#I think I took more cloud pictures on this trip than like any other category LOL

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I’ve got some pics of the view from Skyloft ☺️

Look at that cloud barrier!!! AHHH the world is so pretty ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 49

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47 || CHAPTER 48

NOTES:

-4.4k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: one more chapter and this story will be over. im extremely emotional rn.

(both povs again! also i hope the smut scene isnt too disappointing)

PLEASE VOTE FOR ME! 

I was nominated in 3 categories!

*Best Friendship (Liv & Niall)

*Best Smut (AM Conversations)

*Favorite Author

you can vote for me HERE! thank you if you do!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 49

NIALL

How we managed to actually fly to Vegas without any pictures taken or meeting any fan seemed like a miracle. Something was clearly on our side and I took it as a very good sign. I watched her as she threw her bags on the carpet when we walked in the suite I had rented for the week and her lips curled. She let out a few cute giggles before running to the bed and jumping on it. It was huge, shaped like a heart with red silk sheets and a velvet cover of the same color except a bit darker. Olivia started jumping more as she kept laughing and I rolled my eyes with a smile when I noticed the pillows falling one by one from the bed to end on the floor.

"This is the cheesiest shit i've ever seen." I pointed out with a chuckle. "And stop this, you're gonna hurt yourself."

She turned to me and stopped jumping before sending me a smirk. "Make me."

We stared at each other for a few seconds and suddenly, I jumped on the bed too and she let out a short scream. I wrapped my arms around her but one of my legs weakened and I brought her in my falling before we both bounced on the bed. It made her laugh even more and I smiled as she panted, her lips parted. I ended up on top of her and she spread her legs a bit as I layed between them. She finally looked in my eyes and sent me a fond smile that I sent back. I couldn't believe we were here and I couldn't believe we were about to do what we were about to do.

"In less than 12 hours you're gonna be my wife, how does it feel?"

Her traits softened and she brought her hand to my face, running her fingertips on my cheek and jaw slowly. "Like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, doing exactly what I'm meant to do."

I let my eyes roam on her face and smiled again before bending down closer and kissing her lips gently. "With the only person I'll ever be in love with." I added, finishing her thought in a whisper against her mouth.

"Mmhm." she replied, bringing her other hand to my cheek and cupping my face. "But you're not supposed to shag the bride before she says 'I do'."

I smirked against her lips and couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "You really want to follow that rule?"

"It's good for building up the tension."

"The sexual tension, you mean." I corrected.

"Mmhm, and besides, you're probably going to fuck me in all the ways you want, whenever you want and for as long as you want... for a whole week. Right?"

"That's the plan." I whispered, gripping her hair in one fist as I held myself with my elbows on each sides of her head.

"What's a few hours, then?"

"You're gonna have to ask that question to my cock, petal."

She laughed again and my grip in her hair loosened as my lips curled. She was right, we didn't need to have sex now, we'd have plenty of time for that, and I was going to make sure she got whatever she needed and wanted during this whole trip.

"What do you want, my love. Food? A nap?" I just asked, raising my eyebrows. "Name it and it's yours."

Her smile faltered and she tilted her head on the side, her hair spread on the bed. She finally pressed her lips together before my name escaped them softly, in a murmur.

"Niall James Horan."

I chuckled with a fond smile and shook my head slightly. "I'm already all yours."

                                                           ---

"I shouldn't have eaten a second piece of pie." she pointed out, trying to zip her dress.

I watched her squirm and groan for a few more seconds and let out a small laughter before placing myself behind her and zipping her dress easily. I leaned my chin on her naked shoulder and wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, my eyes closed. She smelled good, the same mix of honey and vanilla she always smelled, and something twisted in my stomach as I realized it was a smell I would always enjoy. For the rest of my life.

"It's a spray." she just said, making me open my eyes and frown.

"Excuse me?" I asked, moving back up to look at her as she turned to me.

She nibbled on her bottom lip for a few seconds while staring at me and finally, she reached for her bag, taking something out and quickly putting it in my hand. I frowned more, bringing it to my face, as I checked the product. It was, indeed, a body spray that she clearly also used in her hair. I turned the small bottle in my hand and finally nodded.

"I'm gonna buy this company and make sure they keep making this product until the day that I die."

She let out a short laughter and grabbed it from my hand before spraying more in her hair and neck. "Don't be silly!"

"Fine then, we'll stock a few boxes in the basement to make sure we have enough."

She turned to me and laughed again, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me closer. I felt her lips brush against mine and kissed her firmly.

"Don't make me regret telling you." she whispered, making my lips curl.

"Hey, we're getting married! There can't be no secret between us anymore!"

"Yea? Then I guess I have a few questions for you!"

I cleared my throat and took a step back, making her chuckle again. "We should just get ready, or we're gonna be late." I pointed out, half-joking. "And you know you're the worst at being on time. I'm not sure you've ever been on time before, have you?"

"I think my wedding day is a good time to start."

She took a step closer and worked on my tie, tightening it before letting both her hands slide on my chest. I brought my hands over hers and she looked up at me with a smile. I could feel my heart beating so hard in my chest and I couldn't remember a time I was more nervous than at this exact moment.

"Are you sure you didn't want the whole deal with friends and family?" she asked in a low tone, raising her eyebrows. "With the big dress and the reception and the wedding song and gifts and..." she shook her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds before they fluttered open again. "I feel like we're about to disappoint your mom. I don't want that."

"My mom just wanted us to be together." I let out softly. "I promise she'll be super happy for us. Don't worry. Today is our day, okay? And we'll only think about us. You and me."

She tilted her chin up and chuckled low. "We're so fucking crazy. Jumping in a plane the next day you asked me to be your wife to get married. Who does that? Crazy people!"

"Then I must be extra insane because I sincerely believe this is our best idea yet!" I laughed. "In this lifetime!"

She frowned and tried to stop a chuckle from escaping her lips. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? The most organized and less impulsive person I know?"

"I guess he learned how to be from the most spontaneous and messiest person he knows."

"You're about to marry that person, remember? Think you can handle it for the rest of your life?"

I brought my finger and pressed it on the tip of her nose, making her giggle a bit. "I know I can. I want it."

Slowly, I moved my head closer to hers but instead to kiss her, I rubbed my nose gently against hers, making her smile grow into a fond one. "Come on, petal. Let's get married."

                                                            ---

The sky was dark, which was surprising, since I thought it was mostly sunny in Las Vegas. I glanced up and noticed a few clouds but I just grabbed Liv's hand and pulled her with me. We jumped in a cab and I checked my watch, making me realize that we wouldn't be late and it made me smile. Her dress was simple but white and with my black suit, I knew no one could doubt where we were actually going. The ride was short and when we got out, we both remained motionless and looked up at the sky who had turned a dark shade of purple.

"Can we be unlucky to the point where it'll actually rain in Vegas for our wedding?" she asked with a chuckle. "That's my legendary luck!"

"Well, they say 'for better or worse'..."

She laughed a bit but squeezed my fingers tighter. "That's what they say."

"Are you sure you didn't want to do that in the desert? Or with an helicopter ride, or something bigger like that?"

We stared at the chapel for a few more minutes and she finally sighed, making me turn around. She was smiling wide and it made me grin too. "This is exactly what I want." Her smile faltered and her lips parted suddenly, making my heart jump in my chest. "Shit, we forgot the flowers. And the witnesses."

"Oh." It took me a few seconds to move but my eyes fell on an old couple in their 60's that were walking close to us and when I stood in front of them, they looked a bit surprised. "I'm sorry, my girlfriend and I are about to get married... We totally forgot we needed witnesses.." I shook my head and sent them puppy eyes. "Could I ask for a few minutes of your time? I can pay, if needed."

They looked at each other and laughed a bit before looking at me again. "We just renewed our vows." the man let out, glancing behind me, probably at Olivia. "It'll be our pleasure."

I sent them the biggest smile I could and shook my head slightly. "I can't thank you enough!"

Quickly, I turned to my girlfriend and grabbed her hands in mine. Maybe we were going to be late, after all. "Give me five minutes, okay?"

