#I feel like we’ve passed peak mash

[lgbt4077]

hey do you guys remember when we would post about mash

[moonstruckme]

Omg yay I love that slightly dirty man!! I was wondering if you’d be willing to do something along the lines of a flower shop au situation, where Carmy is obv still a chef but reader works/owns a place nearby and they end up seeing each other a lot and so on and so forth but also I will devour literally anything about that man so wherever your heart takes you I’m 100% on board <3

He is perfectly dirty! Thanks for requesting babe <3

Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

It’s peak hours, and your shop is completely empty. You’re leaning against the counter by the register, mashing your fingers into your temples and praying to whoever will listen for the noise next door to stop. 

It’s some sort of fire alarm, blaring from the shitshow construction zone you’re lucky enough to neighbor. It’s been going since nine this morning. It’s after noon now. No customers will stay long enough to buy anything, not even your regulars who come in looking for a specific book. At this point, you need to either get out of here or get a lobotomy. You head for the side door. 

It’s a bad idea. The noise is worse outside, but you’re committed now. You walk paces up and down the alley, blowing puffs of air that cloud in the cold and rubbing your arms because you left your coat inside. You’ve already walked the alley twice when you see him, bare-armed as you but smoking a cigarette like this temperature is just right. 

“Hey,” you say, too irritated to be embarrassed, “what the hell is going on in there?”

Carmy shrugs, taking the cig from the corner of his mouth. “The fire alarm won’t stop going off.” Smoke rises into the air as he talks. 

“I know. Are you going to do anything about it?” 

“We’ve got people on it.” 

That’ll mean the Faks, you suppose. You wish this was something you could rage about, but Neil’s a nice guy. He came over to help you board up your window when it broke during a hailstorm last year, and when you brought him a coffee he acted like the beans came from the Garden of Eden. 

You take a breath, trying to chill out. “So, are you guys all losing your shit in there?” 

Carmy shrugs again. He never really looks at you, you’ve noticed, just sort of near you as if that’s as close as his eyes can get. “Some more than others,” he says. “I don’t mind it.” 

“You don’t mind?” you laugh, incredulous. “You must be insane.” 

He turns his head to the side, something unidentifiable passing over his expression as he takes a drag. “I know.” 

You get the feeling you’ve taken a misstep. You need to say something nice, remind him you’re on the same team. You kick the overflowing dumpster next to you lamely. “Can you believe this shit? They’ve skipped us for two weeks straight now.” 

Carmy nods, relaxing somewhat. “It’s bullshit.”

“If they miss us again, I’m gonna have to start bringing our trash to other dumpsters or something. I don’t even know.” 

“They won’t miss us again. I’ve got someone making a call.” 

You grin. “What are you, part of the mob or something?” 

Carmy looks almost like he might be thinking about smiling. You have the urge to take a picture. “My family is Italian,” he says. 

“Oh, I know. Richie’s definitely brought it up.” 

Carmy blows smoke out, shaking his head in a way you suspect might be fond. “Richie’s not even Italian.” 

“Seriously?” A laugh stutters out of you. The wailing siren has faded into the background. You feel lighter than you have all day. “He’s the most Italian guy I’ve ever met.” 

“Yeah, he definitely thinks he is.” 

You look at Carmy for a moment. There’s always this tautness about him, like he’s perpetually ready to run or punch someone. Right now he’s as close to casual as he ever gets, hunched against the alley wall, but however he’s acting you can see the raised hairs of goosebumps on his biceps. His tattooed, very large biceps. You look away before you can get swept away by that line of thinking. 

“Well, even though the noise doesn’t bother you, do you wanna get away from it for a sec?” you ask casually. “It’s not so loud in here. You can barely hear it in the back room.” 

“Seriously?” Carmy’s looking at you as though this may be some sort of trap. He’s looking at you, and without explanation the world seems to sharpen into startling clarity. You’re suddenly conscious of your heartbeat. “Uh, yeah.” He glances behind him, seemingly wary of one of his coworkers coming out to stop him. “That’d be cool.” 

“Okay.” You open the door, nodding to his cigarette. “You can’t bring that in here, though. I don’t need it smelling up my books.” 

“Right, yeah.” He snuffs it half-smoked on the alley wall. There’s a slightly awkward moment where it seems like he’s trying to grab the door for you even though you’re already holding it open, but after a second he ducks inside, something that might be embarrassment stiffening his shoulders. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” You let the door swing shut behind you, leading him towards one of the plush couches in the back room. “We’ve got to do what we can to keep each other sane around here, right? A crazy neighbor would be bad for business.”

[janeyseymour]

So Thankful

For my dear friend Ay: I don’t think I followed the prompt all that well and I definitely had ideas that didn’t make it into it because I knew what I wanted to write, but then I forgot them... so this is what we’re working with. I hope you enjoy dear friend!

Thanksgiving was always chaotic in the house of the queens. The first year that they were back was quite confusing to all of them.

“Hey Lina?” Jane beckoned the first queen over to where she was standing at the calendar.

“What’s up Jane?”

“Do you know what Thanksgiving is?” She pointed at the word written across that day.

“Oh! I do!” Anne bounced in from the living room. “So, it started when America became colonized in the 1600s by Britain. The pilgrims had a feast. Well, a while later, Lincoln, America’s 16th president, declared it a day. In 1789, the congress passed it as a national holiday that is celebrated every November on the fourth Thursday. It’s a day where families get together and eat. They typically go around the table before their meals and ask what everyone is thankful for. To me, it’s kind of silly that that’s what the holiday has come down to considering the rich history of it, but-”

“We’re celebrating it. We all have so much to be thankful for, and we need to recognize it.”

“Cool. I’ll tell the others.” Anne ran upstairs, her small footsteps sounding like a herd of elephants as she called for the others.

“Wait! Anne!” Jane called. “What are we supposed to eat?”

“Turkey! Stuffing! Cornbread! Corn! Vegetables! Mashed potatoes! Mac n Cheese! But not the boxed kind- homemade. You know, that kind of stuff. And dessert! Pies! Pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie! All the dessert!”

Catherine glanced at Jane in confusion.

“I guess when she says she reads, she’s really not lying,” Jane offered with a shrug of her shoulders.

-

And so, here the queens were, a few years later. Not only had they kept up on their tradition of having a Thanksgiving feast, but this year, they had new additions to the meal. 

“So, if you’d like, you’re more than welcome to come over for Thanksgiving. I know Becky, Dawn and Ogie are in town too, and they’re more than welcome to join! The more the merrier!” Jane smiled into the phone. 

“Oh girl, that’d be great. I’ll bring the pies for dessert. What time do you guys normally start eating?”

“We try to have everything set on the table by 3, but you know how that can be. So, it’s usually all done around 5. But you guys are more than welcome to come over at any time that day!”

“Great! And Lu is always more than welcome to come hang out while we do all this stuff if you want her out of your hair.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear that,” Jenna couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

-

Thanksgiving day had come, and the queens house was nothing if not chaotic.

“Anne Boleyn, out of my kitchen!” Jane had screeched for the thousandth time that day. All she was trying to do at this point was make the stuffing with her youngest cousin.

“Janey, I’m just trying to-”

“I know you’re trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but you can’t keep opening and closing the oven door or the turkey is never going to be done! Why don’t you go help Anna?” Anne nodded and bounced down to the basement where they had set up a make-shift kitchen for the fourth queen.

“Hey Jane?” Kat said slowly.

“What?” the blonde hissed, a bit more bark in her voice than she would have liked.

“I cut myself.” The pink haired queen displayed her finger.

“Go clean yourself up. I’m pretty sure Aragon is done with the vegetables for now, so I’ll see if she can help with the stuffing.” Jane put her head in her hands. Of course this would happen. It wasn’t a holiday if Kat didn’t accidentally cut her finger trying to slice bread. 

The fifth queen nodded and walked upstairs, only to have her body in the kitchen replaced with the golden queen’s.

“How ever did I expect this to happen?” Catherine grinned, rubbing a hand on Jane’s shoulder on her way to Kat’s station. She grabbed a new knife and continued on with the bread cutting. “Relax Jane. It’s all going to be okay. And think of it this way: Jenna’s in charge of dessert this year, so that’s one less thing you have to worry about.”

“You’re right, but with the-” Jane counted in her head. “-six extra mouths to feed, we have to really up our game and make double what we usually make. And Jenna’s pregnant.”

“Hey, you know Dawn and Lu eat like birds. Together, they make up one of our mouths.” The doorbell rang. “Speaking of, there’s Lu now.” The two motherly queens walked to the door, and peaked their heads out.

“What’s the password?” Jane allowed herself to be silly for a moment.

“Aunt Janey! And Lina!” Lulu bounced from her spot on her mother’s hip. She squirmed to be let down, eliciting a giggle from the two women in the house.

“She’s been up and begging to come over since five this morning.”

“I was up anyway. Tried to start on the turkey before Hurricane Anne was awake, but she came bouncing down five minutes later. We would’ve let her come.”

“See Mama? I told you Aunt Janey would’ve been up!” 

“Come on in little Lu! We’ve got your apron all ready for you, and I’m sure Annie will be so excited to hear that you’re finally here! She’s been asking about you all morning.” What Jane had said wasn’t far from the truth. Questions about when their little friend would join them began at approximately eight in the morning.

“Be good for your girls!” the baker called out to her daughter who was already bouncing down the queens’ steps to the basement.

“She always is. How are the pies coming along?” Catherine made conversation with the woman.

“Dawn, Becky, and I made 'em up last night. Told the boys they were in charge of putting them in the oven, so they should be almost done!”

“Great. Did you want to come in and have a glass of wine or something?”

“I’d love to, but I promised the idiots at home I’d only be a few minutes. And, I don't entirely trust Ogie and Jim not to burn down my kitchen. I know Becky and Dawn-” Jenna laughed as she remembered the time Becky almost set their diner on fire. “-well, Dawn, could handle it, but not without having a full blown panic attack.”

“I’ve got you. Sounds like you have a couple hurricanes at your house right now.”

“That I do. But now, you’ve got... all of your hurricanes and my little hurricane.”

“She’s never a problem Jenna. I promise you, we all love having her around.”

“If she gets to be too much, let me know and I’ll swing by and grab her until dinner.”

“Appreciate it, but you won’t need to. See you at four?”

“See you at four,” the baker affirmed.

-

“Lulu Pomatter!” the blonde called to the basement, already a bit tense after the antics that morning.

“What Aunt Janey? I’m trying to help Anna decide how much cheese to put on the mac n’ cheese! And the potatoes!”

“Hun, you just need your apron.”

“Oh!” Lulu ran up the steps and allowed Jane to help her into the clothing.

“Your mama wouldn't be too happy if I returned you with food all over you knowing you have a perfectly good apron here, now would she?” the third queen muttered as she tied the piece of cloth around the little girl.

“Thank you!” the girl with pigtails squeezed her surrogate aunt and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek before running back downstairs to help Anna and-

“Annie! Stop eating the macaroni!”

“Oh good god,” Jane muttered to herself as she and the first queen continued to cut bread.

-

“Is the turkey almost done?” Anne made her way up the steps with Lulu on her hip.

“No, it’s not. And if you don't want Jane yelling at you again, I suggest you get yourself out of the kitchen,” Aragon responded, not looking up from the book she was reading.

“But I just want to see if-” the green queen cracked the oven door open slightly.

“Anne Boleyn! Close that oven door right now!” Jane’s voice could be heard from the bathroom.

“How did she know?” Lulu whispered, confused. The silver queen wasn’t in the kitchen.

“I swear, she’s got a sixth sense. Maybe she should’ve gone down in history as a witch, not me.” Aragon let out a snort- she wasn’t expecting that to come out of her successor’s mouth.

-

“Aunt Janey?” Lulu watched as the third queen flitted around the kitchen, setting out various dishes on the table.

“What’s up love?” Jane slowed down just a bit to get a look at the sweet girl in front of her. Her heart pained a little, feeling the absence of her son who she so dearly wished was celebrating this holiday with them.

“Could I help set the table?”

“Of course honey! You know where all of the silverware is.” Jane nodded in the direction of the drawer anyway.

-

“Aunt Janey?”

“Yes dear?” Jane didn't turn around from the gravy she was whisking, but she made sure to let the girl know she was listening. 

“Where’s Cathy?”

“Oh, I think she’s up in her room writing some. Do you want to go see her?”

“Can I?”

“I’m sure she would love the company. And maybe, you can pry her away from her work for a little bit.”

“Do you think she might want to read my book with me? I got it at the library! It’s about Thanksgiving!”

“Why don’t we go ask her?” Jane motioned for the girl to follow her up the steps and knocked on the writer’s door.

“Yeah?” Cathy called.

“You’ve got a little munchkin wanting to visit. Think you could tear yourself away from that screen for a-”

“Cath! It’s me! It’s Lulu! Can I come in?”

The door swung open almost instantly. “If I had known you were here, I would’ve come down!” The little girl made grabbing hands towards the queen dressed in blue. 

-

“Hey Lu? Cath?” Jane was standing at the door she had been in front of an hour before. “Dinner’s almost ready. Do you guys want to-”

“Aunt Janey! Look!” The door whizzed open, revealing Lulu, Cathy, Anne, Anna, and Kat all in paper hats covered in glitter, no doubt supplied by the fifth queen. 

“We made you, Lina, Mama, Daddy, Dawn, Becky, and Ogie hats too! And Cathy wrote a play for us to all put on after dinner!”

-

“Hi!” Lulu opened the door for her family, sparkling hat on top of her head.

“Hey guys,” Jane nodded as she opened the door wider for the group to come in, a paper hat with silver sparkles covering much of her blonde hair. 

“Holy moly!” Anne came sprinting over, seeing the three pies that Jenna was balancing along with the two pies in Jim’s hand and one that Dawn was holding. “How many pies did you make?”

“A shit ton,” Becky laughed.

“So you’re Becky?” Anne grinned, knowing that the bold woman was indeed Becky. The queens had heard enough stories to know which woman was which. 

“You’re damn right I’m Becky. And Dawn here, she’s the quietest of us all. Get a couple drinks in ‘er though and-”

“Becky!” Dawn gasped.

“Alright girls, that’s enough for now,” Jenna ordered in her “mom tone”, as the two waitresses liked to call it.

“Lu, are you forgetting to give them their hats?” Catalina, the woman with such regality, had a paper hat decorated with gold sparkles.

“Oh yeah! So, while Aunt Janey and Lina were finishing up with dinner, me and the rest of my girls-”

“The girls and me,” Jim corrected gently.

“-Gosh Daddy. The rest of my girls and me,” she moaned unceremoniously. “Made hats for everyone! Like the pilgrims! And Kat had sparkles and glitter, so we decorated them! Annie told me they all had colors assigned to them for the show they were in, so they kept their colors! Lina is gold, Annie is green, Aunt Janey is silver, Anna is red, Kat is pink of course, and Cathy is dark blue! I made you three-” she handed the women their hats. “-light blue because of the uniforms at my diner. Daddy is black glitter, and Ogie too.” She handed the men their hats.

-

“Alright guys, what are we all thankful for?” Jane looked at the group expectantly.

“Isn’t it right that you start Janey?” Anne looked at her.

“I guess. Okay, well I’m thankful for the roof over our heads, and the food that is about to

be in my stomach. I’m thankful that Anne hasn’t burned the house down yet. And, I’m thankful for all of you. You're the best family that I’ve got. Thank you for helping get this dinner together, and for overall just always being there for me when I need it. Okay, who’s next?”

-

“Good god, I’m so full,” Anne remarked as she unbuttoned her pants.

“Must you do that every year?” Catherine didn’t even try to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“I hope you’re not too full, because I brought six pies.”

“Which ones?” Anne’s eyes lit up.

-

“Good god, I’m so full,” Anne yawned. “I don't know how you do it Jenna, but all of those pies were amazing.” The second queen had, in fact, helped herself to a slice of each and every pie the baker had brought.

-

Jane and Jenna had the littlest girl laying across their laps. Jim was happy to sit on the couch arm, an arm wrapped around his wife. Anne was curled into Jane’s other side, happy to be small enough to fit on the couch next to Katherine. Aragon was sitting in her recliner, Cathy perched on one couch arm, and Anna was more than happy to lay on the floor, blanket draped over her. Ogie and Dawn found their positions sitting in front of the couch, Becky above them. The hats had been carefully laid down on the kitchen table to be put away for next year.

They had cleaned up and were now watching a movie the little girl requested, but as she fell asleep, the adults began to chat and reminisce.

“I can’t believe we’re lucky enough to spend this holiday all together,” Jenna smiled. “For a long time, Thanksgiving was just Becky, Dawn, and me. But this- this is really great.”

“It’s only gotten better because you decided to join in on the chaos this year.” Jane nudged the baker. “Thank you again for the pies by the way. I’m sure they’ll be gone before the weekend because of someone.” She cast a knowing glance at the green queen curled up into her side.

“So, here’s a weird question for you,” Dawn giggle, a few glasses of wine in. “What’s the best thing that you didn’t have in the 1500s?”

“Comfortable chairs,” Catalina smiled. How she hated sitting in that uncomfortable throne for the twenty-four years she was queen.

“Shoes with wheels in them,” Anne laughed, knowing the third queen would groan.

“Comfortable clothing. I hated those stupid ass corsets we had to wear. I couldn’t work out in them!” Cleves threw in.

“Phones. I love having all of the music in the world in my hand,” Kat added without looking up from her phone.

“Computers. It was so hard physically writing everything down then. Now, if I make a mistake, I can just press the backspace.”

