it’s clear that they just don’t fit in well with the current story and shoehorning them in as fan-service just wouldn’t work.

Honestly, Veronica Mars season 4 is less about fan service and more focused on getting back into the groove of the show. Like the series’ original run, this new Hulu season is the perfect mix of darkness, laugh-out-loud comedy, and heartfelt moments. Veronica’s personal mantra that “the people you care about most will always inevitably let you down,” while not as prevalent, still very much lives in the shadows of every interaction she has and relationship she develops.

That being said, while it does work hard to return back to the show’s roots, this season isn’t an exact return to its original form. Given just how much time has passed since the show went off the air and how different the world is today, there’s no way it could be. For all of the way it emulates and pays homage to what has come before, this revival season demonstrates just how much the show, as well as the characters, has evolved.

There’s no better example of this evolution than by tracking all of the different iterations of the show’s theme song, “We Used to Be Friends.” It first changed in the show’s third season, after Veronica Mars‘s move to The CW where the story arcs and overall season structure, not to mention the setting, shifted. The Veronica Mars movie then introduced a more stripped-down and slightly upbeat version which matched the film’s fan-service/reunion vibe.

Now, in this revival season on Hulu, the theme shifts again, this time to a more haunting, ethereal, and noir-ish rendition by Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders. It takes an episode or so to get acclimated to (after all, the original theme is a classic), but it perfectly conveys just how much Veronica and the show have grown in the past fifteen(!) years. It’s sophisticated and dark yet still playful, just like this season. And it matches the stunning new opening credits perfectly.

Another example of the show’s evolution, as well as its return to form, is Keith and Veronica’s relationship in this new season. They may not have seen eye to eye on Veronica’s decision to stay in Neptune and officially join the family business, that storm cloud that hovered over their relationship in the movie has since dissipated. It’s clear that Keith still doesn’t agree with Veronica giving up her fast-paced lawyer life in New York, but he respects her decision. He makes one remark to his daughter about joining a law firm but ultimately drops the argument.

The show is all the better for this. The moments between Keith and Veronica are some of the best of the season, if not the entire series. They’re just as witty and sharp when interacting with each other, and yet there’s a more mature tenderness that has developed between them since we last visited Neptune, thanks in large part to the fact that they’re now equal business partners. Their relationship isn’t too mature, however, to not have at least one “Who’s your daddy?” quip!

Oh, and there’s a hilarious “cuss war” between Keith and Veronica that’s introduced in the first episode and runs throughout the duration of the season. Presumably, it’s a direct reference to Kristen Bell’s role as Eleanor on The Good Place, but, while it’s an allusion to the NBC show, it fits perfectly here. It’ll seriously have you laughing out loud every time it comes up.

For all of its similarities and callbacks to the previous seasons and stories, there are some pretty drastic differences between Veronica Mars season 4 and its predecessors.

Perhaps the most notable difference this season is the lack of “cases of the week.” Personally, I’m a huge fan of the “case of the week” structure because it’s a fun way to test our characters and reveal different facets about their personalities and relationships with one another. The cases also usually give the overarching mysteries and storylines space to breathe so that when those reveals do come, there’s no emphasis lost.

Additionally, these mostly self-contained mysteries provide a helpful background in distinguishing between episodes. As is so often the case with shows that are meant to be binge-watched, the episodes in Veronica Mars season 4 all run together and don’t have all that much to distinguish themselves from one another. It’s honestly hard to recall which episodes I enjoyed the most out of this season because the entire thing is a blur.

Though I do think there’s a bit of the Veronica Mars charm and cleverness that’s lost without the inclusion of smaller cases, there just wouldn’t be any room for them here with the way the season is plotted out. After all, it’s doubtful that Veronica or Keith would even dream about taking on additional cases after fully entrenching themselves in the case of the spring break bomber.

That’s not to say that there isn’t a lot packed into every episode of Veronica Mars season 4. Each episode is at least 50 minutes long, which means that, even though this Hulu revival season has a total of eight episodes, it’s almost like we’re getting nine and a half episodes worth of classic Veronica Mars (or about four movies).

It’s hard to determine whether or not the amount of episodes we get this season is optimal or not. On one hand, there’s just the right balance between effective character moments and plot. But on the other, this season’s plotlines don’t land quite as hard as past ones, at least on first watch.

The most drastic difference between Veronica Mars season 4 and the rest of the series is the fact that Veronica has less of a personal connection to the overarching mystery this time. Sure, she puts herself in the middle of everything and the bombings impact her daily life. But she takes the case because it’s the right thing to do, not because she or someone she cares about has been directly affected by the bombings.

Her lack of attachment slightly lowers the stakes for the season, which is kind of disappointing that the season focuses solely on the one mystery. Yes, people are being murdered by explosive devices. My observation here isn’t meant to make light of that. But, because Veronica’s personal stakes are generally lower throughout the season, the impact of the mystery is lessened considerably and the “whodunnit” just feels less pressing than usual.

Veronica Mars season 4 also deviates from the norm in its commentary on class and privilege. The plotline about the 09ers working to re-gentrify Neptune and drive out the “riff raff” (including the yearly spring breakers) is an underlying current, but it focuses more on how selfish the “haves” are rather than the impact all of this has on the “have nots.”

Though the movie indicated that a pretty big class war was on the horizon, that tense atmosphere seemingly evaporated in the time since Deputy Sacks was murdered in that “car accident,” most likely due to the sheriff’s department actually being not that corrupt this time around (which is a pretty big shocker).

It’s a small difference that perhaps I’m being too picky about, but after the movie did a great job discussing the racial inequality in Neptune and setting up the town itself as a bomb that was about to explode, the discussions in this new revival season are anti-climatic at best.

And then there are two side plotlines, one involving a senator and the other a Mexican cartel, that just don’t mesh well with the rest of the season at all. They’re directly connected the bomb and 09er plots, but really serve as nothing more than a distraction from everything else that’s going on. Yes, they (sort of) play their part in the season’s climax but are otherwise equal parts pointless and frustrating.

That all being said, the bombing storyline is definitely captivating from start to finish (and then some). The threat this season is no joke as the explosions come without warning and in crowded areas. The bomb that detonates in 4×04 is particularly gruesome and hard to watch, especially in the immediate aftermath. Not only that, but they’re hard to track. Many times, mysteries can be pretty easy to figure out but, true to form and thanks to a few pretty big twists, this Veronica Mars mystery will keep you guessing and feel like you’re missing something until the very end.

New to this season, Patton Oswalt’s pizza delivery guy character introduces a “true crime” element into the Veronica Mars universe which, honestly, I can’t believe we haven’t seen before. He follows all of the bombings going on, as well as the other cases Mars Investigations has taken on in the past, and adds a layer of skepticism. Not only that, but he also serves as a way of legitimizing just how intelligent Veronica is and how perfect she is in the role of a private eye, rather than a lawyer.

In this era of true crime that we’re all living in, it’s easy to forget that there are real people involved in the crimes and real lives at stake. While it’s not an official plotline for the season, one of the effective underlying currents is the slow takedown of true crime enthusiasts and just how much harder it is to solve crimes in real time and in the field rather than from a couch or a cell phone.

Speaking of characters with notable storylines, what would an article about Veronica Mars be without fangirling a bit over Logan Echolls and LoVe? After everything he has experienced in his life (especially the last few years), it makes sense that Logan we meet in Veronica Mars season 4 is quite different from the Logans we knew in previous seasons. Still a United State Naval Aviator, this Logan is regimented and reserved. He’s still witty and charming, but in a more subtle way.

However, Jason Dohring and Kristen Bell’s chemistry is still as sizzling as ever. Each scene they share is incredibly nuanced and emotional. Logan and Veronica may say one thing or act one way to each other, but their body language and facial expressions many times tell completely different stories. And yet, there’s still a sense that these two are not only completely meant for each other, but also that they’ll figure out some way to make it work.

This season takes extra care with Logan’s character, fleshing him out and bringing us all up to speed with just who he is at his point in his life. No longer surrounded in controversy, we’re able to see Logan the man rather than the Logan who’s almost always at the center of a storm. Not only that, but this season gives us a better understanding of who Logan is outside of his relationship with Veronica (or really, any other regular characters from the show). We get to see Logan for Logan. Jason Dohring gives his best performance as Logan in this season and, honestly, he’s a joy to watch.

And then there’s Veronica.

Veronica Mars is no longer the brooding teen and town pariah she once was. She’s all grown up now. Of course, Veronica still has her flaws (mainly her penchant for distrusting just about everyone and her unyielding pride), but she knows who she is and accepts all of the aspects of herself, for better or worse. This Veronica is self-aware enough to know when she’s in the wrong and she’s getting better about owning up and apologizing for it.

Also, although she tries to put up the same sharp, prickly front, it becomes increasingly apparent through the season that Veronica has softened considerably. Sure, she still just as witty and clever as she always was, but her second chance at love with Logan as well as her father’s brush with death has made her more of a marshmallow than she was before. Veronica wears more of her emotions on her sleeve and isn’t as quick to dismiss others as she has been in the past. In fact, dare I say, she’s more trusting and lets people in a lot more than she used to.

Veronica’s character development from the movie to now and all throughout this season is incredibly gratifying to watch. Following her trajectory has been a bit of a frustrating struggle sometimes, but this season makes it all worth it.

Veronica Mars season 4 has been a long time coming and, now that it’s finally here, it’s hard not to love it. This season is by no means perfect, but it feels like a proper return to Neptune and all of the characters we Marshmallows care so much about. Plus, it’s quite an enjoyable and emotional ride from start to finish with some pretty big twists and major events along the way (two in particular that will most likely set the internet ablaze).

Fans of Veronica Mars as a whole won’t be able to get enough of this fresh take on the show and will surely be clamoring for more as the final episode’s credits roll.

