#I don’t care if it’s been nearly two decades that beach scene still too soon

[hudine]

This is another Doctor Who - Witcher crossover I’ve got the first chapter done on. This takes place in the same multiverse as my other Doctor Who fic sideways parenthood only 300 years later. You don’t have to have read it but it would help explain who Jaskier is more. He’s one of Rose and Ten’s twin boys who has accidentally got stuck in the Witcher universe and has basically been waiting for three decades for someone in his family to answer a distress call but the TARDIS got herself mixed up and brought Ten there at the wrong point of the timeline.

Forby all of that it’s basically wrote as a Doctor Who story. People have been going missing with mysterious lights being seen in the area. Geralt picks up a contract to go investigate followed by his loyal bard companion who is acting shifty.

Sideways Parenthood

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The evening sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets as Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier entered the quaint village. The last rays of sunlight glinted off the Witcher's medallion as it swayed with each step. Murmurs of ‘Witcher’ echoed from villagers who noticed the white-haired traveler, while others whispered about the peculiar bard with him.

Jaskier, ever the observer, glanced around, noting the nervous chatter and occasional fearful looks from the locals. "Geralt," he began, his voice tinged with unease, "Have you noticed? This place… it feels off."

Geralt grunted, his gaze scanning the surroundings. "I've been in my share of strange places. But yes, something's not right."

"The lights," Jaskier continued, twirling a feathered quill between his fingers. "I've heard stories from other villages about odd lights in the sky. You know, like those elven tales? But this... feels different."

Geralt's yellow eyes narrowed as he looked up at the twilight sky. "I've been hired to investigate. But I suspect it's not just some simple spectre or creature."

Jaskier's thoughts whirled. He harboured suspicions he wasn't prepared to reveal. Despite his human appearance, Jaskier was, in fact, a Time Lord—a mere three hundred years old, young by Time Lord standards. He currently resided in a pocket universe nestled between several larger ones, all interlinked by temporal rifts. In essence, he had been cast adrift in the multiverse's vast currents. He had dispatched a distress signal to his family, but given the time-space distortions generated by the surging rift energy—locally termed as ‘chaos’—he couldn't be certain they'd receive it. His father, the Doctor, once fell prey to a world that devoured TARDISes in a similar pocket universe, making him particularly wary of such distress signals. Jaskier hoped he'd at least investigate, because if not, his mother, Rose Tyler, might very well hasten his next regeneration. Yet, there had been no sign of the Doctor or of Jaskier's siblings, his twin brother Johnny and older brother Zaiden, or even his grandfather, Narvin. The tale of Narvin's identity, tied to the Time Lords fleeing the war and temporarily becoming human, added another layer of complexity. In this intricate web of identities, Narvin had assumed the guise of Pete Tyler, Rose's father.

As the two walked towards the centre of the village, an old woman, clutching a shawl around her, approached. "Witcher! I've seen them lights! They're bad omens, they are," she croaked.

Geralt nodded, listening intently. "Where did you see them?"

She pointed to the eastern edge of the village. "Over by the woods. Just after sundown. But not just lights. Shadows, too. Moving shadows that don’t belong to any creature of this land."

Jaskier felt a chill run down his spine. "Thank you," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. "We'll look into it."

The old woman hobbled away, muttering prayers under her breath.

Jaskier leaned closer to Geralt. "Moving shadows? That doesn’t sound like any creature you've fought."

Geralt simply replied, "Every contract is a mystery until it's solved." But even he couldn't deny the growing unease.

Jaskier sighed, his gaze drifting towards the woods. Unbeknownst to Geralt, the bard's hearts raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was no ordinary mystery, and deep down, Jaskier wondered if he was on the brink of a reunion he hadn't expected when he followed Geralt here.

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With a familiar grinding noise, the blue police box materialised at the edge of the village square. The door creaked open, and out stepped The Doctor, his brown trench coat flapping as he stretched, followed by Donna Noble, her red hair catching the last remnants of sunlight.

"Oi! Where have you brought us now, spaceman?" Donna exclaimed, looking around, a mix of curiosity and skepticism evident on her face.

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver, pointing it skyward. "Somewhere... interesting. Temporal disturbances, Donna. Time's gone a bit wibbly-wobbly."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh, not that phrase again. Can't you just once say, 'Donna, I've got no bloody idea what's going on'?"

The Doctor grinned cheekily. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Noticing the villagers eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and wariness, Donna leaned in and whispered, "Do they even have police boxes here? We stick out like a sore thumb!"

The Doctor, always observant, quickly noticed the subtle unease among the villagers. "Something's got them spooked," he remarked, his playful demeanour shifting to one of concern.

They began to weave through the village, the Doctor occasionally pausing to scan various objects with his sonic screwdriver, while Donna tried striking up conversations with the villagers. Most shied away, but a young lad, drawn by her vibrant hair, approached.

"You're not from here, are you?" he asked Donna.

She smirked, "What gave it away? The hair or the fabulous fashion sense?"

The boy giggled but then hesitated, "It's just... you should be careful. The lights... they've taken some of us."

Donna's smirk faded, replaced by genuine concern. "Taken? Taken where?"

Before the boy could respond, The Doctor rejoined Donna, having overheard the conversation. "What lights?" he pressed, kneeling to the boy's level.

The boy pointed eastward, "Over there. Near the woods. They dance and shimmer, then... someone's gone."

The Doctor's face darkened, and he stood, sharing a serious glance with Donna. "We need to find out what's happening."

Donna nodded in agreement, her usual feisty demeanour replaced with determination. "Let's do it. But, Doctor... no running off without me this time, alright?"

He offered her a reassuring smile, "Promise."

With that, the iconic duo made their way towards the eastern edge of the village, armed with nothing but their wit, determination, and a sonic screwdriver. Little did they know, their paths would soon cross with two other unexpected travellers.

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The village tavern, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, was a cacophony of sounds, from the strumming of a lute in the corner to the muffled conversations of villagers trying to drown their fears in ale. The atmosphere was dense, an almost palpable sense of unease hanging in the air.

Jaskier, ever the performer, tried to lift spirits with a lighthearted tune. His fingers danced across his lute as he sang, his voice soaring and filling the room. Despite his efforts, though, the applause was lukewarm. He took a seat at the bar, feeling unusually discouraged.

Donna, noticing the skilled bard, approached, her drink in hand. "That was lovely," she remarked, genuinely impressed. "Though I don't think I've ever seen an audience less responsive."

Jaskier chuckled, "You'd think they'd never seen a bard before. But thank you, kind lady."

Donna grinned, "Kind? That's a first. I'm Donna."

"Jaskier," he replied, raising his drink in a toast. Their eyes met briefly, a shared understanding passing between them. Both felt out of place, both sensed the tension in the air.

Donna leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know something, don't you? About the lights?"

Jaskier hesitated, struggling to keep his expression neutral. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged, "Just a hunch. And my mate, The Doctor, he's got this... knack for finding trouble. Or maybe it's the other way around."

At the mention of ‘The Doctor’, Jaskier's hearts skipped a beat, memories flooding back. But he masked his surprise quickly. "Ah, physicians. Always meddling, aren't they?"

Donna smirked, catching his attempt at evasion. "Oh, he's not that kind of doctor. Let's just say he's... unique. And I've got a feeling you're more than just a bard."

Jaskier laughed nervously, "You're quite the observer, Donna. But some stories... they're better left unsung.”

The fact that Donna was here meant this was the wrong part of his father’s timeline. Yes he and his twin brother had been born, but the Doctor didn’t know that yet. This was between Bad Wolf Bay where his mother chickened out and lied about being pregnant and the Dalek Crucible.

He'd always heard about the running joke concerning his Aunt Donna's uncanny ability to miss every alien invasion. That changed, however, when she encountered the Doctor; from that point on, her observational skills became almost unsettlingly sharp. Jaskier was deeply thankful for his perception filter, which prevented others from noting anything out of the ordinary about him—be it an additional heartbeat or his unchanged appearance over three decades. He often pondered its effectiveness on Geralt, but given that the Witcher never remarked on any of Jaskier's anomalies, he assumed it was doing its job. Then again, Geralt had the uncanny skill of observing minute details for years, perhaps even decades, without ever voicing his observations, particularly the glaring ones.

The moment the Doctor entered the tavern, Jaskier's hearts stuttered. It required all the self-control he possessed—which, truth be told, wasn't substantial in this regeneration—to maintain his shield and resist reaching out to the familiar solace of his father's telepathic touch. He'd forgotten how much his original form, before his first regeneration, had resembled his father’s tenth. That initial transformation had been prompted by his TARDIS malfunctioning upon his tumultuous arrival in this pocket universe.

Before Donna could rope him into conversation with the doctor Jaskier got up and started to play. He played a lot of his usual songs but just to make his father twitch instead of ‘white wolf’ he’d sing ‘bad wolf’ but only some of the time. Then he went into another song he wrote for his parents a long time ago.

Well I woke up today,

And the world was a restless place;

It could have been that way for me...

And I wandered around,

And I thought of your face;

That Christmas looking back at me...

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

And I started to walk,

Pretty soon I will run;

And I'll come running back to you...

'Cause I followed my star,

And that's what you are;

I've had a merry time with you...

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

So have a good life,

Do it for me -

Make me so proud,

Like you want me to be;

Where ever you are,

I'm thinking of you, oceans apart

I want you to know...

Well I woke up today, and you're on the other side,

Our time will never come again;

But if you can still dream,

Close your eyes it will seem,

That you can see me now and then...

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

Jaskier took another break, feeling the crowd in the tavern wasn’t quite warming up to his music. He was also too anxious to use his empathic abilities to lift their spirits.

Suddenly, he was approached in a rather confrontational manner.

"Who are you?!" demanded the Doctor.

"It's Jaskier, a bard and a graduate in the seven liberal arts from Oxenfurt," Jaskier responded with a hint of pride.

"You kept singing 'bad wolf'," the Doctor persisted, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

"I assure you, Doctor, my song was about the 'white wolf', not 'bad wolf'. I am, after all, the personal bard to Geralt of Rivia. I've been chronicling his adventures in song for the past two decades. Just ask anyone," Jaskier said, trying to keep his composure.

"Doctor," Donna interjected softly, trying to defuse the situation, "give it a rest."

"He's hiding something, Donna! You said it yourself. And that last song... I recognise it. It topped the charts during Christmas in 2007 when I was at the Powell Estate in London."

Jaskier's eyes widened, "Truly? A number one hit? Oh, what a delightful surprise!" He then realised he said too much.

“How do you know of Christmas? This isn't Earth, and the technology here is hardly Earth-compatible,” the Doctor pointed out triumphantly.

Caught off guard, Jaskier blurted, "Oi, is that a flubble over there?"

To Jaskier's astonishment, the mention of the tiny Gallifreyan rodent usually kept as pets actually distracted the Doctor. He seized the moment and bolted. Donna, however, was right on his heels. Just as she was about to grab him at the edge of the woods, they were engulfed in a swirl of lights and vanished, leaving the Doctor and Geralt, who had just arrived due to the ruckus, staring in shock and confusion.

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Song for those not familiar with Doctor Who is called Song For Ten written by Murray Gold for the Christmas Special in 2006.

[myelocin]

To Us, A Love Story Unwritten | Kuroo T., Miya A.

Hello!! Before you begin reading, THIS STORY IS A PART TWO to Redefining You , which I highly recommend you read first because a lot of things are connected! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bonus

Synopsis: Time away from Tetsurou leads you to the serendipity that is Miya Atsumu. 

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, You, Miya Atsumu

Genre/Warnings/Tags: None! Angst,  HEALING, Hurt & Comfort, surfer!Atsumu, tattooed!Kuroo, Fluff

WC: 7600+

a/n: here’s a word dump of my feelings bcos i made an oopsie and projected real ppl in 2d characters again

*playlist if u want maximum feelies: Blue (Elina), Miles Apart (Nick Wilson)

-

The thought of healing didn’t cross your mind until some months later.

In the mornings after that morning, you stood in your balcony, leaning against the railing with a mug of coffee, your thoughts wandering. Sometimes you thought of what kind of coffee you liked, and other times you caught yourself wondering how Tetsurou moved through his six AMs. Morning thoughts were reserved for the things you prefer to keep out of your head during the day. Tetsurou, of course, had always been an exception. He somehow always flowed in your train of thought whether the numbers on your watch flashed 3am or 3pm.

Or now, you thought after taking a quick peek at the time in your phone, 6:19 AM; all you could think about was how sad his golden eyes looked against the black of Tokyo’s backdrop.

Tetsurou making his way into your thoughts has always how it’s been for almost a decade, and habits are a little hard to break. At least, that’s what you say to reason with yourself.

Thinking back to your words that night, the “I love you” just kind of slipped out. But you know you meant it. Shifting your wrist to the side, you studied the tattoo again, then closed your eyes to remember the expression on your best friend’s features.

You meant the I love you, you told yourself again. Towards yourself that was for sure; towards Tetsurou.

And that’s always going to be the case, taunted the voice in the back of your head.

After that night, Tetsurou had broken up with his long term girlfriend for good. Though he didn’t necessarily ruin himself over the breakup—there were changes.

He still texted you at odd hours to show you a video he thought was funny, still showed up to your apartment for movie nights, and more or less was still present. But it was during the particularly sentimental scenes in the movie where he’d choose to refill the popcorn or grab another soda, and you could see that his can was still half full. You noticing that Tetsurou always chose to pick the other boba shop that was on the other side of town never flew past you either. You knew that that was the shop he always used to take her after classes—so even seeing how his hands never failed to tighten against the steering wheel when the two of you would drive by, you always pretended not to notice. Even though four months had passed, you know that for him, the wound was still fresh.

And remembering how sad he looked that night, you couldn’t help yourself to feel for his pain. At the end of the day, weren’t you just two people who yearned for the love that couldn’t be yours?

So you sigh and take a sip of coffee from the mug; it had grown a little cold. The digital clock on your phone read 6:31 AM next to a text from Tetsurou asking if you had time for lunch later.

Replying a quick ‘yep. meet u at the usual :)’, did nothing for you trying to have a more productive day off today and thus the morning felt a little slower than normal, so you sigh. Again.

It was going to be one of those days.

-

Tetsurou always made it a point to look gorgeous. Was he trying? Probably not, but that son a bitch knew people gave him looks that lingered a bit too long to be considered just a passing glance. You nearly snort in laughter at the way he opens the door to the café a little too, for better words, extravagantly, and walk to you purposely taking his time because you could tell he felt the way the young mom sitting at the table near the counter was giving him the look.

Then again, you don’t blame her. You weren’t too far from her reaction, albeit you actually had the decency to not openly gawk at him. Tetsurou plopped down in the chair opposite from you and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and propping them up the table before grabbing the menu from the middle of the table.

Already knowing your order, and his even though he still looks through the menu every time, you sit in your seat waiting for him to settle on the same thing he ordered the last time you ate there.

“Tetsu, why do you have to be so extra every time you see someone looking at you for more than three seconds?”

He cocked his head to the side and peeked at you from behind the menu, “Because I’m hot, tree.”

Though you rolled your eyes at the nickname, you still smiled at the familiar banter, “I still don’t get why you call me tree when you’re the literal beanpole in this friendship.”

“That’s rich coming from you, considering you told people you knew a talking rooster in highschool,” he deadpanned, but you knew he was on the edge of a chuckle from the way he emphasized his words.

“Hey,” you raised your arms up in defense, “people thought you were interesting that way so…”

Tetsurou set the menu down and rolled his eyes at your response as the waiter greeted the two of you. Before Tetsurou could open his mouth to say what he wanted, you spoke, “I’ll get the carbonara and he’ll get the tonkatsu ramen—“

“Oi-“ he interrupted from the side, still, you continued, “we’ll also get iced tea, extra sugar for him, and a little less for me.”

The waiter looked between the two of you waiting for Tetsurou to finish speaking but he only leans back huffing out a, “She’s right.”

You smirked. “You get the same thing every time.”

“Well what if I want something else one day?” he replied to which you rolled your eyes as a reply.

In between bites, Tetsurou looks up from his meal, “Any plans?”

You twirled the straw of your drink around the liquid and looked at him, “I was thinking of traveling somewhere. My boss is letting me take some time off, and season’s kind of slow, so might as well.”

He nods, and then points his chopsticks at you, sighing, “Oh to be young and employed with an employer who doesn’t want to kill you with work.”

“We’re literally seven months apart,” you deadpan.

He huffs in his seat and continues eating.

-

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

You look to your left at Tetsurou who’s facing you, no longer paying attention to the movie playing in the TV.  Smoothing out the blanket on your lap, you sigh and tilt your head. “Kinda? I’m thinking somewhere warm. Kinda miss the sea.”

At this point the movie you two settled on a few hours ago had been completely forgotten, so you shift your body and face him. He offers you your third (or was it the fourth?) can of beer for that night, which you take and pop open immediately.

“(Y/n), can you even swim?” he laughs.

You glare at him from behind your drink. “I can go and look pretty in the beach while sipping my margaritas thank you very much.” 

Tetsurou clinks his can against yours and leans back against the couch, shifting to a more comfortable position. When he finally settles, he positions his head in a way that’s still facing you.

Draping your legs across his lap, you rearrange the blanket so that it covers the both of you. You feel the weight of his hands leaning against your legs and then hear him speak, “How long are you gonna be gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a month? Two months? Haven’t even got the ticket yet.”

He gives you a look you can’t decipher, and then his voice becomes a little quiet, “What if I want to go with you?”

“Tetsu, you know your job won’t let you off that long,” you reply. 

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and pout at you, “You’re going to go and find a new surfer best friend who’ll buy you margaritas that flips his hair and you’ll forget about me.”

You chuckle. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

At this point the alcohol must have hit the both of you because you suddenly look at him, eyes soft in the way you usually would mask in the hours you were sober. He looks at you, equally as deep in the state of inebriation as you are because his eyes are as hazy as the slur in his tone when he says, “Nope! Because you looooove me (y/n).”

And he laughs at his own joke, tilting his head back to take another swig of beer. The comedic undertone flies past you anyway, because you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and sadly nod, “Yeah. I do”

In front of you, Tetsurou raises his hand, smiling, then hollers, “High five! Love you too.”

If it wasn’t for the liquid confidence, you would’ve laughed along to his joke and take another gulp of your beer to swallow the confession—but you’re four cans in and Tetsurou saying that he loves you too clouds the usual boundaries swimming in your head.

He doesn’t notice you when you take another heavy gulp from your can, or bite your lip afterwards, but he hears you when you say, “I do, you dumb fuck, I love you.”

And as soon as you say it, you feel him look at you. You choose to keep your head down. A few beats of silence passes before he speaks, “I know, (y/n),” he reaches forward to grab your hand, taking it into his. He traces the lining of the tattoo before continuing, “I know your tattoo story. And I’m still proud of-“

“I love you, Tetsurou,” you could almost wince at how loud it echoed in the silence, and the alcohol is still swimming in your system so you take another gulp hoping to dive deeper.

You feel him stop tracing the lines on your wrist so you take your hand back to your lap. He let the quiet envelop the room again before he spoke, and you could tell he was careful with his words.

“That time in the balcony, when you said you loved someone…” he trailed off so you look up and catch his stare. His eyes were still glassy; your head was still swimming, the rational thoughts further muffled by liquid confidence.

“I meant you,” you say, and try to fight the urge to break eye contact.

And because Tetsurou chooses to reply with a hushed ‘I’m sorry.’, you tell him ‘it’s okay, Tetsu.’ and retreat to your bedroom with a mumbled excuse of sleeping off a headache.

You lie in the dark with one hand over your eyes and sniffle quietly. You hear his “I’m sorry,” echo in the silence, but you try to ignore the thought at how immediate the apology was. He always had a habit of thinking about his answers in uncertain situations.

But you know him more than you give yourself credit for, you realize, so you shut your eyes and ignore the sting of the tears because you know. You’ve always known everything you felt for him had been on the unrequited side for the most part.

The certainty in his apology still hurt none the less.

--

That morning you wake up with a slight pound in your head and an empty apartment. At least he didn’t stick around, you thought, fully aware that the conversation afterwards would have most likely been too awkward to sit through.

Sighing as you rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you paused in your track to look at the table where a plate of omurice lay in the middle next to a glass of sweet tea, the condensation still a little fresh on the glass.

Taking a seat and whispering a soft, “Itadakimasu”, you picked up the glass and took a sip. It didn’t taste as sweet as his.

Your eyes still stung, but you couldn’t help but smile at the taste. Looks like he remembers how you like your tea too.

-

After that night, there never really came a talk about where the two of you stood. Two days after the not so sober confession, Tetsurou showed up at your door with a bag of donuts demanding your company to picnic at this new spot he found recently. So you played along and pretended like nothing happened. The rational thoughts were back, your head no longer cloudy so this time, you laughed along with Tetsurou.