“Jane? You’re awful quiet.” The room’s attention turned towards the blonde, who looked up with tears in her eyes.

“The best thing that I didn’t have in the 1500s was you guys. I’m so thankful for each and every one of you.”

[isaarchive]

The Story Behind Every Song on Linkin Park’s ‘Hybrid Theory’: 20th Anniversary Track-By-Track

The group's Mike Shinoda and Joe Hahn dive deep into the diamond-selling classic, sharing how smashes like "In The End," "Crawling" and "One Step Closer" came together in the studio.

By Jason Lipshutz

“It was a bizarre, but very special, moment in time.” That’s how Linkin Park’s Mike Shinoda describes the release of the band’s seminal debut, Hybrid Theory, one of the best-selling rock albums of all time.

Upon the album’s Oct. 24, 2000 release, the members of Linkin Park were in their early twenties -- “just children, screwing around,” as Shinoda affectionately describes the group’s early days in the Los Angeles suburbs. With Shinoda and Chester Bennington sharing the frontman role, Linkin Park offered a bold progression on the strand of rap-rock that had bubbled up the charts in the late ‘90s. They often delineated the rapping and singing duties between vocalists and carefully balancing hard rock riffs from guitarist Brad Delson with hip-hop-style beats from drummer Rob Bourdon and turntablist/DJ/programmer Joe Hahn.

The band’s mixture of rap and rock was approached with some skepticism from their label, Warner Bros. Records, and their producer, Don Gilmore. Yet as soon as “One Step Closer,” Hybrid Theory's blistering lead single, became a top 10 hit at U.S. alt-rock radio, those doubts were quickly alleviated.

“When I grew up, you were either a rock kid or a rap kid, but you didn’t listen to blended music, really,” Shinoda recalls. “I was so excited when Rage Against The Machine came out, and Red Hot Chili Peppers, or when I found Led Zeppelin by listening to Beastie Boys. There were things that were out there that took from varying styles of music and put them together, but they were not the norm at all. And to have played a role in mashing styles together, that is, for us, part of our legacy that we’re proud of.”

Indeed, Hybrid Theory remains a touchstone of the time period: the album has sold a whopping 10.8 million copies to date, according to Nielsen Music/MRC Data, and produced singles that have remained alternative radio staples for decades. “In The End,” the brilliantly rendered signature anthem that mixes rap verses and a melodic hard rock chorus, peaked at No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, while “Crawling” earned Linkin Park its first Grammy award. The album would kick-start a career that produced seven total albums, 28.8 million total copies sold, and countless arena performances, until the tragic passing of Bennington in 2017.

Now, the band is looking back on its landmark debut with Hybrid Theory: 20th Anniversary Edition, a new collection featuring previously unreleased demos, B-sides, rarities, DVDs and the long-sought-after fan favorite track from the time period, “She Couldn’t,” among many other things. The multiple configurations of the boxed set -- including a Super Deluxe Edition with 5 CDs, 3 LPs and 3 DVDs -- will be released on Friday (Oct. 9); in addition, Sirius XM has launched a limited-run music channel “Linkin Park Radio” on Oct. 5 to commemorate the anniversary.

“It’s a nice time to pause and think and focus on what it took to make that record, the impact it had, and the opportunity it allowed us to continue with our careers,” Hahn tells Billboard. “For me, it’s a testament to the camaraderie between all the guys in the band, to our friendship, to our work ethic, to the values in how we approached not just making music, but the business of making music, and the way we interact with our fans.”

In separate interviews, Shinoda and Hahn shared their memories of all 12 songs on the standard edition of Hybrid Theory, from the biggest hits that the album spawned to the deep cuts that hold a special place in their hearts. Check out their track-by-track remembrance of Linkin Park’s Hybrid Theory below.

1. “Papercut”

MIKE SHINODA: To me, the two songs that were the most important were “Papercut” and “In The End.” “Papercut” was all of the identity of the band packed into one song. Even the fact that it started with that beat, and it went straight into a double-time bouncy rap with heavy guitars, the fact that Chester was rapping with me on the chorus -- you can’t even hear him because of the mix, it sounds like it’s just him but it’s actually both of us.

When you got to the bridge, that soaring, huge vocal! And we didn’t come back to a chorus at the end of it, it was a unique song structure. I feel like it checked a lot of the boxes in terms of what the band was really about. And we knew, from the moment we had the song, we knew it needed to open the album.

JOE HAHN: “Papercut” at the time was one of my favorites. We were really trying to mash up styles, and I think we did that pretty successfully. The idea of bringing the breakbeat element that hip-hop has, I think we got pretty cool vibe when we intertwined the guitar riffs with the drum break on that song. The album’s called Hybrid Theory because it represents that ideal.

SHINODA: There was a weird thing with the singles on this album. Technically, there were three singles: it was “One Step Closer,” “Crawling” and “In The End.” And then there was a European single, which was “Papercut.” The reason was that “Crawling” was still going strong at radio in the States, but the European radio market moves faster, so they’d already burned through two singles and they needed a third one. [The label] basically wanted to time it out so that the European market had a third single, and then we could go worldwide with “In The End.” They were like, “We want everything to culminate with ‘In The End,’” and the momentum ended up working out that way.

2. “One Step Closer”

SHINODA: In choosing Don Gilmore as a producer, we were really hesitant. Don had more of these radio-alternative songs, and we knew that he would get that part of our sound right, but he knew nothing about hip-hop. Not a thing! And he said that to us when he met with us. He was like, ‘Here’s the deal, the part of your sound that I can’t contribute to is the hip-hop part. I know that’s a big part of your thing. But I like how you do it, so I will try to just get out of the way in terms of the beats and raps and stuff, I will leave that to you.’ And we were like, ‘Okay!’ And that worked out great, because we didn’t know how to mic up and engineer a rock band in the studio. We didn’t know how to arrange, how to multi-track guitar and vocals, in a way that sounded like what we heard on the radio that we loved. So that was all us learning from Don.

As we got into it, we did have these real tense points of conflict, because since he was hands-off on some of the creative in terms of letting us dictate how the hybrid was supposed to work, when somebody from the label came in and said, “I don’t like what they’re doing with mashing up these things,” or if they came in and said “I’m not sure about the rapping,” then all of a sudden Don couldn’t definitively defend it. He was like, “Uh, okay, well, that’s what the band thinks sounds good!” The power struggle became part of what making that album was. Some of the intensity and frustration you hear on the album is specifically album-related.

“One Step Closer” was me and Chester literally writing about Don. We were so mad at him. The ‘shut up’ riff was literally Chester screaming at Don. We were losing our minds. At that point in the process, it was just like, why don’t you trust us? This is our album. Our A&R guy doesn’t have to have his f--king name on the front of the CD, and play this music onstage everyday. We knew, if we put anything on this record that we don’t like or that we’re not feeling, we’re gonna have to live with it. Like, this is our career!

HAHN: I feel like, at that time, that was our loudest song, which turned into the first single. In making that record, we weren’t completely understood by the record label, mainly because there was a categorization of what bucket you fit in. Being a rock band but trying to have a firm foundation with our hip-hop and electronic influence that we bring to the music. The formats were alternative rock and active rock at the time. I remember the label at one point asked us to have less rapping, and less scratching. If you actually listen to the radio edits of that song from when it first came out, they took out the scratching on the bridge of the song, which I found kind of annoying and unnecessary.

SHINODA: The “shut up” part in the bridge, I know one of my reference points was “F--k you, I won’t do what you tell me” [from Rage Against The Machine’s "Killing in the Name"], and we wanted a part like that in one of our songs. And we were in the studio writing and re-writing “One Step Closer,” and eventually we got so mad that Chester was just writing words down about how mad he was at Don for making us rewrite s--t. And eventually he wrote down “Shut up” and I was like, “What if the bridge is just ‘Shut up’? What if it’s simpler than anything we’ve said so far?” Because we were just writing out lyrics. And he was like, “I think that’s gonna sound awesome!”

We went in and told Don, “Put up ‘One Step Closer,’ we wanna record the bridge.” He was like “Well, tell me what it is.” And we go, “No no no, it’s better if we just record it. Listen to it in its full concept.” [laughs] And Don was like, jumping up and down. I think he figured out eventually that the whole song was about him. At least in part -- it wasn’t just about him, but part of it was inspired by how frustrated we were with him.

3. “With You”

HAHN: We worked with the Dust Brothers on that -- previous to that, they did [Beastie Boys’] Paul’s Boutique, so they were definitely a part of our history of music. They basically gave us a bunch of stems from an unused remix that they had, so we constructed that into the song. Some of the sounds at the beginning, like that ‘Dun-dun. DUN,’ some of the loops and drum breaks in there are from them.

I remember being really excited at that time, working with them, because it just represented a new way of making music, re-assembling parts that sounded cool into something totally different. It was fun to do that in a collaborative fashion.

SHINODA: I always liked “With You”! It was more ‘of the time,’ it was very nu-metal, so for better or worse, that’s what that was really about. I really like Joe’s parts on it. I like the production, the beats and stuff that I did -- we had a lot of back-and-forth about the production on it.

4. “Points of Authority”

SHINODA: There are a couple references on “Points of Authority” that are interesting. The vocal scat thing that I do on the intro, that’s really inspired by the Roots and Black Thought. I heard him doing that on Illadelph Halflife, and I just thought there was something so cool about that. And I thought it would mix well with the scratching, so we kind of did this back-and-forth with those things. The guitar line of the song was originally completely different -- I think we actually included the original riff, the original version of the song, on our boxed set for Hybrid Theory. But at some point we realized that the original guitar riff was really basic, so I went into Pro Tools and chopped it up, and moved the pieces around just to experiment with how it could sound, and I treated it like a sample off a record.

The song didn’t have the current chorus for a long time -- we basically wrote that chorus while we were in the studio with Don, because we decided it needed something melodic but we didn’t want it to be too soft, so we opted for this really simple, two-chord yelling-shouting melodic part.

HAHN: I direct the majority of the music videos, so I had a lot of fun making that one [for a version of the song on the band's 2002 remix album Reanimation]. We story-boarded that whole video, and worked with an animation team in L.A., and went, “Let’s just create this world, and it’s gonna be this race against this race, and they’re battling it out.” I remember I was referencing Saving Private Ryan, and looking at a lot of anime, and the dynamics of things blowing up. It was so fun, because I had this crazy idea, and everyone was like, “Okay! Go do it!” And they let me do it!

5. “Crawling”

SHINODA: The “One Step Closer” video, we had a very modest budget for that, and we had never made a video before. So when it was time to do a second video, we had a little more money, and I think the label was really instrumental at that point in helping us find a really good team to make a good video. And Joe started to get more confident about asserting himself in the process -- during “Crawling,” he really got in there, and probably learned a lot, and asked a ton of questions. But it came out great, the video was really an important part in introducing people to the band.

HAHN: “One Step Closer” is a pretty aggressive song, and it’s not very sweet-sounding by any means. When “Crawling” came out [as the second single], it represented a different side of what we do, intertwining something very intimate with an outpouring of emotion in the chorus and bridge, and even with some screaming. We always tried to play with what works, with the music and the dynamic of the vocal that Chester and Mike would bring to the table. Funny thing too, because the first song was such a big deal at the time -- and then we come out with “Crawling,” which is more of a softer side of what we do. I think if you got the album, you really understood it, but people that didn’t were like, “How does this song have anything to do with that other song?”

SHINODA: We won a Grammy for “Crawling,” for best hard rock performance, and at the time I didn’t know the difference between “hard rock song” and “hard rock performance,” since they had Grammys for both. And eventually I was like, “Oh, this is a Grammy for Chester’s vocal.” Like, it was a great recording, but if we really want to be super honest, the reason we got that Grammy was because of Chester’s performance on that song was bananas. It was so insane! I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sing like that. And it’s just that extra fierceness in his vocal that we captured that day. Just once in a while, he would walk in with that going on in his voice, and we knew we had to record as many things as possible whenever that happened. [laughs] It was like, can we please do five songs that day?

6. “Runaway”

SHINODA: “Runaway” was originally a song called “Stick and Move,” and the lyrics were really trite, but it was super bouncy and fun to play. At all of our early shows, that was basically our big song -- people who would come to our shows for the first time, we would talk to them afterwards and mention that song. So we always thought, this is an important song to get right in the studio. And once we had some of the other songs starting to take shape, we were like, “Oh no, one of our best songs is now one of our worst songs.” We thought we had this gem, and now it’s turning to be kind of a mess.

We completely disassembled the song and re-wrote it. We kept the chords and some of the drum grooves, but added a bunch of new stuff to it, and rewrote all the lyrics, and it became “Runaway.”

HAHN: There was definitely this thing we were doing repeatedly, just trying to master the song structures, going from lulls to reaching climaxes back to the lull. This song represented that formula that we mastered before we started to explore different ways of writing songs. If you break it down, it’s much simpler than some of the later music.

SHINODA: “Runaway” is funny, because some people think that it was a single from the album, but that’s just because a bunch of radio stations started playing it without us even promoting it as a song or doing a video. It was just a time when everyone was so enamored with the album and the band that they would just play album cuts. It was unbelievable.

7. “By Myself”

HAHN: That was one of the songs that we carried over [from early demos], too. I remember it being like this quiet-to-loud, really cool vibe, going from almost a whisper to grabbing your shirt. I think it had a lot of conviction, and when we played it live it definitely had that vibe where people were just amped up from listening to it.

SHINODA: “By Myself” was our attempt to do the softest verses and every other parts of the song be the nastiest, loudest sounds we can. And so it was drawing more from like, Nine Inch Nails and Ministry, than some of the more nu-metal stuff.

I remember doing the demos for that song in my apartment in Glendale, in the L.A. area, and my neighbor just f--king hated me. The walls were paper-thin, Chester’s screaming the chorus, and they must have thought we were murdering somebody in the room. We were both just shouting, and I’m going, “No, LOUDER!” [laughs] And my neighbors would bang on the wall at 10 PM every night to tell us that it was time to go to bed, basically. And thus, we would record all the way up ’til 10, and then you’d hear a thumping on the wall. We’ve got our headphones on, we’re doing our thing, and they’re literally punching the wall, trying to get our attention and tell us to shut the f--k up.

HAHN: The album is full of these moments like the one where Mike is saying “By myself,” and then Chester goes, “MYSELLLLLF!” That’s what was kind of magical about Mike and Chester as frontmen, partners and co-vocalists -- to have that sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde type moment. Two vocalists that could pull that off together really made us stand out from everyone else.

8. “In The End”

SHINODA: We had a bunch of tracks that we really liked, but we knew we needed something else that was a next-level kind of song. And I was having this moment of, I knew it was on me, I had to find it. I locked myself in our rehearsal studio on Hollywood and Vine -- back when Hollywood and Vine was like, drug addicts and prostitutes everywhere, so you wouldn’t just want to go in and out of there. Once it got to be about 7 o’clock, I went in there and locked the door and stayed overnight. There’s no windows or anything, I didn’t know what time of day it was. I wrote all night, and I ended up with “In The End” in the morning.

Our drummer Rob was the first one to show up that afternoon and I played it for him, and he absolutely lit up. He said something to the effect of, “I was dreaming, imagining that we needed a melodic song that took us to the next level, where the chorus was just the undeniable thing. This is the song. You made the song that I would have imagined.” So that was the first endorsement, and then after that, everybody we played it for had a similar excitement about it.

HAHN: We knew that we needed more melody. We knew we needed to round out what we were doing. People don’t want to be screamed at for a full record -- well, some people do. But everything from the melodies to the piano that loops... we write a lot of music, and for each album, there’s probably at least a hundred song ideas, sometimes double that. Sometimes there’s these magical moments where all of the elements come together perfectly at the same time. This is one of those ‘eureka’ moments.

SHINODA: The only part that we had a lot of drama around was my rap verses -- my original verses were okay, but our A&R guy at the time was really an insecure guy all around, and he kept going around to everybody else asking what they thought about the rap verses on that song. He’d play them and go, “These aren’t right, don’t you think?” And it was like, setting them up to pick something apart. He was the one who suggested that I not rap in the band, that I just be the keyboard player or whatever. Thankfully the guys, and Chester in particular, came to my rescue on that one.

9. “A Place For My Head”

SHINODA: “A Place For My Head” used to be called “Esaul,” and that was one of the earliest songs -- it might have been on the first demo that me and my friend Mark Wakefield made, when the band was just the two of us. And it went through different iterations to this version, but it was always a favorite. I think when it got recorded in the studio for Hybrid Theory, it was one of those scenarios where the song was already something we liked, but then when it was recorded the energy went up a lot, and it became a song that we always closed our shows with, either that or “One Step Closer.”

HAHN: For a while we were making these songs that had this outpouring of energy which would get people to mosh. I think that was our goal: to somehow lyrically and musically convey this feeling of frustration and tension, almost like you’re stuffing a bottle full of those emotions and then you’re shaking it up until it explodes. I think that song does that very well.

10. “Forgotten”

SHINODA: “Forgotten” was the other one that started as a demo with me and Mark. That one was called “Rhinestone” at the time. Both of these demos in their original versions are on Hybrid Theory 20, and we got Mark’s begrudging approval to put them on, with his voice and everything.

HAHN: That was cool, because back then, we were just putting parts together that fit. When I hear that song, I hear the ingredients, in a way that a chef might eat a dish and pick apart the different ingredients, in a very simple but elegant kind of way. It felt great to come out with a product at the end that represented exactly what we were trying to do at that moment.