Random spoiler-free notes from watching ‘Veronica Mars’ season 4

The first episode makes it feel like truly no time has passed since the show went off the air. It sets up all of the season’s conflicts and storylines as effectively as its 1×01 and 2×01 predecessors.

OMG DICK.

I’ve never been more turned on by a Frank Sinatra song since 10 Things I Hate About You.

Wait, is this show actually introducing capable semi-capable local law enforcement with a sheriff that isn’t completely self-involved?

So Logan is effectively Veronica Mars‘s version of the Bruce Banner?

This season is very Jessica Jones-like in its story-telling. There are no “cases of the week,” but there is a lot of sardonic commentary to go around.

OMG THE BOOKS ARE OFFICIALLY CANON!

Is this show introducing a “new generation” here or something? Could you ever have Veronica Mars without Veronica Mars?

‘Veronica Mars’ season 4 will be streaming exclusively on Hulu starting Friday, July 26, 2019.

[spicemommy]

Drarry Fic Rec Masterlist

In no particular order, I decided that I would put together a list of fics that I found amazingly entertaining for others to read and even to look back on myself! Will be continuously updating.

(Here is a link to my stucky fic masterlist ^^)

You Cannot Save People, You Can Only Love Them by heyitsamorette - Rated E - 51K

Upon returning for Eighth Year, there are so many strange things going on with Malfoy, Harry doesn’t know where to start. He won’t talk to Harry, but he’s talking to ghosts. He won’t apologize for his past, but the Black Family tapestry has crossed him off its tree. And the worst of it all, he still has that infuriating, snotty mouth on him that gets Harry’s dick hard as a rock drives Harry insane.

-I loved this fic so much! It’s got a perfect balance of mystery and romance and Sex. This fic probably has some of the best sex scenes I’ve ever read? 100% recommend!

Written On The Heart by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 113K

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum by lettered - Rated E - 17K

This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster - Rated M - 16K

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

Mental by sara_holmes - Rated M - 186K

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

Owned by JordanGrant - Rated E - 420K

The Malfoys have always been owned by the Potters. Strange? Yes. But true, and coming true again. Harry finds himself with no alternative but to claim Draco for his very own slave.

Less weird than it sounds! It’s actually very sweet and heartfelt. 

Cabin Fever by sloppybitch - Rated E - 15K

“We’re trapped. We’re fucking trapped!” Malfoy exclaimed, throwing his hands above his head and turning away in disbelief. “I’m trapped in a fucking love-cabin with Harry Potter!”

Harry and Draco end up trapped in a twisted, perverted, and royally fucked up house in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, also known as a Love-Cabin. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound - Rated E - 149K

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

The Boy and the Sleeping Prince by phoenixacid and Writcraft - Rated E - 26K

Harry is miserable and tired of being an Auror, coasting through life until he’s forced to make some changes. Spurred on by his passion for drawing and working with best-selling author Draco Malfoy, Harry develops a charm which gives children a magical, interactive reading experience. But when it’s time to test the spell, the two men find themselves trapped in a nightmarish fairy tale world. Can they escape unscathed, or is Draco right in his assertions that there is no such thing as a happily ever after?

This fic gave me chills - it truly terrified me. I 100% recommend a read if you’re into dark things. 

Right Hand Red by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) - Rated E - 73K

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.

Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.

Malfoy felt inevitable.

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid - Rated E - 20K

Phoenix Repair Services — We’ll bring it back to life as if it was new! Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be.

Just Go With It by chibaken and loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 3K

Draco is a telemarketer who calls Harry trying to sell him stuff; phone sex ensues.

The Heart’s Honest Truth by bixgirl1 and carpemermaid - Rated E - 16K

“Don’t you think I would have gone to Pomfrey if I thought she could help me?” “Then what can I do?” “I nee—” Malfoy broke off with a soft grunt and a pained expression. He took a shaky breath and tried again, his voice wobbling. “Will you touch me, Potter?”

Draco is cursed to speak in questions. Well…Spelled, thanks to the stupidly improper archival practices of the fourth century. Harry Potter is there to save the day, but Draco isn’t going to give in to his help so easily. Fortunately, the method of saving might be more satisfactory than Draco expected this time.

Draco Malfoy, It’s Your Lucky Day by Faithwood - Rated E - 37K

Even though he’s unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

101 Ways to Heal Your Wizarding Woes by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 26K

Harry is a trainee Auror, and Draco is living at Malfoy Manor, bored and petulant with nothing to do, and no career prospects. Draco’s attempt to heal himself via Muggle psychology – including writing a series of ‘why I hate you’ letters to Harry – backfires when an overanxious house elf delivers the results to Harry. Harry is bemused, Draco is angry and together they have a lot of issues to work out.

Strange Bedfellows by hurt_mod and ravenclawsquill - Rated E - 30K 

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.           A story about Deadly Nightshade, crippling insomnia, excellent wine … and finding what you need in the strangest of circumstances.

Weeds or Wildflowers by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) and sdk - Rated E - 17K

A perfect match, a romance for the ages, with a one hundred percent success rate! Magic Match claims they can give Draco all of this. So why do they keep sending him on dates with Harry Potter?

Sex, Happiness, Shiny Teeth and Other Things Worth Fighting For by Essie - Rated E - 30K

“Let me get this straight,” Harry peered at Dawlish over the top of Malfoy’s case file “Malfoy’s brewed a potion that, erm, bottles Veela characteristics, and has without proper testing, research or Ministry approval ingested it?” Harry paused, waiting for Dawlish to nod before continuing, “Now you want me to guard him from the sexual advances of hormonally crazed bystanders, while he works on making an antidote?”

“Excellent, Potter. You were paying attention. That’s the second time this week.”

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by birdsofshore - Rated E - 28K

Harry never thought taking a job as Draco Malfoy's bodyguard was going to be easy. Add in a curse that makes Malfoy even more of an obnoxious git than usual, and Harry's got serious problems.

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious - Rated E - 23K

Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down. The Broom Closet: you can be anyone you want while you're there, but you won't remember it in the morning.

Kiss by heyitsamorette - Rated E - 15K

Harry and Draco are forced to kiss over and over again, because that’s just what happens to two arch-enemies around Christmas.

A Touch of Silk by raitala - Rated E - 4K

Harry has won a bet and Draco Malfoy has to serve him afternoon tea while wearing a dress. This should be amusing, Harry thinks. 

At Your Service by Faith Wood - Rated E - 95K

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

The Sleeping Beauty Curse by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 152K

When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

Strangeness and Charm by FeelsForBreakfast - Rated E - 48K

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

or: If two boys fall in love in a magical forest, does it still make a sound?

-This fic is genuinely gorgeous yet frustratingly heart wrenching. It’s written so incredibly well. 100% recommend!

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex - Rated E - 4K

As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop - Rated E - 70K

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Like Cinderella, But With Cock by loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 8K

”Oh, shit,” he groans, “This is like Cinderella, isn’t it?! Like Cinderella, but with cock. Cock instead of slippers.”

Where Harry’s hexed so that he can’t lose his erection until he sleeps with his soulmate. If only those were easier to find.

For the Greater Good by jadepresley - Rated E - 62K

When Harry and Draco discover they’ve been bonded to one another, neither one of them is prepared for the secrets they slowly begin to uncover.

Together, they learn that they can’t escape their past, or the things that have been left hidden there, and that sometimes the only way to move forward is to look back.

Moon-Eyed by loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 29K

Draco Malfoy, Head of Veela Affairs at the Department of Magical Beings, does not do people favours.

Harry Potter, recently turned werewolf, is not “people” – not to Draco anyway.

Does Draco plan to fall in love with Harry when he decides to help him? No. Does he end up falling in love with him anyway? Pft, what do you think?

All the Sense in the World by loveglowsinthedark - Rated E - 10K

He had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. Maybe Malfoy would kick him in the face. Maybe he’d scream loud enough that the whole school would rush in and see him lying there between Malfoy’s legs with his cock rock hard. Maybe he’d hex Harry’s rock hard cock off. Hell, maybe Harry’d wake in his own bed in a few minutes with a rock hard cock and would never again be able to look at Malfoy without sprouting an instant hard-on.

Or maybe he and Malfoy would have sex.

Lumos by birdsofshore - Rated E - 41K

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

Only If For A Night by sloppybitch - Rated E - 14K

Harry hadn’t set out the day before thinking, I know, today I want to dress up in a pizza outfit, get absolutely smashed beyond compare, crash my broom in the middle of the muggle motorway and then fall off of the Westminster bridge into the River Thames, and end up in hospital with Draco bloody Malfoy as my Healer but what else could you expect would happen in your best mate’s stag?

Or,

“What you did was get so drunk that you couldn’t remember your own name, fly over muggle London with absolutely no charms to protect yourself from their view, and stay stationary for long enough that a lorry fucking hit you because you were daydreaming! And then you only fell because you walked over!”

"You sound like a disappointed wife."

"You sound like you'd be experienced in that area."

check this hand ‘cause I’m marvellous by lq__traintracks (lumosed_quill) - Rated E - 8K

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Something I Don’t Want to Stop by lq__traintracks (lumosed_quill) and traintracks - Rated E - 16K

It's Harry and Draco's eighth year, the Houses have been all but demolished in favor of unity, and they're being forced to room together. How ever will they cope?

It’s Joggers Season (Or so the Muggles say) by carpemermaid - Rated E - 10K

Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind.

Quietly, As Requested by shiftylinguini - Rated E - 5K

Harry was trying to pretend Draco’s warm thigh against his own didn’t make his heart thump and his cock start to fill out inside his usual lazy Sunday attire ― which consisted of a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and the world’s oldest, rattiest, ugliest and most comfortable pair of joggers. In comparison, Draco was wearing a buttoned up shirt and a pair of crisp, black trousers, which made him both seem impressively attractive and also entirely overdressed for this kind of occasion. Harry lifted one knee, trying to shield the view of his slightly tenting joggers, and the state he was rapidly finding himself in.