She nodded with a frown and I started running, stopping nearby a man who was selling roses. I couldn't believe my luck and looked up at the sky again, telling myself that maybe it was not going to rain at all. I searched through my pockets and traded a good amount of money for too many flowers and ran back to the chapel, where Olivia was in deep conversation with our witnesses.

"That's amazing." I could hear emotions in her voice and I stopped next to her, my eyes roaming on the side of her face. "I hope we can stay married that long, too."

"Of course we will. I'm saying 'I do' for a lifetime, you're stuck with me!"

She laughed and turned to me, shaking her head slightly before getting on her tiptoes and cupping my cheeks. Her lips found mine and I smiled against her mouth.

"I'm supposed to kiss you after the vows, my love." I whispered, feeling my lips brush against hers. "Ready?"

She moved slightly away and I stared at her. I couldn't believe how much she glowed. I had noticed that she did glow more than ever on that day I saw her at the bakery. It was selfish of me, but today, I knew she was glowing partly because of me, and it made something stir in my stomach. I was happy because of her, and I wanted to bring the same kind of feelings to her than the ones she brought me. Looking into her eyes made me realize that I did and I licked my lips. Perhaps, the way she was glowing was reflecting on me.

"I've been ready for over two decades." she giggled and tilted her head. "You bet i'm ready!"

                                                       ---

OLIVIA

We had a hard time choosing between being married by Elvis, or by an alien, and in the end, we opted for a simple officiant. I tried to listen to his words, but the way Niall was running his thumbs on the top of my hands as he held them made something stir in my stomach. I stared at him as he stood in front of me, and I couldn't help but tell myself over and over again how lucky I was. It was meant to be, I knew it now, but there were times in my life I had lost almost all hope. The dark times were in the past, though, and I wanted to focus on the future. I wanted to enjoy every single second I spent with Niall because I felt blessed in a way I felt I maybe didn't deserve.

"...until death do you part?"

I blinked a few times and noticed Niall's lips curl as he kept staring at me. "I do."

I filled my lungs and held my breath as I let my eyes roam on him. I suddenly became very emotional at the sound of those two simple words. Somehow, I knew he was aware of everything it implied, even if this whole ceremony seemed frivolous and a simple spur of the moment.

I blinked a few times and licked my lips when Niall raised his eyebrows. "I do." I just ket out in a low and soft tone. His face illuminated and his lips cuirled more before he squeezed my fingers tighter. I hadn't listened to the officiant's words, too lost in my boyfriend's eyes, but it didn't matter because no matter what he was asking me to promise, I was ready for it. I was ready to do anything to make this work, and make him happy.

"Oh, oh yea." Niall muttered, letting go of one of my hands to reach in his pocket. "I give you this ring as a symbol or my love and commitment." I bit my bottom lips as I stared at his fingers and I could swear he was nervous. He slid it on my finger, over the other one, and breathed in. "I'll love you forever, beyond this life. You're the only one."

My lips curled and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tears in. I took the ring I had for him and put on his finger too, licking my lips. "I give you this ring just like I gave you my heart and all my love." I whispered, taking a short pause. "I've always been yours, and I promise that I'll always be."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." I heard before swallowing again.

I let out a short and nervous laugh and moved closer to him. Just like when we kissed for the very first time, Niall's hands reached for my face, his fingers spread on my cheeks, jaw and a part of my neck. His lips found mine just as avidly as it had in that bar, after singing a song to me, and it brought me back to that day as a bunch of other memories invaded my brain. I thought that first kiss was incredible, and I remember when I kissed him again after over a year, back at my place. That time too, felt amazing. But today was different. The kiss we shared was full of promises and a future actually emanated from it. It was cheesy, and perhaps a bit silly, but it didn't matter if all this romantic jazz seemed to be coming straight out of a movie. It was my reality, and I wouldn't have wanted it otherwise.

I don't know how long we kissed but when his grip loosened, I heard a few 'woohoo's!' and 'congrats!' coming from our witnesses. Niall grabbed my hand and I bite my bottom lip, a bit embarrassed by the whole thing. We thanked the couple and shook their hands before walking towards the exit.

"You've got all the papers and stuff?" I asked, glancing at him.

"Mmhm, I do my love."

"Then, what are we waiting for?"

I turned to him and our lips curled at the same time. I let out a chuckle and he did too before we held each other's hand even tighter. Almost at the same time, we started running, pushing on the doors only to meet the lights of the town and I quickly looked up as I heard the sky growl.

"Shit, is that thunder?"

As if someone up there had heard my question, it started raining and I closed my eyes, feeling drops falling gently on my face. I shivered and Niall pulled on my hand as we started running again.

"Come on!"

I followed him, making our way through the cars and the people walking around. We looked a bit ridiculous in our wedding suits and dress, and I gripped his hand even tighter, realizing I left the flowers in the chapel. We were still laughing when we hopped in a taxi and I ran my hand in my face, knowing my make up was totally ruined.

"What are the chances of rain, in Vegas, in december?" Niall laughed, shaking his head. "Less than 5 percent i'm sure!" He turned to me and his smile faltered a bit. "Hey, you're cold?"

I shivered and nodded slowly before he made a quick head movement, inciting me to come closer. I did as he asked but quivered again in his arms. Despite the fact that he was warmer than me, his clothes were drenched too and it didn't really help but I didn't move, just enjoying the fact that we were cuddling.

We didn't talk on the drive back to the hotel, and we kept quiet in the elevator, too. It's only when the door of our suite closed behind us that he turned to me and smiled.

"We fuckin' did it." he just let out, shaking his head with a smile. "We got married. You're my wife."

I stared at him as a bunch of emotions invaded me. It was a mix of relief, happiness, excitement and love. I looked in the eyes of the man I wanted to spend my life with, knowing that I actually had just promised to love him forever, and it was not scary at all. It was pretty much the opposite of scary. I felt safe in a way I never did before.

"You're so beautiful." he let out in a low tone, taking a step closer and shaking his head slightly. "I'm in love with you."

I knew it was a lie. My make up was ruined, and my mascara was probably making big dark spots under my eyes, perhaps it was even sliding down my cheeks. My dress was soaked and so was my hair. All I cared about was the fact that my husband thought I was beautiful.

"If you think that right now, imagine when I put a little effort."

His lips curled a bit more but he just licked his lips. His suit was wet too and my eyes dropped to his chest. I moved my hands up and pushed on his jacket as it fell down on the carpet.

"Did we just get married?" I added as my whole body started throbbing.

"Fuck yea we did, petal."

"You're not gonna regret this tomorrow?" I asked again, raising my eyebrows.

"Not tomorrow. Not in a month, not in fifty years." he whispered, looking down at me as I unbuttoned his shirt slowly. "This was meant to be. Written in the stars, as you'd say."

I pressed my lips together, loosening his tie, and pushed his shirt away as it fell on the floor too. I pulled on his tie gently and he smiled, bending down until our mouths pressed together.

"You know what's next?" he asked, his lips brushing against mine.

"You're gonna fuck me into oblivion?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I'm gonna make love to my wife. And I swear you're never going to forget it." he explained, kissing me gently again. "And then, I'll fuck you. All night. Until we both pass out."

I didn't say anything but smiled more and he wrapped his arms around me to reach for the zipper of my dress, sliding it down very slowly. He moved my dress over my shoulders and I shivered a bit, realizing that my skin was wet too, and when he got down one of knee to pull on my dress, I smiled more. He moved back up, letting his fingertips run on my legs and thighs softly as I stood in front of him only in my underwear. I started working on his pants and tilted my head, blinking a few times.

"I'm so in love with you." I admitted, moving closer and running my hands on his ass gently, pushing his pants down. "I'll never be able to explain properly how I feel. It's killing me."

"You don't have to explain. I know. Because I feel the same." he whispered.

It was hard to believe but I just swallowed, trying to keep my tears in. Was it even possible that he loved me just as deeply as I loved him? Two years ago, I would have said no, but right now, after we just got married and seeing the way he was looking at me, I allowed myself to believe it.

He placed his hands on my waist and turned us around, pushing me backwards to the bed. Instead to throw me on it the way he normally does, I just lied down slowly and when he got on his knees between my legs, I let out a short chuckle.

"There are... mirrors up there."