SHINODA: As a side note, with the Hybrid Theory 20 release, we didn’t mix or re-mix any of the songs. It’s just a mastered version of the original cassette demo. People have asked a couple of times if we ever wanted to do a remaster, and the technology of mastering hasn’t changed a lot between Hybrid Theory and now. I remember telling everyone else who would listen [while making it], “I’ve got a subwoofer and an amp in the trunk of my car, I want to be able to put this record on right after Timbaland and Dr. Dre and have it thump just as much as those records. It needs to have the shape of a rap record.”

11. “Cure For The Itch”

HAHN: Mike had this really cool beat idea, those strings that were on the song. We really liked the feeling of it, but it wasn’t a song. I was like, “What if we put a beat to it, and an intro that I can scratch on?” We took the approach of making it a musical journey, and have it lean more on the DJ side of things. It gives a nice pause to the intensity of the album.

SHINODA: Joe and I loved DJ Shadow and Aphex Twin and so much of the electronic and trip-hop stuff that was coming out back then. One thing that happened when that community butted up against the DJ community is that there was a sense of humor that came through -- DJ crews, when they did their sets, they’d throw in little things that made you laughs. That’s why “Cure For The Itch” is a little bit lighter. It’s kind of flexing in terms of the beat production, but it has a little bit of a sense of humor. We wanted to give Joe a little bit of a spotlight track. We thought it’d be fun for him and that the fans would love it, so it’s very much a Joe experience.

12. “Pushing Me Away”

SHINODA: “Pushing Me Away” was like, basically we were really happy with how “Crawling” came out, so we were like, “Let’s do another melodic song like that!”

HAHN: That’s another one of those ballad-y songs, that’s like one of those conversations ... In recent years we brought it back into our live set, as an a cappella/acoustic version, because it was never a single but we really loved that song. I think that struck a chord with all the fans that loved Hybrid Theory.

[the-durin-boys]

Stuck -- Lindir x Reader

This is for the lovely lovely @spadesthequeen who requested this quite a bit ago. I’m really sorry that this took so long, and I hope the story makes up for it!

Enjoy!

--

The mortifying reality of your current situation is inescapable, no matter what you would like to think. Right now, you are sitting at an Elvish table, eating a nice simple salad with Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Thorin (he excused himself a while ago) and Lindir, a good friend of both you and Gandalf. You had met him only twice before, but each time was like you had known each other your whole lives. So to say that you were embarrassed by the Company’s rash and rude behavior was an understatement. Your cheeks feel warm, be it from the wine or from embarrassment, you don’t know, but what you do know is that this wine is absolutely fantastic and drinking more of it to hide your face in the cup is a very good idea. 

You joined this quest under the plea of Gandalf. He said that it would be a treasure to bring you along, your magical abilities being priceless to the adventure. You, of course, had questioned why you would be needed when he was there, and Gandalf simply stated that he may not be there at all times, and that a person of your skill would make sure that if anything went astray, no lives would be lost. You agreed, after hours of talk and reading over a contract that dear old Balin had written up. You thought that this would be very straightforward, going from point A to point B, but when is anything simple? The Company of Thorin Oakenshield and yourself were chased down by a pack of Orcs and Wargs, the threat of death looming closer than you would have liked, before Gandalf revealed a passage that hid the company from the sight of the Orcs. Everyone had been surprised when an Orc body fell into the small cavern that Gandalf had taken you into, and even more so when the discovery was made that it was and Elvish bow and arrow that had slain the foul creature. But the surprise didn’t stop there, but merely peaked when it was revealed that the passage Dwalin pursued lead to the kingdom of Rivendell. Thorin, of course, was furious, but nevertheless, the group pushed on and soon you found yourselves in the home of the Elves, Lindir being the one to greet you at the gates. He had been surprised to see you, offering you a warm welcome in Elvish tongue, questioning why you were here. You were quick to explain and the rest is history. 

You take another deep swig as you watch Oin stuff a napkin into his horn and look to his friends and family who all gleefully laugh. 

“Goodness me.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, standing and making your way around the table to Lindir, passing Gandalf and Lord Elrond, who seem to be in deep conversation. As you pass the wine jug, you grab it and another glass before standing still next to your friend, wordlessly offering him a glass. He takes it without a second to think and you fill the glass to the brim. “Terribly sorry about my ...company. It’s been the first time in a long while that we’ve all felt safe.” Lindir gulps down a mouthful of fruity wine, and cocks his eyebrow up at you. 

“We?” You smile, and take a sip. 

“You know what I mean.” Lindir chuckles, feeling at ease and almost released of his duties, but quickly feels the tension return to the base of his head when Bofur, oh dear Bofur, stands on a pedestal and starts to sing a bar room song. You fill his glass, giggling as he sighs heavily. “I’ll make sure they clean up, don’t worry.” You playfully elbow him and drain your glass, which is promptly re-filled. The room is starting to feel a bit warmer, lighter, or maybe that’s just you and the wine, but either way, you are really starting to enjoy yourself. As Bofur’s song continues, the dwarves get more and more riled up, starting to throw food, some of which flew in the direction of you and Linidir. You duck, just in time for a handful of what looks like mashed potatoes, to fly into a statue, where your head just was. Wine splashes down the front of your formal dining dress, and potatoes stick into Lindir’s hair. 

You laugh, drinking the last few drops of wine from the jug as Lindir flicks potatoes out of his hair. Your wild laughter draws the attention of Gandalf and Elrond, who both can’t keep the smiles off their faces. 

“Lindir.” Lindir immediately straightens up. 

“Yes, my lord?”

“You are relieved of your duties for the rest of the evening.” Lindir looks confused, and is about to question, when you jump up and place both the jug and both of your glasses on the table. 

“Thank you, Elrond!” Elrond doesn’t even get the chance to respond before you have Lindir by the arm and are dragging him away from the chaotic mess of a dinner. As soon as your away, you throw your arms around Lindir and pull him into a hug. “It’s been so long!” Lindir laughs and returns the hug in full. 

“It has, I did not think that the next time we would meet would be now, with you covered in wine.”

“And you, with your hair full of potatoes!” You pull away and look him over. “And now also covered in wine.” Lindir looks down and chuckles at the red stain (though faint) covering his clothes. 

“Let us get changed, before you drag me on an adventure that I’m sure you’ve been thinking about all evening.” 

“Awe,” You gently bump your shoulder against his. “You know me so well. Walk me to my room?” Lindir smiles down at you. 

“Of course.”

--

Lindir doesn’t really know what he’s feeling right now. Kind of a churny-thumpy feeling in his chest that makes him lose his normal composure and causes him to bounce on the balls of his feet. He’s been standing outside your room for several minutes now, waiting for you to come out. He had gotten cleaned up as quickly as he could, and expected you to do the same, but it appears that today you plan on taking your time with your dressing. Lindir would never admit it out loud - he is a gentleman - but the way the wine soaked your clothes, causing them to stick oh-so wonderfully to your body, showing off each curve and dip and tuck of your body was, simply put, entrancing. He’s been trying to gather the strength to knock on your door for about five minutes, his fist drifting closer and then farther away with each passing second.

“Come on,” He whispers, sucking in a deep breath, before lightly knocking on the door, three times. 

-- 

Inside the room, you stand in front of your mirror, and very frustrated. You had planned on leading Lindir up to the top of the small cliff to stargaze, and you wanted to look nice while doing it. So you picked out a fancy dress that complemented you “tones and curves, very nicely, my dear.”, as stated by a lovely handmade who you wish was here right now to help untangle you from the many straps and strands of beads of the dress. 

You let out and angry huff, feeling both very claustrophobic and exposed at the same time. You’re so focused on the fact that you can’t move one of your arms without ripping out a seam, that you almost don’t hear the three light knocks on your door. 

Oh, thank god the handmaid is back. 

“Come in!” You yell as you gently tug at a very pretty string of beads. “Thank goodness you’re here, I got-” You turn, expecting to see your very kind handmaid, but instead see Lindir, red-faced and trying to turn his eyes away, and trying to leave at the same time. 

“I-I am so sorry, I didn’t mean-” Lindir continues to stutter his way out the door, which is shut rather hard, and leaves you in an awkward silence. Which is even more awkward because you’re still tied up by your own dress. You’re quiet, but continue to try to free yourself from your fabric. Five or so minutes pass without any success, and you almost start to cry.

Where did she go??

You don’t really have many options, either remain stuck, or call to Lindir for help, who no doubt is still behind the door. You clear your throat and hold your head high, trying to fight the mortification of asking your friend to help untangle - and thus, undress - you. 

“Lindir?” Your voice echoes for a few seconds. 

“Yes?” Comes his tentative reply. 

“I need-” Your face flushes a deep red. “I need help. I’m stuck.” Everything is quiet for a moment before you hear Lindir clear his throat, and the door opens. He enters rather quickly and shuts and locks the door behind him with a quick click. “So. I don’t know how I did this, but I did.” You watch Lindir through your mirror, and smile as he chuckles quietly to himself. 

“Well you have managed to get yourself into a lot sticker situations before, so.” He approaches you, simultaneously looking at you and looking away, trying not to stare at the exposed skin of your stomach and back. 

“That is true, very true.” You tense when you feel Lindir touch your dress, and he pauses for a second before continuing. His fingers make quick work of unweaving and untangling the strands and straps and beads. You feel the dress loosen and suddenly you can move your arm again, which you do. Unbeknownst to you, the dress was so loose that by you moving your arm, it would fall. Which it did. Lindir was quick to catch the fabric and hold it up against your bare skin, hands almost caressing your waist and chest. You gasp and also try to gather up the fabric, the action causing you to step backwards and into Lindir’s chest. The pair of you still, both of you holding up the dress, caught up in each others warmth, all which looking at the other through the mirror. A warm feeling picks up low in your gut, and your cheeks blush a warm red. Lindir’s breath brushes your ear and you tilt your head, just a little. Lindir’s eyes swim with a dark, hot tension and you let your head fall back against his shoulder. Lindir’s head tips forward, just a bit, like he wants to kiss the smooth skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, but unsure if he shoulder. Your breath grows heavy, and you let yourself almost relax into Lindir’s warmth. 

“Is the door locked?” Lindir’s head dips down and his teeth graze over the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Of course.”

[cloudsofcollection]

My Experience with Ayahuasca

The way these few weeks orchestrated itself to align my soul with my ayahuasca ceremony was very intentional. I’m grateful that I’m able to trust my intuition to guide me to good and I’m grateful that I have the strength to follow through. Discipline takes work. It’s not that it’s difficult.. It just takes genuine work and effort. The gifts that come from that discipline make it all worthwhile and can even have you question why it took you so long to get here in the first place. But everything is as it is supposed to be. The struggle. The lessons. The choices made. Everything.

For the most part, I felt very relaxed and ready. I had been preparing for as long as I could remember and I trusted that I could handle this experience. I originally wanted to go to Peru, the sacred land where the magic started. To be in the jungle with the plants and the medicine, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. All year, I asked questions and researched how to get there. I accepted that it wasn’t time, but one day it will be. I had then crossed paths with someone who had done ayahuasca… here… in Winnipeg. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. If I can’t experience the jungle, what better way to do ayahuasca than to do it in my hometown, the city I was born in (rebirth is such a strong theme for me right now). A few months had passed. My heart was still yearning and this time the universe was taking the lead in our harmonious dance together. She guided me to this woman, Lori, who’s partner holds ceremonies in Winnipeg. Get this… she was the newest hire at my work. This allowed me to create a friendship with her, a bond that I could trust and feel safe with. It is incredible how magical this Life can be if we let it. There are so many loving and supporting energies that want you to be happy and want you to live the best Life. We’re all in this together.

Originally, the ceremony was supposed to take place a week ago, December 29. I was excited to end 2018 with a healing experience to help me recharge for the next year. I had felt ready and I anticipated it more and more with each day. The night before the ceremony, I received a message from Lori saying that the ceremony needed to be postponed for another week because her partner had caught the flu. At first, I was frustrated and upset. I allowed myself to feel those emotions and with each breath, I accepted the situation. I then realized that I have more time to cleanse, prepare, and rest. I said to myself, “I guess I have more work to do.” And I sure did. I spent my New Years alone. At 5pm on New Years eve, I packed a bag and booked a hotel room. I was going through an exhausting time because of the holidays and everything that comes with it. I felt drained in all areas and needed to refill my vessel. I had a very spiritual and intimate evening with myself. I was relearning how to love me again. As it hit midnight, I laid in a bath tub with my crystals. I aligned my chakras, did a breathing meditation to centre myself, and brought in the new year being reborn.

I woke up right before the sun started to rise. I stretched with the sun and enjoyed breakfast with my fellow crows. This will be my new ritual every year (maybe even every season). I am beyond grateful that I followed my intuition. I was broken before this. I felt like I “needed” to be with my family to celebrate or I “needed” to be out with friends partying. But deep, deep down.. that was all ego. When you can get out of your head, and into your heart, it can be so healing. This needed to happen for me because immediately after my beautiful experience, I was back in work mode. I had 4 days until the ceremony and I worked at my job all 4 days.

~ It was during this very moment that my heart had felt full. The sun was shining through me & I could feel absolute gratitude for all Life ~

Leading up to meeting the medicine, I chose to make some changes in my lifestyle (my guides also helped me with this as well). With about a week left, I took care of myself and my health. I chose carefully and intentionally what food, what feelings, and what information to process. I cut out caffeine and only drank water or herbal teas. I chose to ate mainly vegetarian dishes with the occasional fish or chicken. I ate ALOT of fruit. This alone took training and discipline. During this time, I was staying at my grandmother’s house and let me tell you… my grandmother’s cooking is my favourite cooking. She puts so much love into it, it’s always perfect. With that being said, it was really hard for me to watch my brother eat adobo, which is my absolute favourite, as I munched on a spinach and apple salad. Or how much I wanted to have a slice of Little Caesar’s pizza hours before my ceremony.

~ vanilla chia pudding with mashed bananas & blueberries ~ avocado toast with bruschetta ~ spinach salad with apples ~ quinoa with mixed veggies ~

Now that I’m on the other side, I’ve realized that those temptations and cravings are temporary. And temporary gratification is worth the lifelong gifts you can receive if you choose otherwise. My vessel was clear and pure for the medicine to be absorbed and for the healing energies to transform. I was ready. One step led to another and fast forward to January 5, at the peak of the new moon in Capricorn as well as a solar eclipse, I had journeyed with courageous and beautiful beings.

There were seven of us. The number seven is considered to be “the Seeker, the lifelong Searcher of Truth”. And that is exactly what we all came here to do, to seek our truths of our world. These people were all strangers to me, but I felt safe. I felt like we’ve walked this path with one another in a different Life. The ceremony was held in an art gallery in the heart of downtown Winnipeg. We had open space and it was perfect for the size of our group. I became comfortable in the corner close to our main guides. I laid out my crystals and stones that were also ready to walk this path with me. After brief introductions, smudging, and settling into the energy of the room, the ceremony began.

~ This was my time traveling space ship (hehe). My fucking awesome homies to the left: obsidian, selenite, amber, lapis lazuli, and a pine cone :) ~

Jeff, our ayahuasquero, blessed the medicine. I kept wanting to watch what he was doing because I was so intrigued. But that was my ego talking. My spirit was telling me to “centre in and stay grounded because it doesn’t matter what he looks like, what matters is where you are about to go”. I was the first one to receive the medicine. My female companion, Lori, came to me with a gentle smile and with a whisper, passed me a small wooden cup and said, “cheers”. With gratitude, I drank the ayahuasca very slowly, wanting to feel every bit of it move through my body. I closed inwards and gave thanks. As I sat still, I moved my awareness to my body, needing to stretch and move the energy through me. I repeated to myself, “I will heal. I will grow. I will let go. I will heal. I will grow. I will let go”. It was time for me to lay down. The lights turned off and it didn’t take long for me to feel the magic. At first, a red light dawned over me. I opened my eyes to see where it was coming from, but there was no red light anywhere. I only could see it with my eyes closed. This resonated with my root chakra and gave me the gift of grounding. My spirit was preparing me for my journey. I then saw a tiny eyeball blink at me and it scared me. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be some crazy shit.