Perhaps inviting Draco to Sunday Bad Movie night at Ron’s wasn’t that smart an idea after all.

(Reached maximum length for a post. Continued here.)

[hekate1308]

Wrong Channel

Crowley survival fix-it because... reasons. Enjoy!

“There he is. Oh Great One, not feeling so great now, are we?”

For a moment, just for a moment, Crowley is too confused to learn where he is and who is talking to him. The last thing he remembers is standing in front of Lucifer and plunging the knife into his gut so the boys can get away, and is that his heartbeat he can hear in his ears, the steady thump that’s been gone for centuries –

“Well? Have we found our bearings?”

He looks up at the –

Asmodeus. Another Prince of Hell. Wonderful. As if Ramiel wasn’t bad enough.

And not only that.

He’s in Hell, with many of those who once were his minions watching him greedily.

Furthermore, he’s not only alive – he’s human. He’s human and he’s in Hell.

He really didn’t like the first time around that happened, the last thing he wanted was a repeat.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

Crowley decides he’s too old and tired to play games. He’s always known a hopeless situation when he’s seen one, and this is about as bad... standing in front of Lucifer in an apocalyptic waste land when he can control your meat suit.

So he says nothing. Let them laugh, let them cheer, he’s done with the lot of them. He sacrificed himself to save the Winchesters, and that’s that. Whatever comes now is nothing but a boring epilogue nobody will remember or even learn about.

Asmodeus sneers. “So you don’t have anything to say to me? I could imagine there are others you’d like to speak to.”

Consigned to his fate as he is, Crowley doesn’t like the expression on his face. He remembers it from the mirror. He just had a terrible idea how he can torture him.

“You know what, my friends, I just thought of something. Why just amuse ourselves by torturing the King to death? We can as well lean back and watch as others do so.”

Crowley expects hallucinations, or perhaps one of the demons who were always against his rule, but instead, Asmodeus flicks his wrists and Crowley’s thrown back on earth.

Quite literally. He lands on an empty field and needs a few moments to catch his breath before he staggers to his feet. Asmodeus has put him in the same ratty clothes Lucifer once forced upon him, and to the hunger, disorientation and shock he feels ashamed of his appearance.

He shakes his head; that’s not important right now. Asmodeus has a plan, and they’ll be watching him.

Is he going to send hell hounds after him? His favourites, maybe even Juliet?

No; that’s not enough. Someone like Asmodeus would want to bring the worst sentence upon him that –

Oh. His heart sinks as he realizes. Of course.

Asmodeus expects him to go running straight to the Winchesters, and to them slaughtering him.

How unoriginal. And yet, not without a certain logic. The boys were the closest thing he ever had to friends. Yes, they hate his guts, but –

Something heavy settles in his stomach as he contemplates that Asmodeus might well go by his own interactions with them. He has no idea how long he has been gone, but chances are they have already run into one another.

A part of him, a weak, desperate part that almost only ever seemed to make an appearance when he was with the Winchesters, hoped they would mourn for him.

Seems like the opposite is true.

Well then. He won’t make it easy for the black-eyed bastards, now that he’s back on earth. True, he pretty much consigned himself to his fate, but here he is, and if him living on makes them angry, that’s at least a reason to carry on.

So no looking for the boys. Yes, he’ll be alone, but for his newly human emotions, it is a comfort to pretend that he could just show up at the bunker and they’d take him in.

First things first.

He desperately needs something to eat and drink, and it’s going to be dark soon.

Good thing he’s always been talented at solving problems. He soon locates a nearby city, and if he has to commit a few small crimes...

He was the king of Hell. Any attempt at trying to be a decent person is doomed to fail anyway.

Three days later, he’s on the road in a stolen car with stolen clothes on his back and stolen money in his pockets.

He spends a few weeks just driving around until he catches himself searching the paper for demonic or ghostly activities, as if he’s a pet dog trying to find his owners even though it knows they’ll just beat him.

After that, he forces himself to settle down in a relatively big city where he can live anonymously.

He eventually decides to become a business consultant – not too difficult considering he was the king of the crossroads once. A job is soon found, and then he... lives his life.

It’s perhaps not an important life, or even one that matters, but he has an apartment, a job and he even can buy the good Craig now and then when he’s careful with his budget.

He doesn’t think much about the boys except when he does.

His colleagues are neither too friendly nor too annoying, a balance he can live with.

He’s safe and comfortable.

And he’s never been more bored.

His evenings at home begin to remind him of those long senseless meetings in Hell where no one would get what he was talking about.

Perhaps because of that, he almost accidentally starts a side business catering towards hunters.

He really shouldn’t have gone to that cemetery at night, but how was he supposed to ignore news of a ghost in his own city?

Another hunter is already on the trail, and that is how he meets Lizzie.

“Fergus Sheppard” he introduces himself. Somehow, he has ended up using his hated first name again, and he can’t even say why. Maybe as a tribute to his Mother? To Gavin? Thinking about it hurts too much and it won’t change a thing, so he usually avoids the subject.

She studies him. “Not a hunter, judging by your clothes.”

He has kept the excellent taste of his demon days, so he just shrugs. “No, but I am... hunter-adjacent, you could say. I found the case and there was no reason not to get rid of the ghost.”

She nods. “Say, “hunting-adjacent” – does that mean you can get me some protection boxes? For the really strong stuff. Mine are all occupied...”

“I am rather good at procuring things” he assures her, and within two days, Lizzie has what she needs.

It just spirals from there. Lizzie tells other hunters, shares his number, and soon his evenings are filled with handling requests from hunters all over America.

He figures it’s still far away from what the boys are doing.

Either way, he feels better doing this than he has since he woke up human.

Lizzie calls him regularly. He’s almost ready to think of her as a friend, only she’d hardly be that if she knew the truth.

Yet it is somewhat comforting, hearing news from the hunting world.

Inevitably, the boys’ names fall. “I met the Winchesters today! Can you believe it, Fergus?”

“I’ve heard of them” he mumbles.

“You better have! They’re freaking legends! Anyway, they even had the angel with them – although he’s human these days.”

“Castiel?” he asks.

“Yes. Knew you’d heard more than you let on. Seems like he died not so long ago and was brought back human. Looked happy enough, though.”

He feels many conflicting emotions at hearing that – he has gotten used to that. There’s pain, and grief, just for a moment, and also envy and jealousy because Cas wasn’t brought back by some devil-wannabe in order to punish him, but apparently God himself popped back down and resurrected him and now he gets to live with Sam and Dean and no one even thought of looking for Crowley in this mess.

“Fergus? You’ve gone quite.”

“Sorry. I’m a bit tired.”

She laughs. “I forgot. You’re trying to take over your company, aren’t you.”

He jumps at the chance to change the subject.

Sadly, with his emotions all over the place and his side business growing daily, he has overlooked a certain possibility.

It’s a text like any other.

Hey, a hunter called Lizzie gave me your number in case I need anything. We need angel Feathers. Ready to pay.

He never asks for too much. Hunters have it bad enough with him forcing them to sell their house so they can kill monsters.

It takes a little longer to procure angel feathers instead of something more common like basilisk teeth, but a week later, their date is set.

He’s never had any misgivings of letting hunters in his apartment. It’s well warded, and there is nothing there to show who he used to be. So, really, the hunter who visits him has to have known him before... everything happened in order to recognize him.

Crowley freezes when he opens the door and Dean Winchester stands before him.

With his human reflexes, it’s small wonder he’s pressed against the wall in the next moment, a knife at his throat.

“Alright. Lizzie swears you’re legit, so I’m gonna take a chance and allow you five minutes to explain why your parading around in Crowley’s meat suit. And it better be a good one.”

“It’s rather difficult talking like this” he drawls.

Dean frowns and steps away.

Crowley wonders if the demons are still watching, and if they’re enjoying themselves.

If he were in their shoes, he would.

The open look on disdain in Dean’s face is almost too much.

He wonders when he became so weak.

“Look” Dean hisses, “I can bear the face, but if you keep imitating his mannerisms, I’m gonna cut your head off, no questions asked –“

That’s how much he is despised by the Winchesters. He offed himself for them, and Dean can’t even manage to hear him talk and move like himself.

Fine, then. This be the end.

He shrugs. “As you wish”. He’s using the old Scottish accent he spoke back in his first human life, and he forces himself to relax, to carry himself differently.

Dean squints at him (not quite unlike Cas would), then abruptly shakes his head. “Nope. That’s not it. You’re acting. Before, it was more...” he trails off and studies him. “Authentic...”

Crowley waits for the penny to drop.

“Crowley!?”

“In the flesh. Quite literally, these days.”

“So you’re human too?”

He nods. Undoubtedly, now comes the moment the demons have all been waiting for. Their former king being berated, insulted and degraded by the man he died for.

And Dean looks indeed annoyed as he strolls towards him, but instead of the expected blow, he chuckles and clasps his shoulder. “How long have you been back? Couldn’t pick up a phone, your Highness? Cas managed that just fine, thank God.”

“I – ahm – about a year” he replies, surprised it’s been that long.

Dean shakes his head as his hand falls away from Crowley’s shoulder. “I get you not wanting much to do with us, but still – one message would have been nice.”

“I’ll remember that” he says lamely. Because every time he imagined this scene (of course he did, even though he tried not to) he never pictured Dean being somewhat happy that he is back.

“Knowing you, you probably have some good alcohol lying around...”

“Craig.”

“Knew it.”

“So” Dean says after they’ve sat down at his kitchen table, “nice place you got here. And Lizzie says your business is booming?”

“I have been thinking about giving up my day job” he admits.

Dean nods. “She mentioned that too. Man, what an idiot I was. Fergus, too – Why, by the way?”

“Familiarity. So I would react to it appropriately.”

“Smart.”

“I do my best. I assume you still live in the bunker?”

“Yeah. Feel free to drop in anytime.”