Quickly, he tilted his chin and I felt my heart twist in my chest when his lips curled. Fuck, he was too pretty for words, shirtless and in simple white boxers, his tie still hanging loosely from his neck. I reached for it and pulled on it, making him fall on top of me. He laughed but held himself with his hands on each side of my face and I smiled more.

"It's perfect." I added with a smirk. "That was I can look at your ass while you make love to me."

"Mm, alright. but later we're gonna have to try other positions so I can be the one looking at you." He chuckled, brushing his lips up and down on mine.

"Deal."

He moved closer again, his lips sucking on my upper one before kissing me deeply. I whimpered in his mouth and he finally brought his kisses down my neck and to my breasts. I felt one of his hands travelling on my waist and pulling down the side of my panties. I moved my butt up to help him and when he was back on top of me, I quickly pushing on his boxers, glancing up at the ceiling and smiling when I saw his ass reflect in the mirror.

"Oh it's funny?" he asked, moving away to look in my eyes, a big smile on his lips.

"Very. I think we should buy mirrors for our room at home, too."

"Great minds, pet. I was thinking the same thing."

I giggled but he kissed me again and I pulled more on his boxers. He squirmed a bit and the only piece of clothing that was left was the tie around his neck. I spread my legs more and his lips moved to my ear as he sucked on it gently. It took him about a minute but he finally pushed himself inside me, making my eyes flutter and my lips part.

"Mm, I can't believe I'm inside my wife right now."

I chuckled but immediately let out an other whimper as he ground against me. The whole thing seemed to crazy yet so obvious at the same time. The thought of us making love and being married was incredibly exciting and it made me emotional. He started moving in and out of me so slowly that I felt my eyes flutter and roll back every time he was balls deep inside me.

"I'm so close already, how do you do that?"

I knew it was a mix of love and lust that made us so horny for each other, and I loved it. He kissed my bottom lip and part of my chin gently as I moaned and arched my back.

"I love you, I love you so much." I let out a bit louder than intended.

"I love you too, I'm so happy to be your husband."

It was the first time he pronounced that word and for some reason, the thought was so good it made me reach my peek immediately. I started shaking beneath him and to suppress my moans, he pressed his lips against mine.

"You feel amazing, oh my god!"

He shut his eyes tight as he reached an orgasm and watching him cum made me feel dizzy suddenly. He pushed himself as deep as he could and stopped moving for a while, groaning near my ear and making my lips part. When he became limp on top of me again, I started running my fingertips on his back and down to his butt. He leaned his forehead against mine and kissed my nose gently before I finally opened my eyes.

"Ten minutes. Ten fucking minutes. And it's a miracle I lasted that long." he laughed.

"I barely lasted five, you're good!" I admitted with a laugh, making him smile more.

He looked down at me and I could swear his eyes were sparkling. This was perfect. It was everything I had ever hoped for. It was everything I had ever wanted.

"Now sit down." I proposed, raising my eyebrows. "Let me ride you." I shrugged. "Unless you're not ready for round two?"

"Oh you know me, petal. I'm always ready."

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [5]: Marie Walters

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.” —Rachel Sontag

»»————-　⚜　————-««

There’s a particularly gruesome quality to death in the daylight. It’s a stark reminder that everyone will eventually die, a brush with human mortality that leaves those who see it uncomfortable, and the fact that the sun now is hidden by clouds and rain does nothing to lessen the effect. The body is located in an open expanse next to a jogging path, tucked neatly underneath a statue of an angel in prayer; all around the scene, yellow tape is strung from tree to tree to create a barrier that keeps the gathering of curious onlookers at bay, even if does nothing to stop them from craning their necks, their whispers drowned out by the patter of water on leaves and grass. Lir takes in everything else: the blood, the slick, dark asphalt of the trail, the cops in jackets with Forensics emblazoned on the back picking carefully through the debris. So much for good forensics, she thinks bitterly, though he’s never left us much to begin with.

At her side, Dante stands with his hands in his coat pockets, his expression frustrated and thoughtful. “Couldn’t have picked a better day,” he says tightly. “We’ll be lucky to get anythin’ off of her now.”

Lir nods in agreement. Back up at the top of the hill, a cruiser is idling at the curb with an officer standing by the back door and a man seated within, his face drawn and miserable. “Witness?”

“Dunno. We’ll have to ask.” He cranes his neck, then shouts, “Simmons!”

The young officer walks over hesitantly, his wide eyes darting from Dante’s face to the body and back again. Lir remembers how upset he’d been by the first victim and feels a mixture of pity and annoyance; Homicide is always tough on rookies, but if his stomach is truly this weak, he’d be better off in another department. “Yessir?”

Dante gestures to the statue. “You gonna fill us in?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, sir.” Simmons fumbles a notepad from his belt and flips it open. She notices how he favors his right arm, which is slightly odd looking: like it was broken once and never quite healed correctly, leaving his hand resting a little crooked. He holds the notepad close to his body to keep it safe from the rain, which by now is a soft drizzle. “The call came in forty-five minutes ago. A woman walking her dog heard shouting and what she described as a girl begging, and she thought it was a domestic until someone said, and I quote, ‘I’m going to fucking kill you, you bitch.’ That’s when she phoned 9-1-1.”

It doesn’t sound at all like their killer, and her shoulders tighten with a new frustration. A distraction is the last thing they need now. “Where’s the witness?” Lir asks.

“Officer Galstin is getting her contact information, but I already took her statement,” Simmons responds, not meeting her eyes.

“And the guy in the cruiser?” she prompts.

Simmons glances over his shoulder. “He was here when Officer Galstin and I arrived. There’s blood all over him, and he had a knife on him, but he clammed up as soon as he saw us and tried to run. I caught him,” he adds with a bit of pride, and Lir looks down and notices the mud on the knees of his trousers. “We cuffed him and read him his rights, but he hasn’t said a word so far.”

Dante places his hands on his hips as he surveys the scene. “You rope everything off?”

“Yessir. Put up evidence markers on anything that looked interesting and contacted the M.E., too.”

Lir feels a begrudging speck of respect. “You did good, Simmons. Go see if Galstin is finished with the witness, then take our suspect back to the precinct and get him settled in interrogation.”

“Yes ma’am.” He flushes. “Sir.”

She waves off the mistake, then turns to Dante. “Doesn’t look like this is our guy.”

“Nope.”

“Morrison said it was.”

“That’s my fault,” Simmons interjects. “When I heard there was a killing in the park, I thought . . .”

“That’s alright, Simmons,” Dante says before Lir can think of a way to verbalize her frustration at the false alarm without ripping him a new asshole. “Rookie mistake. From here on out, get your facts before you come to any conclusions. Go help Galstin.”

The youth snaps a salute and hurries off, and Lir lets out a slow sigh. “Fuck,” she mutters.

“Don’t hold it against him,” Dante advises.

“I’m not,” she replies sharply. At his raised brow, she shrugs. “Like you said, rookie mistake. Doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed that someone else is out here killing women, now.”

He snorts. “At least this one was stupid enough to hang around.”

“Yeah.”

Together, they cross the clearing towards the statue and the body beneath. At first look, it’s easy enough to tell that the man who did this is not the same as the one who mutilated Sophie Marsons: this victim is clothed, her knitted scarf knotted around her throat, the front of her white shirt ripped and soaked with blood. Dante lets out a low whistle while Lir leans down, pulling a pair of gloves from her pocket and sliding them on. Trish is standing nearby, talking to a man with a camera, and Lir calls out, “You got your pictures?”

“Yup. Look to your heart’s content, Detective,” Trish replies.

Lir lifts the girl’s arms, first her right, then her left, taking in the deep cuts to her palms and fingers. Then she carefully tugs the scarf to reveal the livid bruises and claw-marks beneath before reaching into the purse on the ground next to the body. Inside is a wallet that she opens, pulling out the driver’s license. “Marie Walters.” Lir rocks back onto her heels. “She fought, and she fought hard. There are defensive wounds on her hands, and the ground is churned like she was kicking.”

Dante nods. “Reads like anger to me.”

“The scarf, though . . .” she murmurs. “Why start with strangulation, then end with stabbing?”

The leaves rustle as he crouches next to her. “You gotta think like a pissed off man, Lir. Look around you. What do you see?”