I closed my eyes and then I saw a key hole. It was inviting me in and I trusted it and kept going. Mama Aya appeared. She carried this essence of an ancient wise grandmother. Her face was a carving on a large tree trunk. Her roots extended out to me, comforting me, telling me that she was here to help me. Jeff began to sing. The timing was perfect because the medicine had finally settled and I was somewhere else. The frequency of his voice was creating images and colours within my mind. Everything was very bright and electric. “This is a lot. This is intense,” I said to myself. Fear began to rise. I wanted to go home and be in my bed. I wanted to be in a familiar place. Everything I was experiencing was new and different and it was a lot for me to process. In my head, I was trying to figure out what to do next. I would try to enjoy the intense high I was feeling, but it felt like system overload. I called over to Lori to comfort me. I looked up at her, and she came to me as a bird. I told her I wanted it to stop because it was a lot. I felt her touch and she continued to comfort me. She looked down on me, and whispered, “it’s okay Mel. It’s the medicine. Everything will be okay.” It took me awhile to release resistance. I felt cold, I just wanted to be warm, I wanted water but couldn’t figure out how to grab it. There was a moment where I knew I was going to throw up, but couldn’t get up. I accepted that I was going to throw up on myself and call it a night. This was it. This was my experience. I whispered out loud, “I need help. Can someone pass me my water bottle? Where is my bucket?” But a voice came to me and said, “you can have whatever you want, but it’s you that needs to do it. No one else can do it for you.” So I sat up and opened my eyes. Thank God. I took a few deep breaths and observed my surroundings. The art gallery was no longer a gallery. But a blur of energy floating through the air. Every direction was a different realm. I came back to contact with my physical body. “Where is my wrist? Yes.. there it is. Grab the hair tie, Mel. Put your hair up. Drink some water. Where are my glasses? I got this. I got this. I have control. Shake it off. Try to throw up. It’s okay, just get it over with.” I couldn’t throw up even after hunching over my bucket with my finger in my mouth. I talked to myself, ALOT. (I mean, I talk to myself alot as it is so it makes sense that it was necessary for my experience. Lol) I laid back down and snuggled in my blanket. Intuitively, I went in the fetal position. Jeff and Lori were going back and forth in song. It was so beautiful. The song was coming from their heart and it helped carry me through my fear. Their song also moved the plant medicine within me. Everything was working together in every moment. I never felt so connected. I then felt like I was being packed into a cocoon. Spirit animals surrounded me in a circle to protect me. I could feel their physical touch pat me as if I was a baby. Waves of energy were pouring into me. My demons were nearby, but my spirit animals were warding them away. But I couldn’t have them do all the work themselves. It was my turn. I began to release resistance. I opened up from my cocoon and spread my body out. In that very moment, my heart opened and I was blessed with so much love. Ethereal beings showed me their world and it was so bright. It felt like they were each taking turns feeding me and nourishing me with love and light. They cleansed my body and had me in a bubble of unconditional love. I saw codes and symbols but I couldn’t understand it at the time. “What is happening? What does this mean? How do I integrate this information?" System fucking overload. My galactic family was showing me light language. Matter did not exist here. There was nothing physical to this experience. I had to touch my face and body just to make sure it was still there. I felt detached from my body. I felt like my mind was floating through consciousness and all it has to offer. Everything worked in frames and layers, pulsing back and forth. Now I wonder what would have happened if I stepped into each frame. Everything was detached, yet all connected. 

~ This is the best image I could use to describe the pulsating frames & layers. Holy fuck, I was inside bismuth ~

Then Mateo started to play his didgeridoo. I was in awe the whole time with what I was experiencing. I couldn’t help but say out loud, “this is so beautiful. How is this happening? How are you doing that?” There were moments when Lori and Jeff greeted me in my corner. They had me sit up as the blessed me and placed mama beads around my wrists. Jeff had blown tobacco smoke around me to cleanse my energy. They both worked so well together. Their intuition, guidance, and all-loving energy made the ceremony perfect. I was in admiration by what the medicine and sound can do together to any experience. It was very spiritual and deep and our energies were all working together collectively. There was a moment when I had felt that everyone was hovering over me. Watching me and protecting me. Their spirits came through and journeyed into my world for a moment. I couldn’t believe all the beauty and love I was witnessing within. I now finally understand how our universe is holographic because I was in the matrix. I traveled through space and time and I am so grateful that I was filled with the most loving energies.

Leading up to the ceremony, my angels were sending me messages of support. They do this by showing me angel numbers (one number repeating itself 3 times, for example: 222, 444, 555). On the day of the ceremony, I didn’t feel or see any messages. But I knew that was because I needed to do this one on my own and I needed to trust that they are always with me and sure enough, they were.

~ When trying to use words to describe my experience, I was blank at first. I came across this photo and this is very close. This is where my galactic family greeted me and showered me with love~

I was finally coming back to Life. The medicine was still within me, but my travels were coming to an end. I was coming back to my physical body and needed to reground. I felt a wave of excitement and happiness. Everyone was very pleased with their journey. We began to share stories and exchange wisdom with one another. It was hard for me to process everything at the time. My body was back on Earth, but my mind was still running around the universe. As I sat up, I enjoyed the aura of our space. Everyone was happy. Everyone was working through their blockages. People had break downs. People had break throughs. We supported each other and it was perfect. We sang songs and gave hugs. As we let light into the gallery, the reflection shined through the window. A beam of light stretched across the room and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It was the most perfect way to close my ceremony. It’s so beautiful to see how the medicine works. It doesn’t work for you, it works with you. There is a relationship between the medicine and the human being. The medicine is there to show you what you are willing to see. The human being is there to receive the gifts and share it with the world. I learned a lot about my flight or fight tendencies. I initially craved for warmth and something familiar because the unknown scared me. But man oh man… the moment I let go and released resistance, the unknown was the most sacred and most wonderful world I could dream of. It was hard for me to fall asleep because my ego was coming back & I started to judge myself. I was telling myself I was acting obnoxious or I was talking too much, and as I was doing this to myself, I could feel my heart hurting. My rose quartz necklace even broke from tossing and turning so much. And rose quartz helps with the heart and unconditional love. So I placed my hand on my heart and told myself to be gentle. Focus on the good, because there was so much to be gained. I also now see my potential as a human being. There is this world that I can tap into to gain wisdom and to recharge my vessel. I woke up the following morning feeling awake inside and energized, but my body needed to rest. I needed a full day in my pajamas, my grandmother’s cooking, and the opportunity to share the love I gained. The best gift I gained from my experience is feeling secured. I feel secure in my body and in my skin. My eczema is healing. I’m letting my hair down. I’m comfortable with who I am and I have so much love to give. Now all I can do is spread my light and inspire others to ignite their own.

There is so much to our world outside our four walls. We are conditioned to live in fear, but once we move from that, we possess so much magic within. Our Creator gave us the tools to succeed, but we must come back to our natural selves. Love, light, and nature are our best healers. They are here for us and are wanting to shower us with many gifts. You don’t have to see it to believe. You first have to believe, then you will see.

I will work with plant medicine again, but in moderation. This experience was very intense and a lot for me to process. But I survived. I didn’t throw up, and I didn’t shit myself so that’s always a win. Haha!

Wherever you are, I am sending you so much love. I encourage you to challenge your beliefs and explore the corners of your mind, and push through your inner fears. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, I promise.

Love and light to you and yours,

Mel

[trbl-will-find-me]

Every Exit, An Entrance (30/?)

She commands, and commands, and commands and then she sleeps, but even then, the cycle repeats. The Avenger or the Anthill, the Fog pods or the Chosen, the Council or ADVENT: binary pairs, variations on a theme she can’t escape.

It’s the brief adjustment period that still startles her, a disquieting confusion about where and when she is, memories of a life unlived still fresh in her mind.

It’s better when John is there, when she can ground herself in the steady rise and fall of his chest, the feeling of his fingers on her skin, the smell of his soap in her nose. It is gentler, then.

The mornings alone are the worst. No matter where she wakes, there is a profound feeling that it is wrong, even as her surroundings buoy her towards a sense of place, visual landmarks steeped in familiarity.

The ship or the subterrain, she takes comfort, at least, in the small simple fact that the face that meets her gaze in the mirror is always the same. Small mercies.

It’s not the disorientation so much that bothers her –not anymore– but the lingering notion that something is off. She considers herself to be well-grounded in reality; the daily reminder that she may not be, that stress, or the tank, or something has left that sense forever impaired is what truly bothers her about the process. Most days, it fades without fanfare, like coming to from a dream.

Most, but not all.

--

Of the possibilities she had not properly accounted for, her soldiers reading her work ranks near the top,

“So, this is why they picked you,” Molchetti gestures towards her screen. “I always wondered.”

“I can’t believe you guys are actually reading my papers.”

“Why wouldn’t we?’

“Because you lived them?”

“We did not live your theories on agricultural security in bioterror events.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Oh god, that’s an early one. Why would you read that?”

“Everyone else is.”

It is, unfortunately, a true statement. Her life before XCOM has become a topic of scrutiny for the press, barring any concrete details on her existence since March 1, 2015. She is torn between a vague sort of pride in her work receiving so much attention, and a strong desire to direct that attention towards almost anything else. She feels as if she’s been subjected to a second defense, one at which she is unable to speak, and must only watch as her work is judged by those not truly qualified to evaluate it.

“I know this is what we wanted,” she admits to John over dinner. “But it’s more than a little uncomfortable.”

“It’s been generally good press.”

“Generally?”

“You weren’t really expecting friends at Fox News, were you?”

She laughs. “Not with my publication history.”

“Your publication history, your conference presentations, your commentary. None of it.”

“Tell me someone called me a coastal elite.”

“You’re not getting that kind of attention from them. Who knows, though? Maybe they’ll dig something else up.”

--

The whole mission has spiraled out of control. An abandoned ADVENT facility in the middle of the tropics under the control of a sentient AI initially designed by Raymond Shen would be bad enough, but the addition of Lily’s presence on the field adds another level of unneeded difficulty. A seemingly endless supply of mechs, however rusted, and a forced reliance upon single passenger freight lifts hardly help the situation.

But, of all things, the AI seems to know them, and it seems to be doing its damnedest to find a way under Central’s skin.

“Are you still there, Bradford? I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally drowned yourself in the liquor.”

She watches his hands tighten into fists.

“Menace,” she instructs. “Keep pushing.”

The team has done well, all things considered. They have taken a few wounds, mostly minor, and they’ve kept Lily safe. They just need to find an escape route and, with any luck, disable this Julian character for good.

“Getting tired yet, Central? You’re an old man with one foot in the grave. I wonder why these people put up with you.”

Sally freezes for a moment, her hands hovering over her console.

“Fuck off, you glorified toaster!” Kelly yells.

“Look at them, so willing to defend you,” Julian purrs. “Do they know the blood on your hands? I’ve seen the world you’ve built, and frankly, it’s below even my expectations.”

She watches him reach for his flask, then think better of it, hands coming to grip the Hologlobe’s rails.

Menace advances, making their way towards a chamber at the far end of the room.

“And here I thought you would have run after her, Central. Or are some lives just more valuable than others? You’ve always played fast and loose, haven’t you?”

“Ignore him,” she orders, though she’s not sure if the edict is meant for those onboard the Avenger or off.

“It really would have been better to have just turned yourself in. Think of the lives you would have spared in the two decades it took you to find your precious Commander. And for what? You have to know you can’t win this.”

The ground team makes their way up a flight of stairs towards the smaller chamber.

“Oh, yes, ADVENT may fall. But have you considered that there is worse to come? Or hasn’t she told you?”

Her heart stutters in her chest. She has no idea what Julian is on about, but the last thing she needs is for Bradford to believe she’s keeping secrets. They have both worked so hard to mend things. She can’t have them shattered again.

“I really must thank Father,” Julian drawls. “It seems he really was the only competent one at XCOM.”

“Will somebody shut him up?” Central growls.

On screen, Lily makes her way towards an enormous robotic chassis. It springs to life at her touch, diverting Julian’s attention.

She uses the brief respite to take stock of the bridge crew. They are universally uncomfortable, uncertain of how to respond to Julian’s taunts. While she has no idea what the mad AI could be on about in terms of something worse still to come, even she’s forced to concede its comments to Central have all carried a grain of truth; it’s what allows them to cut so deeply, after all.

Sally watched her guardian with a kind of deep concern on her face, as if she were waiting for something to break. His avoidance of his flask does not seem to reassure.

Her attention snaps back to the screen at the sound of Raymond Shen’s voice, thread and tired. Something in her chest clenches and she’s seized by her own upswell of grief.

But it will have to wait until later as the outer chamber around them floods with a deadly gas.

--

In general, she tries to avoid being overly punitive. The men and women under her command work long hours under intense pressure and without sufficient outlet. She’s watched enough MASH to know what those circumstances breed.

Really, she’s been spared any serious antics. Yes, there had been a brief issue with trophy keeping, and yes, there had been more than a few off-color jokes, but by and large, they have all behaved as professionals.

They still do.

She would just prefer they find other reading material than her publication history.

John sits across from her after dinner, the door to her office securely locked.

“Saudi Arabia.” He says.

She squirms in her chair. “How much?

“Almost a quarter of our operating budget.”

Her eyes goes wide. “And what’s the price tag on that?”

“They want a Firestorm base.”

“It’s our people who operate them.”

“They seem to understand that.”

She rests her elbows on her desk, and buries her head in her hands.

“Lizzie,” he says. “You can’t turn them down. Not if we want this to work.”

“I know, but---”

“No but. They have money and influence. We need both.”

“Their human rights record---”

“China, Russia, Brazil, South Africa, and the US: we’re not free from moral failings on that front as it is.”

He’s right, of course. She can admit that much.

The offer is good – better than good, even – and a Firestorm base in that part of the world would only help them should the worst come to pass. Better coverage would mean a better air game; a better air game might spare cities.

She really can’t find a downside, and her own moral qualms seem small by comparison.

“There’s something else,” he says.

“Good or bad?”

“It puts us over the operating budget we’d need --- over what we had at the peak of hostilities. And they’d likely bring another bloc of support along with them.”

“We’d be free to create a separate charter and decloak.”

He nods. “We’ll keep leaking files, get the documents drawn up, and drop cover.”

“And either succeed brilliantly, or find ourselves arrested.”

“Not the worst stakes we’ve ever lived with.”

“And there’s really no backing down now.”

“Not if you want to keep that research contained.”

She presses her lips together for a moment. “How do we get documents? We don’t have any lawyers in-house.”

“We have ways.”

--

The SPARK had been a surprise, yes, but it had been a pleasant one. The prototype Sectopod, however, had been an entirely different matter.

Even so, they are still here. Yes, the SPARK needs repairs and, yes, Moon will be in the infirmary a few days longer, but their gains far outpace their losses.

It doesn’t hurt that ADVENT remains seemingly none the wiser to their whereabouts.

In the three days since Menace team’s return from the tower, she has seen little of her Central Officer, but their scant interactions have been free of any tension. She suspects that something is amiss, but she refuses to push the matter.

“Commander?” Sally’s voice cuts over the comm. “I think you should see this.”

She can’t be certain, but she’d swear there’s a note of panic.

“Contact? Transmission from one of the Havens?”

“It’s Central, ma’am.”

She feels her skin prickle. “Where are you?”

“Aft-storage, sub-level C.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The sight that greets her is by far the worst surprise she has received as of late. Bradford, curled on the ground, Sally’s fingers hooked over his wrist.

“It’s withdrawal,” she says. “He must have fucked up the taper.”

“How do you know?” She says, kneeling down next to her.

She shakes her head. “It was like this the first time. It’s like this every time. He gets impatient and it all goes to hell. Last time almost killed him. And we had help then.”

“You have help now.”

“Tygan?”

“I know it’s not the best, but the man’s got a degree in pharmacology. He can calculate a dosage, if nothing else.”

Sally wrings her hands. “I don’t think I can do this again.”

The Commander shakes her head. “You’re not going to. Go get Tygan. We’ll handle it.”

The girl makes no effort to move.

“Go,” she says, voice gentle. “I’ll stay with him.”

She nods after a moment and sets off, returning shortly with the Chief Scientist in tow. Between them, they haul Bradford to his feet. They send Sally on ahead, scouting to make sure the halls are clear.  The bridge is mostly empty, save for a skeleton crew on monitoring duty, and they’re able to maneuver him into her quarters without attracting much attention.

She starts an IV line, now grateful that her last medic re-certification had been only three months prior to the invasion. Tygan leaves, then returns with something in a syringe.

“Lorazepam.”

“You think he’s gonna seize?”

“Sally had indicated there was a history.”

She draws in a breath and lets it out. “Well. This could get interesting.”

“In my time with XCOM, Commander, I’ve come to accept that as the norm.”

 She knows she shouldn’t find that quite as funny as she does.

 It’s a quiet few hours. Central spends the bulk of it asleep or otherwise unconscious. She spends the bulk of it perched on the edge of the bed, reaching out every now and then to brush sweat-soaked hair off of his forehead.

“Lizzie? You really here?” He groans when he finally wakes.

I don’t know, she wants to tell him. I don’t know if this is real, or a dream, or some other simulation. I go to sleep here, and I wake up somewhere else. I go to sleep there, and I wake up here. This feels real, sure, but it also feels wrong. Like I’m not supposed to be here. Like I ended up here by mistake. I don’t know. I wish I did. All I know is that you are here and I am here and, for now, that will have to be enough.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here. You came for me. I’m with you.”

“Don’t know if I believe you.”

“Think that’s the fever talking.”

“You only ever called me that once. And it wasn’t real.”

“What?”

“You know.”

Sweetheart, her brain helpfully supplies. You haven’t called anyone that since. Well.

“It was real,” she says, softly.

“It was a fairytale. You said it yourself. Real you would know that.”

“We both know what happened.”

He reaches out with his free hand, tracing a finger gently down her cheek. “Always meant to tell you,” he says. “Thought I’d have more time.”

“You can tell me after you get some sleep.

“You’ll be gone.”

“Man, are you in for a surprise.” 

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m with you.”

“You knew, right?”

The question catches her off guard. “Yeah. I knew.”

[glitteringvoid-blog]

The Sword and the Silverware

A friend of mine tagged me in this prompt on Facebook, so I figured I’d see what I could accomplish in ~1.5hrs. Here’s the results (pic related)

I didn’t know why Mom was making such a big deal out of this. Everyone turns sixteen once in their lives. Well, I guess, except for the people who don’t make it to sixteen. That’s morbid. Whatever.

But, also, what’s the sense in having a fancy dinner for me when I have to set the table? Wow, what a big day. Here I am, sixteen and everything, setting the dining room table.

I didn’t even realize people had silverware anymore. What year is this? Who are we trying to impress? It’s just my usual family. The old people will be talking and us kids will be Snapchatting. No one cares how fancy the forks are. I’m probably going to have to clean them, too. Why couldn’t we just, I dunno, go out to dinner?