Though you could tell this time around his gaze towards you lingered a little longer, and he began to have moments where it looked like he was contemplating to start a conversation then ultimately deciding against it at the very last second. It was fine, though. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that conversation just yet.

So the next few weeks flowed like how it always did. Movie nights, playful banters, small talk, and beer—only this time you never drank more than two.

“Have you decided where you’re going?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s this island in the Philippines. Siargao. My flight’s next week. The place looks sunny enough, but I might hop around the other islands if I stay long enough,” you reply.

“Don’t drown,” he laughs, and sets his beer down. You turn your focus back to the movie after chuckling at his reply and ignore how he never picked up a third can this time. And unlike before, he didn’t ask if he could come along this time.

-

Tetsurou drops you off with a half hug and a request that you update him as often as you can.

After a final wave at the gate, you board the plane with a return ticket to Japan slotted for two months later down the year.  

-

The island of Siargao is as beautiful as the pictures you always see on social media. Outside the unit you rented, was a stretch of untouched beach that was some ways from the main square of the city. And true to your words, for the first week of your arrival, you spent your days kicking the sand, lounging by the water and sipping on margaritas.

Tetsurou sent you multiple messages during the first few days, to which you replied through selfies with your margaritas. He’d send you a photo of himself rolling his eyes with the caption “off to work, because I have a job. Like some people.” , or something along similar lines.

You tried to think this wasn’t some random trip you took just because of Tetsurou. It had been a long time since you last took a vacation for yourself; work was lenient, you saved up enough, and frankly, you missed the beach. Tetsurou was just the icing on top of the cake that helped you make your decision, you rationalized.

Plus, you thought, this place is paradise.

And you held on to that thought because a few days later came the knock on your door at six in the morning that introduced you to the serendipity you never could have predicted. Your little summer serendipity came in the form of a six foot one, and totally ripped blonde named Miya Atsumu.

He knocked at your door asking if you knew any places that rented out surfboards and scooters. By the time he was at the third word of his sentence, you knew he was Japanese because of the accent that lingered after he spoke. By the fourth sentence, he smiled in a way that had his eyes crinkling. And by the end of the conversation, by whatever being possessed you in that moment, probably that extra margarita, you had agreed to go to the main square in the city with him.

Atsumu knocks on your door for the second time that day at five in the afternoon wearing a loose white button shirt and another eye crinkling smile. Dangling a set of keys in one hand he nodded behind him and said, “Ready to go? I got the scooter from the place you told me.”

This time, you voiced out your hesitation, “Ahh, it’s alright. You don’t have to get dinner for me tonight. I just happened to know a place.”

He smiles and blinks at you laughing, “Ya travelin’ alone?” You nod then he continues, “Same here. Might as well know someone in the area. Heard the food here’s good, so let’s go.”

You open your mouth to protest but he turns and walks towards his scooter so you huff and follow after him. He did have a point. You were going to be there for two months so might as well actually take the time to know some people.

-

After Atsumu helps you fasten the belt on the helmet, he tells you to ‘feel free to hold on to my waist if ya need to balance.’ and then backs to the main street. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he drives along a road parallel to the stretch of water on your far left. It must have been close to seven, you take note, because as you glance up the colors in the sky begin to blend into mellow hues of orange and red.

You look forward and glance at Atsumu’s reflection in the side mirror before briefly catching his eye. From the mirror, you could see an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

“Ya like what ya see?” he yells over the wind.

You squeeze his shoulder, then lean closer saying, “Just drive. I’m not in the mood to die.”

He laughs over the holler of the open air and you can’t help but smile along to how his laugh lingers in the air.

Soon enough, the two of you settle into a restobar by the beach, one close enough to the water where you could ditch your flip flops and let your feet sink in the sand.

This has got to be the fifth margarita I’m drinking today, you think to yourself before taking a sip. Still good though, you inwardly snort. Atsumu sits across you from the table nursing his own choice of drink.

The atmosphere was nice, the live musician strumming his first song in the background. Then Atsumu speaks from across you, “So,” he begins, “How long ya stayin’?”

You fiddle with the straw of your drink, facing him, “Two months. You?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know yet. Off season and there’s not much to do back home, so might as well be bored somewhere a little more scenic.”

“Indefinite vacation,” you nod—impressed, “Must be hella loaded.”

He laughs again, “I’m comfortable.”

The silence envelops the two of you again, but as the musician begins another song, from the corner of your eye you see Atsumu listen, clap, and smile so you decide maybe befriending this stranger won’t be so bad after all.

The next night you head for go for drinks, Tetsurou messages you with a picture of him and Kenma in the car with a caption, “movie night minus the traitor who left the country >:((“ and you reply with your signature margarita selfie with Atsumu throwing a peace sign to your right. Tetsurou replies with a smiley face and you don’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

-

The next few weeks consisted of waking up shy of the sunrise and walks along the trail where the waves crept towards the sand. Atsumu liked to join you in the mornings, of course, the days he actually wakes up before ten AM. Some days you’d watch him peddle out into the water catching wave after wave as you sat in the sand, under a shade. You didn’t really go out into the water and preferred to just sit in the sun, so the times Atsumu would catch a break, he’d lay out a towel next to you and sit to talk.

He was talkative. Extremely talkative. But it was welcome, you suppose. He asked aimless questions during conversations. Conversations with him usually sounded like this: “(y/n)?” “Yep?” “Whadda ya think about riceballs?” “They’re…okay, I guess.” “Good to know.”

It was endearing, you suppose. Atsumu respected your boundaries and never pried, that fact was for sure. Though, he chose to fill in the beats of silence with little facts about his life. Over the course of the next month, in the moments you’d spend with Atsumu during the day, you’ve learned that he was playing for a professional volleyball team, he’s originally not from Tokyo, he tripped during a fan meeting, has a twin brother who’s darn good at cookin’ (he emphasized), and that his favorite food is fatty tuna. You don’t remember specifically asking, but he talks anyway you can’t bring yourself to mind one bit.

During the past month and some, Tetsurou sporadically texts you a greeting to which you reply to—but this time, it wasn’t until much, much later that you realize you didn’t think too much about the change of tone and much hastier conversations. You usually ended the phone call this time around, too.

Nearing the last few stretches of golden hour, Atsumu would routinely knock at your door and drag you out to walk around the beach only retreating to your respective units hours after the sunset.

It was during this one night where Atsumu sits you down and stars a small bonfire. He excused himself for a brief moment then came back with a Tupperware of what you assumed to be snacks, a blanket, and a hoodie which he lent you (that up to now you still haven’t returned).  You smile as he takes his seat next to you, comfortable in his hoodie.

“So,” Atsumu breaks the silence, “how come yer runnin’ away for two months?”

“That’s kinda sudden,” you reply.

He knocks your shoulder with his lightly before speaking again, “You don’t have ta’ share if you don’t wanna.”

“No pressure,” he says again and his eyes crinkle at his smile so you press your shoulder against his and say, “I just wanted time for myself I guess.”

He nods, so you continue, “It’s nothing dramatic, really. For a big part of my life I just…lived according to how people placed me in their lives. I guess I just wanted the space where I had to make decisions from nothing if that even makes any sense.”

“Depends. How many margaritas did ya have today?” he jokes.

“Atsumu! You were with me the whole day, I haven’t even had one yet,” you laugh out.

“But I understand what ya’ mean. Yer all good, I just thought you were gonna say you were soul searchin’ cause of a boy that broke ya’ heart back home.”

You look at him and wince. “In a way, that was a factor as well.”

Half expecting a sympathetic reply, you find yourself rolling your eyes and laughing because Atsumu suddenly yells, “Bingo!” and flicks your forehead.

He faces you and holds his hands up, “Hey, we all got a reason to do stuff so I ain’t gonna judge ya’.”

You smile and lean against his shoulder because you know he’s sincere. 

“Atsumu?” you call out.

“Yeah?” he replies as he turns his head looking at you. 

The red of the flames flicker as a glassy reflection against the brown in his eyes and your thoughts become jumbled for a second.

“If I find out you’re here because you got dumped I’m never letting you live it down.”

His eyes crinkle along with his laugh and you find yourself missing the pools of brown, but the echo of his laugh resonates clear in your ears as compensation so you decide you’re satiated.

“I swear I just got bored back home!”

Atsumu spends the next few hours by telling you stories and giving you soft smiles, and you don’t notice the absence of Tetsurou’s message that night.

-

On the afternoon after some weeks more, Atsumu comes to you by knocking at your door at five in the afternoon (which doesn’t even surprise you at this point), demanding you put on swimwear because he was going to teach you how to swim. At first, you stare at him with a blank look—wherein he stares at you right back with equal intensity, so after some time, you sigh and shoo him out, telling him you’ll meet him outside after you get ready.

After tugging on some shorts and a bikini top, you walk outside and glance around looking for the telltale blonde of Atsumu’s head. It doesn’t really surprise you when you hear your name being hollered from some distance, so as you look to the direction of the water—you see Atsumu waving his arms wildly, already waist deep out in sea.

The water was warm, at least, and you carefully wade in the water towards Atsumu. He lets you grab his arms to help you find balance against the waves knocking against you.

“You know you’re going to fail if you try to teach me right?” you say.

“Just needed an excuse to get you in the water,” he chuckles. 

You respond by splashing him with a handful of water. And somewhere in between splashes of water and playful banter, you find yourself wading chest deep into warm water, Atsumu’s arms acting as your anchor against the push and pull of the waves. The two of you stay like that for some time and you allow the woosh of the water and distant sounds of the children on shore fill the silence.

“Golden hour’s almost up, ‘Tsumu, we should go back.” you say after some time. 

He stands behind you and leans down a bit, then surprises you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. Your breath hitches, then his voice sounds low near your ear, “Look at the sky.”

And so you do. The sky in front of you lights itself in bursting shades of oranges, reds, and touches of violets. You turn your face to the side but stop because you see Atsumu staring at you, the expression on his face soft.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” his lips part to say, and you nod because you see licks of the sky’s painting reflected in the glassy brown pools of Atsumu’s eyes.

He blinks and smiles in a softer way that only the corners crinkle up, and you don’t notice how your hand eventually found its way to wrap around his because you’re gravitating towards him—face angling closer until you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Did you know,” you begin, “when you feel deja vu that means the universe is telling you you’re going down the right path?”

Atsumu looks as you, “Does this feel familiar?”

“In a way,” you respond and smile.

Turning to face him, Atsumu’s hands cradle yours as he presses his lips towards the side of your lips, then back to the side of your head feeling him smiling into the kiss. “You’re somethin’ else, (y/n).”

You look at him wearing a smile mirroring his, “Something good I hope.”

It’s something good, you decide later that night as you settle in bed after dinner with Atsumu. The past few hours flew by in a mirage of good conversation, light hearted jokes and even more eye crinkling smiles from Atsumu.

Settling into the comforter, you grab your laptop just in time as Tetsurou’s face pops up on screen, requesting a video call. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you hit the accept button and wave hello as Tetsuou’s face appears on the screen. He holds a can of beer as a greeting and leans forward. His eyes look glassy.

“(Y/n)..” His voice trails off before slowly continuing, “—how are you?”

You don’t notice his tone from the high you’re still feeling from the day so you beam at him, “I’m good! Atsumu and I are really hitting it off! You’d love him Tetsu!”

He stares at you through the webcam and then he sighs deep. Finally catching a drift of the atmosphere he’s giving off, you watch him crack another beer open and slowly speak, “You okay? Did something happen?”

He sets the can down at the table in front of him and places his face in his hands. You notice the new ink around his forearms. “I miss you, (y/n).”

“I’ll be home next week, Tetsu,” you say

“I—“ he pauses to look up at you with glassy eyes, “I think we should give us a try.”

Your heart clenches. “Tetsurou, you’re drunk. We can talk when I get home.” He shakes his head, and his movement is a little sluggish, so you continue to speak before he could, “I saw the photo your ex posted earlier. You’re still not okay, Tetsu.”

He leans back to his chair with a little force, “And suddenly you are? After being in love with me for eight years, (y/n), you expect me to believe that you’re suddenly okay? Bullshit.”

Your face grimaces, and you feel anger bubble up, the emotion seeping into your words, “I don’t think you’re ever going to go away, Tetsurou. For years I watched you fall in and out of love with someone who was never me. I’m not suddenly okay but I accepted that this—“ you pause to gesture between the two of you, “—isn’t going to happen and I’m moving on. I watched you when you were at your happiest and I deserve that too, Tetsu. I deserve to be at my happiest whether it be by myself or with Atsu-“

“We can try, (y/n),” he cuts you off softly.

“But I don’t deserve someone who isn’t sure about me,” you reply.

And maybe it’s the liquid confidence that riles him up, but he suddenly straightens his back and looks at you with the same glare you stare at him with, “And are you sure about Atsumu? You told me none of us are saints, (y/n), you’re not better off than I am here.”

You open your mouth, but the silence remains; the atmosphere suddenly heavy.

Then Tetsurou slumps before he he speaks, “(Y/n), I—“  

“It’s okay, Kuroo,” you watch as he winces at his surname, “It’s late and I really want to get some sleep. You should too. Take care.”

You catch the last second of him parting his lips at an attempt to reply before you promptly ended the call and shut off your laptop.

His words ring in your ear the entire night, and you think of Atsumu the entire night. You watch the second hand of the clock on your bedside table tick slowly. Your hand comes to rest against your eyes as you try to let sleep pull you in.

You think of Tetsurou who looked at you with glassy eyes that told you all the reasons why his heart was still hurting, then you think of Atsumu—of how the sunset looked better reflected in his eyes than it did painted across the sky.

“I really hope this is something good,” you echo your words from earlier as you let sleep finally succumb into slumber.

-

The night before your flight, Atsumu seats you outside for a bonfire, with the same blankets, snacks, and hoodie fitted around you. The first few hours he jokes about little stories that happened throughout his life and listens patiently when you’d share a snippet of yours.

At this point, you weren’t sure where the two of you stood. You look at him from the corner of your eye as he blows against an extremely burnt marshmallow before sheepishly offering the stick to you.

“When we’re back in Japan I’m lettin’ ya taste ‘Samu’s cookin’ to make up for this I swear.”

You lean your head against his arm and blow on the charred marshmallow, “Have you decided when you’re coming back?”

“Yes, but I’m not tellin ya,” Atsumu chuckles.

“What!” You exclaim, suddenly sitting up, “You already have a ticket?”

“That’s also a secret, doll.”

You sigh and move to lightly punch his shoulder, but instead, he catches your hand midway and envelops it in his own. Atsumu looks at the tattoo on your wrist peeking out, so tentatively, he pushes down the sleeve and looks at it.

“Baby’s breath means eternal love, right?” he asks, voice hushed.

“I’m surprised a big, buff, man like you knows,” you reply.

“Oi, big buff men can be sentimental too,” Atsumu quips.

“(Y/n),” he begins then looks at you in a way that suddenly has your stomach churning, “Should we give us a go at this?”

He asks the same question as Tetsurou did a few nights back and your head is swimming. Tetsurou’s words muddle the thoughts in your head as you turn to face Atsumu who is looking at you with eyes that always held the same softness that remained unchanged from two months ago.

Is this even fair for Atsumu? is the thought that you circle around.

“I don’t want to give you only half of me, ‘Tsumu,” you cradle his cheek in your palm and your heart stirs when he leans in. 

“You’re too good for me,” you confess.

He closes his eyes and you find yourself missing the dancing specks of scarlet flames reflected in his orbs. 

“You’re killin’ me, doll,” he sighs, his face still warm against your palm. Atsumu’s hand trails up and cups your hand that’s still flush against his cheek.

“Is this the part where we say we’re the right people who met at the wrong time?” he jokes quietly. Atsumu looks at you with a smile contrasting against the somber expression in his face, and you feel your heart clench.

Your thoughts momentarily flicker back to the night you talked to Tetsurou in your balcony some months ago and remember the feeling of déjà vu hinting that you were heading in the right direction with your decision.

Staring back at him, you look at your own reflection in darkened pools of brown and don’t feel déjà vu’s familiar push. Atsumu’s other hand trails up your face and his thumb rubs against your cheek. You stay silent when he sighs again and your heart clenches in the way that hurts, and your brain scrambles for a reason why.

Atsumu angles your hand in a way that lets him press a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. “Hope ya heal in time, (y/n).”

You’re still quiet, thoughts still muddled as your rationality wrestles to string words to convey to Atsumu. “We can stay in contact, ‘Tsumu. I still want you to be in my life,” you slowly say.

“I don’t wanna be hurtin’ you while you’re still tryin’ to find yourself,” he says, and you nod. Déjà vu never comes and your heart still aches.

And your heart remains heavy as the two of you stand up to retreat for the night. Against the door of your room you look at him and press a kiss on his cheek. He smiles at you.

“Well, I guess,” you initiate, “see you around?”

He smiles and crosses the short distance between the two of you, then presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “If the universe wills it, doll.”

The feeling of déjà vu is absent for the rest of the night.

-

After the first few days of your arrival back in Japan, you stay in your apartment cursing the winter. This particular winter was a little harsh for Tokyo and the sudden temperature change you needed to adjust to didn’t help with your traitor immune system. Kenma had waited for you at the arrival area of the airport instead of Tetsurou that day. Then again, you weren’t complaining—you didn’t have any plans to talk to him immediately after coming back home.

You didn’t need to report back to your job until the next week so the first few days, you loitered around your apartment mindlessly passing the time. Some mornings, you’d drag a chair by the balcony and sip your morning coffee. The snow accumulating on the rails and the gloomy morning light was a far cry from the little island you explored with Atsumu back in the Philippines, but your thoughts still ghosted around him from time to time.

The morning you left for the airport, he slept in, but that didn’t stop you from leaving a sticky note in his front door with your contact details neatly printed in the paper. Throughout your day, your eyes constantly flickered to sneak glimpses at your phone’s notification bar, but there was never an unknown number. So you sighed, and instead scrolled through the photos you managed to capture with him. The image of Atsumu stared back at you through the screen, expression beaming with unfiltered happiness and you find yourself smiling along every time.

A knock on your door one morning brings you out of your haze. Before you could look through the peep hole, another knock comes and then a voice, “Ah, (y/n), I think you’re home now,” your hand on the door knob loosens, “It’s Tetsurou. Can we please talk?”

You must have stayed quiet too long because he speaks again, “I got you donuts.” 

And you sigh, because he’s right, the two of you need to talk. But you still tell yourself you’re only opening the door because it’s six in the morning and you can’t be bothered to make breakfast so the donuts are the only reason you’re letting him in.

-

Tetsurou sits on the opposite side of the dining table gripping the handle of his mug with one hand before he clears his throat and looks at you, “I’m sorry.”

“Tetsurou,” you begin, “You’re someone that I don’t think will ever leave my system.” His eyes are a little clearer now that you return his stare. “You’re still the person who grew up with me even if time difference existed you know. You’ve had so many roles in my life and that’s never going to change.”

He looks at you, suddenly looking like a teenager again. His golden eyes stare at you and gleam of something unspoken. “I think somewhere along the years I really did fall in love with you, (y/n). And it just sucks how we never met at the same page. I really do love you, (y/n).”

“Maybe in the next life, Tetsu,” you say suddenly choked up. “We both deserve-“

“A fresh start.” He cuts you off, smiling. “A fresh start.” You affirm.

Before you knew it, Tetsurou rolls his sleeve to his elbows and angles his arm showing you a small outline of the sun peeking out behind some buildings. You look at him just in time for his explanation, “It’s not as sentimental as your baby’s breath tattoo, but sunrises remind me of you.”

You feel your eyes water when you look at the amber of his eyes growing glassier, “You got a tattoo that reminds you of me?”

“You’ve always been a constant in my life, (y/n). I shared so many sunrises with you. And I mean it when I say that I want you to find what makes you happy.” He tells you as you smile and lean forward, tracing the lining of his tattoo. The moment feels a little like déjà vu that doesn’t disappear when Tetsurou speaking again, “I love you enough to realize that kind of happiness won’t be with me, (y/n).”

He looks at you and everything feels so familiar. You choke out a sob that sounded a little like a laugh and Tetsurou does the same.

“You’re never getting rid of me, you lunatic,” you say, and Tetsurou laughs—eyes glassy from the pricks of tears fighting to slide down his cheeks. “We’re okay, right?” He asks you. And you nod, because your heart constricts in a way that doesn’t hurt, the knot in your stomach gone and Tetsurou looking so beautiful from the morning light that filtered in feels so familiar.

“Always, Tetsu.”

And after some moments of comfortable silence, he looks to the window on his left saying, “So, surfer dude slash volleyball player, huh? I think you got a type going on, (y/n).”