Crowley would doubt his words, only that what follows next is an interrogation to make sure he has everything he needs. Does he have an anti-possession tattoo? How does he keep his place safe? Have the demons been after him? (That leads to an explanation about Asmodeus and Dean mumbling to himself about fixing Michael’s Lance soon) And anyway, is he sure he has enough money?

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry much about demons now” Dean finally tells him. “They got another civil war in Hell. Not everyone likes Asmodeus. Small wonder, considering they never realized what they had.”

Silence.

“Right” Crowley says eventually, “The angel feathers. Here –“

He gets them. Dean reaches out and nods. “Thanks, man. Some spells and their ingredients... Anyway, mind if I kip here tonight? I was going to get a motel, but...”

Crowley wouldn’t have believed that Dean trusts him enough to be unconscious around him, and yet he sleeps on his sofa that night.

“So” Dean tells him as they’re saying goodbye, “Don’t stay a stranger, you hear me? Just shoot me a text now and then so that I know you’re alright.”

“I will. Feel free to call if you need anything.”

Dean nods and leaves.

A few hours later Crowley gets a call from Sam and Cas, who need to hear him in order to believe Dean.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that phone call will start a chain of events that ends with him moving into the bunker six months later.

[ireneinisolation-blog]

3/21 - Podcasts

Late start again today... I guess I am finding occasional ways to occupy myself during the day even if it doesn’t involve any social interaction :(

So going light here again, and maybe shorter than the dreams one, but also maybe not.

I am a podcast enthusiast to say the least. On a normal day, when I’m not in semi-quarantine, social isolation, distancing, whatever the fuck you call this craziness, I listen to many podcasts. While I work (I still get shit done), while I run, while I clean, while I get ready in the morning, etc. Constant podcasts. They keep my hyperactive brain under slight control. Interestingly, I’ve been listening to fewer recently since locked inside all the time. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s like I’m trying to concentrate on the current moment, despite my better judgement that tells me that I absolutely should not concentrate too hard on it or I will be instantly depressed. Anyway. I guess that’s just a bizarre side note of the moment.

Normally, I listen a lot. And I have a lot of favorites. Against my better judgement, I listen to a lot of crime podcasts. They almost always bum me out, but I just can’t stop myself. The rest of my taste in podcasts is less problematic. The first time I really got into listening to a podcast was with Serial. The second one was Reply All. The latter has remained an all time favorite. Another more recent favorite - perhaps my absolute favorite at this time, is a science podcast called Ologies. I have things to say about both of these podcasts now. I’ll probably have more in the future as well.

Reply All A podcast about the internet, and a delightful one at that. One bit that they do now and then is what they call “email debt forgiveness day” where you can reply to that old email that you have waited WAY too long to get to, then it got awkward, then you just decided that socially it would be better if you didn’t reply at all. But email debt forgiveness day removes the awkward. You can pick up where you left off and just be like “sorry, been meaning to write this for ages” and that’s that, it’s all good. I’ve been thinking about this idea recently because it seems like this whole social distancing/quarantine thing is just nudging us all towards an all day, everyday kind of email debt forgiveness “day” (eternity). Should I write to that guy who I worked with in college and now we live in different countries? Probably. What about that girl I was friends with throughout high school and into college until we both got too busy and just dropped the ball simultaneously? Yeah, I think so. What about girls who I played soccer with when I was a kid? Or people who I lived with when I was studying abroad? Okay, let’s not get too carried away. I need to still *desire* contact with the people I’m reaching out to (which includes some people mentioned above but not all). Anyway, this will be an interesting opportunity to digitally reconnect with anyone that I feel like reconnecting with. It’s interesting now as that begins to happen more, as the walls of normal social behavior seem to be blurring. It is an odd experience for everyone, EVERYONE, all over the country and really the world to be experiencing this same external threat at the same time. I know we have different smaller related issues that we are dealing with (medical issues that contribute to extra fear of the virus, loneliness, childcare, job security, etc.) but the overarching issue is one that we are ALL experiencing. Maybe it can bring us together yet, even as we all shelter from each other at a distance. Happy email debt forgiveness ETERNITY!

Ologies I love this podcast. And I try to push it on everyone I know, as well as a number of people I don’t know all the time. Basically, each episode is a different topic, a different interview with a different “-ologist” explaining their field of study and research, work, etc. It is truly a gem. A couple episode I’ve been thinking of recently: Quantum Ontology to talk about “what is real??” In said episode, interviewee Dr. Adam Becker shoots down the idea/bullshit claim that some people make that we could all be living in a simulation. He explains that this is an extremely “white man” interpretation of civilizations because to make that claim you assume that all societies inevitably go through the same steps that our current western civilizations have gone through, and that they are all aspiring to the same goals. However, just because the West in this day and age was brought about the way that it is largely because of the white patriarchy does not mean that all societies would inevitably lead in this direction. Even if we look at examples beyond the West or we look instead to women to lead our societies, would “simulation” still be something seen as so likely for our societies to aim for? Probably not. Anyway, I’ve been reading a lot recently - against better judgement - on predictions on how this virus is going to play out and what will happen to society afterwards. And Jesus H. am I bothered by what I’ve read. For one, it is absolutely insane for anyone to think they know what is on the other side of this. I know it is just a prediction, but if you feel the desire to get a piece published about your bummer predictions about how the world is ending, just think again and DON’T. It isn’t useful to have someone say that things are going to turn out horribly because it doesn’t motivate people to do any better. Sure, the virus is it’s own thing. But we do have control over the politics and the economics to an extent. Hell, even the virus we have control over some science, even if the virus got a head start. I keep reading things that say shit about how we’re going to become a more nationalistic society after this (wtf, how do you even figure?) or that even though emissions have gone down in some places as the virus has gotten really bad, emissions will actually be worse later (that one is a real weird prediction because for that prediction to be true, disruption from the virus will need to be short enough that when we return to our normal lives, everything quickly becomes business as usual plus a desire to travel and consume even more. In my brain, this doesn’t make rational sense. Yes, it could happen, but there is not enough evidence that it will to bother making it into a prediction). I’ve seen similar articles over the past few months and years regarding climate change. Predictions that the climate will get way worse and there is no point hoping for anything else because we’re not capable of restructuring society to prevent the climate from suffering. That is a bullshit way of thinking. Fucking stuffy old white men who have such a limited range of thinking that if they don’t personally have any ideas of how to make things better than it must be that nobody does. Movements make change. These stuffy old men just favor status quo and bureaucracy. But the outcomes can be different if we allow the process to get there to be different. Well this has been a rant. The conclusion here is that predictions about the future anytime, but especially now, make me very angry. Now is not the time to have a narrow idea of possibilities for the future. We need to think widely and wildly about ways that society can be rebuilt after this. Nationalism, right winged bullshit, xenophobia, rigidity are not the only ways for us to regroup after a crisis. Equality, opportunity, collaboration. These are the ways that we can come out of a crisis and form a society that was better than before. And I can’t be the only one dreaming of this as an option. We can build a better future.

The other, considerably less heavy episode of Ologies that I have had on my mind recently is the Sexology episode! The episode is a delight, though the thing I want to note is not strictly sex related. Interviewee Shannon Boodram at one points talks about how we need to appreciate our bodies, and even when we are out and about and doing things, and not in any kind of a private, sexual setting, we should enjoy having our bodies. I think she mentions something about stroking your arms or something. I can’t remember, it’s been a while. Normally I’d say “well let’s try not to look like too much of a crazy person while ‘enjoying our bodies’ in public” but hey! I’m not in public now. I am mostly just in private all the fucking time. And when I am in public, on walks and such, frequently there is nobody around. So I guess as long as we are doing this whole social distance thing, we should all enjoy our bodies (as many of the other pleasures of life are stunted at the moment). Stroke your arms or legs or whatever! Be thankful for your toes. Give yourself a head massage - whether you’re on your couch or on a walk surrounded by absolutely nobody. Appreciate your body - whether it’s PG or not ;)

I’m sure I’ll have more on Ologies another time. For example, there is a two part episode on bats, which is relevant as people freak out about bats having given us coronavirus. However, the real issue is that we as humans have been invading their habitat (and don’t blame China!) There’s also a different two part episode on fear... which seems rather relevant right now. Is there anyone out there who hasn’t had at least one anxiety-induced nervous breakdown and/or panic attack since going into semi-isolation whatever? I myself have had many a nervous breakdown in the last week. It’s unpleasant. Maybe I should spend more time appreciating my body. Anyway, you’ll read more on Ologies later. For now, go take a listen.

Daily updates.. daily updates... Went to the store today in the afternoon. Actually just went for a walk but brought my bags in case I wanted to go to the store. The parking lot was very mild, so I went in. Honestly, I haven’t been into a store so empty in a long time. There were other people, just not crazy and it was very nice. I guess everyone expects Saturday afternoons to be busy or to be all out so they think it is not worth it to go. Meanwhile, I passed the store yesterday on a walk and the parking lot was PACKED completely. Weird.

Some stuff was still bare in the grocery store, but I found most of what I was looking for minus the black beans. Got many vegetables, some fruit, some eggs, some rice, some candy. The essentials. It’s still a real weird energy in stores though. There were a lot of young people who didn’t seem too anxious (about the virus anyway) - or maybe I’m reading into their actions too much. A few people went out of their way to not let anyone else in their 6 foot area. I try a bit without being crazy. Sometimes you can’t help it because that’s how aisles work. Both the cashier and the bag boy weirded me out a little, though maybe I’m being irrational like the rest of the crazies out there. The cashier coughed - just once, hardly a sign for alarm, but she was handling my groceries and it’s not preferable. The bag boy was sniffing a lot. Which was really not great, especially as he was touching all my good a lot, even after I asked to finish it up myself and he didn’t take that direction very well and decided to keep touching everything. Frustrating. It’s weird though the desire to blame someone if and when we get sick. With coronavirus or with anything else. You think, oh, I woke up with the flu today and I know that one person at work has the flu, or that lady on the bus was coughing, I bet it was her. To some extent, I would defend the fact that I blame the people who I think give me viruses because to some extent it seems to be the result of other people being irresponsible and showing up places when they should be home or not having good enough hygiene. But the thing is, viruses move. They are seeking new hosts, and they exist and survive because they move around in sneaky ways. Plus this current virus is extra tricky because the incubation period is so long and so many people are exposed from touching surfaces. So if I show symptoms in two weeks time of this new virus, will I look back and blame the sniffling bag boy (it’s not like I’ll ever find out if he gets diagnosed) or will I just need to accept that it is a sneaky little dick of a virus, and that I could’ve just touched a door at my apartment and not washed my hands well enough after or maybe the virus was already lurking on some produce that I bought. In a situation like this, blaming doesn’t seem right... except for blame on the government, and honestly many different governments. Why must they all suck as this crucial moment when they need to get shit done??