Table mostly set, I go rooting through one of the cabinets for the old silverware. I don’t really know what I’m looking for, just that there is a box, somewhere, in with all this crap, that’s full of forks and knives and spoons that I’ve never seen before.

Crap. Doesn’t silver tarnish? Will I have to clean this stuff before we use it, then clean it again after we use it?

I groan. My mom shouts from elsewhere in the house to stop whining and keep working. How did she even hear me?

I sift through some more old crap and finally find a box. It isn’t very deep, but it is long and wide. Pretty much what I’d expect silverware would be kept in.

I try to open it, but it’s locked. Seriously? Come on. Frustrated, I give it another shot. Something makes a springing sound and the box comes open. Oops. I mean, I hope I didn’t break it, but I’m glad it’s open.

The box is, in fact, full of silverware. Yay. It’s laid out in two layers within the box. The top layer has all the normal stuff. Knives, forks, spoons, you get it. I peek at the second layer and there’s all the other stuff people don’t usually care about. Junk like salad forks, dessert forks, soup spoons. I start tossing the normal cutlery onto the table. Because, honestly, I don’t know where things are supposed to go, but I do know that no one in my family has ever been civilized enough to use one fork for their salad and then a different one for the rest of their dinner. I kinda get the dessert fork thing, though.

Everything laid out, I survey my work. As dumb as I think this is, I didn’t want to have to spend any more time on it, and hopefully if my mom has issues she’ll just fix it herself.

I do notice that we’ve got a butter dish out (no butter yet, that’s not coming out until closer to dinner) and figure there is such a thing as a butter knife. May as well put that out, too.

I go back into the little box and lift the first tray, finding a weirdly shaped knife in with all the other unnecessary tiny forks and extra-circular spoons. I go for the knife (gotta be the butter knife) but it won’t come out of the little indent it was resting in. Strange. Everything else came out of the box just fine. The indents kept the stuff in place, but, it wasn’t like it held anything down. And the box was covered in this plushy wannabe-velvet fabric, so it’s not like it was anything the metal would, what, stick to?

Maybe there was like a magnet or something on the other side. Wait. Is silver magnetic?

With a huff I give the knife another yank and it comes flying out of the groove. I hadn’t realized I had put so much force into pulling the thing out, and the box with the rest of the silverware flings out of my hand, cutlery clattering to the floor. I hear shouting from my mom upstairs and let out a heavy sigh, dropping to my knees as I start picking things up.

The butter knife is still in my hand. I never dropped that.

Everything recovered, I put the knife on the butter dish and put the box away. I notice that the knife definitely seems shinier than everything else. Even when Mom and I put food out on the table, light kept glinting off of it and catching my eye. None of the regular knives did that.

My mom comes around from the kitchen with a basket of bread and a stick of still-wrapped-up butter. I’ve never seen this basket before. The bread looks good.

She plunks the basket down on the table with about as much grace as I had set the thing. Half-unwrapping the butter, she holds the stick in one hand and reaches out to move the butter knife that I had left just sitting there on the dish. She grabs the handle but it doesn’t move. I watch this happen, and my mom pulls at the knife again, but it doesn’t budge from the dish.

My mom lets out a string of frazzled, frustrated expletives directed at the butter knife. I know she’s stressed about dinner coming out good for everyone. This is another reason we should’ve just gone out to eat.

I reach out and effortlessly swat the butter knife out of the way. My mom doesn’t seem too fazed by this, mumbling about what else has to be accomplished as she walks back to the kitchen.

Soon the relatives show up. There’s a bustle as the grandparents come in, one couple at a time, then my aunt and uncle with my cousin. People are talking before dinner and my cousin is looking at her phone. Every time I look at mine, my mom scolds me and tells me to socialize. With whom, Mom?

We sit down at the table and my mom forces me to take the head while my dad sits across from me on the other end. It feels weird being at the head of the table. I feel exposed and like all attention is on me. I don’t like it but my mom won’t let me move. She’s sitting there to my left and my attached-to-her-phone cousin is on my right.

We say grace, which is laughable and honestly just for show. Who even says grace anymore?

Food and plates get passed around. My mom loads my plate up for me because, apparently, I’m sixteen now but can’t put my own mashed potatoes and stuff on my plate. Gotta make sure I still get all my veggies, too, you know?

When I get the chance I snag a piece of bread and the butter dish. That’s really what I care about. I put the bread down on my plate and attempt to slice a pad of butter. I know the butter has been sitting out a bit, so I don’t put much effort in to taking a chunk. This information is important because… well, I mean, it’s just butter, right?

I push the knife into the butter and to my horror, the blade passes clean through the butter… and the butter dish… and the tablecloth… and by the time I realize something weird is happening and pull back, the butter knife is wedged in the wood of the table.

I’m shocked, and look around nervously. I hope no one noticed.

Yanking back on the knife, the sliced-in-half butter dish clatters loudly and my mom snaps her attention to me, the you’re-in-trouble look blazing in her eyes.

I start to tell her I don’t know what happened, I really don’t. She immediately begins to holler something about the age of the table, the quality of the table cloth, the sentimentality of the stupid butter dish. How could I do such a thing? As she shouts, all attention is on me. Except for my cousin, who is looking at her phone, all eyes have turned to me.

And I’m just sitting there, awkwardly holding the butter knife with a misshapen hunk of butter sliding down the blade.

In the silence that surrounded my mom’s shrieking, I did the only thing I could do: I slowly begin to butter my bread. I’m hungry, okay?

As I press the knife into the bread, the same thing happens again: as if passing through… warm butter… the knife goes straight through the bread, the plate, the cloth, the table. This time the blade goes even further in the wood, and my mom is yelling even louder about everything I just ruined.

I start to defend myself in a useless whine, saying that it’s just a butter knife, it’s not my fault it’s cutting this stuff, what’s this knife even made of, anyway?

My mom snatches my wrist in an attempt to get the knife from me. I might have mumbled something about how I wasn’t done buttering my bread. When my mom forces my hand open and wraps her fingers around the handle, I give up, withdrawing my hand from the knife.

Now holding the full weight of the knife (what do butter knives weigh, like a few ounces?), my mom’s closed fist thuds down atop the table. She exclaims something about the heaviness of the knife and now everyone’s looking at her instead. I sarcastically suggest that she try to cut something, my intention being to prove that what I had done had happened by accident. My mom, hand pinned to the table under the force of the butter knife, hisses something about how she’ll cut me if I don’t stop what I’m doing.

I huff and try to grab the knife back from her, figuring I could help her, since, you know, apparently the knife is too heavy. As I effortlessly pick the thing up, the blade glimmers just as it had when I had first put it on the table.

Everyone gasps, people cover their eyes, even my cousin screws her lids shut and separates one hand from her phone, pausing her fervent texting just long enough to rub her eyes. I look around, confused. Sure the thing is shiny, but come on, it’s not that shiny.

A clamour rises up around me as people begin shouting about this knife. I pick my bread up and start eating, shrugging casually as I hand the knife off to my uncle, who demanded to see the thing. His hand slams to the table the same as my mom’s, and as everyone’s confusion peaks, I figure I’ll keep eating. It’s my party. I’ll ignore you all and eat the food I helped make if I want to.

Even my cousin has looked up from her phone, watching my uncle struggle with the handle of the blade as he manages to tip the thing out of his hand. As it slides out of his outstretched palm, the knife daintily, almost mockingly, plops down on the tablecloth as if it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Everyone is staring at the thing and I start picking at my green beans. Why didn’t we go out to dinner?

I reach in front of my cousin and scoop the knife back up. Maybe now I was feeling a little bit of a boost, thanks to the astonishment of my audience, and I ever-so-gingerly pressed the blade of the knife into the tip of my finger.

Nothing. It didn’t cut me at all. Just a little indent remained where I had pushed with increasing force, at first genuinely curious but then daring the blade to cut me.

With a slight frown and a shrug, I haul off and stab the thing into the table. My mom picks up with the shrieking again, and everyone is yelling at me to stop. I cringe and make the excuse that I just wanted to know, just wanted to see if it would keep cutting things, but no one seemed to listen.

I roll my eyes and inform my mom that I’m going to get a regular butter knife. Standing up, the chair loudly scraping the floor while I pushed up off the table jostling the whole thing, I maintain everyone’s attention as I take the little knife into the kitchen.

I think about putting it right back in the silverware box, but figure the polite thing to do was to wash the thing first. I go to the sink and try to run the blade under the water, but the water just sort of avoids the blade. Ever hold something staticky up to running tap water? And the water bends and gets pushed away by the… whatever static stuff is going on there? That’s what it did around the blade. At a loss, but wanting to wipe the knife clean of all the butter and… table-bits, I grab a dish towel and wipe it off, careful to avoid the edge of the blade. There were still little cuts in the cloth when I had finished, though.

Still under the gaze of most of my family, I return to the cabinet, making sure to hold the blade in one hand so it wouldn’t ruin anything else. Retrieving the box, I replace the butter knife in its perfectly sized little groove and just kind of stare at it for a second. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to do anything… weird. Or, you know, anything else weird. But it didn’t. It just sat there, shiny as ever.

Before returning to the dining room, I rifle through a drawer and produce a small-ish knife that looks enough like a freakin’ butter knife. Heading back to the table, I stand at the head and, before sitting down, press the blade of this knife into the tablecloth, despite objections from my mom.

When the knife doesn’t do any damage, I sit down with a huff, explaining that I was just checking, and this knife should work. I hand it off to my mom who, now actually capable of holding the thing, carefully helps herself to a pad of butter. When nothing odd happens, I give her a slice of bread, then ask her where another butter dish is, since we should probably throw this one out. She meekly utters the directions for another butter dish (yeah, that’s right, apparently people have more than one butter dish), and I stand up again to go get it.

With the busted butter dish gone and a normal butter knife in use, everyone eats in silence.  Soon we all resumed normal conversation, my cousin turned back to her phone, and the cuts in the table cloth were decidedly ignored. And I mean, if that’s not how a healthy family copes with their issues, then I don’t know what is.

[aardvark-123]

Gensokyo Festival Day 15: Attack on Watermelon

Here’s a cute little story about Tenshi’s quiet introspection with Suika, and nothing else:

(Yeah, right.)

When Reimu first codified the spell-card rules, she tucked a very pertinent paragraph in among pages and pages of waffle about the precise definition of "a bullet". The so-called Blazing Fist Clause stated that, if all parties involved thought it would be fun and there was no risk of collateral damage, people were allowed to forget about danmaku and just wail on each other.

Although most Gensokyans had already fallen in love with spell-cards, Suika Ibuki was eager for a good punch-up. After several melee-centric Incidents, Reimu wrote a set of variant spell-card rules for large, complicated brawls and hand-to-hand duels. Energy levels in the Eastern Wonderland had never been higher.

"Oi, Tenshi! Are you home?!"

"Urf..." Tenshi slowly pried her eyelids apart and immediately wished she hadn't. Going to one of her mother's all-night dance parties had been a mistake; mainstream Celestial fun times always took it out of her. "More or less... Who are you?"

"It'sh me, of courshe!" Suika hiccupped loudly. "Your mum'sh planning a, like, a short of poetry recital-"

"Tell her to kill herself." Tenshi buried her head under the pillow and tried to get back to her dream. Let's see, Marisa was just about to take her bloomers off-

"Come on, lazy-bonesh, get up!"

A small, pudgy hand grasped Tenshi by the forearm. Before she could react, she was being swung wildly above Suika's head.

"That'sh more like it! Get up an'... an' carp the diadem!" Suika threw Tenshi into her private peach grove.

"Owww..." Tenshi pulled a few twigs out of her hair and wiped the worst of the peach juice off her nightshirt. "What time is it?"

"I jusht woke up."

"That late?!" gasped Tenshi. "I'd better go and... do something! Or whatever. Uh, feel free to make yourself at home."

Suika took a bleary look at Tenshi's place. It wasn't much of a home; just a futon, a bookshelf, a stove and some weights, plus a few well-watered peach trees.

"Help yourself to my library," added Tenshi, selecting a few tasty-looking peaches from her trees. "Have you had breakfast? I've got some bread and cheese under my bed for people who aren't Celestials. It'll be a bit flat and pongy, but you might like it."

"Uh... I don't wanna imposhe..." It wasn't much of a library; just a few yuri manga volumes, a copy of 'Journey to the West' and a few dozen Shonen Jump magazines in no particular order. "D'you wanna arm-wreshtle or shomething?"

"No way! Mum broke my arm last night and it still hurts," said Tenshi ruefully. "Apparently I have to wear some kind of jumpsuit if I want to dance. I don't know... She's been on at me to wear more pretty dresses for two hundred years, but the moment she becomes a bloody Celestial-"

"What if, like, we ushed our other armsh?!" cried Suika, glowing with pride over her amazing idea. "I mean, you ushe the one she didn't break, an' I ushe... Um... My equivalent arm!"

"No, thanks." Tenshi plonked herself down on the futon and ate her peaches, crunching the stones between teeth like very small granite boulders.

"Oh, you're no fun..." Suika swatted Tenshi on the shoulder, sending her tumbling into her bookshelves. A heap of paperbacks and splintered wood fell on top of her.

Suika cringed drunkenly. "Whoopsh... Shouldn't'a done that, should I?"

"You absolutely should not!" snapped Tenshi. She marched over to Suika, leaving a trail of mangled bookshelf in her wake, and gave the oni a swift kick in the face. Suika sailed right off the edge of the cloud.

"There we go!" said Tenshi, beaming with pride. "I'm sure that's not going to have any negative consequences whatsoever."

"Shtupid blue-haired meanie... I'll show her!"

"Wha-?" Sanae looked around in amazement. "Lady Suwako, did you hear that?"

Suwako gave Sanae a questioning look. "I didn't hear anything. What did you hear?"

"A voice." Sanae's eyes were wide with fear. "It was coming from over there. Or there, maybe. Or there!" She pointed in three completely different directions.

"That's a big help," said Suwako condescendingly. "It was probably just some youkai playing around. Come on, let's get back to-"

"I'm coming for you, Tenshi! Jusht wait 'til I work out which way ish up, I'll be out of thish shwamp in a jiffy!"

Sanae and Suwako almost jumped out of their skins. There was no mistaking it this time; a voice was coming from the muddy ditch next to the path.

Suwako stepped over a few brambles and approached the ditch. "Hello?! Anyone in there?!"

Something stirred among the reeds and sludge. "I think I am," the voice declared, bubbling up through the murky water. "I kind of fell in, and I can't sheem to, y'know, get out..."

"Are you stuck or just drunk?" asked Suwako.

Sanae shifted nervously. "I don't think we should stick around..."

"Come on, it's not as if that thing could beat the two of us!" said Suwako, smiling cockily.

"Whaddaya mean, 'thing'?! I am an oni!" The ditch bubbled and gurgled angrily as its resident spoke. "I'm the greatesht of them all, I am! Shuika Ikubi! I mean Ibiku! Whatever!"

Sanae looked at Suwako, who shrugged broadly.

"Tenshi short of kicked me offa' her cloud," Suika explained. "I'm gonna go an' shmash up Heaven, jusht ash shoon ash I can get out..."

Sanae gasped. "Smash up Heaven?! You can't! People live there!"

"They desherve it!" shnapped- sorry, snapped Suika. "It ish a bit high up, though... Maybe I'll jusht shmash up a few shrinesh, shee if Tenshi comesh down to try an' shtop me."

Now it was Suwako's turn to gasp. "But we live in a shrine!"

"Hey, great! You can show me where it ish!" said Suika delightedly.

"No way! If you even touch our shrine, I'll mash you!" snapped Suwako. "Come on, Sanae, we don't need to bother with her."

Suika exploded out of the ditch, showering Sanae and Suwako in mud and brackish water. Within a matter of seconds she was towering over them, growing taller at an incredible rate.

Suwako groaned. "I suppose I stand corrected."

Sanae slung Suwako over her shoulder and booked it.

Suika's terrible rampage started out as nothing more than a drunken totter over the meadows, with the now hundred-metre-tall oni kicking over the occasional tree. However, she soon set her sights on Youkai Mountain, at which point Kanako decided to do something.

"And I believe I know just the thing!" she added, smiling a dangerous serpentine smile.

"Really?" Suwako was not convinced. "We've hardly tested him, and there's no telling what might happen if he blows up with us still inside..."

"Oh, do let's go, Lady Suwako! It'll be so much fun!" pleaded Sanae.

"Fine. If we all die horribly, I'm blaming you, Kanako."

The goddesses flew to the peak of Youkai Mountain as fast as they could. A youkai from the Former Capital of Former Hell was already waiting for them, her broken wagon wheel blazing around her neck. She led them through the long, winding tunnel to the secret hangar.

The kappas, the tengu and all the people of the underground city had come together to build their new protector. As tall as a skyscraper and built almost entirely with recycled materials, he was truly a sight to behold.

Sanae slid into the pilot's seat, strapped herself in and immediately began examining the readouts. "Reactor at full capacity! Uranium reserves at ninety-seven percent! Main fuel tanks at one hundred percent in both arms!"

"Pilot's voice reaching critical annoyance levels! Recommend immediate smack upside the head!" said Kanako warningly.

"Sorry. I'm just so excited..." said Sanae sheepishly. "Everything seems all right. Can we get going?"

"Now's as good a time as any." Kanako activated the intercom system. "All systems are operational. Someone open the door, chop-chop!"