She bristles at the coaching. “A struggle.”

“Walk me through it.”

“I’m not a rookie, Dante.”

“Humor me.”

Huffing, she pushes herself to her feet and moves from marker to marker, talking as she walks. “They came down from the road. There are skid marks up here, which means one of them slipped in the mud and the other probably kept them from falling. Somewhere around here,” she pauses by a cone next to a tree, “they paused for a bit. There’s a half-smoked cigarette with lipstick on it that matches the shade she’s wearing, so she was either comfortable enough to enjoy a smoke with him or nervous enough that she needed one to calm down.”

“Right.” He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, somewhere between the cigarette and here is where the argument started. It gets heated, probably somethin’ she says going by what the witness heard. Strangling someone carries a lot of different meanings, but . . .”

“It’s a silencing tactic,” Lir finishes.

“Mm-hm. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say, and didn’t want anyone else to hear it, either. You know how long it takes someone to die from suffocation?”

The casual way he asks the question throws her so that she can’t formulate a reply other than, “No.”

“Five minutes until brain death occurs, if consistent pressure is held.” Dante looks around. “Public park, people walkin’ their dogs, he needs her quiet so no one knows what’s goin’ on. Now, even if you know what you’re doin’, strangling someone with a scarf ain’t easy. They’re in pain, fightin’ back, scratchin’ you and themselves bloody to get you to stop. You lose pressure for a second, the screamin’ starts.”

Lir’s stomach twists, shoving acid up her throat. “He didn’t know that. That’s why, when she wouldn’t stop struggling, he used the knife.”

“That’d be my guess.”

“What a bastard.” She takes off her gloves, shoving them into her pocket. “I say we go talk to the guy Galstin and Simmons pulled in.”

Dante nods in agreement. Together, they climb the rain-slick slope back up to the road, and Lir bemusedly uses the towel he offers to clean mud from her boots before getting into his car. The station is only a few blocks away, but morning rush traffic delays them so that what should have been a ten minute trip winds up taking closer to forty, and in that time Lir’s mind stews. It flips back and forth between Sophie and their newest victim, Marie Walters. Two women, murdered by men, brutalized and terrified and left to rot. Her nails bite into her palms as bile flavors her mouth. Are they connected? Or did this new bastard just get enough courage from seeing someone else do it that he decided to take a life, too? She’s so tense by the time they arrive at the precinct that her jaw aches from being clenched, and Lir forces herself to relax as they head inside to avoid any probing from her partner.

At the back of the building, down a hallway lit with bright white fluorescents, are the interrogation rooms. The three of them sit on the left-hand side, each with two doors: one for the observation room, one for holding suspects for questioning, separated by a wall and a pane of one-way glass with recording equipment set up to capture the conversations that occur within them. Lir and Dante step into Observation 1, where they find Morrison waiting, watching the man through the window.

“His name is Jonas Miller,” Morrison tells them. “No prior arrests, lives in Hyde Park with his wife, Lucille.”

Dante makes a low noise of surprise that mirrors how Lir feels. Hyde Park is one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Red Grave City, a gated community with manicured lawns, neat hedges, and large houses that start out with six figure mortgages. “He give you anything?” she asks, stepping closer to the glass.

“No. Hasn’t even asked for a lawyer.”

“Huh.” Miller certainly looks like he could afford one without a problem. Even from here, she knows that the watch on his wrist is a Rolex, that the shoes on his feet are too nice to be anything other than genuine leather, probably Gucci. “I’ll take him.”

“You?” Dante doesn’t sound angry, just startled. “Why?”

Lir is already halfway out of the door. “Because he killed a woman. Being questioned by one is going to throw him off.”

The door shuts off his answer. She pauses for a moment outside of Interrogation 1 to put her thoughts in order and breathe deeply to fight off the anger that’s been getting sharper all morning, since she first spotted that guy in the alley where Sophie died. Then she opens the door and steps inside. 

Miller doesn’t look up as she takes the seat across from him and pulls out a notepad and a pen. His eyes remain downcast, focused on his hands, and Lir takes him in. His hair is mussed, his eyes bruised and bloodshot, and there are deep scratches in the tanned skin of his face, neck, and forearms. His shirt is too dark for her to tell if there’s blood on it, and if there was any on his hands, he’d been allowed to wash it off, a fact that makes her frown even as she takes the cap off of her pen and writes the date and time at the top of the paper. “Jonas Miller,” she says. He flinches. “Want to tell me what happened this morning?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

Her fingers tighten on her pen. “You were found in Tellula Park with the body of Marie Walters. Officers Simmons and Galstin both stated that you ran from the scene with a knife in your hand.” Miller says nothing. “If we test that knife, do you think it will match the wounds on Marie Walters?”

Slowly, seeming dazed, he shakes his head. “I didn’t touch her.”

He’s lying, a voice whispers. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end at the sound of it, furious and grieving and not at all her own, and she takes a slow breath and counts to ten until the gray at the edges of her vision recedes. “We have a witness, Mr. Miller, one who will be able to identify your voice threatening to kill someone, we have your knife, which will match Marie Walters, and, going from the state of your face, there’s going to be enough skin under her nails to crucify you in court. If you cooperate with me, there’s a chance that the D.A. will work with you. If you don’t, then whatever it is you’re hiding is going to be blasted in the news. Do you understand?”

That gets his attention. He stares at her, his eyes wild, and stammers, “My wife, I-I have to get home to my wife—”

“I’m very sure Marie Walters would have liked to go home, Mr. Miller,” she says coldly.

“My wife is—”

“Why did you kill Marie Walters, Mr. Miller?”

“I never—”

“Did she threaten you, Mr. Miller?” Lir knows she should stop, that anything she gets out of this confession is going to be shit if she goads him any further, but, fuck, he’d been Mirandized and hasn’t asked for a lawyer, and it feels good to see him squirm. “According to her license, she was five foot five and weighed one-twenty. She was half your size, a college girl, so I’m struggling to see how she could have been so dangerous that you stabbed her eighteen times and strangled her with a scarf. What did she do to piss you off, Mr. Miller? What could a girl like that have possibly—”

“She lied to me!” he shouts, slamming his hands on the table. Lir refuses to let that frighten her, because there’s a gun at her hip and a knife in her boot, and he’d be an idiot to come after a cop with all the trouble he’s already about to get himself into. “She swore that she was on the pill, that she didn’t want anything other than a-a partner, and then she called me and said she was pregnant and demanded I leave my wife or she’d tell, and I . . . I . . .” He tapers off, hiding his face in his hands. “I just wanted her to shut up. Just once. She was such a bitch, always mouthing off, I just wanted her to shut the hell up for once.”

“So you killed her,” Lir states flatly.

Whimpering, he nods. A wave of revulsion rises within her; here is a man who looks no older than forty, with a million-dollar house and a wife, wearing designer brands, a man who had decided that he wanted to get his dick wet with a girl half his age, who had killed that girl like she was gutter trash when the consequences of his actions came to fruition, and he’s snivelling like an infant. “Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Miller, that it takes two to cause a pregnancy?” Her voice is ice. “Or did you simply assume that you were too good for a condom?”

His head snaps up, his mouth agape with shock. “What—”

“This is how it reads to me, and how it will read to a jury.” She pushes back her chair and stands. “You entered into a relationship with a college student, telling who knows how many lies to your wife. Did you promise Marie Walters that you loved her? That you would leave your wife for her? And then,” she continues, ignoring his sputtering, “when she, quite naturally, got pregnant—birth control fails, Mr. Miller, all the time—you killed not only her, but her unborn child, all because you were too much of a coward to deal with your actions. You are nothing more and nothing less than a repugnant, low-life, inexcusable—”

The door slams open, and Morrison steps inside, his face passive but his eyes furious. “Thank you, Detective. We’ve gotten what we need from him. The interview is now over.” To Miller, he says, “Officer Simmons will be along to book you while the D.A. decides which charges to press. Excuse us.”

Lir follows Morrison when he leaves, knowing that she’s fucked up but too wired to care. In the hall, Dante is waiting, and he gives a little shake of his head when he catches sight of whatever expression is on her face. Don’t, he mouths. 