You roll your eyes and finally grab a donut from the box. “Yeah.”

Tetsurou chuckles, “Tell me about him. He’s the first guy who makes you look dopey in love.” So you smile and look out the window thinking about the boy who spoke of the little moments and showed you worlds under the sun and feel your heart mellow to a gentle beat, “He’s something good.”

-

Atsumu’s number doesn’t show up on your phone for the next month, but you try to keep yourself from doing your own research, or as Tetsurou pointed out, stalking, for his presence in social media. If he didn’t want to be found, you’d just leave him to it.

Tetsurou sits across from you at the arrival gate in Haneda airport later that month, scrolling through his phone and mumbling curses because Bokuto, his friend, had told him the wrong time for his arrival and won’t be arriving until a few hours later. Instead of driving back home, wasting gas, and sitting through traffic, you suggest to pass the time at a café instead.

“I swear to god, (y/n), remind me to end my friendship with him the second he lands,” Tetsurou huffs from across you.

“You’re being dramatic again,” You roll your eyes, laughing. 

“He’s gonna be here in a bit,” you pause and stand up, grabbing your phone, “I’ll go check the board so stay here.”

“Since you left your wallet here, I’m treating myself to another frapp, thanks (y/n)!” you hear him call from behind you, so you turn to flick him off as you keep walking.

-

Looking at the board above the gate, your eyes scan to look for information regarding Bokuto’s flight. Under said flight, you smile looking at SIARGAO listed within the board. Briefly, your thought wonders off to Atsumu; you hoped he was doing well.

A flow of people begin to trail out of the gate and into the lobby. Assuming that it must be from Bokuto’s flight, you stand on your tip toes from your little corner to look for the telltale monochromatic palette of his hair.

Grabbing your phone, you hastily press call to Tetsurou’s contact name, to which he answers with a drawled out “Heeelllloo?” along with an exaggerated slurp to the Frappuccino he bought with your card.

You open your mouth to tell him to come over, except that you don’t because standing a few meters in front of you is a familiar blonde.

From the phone in your ear, you hear Tetsurou call your name, so through the haze in your thoughts, you mumble a quick “Never mind.” and hang up. You don’t think Atsumu notices you just yet because he’s pulled his luggage to the side, a little closer to you this time, and pulled out his phone to what you could guess was him texting somebody.

You don’t speak for the first few beats of silence because, holy shit this is fanfiction material—is this actually happening? Eventually he pockets his phone and looks around, before his eyes spots you, who at this point, is still openly gawking at him some distance away.

Then three things happen in succession; first, Atsumu’s eyes widen, second, he blinks really fast, and then finally, third, cracks a smile.

And as soon as his smile pushes the crinkle in his eyes, you feel yourself release the breath you’ve unconsciously held in. He pushes his luggage with him as he walks towards you, hand held up in greeting and the smile still plastered wide on his face.

“Yo,” he says and your heart bursts with your reply that came out a little more breathless than you’d expected, “Hi.”

-

Tetsurou stands some distance away from the two of you, holding your wallet and his Frappuccino. He spots the blonde mop of head you’re staring at, really you should chill out (he thinks), and immediately recognizes his features as Miya Atsumu, the same guy who’s been a part of your daily margarita selfie for the two months you were in the Philippines.

The bedhead watches you walk towards Atsumu, and he to you before you both met somewhat in the middle, then looks at you, finding himself smile because of how happy you looked. He stands in his spot and can’t help but feel some sort of déjà vu as he stops himself from approaching the two of you. His heart, he realizes, clenches in a way that sort of hurts but sort of doesn’t, but because this is the first time looking at you with a smile so unabashed, he settles with the thought that because he loves you—you deserve nothing short of the happiness you’re feeling now.

And you can’t help but feel the same as Atsumu laughs out a comment about how the universe must really want the two of you together. His arms circle your figure after exchanging a few pleasantries and inside jokes and you smile into the crook of his neck.

“This feels a little like that déjà vu thing ya talked about before, ya know.” He mumbles. And for the brief moment you see Tetsurou’s text on the screen of your phone reading, “whipped.”, you laugh in a way that has you feeling dizzy and light. You feel like you could cry when Atsumu kisses the side of your head, because this moment feels so familiar.

Atsumu feels so familiar. So when you break the embrace and look at the reflection of your watering eyes in the warm pools of his, more than ever, you were sure that this is exactly where the gods meant for you to be.

-

a/n: *i’m aware there’s no direct flight from haneda/siargao but pls bear w me ;A;

proceed to Epilogue :D

[yumeka36]

Thoughts on Rebuild of Evangelion (all movies plus ending interpretation)

*Artwork credited to リオ on pixiv*

Now that Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time, the last movie of the Rebuild of Evangelion saga, has been released, I'm finally ready to discuss all the movies as a whole, including my interpretation of the ending...

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!

I've been a fan of Evangelion for nearly 20 years, starting back in 2002. After hearing the series praised by some classmates, I asked for the DVD set of the original TV anime for Christmas that year. I was 15 years old and a fairly new anime fan at the time, so naturally I was blown away by the show. The Internet was young then, and since there were no fandom wikis or YouTube explanation videos available in those days, I had to rely on a few scattered fan sites and my own resources (mostly bonus features on the old DVDs) to try and figure out the lore and symbolism. Even though many aspects of the series, as well as the eventual "true ending" movie, End of Evangelion, left me scratching my head, I still loved it and it left a long-lasting impression on me. And now, here I am almost two decades later, sharing my thoughts about the new movies...

-Before Thrice Upon a Time was released, I hadn't touched Evangelion since 3.33 came out in 2012. I had forgotten many details, and since Evangelion is a franchise that is fraught with nuances and subtleties that can be key to understanding what the heck is going on, I wanted to watch all the Rebuild movies again before watching Thrice Upon a Time. So I plowed through all four movies this week, and I gotta say, after being away from the franchise for so many years, I'm happy to report that I still thoroughly enjoyed it. But I can also recognize that it is definitely not a series for everyone. The drawn-out technobabble, constant introduction of lore jargon with little to no explanation, and the ambiguity between what's real and what's symbolic, can certainly turn off casual viewers (it gives Kingdom Hearts lore a run for its money!) Funnily enough, as I was watching the Rebuild movies, I was thinking, "I understood the lore better 20 years ago than I do now, lol" (maybe it's because I was younger and didn't have as strong of a theorizing mind as I do now!) But after reading through a bunch of pages on the EvaGeeks Wiki, I learned enough to get a gist of the story's vaguer elements. But unfortunately, the fact that information necessary for understanding the plot can only be found by Internet research, could certainly be a turn-off for viewers. But at the same time, for those willing to make the commitment, or at least appreciate the series' other qualities even if you can't follow many aspects of the lore, it's definitely an anime unlike any other. There's a reason it's been such a well-known franchise in Japan for so long.

-Asuka has been one of my favorite anime characters ever since I saw the original Eva TV series, and thankfully, I'm happy with what they did with her character in the Rebuild movies. My only complaint is that I preferred her original backstory that emphasized her relationship with her mother, rather than having a "clone-complex" similar to Rei. However, her character development in this new storyline made up for it. The Rebuild movies really nailed her abrasive, no-nonsense personality that hides depth within. There were also more scenes that showed her "softer" side, something I always felt was lacking in the original series, such as when she confides in Misato towards the end of 2.22 and when she confesses her feelings to Shinji in Thrice Upon a Time. I also felt her initial dislike for Shinji and Rei was a bit more warranted this time; despising the fact that they were able to become Eva pilots purely by connection to Gendo while she had to work hard for it. But again, we get more hints at her kinder side when she makes the sacrifice to help Rei get Shinji and Gendo together. This is pretty contrasting to the original series, where she was always oozing hate for Rei. Even their infamous elevator scene ended differently in 2.22 compared to the TV series, where instead of hitting and yelling at Rei, she agrees to help her (in her subtle, Asuka-way). Asuka and Rei also had a brief scene together when they were at Village 3 in Thrice Upon a Time, and the way Asuka talked to her made me feel like she actually cared about her, or at least didn't hate her. But even with the Rebuild movies giving Asuka more scenes to show her goodness, they still stayed true to her tough-love personality - it's not like she suddenly started smiling a lot, or gave Shinji a passionate hug, or broke out in tears...they developed her character without making her do a 180 change, which I appreciated. Even in her final scene with Shinji on the beach before he saves her (loved that scene, and the shoutout to End of Eva there) she still reacted in her "tsundere" way (though not as harshly of course). I'd also like to mention that they made the fourteen year time-skip in 3.33 very believable in terms of Asuka's growth. I really liked the hardened, lone-wolf, protector role she had in Thrice Upon a Time because it makes sense - fourteen years had passed and she not only matured during that time, but she had spent all those years being the sole Eva pilot along with Mari fighting to protect humanity, so settling into that kind of identity makes sense for her. But yeah, Asuka's always been a great character, and the Rebuild movies made her even more awesome in my opinion.

-When I first watched 2.22 years ago when it came out, I was puzzled that they decided to put Asuka in the Eva that Unit-01 ends up destroying rather than Toji. But looking back on it it now, it worked better since they had a plan for Toji's character that had nothing to do with the Evas. I did kind of miss Asuka's friendship with Hikari though (they could have tied that into her staying with Toji and Hikari at Village 3 instead of with Kensuke). I actually wrote a WYDS fanfic for End of Evangelion way back in 2003 that emphasizes Asuka and Hikari's friendship (that's somehow still on Fanfiction.net!) But she got a friendship with Mari instead, so it's fine, lol (I also liked that they removed her crush on Kaji, which I never thought fit well in the original series). But I do wish we got to see what was going through her mind while she was stuck in the Eva and getting attacked by Unit-01. We know she was aware of what was going on because she knew what Shinji did (that he didn't try to save her or attack) so it would have been nice to see a scene or two of her reactions.

-Misato was always my second favorite character after Asuka, but I wasn't thrilled with the coldness she exhibited towards Shinji after the time-skip in 3.33. I know she probably got hardened after all those years and maybe still felt resentment towards him for initiating Near Third Impact (which killed Kaji among others). But even so, I felt like her coldness was more to keep the suspense rather than stay true to her character (plus she was the one encouraging him to do what we wanted at the time of Near Third Impact). It makes sense for Asuka to be cold to Shinji, since she was always standoffish like that, but Misato was always shown to be a source of warmth and the most "human" of the characters. But at least she made up with Shinji in the end and got to finish her story arc with a bang (literally).

-I'm not sure if it's still a thing now, but back in the day, Shinji got a lot of hate from anime fans for being too whiny and indecisive when confronted with his task of piloting the Eva. But even all those years ago, I always thought those reactions made him believable. Maybe it's because he's compared to anime shonen heroes like Naruto and Luffy, who are always cheerful and brimming with motivation, while Shinji is pretty much the opposite of those kinds of characters. But it makes sense for him to be like that...if I were a fourteen-year old kid who never knew my mother, had a father who abandoned me, and had to live on my own in a crumbling world while witnessing death and destruction all around, I'd be pretty hesitant and scared too. He's definitely not a "wish-fulfilling" protagonist like many shonen and super heroes are, but a protagonist grounded more in reality, representing a disillusioned youth. So it was nice to see him finally get over his insecurities and be proactive with saving everyone at the end of Thrice Upon a Time (compared to everyone giving him the pep talk at the end of the original series). Though I did think his personality shift was a bit abrupt...he was at his lowest point at the beginning of Thrice Upon a Time, but the one kind gesture from Rei seemed to immediately snap him out of it. A little more gradual build-up to his change would have been better, but it's a nitpick.

-Mari was an enigma in 2.22 and 3.33, so I was hoping Thrice Upon a Time would give us her origin story. Unfortunately, it didn't offer much and maybe brought up more questions than not. My main question is, we see that she knew Gendo and Yui when they were younger, yet if she was their age then, that doesn't match up to the age she appears to be when Shinji first meets her. So she must have been afflicted with the "Eva curse" all those years back, which means she must have become an Eva pilot around that time, but it seems too soon. I thought the first Evangelion pilots didn't exist until after Yui died, so Mari should have been older...I don't know, I'm still having trouble figuring out her place in the timeline. But besides that, I did like her relationship with Asuka that we see in Thrice Upon a Time. Again, it makes sense in terms of the time-skip that they'd develop a good friendship after spending all those years being Eva pilots together.

-I don't have a lot to say about Rei, since I feel her story arc is one of the simpler ones (which isn't saying much for this series, lol). The scenes of her in Village 3 in Thrice Upon a Time were endearing, though I knew they would end in tragedy. Actually, that whole part of the movie with the characters spending time in the village was great. The world-building in those scenes was fantastic too - it really felt like what a post-apocolyptic survival camp in that situation would be like. It was nice to see the characters partaking in and reacting to situations that don't have to do with Angels and Evas (spin-off series for this when?)

-And lastly, how did I interpret the end of the Rebuild saga? Was I satisfied with how it ended? Right after I watched Thrice Upon a Time, I wasn't totally sure. But after reading some more wiki pages and watching some explanation videos, especially this one here (it's a great explanation if you can forgive the bad pronunciation of the names), I've realized just how brilliant of a conclusion it is. There's been speculation that the story involves a time loop, with the events of the original TV series, as well as the Death & Rebirth and End of Evangelion movies, being different versions of the time loop, while the Rebuild movies is where the loop ends because Shinji finally overcomes the pain of his past and can restore the world this time (while he had failed to in the previous loops). I don't think it's a time loop so much as a cycle that keeps resetting and repeating. Further support for this theory is that Kaoru acts like he's met Shinji before, since he's reborn in each cycle to meet Shinji only to be killed by him later (all the coffins seen on the moon are for his past/future selves). I think the final movie title is symbolic of this too, with "Thrice Upon a Time" meaning "three times upon a time," the three times being the three cycles of the Evangelion story: the original TV series, the movies Death & Rebirth and The End of Evangelion, and finally the Rebirth movies. But mostly, the scene towards the end where Shinji meets Rei in the anti-verse, and they're standing in what appears to be a filming room while projected images from the Eva TV series are shown behind them. This to me symbolizes that the original Eva series exists in the Rebuild movies as one version of the cycle, and Shinji has now finally broken out of the loop. Once Shinji has saved everyone, the filming room (which symbolizes the old versions of the story, as I believe it's supposed to be the room where live-action footage used in previous Eva works was filmed) fades away and the literal animation around Shinji begins to break down into its purest forms, as key animation, then layouts, etc., - a near 4th wall-breaking depiction of the world resetting. However, Gendo and Yui had sacrificed themselves so that Shinji wouldn't have to, so Mari is able to pull him back into the world, just like she had promised. In the end, Shinji is able to join his friends in the new world that's free of Evas. Without the Eva curse, all the pilots are now their proper ages as well. The movie closes with Mari and Shinji heading off somewhere in their new lives while the environment merges into live-action footage, representing the fact that the story has now transcended animation and is now "real" because the cycle has finally ended and a true Neon Genesis took place. Like many aspects of the franchise, there are many ways to interpret this ending, but this is the interpretation I've settled on.

-While I am satisfied with the ending overall, I do wish the epilogue showed us more of what the other characters were doing, especially the survivors from Wille and Village 3. I know we can assume they're living out their lives as well, but it would have been nice to get confirmation of that with a few quick cameos. But there are some main characters whose fates are uncertain, particularly Misato, Kaji, and Fuyutsuki. I'm assuming the only people Shinji was able to save were the ones whose souls were still bound to Evas, namely Asuka, Rei, and Kaoru. I don't know about Kaji since I'm still not clear on exactly how he died. Maybe Shinji couldn't save Misato because she died "for real" and wasn't just trapped inside an Eva/Angel. But it is implied that many souls, not just Eva pilots, were saved when the world was restored...so maybe she was too? And like Kaji, I'm not sure what happened with Fuyutsuki. Did he turn into LCL because he gave up his humanity in some way, like Gendo? I'm also a little salty that we didn't get a decent shot of adult Asuka at the train station, lol. I'm not sure if the ending was hinting at Mari and Shinji being an item...possibly Rei and Kaoru too, maybe even Asuka and Kensuke. Like many things in the franchise, the eventual pairings, or lack thereof, could be interpreted in many ways.

In conclusion, while there were some aspects of the old Eva TV series and movies that I liked better, the Rebuild movies overall did an excellent job of retelling the story with the same rich lore and thought-provoking symbolism that we're used to for the franchise, but with enough new twists to make it stand out. And as I mentioned in my interpretation of the ending, these movies weren't just a retelling but a redefinition of the franchise as whole, bringing together the previous versions of the story and giving them true closure. Though we could see some spin-off material at some point, Thrice Upon a Time does seem like it was intended to be the final installment of the Evangelion series. While I was satisfied enough with the endings for the TV series and End of Eva movie, having watched the Rebuild movies, I do believe they're the "retelling we didn't know we needed." It's a tad bittersweet to know that such an influential franchise, and one of my favorite anime for years, has come to its true end. So, to translate the text in the below fan art...

"Thank you , Evangelion."

*Artwork credited to リオ on pixiv*

[winterscaptain]

day off.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

request from anon: taking hotch and the kids to the beach! 🥺🥺 rating: gen no warnings apply, just teeth-rotting fluff, shirtless aaron, and hotchner babies

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

i got excited, this got long. so it goes. thank you thank you thank you anon for this request!

+++

You stand at the bottom of the stairs, hands on your hips, squinting. Getting out the door on a school day was tough, but getting six Hotchners into a car bound for the beach was a fate worse than death.

“Jack, do you have the towels?” Aaron barrels out of the master bedroom with a tote bag full of snacks, sunscreen, and assorted beach toys. He’d already packed two just like it. 

“Yeah,” comes the reply from upstairs. “but Isaac can’t find his shoes.”

Just then, another wail. “Mom!” 

You sigh, looking at Aaron. 

“They called you, not me,” he says with an almost-smile and a shrug. 

You swat at him. “Prick.” 

His laughter is the underscore as you jog up the stairs, finding Isaac’s shoes right away and tossing them toward his bedroom door. Isolating the shout, you get to the girls’ room. Sophia is tangled in her bathing suit with Caroline fruitlessly tugging on straps here and there. 

“Caroline, can you go help your father pack the car? Do you have your shoes?” You snag a couple of necessary items off the floor – a pair of flip-flops and tiny pink sunglasses. 

Caroline snatches all the items out of your hands and runs down the stairs. 

“Okay baby girl.” You kneel next to Sophia and help her fix her suit. You smoosh a floppy hat and a kiss on her head and send her down the stairs. Two down, two to go. 

You walk back out into the wide hallway, finding your son struggling with his strappy sandals. 

“Do you want some help with those, bud?”

“I got him, mom.” Jack pops out of his room and kneels by his brother, correcting the mismatched straps. 

You lean over to kiss Jack on the head. “Can you make sure he gets to the car okay? I’m gonna check on your dad.” 

Jack huffs a laugh, and it sounds eerily like Aaron’s. “I got this one. Dad could probably use the help.” 

Jack is usually right, and this time is no exception. Aaron leans into the car, one knee on the backseat while he struggles to strap Sophia into her car seat. He’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder and a tote on the other. His sunglasses have long fallen off his head and onto the lawn, along with his flip flops abandoned on the driveway. 

Caroline has planted herself in the small colony of bags near the rear bumper, playing with her sandals.

You approach him, placing gentle hands on his waist. “I got this, love.”

He startles, smacking his head on the doorframe. He curses loudly, and you step back as he rises, a hand on his head. 

He turns to you with a defeated sigh and you hide a smile. “Why did we do this again?”

You smile, grabbing his face and bringing his head down to your level, kissing the sore spot. “It’s your weekend off. You’re supposed to have fun.”

He shakes you off and shoves the hair off his forehead with a dry, “Ah. Yes of course. My day off and my wife decides she wants to go to the beach with our four children.” He undercuts his snark with a kiss almost inappropriate for mixed company.

“Ew!” Sophia shouts from inside the car. 

He pulls away from you with a little smile and caresses your cheek, leaving you to the crucible of the car seat. 

You take his place leaning into the car, tucking Sophia’s arms into the straps. She’s looking at you with her father’s eyes. You take a moment to kiss her little hands and poke at her ribs until she’s laughing.

Another pair of little hands grab on to your bare thigh, and you reach blindly for Caroline. You haul her into your arms and plop her into her car seat. “Hey little bug.” 

She smiles at you. “Hi momma.” 

You drop your voice to a whisper. “How’s dad doing?”

Mulling over an answer, she answers just as quietly. “He’s sweaty and saying a lot of grown-up words.” 

Dropping a kiss to her forehead to hide your smile, you thank her for her intel and finish strapping her in.

+++

By the time you all make it to the water, everyone is a little sweaty and a little hungry. You tackle the tote bags,  and umbrella, while Aaron takes the twins in his arms. You never get tired of watching Aaron juggle the girls, one on each hip, as they got older and bigger. 