The peak of the mountain creaked slowly open, dropping half a ton of snow on top of a passing tengu. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the mech's windscreens, almost dazzling Sanae after her brief spell in the dark.

"All right, Sanae, bring us slowly up out of the mountain-"

Sanae floored the accelerator. "Bring light to the tear-stained Gensokyo! Now, with all your might! Unleash your light, Super Robot! Hisoutensoku, ADVANCE!"

[covid19updater]

COVID19 UPDATES 03/27/2020

Livestream of FDNY radio traffic for a taste of the battle being fought: LINK

WRAPPING UP WEEK 2 OF FULLTIME TELEWORK, THIS CAPTURES THE NEW NORMAL:

RUMINT (PA): Hospital INTEL (eastern PA). Currently on 14 day quarantine from work in the ER. Hospitals running out of everything. Don't go outside. Getting bad out there.

US: U.S. coronavirus cases: - New York: 37,738 (385 deaths) - New Jersey: 6,876 (81 deaths) - California: 3,718 (78 deaths) - Michigan: 2,856 (60 deaths) - Washington: 2,580 (132 deaths) - Illinois: 2,538 (26 deaths) - Massachusetts: 2,417 (25 deaths) - Louisiana: 2,305 (83 deaths)

France: BREAKING - A teenager has died from #COVID19 for the first time in France - the 16-year-old patient died in the Paris region, confirmed the French Health Minister.

NYC: NEW: Five hundred more cops called in sick Thursday — leaving NYPD without 11 percent of its officers who patrol the city streets as the coronavirus continues to disrupt staffing in the department, The Post has learned.

Georgia: Georgia's worst-hit hospital fills 3 ICU units with 'critically ill' coronavirus patients. LINK

RUMINT (Massachusetts): Update on my family member. Started showing symptoms on Monday.He took a turn for the worse today started having severe coughing fits and his temp jumped to 103. His wife called the hospital, they assigned her a number when his number is up an ambulance will pick him up. Took about 20 to 30 mins before an ambulance came to get him. His wife is also symptomatic they have been married for just over 60 years. It's a sad day. This is where we are now in MA.You have to wait in line at home before they come and get you. This is going to get so much worse.

Michigan: Michigan 2856 cases 60 deaths

World: With Few Willing to Fly, Airliners Are Transforming Into Cargo Planes LINK

US: Potential impact of idiotic Spring Breakers. LINK

World: Covid-19: Up to 10% of recovered patients test positive later, say Wuhan doctors LINK

RUMINT:  Nurse here, boots on the ground checking in: Seeing a lot of patients come in for rule out of course. The sickies who are looking septic and need respiratory support (from NC to high flow to vent) are often young--ive seen 20s-50s. A few have "poop colored" sputum...not rusty, but brown. I've had a truly shitty day as a few on my team (that covers the entire hospital including ER, ICU and COVID unit) arent being as diligent and are putting myself and others at risk. They think I'm being over anxious and micromanaging. Suit yourself...but since 98% of patients whether covid, rule out or not have barking coughs and need oxygen...I'm not taking chances. Its disheartening and I came this close to either flipping out or walking out. And yes, PPE shortage is real as hell and too scary. Our hospital system actually approved a pattern for cloth masks to be sewn. We are encouraged to seek out our own respirators/N95s as the current supply will only go so far and only last so many uses.

Iran: Iranian media reports nearly 300 people have been killed and more than 1,000 sickened by ingesting toxic methanol across the Islamic Republic out of the false belief it kills the new coronavirus - AP

UK: The Government has written to all local authorities in England asking them to house all people sleeping rough,those in hostels and night shelters by the weekend in a bid to protect people during the covid-19 outbreak

Spain: Spain Returns 1st Faulty Batch Test Kits To China As They Failed To Work; Spanish Association Of Microbiologists (Seimc) Warned That The Testing Kits In This Batch Performed With An Accuracy Level Of Under 30%

UK: Prime Minister Boris Johnson tested positive for Covid 19

Spain: SPAIN'S HEALTH EMERGENCY CHIEF SAYS 9,444 HEALTH WORKERS TESTED POSITIVE TO CORONAVIRUS

Italy: HEAD OF ITALY'S NATIONAL HEALTH COUNCIL SAYS ON THE BASIS OF THE DATA IT IS INEVITABLE THAT ITALY'S LOCKDOWN MUST BE EXTENDED BEYOND CURRENT APRIL 3 DATE

Massachusetts: 8 Boston Police Officers have tested positive for Corona Virus. LINK

UK: UK HEALTH SECRETARY HANCOCK TESTS POSITIVE - SELF ISOLATING AT HOME, SYMPTOMS MILD

RUMINT (New York): My cousin is a nurse in New York, she texted me this. I haven’t personally taken care of any covid patients yet thank god but I’m being transferred to a covid unit on Monday which I’m not looking forward to.. more worried about my family than myself, I don’t want to infect anyone when I get home. But what you see on the news is real, lots of people being ventilated, it’s so sad/scary and the hospitals don’t even have enough masks/ protective gear for us it’s so terrible; can’t wait for this to all be over!! New York is truly a mess we pretty much are on lock down.

RUMINT (Mississippi): Good morning! Sipping my coffee getting ready to go to work. Got word last night that due to low census, they are CUTTING nurses in the ER by 4. I cannot tell you how this is going to crush the morale of the already stressed out nurses I work with. I no longer feel guilty about leaving. That place is going to kill people with their incompetence. They cite "budget" reasons. Um, you've already budgeted for the minimal staffing for the year, which is 12 nurses a shift, so that shit doesn't fly with me. One day the people will come back with a vengeance and the nurses will be the one's to suffer, not management. Fuckers. The non-emergent people have heeded the warning to stay away from the ER unless you are having a CVA, MI, Bleeding or have a bone showing. The drop in census is about 50 pts a day which is not that much to me, but the suits think it's significant. That's 2 pts an HOUR. It goes to show the bullshit that usually packs the waiting rooms. Maybe people will realize they can live without running to the ER for stupid stuff that they can treat at home, but I digress. We've had 6 deaths in Mississippi so far. Since we've started testing our cases have steadily gone up. Scary for this sparsely populated state, but I kept telling them it was coming. Nobody seemed to listen or care until it was on their doorstep.

Connecticut: UConn Health doctor arrested after allegedly coughing on medical employees intentionally LINK

NYC: The NYPD has lost their 1st member of their department from the corona virus.

World: Two sailors aboard another aircraft carrier, Japan-based USS Ronald Reagan, have tested positive for Covid-19: U.S. officials The naval base outside Tokyo where Reagan is currently pier-side has now been put on lockdown through the weekend.

Italy: Italy Cases +5959 in last 24 hrs. Deaths +919 in last 24 hrs.

NYC: From listening to the FDNY radio traffic livestream (link at top of today’s post) since 6am this morning, I have personally heard a LOT of calls go out for respiratory distress that have then been upgraded to CPR in progress. Not good.

World: WHO'S TEDROS SAYS A VACCINE IS AT LEAST 12-18 MONTHS AWAY #CoronavirusOutbreak

NY: #NewYork to build eight temporary hospitals to meet an expected surge in #coronavirus patients: @NYGovCuomo

California: California Governor Gavin Newsom: "We project that roughly 56 percent of our population -- 25.5 million people -- will be infected with the virus over an eight-week period."

UK: BREAKING: Birmingham Airport (#UK) confirmed as temporary mortuary site to house 1,500 bodies in #coronavirus pandemic.

US/World: #BREAKING: 4 dead aboard Holland America Zaandam. Ship is currently off the coast of Panama and intends to dock at Port Everglades next week.  There are reports from Panama that the Zaandam has been denied crossing the Panama Canal. That could be why it appears to be holding right now.

Michigan:  Mental breakdown of crying ICU nurse from Michigan hospital after 13 hour shift. War zone conditions. LINK

Italy: The list of doctors who died for Covid-19 from north to south Italy is growing hour by hour. The total reached 51 deaths, learns from the Federation of doctors' orders.

China: China Shuts Down All Cinemas, Again

NYC: More than 500 members of the NYPD have now contracted the coronavirus, a spokesman said.- 486 uniformed officers  - 71 civilians employees. The number of cops out sick was not immediately known.

NYC: DELIVERY TRUCKS REFUSING TO ENTER NEW YORK CITY ON CORONAVIRUS FEARS: MSNBC

New Jersey: Lakewood Police, where the most #coronavirus cases are in Ocean County, break up another wedding, @OCPONJ files charge as state & @NewJerseyOAG get serious about large gatherings.

Texas: Woman describes sister’s battle with COVID19. LINK

Texas: 36% of hospitalized patients require admission to the ICU, Dallas County officials say

California: It’s incredible and eerie at the same time. A MASH unit being set up by the Air @CalGuard; at the Santa Clara Convention Center. This is for the expected surge of #COVID19 next week. 250 beds for those discharged by hospital but still ordered to isolate. LINK

France:  LATEST DEATH TOLL IN FRANCE FROM CORONAVIRUS STANDS AT 1,995 DEATHS (VS 1,696) - PUBLIC HEALTH OFFICIAL

World: Holland America says 53 guests and 85 crew have flue like symptoms on the Zaandam.There are 4 doctors and 4 nurses onboard. The 4 guests who passed away were older, the cruise line says. The cruise left Buenos Aires on March 7th. No one has been off the ship since March 14th.

Ohio: Citing @ClevelandClinic, @GovMikeDeWine says pandemic will "kick in much harder" in about 2 weeks, & peak may not come until mid-May. State will likely have to triple its hospital capacity.

RUMINT (Rhode Island): Some backwoods intel that the National Guard is on the RI-CT border on RT 95 stopping cars from NY and NJ from entering RI

NYC: NBC News: Right now the FDNY has approximately 170 calls holding, which means that if you don't have a serious medical issue you may be waiting awhile for an ambulance.

Turkey: BREAKING - Turkey’s President is about to give a national address about #COVID19 following two rapid acceleration days taking the coronavirus case count past 5,000. Rumors of a shutdown.

California: #BREAKING: In less than a week, LA County has more than tripled in its number of confirmed cases, according to Los Angeles County Public Health Director Dr. Barbara Ferrer.

Ohio: (@GovMikeDeWine) If you don't believe that we could see 10,000 new cases a day -- We've tried to describe what the science tells us. Hospitals looking at the modeling and say that this is coming. It's here.The evidence indicates that cases will double every six days. This is a train that is moving. It starts slowly, but it will start moving faster and faster and faster.

NY: COMMANDING GENERAL OF U.S. ARMY CORPS OF ENGINEERS SAYS PLANS ON HAVING 2,900 ROOMS READY FOR NON-CORONAVIRUS PATIENTS IN JAVITS CENTER NEW YORK BY MONDAY

World: Coronavirus damages the heart after attacking the lungs, new study reveals LINK

California: "It's difficult for me to imagine that it won't happen here," says @MayorOfLA Eric Garcetti who predicts we're six to 12 days behind NYC in terms of #COVID19 cases. @KNX1070

South Carolina: SOUTH CAROLINA GOVERNOR ANNOUNCES THAT ANYONE ENTERING THE STATE FROM NEW YORK, NEW JERSEY, CONNECTICUT AND NEW ORLEANS WILL BE QUARANTINED FOR 14 DAYS - WMBF

Massachusetts: Boston to open a First a Responders only Covid-19 testing site at Suffolk Downs. LINK

China: Fighting erupts at Chinese bridge between Hubei, Jiangxi provinces. LINK

[nic-and-annie-in-france]

October Break: Hiking in UK and Ireland

Since we had kind of reached our fill of big cities, museums, and palaces last year, the trip I planned for our first vacation this year mostly focused on hiking and sightseeing in nature. Did you know that the British usually say “walking” when Americans would say “hiking”? I think they’re just being modest.

It was nice to be around our fellow English-speakers for a change. However, in Scotland and Ireland, I sometimes had more difficulty understanding English spoken with the regional accents than I would have understanding French!

This was our itinerary:

Day 1: Traveling Aix-les-Bains > Chambéry > Geneva > London Luton Airport > Oxford

Day 2: The Cotswolds AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty)

Day 3: Sightseeing in Oxford, traveling Oxford > Manchester

Day 4: The Peak District

Day 5: Traveling Manchester > Kendal, Sightseeing in the Lake District

Day 6: The Lake District

Day 7: Traveling Kendal > Glasgow, lunch with K+A, relaxing (I had planned for us to visit Loch Lomond but a combination of lack of planning, gloomy weather, and fatigue made us nix it)

Day 8: Scottish Highlands

Day 9: Sightseeing in Edinburgh, traveling Glasgow > Belfast (via ferry)

Day 10: Giant’s Causeway

Day 11: Traveling Belfast > Dublin > Galway, sightseeing in Galway

Day 12: Connemara National Park

Day 13: Cliffs of Moher, traveling Galway > Cork

Day 14: Killarney National Park

Day 15: Traveling Cork > London Heathrow > Geneva > Culoz > Aix-les-Bains

And here are our miles walked over that time:

The weather/the season. The extended forecast for the UK and Ireland before we left showed rain every single day. However, we only got rained on less than half the time! I knew it was too much to ask for a repeat of the miraculously sunny vacation we had in Paris/Normandy in February, but I was still happy with the amount of dry weather we had. We also had the good fortune of being there to see the fall colors at their very best. Even our rainy and foggy days were enjoyable because of the cozy autumn ambiance.

Going car-less. I was worried that we would have trouble getting out to the trailheads if we relied solely on public buses and trains, but it mostly turned out to be fine. Let’s just say that in our experience, the British transport systems are much more punctual than the Irish ones! Riding instead of driving gave us both the opportunity to relax and enjoy the scenery as we traveled from place to place. Buses and trains in the area almost always had wifi or USB charging onboard (or both), which was an extra bonus because it alleviated my anxieties about missing our stop (we could follow the bus on Google Maps) and/or about my phone dying.

Walkers’ rights and public rights of way. In planning for the trip, I learned that in England, walkers/hikers have organized into formal clubs and won the legal right to have public footpaths and “rights of way” all over the country. I’m still kind of unclear on how this works legally (I googled “Can you just walk anywhere in England,” it didn’t help much), but we took full advantage of these walkers’ rights during our time in the region. We took paths that went through practically infinite sheep pastures, climbing over stiles or letting ourselves through cattle gates as necessary. I think it’s so nice that the country allows people to access the natural beauty of the countryside in a way that really doesn’t harm people’s private property much at all. The sheep never seemed to mind us, after all. It was great to have access to all these places, but even better was the way the English culture has helped to facilitate and accommodate walkers on their journeys. On several different websites I was able to find not only maps of hiking routes, but detailed turn-by-turn instructions for the routes which kept me, a navigationally challenged person, on the right path every time.

No buses in the Cotswolds. Blackberries. Our first hiking day was a Sunday, and no public buses run in the Cotswolds AONB on Sundays. We therefore had to rely on trains alone to reach a trailhead, so our options for starting and ending points were limited. We found a suitable out-and-back trail running from a village called Moreton-in-Marsh to another one called Stow-on-the-Wold. The map and instructions I found for it listed everything in kilometers instead of miles, so when I saw the distance involved, I assumed it wouldn’t be that much in miles without ever actually bothering to do the calculation. By the time we got back to our Airbnb in the evening, we had walked about 17 miles. Oops. Fortunately, our route that day had us pass by lots of hedgerows, and lots of those hedgerows had blackberries growing in them. At first we were hesitant to eat any of them, but as we walked further and further, and our stomachs got hungrier and hungrier, we were eating them by the handful. I’m still not sure whether to feel guilty about this; the blackberries didn’t belong to us, but the sheep in the adjacent pasture could never have reached them, and it seemed pretty unlikely that anyone was growing them on purpose. All I know is that these possibly-sinful blackberries sustained us on our accidentally super long trek that day, and we were both very thankful for them.

The bus at the Lake District. Bus tickets in the Lake District were not sold per ride, but per day, and they were pretty expensive. I was sad we had to pay so much just to get from one town to the next. They turned out to be one of the best value parts of our whole trip! First of all, a ride that is only 25 miles as the crow flies takes an hour and a half. Make it round trip and that makes three whole hours of your day. This sounds like the ride would be tedious and boring, but with the jaw-dropping scenery to look at the whole time, it was so much fun. I listened to The Prisoner of Azkaban on audiobook the whole time and tried to take pictures out the dirty bus window, nudging Nicolas every 30 seconds to show him another beautiful mountainside or lake. The icing on the cake was that the bus driver on the second day gave us a discount for our tickets!

Lunch with K+A. K and I usually check in with each other at the beginning of each school break to see what the other one’s plans are. On our second night, K texted me saying they were in Ireland and planned to go to Scotland later in the week. I told her it sounded like we were doing the same trip, just traveling in opposite directions. Sure enough, we realized that we would all be in Glasgow at the same time, so we planned to have lunch together. K suggested a restaurant where we could eat a three-course meal for £10 apiece, so we went there and caught up on our school years so far and compared notes on our travel itineraries. They had to catch a train soon after their meal, so we didn’t get to hang out for long, but it was nice to see some friendly faces in an unexpected place.

The ferry. We opted to take a ferry instead of a plane from Glasgow to Belfast. I expected that we would have to stand out in the dark and cold for two hours as we waited to arrive in Northern Ireland. The ferry turned out to be more like a cruise ship than the little Valley View ferry I’m used to. We sat in a huge lounge with lots of comfy armchairs and took a nap as we waited to reach the other side of the sea. There were at least two restaurants on board, and there was one room with a large TV where we were warned not to sit because the ferry was expecting four hundred soccer hooligans to come watch a game there. I also saw a sign for a Swedish spa on a different deck. It was a really cool way to travel—I wished the ride had been a bit longer!