Morrison turns on her. “Are you out of your mind, Detective Thorne? Do you want that man to walk free? Because that is the only reason I can think of to explain why you’d behave so irresponsibly.”

“I got the confession,” she starts.

“A confession that we’ll be lucky to get admitted,” Morrison snaps. “One look at that and whatever defense attorney Miller hires will petition to get it thrown out on the basis of coercion! You didn’t question him, Thorne, you rode his ass and degraded him, and we’re lucky that he was read his rights and denied an attorney, because those are the only things that might sway a judge into keeping the confession intact.”

“He killed her!” Her voice raises despite her attempts to keep it under control, and she sees Dante wince from the corner of her eye. “It wasn’t some accident. He took a knife with him, he fucked her and then he stabbed her eighteen goddamn times! And you think I rode him too hard?”

Morrison’s mouth twists. “You might want to reconsider your tone unless you want to be working vice from now on, Thorne.”

She opens her mouth, only for Dante to step forward, his hands raised placatingly. “Chief, it’s been a long day. Hell, a long weekend. Neither of us have slept more than four hours, we lost a suspect this morning, and we’re getting nowhere with Marsons. Thorne’s a damn good detective, but even good ones have bad moments from time to time.”

Morrison cuts his eyes from Dante to Lir. “That true, Thorne?”

As much as it humiliates her to do so, she takes the lifeline Dante has given her. “Yessir.”

“Fine.” Morrison studies her a moment longer before turning away. “Even if we lose the confession, forensics will get enough to nail him. You go home and rest. I don’t want to see you for twenty-four hours, understood? I’ll need that long just to clean up this mess.”

She nods, and he glances at her over his shoulder. “I expected better from you, Thorne.”

Then he’s gone, leaving her to wallow in the unpleasant heat of chastised embarrassment, swallowing thickly against the tears that prick her eyes. A hand grips her shoulder, but she refuses to look at Dante, merely shrugging when he says, “Let me give you a lift home,” wishing, not for the first time, that her father was still around to give her advice.

[garyofrivia]

For They Shall Be Satisfied

Arthur Morgan x OC

Chapter 1

(masterlist in bio - find more chapters there!)

Summary: In the days before the Blackwater Massacre, everything was simpler. Life has never been about the delicacies of luxury for the Van der Linde gang. It’s about surviving. Annie Bolton is no stranger to survival. With a natural talent for robbing, killing, and con-artistry, she fit in perfectly when she fell in with Dutch and company 6 years ago. But with time, more than what meets the eye is revealed. Not everyone is who they say they are and everything is always more than it seems. What is uncovered from beneath the guise of freedom and liberty is a world full of chaos, death, and deceit. For Arthur, John, Dutch, and Annie, the struggle for power is coming to an end and the time to make important decisions closes in, quicker than any of them could prepare for. (Takes place just before RDR2 and then continues into the game's events - Arthur will get his happy ending if it's the last thing I do goddamn it)

A/N: soo this is my first chaptered RDR fic, heck! feel free to let me know what ya think, stay tuned for updates, she’s gonna be a long one, kids. 

Warnings/Categories: Violence, Angst

(WC: 4,312)

The plains of West Elizabeth were just as they had always been. Dry, hot, barren, practically a desert. For miles, all you could see was grassland that seemingly swallowed the horizon. It gave the illusion of being flat, though jagged rocks stuck out of the earth like fangs. Steep hills and ridges disrupted the terrain and painted the picture of a wasteland, though it was quite the contrary. The wildlife that thrived there endured the elements as they came. When it rained, it poured. At night, the temperatures reached near freezing, a stark contrast to the scorching midday sun with rays that seemed to make its way through every cloud break in the sky. Even in early spring, it was unbearable. With the heat beating down on her shoulders, the hunter on the road finally gave into the temptation of shedding her jacket and slung it over her horse’s back behind the saddle. She was a tall, fair woman, with strong shoulders atop her lean frame and wide hips. Her long, deep brown hair was tied off her sweaty neck and tied into a braid down her back, and even without the jacket she felt as if she was baking alive in the dry heat. She wiped the sweat from her brow and grimaced. She truly did not miss the this climate.