Jack runs ahead, straight into the water, and the girls follow once Aaron lets them go. Jack is chronically helpful, keeping an eye on both girls, but especially Sophia Haley “Flight Risk” Hotchner. 

Aaron learned early in your marriage that setting up your beach chair was the first priority upon arrival. As soon as it’s set, you drop yourself into it and grab your book. Isaac takes up residence on the towel at your feet with his coloring book as Aaron continues to adjust, flutter, and assemble to his heart’s content. 

You and your family are blissfully unaware that Derek is currently kicking ass on the beach volleyball court not 100 yards away. Leaning back into the sand nearby, Penelope watches the game while Spencer plays a game of chess on his portable magnetic board. He will beat Emily next time.  

“Spencer.” Penelope removes her sunglasses to get a better look at...is that? 

He doesn’t look up. 

“Spencer!” She smacks him with her glasses and he looks up with a start. 

Penelope gestures wordlessly to the new additions to the beach, and they both study the scene for a moment. 

“Is that?” Spencer asks. 

“I think so.” 

“Call Emily.” 

+++

You aren’t quite sure what makes you look up from your book. Isaac is still coloring at your feet, Aaron and the girls still down at the water, watching Jack shred on his new skimboard. You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. The man will not remove his white crew-neck unless pressed, even at the beach.

Nevertheless, you look around out of habit, pushing your sunglasses onto your head, and spot a cluster of familiar faces by the beach volleyball court. 

“Isaac Spencer Hotchner?” You ruffle your sons thick, dark hair to get his attention. 

He looks up at you with a set of familiar brown eyes. He’d been this focused since birth, coming into the world with an alert awareness. It only made sense to name him after Reid. “Yeah mom?” 

He crawls into your lap, smelling of sunscreen and boy. 

“Look over there for a minute. Does that look like your Uncle Spencer?” 

He follows your gaze and nods, beginning to wiggle in excitement. Spencer’s head snaps up as Isaac’s eyes find him, as if he knew his namesake was looking for him. 

“Don’t you think those people with him look like Auntie JJ, Aunt Penelope, and Aunt Emily? And is that Uncle David?” 

Isaac looks up at you for permission, still squirming, and you help him out of your lap. 

“Go get ‘em, baby. Tell them to stay put until Daddy notices.” He squints at you, confused. “It’ll be funny,” you assure him. 

You watch Isaac sprint as fast as his legs will carry him until he’s all the way into Spencer’s arms. Returning to your book, you settle in for the show. 

Aaron and the girls get tired after a little while and return to the little hideout. You look up, and Aaron leans down to give you a salty kiss.  

“Having fun?”

He cracks open a bottle of water. “Surprisingly, yes.” 

Your smugness must show on your face because Aaron rolls his eyes and shifts his attention to your unruly children. You watch him take count, looking back down to your book to hide your smile. 1, 2, 3....1....2...

“Where’s Isaac?”

“Oh he’s with Spencer,” you say, as if it’s obvious, pretending to read your book. 

Aaron squints exactly the same way Isaac did only minutes prior. “Reid?”

“Not just Spencer!” Emily says, running up and scooping Caroline into her arms. The little girl laughs and your heart swells. You couldn’t ask for a better family. 

Aaron looks straight up into the sky, completely and utterly defeated. You could swear you hear a “What did I do to deserve this,” followed by, “I get two days off. Two.”

“Your ankle strap is showing.” Derek, in mock panic, throws his button down over Aaron, who swats at it immediately with a curse. “There are women and children here, man.”

Finally free of the ridiculously-patterned button down, Aaron instinctively reaches for both his hip and his ankle before realizing he’s not armed. 

He looks at Derek with an exhausted sigh, while Derek’s grin nearly eats up his whole face. 

“Lookin’ good, Pops,” says Rossi, coming up behind Hotch and clapping him hard on the shoulder. 

“You’d think,” Hotch says, raising his hands in defeat as you look on with a smile, “that you’d all be sick and tired of me after a decade and a half.” 

Emily barks a laugh. “Not a chance, stud.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes.

JJ plants herself at your side, enjoying the spectacle as much, if not more, than you. Sophia crawls into her lap, and JJ plants kisses all over her face, covered in sand. 

Jack calls from the water. “Uncle Derek! Skimboard!”

“Oh man, it’s on!” Derek calls back, already running toward Jack, who’s holding the skimboard aloft. Derek turns back, bouncing on his toes. “You game, Hotchner, or are you too old?”

Aaron, with another long-suffering sigh and a kiss to the top of your head, whips his shirt off and sprints past Derek into the water. You take more than a minute to admire his retreating form. God bless America and God bless the FBI.

“Too old,” Rossi grumbles. “I’ll show them too old.” 

He rolls up his pant legs and sleeves and starts to walk leisurely down the beach. 

“What the hell are they doing?” Emily’s shadow interrupts your sunlight, and you push your sunglasses back to the top of your head. 

“Skimboarding, apparently,” JJ offers. Sophia giggles in her arms. 

You look over your shoulder to find Spencer and Isaac a way off, playing chess together. He’s taken care of. 

“Couldn’t they get...really hurt?” Penelope says, sitting in the sand beside JJ. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “It wouldn’t be our first visit to the emergency room.” 

Derek puts forth a good showing, going a fair few feet before landing straight on his ass. Aaron does poorly, as expected, but gets two good runs in before he hits the sand hard, his board shorts riding up as he slides across the sand. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Jack laugh this hard. 

You shrink back as Aaron stands, revealing a wicked sand burn you can see from your chair. “Oof. That’ll bruise tomorrow.” 

Emily puts a hand on your shoulder as the boys attempt to discourage Rossi from engaging with the skimboard. “Oh my god.” 

You all watch, open-mouthed, as Rossi asserts command over the board, still wearing all of his rings, his pants, and his button-down. You’re not sure there’s a drop of water on him, when he finally kicks the board up, landing back on the sand with the board tucked neatly under his arm. 

Aaron’s hands are in his hair as he stands frozen in shock. Jack and Derek go absolutely feral, running up on Rossi and engaging in all manner of manly theatrics. 

Eventually, Aaron comes to his senses and jogs back to base, leaving Derek, Jack, and Dave to their now-heated skimboarding competition. 

“Feeling your age, Agent Hotchner?” Your good natured ribbing draws a laugh from all the girls (even the little ones). 

“You,” he says, falling onto the towel at your feet, “are lucky I love you because you are pushing it today.”

“I love you too.”

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-8th Place

It’s funny. Four years ago, there was no doubt in my mind that this show would easily make the top five best-animated series in the last decade. But the more it went on, the more...controversial it got. However, despite all the hate this next series has been getting recently, I still believe that there’s something to be desired within it.

#8-Steven Universe/Steven Universe: Future (2013-2020)

The Plot: For years, immortal warriors known as the Crystal Gems have been defending the Earth from anything that seeks to do it harm. Until one day when Rose Quartz, the Gems leader, had fallen in love with a human named Greg Universe. From that love, Rose gave up her physical form to bring her son, Steven, into the world she was sworn to protect. Taking guidance from the other Crystal Gems-Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl-Steven will try his best to grow up into the same warrior that his mom was. But as he learns more about the Gems and his mother, Steven will soon realize that he’ll have to grow up far faster than he thought.

Right out the gate, I should mention there's a 60%-40% chance that you’re either going to love this show or think that it’s pure garbage. And honestly, I believe it all depends on perspective. Like the quality of most shows, the enjoyment depends on the viewpoints you chose to take with it. Some people will look at specific decisions as well done, where others will see it all as a mess of storytelling. For instance, one person can make a two-hour-long video about how Steven Universe is garbage, and another person can make a video arguing about how it isn’t. Everyone has different reasons why they like or hate something. If you genuinely hate Steven Universe or think you might not like it, that's perfectly fine. I just hope you’ll give me the chance to explain why I personally enjoy it, and why I think it deserves all the adulation it has. 

For instance, the main thing I really enjoy about Steven Universe is its style. From the designs, to the animation, to even the music. Everything about how Steven Universe both looks and sounds leave me awestruck. First is the show’s designs of both the backgrounds and characters. Nearly every part of the world in the series looks absolutely amazing, fitting seeing how the Crystal Gems fought for Earth due to its beauty. There are also times when lore and backstory can be seen through the backgrounds, giving some fantastic utilization of visual storytelling. Such as when the Crystal Gems visit war zones and temples that they’ve spent years fighting in, showing hidden secrets that can make much more sense by later episodes. As for the character designs, they all look pretty good. Each character has a dynamic and unique style, making them all fun to look at. It’s even better when the character’s personalities are shown throughout their entire designs. I especially love how the artists managed to get creative with how real life crystals (lapices, bismuths, and jaspers) will look like people when designing the Crystal Gems and their enemies. However, I should first mention that Steven Universe is another show where the art style depends on who’s storyboarding the scene. While not as bad as OK KO: Let’s Be Heroes, it can be pretty distracting given how character sizes and proportions are inconsistent. Regardless, I still like how good the designs look for a majority of the characters. And at a practical standpoint, I think it’s great that the artists kept the figures as simple as possible as it makes animating the characters a lot easier.

Speaking of which, I really like how Steven Universe is animated. It’s not entirely groundbreaking like The Amazing World of Gumball’s or as fluid as Wander Over Yonder’s, but the animation in Steven Universe is still pretty dang good. The characters' movements look believable, and the expressions each one makes is downright amazing to see. It gets more aspiring for the show’s fight scenes. You can almost feel each punch, jab, and slash that the characters trade with each other, and the fights themselves are pretty fun to watch. As for the action itself, Steven Universe might just have the most creative action set pieces I’ve seen from any animated series. Case in point, there is an entire fight scene that’s also a fantastic song at the same time.

On the topic of songs, let the record show that showrunner Rebecca Sugar really understands music. I say this because Steven Universe has some really great music in it. From background music to full-on musical numbers, this show proves how important melodies are in a series. Look at the background music, as it not only does a suitable job at making audiences feel the right emotions but also sounds really good when isolated. As for the character motifs, each note perfectly encapsulates the character's personality that it’s meant for. Like Pearl, who has a piano melody to show off her classy and orderly personality, and Peridot, who has a more 8-bit tune to her leitmotif as a way to show off her tech side. And since we branched into talking about 8-bit, there are times when this show’s soundtrack sounds like it belongs in a really cool video game (Google Lion’s and Obsidian's themes if you don’t believe me). As for the actual songs in the show, Steven Universe has a pretty good selection. As they can be beautiful and downright awesome to listen to. And even though the show uses songs to develop the characters and story, these musical numbers can still be pretty fun to listen to on their own, with no context (most of the time).

But while a show's style is essential, it’s the substance that truly matters. And here is where we go back to the discussion of perspective. To some viewers, you might think that the substance in Steven Universe is handled well, where others...Well, I think it’s pretty obvious how they might feel.

Let’s look at the story because Steven Universe actually has an intriguing and compelling story...Or at least it does when it tries to eventually tell that story. Whether you’re a person who either loves or hates the series, everyone can agree that the slice of life episodes are easily the show’s weakest. Personally, I don’t mind them, and that’s because I view these episodes as giving me a choice between eating a chocolate cake or a carrot. The story-driven episodes are a chocolate cake. Their sweet, delicious, and I’m always craving more after just having one piece. As for the slice of life episodes, they’re like carrots. I can eat a carrot. I can digest a carrot. I might even enjoy a carrot. Hell, there are times when I’m willing to ask for another carrot. But if you’re going to give me the decision of a carrot over a chocolate cake, then I’m always going to pick the chocolate cake. Even if I enjoy episodes like “Laser Light Cannon," “Too Short to Ride," and “Alone Together," they can never hold a candle to “Jail Break," “Reunited," and “Change Your Mind." This is because the slice of life episodes give off a sense of distraction from the main story. After all, they rarely add anything new (read: meaningful) to the tale. And going back to the carrot and chocolate cake analogy, there’s one aspect that doesn’t do the slice of life episodes any favors. You see, where most shows feel like you have to eat the carrots before having the chocolate cake, half the time Steven Universe feels like you can skip most of the carrots and go straight for the chocolate cake instead. And Steven Universe isn’t the only show to try this. In fact, tomorrow I’ll be talking about a show that perfected this idea. But tomorrow's series manages to make both the story and slice of life episode the chocolate cake instead of the carrot. And it has everything to do with the fact that the characters care about the situation they’re in. There are actual moments in the show where Crystal Gems refuse to participate in everyday antics because they simply don’t think those antics are worth their time. Which is something you never want to do. Because if the characters don’t care, then why should the audience? Speaking of the characters--

I want it to be known that I like the majority of the characters in Steven Universe. Greg, Connie, Peridot, Amethyst, and Garnet are all enjoyable to watch in their own way. Not only is their development on point, but their personalities are all likable, and their issues are also relatable. It’s three other characters that things get a little iffy. Those characters being Steven, Pearl, Bismuth and Lapis. If you ask me, I like these characters, and I think it’s fun to study/analyze their personalities. However, these characters make decisions that audiences are either going to hate or love. It’s sort of like that optical illusion of the old lady/young lady (Google it). Some people can see the ugly old hag, where others will see the beautiful young woman. You’re most likely going to see one or the other, and it isn’t until someone else points out what you couldn’t notice that you are capable of seeing both. It’s something very similar to Steven, Pearl, Bismuth and Lapis. One response is that you’re either going to see characters who are selfless heroes that are victims of circumstance. The other is seeing toxic idiots who cause more harm than good to the people they love.

And then there are the people of Beach City. These are mostly hated by both fans and critics of the show. Personally, I don’t hate most of them. Don’t get me wrong, characters like Lars and Ronaldo deserve every ounce of hate they are given (Although Lars does get better). As for the rest of the Beach Citizens, I don’t think they are that bad of characters. In fact, I think they’re good characters placed in the wrong show. Some of them have issues that most people deal with (Sadie, in most of her episodes), where others seem to be slightly layered and almost intriguing (Mr. Smiley and Onion in “Future Boy Zoltron” and “Onion Gang”). In fact, if these characters were a part of a different series, I’m sure people will be more willing to watch their struggles. It's just compared to the Crystal Gems and company, the people of Beach City are not as interesting to watch or dissect. And because of this, the show drags down to a screeching halt whenever it focuses on these characters.

And the most controversial element of these characters is (semi-spoilers ahead) when the show tries to pull off redemption arcs. Steven Universe seems to work off the logic that nobody is evil, just misunderstood. There’s both a right way and a wrong way of illustrating that logic, and Steven Universe, unfortunately, does it the wrong way. And the best way for me to describe how to do this idea is to use the game Undertale as an example (I’d warn you about spoilers, but odds are you already know everything about that game). In Undertale, you play a character who fell into an underground prison full of monsters, and you have to find your way back to the surface. The monsters you run into give the impression that they’re dangerous and want to destroy you (or at least most of them do). However, the game allows the player to interact with the world and characters around them, soon discovering that the monsters are more complex than one might think. In fact, the game allows you to actually interact with monsters who tried to kill you, showing the logic and reasoning as to why. By the end of Undertale, you learn that every character you encounter is not the villains in the story, but rather victims of a war that forced them away from the surface. Steven Universe has a similar idea but fails to do it properly. All it reveals is that the villains have done bad things, realize that they’ve done wrong, and decide to have an out of nowhere change of heart by the end. The problem is that except for one character, the turnarounds don’t feel earned. Instead, they feel forced than anything else.

These elements are what make Steven Universe slightly controversial to enjoy.

(And also the ridiculous amount of hiatuses. But that’s not really an issue I have with the show, but the network running it.)

But if there is one thing I hope we all can agree on, both the pessimistic and forgiving, I think it’s safe to say that the best thing about Steven Universe is how important it is for the LGBTQ+ community. There may have been kids' shows in the past that hinted at same-sex relationships and they deserve some respect as well. But I'd say it’s Steven Universe that popularized the idea with the characters Ruby and Saphire. Not only are these two downright adorable together, but they also manage to be enjoyable characters on their own (Even though it isn’t often you see them apart, but their personalities still shine through). And I’m willing to make the argument that it’s because of these two why children’s animation is less afraid, but still cautious, of being explicit with having same-sex couples. Like I said, most shows decide to hint at these relationships, so they don't get in trouble for doing so. Nowadays? Most of Cartoon Network’s series seem to have more gay relationships than most children’s networks in recent memory. Nickelodeon allowed The Loud House to have gay parents in a children's cartoon, and one of the main characters being canonically bisexual. Hell, even Disney is currently taking steps in the right direction with their smash hit called The Owl House. Now, more than ever, kids can learn at an early age that gay relationships are more than just acceptable, but they’re also completely normal and should be accepted as such. And I’m more than willing to give Steven Universe credit for giving this trend the push that it needed, like other creators for these shows usually point fingers at it as well.

Is Steven Universe a perfect show? No. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s garbage. There are some legitimate faults that this series has, some of which I’m inclined to agree with. But with all the good it does and how much fun people have while watching it, I can’t really say I hate this series. If you think you’ll hate this show, you have every right to. I can’t change how you feel, but I can ask you to keep an open mind. Because who knows? You might be someone who will find the diamond in the rough of this series.

(Now that’s a pun you’ll be willing to appreciate by the time you reach season 5).

[thenightling]

Morpheus in a Masquerade (A Sandman / Lucifer fan fiction)

I finally wrote something for the Lucifer / Morpheus shippers.  This is a little saccharine. I hope you like it.  Though it’s not comic book accurate I borrowed the layout of Lux from the Lucifer TV series because it was just convenient for the story.   Again, this could get a little sappy.

I was in a rush when I wrote this. I’ll make corrections later.   

__________________________

  Morpheus in a Masquerade

  “I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.”

           In his darkest and strangest hours, when Morpheus had thoughts he scarcely would admit to himself he wondered that perhaps Loki, Lucifer, and all the other iconoclasts of the various pantheons were right in their rebellion.  They wanted to leave and so they did.  There was no dramatic final exit.  They didn’t dread abandoning responsibilities as he did.  If only he had the bravery or selfishness and carelessness to do as they had done…but these thoughts were along the lines of words he would never dare utter, not even to himself.  He was dead now, right?   What did it matter?   He had escaped his role in the most absolute fashion possible…

           Morpheus walked along the beach of Hob’s dream in the perpetual eventide.   This was, for him, his Heaven, his sanctuary.  And almost every night he would walk and speak with his friend who always steadfastly refused Death’s gift.  How he admire’s Hob’s fortitude.   And how he, himself, liked it here.  He was at peace here.  Eternally residing in the dream of a friend wasn’t the worst way one could spend an existence after being an Endless.  And yet sometimes he felt certain old aches, like a mortal who had lost a leg and missed it terribly.          

           Lux was open all night.  It often was open all evening.  The owner stood at the very top of the stairs.  His hands rested in his pockets as he watched the dancers below. His blond hair kind of looked careless but it was the sort of careless that takes a stylist over two hours to impressively perfect.  Lucifer knew how to be stylish in all things.

           He smiled with pleasure at the Venetian style masquerade around him, the particular party he had orchestrated. Everyone wore a mask save for himself.

           It was good to keep a sharp eye on his guests. Even here in this mortal world. One never knows what might happen on a night like this.  He had been retired decades ago and it had been a considerably long time since anyone had tried to talk him into going back… Most of the gusts seemed to be enjoying themselves and the thob of the music was inviting and invigorating.  It was New Year’s Eve and the masquerade was well underway when the doors flew open and the elegant, dapper, figure, dressed in crimson red, entered the room. The being was androgynous and all-together beautiful.  This entity had dark hair and pale skin.  They were tall by mortal standards and elegant.  Lucifer recognized this gorgeous creature as Desire of The Endless.  Desire was wearing expensive-looking, dark, sunglasses that Lucifer could only imagine were hiding golden-yellow eyes.  

           Lucifer walked up to Desire and offered his hand as if he was the prince in a fairy tall ball meeting with Cinderella.  “What a pleasure seeing you here.”  He said with a charming smile.

           “Were you expecting me?” the Endless purred.

           “No.  But that doesn’t make it any less the pleasure.”

           “Charming as ever, Morningstar.”  Desire smiled a dazzling, perfect, toothy smile.

           A slow dance had started and they were both moving gracefully in what almost resembled an old fashioned minuet. The movements of Desire were strangely awkward at first as if they hadn’t danced in a very long time.  And then finally the eternally graceful endless seemed to capture the rhythm of the music in the sway of their hips and the elegant, cat-like, steps.       Lucifer enjoyed his companion so much that he did not seem to care or notice that their own dance was archaic when compared to the modern dancing around them.        

           “Do you ever miss him?”  Lucifer asked Desire with some seriousness that could be mistaken as taunting or even accusing.