Molly the pub dog and George the hostel cat. One of the things we miss most about home is the availability of our friends’ and families’ pets to play with and snuggle. It’s rare that we feel comfortable enough to interact with a stranger’s cat or dog over here. But after another hike in poor weather in Ireland, we stopped in a pub that happened to have a border collie named Molly curled up in front of the fire. As we sipped our coffee, Molly periodically got up from her spot by the fire and visited the tables of the people in the pub. We showered her with so much affection that she laid down under our table and let us rub her belly (excuse the poor quality picture). One of the hostels we stayed at had a permanent resident in George, the ginger cat who was usually found curled up on a window seat in the hallway. Whenever we came across him we gave him a quick pat too.

Traditional foods. Since Great Britain and Ireland are typically colder and rainier than France, their food is typically cozier and heartier. We had bangers and mash, scotch pie, haggis, fish and chips, English breakfasts, Irish stew, black pudding, and steak and ale pie. Yum on all counts.

Non-traditional foods. We were walking to our Airbnb in Manchester when a poster for Taco Bell caught our eye. Although McDonald’s, KFC, and Burger King are commonplace in Europe, we’ve never seen a Taco Bell. We immediately made plans to locate the TB and give it a try, and our dinner there the next evening didn’t disappoint. Although we had to pay about twice as much for it as we do at home, it was worth it to taste our favorite American comfort food so far from home. We also ate an entire Domino’s pizza in a public bus station. I felt like a criminal the whole time, but it was tasty.

Irish music. I love traditional Irish music. In grad school, I had a Spotify playlist of jigs and reels that was perfect for studying to because it was upbeat enough to keep me awake but instrumental enough that the lyrics wouldn’t distract me. We spent the last night of the trip in an Irish bar in Cork where musicians had gathered to play trad music. Music in a cheery pub was a nice complement to a day spent on a cold, rainy walk, as well as a perfect conclusion to our whole vacation. 

[gaudeixcc]

Peloton News – Germany calling

Last weekend I rode with 2 English riders who speak German. It’s not their natural language, but since they are both taking coin out of Merkel’s economy, I guess it made sense to put some effort in and learn.

JT has been firing employees in Germany for a couple of years now and is getting more and more comfortable despatching the walking dead with a Bavarian lilt. Neil, who has a proper job it turns out, has been there a similar amount of time.

Unlike the usual peloton career, Neil’s job is making real things. On deeper discussion, turns out he’s made the engine for one of the early hot hatches, the good old Ford focus ST170. He’s actually designed and made the thing. With his team of people. This is indeed useful and pretty impressive. James just yells at people. Dripping wanders the country with his health and safety clipboard and pencil round his neck, Macca drives a bus (albeit in the sky), RTA is in Insurance marketing so no doubt spends his days imagineering. The rest of us, well, it’s non-too impressive is it fellas..? I mean, me being able to navigate post-it notes and a flip chart stacks up pretty poorly against a man who makes engines for Henry’s firm.

Anyway, Neil was very modest about the whole thing, so I just sat there quietly hoping he was going to be shit at cycling so it would make me feel better.

He wasn’t. Bollocks.

Anyway, more of that shortly.

In numerous cafés and restaurants my 2 faux-Germans baffled me with what looked like pretty good conversational German deployed to numerous waiting staff. The waiting staff responded in kind and clearly communication was occurring which everyone understood.

Everyone that is, except me.

I sat there feeling like somebody’s Granny. Listening to the waiter, then turning to James and half shouting ‘what did he say?’

I don’t understand James at the best of times. I understand him even less when he is barking his shouty orders to menials in verse I don’t follow.

Still, German and indeed Germany suits JT. There is a ruthless efficiency to the country that perfectly apes our diminutive chums’ approach to life and work.

On the last night after 2 days of amazing/horrific bicycling, JT took me to the local German pub. We marched into the gaff… through the gaff… and out the other side into the Garden. There must have been half a thousand people in the Garden, all sat at benches drinking massive glasses of lager and eating food.

‘See the blue table clothes?’ squeaks JT ‘That’s where you can buy beer from here but bring your own food’.

A-huh.

‘See those table over there’ Sayeth James with a pointy finger that has dispatched many a quivering underling from his office on the 20th floor of Sky towers. ‘Table service’.

Er…ok.

‘and this section is self-service. Follow me’.

The next 90 seconds were a bit of a blur. But here goes an accurate (for once) account of what happened next.

James orders me a plate of Pork knuckle from a large German man who looks like he’s lived on nothing else. Within seconds it’s on my plate with a dumpling and gravy.

‘Veg James?’…… The place went quiet….James’ eyes narrowed and also spoke (a first for eyes).  ‘Oh do fuck off’ they said.

No veg then.

5 seconds later we were at another counter. Behind this one another large German stood with his back to us. He was drawing lager from a cask which could have easily accommodated a cow. It looked like this was wasn’t just his job, it wasn’t his vocation, it wasn’t even his dream. It was his utter and complete meaning. Without even turning he placed a pulled litre of lager firmly onto the counter. James took it and put it on my tray. 5 seconds later he’d done it again, another lager on the counter. No looking. No talking. No contact. Just lager. James nabbed the next one up and the hurried me off the counter number 3.

Payment.

James paid for both within seconds (a first) and noted down in his little leather-bound accounting ledger the transaction and proposed apportionment (muscle memory).

We sat down.

90 seconds. Seriously. Breath-taking efficiency which has been giving JT wet dreams since the moment he landed in Munich central.

The food and beer were sensational. I had been dreaming of both during the 2 cycling days. Meat on a big bone accompanied by lager. Don’t over complicate perfection with greenery and other such fripperies.  

We both sat there and reflected on the preceding coupla days.

‘Well, I’m getting an electric bike. That’s all there is to it’.

JT in one of the peloton’s strongest riders. Surely a couple of German/Austrian hills can’t do this to a man? I know he’s not done much training, but how hard can riding a bicycle up a hill be for pities sake?

Pretty hard is the answer to that one.

Near the town of Zell am See, nestled in the Austrian alps, lies a mountain. Großglockner. This is the highest peak in the Austrian alps and has been a pass for human traffic for over 3,500 years. The road probably wasn’t tarmacked back then and they definitely didn’t charge 35 Euros to haul your car up and down the mountain like they do now. Still, with around 2,000 meters of climbing for nearly 20k, 8% as an average was always going to be tough.

Interesting fact number 1. James has done next to no training. Interesting fact number 2. I have done quite a bit of training. Fact 3. I have also been consistent with shovelling Haribo and Dolly mixture down my greedy gullet of recent. This could all be very interesting indeed.

Obligatory photos are taken at the foot of the hill before we set off.

Now I am in no hurry to bust a gut on this one. We have the Pyrenees beckoning and for JT and I, this is very much ‘getting your eye in’ type of stuff.

Still, it doesn’t stop me putting an initial sprint in after 15 seconds on the hill. I’m in the lead. I’m already regretting having done that. Normal order resumes as Neil and JT gently pedal past, James shaking his head slowly.

We all settle in to a rhythm. Neil has a fast-paced cadence which is I suspect measurably accurate and consistent to within 0.05 rpm. He looks professional with his 95 revolutions every minute. I have a cadence of similar accuracy, the only difference being I occasionally mash the pedals, more often than not vary the speed of rotation between about 5-15 rpm, sometimes I kick over the top, sometimes I drag back and lift, sometimes I go for the fluid movement (but for never more than 8 pedal strokes in a row). Other than that, in comparing form we could literally be cycling brothers…

The hill is hard. The 8% climb is unrelenting. And the weather is starting to degrade. Gentle drizzle spits in and out of existence and whilst warm, clothes are starting to cloy to skin.

Unusually for a ride with JT, he doesn’t fuck right off into the future to leave me to my own mental demons. He’s up the road from me, but not that far. Probably about 100 meters or so.

We climb. The scenery is stunning, despite cloud significantly obscuring the best views.

Within half an hour we are high high up. 8% of climbing has seen us well into the sky. Trouble is, inside my head I can hear the voices complaining loudly about the effort…the drudge… the slog. It is hard going. You forget what proper hill work is like. We remember all too easily the tea and slice of cake at the crest of previous efforts, followed by the flowing downhill of ribboned tarmac folded across alpine pastures. Today is stark and real. This stuff is tough. I project forward to the Pyrenees. I know James is ahead of me doing exactly the same thing.

Training wise neither of us are in the ‘too little, too late’ category and the Pyrenees may be steadier in gradient. Still, a resolve is being independently crafted by both of us to put some real effort into quality training in the remaining weeks.

Of course, I’m now in Turkey caning the ‘all you can eat’ buffet and drinking the resort out of pina coladas and Baileys. Other than that, quality training is my mantra. (There is no Haribo at this hotel. I have written to governor of the local province to ask him what the flaming heck is going on under his watch. I’ve had to resort to eating iced buns for goodness sake. I’m battling through the obvious discomfort this whole situation is causing me).

It’s an hour into the climb. JT and I are now cycling together. For a period of time I’ve actually been ahead. This is a most unusual experience. It’s like a different universe where I am the one with cycling talent. JT is the one who is frustrated and annoyed. I think if provoked, there may even be a little wheelie in the locker too…. But I’m too tired to irk him with this sort of behaviour. Instead, we both push on.

Neil is ahead and is looking comfortable (well, as comfortable as you can be on an increasingly cold and wet mountain).

We pass a sign showing the 1,900 meter mark. As a group we commit to go to 2,000 meters. It’s a good mental stimulus. Something to focus on. The signs come and go and the metric altitude counter seems to only inch up (I thought about that sentence for too long!).

We round a corner, JT in front, expecting to see the 2,000 meter sign. It’s not there! I can literally see the man deflate in front of me. He stops. Arms folded across bars. Head hanging. He’s in a tough spot. We’ve all been there. Ready to hurl your bike off the side of a mountain and just sit your arse down. It’s brutal. It’s miserable. It’s cycling.

We cross the road into a lay-by and call Neil back. As we discuss options, a cloud literally comes down the road toward us. A cloud. Actually, on the road. This is all JT and I need. I reach into JT’s imaginary rucksack and haul out the white towel and hurl it up the road. That’s it. We are done. Wheels about and off we coast.

The next 15 minutes are technically quite challenging. Slick roads, winds and drizzle combined with increasing cold. I’ve got the brakes applied for nearly the whole duration of the decent. My new wheels are great, but I’ve not ridden these tyres before. My old Conti 4,000’s gave ultra-confidence and I’m just getting my eye in with these Bontragers.

I over-cook one or two turns, but other than that, we were down a lot quicker than we were up.

We now have a flat 15 or so K before we get back to the hotel.

There is a tiredness in the team. Weariness. Like post-lunch toddlers, nap time is upon us. We have no choice. We look at the stats and the numbers don’t quite tell the story of the ride. That consistent gradient was the real killer. Combine that with JT’s lack of prep (my ok prep, ok-ish weight and less than ok age these days) and reality bites. We talk about comparative difficulty. This is probably up there with a Stelvio/Croix de Fer… that sort of thing.

That evening at drinks, a funny thing became apparent. Zell am See is a small town in the Austrian state of Slatzberg. Nothing funny there you would have thought. We were munching down on a burger post-pint and I slowly became aware of the general population mix and ethnicity. There seemed to be a fair few Gulf state rich folk and their families milling about the place. When I say a fair few, I would estimate that the general tourist population was 75% Gulf state. I’d definitely not noticed this proportional representation anywhere else whilst in Austria/Germany. So what gives?

JT is hardwired to the Internet and quickly found an answer.

Apparently back in the day, some smart bod on the town council thought that their picturesque town, crystal clear lakes and mountainous back-drop was an absolute shoo-in for the description of paradise laid out in the Quran. And so off started a spectacularly successful marketing campaign directed Emirates way. And so, every summer, thousands upon thousands of well-shod Arabs head toward this little town to get out of the desert heat and spend some of their hard earned on Austrian trinkets and general tourist junk. They even had a shop there selling hookah pipes. Although I’m not sure which foolish gulf resident is going to rock-up back in Qatar with his genuine Austrian Hookar pipe  and show it off to his mates…. Wouldn’t that be akin to going to the Galapagos to pick up some Kendal mint cake?

Next day saw some more gentle weather. The cycling with picturesque and generally less battering than 24 hour earlier.

There was however one notable exception.

One section stood out. 20% of solid climbing for what turned out to be perhaps a third of a mile.

I don’t think I’ve ever bicycled slower. Out of the saddle and still I reckon I’m doing 3mph.

James is behind me (repeat, James is behind me). It’s funny how such a simple statement can give me such warm comfort.

Anyway, I’m struggling… unbeknownst to me James has been doing my old Alpine skiing trick of traversing. Cheeky fucker. Still, when I threw in my own towel (might be a first that… beaten by a hill) I looked back down the road and was pleased to see that JT had also had enough.

When I re-tell this particular story, James was 700 yards back. When he retells it, he was literally nibbling my rear wheel. Either way, we were both shamed into walking up a steep hill, bike being led up like some tethered goat.

At the top we again pondered the upcoming Pyrenees trip.

There is a little less than 4-weeks before 9 riders of varying levels of fitness attack a Grande Tour and this year there is a definite hint of nervousness.

Some have trained really hard. Some of have trained fairly hard. Some of just trained and some have just thought about training.  

Whichever camp you sit in (and you all know exactly which one that will be), remember that riding in scenery like this is a privilege and we are all lucky to be able to be there, whatever level of training. Memories for life are booked in for 11th September.

Will we have another ‘Moley walking through the saloon doors with tears in his eyes’ moment?

Will we see Macca snatching defeat from the jaws of victory as Damo hunts him, down to the line?

Will ColMac shout ‘Buongiorno’ directly in the face of any local who has the foolishness to catch his gaze?

Who knows. For the first time in years thought the form book is well and truly wide open.

Whilst HRH and RTA will no doubt be dancing near the top of the pack, will Damo’s recent hard-yards see him flirting with the podium?

After those three, the remaining 6 look like a complete and utter shambles of a team. I think I’m going to take a photo of the ‘calamity six’ and make one of those motivational posters out of it.

There is one I’ve seen which shows a silhouette of a guy on a race bike at sunset. The slogan is ‘Effort and determination are the key to going the extra mile’.

The calamity six poster will be ‘Effort. This lot should have fucking put some in’.

So here we go again. Tour upcoming. Nerves a janglin’. Damo’s tuck shop is being stocked as we speak.

Let’s all keep everything crossed for Dripping, his new hip and his knackered back to make it there. If he can do it, the rest of you can pipe down and suffer in silence…!

G19….. this is most definitely going to be a tour to remember.

Hoppo

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 44/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

A vacation they say.

Enjoy the scenery the they say.

Try the food they say.

…Vacation…

"I knew it was too good to be true."

"No talking."

"Sorry, Doc."

Bam.

"It's Doctor Marcoh, dumb ass. We warned all of you of this."

"…"

Tim Marcoh rolled his eyes at Elric's students. How he managed to get himself entangled in this, is beyond himself. Here he was once again in the private section of the library, teaching decoding skills to the brat's students while he goes do who knows what. Should he be surprised? No. It… it's a break from life and he rather enjoy it. To a degree. To a point.

-.-

"You have such lovely children, General~"

"Your son seems such a caring young man, you raised him well."

"Look at him playing with his sister~ So adorable~"

"They must look like their mother~"

Roy gave all the strangers a strained smile, he had decided to take Elicia out of school early to take her out for ice-cream. The only one that tagged along with them is Edward while the others went back to work. All day, people were going on and on about how great of a father he is. How adorable his supposed children are. It didn't help how Elicia made him and Edward wear flower crowns…

"Uncle Roy! Come play with us!"

Roy turned to see that Edward and Elicia had managed to obtain a frisbee. With a chuckle, he got up from the bench he was sitting on and walked over towards them. He did give himself the day off… might as well enjoy it.

-.-

"Once Harry goes off to Hogwarts, he will only be staying here during the summers. Merlin knows coming here during the winter and spring break will be the last thing he'll ever do." Arty stated to Petrina and Vernon Dursley, he went over what the family had to do and the results of that meeting. Severus is currently observing Sirius while he talks to Harry before they take their leave. "Once Black passed his requirements, Harry would be permanently placed in his care."

"How long do you expect that happen?"

Arty raised an eyebrow at Vernon, it made the man face darken several colors of ripe plums to dark black cherries. It was amusing to say the least for the social worker. "We are still dealing with the fact that there is a charm placed in this home that protects him along with your family. Once we figure out how to not only to protect him and yourselves, then we will see what is the state of Harry's god-father at that moment of time."

"Why not bloody hell just give the boy back to him now!"

"Ah, ah, ah… were you not listening? Harry leaves, it will leave this home vulnerable. The boy has left his magical signature here and so on… no need to get further into details. Plus, several individuals want to ensure the kid stays here but to be frank… we need him out of here. And here's the plan for now and for the future of 4 Privet Drive…"

-.-

"Your father was a clever and one of the most talented wizards of our time. One of the greatest men I've ever had the honor of meeting and calling my best friend…"

Snape resisted the urge to say something sarcastic or just respond to how Black is describing his former school bully. As much he doesn't want to speak ill of the dead, someone is going to have to bring that man's memory several down a dozen pegs before Harry's image of the man is destroyed down the lane. "That father of yours had a very mischievous side to him in his youth. Filled with arrogance and boastfulness, bullied and pulled massive harmful pranks on other for fun."