Alright, well I guess that ended on a low point. Again. My rants get away from me. It’s past midnight now (hey, it is the weekend and my sleeping schedule is always off on the weekend), but maybe I’ll take a shower before bed. It’ll remind me to enjoy having a body :D

Good night!

[deckmaniacs]

The good and the bad of Modern Masters 2017

By Sean Bartlett

Once again Wizard's fling open the concert hall doors, rolling out the red carpet for the latest star of the Magic world to strut in its heels and make the paparazzi fight for the best shots. Modern Masters 2017 is undeniably a powerful set, with genuinely excellent reprints and far less chaff that previous instalments (looking at you Modern Masters 2015). Rather than explaining to you all why a reprint of Liliana of the Veil is a great thing or how reprinting Tarmogoyf will do absolutely nothing to its price in the long term whilst Magic players continue the tradition of price knowledge that infests the majority of high value modern and legacy cards, I would rather discuss two positives and two negatives this set and all sets like it will offer to the FNM level player.

Reprinting Uncommon Staples

Every store needs its employees to actually make the business run. We can herald the store as a whole (this would be your mythic reprints) for opening more stores to help with demand but it's the workforce behind those stores that keep them truly afloat. Modern Masters 2017 reprints for uncommons are a slew of quality and needed staples for a vast majority of decks:

These types of cards are the glue that holds decks together. Playing white in Modern without a playset of Path to Exile for example just isn't possible as there aren't any replacements for cards like these. Inquisition of Kozilek is one of the premium hand disruption spells alongside Thoughtseize and continues to be heavily used black staple. Token builds (if they still exist) need Intangible Virtue and Lingering Souls to even be remotely competitive, with certain Abzan lists even needing the latter.

Whether sideboard cards or main deck four-ofs, spells like these are important role-players and many decks cannot function without them. If my money has to go anywhere in this set, it will be picking up playsets of cards like these to expand my deck building potential in the future. Uncommons can be surprisingly difficult to find, as rares tend to be jammed into every trade binder you find, and most commons are usually filler cards for drafting purposes with a low price tag. Some of these uncommons push more than £10 a single, which is ludicrous for a card that is used just for filling a typical role in that colour. Knowing that some of these cards will lower in value definitely helps newer modern players take the plunge and pick up playsets at their cheapest, which can only be seen as a good thing.

Help the Inevitable Modern Summer Push

Those who are no strangers to Modern know the inevitable increase in prices of Modern cards that take place towards the Summer holidays, with huge tournaments in Las Vegas celebrating the format annually (with this Summer being no exception). Many seasoned players will be looking to compete in various modern events over the Summer and will be buying cards to finish their decks. This means that prices for Modern cards tend to rise during this period with the increase of demand. If this set does its job well, we should be seeing some of these price hikes for many staples not be so restricting to those on a budget. With additional cards in circulation the benefits are obvious; more players can get these cards and therefore increase the popularity of the format. Simple and concise design.

The health of Modern as a format continues to be a incredibly subjective topic for a variety of players, with genuine concerns about the stability and growth for a format that fluctuates so much. Modern Masters continues to be a step in the right direction.

Eternal Reprint Sets Are Too Damn Expensive

There is no way to sugar coat this Wizards; why on earth are we expected to pay nearly £10 for a single booster pack when Modern Masters by design is suppose to give newer and more budget oriented players the chance to take part in an otherwise financially restrictive format. I get that the majority of these reprints maintain a secondary market value and you don't want to upset a portion of your player base by making their Scalding Tarns worth far less than before the reprint, but surely the secondary market is irrelevant unless it's directly affecting the Reserved List. I at least understand why that list exists because those cards are the collector 'staples' and owning them is the dream by many players. These cards are not on that list however; every single player getting into a new format is expected to buy 4-12 Fetchlands in order to compete realistically. How on earth does a recommended retail price of £10 in any circumstance help these players you're trying to draw in.  If someone already knows the Modern format and already knows what cards they need, surely they'll be using the secondary market to purchase those cards regardless. Outside of booster boxes with the intention of opening a ton of packs in the hopes of breaking even or simply to draft a new and exciting set.

Take a look at a previous example of pushing high value reprints; Fetchlands in Khans of Tarkir and Fate Reforged. Absolutely nothing negative came out reprinting those cards and Khans was sold so heavily because of them that these Fetchlands are relatively cheap to get playsets of. There are a multitude of players who play modern now that we’re able to because of this reprint, and the format was wonderfully diverse in Standard because of them (until Collected Company ruined everything anyway).

I get that regardless of my rantings, Modern Masters 2017 will sell exceptionally well, especially being a print-to-demand set unlike previous instalments. The card quality is going to draw people in and people will pay the premium, I just personally don't believe a counterproductive price tag like this does the playerbase (something you really should be listening to Wizards) any favours. Cut down the price set by at least half and then you'll see the format grow like it deserves too.

Affecting Standard's Place as the Introductory Format

This criticism is more based on the importance of introducing new players into the game over the long term. Wizards claim on their website that:

'Standard is a dynamic format where you build decks and play using cards in your collection from recently released Magic sets. Evolving gameplay and fresh strategies make it one of the most fun and popular ways to play Magic.'

So how we prove or disprove this claim? Well, all I have to show you is this:

Standard's diversity right now is pathetic. I've never seen so many FNM players be so drained about how the format is shaping out right now (this includes those even playing one of the top tier lists). Modern Masters may have come out at the worst possible time for new players, as both formats to a new player are about as restrictive as it gets. Adding to the already monumental difficulty of getting someone new invested in Magic based on the current Standard metagame, we have a Modern focused set pushing established players away from Standard, therefore widening the gap between newer and older players (Pretty good for sales though Wizards!). Banning cards is all well and good for diversity but it continues to make veteran players unsure of their purchases, nobody wants to spend £200 on a popular tier 1 deck if the risk of banning is always looming, especially in a format with rotation. Don't let this game fall victim to power creep Wizards, print solid answers to solid threats and we will all enjoy Standard more. We haven't had any decent graveyard hate this season, why?

Final thoughts

Look, I may be incredibly cynical in my writing, but these are long term problems. Newer players and older players should always be able to able to access this amazing game and interact with each other, it is the most important foundation for any community. I love the usual 'Standard VS Modern' comments we see on article sites on a  daily basis because that diversity is a healthy medium for both formats. As of writing, there is no competition: Modern is by far more interesting but its financial constraints are all that hold it back. Though Modern Masters 2017 is another small step forward, there are still issues that need ironing out. Magic is a great game because it frustrates me when I try to comprehend some decisions that are made for it, but that's how you truly love a game; you see its flaws and should always criticize them, because without criticism how can we expect things to get better.

Modern Masters is a great set full of important reprints that is far too expensive to buy at retail. It detracts interest from Standard which by far continues to be the most important format in the growth and develop of Magic. Taking more time to restructure the price of eternal sets and sort out the mess that is the Standard metagame can only have positive effects on the game as a whole.

[aowanders-blog]

Trump vs Corona Virus

In light of current events and the seeming resurgence of the virus and the complete absence of a coherent national strategy to resolve, execute or implement anything resembling a solution for the NATION.  I’m overwhelmed in a state of confusion. 

Corona Virus Breeds Compassion

Ninety five days ago 330 Million Americans united under a common goal for the benefit of our society.  Some of us needed more convincing than others, but in the end all of us “individuals” agreed to do what was right for the “majority” of humanity.  

It was a wonderful display of unity.  Unfethered kindness and endless generosity.  Even from the government.  Which stepped in and swiftly dispersed money that so many of us desperately needed to carry us through these trying times.  

It was unbelievable!  People were actually doing the right thing, and not just for friends, family and coworkers.  People were extending their kindness and generosity to complete strangers in need.  

The coronavirus was bringing out the best in humanity!  But as the saying goes,”All good things must come to end.”  Which is why I am publicizing today’s journal entry.  Because the generous kind acts we’ve grown accoustomed to over the last couple of months have come to a complete hault.  

Minneapolis Ground Zero

Civil unrest has replaced compassion with unfocused chaos.  Lashing out at any target within arms reach.  Creating symbolism out of trivial brands and products just so theres another log to throw on the fire.  

I understand where the root of this frustration begin with an overzealous power tripping authority abusing police officer.  Who was so detached from reality he couldn’t even comprehend a lifeless body wasn’t a threat to him any more.

Unfocused Protesting

What I don’t understand is what is the end goal here? Race vs race? #civilwar USA becomes 50 individual nations?

Who is actually in charge here? Trump? State governors? The kid who burnt the cop station? The group that wants to change the label on my syrup bottle? Is it the neighborhood that just renamed my rice? Is it the support group that’s going to help me understand why Elmer Fudd cant hunt wabbits anymore? Is it the CEO of Amazon who is now censoring what I can choose to watch? Is it the kids partying in the Seattle barracade?

What’s really confusing is that there are so many blind followers in the herd completely unaware that what they actually want isn’t what they are fighting for.

Defund The Police

Instead of griping over the past why not placate for longterm solutions instead of temporary victories? Why demand police reform when all that is required is a change in the language?