           “That is an odd question.”  Desire said with a hint of contempt as if Lucifer’s inquiry had the potential to spoil their fun.

            Lucifer shrugged.  “Sometimes I do.”

           “Do you?”

           “Yes.”

           “But he clipped your wings!”

           “Only because I asked him to!  I liked his honesty.  I have always appreciated honesty.”

            Desire was frowning now.

             Lucifer continued.  “When he lied it was usually to himself but he tried to be truthful and I liked that. Sometimes it was brutal and sometimes…”

           “Sometimes what?” Desire suddenly seemed curious as if the conversation was just now becoming interesting to Desire.

           Lucifer spun his partner and dipped Desire. “Sometimes it was endearing.” He said, leaning close, as if to kiss Desire but stopping just shy of it. “When I asked him what I was like, do you know what he told me?”

           “How should I know that?”

           “Hmm… Yes.   He told me, ‘You were very proud, Samael.  But you were also very beautiful, and wise-- and passionate.”  

           “My brother said that to you?”

           “He did.  You know it’s funny.  As soon as I asked if you missed him, you knew exactly who I was talking about.  I think you do miss him…”

           “Perhaps.”

           “Do you regret it?” Lucifer and Desire were turning in circles on the floor and it seemed like everyone else has vanished around them.

           “Regret what?”

           “You know.”

           “You think I killed him?”  Somehow Desire sounded both offended and amused all at once as only Desire seemed likely to be able to sound.  This impressed Lucifer.

           “You know the answer to that.”

           The dance was over.   Lucifer raised Desire’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of Desire’s knuckles.   Desire cast two shadows.  One dark edged and sharp, the other dim and forever wavering.   And the scent was of summer peaches.  An excellent touch.

             “Are you all right, Morningstar, you seem distracted…”

           “Come up to my room,”  Lucifer invited.   “This whole scene is a little too public.”

           “I’m not sure I-“

           Lucifer smirked.  Now he was certain of his growing suspicion.  “Oh! What’s this?  Is Desire of The Endless suddenly shy?”

           “You offend me, Morningstar.   Never!”

           “Good.  Then come.”

           Lucifer took Desire’s hand and guided them up the stairs to his own private rooms.  Once there Lucifer shut the door and went to his private bar to prepare them each a drink.   “Do you remember the story…  The reason he would never dance…  Not even for his wife.”

           “Yes, I remember.”

           “Was that your doing?”  Lucifer asked.

           Desire smirked behind the designer sunglasses and took the offered wine glass.  “So what if it was?”

           “You humiliated him, didn’t you?  All those years I could never talk him into a dance, not once.  Not in Hell, not in The Dreaming…  And especially not on Earth.  But you danced with me.”

            “I am not Dream of The Endless.”

            “No.” Lucifer raised his glass as if toasting this fact.  “No, you’re not.   And I appreciate that in your effort to deceive me you never actually lied this entire evening.“

            “What makes you think I’m deceiving you?”

            “Do you ever miss him?”

            “You already asked me this…”

           “Hmm?  Oh, yes. I suppose I did.  Let me rephrase that.  Do you miss… being him?”

                Before his guest could protest Lucifer pulled off the designer spectacles. Just as he suspected they were not hiding golden-yellow cat-like eyes at all.  They were black as night with two pinpoint stars for pupils.  Beautiful and familiar.  Though Lucifer masked it well his heart nearly skipped a beat with delight and his theory being proven correct.  The rest of the illusion faded from the red garments and groomed hair to the scent of summer preaches.              Now the entity was taller and more distinctly male and no longer so androgynous as Desire of The Endless usually was. Taller and thinner.  The hands were still pale and delicate though.   Those were still feminine, the hands of an artisan.  The hands of a sculptor.  Lucifer had always liked Morpheus’ hands.              “Hello Morpheus.”             Morpheus said nothing at first, feeling like Rumpelstiltskin being found out in the faery tale.

         Lucifer set down his drink and the sunglasses.   Morpheus carefully put down his own glass of white wine.  He should have noticed that the drink Lucifer had prepared for them was his own favorite white wine though he also sometimes liked dark mead even if that was hard to find now.  

           Lucifer stepped to former Dream Lord.  “How does it feel to just be a dream, Dream?”            “I am not Dream of The Endless anymore.”            “No, but you are still you, Morpheus.  And you-“ he pointed an accusing finger, “once said you would never dance, not even for your wife. “            “I did not dance.   Desire danced with you.”            “Oh, please.  You were in Desire’s form.  It counts.“            “It does not count.”            “It counts.”            Morpheus was scowling.  Lucifer was enjoying this.  

             “Why did you come to me?” Lucifer asked.  “Why now?”

           “I- I wanted to tell you… you were right… “            “I was?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

           “I understand now why you quit.  I suppose I always understood.  I didn’t want to understand it… I had responsibilities.”  

           “And ever the drama queen, you had to do things the hard way.”            “You mock me.  I couldn’t leave my domain to ruin.   It needed a ruler.”            “Yes, yes, that’s all well and good.   So what now?”            “I am…  mostly satisfied with my new arrangement.  But I wanted to see you.  I wanted to say…”            “Dream…  Morpheus…” Lucifer put a finger to Morpheus’ lip as he knew Morpheus had done to many in the past.  “Shut up.   Shut up and dance with me.”              “I told you once, I don’t dance.  Not even for my wife.”            “You don’t dance…”  Lucifer reached into his own blazer and took from a pocket a carefully folded black domino mask of soft gauzy material and lace design.  “Then don’t be you anymore.”  He reached behind Morpheus’ head, working the mask over his tangled, thick, dark hair.              “Just like that?”            “Just like that. You’re dead.  You can be anyone you want.   It’s not my fault you chose to be a prudish ass of a dream.”            

           With the grace of a panther Lucifer reached with one hand for his mobile phone, a device Morpheus still seemed to find puzzling.  Lucifer pressed something and music started to play in the room.   And once again Lucifer lead his partner into a Waltz.

              The song that played was Sweet Morpheus by Inkubus Sukkubus. “Falling downward, your face I see. Falling downward, you can see me. In this madness I reach out for your hand Two souls in union, spiralling to the ground”

             And The ex-Devil, and the dead Dream danced together where no one else could see them.  And there was a silent and secret understanding between them as deep and as profound as love and maybe it was love.  Who knows with creatures such as these?  Maybe it was love. “I've touched your beauty, tasted your poison brew. You've held me closer than any man could do. Now, come, sweet Morpheus, there's lands we've yet to see. Unfold your comforting arms, and we'll fall endlessly.”

             Hob couldn’t remember what he dreamt that night.  He just knew it wasn’t his usual dream of wandering the early evening coastline with his friend.  But the next night a blond, posh, pianist joined them and he was humming a song Hob had only heard maybe once before.  And he knew the song would be stuck in his head that day. “How I love you, Morpheus, my soul has ached for you. You gave me comfort while life was so cruel. Your time is precious, I'll waste not what you share. Let's fall again now, as far as we would dare.”

[mykingdomforapen]

Decade of Fics 2010-2019

Hello! Since it is nearly 2020 and I am OLD, a look back on the fanfictions (and occasional non-fanfictions) I wrote in this decade, and some snippets of hints of scenes that come to my mind first when I think of that year of writing. In some ways, I would say these would be snippets or moments of writing that I feel most attached to. 

2010: One Step to Amity (Axis Powers Hetalia)

Alfred nodded wordlessly. She said nothing as she turned away from him and walked slowly down the river. She bent down after she put some distance between her and him. Alfred suddenly felt an urge inside of him to reach out to her.

"Vietnam—"" he started to say.

"Look, America," she suddenly spoke up. She was holding something pale in her hands. He frowned slightly before walking up to her and bending down next to her. Vietnam held up a mauve lotus to his eyes. It was so delicate that Alfred thought it would positively crumble if he merely exhaled at it. The petals were so fragile that it seemed that God had crafted it by merely painting with a thin brush in midair.

"During the war, most of these died," she said quietly. "From all the chemicals and the fires. I thought they would never grow back again. I thought all of that was just too much."

She offered the lotus to Alfred. He hesitated; what if it died in his hands? In the end, he finally let her gently place the flower in his palm. He could barely feel its weight, but the petals were smooth and wet on his skin. She lifted her eyes to his.

"But they did grow again," she said. "Even after all that, they still bloom. They always do in the end."

2011: Seven Pieces of Chalk (Axis Powers Hetalia)

“If I hadn’t missed your call and answered the phone, what would you have said to me?” Arthur demanded. “Would you have just hung up?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t call me just because you felt like it. You should be asleep now, of all things. Why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Something’s bothering you, right? Can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

Arthur quieted. Gilbert wouldn’t look at Arthur, hiding his face in the shadows. The moonlight reached only half of the room where Arthur sat, leaving Gilbert obscured in the darkness. Arthur sat still for a moment before reaching toward Gilbert’s cell phone, which was lying underneath his swivel chair.

“Hey.”

When Gilbert looked toward Arthur, Arthur tossed his phone to him. Gilbert quickly caught it, slightly confused. Arthur pulled out his own cell phone.

“Call me,” Arthur said sternly. Gilbert gave him a perplexed look. “Let’s get back to the start, about forty-five minutes. Call me, and we’ll pretend that I picked up my phone first.”

Gilbert almost declined. He would have too, if it was any other person—any other night than this one—but to both his surprise and Arthur’s, he flipped open the phone and pressed the dial button. As Arthur’s ringtone blared, Gilbert retreated deeper into the shadows. Arthur hesitated before picking up the phone.

“Hello?” Arthur said. Gilbert fixed his gaze on the carpet.

“Arthur?” Gilbert said.

2012:  Syrgja (Avengers/MCU)

And when no one spoke, when Natasha could think of Loki and Loki only, she remembered that all of their minds were connected alongside their lives. She heard each of their thoughts as they hoped, as they waited and prayed for Loki’s return.

Brother, come back to us, please—

Loki, you can do it, I know you can, just keep breathing—

Loki, you bastard, don’t give up on us now—

Keep fighting, Loki, just keep fighting and help will come—

Come on, Bambi, you’re stronger than this, you can do it—

She did not hesitate in thinking this—she did not care if the others heard, so long as Loki did. So long as Loki knew without a doubt.

I love you, Loki.

2013: spring will come (Thor/MCU)

“So I guess,” said Thor, “that scars heal in time, too. It’s kind of sad and beautiful, that no matter what life goes on.”

Jane reached over and put her hand on his. She felt every callous, every vein. She grazed her thumb over the knuckles.

“Are you cold?” said Thor. “Let’s have coffee.” 

2014: Jacob and Esau say their goodbyes (Thor/MCU)

"I said that I have no side," Loki says. "And yet I always find myself by Thor's."

2015: Though she may forget (Thor/MCU)

“You sat on Asgardian gold all your life,” Byleistr says, “where all the realms and races throw themselves at your feet because you are of AEsir family, your throne of riches and fortune, of safety and security, of approval and want—you never knew what it meant to be a Jotun, to fear for your life when someone of another realm comes across you, even when you are at in your own homeland, fearing they might cut you down for sport. You don’t know what it means when none of the realms will even look at you, because to them you are foul and savage and monstrous, and we can’t pull on costumes and masks like you can to pretend, for a moment at the very least, that we can walk out of our realm and not be killed.”

Byleistr wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Loki cannot bring himself to look at Byleistr in the eyes. He cannot bring himself to move much at all. Byleistr’s words have the same effect as the snow, the cold that Loki never admitted that he was unbothered by—numbing.

“You think you wish you were never born a Jotun,” Byleistr says. If an Asgardian’s eyes are red, it means they shall fill soon with tears. Loki realizes that with Jotun, when tears threaten to fall, they have a tinge of violet, as if even colors grow cold inside them. “You’ve never been Jotun in your life.”

2016: Better Than Seven Sons (Original Fiction)

I grabbed a fistful of his hair, right in the middle. Angus closed his eyes, and no one else really seemed to grasp that this was far more significant than an impulsive a-shave-a-quid moment but us two. I wanted to back out, suddenly—sorry, Angus, can’t do it, can’t bring myself to do it. I love your hair, Angus, I love recognising it, I love it because now it’s a symbol of pre-tumour, pre-surgery, pre-illness and from here on out we would be thrown into the uncertainty that comes with losing it and cutting open your skull. But you saw this differently, not a symbolic goodbye, but having the last laugh, and I needed to forget my own point of view.

“Count me down,” I said.

“Really now?” said Angus.

“Five!” I said.

“Four!” Others joined me. I thought someone would shake up a bottle of champagne for this, let out some firecrackers.

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

2017: a land flowing with milk and honey (Thor/MCU)

“You know who that is,” says Heimdall. “Even if he decides not to kill us all, enslaving us will be the kindest gesture.”

“Well,” says Loki. “That’s surviving, isn’t it?”

The ship jerks violently, and Heimdall and Loki stumble, clutching at the dashboard to keep on their feet. Loki turns sharply to Heimdall, who does not trust him, who has absolutely no reason to. He has just watched Loki shove Thor into a pod and sent him shuttling to Norns only know where, but he cannot read Loki’s mind or intentions.

“Don’t you trust Thor?” says Loki. In spite of everything, he smiles. “I do.”

2018: Lovable (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

“Do you really hate me, Azula?” Zuko said.

That sentence already made his stomach turn, and he could feel a lump form in his throat that threatened to choke him if he did not scream it out. He had to gather himself first before he could continue, although his breath still shook.

“For almost our entire lives,” said Zuko. “Even if you were just following Father’s example. Why did you still hurt me when he wasn’t watching?”

He clenched his teeth, because he was beginning to raise his voice already. Just remembering it and saying all of this out loud was like stabbing himself repeatedly in the gut. Azula did not react to any of it. And it was painful for Zuko to admit it to himself. He had thought maybe one day, they would talk about their past and their present. And for the first time he would finally tell her how unsafe he felt around her. And when he finally told the truth, that she would care. Maybe she would feel sad, or guilty, or even apologize to him, and then he could look at her without immediately getting upset for the first time.

But this was not what he came here for.

Zuko approached the bars and reached a hand through them. The bars caught him at his elbow, and his fingertips could only skim the ends of Azula’s hair strewn over the stone. He did not want to ask all of this from Azula anymore; whatever groveling, repentance, devastation and shame that he may have fantasized before. He did not want to wait for any of these, nor let it stop him from what shall come next.

“I love you, Azula,” Zuko said. “If I go, would you believe me?”

2019: Find me after the victory (Dunkirk/Arguably can be historical fiction)

So they sat on the floor of Peter’s bedroom, cups of tea in hand and a longing to be human as destroyers lined the beaches of England, ready to be boarded. They talked until the pot of tea cooled between them, about Peter’s school getting destroyed by the bombs, about Tommy’s sisters whom he missed, about Alex’s old London haunts that no one knew if they were still standing, about a home whose soil they walked on but was still miles and miles away.

“You’re all going back very soon, aren’t you?” Peter said after a brief pause, when they took a moment to collect their breaths. “Back to the mainland to fight.”

Tommy said nothing, but his gaze flickered towards Alex. Peter pressed his lips together, with a heaviness in his heart that he could not name. He suddenly remembered the last day of his brother’s last furlough, and how in hindsight he would comb over every detail of his brother’s day, the way he helped Dad with the ropes of the Moonstone and how Mum straightened his tie, and how he punched Peter lightly on the shoulder and told him to take care of Mum and Dad, and that Peter was free to borrow his books and football so long as he did not mess anything up in his room. They would have a football rematch when he returned, his brother promised.

Peter wished he could remember every quiet moment, seen and unseen, of his brother, if only he had known at the time that it would be the last. But to know God’s timing was too much for humans to bear, as Peter looked Tommy and Alex in the eye and be forced to accept that these boys with whom he reunited after four years might leave tomorrow and die.

“Don’t worry, Dawson,” Alex said. “We won’t let you down this time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Peter said, and he did not know what else to say.

When the clock in the living room chimed, Alex and Tommy exchanged a heavy, knowing glance. Peter already knew before Tommy said that they ought to get going. They were not going to come round again tomorrow, and probably not for a very long time.

Peter felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to be a hundred meters tall, to sweep Tommy and Alex and all the other young soldiers that Peter knew and did not know into his arms and shield them from oncoming bombs and bullets. He wanted to die for each and every one of them, to protect them from further pain and devastation and keep them safe, but he was just a young man and that would be impossible. And if Peter remembered what Reverend James taught him, it was that someone else felt the same way already, and did just that.

[geneticandunattainable]

We’ve finally come to the top ten songs of 2017, and it’s been quite a ride.  My apologies for the delay in getting these published, but I remain convinced these next ten songs are well worth the wait.  Surprising no one, women dominate the top of this year’s list, with seven of the top ten songs featuring or led by female artists.  A surprise to many, including myself, is that four of the ten songs also come from artists with ties to North Carolina.  It would not have been possible for me to survive 2017 without these songs, and I’ve listened to all of them hundreds of times. You may have different reactions to this batch, but I have a hunch you’re going to be blown away.

10. Now, Now – “SGL” Minnesota is underrated as an incubator for music, but Now, Now is an exciting duo coming out of Minneapolis.  Cacie Dalager handles the vocals, guitar, and keyboard, while Bradley Hale focuses on the drums and backing vocals, but this is just the latest iteration of a band that’s been around for fifteen years.  Dalager and Hale famously met as classmates in high school marching band, but the sound on this record is light years beyond the work of teenagers.  They hadn’t released any new material in five years before last May, so music blogs were excited to have this slice of musical brilliance come out of nowhere.  “SGL” was a burst of fresh air right in time for summer last year, and it’s pop music at its absolute purest.  This is the kind of music that gets your heart pumping, music that’s meant for summers at the lake or bonfires on the beach.  The acronym from the title refers to “Shotgun Lover,” and has nothing do with marriage or firearms; Dalager is looking to put some heat on a relationship that started off as a simple fling.  Many of the elements on display here likely come across as familiar, like the clipped acoustic guitar progression, the slowly-building layers of atmospheric effects, and the subtle vocal manipulations. But when the drums kick in and she hits the chorus, you can’t help but find yourself swept along for the ride - perhaps sitting shotgun?  

9. K. Flay – “Blood in the Cut” Talk about the unlikeliest path to music - rapper/artist K. Flay started life as Kristine Meredith Flaherty in Wilmette, Illinois, a wealthy commuter suburb of Chicago before heading off to Stanford for undergrad.  While she was there, Flaherty cracked a joke to a classmate about how the hip hop songs she heard on the radio were all "simplistic, misogynistic and formulaic,” and that she could easily write similar songs without any issue.  Once she got on stage, she realized that she really enjoyed performing, and started shifting toward a full-time focus on music.  She’s been releasing music for years, but my favorite track by far has to be “Blood in the Cut” from last year’s Every Where Is Some Where.  Featured prominently during the end titles of a season four Bojack Horseman episode, the menacing lyrics practically growl at the audience, and there’s an incredibly cinematic tone to the entire song.  This track doesn’t sound it was crafted for television, but there’s a drama inherent in Flay’s lyrics - “Say a word, do it soon/It’s too quiet in this room” - show the boiling tension inherent in her vocals.  Every chorus is such a release, but she builds that tension to a raucous ending that captures you, heart and soul.  This is an angst anthem, a textbook entry for your workout playlist, and one of the best damn songs in years.

8. Sylvan Esso – “Die Young” When you grow up in North Carolina, you have a special place in your heart for artists from the home of Cook Out and Cheerwine.  This duo from Durham consists of Amelia Meath and Nick Sanborn, and they took over my phone, my car, and my brain this year with “Die Young,” an epically lush tribute to unexpected love.  As Meath coos in the lyrics, she had “it all planned/You ruined it completely;”  you see, she was going to die young in a blaze of glory so people would remember her forever.  Now that she’s fallen in love, her next chapter has been replaced and she wants more time with her partner rather than become a member of the 27 Club.  Make no mistake, Meath has written a love song, but there’s a funereal quality to the proceedings that syncs up flawlessly with the detached, synth-heavy production from Sanbord.  The looped samples work so well with the moody keyboards over the chorus, and you know I’m a sucker for a song that builds to a truly cathartic bridge.  At no point does “Die Young” disappoint; it’s the kind of instant classic that feels familiar the first time you hear it.  If Kesha hadn’t placed higher on my list, I’d make a snide comment about her own song “Die Young” being left in the dust.  If you’ve known me long enough, you know the thought remains regardless.  Ten years from now, we’ll still be listening to this haunting Southern banger.