"Snape…" Black growled out under his breath.

"What? A good portion of our classmates agreed with me on this, he caused Silvia O'Sherry to permanently lose her hair for an entire year before we found a proper tonic for her to use to at least have some sort of hair growth."

"…we thought it would have changed her hair color…"

Snape snorted. He looked over at Harry who was seeing him with mystified eyes. "You will hear many things about your father once you enter both your parent's alma mater. A lot of them good but listen to those that have seen him on the opposite side of the mirror. If you don't, what is said about him will only destroy your thoughts and feelings on that man."

"Is that necessary, Snape? Have some respect for the dead."

"I already had my ass handed to Elric due to wanting to cling onto the past. I am simply preparing him for what could be a long road of realizations. If you have any problems with that, then I'll have Mr. Elric talk to you about it… and we both know what happened the last time that occurred."

"How about my mother?"

Snape and Black looked over at Harry, almost forgetting his presence. Black looked away from Harry and took a step back, even if he hates to say this. Snape knew Lily better than himself, and even James. Even after the time the two had a massive ending point in their friendship during their fifth-year. Snape just couldn't take a joke and that resulted to a lot of things…

"Keep in mind you were the one that encouraged him to do that to me."

"Stupid Legilimens…"

"Language." Snape snorted, he waved over Harry to sit next to him on the grass. "Come here. I don't feel like standing up."

Harry looked up at his god-father before he walked over and plopped himself next to Mr. Snape. "How do you know my mother?"

"We…grew up together…"

-.-

"Severus and several of the students informed that you live in a farming and sheep growing community. How did that affect you in wanting to learn alchemy?"

"It was my sh-my father that mainly introduced my brother and I to Alchemy. We helped Granny Pinako when she had a job or healing anyone that needed it. She's Resembool resident automail mechanic, elder, and midwife. My mother provided the medical herbs and had us pass it off to Granny. We never got involved until my work as a State Alchemist had me placed there. I never got along with anyone there. We stayed in and studied…"

"Ah... electricity?"

"Yes. Along with running water, plumbing, and so on."

"Telvi-on?"

"Television? Not exactly. We barely started with the basic functions of it. We prefer to use the radio."

The streams of questions continued on, their surroundings ever changing as the train taking them along with the Alchemy Class heads out to Resembool. It was early in the morning and the sun is barely peaking out from the mountain sides. Students began to wake up and whisper among themselves on the prospects of the rest of their break. They wondered who is waiting for them or if they would wound up in an empty home. Or chaos… chaos. That's good too.

"Are you positive the tents will still work?" Kingsley asked Edward, he along with Bill were sitting across of Edward and Charity.

"Positive. We used them, but we ended up just bunking inside. However, seeing how many there are of us… We will be using them." Edward responded with an audible yawn. "We should be getting there soon. I hope you guys did what you needed to do back at Central, we are not returning back anytime soon."

-.-

Cinnamon.

Pie crust.

Apples.

A mixture of all three filled the air that surrounded the home of the Rockbell's. Edward stood in front of the home, suitcase in hand with everyone else standing behind him. All of them waiting for his signal. Almost as if by some sort of secret signal, the front door opened to reveal Winry Rockbell. "Edward!"

"Winry!" Edward dropped his suitcase and ran towards Winry. Winry laughed aloud as Edward pulled her into his arms and swing her around the yard. "Miss you, miss you, miss you…."

"What got into you?" Winry laughed, she swung her arms around Edward's arms to ensure she did not fall. "We've been apart for longer periods of time."

"That's when we were just friends, now we are engaged and set to marry in a couple of months. I'm marrying the most amazing woman in the entire world!" Edward gushed out, he felt a heavy weight fell from his shoulders at the sight of Winry. The last couple of months of sitting on the edge of his seat, hoping that she remains safe and out of harms way during the conflict between Amestris and Drachma. Now that she is in his arms, Edward felt relief fill within him.

"Alright, alright, Put me down. We have to get ready for your students and out other guest."

"…. other guest…. Please don't tell me…."

"They're not here yet but will be soon."

"Truth…"

-.-

Winry watched from the kitchen window to see Edward helping his student set up tents in the backyard. It was interesting to see as many accidentally somehow created traps with said tents and get caught in said trap. One kid someone managed to fling themselves half way across the yard. The three people that Edward brought along were trying to help but it appeared they were more lost than the kids themselves.

It was amusing to say the least…and sad. Just how sheltered away is their society? Pitiful really.

With a sigh, Winry placed a rag she was wringing and placed it next to the sink. She needed to make a list of items she's going to need from the market and to bring back to Briggs. Walking away from the kitchen to head upstairs to her office/room. She stopped before she even before she took the first step upstairs, a thought just crossed her mind for the first time since she got engaged to Edward.

Will that still be her room once she marries?

Will he expect her to move into his home down the road?

Will he demand her to stop working with automail?

Will she be expected to become a housewife?

More and more questions came to the forefront of Winry's mind. She slowly sat on the bottom step of the stairs, lost in thought. Never once did she and Edward ever talk about what is going to happen after they get married. Perhaps in the back of her mind, she assumed things would go as it has been for who knows how long.

Edward will continue on working with his alchemy or for the Military. Him doing whatever while she stays at home, taking on orders for automail. The same thing they have been doing for years. Now, its different yet the same. Edward became a teacher at a strange school but will be alternating years. Meaning, he'll be spending far more time with her. It'll be different that's for sure, but this time around… they'll be married.

"Winry?"

Winry looked up to see Edward is now standing over her, clearly looking worried. He kneel before her, gently cradling her face. She could feel how one is more softer than the other.

"Are you alright? Is everything okay? Winry?"

"I'm fine Ed."

"Bull. What's wrong?"

"When we get married, I'm not taking your name."

"Okay." Edward shrugged with an eyebrow raised. "I don't see no problem with that. I mean come on, Rockbell Automail. Makes things far more easier for business."

"I don't want to leave Granny here alone."

"I talked to her about this. This place is more than enough for us. If not, we'll have Al use is alchemy to add more rooms or whatever you want."

"I still want to continue with my work."

"When have I ever gave you the impression I wanted you to stop?"

"Never…"

"When I asked you to marry me, I planned that we go on with our lives together. As equals. Well you started with the whole percentage thing and things got-"

Winry tearfully smiled at seeing Edward rumble on and on, mostly going in circles now. It reminded of when he proposed to her at the train station. She felt a heavy weight fall off her shoulders. There was nothing to worry. For now. "I love you."

Edward face turned red, not so much for him rumbling on but for what was said to him. Sure, they've said that phrase to each other before, but that was always said in the phone. Now it is being said face to face. "Love you too."

"I know."

-.-

The magical tents the students had were simple versions than the norm. Each tent contained semi-comfortable sleeping bags, blankets and a single pillow. Each had enough room to stand to move around and also had a floor table to do homework on, along with a charmed candle.

Burbage, Shacklebolt and Weasley are sharing a tent that looked like a small home. It was enough to have the students grumble about it but made sure to keep quiet about it. Mr. Elric stated he'll be sleeping under the stars. He emphasized his point by just bringing out a blanket and pillow. Apparently, he's going to sleep on the roof or porch. Whatever it is.

Mr. Elric said something about watching out for wild animals….?

-.-

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Winry sat up on her bed, grumbling under her breath. Whoever was knocking is going to get a mouthful for waking her up at an untruthful hour. She got up from the bed and grabbed a bathrobe to head downstairs.

Winry glared at the door as the person that was on the other side only continued to knock without any sign of stopping anytime soon. Opening the door to only reveal a pile of boxes and garment bags piled over them. Moving out of the way to see that Sid is carrying the massive pile of stuff and was quickly followed by Izumi, who's carrying folders filled with paper. "Wha…Izumi…. Sid?"

"Gracia is still sick and asked me to go through the details with you as my position as mother of the groom." Izumi smirked as she held up a thick folder that has Winry wondering if she should run for the hills. "Your wedding is taking in a few months and you need to see what we have planned…"

"Oh." Winry replied uneasily.

"Let's start with the dresses. Mustang should be coming over tomorrow with that former student of mine own suit. For a first fitting."

-.-

First day of the official camping trip, making breakfast over a campfire. It was easier said than done. Mr. Edward provided fresh meat, vegetables, fruit, spices, cooking oil, and water, along with camping cookware. He did however take pity and provided several loafs of bread, eggs, a cooking tripod, and long-handled skillets. The older students had the younger student prepare or cut up the food as they start to set up the fire and fixing up the tripod. They decided they were going to chop up the meat and vegetables, season them and place them in an iron skillet that is going to be placed on top of the embers. On another skillet that is going to also be placed on the embers, they plan to make scrambled eggs along with toast. Using the tripod, they plan to boil water with herbs Mr. Edward had picked for them to make tea.

Many of the students were completely out of the element while some went along with the orders that were given to them. Those that did so, took it in stride. This is what the Alchemy Teacher had wanted them to learn. To be self-reliant without the use of magic. At least they had Professor Burbage helping them along with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Shacklebolt.

A loud piercing scream filled the air, causing everyone to look towards the direction of the home. Edward ran towards the home, cursing under his breath all the way. Then another scream filled the air that was quickly followed by a string of curses. Shacklebolt was the only one brave enough to venture inside the home, signaling for everyone to remain quiet to prepare themselves for what could be the worse. That quickly came to the stop when they saw the Alchemy Teacher being thrown out of the home and falling by the students with a loud oomph. Walking through the door is Izumi Curtis who looked like she has glaring red eyes. "The groom is not allowed to see the bride in her weddings dress before the day of the wedding."

"…. Ow…"

-.-

"There is no way I am going to use this as my second dress. I look like a bird!"

"That's what I told everyone, but they were adamant on me bringing it. Try this one."

Izumi handed Winry a garment bag that contained another dress for her to try. Everyone knew the future bride is going to wear her mother's dress during the ceremony but decided to wear a second one for the reception to protect the dress from possible future damage. So far… the first dress out right terrified Winry to no end.

Second dress. "I don't like the lace."

Third dress. "…I can see my underwear in this."

Forth dress. "I'm not coming out."

Fifth dress. "…I don't like the flowers."

"This is the last one." Izumi knocked on Winry's door, she handed the dress to Pinako, whom was helping Winry put on the dresses. "Sid picked this one."

Pinako nodded before she closed the door to give Winry privacy to change. Izumi walked back into the living room, waiting for Winry to walk down wearing the last dress. She made sure all the windows were covered to make sure Edward did not have an opportunity to see Winry in a dress.

"I'm coming down." Winry announced from on top of the stairs.

Izumi and Sid sat on the edge of their seats with baited breaths. In the back of their minds, they wondered if this is the feelings they would have gotten if they were able to have a little girl of their own. Helping her with her own wedding, but alas… what seemed like a nightmare turned into a dream when Edward announced he wanted them to take the place of his deceased parents. In turn, doing the duties what they had always thought was to be impossible to now be possible. For them, they are seeing their future daughter-in-law with happy tears running down her cheeks.

"This one. This is perfect!"

Sid glowed with pride for having to pick the perfect dress. It was a simple, romantic, and just the right color. Everything for his future daughter-in-law.

-.-

Second day.

Edward raised his chin up for Roy to tie his tie properly on the suit he brought along with his short visit. Edward, in little words, had asked Roy to be his best man. (It was mostly done because after hearing Riza became Winry's maid of honor, and to annoy the man. The lesser part, the position of father of the groom was already taken.) Plus, he already spoke to Alphonse who fully agreed to be a groomsman and for him to walk along side with Mei.

Roy is taking his role seriously, both as best man and a man who Edward see's as a male role model. As such, he isn't going to allow the young man to walk down that aisle in anything than less than he deserves. So, he made a couple of calls from his favorite suit shop, a very expensive suit shop. The tie cost about a month's pay but its well worth it. "Izumi wanted a bow tie, but you looked better with a tie. Tell me if it gets too tight."

"There."

Roy fixed the tie once more before he took a step back. He felt he was getting choked up, it's bittersweet. Very bittersweet. Maes should be the one doing this for the young man in front of him. That man is by far one of the greatest man and father either males' have ever met in their entire life. "How does it fit?"

"I'm surprised you chose this color and cloth."

"Considering the theme is country fairy tale, this suits it. Plus, it's not stuffy and you won't complain about it throughout the night."

"…Thank you for everything you've done for us, Roy."

"Anytime, Edward."

-.-

Third Day.

"RUN!"

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS BEARS!"

-.-

Forth Day.

"…. How the hell did you manage to create a bomb using a carrot, salt, and peanut butter?"

-.-

Fifth Day.

"…Well… that went wrong."

-.-

Sixth Day.

"How are we still alive?"

"Mr. Elric… you're still on fire."

"I know."

-.-

Edward separated from Winry after giving her a soul crushing kiss before he hopped on a train to head directly towards a town where the Alchemy Class first arrived in Amestris. He waved her goodbye as the train began to move away. "I'll send a letter once I get back. Next time we see each other, we'll be getting married."

"You better not be late!"

"I won't!"

[junker-town]

Mike Trout is officially the best player in Angels history, and he’s only 26

He would be the best hitter in the history of several other teams, too.

For as long as they’ve been a feature on Baseball-Reference, I’ve been obsessed with the collection of headshots on every franchise page. Here, look at the A’s page:

I love these because they tell a story. The heavy influence of black-and-white photos suggests the franchise has been around forever. Rickey Henderson being anywhere but number one reminds you that he spent a lot of his peak with the Yankees. Lefty Grove is apparently Cloud Atlas Clayton Kershaw, and that doesn’t get enough attention. They’re simple headshots, ranked by a the Wins Above Replacement each player accrued for the franchise, but they say so much.

Because of this obsession, I’ve been taking notes for a future article about these headshots for a couple years now. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go through with it — it’s certainly not something everyone would care about! — but I’m still chipping away.

And while I’ve been doing it. I’ve noticed Mike Trout slowly sliding to the left, sliding to the left, every time I checked. At some point this year, he finally did it.

Trout is officially the most valuable player in Angels history. He’s 26 years old. The Angels have been around since 1961. I’m not sure which one is more impressive, so mash them together and make one super-sized fun fact. Mike Trout is 26, and he’s already the best player in the history of a franchise that’s been around for 56 years.

Trout would be the most valuable player on four other teams, too. He might pass Gary Carter and Dave Stieb by the end of this year. It’s here that I would like to point out that Trout just turned 26 in August. Aaron Judge will turn 26 in April, and he’s still a rookie, not the best player in the history of his franchise.

If you want to compare Trout just to his peers, the position players, he fares even better.

Trout would be the most valuable hitter in the history of eight franchises, which is remarkable considering there’s a twist: He’s only 26. Most of those teams are young franchises, so it might not impress you that much just yet. Even though Trout is young*, he was still alive before the Diamondbacks, Marlins, and Rays existed, so you shouldn’t be too hard on them for not having fostered a Stan Musial-type career just yet. But there are a couple of older teams here, too. The Rangers and Mets have 111 seasons between them, but Trout would have been the best hitter either franchise has ever seen, which is remarkable.

* 26

The chase that’s fascinating me the most right now, though, is the completely invented and meaningless one between Trout and Pee Wee Reese. It’s not out of the question that by this time next year, Trout will have accrued more value in his career than anyone the Dodgers have employed in their 133 years of existence. A lot of that has to do with circumstances (Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier at 28 instead of 21, Sandy Koufax’s career-ending injury), but it’s still a great way to place what Trout has already done into perspective. He’s climbing the charts so quickly that he might be halfway up the list before he’s 30, someone who would have been the most valuable for several franchises that have been around for well over a century.

It’s here that we should talk about “value” and how it relates to this specific stat. And I’ll admit to using Baseball-Reference’s WAR for a few different reasons:

It’s one simple number

It adjusts for era

It adjusts for the player’s home ballpark

It allows for comparisons between pitchers and hitters

It includes baserunning and defense

It’s easy to use in searches on Baseball-Reference’s Play Index

But it’s not a perfect stat. It’s hard to explain just how little I trust the dWAR for Robin Yount, much less the dWAR for Honus Wagner. I’m forever concerned that in 2043, someone will realize that we’ve been forgetting to carry the two this whole time, and that everything we thought we knew about an individual player’s value was wrong.

It also feels wrong to compare Trout to someone like Tony Gwynn, who was one of the nicest players in baseball history (69.0 career WAR) and the absolute best thing to happen in the history of San Diego baseball. For 20 years, the Padres had Gwynn and the other teams didn’t, and that was a great feeling for Padres fans. It feels more than a little dirty to reduce his value to a single number. If we’re going to bring feelings and the reason why we watch baseball in the first place into the equation, Gwynn had 69 WAR every season he was active, really.

At the same time, this is what we have to compare players across eras, and it still works pretty well. And what it’s telling us is that Mike Trout, at the age of 26, is already the best baseball player the Angels have seen in 56 years. I can believe that without the number, but it’s nice to have the confirmation.

There’s a lot that can happen between now and the next 100 WAR, of course. You don’t need me to remind you of that. You don’t need a list of maladies and real-life concerns to understand that the future is a scary thing. Still, while Willie Mays and Babe Ruth are safe for now, you can see where this trajectory is heading. Trout is the best player his team has ever seen. He would be the best player that several teams have ever seen. In a few years, more than half of the teams in baseball might look at Trout with an acute sense of historical envy.

Perhaps the most impressive part? He just turned 26 years old.

I don’t think a lot of people know about that last part.