Simple Police Reform

If a federal law was passed that said, “No victim no police interaction,” I would be willing to bet without even looking up the stats that every one of these unarmed riot inciting murders would have never happened!

When you say #defundthepolice do you mean let’s go back to 6 shooters on our hips, or do you mean refocus the police to actually protect and serve while politicians delete outdated laws and start passing laws that are for our benefit and protection?

Do we really need an armed police officer to show up at a traffic accident to oversee driver information exchanges?  Does society really need armed individuals patrolling our streets for cracked windshields?  

How will society endure without having anyone to call for boats causing a wake?  People playing in a public park after sunset?  Hiking off trail with their dog unleashed in a National Park or any other VICTIMLESS REVENUE GENERATING INFRACTION OF THE LAW that nobody dead or alive actually cares about including the police enforcing them!

Coronavirus Raises Minimum Wage

What really needs the focus of unilateral reform is a National Minimum wage that is high enough to meet todays cost of living?

I’ve lived in more places than most people have had the chance to read about in their lives. I’ve seen the best of our country, and the worst of our country.  

I dont actually believe the root of our society’s problems is “systematic racism,” and I dont think you do you either.

The problem that I believe these protestor’s are trying to fight for is not being able to chase down their dreams because the cost of living in todays society is so high that it takes FIVE DECADES of survival skills to navigate your financial responsibilities.

Stop The Struggle

How are you supposed to get ahead in life when you spend majority of life spinning your wheels in neutral?  What are you supposed to do with a full time job that pays less than poverty?

Theres a saying that I’ve heard from locals in every tourist town I go to,”You either have 3 houses or 3 jobs in todays world.”

How is that proportiantely acceptable in todays world?  Being poor shouldn’t be probable cause for police interaction!  Driving a beat up vehicle shouldn’t put you on a police officers radar!  Changing lanes without a blinker shouldn’t warrant an armed person to investigate!

I don’t know the exact number, but I would be willing to bet 90% of all police interaction stem from a traffic infraction in a poor neighborhood!  There is no reason an armed invidividual needs to enforce traffic infractions!

Just like your skin color shouldn’t define your class!  

Which is what I believe the problem is in society.  We have allowed police departments to dictate their existence through melodramatic justifications.  We have allowed police officers to justify their funding through targeted patrols.  Which inevitably leads to poor neighborhoods because its more likely to find traffic infractions in neighborhoods that can’t afford vehicle upkeeps.  Regardless of race.  It’s a simple numbers game, but are we funding the police to protect and serve or to play the odds?  

Do we really need armed police forces patrolling for seat belt violations?  The better question is do we really need double punishment for traffic infractions?  Did you know that 3 speeding tickets in twelve months equals a suspended license?  Are you aware that public transportation doesn’t exist in majority of the towns in America?  

How do you expect people to be a productive member of society in todays world without reliable transportation?  How do you expect them to educate themselves or better themselves if they can’t get to school?  How do you expect them to pay for vehicle registration if they can’t get to work?  

The DMV is the Devil

Before we go to far down this rabbit hole I can tell you from first hand experience that the DMV/DMS literally DESTROYS lives on a daily basis!  Based off of police interaction in poor neighborhoods, and if the federal government would raise the National minimum wage to $25/hour which is what it costs to live in America in 2020 majority of society’s problems would cease to exist!

People wouldn’t be side hustling in illegal activities just to keep roof over their heads.  If a full time job would pay a liveable wage careers wouldn’t be an extinct animal.  There wouldn’t be fraudelent online posting every other ad if people could afford the products and services of America with their paycheck!  The internet wouldn’t be our generations gold rush if companies could be content with millions in profits instead of billions!  

How to Save $20,000 in 90 days

The list of examples is infinite and could sprawl throughout society, but it would all come back to the cost of living in todays world!  If 2 million Americans weren’t given that extra $600/week from the American government how big of a fiascle would this Pandemic have been with 2 million people only making $1,200/month for 3 months?  How desperate would people have gotten with no money in their pocket and no toilet paper in the stores?  How many businesses would be closed for good?  How violent would these protest really have gotten had people been starving before seeing George Floyd’s death?  

Its time to overhaul America, but we need to focus that makeover.  We need to steer the direction of our future towards a longterm solution.  Removing statues and changing food labels isn’t the key to enhancing the quality of life.  From 22 years of travel I belive society’s frustration is based solely on financial responsbilities.   Rent is too high.  Paychecks are too low.  Vacations are for the wealthy!  

If theres not going to be a national leader that’s going to step in to guide society in the right direction. Than its time for a new leader.  A leader thats going to heal the country by forcing every employer to pay a livable wage! So that the bottom half of society can delete their frustrations of desires and chase their dreams.  If this is truly the greatest country on Earth, and you can be anything you want to be than how come after 50 years of working most Americans still have no safety net? 

This is my journal entry for the day.  Which I usually don’t post for public consumption, but the answer is always NO if you never ask.

Take this time to self reflect, game plan and strategize a longterm solution for the change you want to see in the world for yourself and society.  While systemic racism is unacceptable I think society’s current frustrations reside a couple layers deeper!  Let me know what you think in the comments below.  

CoronaVirus/Covid 19 Journal Day 95 – Civil Unrest Recap Trump vs Corona Virus In light of current events and the seeming resurgence of the virus and the complete absence of a coherent national strategy to resolve, execute or implement anything resembling a solution for the NATION. 

[xalberteinstein-blog]

Beep! Beep! Beep!

by Angelo Alcudia, Allex Roiman Bustamante, and Jeremy Kyle Wee

"Jeep: A ride through time"

"Beep, beep" It is usually the sound that dominated most of the roads in the Philippines. A brazenly colored heavily ornamented, black exhaust smoke belching, military jeep inspires vehicles known as jeepneys. It is considered to be a national icon of our country- in the same league as the red double decker bus in London, the yellow taxi cab in New York and the bullet train of Tokyo. It is a living object that continues to evolve through time and mimics perfectly the situation of our state.

At first, it was Kal esa who crowned to be "The King of the Road" at the time of Spanish colonization back in 18th century. A horse driven carriage that covered with bright and lively colors, indeed it truly reflects the culture we nurtured and learned from the Spaniards. It was known to be the the upper classes mode of transportation, only the noble and official ones could afford the luxury of it. Today, it is rarely used t transport people but this classic transportation still got the charm when it comes to foreigner who wants to discover our beloved culture.

Then, there is the modern jeepney or "The undisputed King of the Road" that widely used today as the basic and primary mode of transportation. The Americans were the ones who introduced us with it way back 1950's at the end of the World War II. There were a surplus of military jeep in the United States so they sent it here for the American soldiers and also to aid the transportation after the destructive war. With our creative and innovative ideas, this ordinary military automobile was transformed into a public utility vehicle covered with variety of colors and paintings ranges from nature up to cartoon characters. Until now, majority of the Filipinos uses it despite the negative issues attaches to it.

Last but not the least, the well said "future of public transport" in our country, both Grab and Uber started to make their own mark. Some says and considers these two to be the next generation jeepney. They are the most comfortable and efficient type of transportation and by far the best one available. Though this type of PUV is young and needs a lot of improvement to cope up with our current situation of public transport.

As we continue to go forward and progress as a nation, the basic necessity such as transportation continues also to evolve from being a modern one from being an average. These changes we feel and see can be hard to apt but we will eventually develop it.  We don't need to settle to the casual and good ones because it stops us from growing, evolving and progressing for the better.

Beep! Beep! The Pinoy Ride Experience

Beep! Beep! I hear a familiar sound as I stand in the busy streets of manila. I can't see clearly because of the beaming light from the afternoon sun. It shines on my eyes as I look cluelessly around the vicinity. A few moments later, I glanced to my left and a familiar looking vehicle with flashing colors on the side comes to view. The front section of the vehicle looks pretty odd. It does not look like an ordinary vehicle. As my eyes adjust to the blinding light I  discovered the odd yet familiar looking vehicle. It's a jeepney! I spot a line leading up to the back entrance of the jeepney. I decided to follow them and use this vehicle to get home. As I enter, I bumped into a few people hoping to get a good seat inside the long narrow vehicle. The seats are lined up like two parallel roads. As I sit down, I notice myself squeezed in between two other fellow passengers. I could smell the combusting gasoline as the driver turns up the key and starts the engine. I could also smell the peculiar scent of other commuters circulating the air. During the ride, a few people extend an arm holding a few coins in their hands. Some shout "Bayad Ho!", asking random strangers to pass the fee. "Para po! " The driver immediately stops the vehicle in the middle of the street to drop off a passenger,I notice I have the same stop, so I pay the fee and get down the jeepney. I felt a relief after coming out of that tight comprised space.

Beep! Beep! Beep! I hear another driver shouting furiously at the jeepney. I could hear him complaining about the jeepney stopping anywhere in the middle of the street. I never noticed the nearly-flat tire the jeepney had. I also noticed smoke coming out from the jeepney’s engine. In a blink of an eye, the jeepney comes into an accident. At that moment, I think to myself: Is it right for jeepneys to stop in the middle of the road at any time? Is it right for damaged public vehicles to travel in road without any consent? Is this so called "National Vehicle" really convenient for everyone, including other vehicles?

On the Inside and Out

On a daily basis, riding a jeepney has been a necessary means of public transportation here in the Philippines. They are the so-called “Kings of Road” that every Filipino mounts on to enjoy the long trip to different locations here in our country. In the midst of different vehicles that emerged through the years, jeepneys still hold this title and stay undisputed when it comes to various aspects. As time passes by, it has become an essential part of every Philippine adventure, but little we know the reason behind how it became a ubiquitous symbol of our culture.

“Bayad po, makikiabot po!”