7. Sampha – “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano” If you’re going to make a long-awaited debut, you might as well lead with a hauntingly gorgeous song like this. London-based musician Sampha built his career for years behind the scenes as a producer, songwriter, and backing vocalist for artists like Kanye and Jessie Ware.  As he shifted toward fronting his own music, he sat down to craft an ode to the power of music itself, and knocked it out of the goddamn park.  There’s an entire narrative at work here, as Sampha spills his heart out about using music - and his mother’s piano specifically - to navigate through tough times.  As the song progresses, beyond the austere keys and euphonious vocals, a low key beat emerges, and he shifts into subtle electronic tinges, eventually closing out the song with the sounds of birds chirping in the forest.  Clearly he’s using the song to step into the spotlight, so to speak, but I think it’s more than that; this song brings peace, serenity, and a calming nature unlike anything I’m used to hearing.  What an amazing accomplishment.

6. Kesha – “Praying” I’m not exactly one to drop names, but I was living in Nashville around the same time as Kesha, as she grew up in the suburbs of Music City.  I’d heard some not so pleasant rumors about her behavior and the way she treated other people in the local scene, so when her debut single “Tik Tok” took over the world, I made a decision to sit her career out. I simply couldn’t understand why such a strong and intelligent woman - she was accepted to Barnard, people - was singing about getting black out at a club with the truly misogynist 3OH!3.  My heart went out to her when she sued Dr. Luke, though, and I quickly became riveted with the story.  As a fellow survivor of sexual assault, I found myself rooting for Kesha and eagerly anticipating new music.  While her latest album Rainbow was scattered, it could brag some absolute jams with “Woman” and “Learn to Let Go.”  That said, few songs in 2017 had the emotional impact for me of “Praying.”  This Grammy-nominated lesson in forgiveness is blistering, still bringing me to tears after hundreds of listens.  Kesha knows how to write her own songs, and it’s a thoroughly documented fact she’s been doing it for other artists for more than a decade.  That killer lyrical mind is on display here, too, but the background leading up to the song and the vulnerability on display here is nearly too much to handle.  I’ve heard mixed reviews of that whistle note, but you’re a total robot if you don’t respond when those drums kick in about two thirds of the way through “Praying.”  2017 was a year we’re all desperate to forget, but I’ll leave you with this: consider listening to “Praying” again, but imagine it’s Hillary Rodham Clinton delivering those lyrics instead.  I dare you not to weep.

5. Rhiannon Giddens – “At the Purchaser’s Option” Who knew that a guest star from Nashville was going to release one of the best songs from last year?  Even more surprising?  It’s a heart-wrenching tale of a slave woman’s refusal to fall apart in the face of some truly traumatic experiences.  For Giddens, an alumna of Oberlin’s Conservatory of Music, the Carolina Chocolate Drops, and the New Basement Tapes, it’s never really been a question of whether she has the talent.  At the ripe young age of 41, she’s already been inducted into the North Carolina Hall of Fame.  Some of us have been following her career for years, and were just waiting for that one break out song.  In a more ideal world, this exquisite nod to slave songs would have resulted in massive recognition for Giddens.  According to Giddens herself, the song comes from reading an advertisement for a 22-year-old slave woman, whose 9 month old baby comes with her “at the purchaser’s option.”  Her reaction to something so ghastly inspired her to write the song.  She recounts the life of a woman abused by the world of slavery who refuses to lose her soul in the process.  Again, for those of us who listen to the lyrics, she takes you through some heavy shit, including the rape of a young child.  If you’re one of those people who doesn’t really notice lyrics, though, there’s still plenty to love.  Guitar, banjo, percussion, vocals - everything is at the top of the game here.  In a song that could have easily been a theme for Lupita N’Yongo’s Patsy from 12 Years a Slave, Giddens proves she’s an artist that wants her career to mean something.  She’s already earned such an incredible legacy, and “At the Purchaser’s Option” shows she’s just getting started.

4. Rostam – “Gwan” It’s no secret to anyone who read these lists in years past that I have a massive crush on Rostam Batmanglij.  You may not agree that he’s a handsome fella, but I don’t really care, because so much of my crush originates in his musical genius.  Rostam’s career - starting as a core member of Vampire Weekend and moving on to producing artists like Carly Rae Jepsen or collaborating with Hamilton Leithauser - has been nothing short of phenomenal.  It almost seems like the man cannot stumble.  “Gwan” feels like a song that cannot be classified; some people hear Irish influences in the second half’s string breakdown, while others swear he’s alluding to more Eastern sources.  The Iranian-American artist, born in the D.C. area, has intentionally alluded to various cultures throughout his career.  As long as his music sounds this gorgeous, I have no horse in the race when it comes to the cultures he’s referencing.  Rostam’s lyrics reference an unspeakable connection, a relationship that defies explanation.  Ever since I first heard this song, it’s made me think of my best friend.  It certainly doesn’t hurt that said friend lives in New York, given the obvious Manhattan references in Rostam’s lyrics.  “Gwan” could be the soundtrack to a cinematic montage, it could be the first dance at a wedding, or it could accompany you for a walk downtown.  Regardless of how it infiltrates someone’s life, there’s little argument to be had here that Rostam remains at the absolute top of his game.

3. Kate Rhudy – “I Don’t Think You’re An Angel (Anymore)” Just because the top ten has a third act from North Carolina doesn’t mean I’m playing favorites here.  Kate Rhudy is only starting her career with the album Rock N’ Roll Ain’t For Me, but you wouldn’t be able to tell when you listen to this stunning track off of her debut.  She’s a recent graduate of Appalachian State University in Boone, a town known for its particularly crunchy hippie scene.  Despite the psychedelic tinges that signal the local sound, Kate stayed true to her roots, describing her own music as “sad river folk.”  People seem awed by the fact that Taylor Swift writes some of her own songs, but I prefer an artist who can write her own songs, sing them well, and even accompany herself on an instrument or two.  Rhudy puts Swift to shame with a slowed down Southern ballad about losing trust in your partner.  Do you want crystal clear vocals? Check.  How about a truly beautiful showcase for guitars and mandolin? She’s got that, too.  The entire album is jaw dropping as a debut, but “Angel” buries itself within you, it burrows deep into your soul in a way that few songs do.  As Rhudy herself has said about folk music, “It’s music that’s meant to be felt, not heard.”  She’s clearly accomplished that goal with this achingly bewitching song; in a weaker year, it easily could have been the best song overall.  For now, though, it will have to settle for years of inclusion on my favorite playlists.

2. Rose Cousins – “Freedom” Canada strikes again.  I have a deep-seated love for Canada that stretches back for eons, but I never really expected to find the Great White North’s answer to Patty Griffin.  Rose Cousins, who calls Halifax, Nova Scotia home, has a more soothing voice than Griffin, if not quite as distinctive. Her songwriting skills, though, are evidently on par with the folk/Americana legend, and I find myself blown away by the sheer scope of what Cousins has achieved with “Freedom.”  Every moment that you think you have your head wrapped around this song, it shifts from beneath you, transforming in real time.  It shifts from a slow tempo acoustic jam to a raucous breakdown, from Cousins’ lower register to true vocal fireworks.  She’s always been known for her clear-eyed melodies and the poetry of her lyrics, but I find “Freedom” to be a new height in her achievements.  It’s about the double-edged sword called choice that we navigate all too often, as she realized in a relationship, we often must give something up to achieve what we truly want.  Whether that means compromise, or leaving something behind entirely, the lyrics here are enthralling: “Well I pride myself in letting go/I'm better off and stronger alone/I've got my freedom from choices made/And freedom from being brave/Freedom.”  Yet her tone throughout is bittersweet.  I can acknowledge with far too much experience of my own that being on your own can vacillate between crushing loneliness and exhilarating levels of autonomy.  What Cousins has achieved here is a song that speaks to both sides of that coin at the same time.  There is acceptance here; acceptance that your choices have consequences, and that you’ll likely be fine in the long run anyway.

1. Ryan Adams – “To Be Without You” There are few memories from last year that I cherish more than the 14 hours or so I spent in Nashville on my cross-country move from Houston to Boston.  I was so excited to catch up with my good friend Maggie over sweet tea and queso at SATCo, and felt right at home in the town of my graduate school alma mater.  It had been far too long, and one of the most vivid parts I remember is pulling away from Maggie’s house the next morning. Facing down a stretch of winding mountain roads and another ten or eleven hours on the way to Richmond, I thought about my soundtrack.  With a cool, foggy November morning soaking my bones, I put on the one man I knew could keep me company over the next several hours of driving through autumnal Tennessee: Ryan Adams.  There’s something truly incredible about his consistency; the man’s released over a dozen albums, whether it’s solo work or paired with groups like the Cardinals or Whiskeytown.  His latest album follows quickly on the heels of 2015’s full-album cover of 1989 and his eponymous album in 2014, completing an arc of sorts with Prisoner’s clear 80s inspiration.  It was easily one of the year’s best LPs, and Adams’s first album of original material to follow his publicly painful divorce with actress Mandy Moore.  Without a doubt, “To Be Without You” jumped out of the speakers on my first listen back in February.  The song is deceptively uptempo since the lyrics are heartbreaking, leaning into the despair Adams felt after the dissolution of his marriage.  His arrangement is relatively subdued and radio friendly, utilizing guitar, percussion, and little else to focus on the true heart of the song: his pain.  “I feel empty/I feel tired/I feel worn/And nothing really matters anymore” are not the lyrics you’d expect from a song so melodious, but Adams is an expert at crafting songs and subverting expectations at this point in his career.  “I think the theme of this record is that we’re all prisoners of some desires, in that the very things we love are the things that hold us hostage and keep us trapped,” he told NME. “Either we are the cage or we’re in the cage and it’s trying to figure out in every situation which of those things is real.”  The themes work perfectly for life, love, and surviving 2017, and he created another instant classic with “To Be Without You.”  Hundreds of listens later, I still get completely sucked into it; clearly, that’s the true mark of the best song of the year.

[andrewromanoyahoo]

Eric Holder joins the anti-Trump resistance — and mulls a presidential campaign of his own

Former U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder, left, speaks at a news conference to discuss the proposed so-called California “sanctuary state bill” as California state Senate President pro Tempore Kevin de Leon listens, Monday, June 19, 2017, in Los Angeles. (Photo: Mark J. Terrill/AP)

LOS ANGELES — More than two years after leaving the Obama administration, former Attorney General Eric Holder is reentering the political fray.

His goal: to lead the legal resistance to Donald Trump’s agenda — and perhaps even run against the president in 2020.

Seized by a sense of urgency to oppose Trump and restore what he regards as America’s best self, Holder is mulling a White House bid of his own, according to three sources who have spoken to him and are familiar with his thinking.

“Up to now, I have been more behind-the-scenes,” Holder told Yahoo News in an exclusive interview about his plans. “But that’s about to change. I have a certain status as the former attorney general. A certain familiarity as the first African-American attorney general. There’s a justified perception that I’m close to President Obama. So I want to use whatever skills I have, whatever notoriety I have, to be effective in opposing things that are, at the end of the day, just bad for the country.

“Now is the time to be more visible,” Holder added. “Now is the time to be heard.”

On Monday morning, Holder launched this new phase of his career by traveling to California to speak out.

Nearly all of the officials who stepped to the podium in the lobby of Los Angeles’s Ronald Reagan State Building Monday were Californians. They showed up, and summoned the local press corps, in order to promote a piece of legislation called SB 54 (aka. the California Values Act), which is designed to prevent the Trump administration from forcing local police departments to assist in the deportation of undocumented immigrants. Critics — and even some supporters — have said it would transform the whole of California into a so-called sanctuary state.

The lineup included outspoken anti-Trump Democrat Kevin de Leon, president pro tempore of the California state Senate, who introduced SB 54 last December and is now working to push it through the legislature; Los Angeles Police Chief Charlie Beck, who finally endorsed the controversial measure; other top cops from Long Beach and Sacramento; and Linda Lopez, head of immigrant affairs for L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti.

The only outsider was Holder — the lanky lawyer with the short gray hair and the thick black mustache.

One of Barack Obama’s closest friends and most prominent appointees, Holder isn’t from California. (He lives in the Washington, D.C., area, where he’s a partner at Covington & Burling.) He no longer works in law enforcement. And he isn’t an immigration activist.

For the last few months, however, Holder has quietly been serving as outside counsel to the California legislature, working with de Leon and other Democrats to craft an aggressive legal response to what they consider President Trump’s most threatening policies.

Holder’s presence at Monday’s press conference was meant to emphasize that relationship — “to dramatize the issue, to raise the consciousness of people, to help the legislation along,” he told Yahoo News.

And so, in the Reagan building lobby, Holder explained why he thinks SB 54 is constitutional (“the federal government does not have the ability to force states to do things that are inherently federal in nature”) and why, in his view, the Trump administration’s threats to withhold federal funding in response aren’t (“the federal government can’t coerce states into doing something states don’t want to do by threatening to withhold support”). Meanwhile, Holder’s team at Covington released a lengthy memorandum backing him up.

But Monday’s event was also something bigger: a coming-out party, of sorts, for a figure who sees his work in California as a springboard to a new role as the key legal architect — and one of the major public faces — of the nationwide progressive pushback against President Trump.

California state Senate President pro Tempore Kevin de Leon, left and former U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder speak to the press on Monday, June 19, 2017, in Los Angeles. (Photo: Andrew Romano/Yahoo News)

Rarely mentioned as a 2020 contender and controversial while in office, Holder would enter any Democratic primary contest as a long shot. Even his engagement with the resistance is something of a surprise. For most of his career, Holder was seen as a conventional, mild-mannered figure. But he grew more pugnacious as attorney general, in part because Republicans never stopped attacking him, and he wound up pursuing a sharply progressive agenda during Obama’s second term.

Even so, Holder insists that he never envisioned himself as an anti-Trump crusader.

“I thought, frankly, along with everybody else, that after the election, with Hillary Clinton as president, I could walk off the field,” he said. “So when she didn’t win, I thought, ‘We’ll have to see how this plays out.’ But it became clear relatively soon — and certainly sooner than I expected — that I had to get back on the field and be in effective opposition.”

In the months ahead, Holder plans to expand the scope of his opposition to Trump. Part of that expansion will center on the National Democratic Redistricting Committee, a new, Obama-backed group that’s working to prepare Democrats for 2020, when states will redraw the boundaries of their legislative and congressional districts for the first time in a decade.

“Up until my now our efforts have been largely organizational — raising funds, generating support,” Holder told Yahoo News. “But now we’re moving into an operational phase where we’ll be filing lawsuits and I’ll be more visible talking about those issues.”

Another part of Holder’s campaign will involve explicitly political appearances. On Saturday, for instance, the former attorney general waded into Virginia’s marquee 2017 gubernatorial race with a keynote address at the state Democratic Party’s annual Jefferson-Jackson dinner, in which he excoriated Trump and embraced the resistance — the first of a series of such speeches, with North Carolina next on the calendar.

“We have come too far as a nation, sacrificed too much, made too much progress, to allow the state of our nation to be undermined by the extreme part of a divided minority administration,” Holder said, describing Trumpism as “the worst of us.” “If opposition is to be the course — and it must be — we must recognize and remember that the power of the American people has been too often underestimated. Once roused we are a mighty force.”

But the most intriguing — and perhaps most consequential — aspect of Holder’s ambitious new effort is a scheme, still in its early stages, to create a national, privately funded, PAC-like organization that would develop and coordinate legal resistance strategies among various states and localities determined to stymie Trump.

“California is in so many ways a trendsetter, whether it is in pop culture or in politics,” Holder told Yahoo News. “That’s why it was such an attractive possibility for me to go to California and work with the legislators there in crafting their response to the Trump administration — because I think what California does gives courage to other states and other public officials in other parts of the country who might be thinking about principled opposition. It shows how that opposition can take shape.”

So far, the legal resistance has been largely improvised, with young liberal lawyers spontaneously descending upon airports in the wake of Trump’s Muslim travel ban and state attorneys general individually butting heads with Jeff Sessions, their federal counterpart.

Holder wants to change that.

“You look at this as kind of a continuum, where you oppose the policy as it is proposed, you hope that it doesn’t become law, but then, to the extent that it does, you use the courts to try to overturn it,” he explained. “As the different states and different public officials start to stand for the same things and take the same positions — as they start to use the same tactics — the opposition becomes that much more effective.”

For now, Holder will continue to set the stage in California. (Earlier this month, the state assembly decided not to renew his $25,000-a-month contract; the state Senate, however, plans to retain his services indefinitely.) And while immigration isn’t the only hot-button topic on Holder’s to-do list — de Leon is also soliciting his advice on climate change and health care — it’s the one that’s front-and-center right now, as Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents ramp up noncriminal deportations and the courts consider whether Trump’s executive order on sanctuary cities is constitutional.

“We’re here with a very clear purpose: to underscore the undeniable truth that preserving and enhancing trust, real and genuine trust between law enforcement and the diverse communities they serve, is essential for the safety and well-being of all residents of this great state — indeed, this great nation,” Holder said at Monday’s event, alluding to the argument that undocumented immigrants will stop reporting crimes to the local cops if those same officers are also tasked with deporting them.

“California is leading,” Holder concluded. “California is doing the right thing. This is something that needs to be done nationwide.”

If Holder gets his way, he will spend the months and years ahead ensuring that’s exactly what happens.

_____

Read more from Yahoo News:

Trump lawyer: President’s tweet about ‘being investigated’ did not confirm probe

Will Congress let Mary Klein decide how to die?

Health Care Declassified: Behind the Senate’s secrecy

Is it too soon to miss George W. Bush? Not in the age of Trump.

Photos: Rebuilding the Great Wall of China

[mymusecommands]

Even Gods Get Tired (Prep. Scene 4)

A/N: Here is the second installment of scenes introducing Christine’s upbringing. This scene is also the debut of another original character of mine named Kamil. I really love their relationship, and I wanted to show how Christine’s different siblings treat her. I hope you guys enjoy this cute scene.

Length: 1.4k

Tagged:@caplanbuckybarnes@bartallenisms@withoutmyguiltandmyhair@gorebitchev@sandrathingie@crow-sizna@deanwinnchesterisbae

As the future redeemer of her country, Christine had much to learn, to master, before she could take up the mantle of her destiny. A good leader was well versed in history, fluent and deliberate with language, considerate and nuanced, compassionate and ruthless, all to the right degrees. A good leader, meant to break the endless cycle of war and isolation in a land severed from the world, could fight with every weapon, in every style, with every form of magic. Good, however, was not good enough. A child of the gods needed to be perfect.

She had twenty years to become that perfect leader.

Not a second was allowed to be wasted. Or so she thought. Between her prayers and lessons and training and lectures and trips and meetings, she was occupied enough to not even consider wasting time. After a decade and a half, she began to see rest as a waste. Rest and play and relaxation became nuisances.

Her time was running out, and so she treated every moment as precious. To some, it looked like obsession, neglect, unhealthy, even, but no one who thought so understood the weight on her shoulders.

Others who knew all too well still pushed back at her. Well, not others. One other.

Christine had three siblings. They were not bound by blood, none of her so-called relatives were, but it made no difference. Azerrad was the oldest, the golden child, the priest. Rashanda's perfect son. Felisha, the middle sister, was one of Spade's kin. A hemalian kindra who could level entire armies before she was fully grown.

And then there was Kamil. A human. A mainlander. Set adrift from her homeland of Agrabah and nearly swallowed up by the sea, she was the miracle. At five years older than Christine, she was also the youngest. The only one who had not yet grown weary of time, she took every opportunity to get her sister to throw it away.

"You said Azerrad wanted to see me. Where is he?" Christine said, her bare feet making temporary prints in the sand underneath them. The sun was casting its last rays of orange as it neared the horizon, and the beach was empty save for two early risers.

Kamil smiled and raised her hands so she could fold them behind her head. "I may have taken a wrong turn or two on the way," she said. Her voice was deep, but along with Cat, she was training it to not be as low. That along with therapy from the mayapta, a master of transformation, was helping her along in feeling more comfortable with herself.

Christine stopped in her tracks. "Seriously Kamil? This again? Where is he waiting for me, then? You know I have a schedule!" The admonition was half-hearted at best. She was fighting back a smile, actually.

Kamil pointed the toes on one foot and swept them through the sand. She grinned. "I may have exaggerated the urgency of his message. You know me, always absent-minded." That was a jab at Rashanda, but Christine ignored it.

She looked out at the setting sun and inhaled the warm, salty air combing through the cloud of curls around her head. "Master does not like me wasting time. Neither do my parents."

Kamil slung an arm around her and began to walk again. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Azerrad and Felisha hate it too, but you misunderstand. This isn't wasting time." She slid her hand from its place on Christine's shoulder down to grasp her hand. "You barely sleep, all you do is work." She raised their hands and twirled Christine in a circle. "You're still a kid. I think they keep forgetting that."

Christine let go of her with a small frown. "I know I am and so do they. No other child has my responsibility, Kamil. Sometimes I feel that you do not care about it."