Annie Bolton had gone out alone on a hunting trip for a few days to the northwestern part of West Elizabeth. She told herself that it was a way to get away from camp and seemingly everyone’s watchful eyes for a while and to scout the perimeter of the territory as she tracked herds of pronghorn. The trip had been relatively unsuccessful, and while she collected about a half-dozen jackrabbit pelts, the bigger game in the area had seemed to have disappeared. She was trekking back to camp on foot, leading her stallion, Nero, around snake holes and loose rocks. Her bowstring was rubbing her collarbone raw, but she didn’t care. The frustration of the hunt had sent her spiraling into a whirlwind of thought. The Van der Linde gang had retreated east to escape the long arm of the law in multiple. Dutch had thought it best, since that’s really the only direction they could go without running out of land. Civilization did not sit well with the gang; or rather, the gang didn’t sit well with civilization. While the area around Blackwater wasn’t as populated or industrialized as other places out east, it was still… different. On the other hand, cities and towns offered profitable more opportunities than the open frontier. Annie and Hosea made a killing in the towns. They were a good team when they worked together, especially considering he taught her everything she knows about running a scheme. She was a natural at it, sweet talking any unsuspecting businessman at a saloon she could to draw their attention and give them the rundown, but she preferred to remain in the background and watch from afar. The more information she could gather about her surroundings, the better. She never let anyone go into a job unprepared for a situation that could take a wrong turn. Almost every stagecoach hit, heist, homestead run, or bank robbery that she had taken point on had been a success. Even though she’d been running with the Dutch for less than a quarter of the time his right hand, Arthur Morgan, had been, she’d quickly risen to the top of the food chain under Hosea’s wing. She proved herself to be a valuable member of the team many times over. Although to her, nothing ever seemed to be enough. It’s not that Dutch didn’t like her. He called her his daughter and he trusted her with big jobs as much as he did Arthur or Hosea. But he was… off, as of late. He’d sometimes pull Hosea aside and they’d speak quietly about something in his tent and usually, the conversations turned into heated arguments. She never caught a full conversation, but for more reasons than one, she knew a lot of them had to have been about her. Annie was a loner, even within the gang. After 6 years with them, she still felt the need to keep to herself. This didn’t seem to sit well with Dutch. She’d never cross anyone, not even in her wildest dreams. She would, and had, put herself in any kind of danger to protect them, just as they would each other. Every time it came up with Arthur, which was rarely a conversation either of them enjoyed having, he assured her that her that Dutch loved her like his own. She never believed him, so she’d taken it upon herself to prove her worth. And that she did. But, the less than successful hunting trip had caused her to miss out on a caravan robbery near Blackwater and had barely any game to show for it. She and and her horse both felt defeated as they trudged on through the thick undergrowth and uneven ground. What at first seemed to be a gust of wind in the brush, she soon realized was a voice from over a small ridge to her left. She immediately halted in her tracks and whipped out the binoculars from her saddlebag. She crouched down and approached carefully. Two men came into view and she could just barely make out what they were saying. “I jus’ don’t think it’s a good idea,” the man standing next to a tree said loudly. He spoke in an Irish accent that sent shivers down Annie’s spine. It can’t be… “It don’t matter what you think, dumbass.”  “That much is clear.” “Boss says it’s the best thing we can do right now. So we’ll wait up for Thomas and Connelly and the rest of their lot and just do what we’re told.” She peered through her binoculars and caught a glimpse of their faces and notorious blue coats, recognizing them instantly. O’Driscolls. Damn it. It somehow wasn’t a surprise, though it was a bit puzzling. What are they doing this far south? As if on cue, band of five men rode into view and towards the small encampment. “Howdy, Collins. O’Shea,” the man on the first horse greeted them. “Connelly is brining the rest of the boys right behind us. The pair of you ready to go catch us some Van der Lindes?”  Shit. “Sure, their hit’s supposed to be just north of here. We scouted the area.”  SHIT. Without wasting any time, she took off back to Nero and spurred him into a gallop towards camp. Panic was hitching in her chest. It’d only be a few weeks since they’d been camped near Blackwater and the O’Driscolls shouldn’t have been able to find them so quickly. And the chances of them catching wind of the caravan job were slim to none. Something was wrong. The sight of Charles standing guard just outside camp alarmed her for some reason. She figured he’d be on with the job, but they must have been shorthanded for guard duty. “Annie-,” he started to say something, but she sped past him and right into the heart of camp. “Dutch!” she called. The Count and Boudicca were hitched next to each other near Strauss’s wagon. “Dutch!” “Annie, why on Earth are you yellin’?” Dutch brushed passed the flap of his tent with Arthur on his heels. “It’s the O’Driscolls. They’re headin’ to the caravan. I don’t know what they’re plannin’, but it can’t be good.” “Shit. Where are they?” “East, down the river a ways. Arthur, let’s go.” Arthur groaned and jogged towards his horse. “Jesus.” “I need to come with you,” Dutch said, starting for The Count. “No, they’ll be gunnin’ for you,” Annie said. “And we need people here to protect camp in case they find it, and by the looks of it it’s only you, the Callander boys, and Charles.” “Were you followed?” Dutch says, narrowing his eyes. “No, of course not! We don’t have time for this,” she said a bit too harshly. Dutch opened his mouth to snap at her but Arthur cut him off. “She’s right, Dutch. Who knows how they found us, they might have more men than just the ones she saw.” “Fine,” Dutch said, nodding reluctantly. “Go on, then.” She took off again at full speed with Arthur at her side. He pulled slightly ahead, leading the way to the hit location. “Why aren’t you on the job, Arthur?” she said. “Who’s takin’ the lead?” “John is,” he replied, monotone. “Dutch wanted a few errands taken care of. Had to tend to that first with Bill, I was gonna catch up later.” “Didn’t seem like it. Since when are you an errand boy and John gets to run point?” “Since today, apparently. Since you wanna ask me all these questions, where the hell have you been?” “Hunting.” “Did you toss all the game back after reelin’ ‘em in? Or did they just get up to put their pelts back on and walk home?” “Shut up. I went ‘cause I thought there would be plenty of guns for this job. Not my fault the fields are dry as hell.” “I told you, I was gonna go!” “Either way, it’s done with now. All that scouting for nothin’. Damn it.” “Well…” She glanced over to him and saw the familiar, sly gleam in his eyes. “What?” “We could cut these boys off. Save the job from goin’ sour. Lord knows we need the money.” Annie paused to think and slowed Nero to a canter, Arthur following suit. “What if they have more men, like you said?” He shrugged. “What’s that magical gut of yours tellin’ you?” “We could… split up?” “Neither of us are that good with a pistol to take on that many O’Driscoll boys alone. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” “Well, I could ride up on that ridge with my rifle just before where the hit’s gonna go down. Pick ‘em off as they come in, with you on the ground to round up the stragglers.” “Now, there’s an idea,” he said, satisfied. “You wanted a hunt, didn’t ya?” Annie smirked and kicked Nero to a gallop again, leaving Arthur to make his way to the rest of the gang. It was about a five minute ride by the time she got to the ridge. She pulled her worn, black bandana over her nose and mouth and dismounted. With a quick survey of the area, she pulled the sniper rifle from her saddle and began aiming to adjust the scope, finding the gang in her sights, just around the bend that would hide them from the oncoming caravan. Arthur tipped his hat when he saw her wave from the ridge and returned to arguing with John. No sign of the O’Driscolls or the stage coaches yet. Annie sighed with relief. They’d gotten there with time to spare. She kept an eye on the gang. John had brought Sean, Micah, Javier, and Lenny. “Idiot,” she mumbled to herself. It wasn’t nearly enough men for a robbery like this in broad daylight. He and Arthur both looked heated, which was nothing new. A few years before, John had run off for a while, longer than he should have according to Arthur. They’d been at each other’s throats since he got back. Annie saw Arthur point to her and across the fields, probably telling the rest of them what the plan was. As he ran off to get in position, she turned her attention to the east. It wasn’t long before the onslaught of O’Driscolls came riding across the plains. Annie quickly counted ten of them in total. This wasn’t going to be easy. She took in a deep breath and lined up her first shot, firing with a steady exhale. One down. The man’s head bobbled, his body immediately going limp and falling sideways off his horse. The piercing sound of the sniper rifle took the rest of them by surprise, but they kept formation, not knowing where the fire was coming from. She pulled the trigger twice more, dropping another two men. Seven more to go. They scattered with the third shot and Arthur instantly took off towards the four riders going south, while Annie focused her fire on the three fleeing north. From her peripherals, she saw the gang fall into motion as the first stagecoach entered the valley, John at the head. She was surprised they hadn’t stopped and turned around the wagons at the first sounds of gunfire. City folk had once again proven themselves to be notoriously naive. One of the O’Driscoll boys ran right past the disoriented escorts, but Annie splattered his brains on the road right next to them. She didn’t miss a shot, even from this distance with moving targets. Though Arthur and the rest of the boys would never admit it, she was the best sharpshooter in the gang. If there was one thing she was sure of about herself, it was her steady aim. She picked off the last O’Driscoll in her sights and turned her attention back to the heist. The three moronic escorts were off to the side in front of Micah on their knees, clear of the robbery. Three coaches full of rich travelers and precious cargo meant a huge haul for them. This was the biggest job they’d