That is the phrase that you will hear every time you enter a jeepney. Look around and you will notice the Filipino citizens passing their ₱8 pesos fare from one person to another until it reaches the driver’s hands. For a short period of time, they were able to have a physical contact with persons they do not even know. In addition, some people will have an excess change from their payment and also returned to them hand-to-hand.

This instance demonstrates the renowned Filipino culture named as “bayanihan” or cooperation. In a broad sense, “bayanihan” refers to helping out one another as a community and carrying ou t a task together, thus making the job easier and decreasing the amount of labor to be done. It was clearly shown that through these simple acts, we have unity within that can transcend all the odds.

Another thing to ponder is the “camaraderie” despite the lack of other people’s identity. As Filipinos, we are one for all and all for one. We do not even consider the fact that we are surrounded by unknown individuals. Therefore, the jeepney has a stranger-friendly atmosphere that promotes companionship beyond the boundary that limits us from having interaction with each other.

“Tatlo pa! Tatlo pa! Kaliwa’t kanan!”

Imagine the inside of a can of sardines on a full load, compressed, and bumping with each other. To tell you honestly, that is just the normal environment that every Filipino citizen encounters through jeepney riding. Not to mention, you will still hear the barkers shouting at the top of their lungs to have more passengers. As a result, commuters might experience the shoulder-to-armpit, shoulder-to-shoulder, and the inevitable thigh-to-thigh physical contacts. To others, it is somewhat disturbing; to the point that they feel uncomfortable with the crowded seating. However, commuters are used to it and basically a part of the lifestyle of being a Filipino.

It may not be visible to the eyes of the many, but it reflects the public-spirited feature of Filipinos or simply “makamasa”. For the mass, it is a daily struggle to suffer in a cramped space with your posterior on the seat’s edge, squishing with other person’s body part to sit back and fill the tight spaces. We, Filipinos, ignore the unpleasant smell, discomfort, and even the repulsive miasma of smoke and fumes emitted by the neighboring vehicles.  It is our nature to think not only of ourselves, but also of others in the community.

At the end of the day, the undisputed “Kings of Road” will stay undefeated. Even though some people would settle with other transportations, no other vehicle can withstand the culture brought by the jeepney of our country. Let us not forget the values that we honed upon the experiences we have shared with our co-passengers. Cooperation, unity, camaraderie, and nationalism – are the key that will open up the bright future ahead to us Filipinos. As one nation, we are like inside a jeepney on a marvelous journey. Together, we ride as one entity and reach our destinations individually.

[captivesrp]

The next day is sunny; nature reminding him what summer is like before autumn throws him into a dreary, wet winter where rain and slush are, inevitably, ever present.

A shadow falls over Murchadh has he observes the sun; the haft of a spear is lowered down into the pit.

“Grab on,” growls the burly brigand holding just beneath its point. “Time for your interview.”

Murchadh does not think too long. He grabs on and is hauled, disgruntled, into the bright sun. He squints to prevent his vision from being washed out by the bright light. He is led into the small village of ragged tents and is stopped outside a square canvas structure. 

Murchadh is pushed inside, grateful that he has been squinting; his eyes are quick to adjust to the dark interior. The air is heavy with the scent of burning herbs. The tent is decorated colourfully, draped with tapestries. Candles and a bowl of the gently smoking herbs sit on a low table in front of a richly dressed brigand Murchadh has not seen before. The stranger’s pale red eyes watch him with interest. 

Murchadh sits on a small stool opposite the brigand and remains silent, staring at the stranger without moving. The stranger watches him back, their eyes searching and unreadable.

Finally the brigand breaks the silence. “My name is Fuldryn. I’m just going to have a little conversation with you today.” They brush some wisps of blonde hair from their forehead. “I have been told you think you know why you’re here.” Fuldryn pauses, waiting for a response.

Murchadh sits silently, as if watching a wary animal in the woods.

“I’ve heard you’ve spent a fair share of time in the woods.” Fuldryn gives a subtle smile. “You surprised Tyree when they found you---got him pretty good with a dagger, I hear.” 

Again, silence. Murchadh is deep in thought, trying to decide how to play out this meeting.

“Would you care to contribute a word or two?” Fuldryn prompts.

Murchadh shakes his head slightly to clear it. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you want me to say; all that’s been said is what you have heard of me.”

Fuldryn smiles. “I would like to know how you would assess your skills and talents.”

“Ah,” Murchadh says, “I see.” He shrugs. “I am very good at bushcraft. Barring my physical limitations, I can do anything one might need to in order to survive. I am never truly lost, day or night, woods or hills. And I am also good at storytelling,” he adds as an afterthought.

“You are familiar, then, with healing and hunting?”

“I know a few helpful plants. I can hunt anything that can be killed with a thrown knife, like rabbits, partridges, and squirrels.”

“Point north.”

Murchadh nods confidently towards the corner of the tent behind Fuldryn.

“Very good."

Murchadh almost shivers; the way in which Fuldryn looks at him is not comfortable. Revealing his knowledge has set him ill at ease, and the brigand’s intelligent look is adding to his discomfort. At this rate, his kidnappers will soon know everything about his skills and abilities.

“You have a lot to contribute,” Fuldryn says. “I am sure that you will prove instrumental in affecting our goal. What you are about to be part of is the beginning of a legend.”

Murchadh snorts aloud. Legends are what he tells gullible villagers around a campfire. Tired of being treated like one of those simpletons, Murchadh decides to be fully honest. He says, “I do not fear you or anyone else here. I refuse to fear you; I would not willingly give you that power over me. I respect the skills and abilities of those that I interact with but only as much as they warrant. If I stay and cooperate it is because I believe it to be in my best interests. I will leave when I am finished, and if it means my death, at least it will be by my initiative and choice.” He says this in a steady, calm voice, trying his best to not be aggressive. 

Fuldryn sits back and looks at him intently. 

Murchadh continues, “I have already decided to stay, not for any reason that you or anyone else has given. I have a wholly different reason. Lucky for everyone, being compliant until the task is complete is the best way to honour my own purpose. You have my cooperation.”

Fuldryn smiles dryly. “Oh good. Well,” they say, shifting onto their knees and extending a hand for Murchadh to shake, “I think I have you placed. Máerl will lead you back to your pit. Only one more night---your training starts tomorrow.”

Murchadh shakes Fuldryn’s hand as a peer, and leaves the tent.

Murchadh limps along as he is lead back to his pit, knowing that his life of ease is at an end. He gives a brief smile to Anwen as he is lowered into the pit, clutching the spear with his legs as well as his good arm. The spear remains lowered and Anwen is called up right away. 

Murchadh does not speak much for the rest of the day but after Anwen’s return they play their usual games. Anwen is getting better at moving silently and listening for his movement but Murchadh knows the woods are completely different than the bottom of the pit.

*     *     *

The next day dawns cold and foggy. He still hears the last words of his golden friend echoing in his head: “Today is the day you begin your destiny.” Murchadh shakes his head to clear it. Dreams are just dreams; he needs to focus on surviving. 

It is Tyree who comes and pulls him out of the pit, pulling up Anwen immediately afterwards. He growls, “Come with me. No funny business.”

As they walk through the mist, Murchadh contemplates slipping his dagger out from the back of Tyree’s belt, but he is sure Tyree is suspecting such an action. If caught, he would be killed, most likely---and possibly Anwen as well. It is not worth the risk.  

Through the fog ahead a figure emerges. It is a female brigand, and with her is one other child.

“Gimp, this is where you stay,” Tyree instructs.

Murchadh looks back to watch Anwen and Tyree move off. Anwen seems uncomfortable and glances back at him as she and Tyree disappear into the fog.

Murchadh waits silently for a few hundred more breaths, glancing idly at the boy beside him and the brigand watching them both. 

A gruff voice calls out from the fog, “Here’s the runt,” and a tiny boy is pushed into their circle of view.

The female brigand by Murchadh bristles at the diminutive. “That’s—!” she starts, before shaking her head and turning to her charges. She introduces herself, “I’m Asgell. Today is your first day of training You three have been chosen, for your intelligence and promise, to become guides—pathfinders. Over the next fortnight you will learn to read the stars, the trees, and the messages of the earth.”

Murchadh notices that the first boy looks nervous.

“We’re going on a bit of a hike today.” She adjusts a thick coil of rope slung over her shoulder and Murchadh wonders just what kind of “hike” they are in for today. “Follow me,” says Asgell, and turns away.

The first boy turns to Murchadh just as he steps away. Murchadh throws him a reassuring wink as he sets off after Asgell. They enter the tangled woods and walk for a time. Murchadh slows his pace to walk abreast of the other boys. “What are your names? Mine is Murchadh.”

“Ffrewgí,” says the first boy. He is heavyset and soft-looking, but Murchadh can see determination in his eyes.

“Wyddryr,” says the smaller lad. His back is bare and covered in long scars.

“Well, friends,” Murchadh says with a smile, “I guess we all have the same task in this great purpose of theirs. How accomplished are you lads at bushcraft?”

Ffrewgí looks at Murchadh with a quizzical look. "Um, I live—I mean, lived,” he pauses with a sad look, “near a forest and I spent a fair amount of time there. I’m not proficient or anything but . . . but I understand the essentials. I think.”

“If you were to go for a run through the forest---into an unfamiliar part of it---would you be able to find your way back?” Murchadh asks to clarify.

“It depends, I guess.” Ffrewgí looks at his feet.

“Where are you from, Murchadh?” asks Wyddryr. “Your accent is interesting.”

“I am a wanderer,” Murchadh answers, looking directly into the bright eyes of his new teammate. “I have picked up many dialects and accents. I use them at will."

“Where were you born?” Wyddryr presses.

Murchadh fires a question back in return, “Where do you come from? Where did you get those scars?”

Ffrewgi mumbles quietly, “I . . . I think Asgell is getting ahead.”

Murchadh looks piercingly at Wyddryr. “I understand the need to keep one’s background and history unspoken, but we must share skills and teach each other what we know so that we can help each other survive what’s ahead. You are young, but your scars say you've seen a lot. Share your wisdom---I won’t press you to share how you got it.”