Kamil huffed. "Again, you misunderstand." She closed the space between them and wound one of Christine's curls around her finger. "It's not that I don't care, coo-coo head. I do this because I care about you, not just the prophecy. You still have time." She kissed her forehead and finally saw the smile she had been waiting for.

Christine batted her hand away after another moment and kicked up some sand. "Alright, you have me. I know you would not drag me out of bed just to walk. What have you planned?"

Kamil laughed. "Follow me and you'll see. I will challenge you on one thing, though." She began to walk again, Christine in tow. "You weren't sleeping. I saw your scrolls open. You just crawled into bed because you heard me coming."

When Christine's fingers twined around the long white chain hanging around her neck and she averted her sea-green gaze, Kamil poked her cheek. "I am sorry, but I will be speaking to the Stewards of Integrity for the first time in a couple of months. On my own. I need to make sure my speech is perfect."

"It will be. You're smart and you know it. A couple of hours won't sap the intelligence out of you, not matter how much Rashanda tells you it will," Kamil said. She stopped at a large square tent constructed out of mismatched blankets and sheets.

"Rashanda just wants what is best for me," Christine said. She owed her mentor much, and Azerrad owed the same woman everything. It still struck her when Kamil was irreverent, and no matter how many times it happened, she still expected Rashanda to emerge from the floor to scold them both.

"You know what's good for you? Rest! Now come on in, I have snacks in here," Kamil said, ducking past a pair of flaps. She flopped onto the makeshift floor made out of towels, more blankets, and a multitude of pillows.

Christine followed her, then turned around and folded the entrance open so she still had a view of the ocean. "Really? How long have you had this set up?"

Kamil tossed her a large, round mango and patted the spot next to her. "A couple of weeks. I've started watching some local kids while their parents work. Azerrad's been giving me more free time now that you're serving with him."

Christine sat beside her and watched the waves turn shades of gold and ruby. "That sounds fun. Kids love you," she said with a smile. She began to peel the mango skin back in equal strips.

"Yeah, well, you were the first to. Remember when we tried to catch that bird living up in the branches of your house and Azerrad freaked? It was so funny!" Kamil said. She was breaking off pieces from a loaf of bread.

Christine tried to wipe the mango juice dribbling down her chin with the back of her hand. Kamil took a small cloth that had been lying around and handed it to her. "Do you think you want to work with Azerrad permanently?"

Kamil shushed her. Then when Christine opened her mouth to speak, shushed her again. "No work talk. I told you we're here to relax." She sat up. “You see the ocean out there?"

Christine nodded, following her gaze to the now darkened sky and waves. All whispering to the sand and wind.

"It doesn't care. It simply is. Sometimes it's better to not care." She put an arm around her and drew her in close.

Christine deflated. "What if you do not have a choice but to care?"

Kamil snorted. "There's always a choice, coo-coo head. You don't have to care about everything all the time. You're not there yet."

Christine searched the whispers in the waves for a confirmation of her own feelings. She would be crossing that ocean in a few years. She would become the bridge reaching across it in just as little time. How could she possibly relax when she would bear such weight so soon?

Kamil got up and moved in front of her. Her orange eyes captivated Christine for long enough to say this," Listen to me. Someone has to take care of the person who will rule us. Your mind and your skill and your magic all live in the hands of the best the world has to offer. I know I'm not the best to hold onto your sleepy eyes and weary hands, but I'll try my best to make sure they're tended to as well."

Christine dropped the mango and let her sister take her hands. They were sticky, and Kamil squeezed them.

"We all need you, but that doesn't mean you're not allowed to need us, too. Even the gods get tired."

[sentrava]

Books a Million, Part XXI: Memoirs, Chick Lit & Growing Up Different

Winter tends to be my favorite time to catch up on my reading. From the week of Thanksgiving until midway through January, everyone in the tourism industry seems to disappear—it’s as if conference season is over, their budgets have been planned for the following year, and they’re taking a very lengthy hiatus. I took the opportunity over the holidays and my birthday trip to Puerto Rico to whittle down my 2019 book list, just a smidge.

Here’s everything I’ve read in the past couple months in case you’re heading on a Spring Break or summer trip of your own soon and looking for a good vacation read of your own.

Man in the (Rearview) Mirror by LaRue Cook

I’m at that point in my career where so many peers and friends are publishing books, and I can barely keep up with reading them all. But when a friend sent me a link to LaRue’s book, I bumped it up the chain and immediately ordered the paperback instead of waiting for the Kindle version to drop. LaRue and I started as writers at the UT paper, The Daily Beacon, on the same day; I was 20, he was 18, halfway through his freshman year. We immediately became journalist friends, and I was soon promoted to features editor, he one of my most reliable writers. He later went on to be the editor of the paper after I graduated.

Our lives ran parallel for years; I worked a stint at Entertainment Weekly, and he took over the same job a year or two later. He and his girlfriend at the time, another of my close college pals, moved to NYC in my final months there before moving to California, so I got to spend some time with them as my neighbors while he was getting his feet wet in sports writing for ESPN. But then, he dropped off my radar. He was never on social media back then, despite being younger than me, and I often lose touch with people I can’t track via Facebook and Instagram. I now know that’s partially because he was going through his version of an existential crisis, and after a decade with ESPN, he quit, moved back to Knoxville and became an Uber driver. While doing this (and driving more than 5,000 passengers around town), he wrote a book—a memoir told through the parallel lives of his passengers. A read that covers so many topics in the span of 234 pages: racial inequality, sexual orientation, faith and religion, his own infidelities. It’s always weird reading a memoir by someone you know, as it feels a bit like your peeling back the layers of their soul. I’d love to write something similar someday, but am not sure I’d ever be able to approach it with such honesty as LaRue did. This is a great book for anyone looking for a non-fiction read that examines how losing your pillar at a young age—in this case, LaRue’s dad at 15—can go on to shape a person’s identity as a young adult.

Hum If You Don’t Know the Words by Bianca Marais

I’m still shook by this book. You know that it’s a powerful read if you’re still thinking about it two months later. I started and finished this book at the beach in less than 24 hours, and man, it was some heavy stuff.

Taking place in an 18-month span during the height of apartheid, Hum chronicles the lives of two very different heroines—a nine-year-old white girl whose parents are slain and a 50-year-old black woman who came to the big city to track down her rebel daughter caught up in the Soweto Uprising—and at the heart of the story, impresses upon the reader how no matter the color of our skin, our sexual orientation, our religion or where we were born, no one is any greater or worse than the next human (and that good people do bad things and bad people do good things). Particularly poignant during the racial inequality happening still today, this book really tugged at my heartstrings and should be on everyone’s must-read list.

All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

I love me a good mystery, and All the Missing Girls is in a similar vein to Gone Girl and every Mary Kubica book I’ve ever devoured. It starts off with Nicolette, a 28-year-old teacher who had fled her small Appalachian town after high school to move to the big city, returning home to care for her ailing father—and confronting the ghosts of her past, specifically the disappearance of her best friend. Not long after she arrives, another young girl goes missing, and Nicolette makes it her mission to figure out what happened to her—and if it is indeed linked to the same missing girl from a decade prior.

Contrary to what other reviewers have written, I found the pace of this book quick and engaging, and those who like suspense will likely find it entertaining. The only thing I didn’t really care for was the erratic storytelling style in which the author kept jumping a day back in time to set the stage. It made it a bit confusing to piece together the timeline on the reader’s end. Overall, though, I’d read this book again and give it four out of five starts if I were still rating my reads.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

We’re never really told what exactly is wrong with Eleanor Oliphant; we just know from the opening lines of the book that she’s different. And that difference takes us through her life in a deadbeat job with no friends or family to call her own, a curious character who becomes overly infatuated with a rockstar she’s never met, to the point where she begins to stalk him, both at gigs and at his own home, and even thinks he’s her boyfriend.

Socially awkward Eleanor is always saying the exact wrong thing, and she’s never even aware she’s the butt of everybody’s jokes in the office. A chance encounter, however, brings her close to a coworker who she previously had written off as uninteresting: She falls into an unexpected friendship with Raymond when they come to the rescue of an older man who has fallen in the street and needs to be taken to the hospital. This book isn’t so much plot-driven, as it is about character development, and Honeyman is a master of that particular trope. Peculiar and uplifting despite its somber undertones—alcoholism, mental illness, child abuse—Eleanor Oliphant was one of the most unexpectedly endearing books I read in the past year. The cadence of Eleanor’s narrating takes a bit of getting used to, but once you insert yourself into her mind, reading in her voice becomes second nature.

The High Season by Judy Blundell

The premise of this book—an artist and gallery curator, Ruthie, dealing with a separation who longs to keep her life in a sleepy Long Island coastal town in one piece when everything around her seems to be falling apart—made me think this was going to be a beach read (or maybe the fact that it was actually set on an island did that). But it was a bit, well, sleepier than that. It took nearly halfway through the book until I even knew what it was really about: Ruthie’s failed marriage, her career crumbling at the hands of her board and coming to grips with everything changing around her, including the loss of her home and her daughter, who is midway through high school. There was a socialite aspect to this book I kind of liked when the Hampton set arrived in the North Fork for the summer; it brought a little Sex and the City edge and scandal to what was dragging on as a mundane novel to that point.

In the end, this book was fine; not great, not terrible. I liked the art gallery aspect of it; the fact that SVV and I are part of so many groups and on various art boards these days made the book a bit more relatable. If I still gave ratings, this one would get two-and-a-half stars: very slow in parts, but enough of a story to hold my interest till the end.

The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillroy

The Wedding Date is, hands down, one of the worst books I have read ever. I am still shocked it got such positive ratings on Good Reads and Amazon—does no one read for content anymore?! I stuck with it kept waiting for the plot to develop and … nothing. In the opening pages of the book, Alexa meets Drew in an elevator, then soon after agrees to be his fake wedding date to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. The two fall into an on-again, off-again romance, and there’s just no storyline AT ALL.

I never read any of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy, but I imagine it was a lot like this: heavy on the sex scenes, light on the content. No thanks, not my jam. It’s a shame, too, as this could have been a powerful tale about interracial relationships and the trials faced by both side, but instead it was just plain garbage.

When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger

If you loved The Devil Wears Prada, you’ll be happy to see that Lauren Weisberger is back many years later with another follow-up tale that chronicles Miranda Priestley’s assistant Emily Charlton as she navigates life’s changes after her time at Runway. (Side note: Somehow I must have missed the second in the series, Revenge Wears Prada? Anyone read it?) Emily is a fixer, an image consultant of sorts for the Hollywood set, and when her career starts to falter, she takes a job in Greenwich, Conn., trying to help a former supermodel navigate a scandal involving her senator husband while also suffering life in the suburbs.

I’ve read every other book of Weisberger’s, and while none can compare to Devil, this one is satisfying for anyone who loved the original.

Crazy, Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

I’ll admit that I had no desire to read this book until I saw the movie trailer. Then, I immediately signed up for it at my local library, but was approximately 368th on the list, no exaggeration, so it took ages to land in my inbox. And when it finally did, it was worth the wait—nothing at all like I expected.

Rachel Chu is a professor at NYU whose boyfriends Nicky invites her back to Singapore with him for his best friend’s wedding; little does she know, his family is basically Singapore royalty. Despite the fact that she’s Asian-American—she never knew her father, but her mother was a Chinese immigrant—many members of Nick’s snobby family doesn’t give her the time of day, particularly his mom who is out to destroy their relationship. What follows is a fascinating look into how the upper crust, the social-climbers for whom dropping a cool million on a pair of earrings is an everyday occurrence, live—private planes! private clubs! private islands!—in one of the world’s most extravagant, over-the-top cities. One of my dear friends is a Singapore native, and I fact-checked much the book with her—she says it’s very accurate to the 1% there and even knows the families upon whom the book is based.

I then watched the movie on a recent flight and was equally pleased by it. I suppose next up I’ll be reading the second and third installments of this trilogy—please tell me they’re as entertaining as the first?

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine

You know the kind of book you think is going to end one way, then midway through, you’re hit with a whammy and completely left off-guard? That’s The Last Mrs. Parrish to a tee. Amber Patterson is a con-artist who weasels her way into heiress Daphne Parrish’s world of excess by becoming her friend in Single White Female fashion—later going as far as trying to become her, attempting to take over her husband and her home. The book ping-pongs between narrators, both Amber and Daphne, and there’s really no way to tell you anymore of the plot of Amber’s metamorphosis into Daphne without spoiling any of the zingers, of which there are many. Go. Read. This. Book!

I’m really, really hoping The Last Mrs. Parrish gets made into a movie starring (or produced by) Reese Witherspoon.

This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

Oh my, I LOVED This Is How It Always Is. I didn’t know what it was about in the slightest, but so many people recommended it, that I immediately requested it from the library. Based on Frankel’s own experiences with having a boy who early on began identifying as a girl, this book chronicles a set of five brothers, the youngest of whom always felt different. When this feeling becomes evolves into exploration—wearing dresses, putting on makeup, playing with dolls—his parents begin to realize it’s more than just a phase. So they take steps to letting their son become their daughter by moving across the country and completely resetting their lives.

At the root of this story is the message that all families have issues, all families keep secrets—it’s how they choose to deal with them that sets them apart.

**********

Currently I’m reading The Paris Secret and A Gentleman in Moscow, neither of which have really grabbed my attention, but I’ve also got Bad Blood, Becoming, Pete Buttigieg’s Shortest Way Home and Far Away and Further Back, a memoir by my friend Holly’s dad. I guess it’s a non-fiction kind of reading month over here!

What have you read and loved so far this year?

Books a Million, Part XXI: Memoirs, Chick Lit & Growing Up Different published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS

[waynebomberger]

Books a Million, Part XXI: Memoirs, Chick Lit & Growing Up Different

Winter tends to be my favorite time to catch up on my reading. From the week of Thanksgiving until midway through January, everyone in the tourism industry seems to disappear—it’s as if conference season is over, their budgets have been planned for the following year, and they’re taking a very lengthy hiatus. I took the opportunity over the holidays and my birthday trip to Puerto Rico to whittle down my 2019 book list, just a smidge.

Here’s everything I’ve read in the past couple months in case you’re heading on a Spring Break or summer trip of your own soon and looking for a good vacation read of your own.

Man in the (Rearview) Mirror by LaRue Cook

I’m at that point in my career where so many peers and friends are publishing books, and I can barely keep up with reading them all. But when a friend sent me a link to LaRue’s book, I bumped it up the chain and immediately ordered the paperback instead of waiting for the Kindle version to drop. LaRue and I started as writers at the UT paper, The Daily Beacon, on the same day; I was 20, he was 18, halfway through his freshman year. We immediately became journalist friends, and I was soon promoted to features editor, he one of my most reliable writers. He later went on to be the editor of the paper after I graduated.

Our lives ran parallel for years; I worked a stint at Entertainment Weekly, and he took over the same job a year or two later. He and his girlfriend at the time, another of my close college pals, moved to NYC in my final months there before moving to California, so I got to spend some time with them as my neighbors while he was getting his feet wet in sports writing for ESPN. But then, he dropped off my radar. He was never on social media back then, despite being younger than me, and I often lose touch with people I can’t track via Facebook and Instagram. I now know that’s partially because he was going through his version of an existential crisis, and after a decade with ESPN, he quit, moved back to Knoxville and became an Uber driver. While doing this (and driving more than 5,000 passengers around town), he wrote a book—a memoir told through the parallel lives of his passengers. A read that covers so many topics in the span of 234 pages: racial inequality, sexual orientation, faith and religion, his own infidelities. It’s always weird reading a memoir by someone you know, as it feels a bit like your peeling back the layers of their soul. I’d love to write something similar someday, but am not sure I’d ever be able to approach it with such honesty as LaRue did. This is a great book for anyone looking for a non-fiction read that examines how losing your pillar at a young age—in this case, LaRue’s dad at 15—can go on to shape a person’s identity as a young adult.

Hum If You Don’t Know the Words by Bianca Marais

I’m still shook by this book. You know that it’s a powerful read if you’re still thinking about it two months later. I started and finished this book at the beach in less than 24 hours, and man, it was some heavy stuff.

Taking place in an 18-month span during the height of apartheid, Hum chronicles the lives of two very different heroines—a nine-year-old white girl whose parents are slain and a 50-year-old black woman who came to the big city to track down her rebel daughter caught up in the Soweto Uprising—and at the heart of the story, impresses upon the reader how no matter the color of our skin, our sexual orientation, our religion or where we were born, no one is any greater or worse than the next human (and that good people do bad things and bad people do good things). Particularly poignant during the racial inequality happening still today, this book really tugged at my heartstrings and should be on everyone’s must-read list.

All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

I love me a good mystery, and All the Missing Girls is in a similar vein to Gone Girl and every Mary Kubica book I’ve ever devoured. It starts off with Nicolette, a 28-year-old teacher who had fled her small Appalachian town after high school to move to the big city, returning home to care for her ailing father—and confronting the ghosts of her past, specifically the disappearance of her best friend. Not long after she arrives, another young girl goes missing, and Nicolette makes it her mission to figure out what happened to her—and if it is indeed linked to the same missing girl from a decade prior.

Contrary to what other reviewers have written, I found the pace of this book quick and engaging, and those who like suspense will likely find it entertaining. The only thing I didn’t really care for was the erratic storytelling style in which the author kept jumping a day back in time to set the stage. It made it a bit confusing to piece together the timeline on the reader’s end. Overall, though, I’d read this book again and give it four out of five starts if I were still rating my reads.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

We’re never really told what exactly is wrong with Eleanor Oliphant; we just know from the opening lines of the book that she’s different. And that difference takes us through her life in a deadbeat job with no friends or family to call her own, a curious character who becomes overly infatuated with a rockstar she’s never met, to the point where she begins to stalk him, both at gigs and at his own home, and even thinks he’s her boyfriend.

Socially awkward Eleanor is always saying the exact wrong thing, and she’s never even aware she’s the butt of everybody’s jokes in the office. A chance encounter, however, brings her close to a coworker who she previously had written off as uninteresting: She falls into an unexpected friendship with Raymond when they come to the rescue of an older man who has fallen in the street and needs to be taken to the hospital. This book isn’t so much plot-driven, as it is about character development, and Honeyman is a master of that particular trope. Peculiar and uplifting despite its somber undertones—alcoholism, mental illness, child abuse—Eleanor Oliphant was one of the most unexpectedly endearing books I read in the past year. The cadence of Eleanor’s narrating takes a bit of getting used to, but once you insert yourself into her mind, reading in her voice becomes second nature.

The High Season by Judy Blundell

The premise of this book—an artist and gallery curator, Ruthie, dealing with a separation who longs to keep her life in a sleepy Long Island coastal town in one piece when everything around her seems to be falling apart—made me think this was going to be a beach read (or maybe the fact that it was actually set on an island did that). But it was a bit, well, sleepier than that. It took nearly halfway through the book until I even knew what it was really about: Ruthie’s failed marriage, her career crumbling at the hands of her board and coming to grips with everything changing around her, including the loss of her home and her daughter, who is midway through high school. There was a socialite aspect to this book I kind of liked when the Hampton set arrived in the North Fork for the summer; it brought a little Sex and the City edge and scandal to what was dragging on as a mundane novel to that point.

In the end, this book was fine; not great, not terrible. I liked the art gallery aspect of it; the fact that SVV and I are part of so many groups and on various art boards these days made the book a bit more relatable. If I still gave ratings, this one would get two-and-a-half stars: very slow in parts, but enough of a story to hold my interest till the end.

The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillroy

The Wedding Date is, hands down, one of the worst books I have read ever. I am still shocked it got such positive ratings on Good Reads and Amazon—does no one read for content anymore?! I stuck with it kept waiting for the plot to develop and … nothing. In the opening pages of the book, Alexa meets Drew in an elevator, then soon after agrees to be his fake wedding date to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding. The two fall into an on-again, off-again romance, and there’s just no storyline AT ALL.

I never read any of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy, but I imagine it was a lot like this: heavy on the sex scenes, light on the content. No thanks, not my jam. It’s a shame, too, as this could have been a powerful tale about interracial relationships and the trials faced by both side, but instead it was just plain garbage.

When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger

If you loved The Devil Wears Prada, you’ll be happy to see that Lauren Weisberger is back many years later with another follow-up tale that chronicles Miranda Priestley’s assistant Emily Charlton as she navigates life’s changes after her time at Runway. (Side note: Somehow I must have missed the second in the series, Revenge Wears Prada? Anyone read it?) Emily is a fixer, an image consultant of sorts for the Hollywood set, and when her career starts to falter, she takes a job in Greenwich, Conn., trying to help a former supermodel navigate a scandal involving her senator husband while also suffering life in the suburbs.

I’ve read every other book of Weisberger’s, and while none can compare to Devil, this one is satisfying for anyone who loved the original.