done in a few months and she prayed nothing more would get in the way as she packed her gun onto her saddle and began to mount up to help Arthur. “Long time no see, Bolton’.” She froze. The eerily familiar voice came from behind her. A revolver hammer locked into place and a chill ran down her neck when she felt the barrel turn its aim on her. “Gregory,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and raising her hands. “What brings you boys to these parts?” “Just on the trail of some vermin. Looks like I caught myself some. Why don’t you come on home with me?” “Why? You miss me?” “I sure as hell don’t. Colm do, though. I’m just doin’ his biddin’,” he scoffed Anger rose up within her at the mention of Colm. He’d taken her in when she was a child, but not in the way Dutch did with orphans who need a home. He was more like her owner, making her dress up for jobs to use her as bait, training her to kill, steal, and fight. If she did do it the way he said, she earned herself a beating, if he was feeling kind. She eventually was able to get out when she was about 13. They’d had a few run-ins since, but she always somehow managed to escape. But it came close once. Too close. About a year ago, she was laying in her bed, mending the gunshot wound that should have killed her. The bullet somehow left all vital organs undamaged, missing her left lung by just under an inch. It still gave her a run for her money when it got infected after being stranded out in the elements for a day or two. Hosea found her facedown in the mud, 40 yards from camp. She didn’t remember how, but she walked and dragged herself the whole way from town, nearly six miles away. How she didn’t bleed out was beyond anyone. By some unruly stroke of luck, surely. She slowly turned to face the man she once knew as Joseph Gregory. His left shoulder was shot, likely in the collarbone from the way his arm was limp at his side. He must have been one to get away from Arthur. Now that he had her cornered once and for all, the manic grin across his face was hauntingly overjoyed. “You boys been followin’ us, then?” “‘Course we have,” he said. He’d lost a lot of blood, but he seemed more angry than concerned. “There’s a price on your head in two different states. Figure it’s easy money.” “Well, seems like nothin’s changed with you. You can’t take me in to the law if Colm wants me. Where’s your loyalty lie, Joey? With Colm or with the money?” Gregory smiled. “Colm says he’ll let me have you after he’s done with what he needs to do witcha. I’m gonna call the bounty money a bonus.” “We both know that’s a damn lie.” “It ain’t!” “So you intendin’ to take me alive, then?” “So long as you cooperate. I’ll shoot them pretty little legs right off ya if you don’t. He only needs a part of you still breathin’.” “C’mon now, you don’t think I’ll willingly get on that nasty ole nag of yours, hands tied with no way of defendin’ myself, do you?” His smile faded. “I don’t see how you’re in any position to be makin’ demands, bitch.” “Go on, then,” she taunted, dropping her hands to her side. “Shoot my ‘pretty little legs’ off.” He frowned and cinched his eyebrows together in frustration. It was a thin line she was treading, but she knew Colm O’Driscoll. He wanted her for himself. And Gregory was afraid of Colm more than he hated Annie. “You can ride your own horse,” he mumbled, reluctantly. “But I gotta tie your hands to my saddle.” She smirked and held her hands out. “See? That seems reasonable.” He holstered his gun and started to restrain her. Annie smiled when she saw the rider in the black hat pop up over the hill, just behind Gregory. Arthur pressed a finger to his lips and crept towards them, revolver in hand. When he was in position he nodded and Annie made her move. “Achoo!” she sneezed right into Gregory’s face, stunning him for half a second. It was enough time for Arthur to jump into action and pressed the gun right into the O’Driscoll’s spinal cord. Annie rubbed her nose, mockingly. “Sorry, must be all the dust.” “You goddamn bitch! I’ll gut you for this!” “Hey now, didn’t your mama ever teach you how to talk to a lady?” Arthur said. He grabbed Gregory by his arm and forced him to the ground, face down. “That ain’t no lady,” Gregory snarled. “That’s a damned she-devil.” Annie chuckled as Arthur smashed the butt of his gun into the man’s head, making him yelp like a dog. “Nah, he’s right, Arthur. I ain’t no lady. I’m so, so much worse.” She approached him and knelt so that he could see her face clearly. “Now, if you survive this, you tell Colm we’re far too smart for him. We’ll always see him comin’. We’ll always be one step ahead. Always.” She nodded to Arthur and he hogtied him without struggle. “C’mere,” he said, slinging Gregory onto his shoulder and walking him down the hill to the his horse. He threw him on the back and secured him to his own saddle. “Have a good trip, now. Make sure you take a left at the crossroads.” With that, Annie slapped the man’s horse and they took off into the distance. “You shoulda shot him,” she said. “I didn’t wanna miss and accidentally hit you.” “All the same.” “You okay?” She shuffled her feet and adjusted the brim of her hat. “Yeah, no reason why I shouldn’t be.” “Well, you were just starin’ down the barrel of that bastard’s gun.” “Nothin’ new. Concern’s not a good look for you, Arthur.” “Sure. How many you get?” “In all? Six.” “How many shots?” Annie grinned deviously. “Do I really need to answer that?” “No,” Arthur laughed and shook his head. “You sure don’t” Annie’s smile faded and she sighed. “They’re trackin’ us. Bastard said so himself. They’re… uh, tryin’a get to me.” “Shit. I knew Colm to be vengeful, but not like this. What did you even do to the man, again?” “I left him, joined up with his sworn enemy, and started killin’ his men. I reckon that’d make him pretty mad.” “This ain’t mad. This is crazy.” “There a difference?” Before he could respond they saw John ride up to them from around the side of the hill, followed closely by the rest of the gang on the job. “Thanks for havin’ our back, you two,” John said, nodding to the pair of them. Javier tossed them both a single stack of bills. “Here’s your cut. We should be gettin’ outta here.” “Right, Arthur and Annie, always there to save the goddamn day.” Micah said, a bit too loudly. “We didn’t run it, why do we get a cut?” Annie asked, ignoring Micah’s jab. “There wouldn’t have been a bloody job if it weren’t for you two bastards,” Sean chimed in. “Why are you arguin’? Let’s get a move on!” “I ain’t arguin’,” Arthur said, shrugging. He whistled for his horse and Annie did the same. “Let’s go, law’ll be here any minute on account of all the gunfire. Separate ways everyone. Stay outta sight and outta trouble.” Annie mounted her horse and turned to ride off with the rest of them when she noticed Arthur hanging back, taking in the view of the scattered O’Driscoll corpses from the ridge. She rode up to him and noticed a puzzled look on his face. “What is it?” “Oh, uhh… I was just… wonderin’ about how they heard about the heist. Kinda suspicious, don’t ya think?” Annie sighed. “We can figure all that out at camp. There’s nothin’ here that’ll help.” “Maybe there’s -.” “Arthur,” she said, cutting him off. “What is it?” He sighed, hesitating. “It’s Dutch. He’s concerned for… well, us. You and I.” “Why’s that?” “A while back he told me that Colm’s apparently been hearin’ the message that you’re close with me. Dutch says he’ll try to use me to get to you. Now I don’t rightly worry about myself in that regard. But the way Colm’s been gunnin’ for you… It’s unsettling.” Annie shifted in her saddle, a bit unnerved. “Why’s any of this on Dutch’s mind?” “Don’t be like that, Annie, he’s only lookin’ out for the gang.” “Just seems he shoulda come to me about it, seein’ as it’s my responsibility.” “It’s just as much mine as it is yours.” “Is it? You don’t know what Colm’s capable of, I can guarantee you that much.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think I know what he’s done?” “No,” she said, plainly. “I don’t. The next time you or Dutch have a conversation about who will be dyin’ ‘cause of me, I’d like to be there for it.” “We weren’t talkin’ about-.” “About what? Throwin’ me out?” “Jesus, no! Of course not, Dutch’d never do that to one of his own.” “Really?” she scoffed. “I was an O’Driscoll once, you think he’s forgotten about that?” “He ain’t Colm. You were a kid, same as all of us when we fell into this life. Dutch knows that, he knows your story, how it went for you. It’s bad business.” “He ain’t know the half of it. Neither do you.” “Tell me then,” he challenged, raising his hands in exasperation. “If you’re so hellbent on us knowin’ the whole story.” “I ain’t,” Annie snapped. “Look. I know what Colm’ll do once he’s got his sights set on someone. He’ll use anyone he can, anyone you’re close to.” “Is that what we are then, Arthur? ‘Close’?” He paused, taken aback by the question. “Well, I don’t know, are we?” Annie shook her head and sighed loudly. She felt a confusing mix of anger and sadness swirling in her stomach. If the two of them had anything in common, it was their temper. “Arthur, you gotta understand, if anything happened to you… or the rest of the gang for that matter... because of me, I’d never forgive myself. I was a fool for hopin’ it’d be different. After everything I’ve done…” Arthur didn’t seem like he knew how to respond. He just looked at her with longing eyes, begging her to not finish building the wall she’d been putting up between them for as long as he’s known her. The silence grew more and more tense between them. But she realized she knew what she had to do. “I’ll talk to Dutch and Hosea,” she continued, her voice suddenly weak. “I’ll do a few more jobs with you all, help you out some while I make what I need to be on my way.” Arthur shook his head in denial. “No, Annie. That ain’t gonna go over well.” “Damn what Dutch says then. I won’t do that to everyone. We have our differences he and I, but you all are fine people. Hosea will-.” “No, not with Dutch. Not with Hosea. With me, with John and Charles, Lenny, and Tilly and the rest of everyone-.” “I just-.” “Shut up for once, will ya?” he snapped at her. Her breath hitch on the lump forming in her throat and she suddenly couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. “Annie, we’re family now, ain’t we? We’ll protect you. I will. I won’t… I can’t do none of this without you. None of us can, we need you.” “We should go, Arthur,” she said, her voice cracking. The feeling of dread sank in her stomach like a rock. She lowered her head so her hat hid her face, fearful of what her expression might reveal. “Please, can I see you at camp? Can we talk about this?” “Since when are you one for talkin’?” She cleared her throat and hesitated. “I’ll meet you back there.” With that, she took off towards Blackwater, mustering all her strength to hold herself together. She knew it wouldn't last very long.