Wyddryr nods, his eyes never leaving Murchadh’s own. 

From somewhere deep in Murchadh’s mind a thought springs up, and he starts to wonder how many times the brigands have had to assemble a crew of children to attempt this task. 

He remains silent and observant for the next few hundred breaths. Wyddryr’s scars are testament to a difficult past, and the pit with its daily food has probably been an improvement for him: steady food and no whips. Ffrewgí, on the other hand, has a softer body that seems to be used to substantially more food---and also, probably, freedom. Murchadh smiles to himself. He will have to find some food on the walk today; Ffrewgí will probably be thankful.

Suddenly Asgell comes to a stop. Murchadh looks ahead at a noticeable incline.

Asgell faces them and nods at the slope behind her. “Your goal is to go straight up the face of this mountain and retrieve the flag at the top. I will be following behind, but it will be up to you to navigate the climb.”

The fog is not as dense here as it was in the camp and Murchadh feels a cool breeze as he considers the path ahead. “Since you're holding rope I am guessing there are going to be some really steep sections.”

Asgell smiles. “Perhaps. It’s here if you need it.”

Murchadh smiles in return and nods. “Well, up we go.” He sets off in the lead, the other kids following and Asgell taking up the rear.

The going over the next few movements of the sun is tough but manageable for the whole party. Murchadh periodically points out the reasons for pathfinding choices he makes, zigzagging here, avoiding mudfall there, and his peers prove quite smart and quickly catch on. 

They move at a slow, steady pace until they encounter a nearly sheer rock bluff above five spear’s-lengths high. Murchadh looks to either side to find a way around it but figures it will not be possible: Asgell had probably chosen their starting point specifically to test them on obstacles like this one.

Murchadh sighs. “Well, lads, this is where I am no good. I have never been able to climb.”

Wyddryr wordlessly approaches Asgell and extends a hand. She regards him for just a moment before giving him the rope. After shrugging under it, Wyddryr is up the rock face in hardly a hundred breaths. He then ties up the rope and lowers down the slack. Murchadh and Ffrewgí hesitate and look at each other. Murchadh makes the first move, and steps up to the rope. 

It is a long, hard struggle for him, but with a few helpful tips from Wyddryr he manages to make it up.

Ffrewgí does not take nearly as long, and Asgell is up in a flash right after.

“Very good---we may make it back before tomorrow morning,” she says with a brief smile.

Murchadh winks at her then turns to Wyddryr. “How did you learn to climb like that?”

Wyddryr replies, “Where I . . .” He trails off and a hand absently moves to his back. “I had to gather eggs from birds that nest on rock faces. On the coast.”

Murchadh nods. “Teach me what it means to climb. I---”

Asgell cuts him off, encouraging them forward. “Don’t stop, now! Food is waiting back at the village!”

*     *     *

As the morning wears on, Murchadh quietly gathers berries and edible plants and slips them to the kids. He is pretty sure Asgell notices, but she lets him continue. Murchadh also has everyone drink at springs or clear brooks they encounter---water on mountains can be scarce; best to drink when you have a chance. 

Just after midday, as they are trudging along in a tired silence, Murchadh notices something move in the underbrush to his left. He motions for a halt and for silence, then moves quietly to Asgell and whispers, “Could I perhaps borrow a knife? There are a pair of pheasants up ahead.”

Asgell cocks an eyebrow and squints at him.

Murchadh tries again. “You have my word that I will not travel more than a hundred paces, nor will I keep the knife or harm you with it after I have finished with the pheasants.”

Asgell slowly pulls out a flat-handled throwing knife, still looking at him levelly. “This is one of a set of three; keep in mind that I have the other two.”

The threat does not get past him. Murchadh smiles brightly as he holds the fine weapon. “I would expect nothing less.”

Murchadh moves silently into the brush, moving in time with the swaying shadows of the forest as it dances with the breeze. He is home; the forest loves him and he loves it. He ghosts forward until he has a clear shot at the two pheasants. He throws for the larger of the two first. The knife glints, then disappears into the feathers of the bird’s breast. The other panics and desperately flutters onto a low branch of a nearby tree. 

Murchadh retrieves the knife from his kill, lines up his next throw, and takes the second bird down from a distance of at least five paces, the knife turning three full rotations before burying itself in the pheasant’s feathers. If the knife had not been made specifically for throwing, Murchadh knows the throw would have failed.

After collecting his kill, Murchadh heads confidently back to the group. He approaches Asgell with caution and slowly extends his left hand with the knife sideways. “Thank you, it is the finest blade I have been able to hold.”

She smiles and reclaims her blade. “Now, who is going to cook these fine birds?”

Ffrewgí steps forward. “I can, if you like.”

Murchadh smiles and hands him the pheasants, then looks to Asgell. “May I gather some herbs to flavour the meat?”

She nods. “Don’t be gone long.”

Murchadh nods and in a short time finds some wilting chives. Traveling back to the group by a different path, he also harvests some sage and mint. He shrugs; maybe Ffrewgí can use these. Murchadh returns to the smell of a small fire. Ffrewgí’s hands are coated in feather-down, dressing the last bird. Murchadh deposits his finds by the boy’s knee then sits back to watch.

In short order the birds are over the fire, and not long after that they are ready to eat. Asgell takes the smaller bird for herself and Murchadh takes only a leg of the other, letting Wyddryr and Ffrewgí split the rest. 

Murchadh settles back to eat, enjoying the taste of fresh meat. Between bites he discreetly eats some second growth dandelion plants, harvested from right behind him, that are not old enough to be unbearably bitter. He enjoys watching life slowly re-enter Ffrewgí as he eats, but Asgell will not let them savour the moment for long; before the three kids are finished, she stands and instructs them to start off up the mountain again.

*     *     *

Another rock face stretches up before Murchadh. Inwardly, he groans; the last one had been hard enough, and he had still been fresh from a night’s sleep. Wyddryr climbs first, as last time, and points out some really helpful features. Murchadh moves to the bluff, but before he lifts himself up to start the painful climb, Ffrewgí steps up next to him. The boy fiddles with the rope Murchadh has wrapped around his right arm, allowing for Murchadh to still have the security of it around his arm but devising a way for him to be able to to feed it by and still use it to pull himself up with.

Using Ffrewgí’s clever weave and Wyddryr’s pointers, he makes it up without too much trouble, and when Ffrewgí and Asgell make it up after him they all trudge onward. As they walk, Murchadh feels aches grow in his shoulders and arms: climbing is putting to use a whole new set of muscles for him; he had not even realized that half of his aching muscles had ever existed.

The sun is well past its zenith and is beginning to touch the western horizon when Murchadh pauses to look back. He knows they are close to the top . . . and they need to be; the effect of the pheasants has faded away and his companions are once again captives on a forced march. He is exhausted himself, but he has spent years traveling; exhaustion is something he can handle and pathfinding is second nature to him. As long as he does not have to climb another rock face he will be fine---

Then he sees it: the flag! The top is hardly a spear’s-throw away! There is just one problem . . . the flag is directly above them, up a craggy rock face. A small part of Murchadh’s spirit dies within him as he looks up. Their rope is likely only one third of the length of this rock face. He sighs.

Wyddryr looks up with slumped shoulders. Murchadh walks along the bottom of the cliff for a few hundred paces each direction, but there is no hope; climbing it is their only path. Wyddryr walks back and forth, inspecting the base of the cliff, muttering. Then he climbs.

He goes a quarter of the way up and ties the rope off to a rock spur, then waits on a thin ledge. Murchadh follows him using the rope while Ffrewgí holds the rope taunt at the bottom so his arm-weave system will work smoothly. When Murchadh reaches the ledge, Wyddryr pulls him up and they wait for the other two. This process happens twice more, Wyddryr finding ledges, cracks, and spurs to tie the rope to or rest on, the others following when the rope is secure.

The light is fading fast now and the last leg of the climb is before them. Wyddryr makes it to the top in short order and after securing the rope to something out of sight throws it down. After Ffrewgí completes the weave on his arm Murchadh begins his climb. He is halfway to the top when his left hand slips and his feet leave the rock face. He is falling!

Then, just as quickly as he started to fall, he stops with a sharp jerk to his right arm. The rope has bound itself tightly to his arm! He notices he is swinging and looks down to see Ffrewgí hanging onto the rope for dear life, suspended over sixty paces of cliff face. Murchadh yells, “Hold on!” and starts to encourage the rope to swing into the cliff. After a couple of tries, Ffrewgí is able to regain his perch on the ledge, and then Murchadh is able to grip back onto the cliff. Only after he removes his weight from the rope, lifting with his left hand, does he realize the genius of Ffrewgí’s weave. If enough weight is applied from below, the weave will bind on his arm. Ffrewgí must have seen Murchadh fall and had thrown his entire weight onto his end of the rope to catch him. Murchadh owes his life to Ffrewgí. 

Murchadh shakes his head with a smile and throws himself at the rock, climbing now with new confidence.

*     *     *

The moon is gleaming as the last shreds of colour fade from the western sky. Ffrewgí tears down the flag and looks at Asgell with a blank stare, as if willing her to not make them climb back down the way they came.

She gestures to the south as she says, “There’s the hiking trail. We’ll take that way back. We need live recruits and it would be nice to not have to replace you.”

The group sets off south across the flat peak. Murchadh is tired, and the right side of his body aches from exertion unlike any he has ever experienced. As they start off down a clearly marked trail, he turns to Ffrewgí. “Thank you, I owe my life to you.” Too tired to wait for a reply and barely aware of anything but his sore body and exhaustion, he falls into a walking rhythm and loses himself in the hike back.

The sky is black, dotted with stars, when they reach camp and are fed and led to new sleeping quarters---small tents, barely big enough for two children. He finds himself back with Anwen. She is already asleep. He falls asleep instantly upon lying down, hoping tomorrow will be better.