Crazy, Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

I’ll admit that I had no desire to read this book until I saw the movie trailer. Then, I immediately signed up for it at my local library, but was approximately 368th on the list, no exaggeration, so it took ages to land in my inbox. And when it finally did, it was worth the wait—nothing at all like I expected.

Rachel Chu is a professor at NYU whose boyfriends Nicky invites her back to Singapore with him for his best friend’s wedding; little does she know, his family is basically Singapore royalty. Despite the fact that she’s Asian-American—she never knew her father, but her mother was a Chinese immigrant—many members of Nick’s snobby family doesn’t give her the time of day, particularly his mom who is out to destroy their relationship. What follows is a fascinating look into how the upper crust, the social-climbers for whom dropping a cool million on a pair of earrings is an everyday occurrence, live—private planes! private clubs! private islands!—in one of the world’s most extravagant, over-the-top cities. One of my dear friends is a Singapore native, and I fact-checked much the book with her—she says it’s very accurate to the 1% there and even knows the families upon whom the book is based.

I then watched the movie on a recent flight and was equally pleased by it. I suppose next up I’ll be reading the second and third installments of this trilogy—please tell me they’re as entertaining as the first?

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine

You know the kind of book you think is going to end one way, then midway through, you’re hit with a whammy and completely left off-guard? That’s The Last Mrs. Parrish to a tee. Amber Patterson is a con-artist who weasels her way into heiress Daphne Parrish’s world of excess by becoming her friend in Single White Female fashion—later going as far as trying to become her, attempting to take over her husband and her home. The book ping-pongs between narrators, both Amber and Daphne, and there’s really no way to tell you anymore of the plot of Amber’s metamorphosis into Daphne without spoiling any of the zingers, of which there are many. Go. Read. This. Book!

I’m really, really hoping The Last Mrs. Parrish gets made into a movie starring (or produced by) Reese Witherspoon.

This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

Oh my, I LOVED This Is How It Always Is. I didn’t know what it was about in the slightest, but so many people recommended it, that I immediately requested it from the library. Based on Frankel’s own experiences with having a boy who early on began identifying as a girl, this book chronicles a set of five brothers, the youngest of whom always felt different. When this feeling becomes evolves into exploration—wearing dresses, putting on makeup, playing with dolls—his parents begin to realize it’s more than just a phase. So they take steps to letting their son become their daughter by moving across the country and completely resetting their lives.

At the root of this story is the message that all families have issues, all families keep secrets—it’s how they choose to deal with them that sets them apart.

**********

Currently I’m reading The Paris Secret and A Gentleman in Moscow, neither of which have really grabbed my attention, but I’ve also got Bad Blood, Becoming, Pete Buttigieg’s Shortest Way Home and Far Away and Further Back, a memoir by my friend Holly’s dad. I guess it’s a non-fiction kind of reading month over here!

What have you read and loved so far this year?

from Camels & Chocolate: Travel & Lifestyles Blog http://bit.ly/2Ghl547

[nickelodeon-disneyreviewed]

16 Wishes Disney Channel Original Movie Reviewed

Because sure, I can post my most recent review, but it’s kinda lame for a first Tumblr post so have this half-year old review of a nearly decade-old DCOM instead.

16 Wishes DCOM Reviewed22 today, happy birthday sweetheart! What is it? Well, that's actually an interesting question.... It's classically thought of as a DCOM...even though strictly technically speaking it isn't (yes, that's right, it means Disney Channel's official Facebook page is wrong on this!) It's really a direct-to-DVD movie that Disney Channel just happened to pick up on very, very early during the production stage (before they even decided on a lead, hence how Debby became involved) due to Disney Channel's previous relationship (and ongoing relationship, for that matter) with Mar Vista studios through a number of actual DCOMs before and since. See folks, only on this blog will you learn new facts and grow your brain right in the introductory minutiae of each and every blog post! Where did it air? Well, again, continuing the above it's actually a bit complex. Technically it did indeed premiere on Disney Channel first, but it was originally intended for DVD sales/streaming to be the primary means of distribution. Of course now it's as closely associated with the network as any other DCOM and other than directly streaming it or getting the DVD it's the only place on "traditional" television you'll find it. Who stars in it? Most prominently, Debby Ryan, who became attached to the project as soon as Disney Channel decided to throw money at it. Jean-Luc Bilodeau plays second-billing Jay - you may recognize Jean-Luc (no, not that Jean-Luc) from not only the later Mar Vista-produced DCOM Zapped! but also from the somewhat short-lived Canadian/UPN (remember that network? Probably not) production Kyle-XY as the title character. Anna Mae Routledge is Celeste "the birthday fairy" and...yeah, this is actually the biggest role she's been in (she's been in another movie we've done a mini-review on...Eurotrip, maybe?) The only other notable role is Karissa Tynes as Krista. Abby's mom is played by the same actress who played an FBI agent in...Snakes on a Plane. Yeah, really. The principal is also "Chevron Guy" from Stargate: SG-1. There's also this really gorgeous ginger with these Marianas Trench-deep blue eyes but...uhh, we'll get to that at the end I guess. Why are we reviewing this? ...well, see, there are three or so key events that lead to the creation of this very blog, and 16 Wishes is one of them. One of those events would be of course the creation of GirlMeetsWorldReviewed.Blogspot.com which directly inspired the creation of this blog. But of course there'd be no point or even capability to make this blog without material to fill it up with. That's where 16 Wishes and other things come in. Another of those events, by far the most important one, is Phineas and Ferb - or more specifically, when I just happened to chance upon Phineas and Ferb (The Chronicles of Meep specifically - I need to, like, send flowers to Povenmire and Marsh for that one, it was a real chance of fate that happened to be the first episode I saw as it was superbly excellent if not outright sublime) one night when I was desperately searching for new programming to watch. And as I describe in both my Jessie and Liv and Maddie retrospectives, this was actually critical timing because at the time I was just a few weeks off from having my ex-fiancee break up with me and less than a week from recovering from cancer-removing surgery. And not only was Phineas and Ferb the perfect TV visual comfort food at the time, but it was an immediate gateway to more visual comfort food on the network and by extension Nickelodeon (the first episode of anything I've ever watched on Disney Channel aside from The Chronicles of Meep - immediately after the Chronicles of Meep, in fact - was the second replay of the then-premiere episode of Good Luck Charlie's T-Wrecks and given the emotional state I was in, I was actually really blown away by just how well done an all-inclusive family multi-cam sitcom it was - and that was immediately followed up by the second replay of the premiere of Jessie's Gotcha Day which, well, if you want to delude yourself that Jessie is a better show than it is there are few better episodes than that to dive into). Now, here's the thing - even at that point after about a month of watching I was still on the fence about the actual quality of Disney Channel shows and Jessie especially. By that I don't mean I would've given up watching the network forever and never ever speak of the great embarrassment of being an allegedly grown-ass adult watching Disney Channel, but my viewing habits probably would be a lot like they are today - oh hey, Good Luck Charlie's on, yeah I like that show. Oh hey it's Phineas and Ferb. Oh, hey Jessie's on...I wonder what Rick on Pawn Stars is trying to rip off today. But what ended up being the real tipping point to being dedicated as an allegedly grown-ass adult to this network and becoming a Jessie super-fan (or at least the closest thing that passes for it) is this movie. I think what really resonated with this movie, again given my emotional state, is the back half where Abby finds herself turned into an allegedly grown-ass adult. Even when you're in your early 20s (as Abby finds herself), well...I'm just going to quote the speech Abby's dad gives: But being grown up is different than dreaming about it, isn't it? We understand. Of course! You're scared that your childhood is over and with it all the best times of your life! You probably wanna turn back that clock and start over? Boy I know how that feels! ...and being in my 20s...and already having been engaged in marriage, and then seeing all that blow up in my face, and then finding out I have cancer, and then dropping out of school over it...yeah, that shit gets overwhelming. You spend a lot of time thinking about how not long ago all you needed to do was wake up and go to school and everything else is provided for you, and you all of a sudden find yourself in that same situation, just minus the school, and at least just old enough so that it all feels familiar but at the same time a bit weird. Nostalgia is not perfect, and it can even be a dangerous thing - I've dedicated very large portions of this very blog about how nostalgia effectively stunted if not outright ruined Girl Meets World from its very conception. But we keep coming back to it because it's comfortable. Girl Meets World was greenlit and conceived, arguably, because it was a return to a very comfortable concept, a concept that was successful in its heyday and it was thought would be successful because that previous success had grown itself into its fanbase to provide comfort (again, Christian and Sean have talked about the comfort aspect of the original show). And when you're in a position where comfort starts being medicine, nostalgia is a very powerful thing to go back to. My point being, girls who were 16 but accidentally wish themselves to be 22 as they walk out of a store dressing room and wishing they can just go back to school and live with their parents again and guys who actually are 22 (well, older than that even) but got kicked out of their fiancee's life so hard they apparently literally got cancer over it and had to move back in with their parents have a lot in common with each other. Of course, that's just my perspective. But also keep in mind that apparently this little movie gave Debby enough clout, at least on the network, to where Disney Channel ultimately decided to greenlight her own show which of course became the 101-episode (not 98!) long series Jessie. No, really, it got one of the highest adult demos of its night. It's really my theory that this message about childhood nostalgia, whether intended or not, proved to be a big hit with Millennials. I mean, think about it. We're supposedly the "never grow up" generation - we have high unemployment, low independent housing, yadda yadda. Abby's words about feeling like we're 16 and then suddenly 22 and needing a job and a means to afford our own place and take care of ourselves have become themes of a generation. And I'm not saying this as an insult to Millennials (being one myself of course) but that no doubt it happened to previous generations too - Gen X'ers, Baby Boomers, what have you as they suddenly find themselves transitioning from a school-focused work ethic to suddenly being in the actual work force. It's an increasingly universal theme as the world marches towards mechanization and now digitization, but it's a theme that's been rather under-represented in all but tween through young adult media. But enough of me waxing nostalgic and complaining about my personal life again, how does it rate as a movie? Well, Abby's a brat through the first part (then again that's the point) and then we kinda see her cartoon-mature and she grows up, yadda yadda. Debby's not bad at all in it, Jean-Luc captains his way through it equally respectably, Karissa is very much underappreciated, Chevron Guy makes for the second ultra-nerdy sci-fi reference in this very sentence and again if you've seen the movie you probably know who I'm talking about when I talk about this curly-hair ginger girl with these sapphire-forged eyes who's, like, so gorgeous I'd go through another round of chemo for, like I will forget about my lousy ex for her, yadda yadda. Even when trying to emotionally divorce oneself it's a pretty competent movie, and Lord knows there've been quite a few official DCOMs that don't measure up to this one (the vastly overrated Cowbelles, Teen Beach 2, yes Invisible Sister) Movie Grade: B-. Like I said, it's at least competent and enjoyable enough it deserves this. Movie MVP: That ridiculously gorgeous blue-eyed ginger, of course, for completely memorizing me in the two or three scenes she's in including the one scene where she gasps, which is the closest speaking role she has. ...just kidding, although I really do think she deserves more recognition (seriously, I don't think gingers get enough recognition for how beautiful they are, as I've again shared on this very blog before). But really, it's obviously going to be Debby, duh. This is the performance that convinced the network to give her Jessie, after all. Extra Thoughts: - Of course after mentioning that last part I guess I'm obligated to again remind you that my ex-fiancee herself is a ginger so I'm biased (and again, Debby became a fake ginger for the Jessie role so, there). - Speaking of Cowbelles, both that and 16 Wishes feature the song Don't Wanna Grow Up by the band Willknots - Uuugggh Disney Channel commercials from April leading up to the RDMAs are soooo laaaaaame. But I probably only think this because the RDMAs themselves are after-the-fact old news now. - here's a bit of trivia for you: after wishing to become popular, Abby claims that the dads of some girls are planning her birthday party in Las Vegas as they happen to own half of that town. This implies that they're direct descendants of Howard Hughes who quite literally owned half of Vegas (though it's honestly doubtful the writers really knew this at the time). - Abby's driver's license information is the following: ID #073 477 657; Class D (do note that most 16 year olds start off with a Class C license which legally permits them to drive most normal passenger cars - being too lazy to Google it, I don't even know if "Class D" is a thing); no endorsements (minor fun fact: yours truly, the author of this blog, has one endorsement: M, giving legal permission to operate motorcycles); no restrictions; Code 776-36A (whatever that means) and lists her DOB as 7/7/95 (which implies that the movie takes place very specifically on July 7, 2011 - almost exactly 11 months into the future of its original Disney Channel premiere date - and is also contradicted by the fact that in parts of the movie everyone's breath is obviously visible and many trees remain bare as they probably shot it in late February or early March of 2010) and her height as being 5'6" (which is Debby's actual height) and just as Celeste the Birthday Fairy says, the license doesn't expire - The design of the "Coastal State" license plate on Abby's car also implies this takes place in Oregon even though her license actually refers to "Coastal State" as the actual name of the state. - Abby's school, Walnut Grove, is a real school in the Vancouver area where the movie was shot. It's a private school and you can see on their website they're very proud of being the filming location for 16 Wishes. Their mascot actually is the Gators, BTW (as displayed on the school bus and Abby's lifetime lunch pass, which is modeled after the actual Walnut Grove lunch pass. Yes, I go deep into this for you - only on this blog!) - Yeah, I am waaaay behind on Andi Mack. I was hoping to binge on the backlog of episodes up to the latest today for my birthday but...yeah, forget that. We'll be resuming Andi Mack reviews tomorrow. Hopefully. - And obviously this is Part 2 of our Birthday Blog posts today, so, Happy Birthday Debby! (And Happy Birthday Me!)

[bethevenyc]

What This 66-Year-Old Model Learned on a Commune: 'Women Bring the Joy to the Table'

Cindy Joseph is a model, makeup CEO, and inspiration to women of all ages. (Photo: Heather Westin)

After more than two decades as a professional makeup artist who worked with top models around the country, Cindy Joseph, found herself in an alternate reality: in front of the camera instead of behind it.

That’s because a casting agent approached her on the street — when Joseph was just shy of 50 — wanting her to pose for a Dolce & Gabbana campaign to be shot by Steven Meisel. She was surprised but not deterred, and thus began Joseph’s flourishing, late-in-life career with Ford Models, which has made her the face of brands from J. Crew to Olay, Aveda, and Ann Taylor — always recognizable by her proud mane of silver hair.

Now, at 66, she’s also the CEO of Boom by Cindy Joseph, a pared-down, “pro-age” skin and cosmetics line consisting of natural moisturizers and color sticks.

So how did someone in the thick of the beauty industry become known for her all-natural look, her embracement of aging, and an outlook on life that is downright crunchy?

You could start by crediting her free-and-easy California upbringing, but those roots were only further strengthened through an adult experience: living as part of a commune for nearly six years. The intentional community — Lafayette Moorehouse, founded in 1968 and still going strong — first counted Joseph as a resident in 1999, when she lived for several years at its Yonkers, NY, outpost. Most recently, she spent time living at its original Lafayette, Calif. location with her husband Bruce, a semi-retired contractor, now the CFO and COO of Boom, whom she married in an intimate ceremony just four years ago, with her two grown children on hand to celebrate.

Cindy Joseph. (Photo: Chuck Baker)

The newlyweds recently settled into a new home in Cold Spring, NY, to be closer to East Coast friends and family — prompting Yahoo Beauty to chat with Joseph about all things beautiful and healthy, and the idea of finding pleasure in everything you do.

You learned a lot from your time on the commune. What can you tell us about the “pleasure principal” approach to life you nurtured there?

We live in a pain oriented society. In a nutshell, that means we relate with each other over pain — we can complain to our neighbors, friends, or strangers about how horrible the weather is or our health is, then they jump in and start complaining, too, and the conversation goes on forever. If you talk to someone about your success, or how well life is going, they might say, “Oh, that’s great.” But if you go on for very long, they become suspicious, like, why are they telling me this, are they bragging? What’s going on?

Another example is how, if you have a job and you’re working and your mother dies, it’s “take the week off, no problem.” You got stuck in traffic and have a flat tire? No problem. Sick? No problem. But if you said, “This is the first sunny day we’ve had in three months and I’m going to the beach,” they’d be like, “Well don’t bother coming back.” The more this was explained to me, the more I was like, “wow.”

Cindy Joseph in a D&G ad. (Photo: Dolce & Gabbana)

  Then [the folks at the commune] described how women are pleasure-oriented and men are goal-oriented, and that’s just how we’re wired. My whole life I felt like I wasn’t disciplined enough, focused enough, wasn’t enough like a guy. And when they said, “You are pleasure-oriented,” I felt like the shackles had been cut free… Women bring the party to the table — we bring the joy, the fun, and men respond to it. And your sexual orientation doesn’t matter. [The commune founders] discovered that when the women weren’t happy, everyone was miserable. So I decided I was going to start living my life according to pleasure — which they decided is a really strict discipline, as you have to really tune in, slow down, and pay attention to what feels good.

How did you work on this discipline?

I started taking better care of myself — taking bubble baths, paying attention to what I was eating. Instead of racing through the day with all these goals, I stopped to smell the roses. And the more I did that the more my persona really changed. That’s when I threw away the bottle of dye and let my hair grow out, and started enjoying my age.

Why do you think that’s such a challenge for most women of a certain age?

As we stand in front of the mirror, which is where we usually stand to criticize ourselves and fix, fix, fix, [the women of the commune] taught me to stand in front of the mirror and find something I could approve of, even if it was one small thing — my right eyebrow arch, my cryptic smile, my front tooth, my ankle, whatever you can find. And what’s fascinating about that is as soon as you find one thing right and approve of it, you suddenly see something else and something else. Women become more beautiful under approving attention — “Oh, your hair’s so pretty!” “You’ve got such a cute smile!” “Wow, that was a very profound thought you just shared with me!” We come alive, we eat it up — it’s delicious to us. It’s what started happening to me.

Cindy Joseph. (Photo: Heather Westin)

And what were the immediate effects?

I mean, I certainly didn’t fit the status quo of the modeling world. I was 49 years old — I was under five-foot eight, my hair was gray. Hello! I had crow’s feet! I had all those things, and was approached on the street and asked to model. I was in studios all my life and no one had ever said I should get in front of a camera.

Lafayette Moorehouse seems to have a nagging reputation as being a sex cult…

I like to say, “Yes, I got this tattoo, and they injected me with this weird stuff, and I’m part of the cult.” It’s so ridiculous, but people are nervous and, back to pleasure, hedonism, “the devil” — it’s gotten a really, really bad rap for a couple centuries, in our country as well as England… But I’m following me and I’m following what I’m interested in, and if everyone did the same and put more attention on their own path than everybody else’s, we’d probably be getting along much better.

It was so much fun living there, and you could talk about what you wanted everyday, including sensuality and sexuality. [In our society] there’s sex everywhere, porn everywhere, yet if you sit down and really talk about it in a practical manner, people get all squirmy. I loved that it was just as normal as brushing your teeth.

(Photo: Melanie Acevedo)

Are you still modeling at all?

I just came back from a four-day shoot for Coolibar SPF sunscreen clothing, and I was just up for a couple campaigns, one for Buick, one for Nivea, but I’m slowing it down a bit, because I’m focusing on other things. I don’t need to model for a living anymore, I’m making a living from running my company. But I still think it’s really import for women of my age to be in advertising, for women of all ages, so I’m continuing for that reason. I’m just not accepting as many jobs.

How do you square your all-natural hippie vibe with modeling and beauty, which seem incompatible?

I love that question! I’ve thought about it a lot, because [for much of my life] I rejected hair and makeup and all of that, and had hairy legs and hairy underarms. And then I started thinking about humankind, and how we’ve been decorating our bodies from day one — with piercing and scarring and tattoos and braiding — and we have been playing dress-up for a very, very long time. So when people say it’s not natural, I think it’s very natural. However, the motivation behind what we’re doing has changed — at least in Western society — and it’s about fixing something that’s wrong, rather than celebrating what we already are and have. We’re doing it to try to fix flaws and conceal things, and that’s the part I don’t agree with. And I won’t take jobs that are based on that premise. I won’t do it. I have never done a hair-dye job, I have never done anti-aging skin cream.

When I decided to be a makeup artist I thought, I’m going to get into the very industry that played with and challenged my self image and my self-esteem — and if I’m in the position where I have credibility in the world of beauty, people are going to listen to me more seriously than if I’m just Jane Doe down the street criticizing all those models and the fashion industry. I can now say I was behind the scenes, I’ve worked with all the famous models, I know how long it took to make them look like they had flawless complexions. And they’re all people, and they have the same highs and lows and challenges and emotional pain and joys that everybody has. And people listen to me, because I have the credibility. So it’s a powerful position, with a lot of responsibility.

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