[cebeavers]

Cedar Point 2018

May 25 & 26, 2018 Photo Album Video Album

If you can’t find a way to go to Cedar Point during dead week, Memorial Day Weekend has proven to be a great time to head to Cedar Point and find moderate attendance and lighter lines.  In the past four years I’ve spent 3 Memorial Day weekends at the park, and have had a great time on each visit.  Even with the long drive from North Carolina to Sandusky, the trip is worth it to visit America’s Roller Coast, and having followed the transformation of Mean Streak into Steel Vengeance over the last 2 years, I was determined to get to the park this year to ride.  My friends Isaac and Blake joined in, and on Friday morning we headed north.

Isaac found a nice AirBnB about 30 minutes south of the park and, after stopping off there to drop off our stuff and freshen up, we made our way onto the peninsula.  We parked in the Cedar Point Shores parking lot since the Magnum lot was closed, and headed in to meet up with Bryan Bird.  After introductions and salutations, we walked towards Dragster, which was testing after being closed.  The line opened as we walked by, so we quickly got into the queue as the wait wouldn’t be this short all weekend most likely.

Dragster is always a great experience, even if it isn’t a great coaster.  We waited about 35 minutes or so to ride near the back of the train.  Dragster always makes me anxious because of that launch.  This was Blake’s first time at the park and first time on anything like this.  As always, the launch was super fast and intense and I really still like Dragster as a ride.  This was our only ride all weekend because it was being cranky both days.

We walked around the front of the park and headed over towards Millennium Force.  I noticed when driving by that the line started at the end of the ramp and was happy to see that was still the case.  It only took about 30 minutes to get on the ride.  I know the coaster gets a lot of ‘hate’, but I actually really like it.  The first drop is already amazing and the setting can’t be beat.  There is airtime on the two hills hopping back over from the island, and even the small hop by the station gives you a rise out of your seat.  Blake once again loved it.

After that we headed across the midway to Rougarou, which was nearly a walk on, and we got on in the back.  The ride packs a punch and is so much better than Mantis ever was.  We walked around for a bit and thru Frontier Town.  Steel Vengeance had a very long line, so we walked around the park and finally hit up the burger joint back near Steel Vengeance as Bryan said the food was good.  And the food was decent.  The customer service, however, was severely lacking.  It took way too long and they kept messing up orders, but eventually we did get our burgers.  After that we headed to the entrance to Steel Vengeance to get in line to end our nite.  The wait was about an hour and twenty minutes with them running one train.

Steel Vengeance-I can’t even give a proper rundown of the ride.  Its just as good as everyone said, no overhyping here.  The first drop was amazing.  We rode in the back seat.  The 90 degree drop was amazing.  After that you have the two outward banked ejector airtime hills. Then I can’t honestly tell you much about what happened because it was a big convoluted mess.  And I mean that in the most awesome way possible.  This coaster has the intensity of Voyage (the only ride I can say is in it’s category), but without the rattle (however slight) that any wooden coaster can have.  I was weak in the knees and dizzy afterwards for a good thirty minutes.  Instant number one.  It delivers every thing.  All of the things.  It has them.  Airtime, floater and ejector.  Sideways airtime.  Inversions.  Insanity.

So that was the end of the first evening.  I was in total ecstasy.  And it shown thru for the entire ride back to the AirBnB thirty minutes away.  Once we got there we got our stuff together and I took a shower and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning we got up and got ready to head out.  There was a McDonalds down the street that was good for breakfast.  We pulled into the parking lot right around 9am and headed in for Platinum Pass early entry.  We had planned to go straight back and get on Steele Vengeance, but once we got back there the line was already full.  We decided to forgo that till the end of the day once again and get some other early rides in.  And the closest early ride was Maverick.  I still love Maverick in every way.  I’m glad they’re restoring effects.  Thusfar some of the lights in the tunnel are working.  I can’t wait till the LED walls and more of the effects are added back in in the tunnel.  It really helps an already amazing ride.

It was getting close to park opening so we headed up to Valravn thru Frontier Town, stopping by the closed petting zoo for a brief visit with some donkeys.  On our last trip, Isaac and I got a back row nite ride because it was the debut year and the line was really long, and the ride barely ran the next day.  This was my first daytime ride, and we rode in the front row this time.

Valravn-That first drop on any dive coaster is great.  The view from Valravn though, is really beautiful.  While not a huge fan of dive coasters I do think this is the best layout, even if Sheikra has better theming.  The inversions are smooth and that zero g roll has great airtime, which was hitting much harder on this visit.  I really like the coaster more on a second go round.

As we were in the area we hit up Blue Streak, which was (and has been for some time now) running phenomenally along the track.  Great airtime and such a classic coaster.  Then we walked over towards the front of the park.  I mentioned at some point that I wanted to ride Ocean Motion as I never had, and it has such a cute, quaint setting.

Though I'm still trying to get back down to my pre-surgery weight of 2015 (I’ve lost 20lbs since December!), I’m not skinny enough to ride Wicked Twister.  And that’s fine for now because I know I’ll be back down.  But I didn’t want Isaac nor Blake to miss out, so after getting some Starbucks I told them to get in line while I sat and watched and had some coffee.

Since we were already in the area and close to Gatekeeper, that was what we got in line for next, which was basically a walk-on.  Maybe a one train wait.  I know this coaster gets a lot of flack for being big and snoopy and boring, but I like big and snoopy and don’t think it’s boring.  Plus it’s very stunning to look at.  After Gatekeeper I took Blake to see the top floor of the Coliseum, knowing that he’d love the big band era art deco.

We decided to have lunch, and with Isaac having some food allergies, and Blake being in the mood for it, we decided to hit Panda Express.  Oh, and since I have the dining pass, I was fine with it too.  We walked over to Melt first as I wanted to try it out at some point and decided to have dinner there.  Then we walked to the main midway and followed a marching band.  As we walked across the park we were able to see some of the rehearsal for the new show on the former Luminosity stage.  Meh.  I liked Luminosity. Once we were done eating we got in line for Iron Dragon.  This was actually one of the longer waits of the day, clocking in at around 20 minutes.  But thats okay.  I can give or take Iron Dragon, but didn’t want Blake to miss out.

I wanted to see what the wait for Steel Vengeance would be like so our next stop was back in that corner of the park, but sadly the line was well over 2 hours.  We walked back to the main midway and hit up Derby Racer.  I love this thing.  I really need to ride the other 2 at some point.  At that point we were on our way out the front gate to move the car and hit up the water park for a bit.  The lines were even lighter at Cedar Point Shores.  I never visited Soak City.  The current waterpark looks outstanding.  Much better than what it used to be.  We weren’t planning on staying very long.  After changing into our swim trunks we headed over to some random slide complex and did a pink slide.

Isaac and I had wanted to do the drop slides, as we love them at Carowinds, but we passed for the moment and went to the big family raft slide.  As we neared the top, we could see a storm coming our way.  The large raft slide was really a lot of fun, and I got some good airtime up the side of the trough.  At the end it was starting to sprinkle, so we went for a dip in the older lazy river.  I wish Carowinds’ Lazy River was this long (Or that they had 2 like CPS).  As the rain got heavier we decided to call it a day at the water park after about an hour and a half just as the bottom dropped out of the clouds.

We went into the bathhouse and changed while basically being stranded in their for around 30 minutes.  Then once the rain subsided enough we headed to the car then drove over to Hotel Breakers for a drink at their bar.  I also had a cinnamon bun from Starbucks whilst drinking my Long Island Iced Tea.

The sun came out while we were hanging at Breakers so we headed down the boardwalk and entered the park by Windseeker, which I contest is still the best one of the group thus far.  Then I wanted to get some pictures from the Ferris Wheel, so that was obviously next.  We had looked at the line for Raptor before going to Shores, but it was still long.  At this point, however, the line was maybe 20 minutes so we hit that up next.  Blake and Isaac were then going to get their credits on Corkscrew as I took some photos, but the line was really long so we headed to Melt for dinner.  This was my first (and hopefully not last) Melt experience.  Our server was great and so was the food.  I like all of the nostalgia Cedar Point pictures in the restaurant.

A ride on the CP & LE railroad was our next stop.  Had it not been getting late we’d have rode the entire circuit but Blake still needed some rides and we hadn’t ridden two of the best rides in the park, so we took another look at Steel Vengeance’s line, then headed over to Gemini.  At this point it was only running the red side, but the ride was still super fun as always.

By this point it was a little past twilight and we headed to Magnum.  I couldn’t take my small nap sack on so I waited for Blake and Isaac to ride, then Isaac took all of our stuff to the car while Blake and I rode in the front of the car at nite.  Magnum is as glorious as ever, even if I didn’t get trim free rides this time.  But that’s…okay.

Blake still needed the mine train, but I needed a bathroom, so I told him to go ride that since I knew it would be a walk on while I went to the restroom, then we headed to Steel Vengeance to meet up.  The fireworks were going off as Blake and Isaac arrived and we got in line just before the point we had the nite before.  Again it was somewhere between 70 and 90 minutes to ride, but I lucked out and got a ride in row 8 as a single rider.  And it was still so amazing.  As we walked to the Magnum entrance to the park, I saw my first Dragster rollback.

My only main issues with the visit was that obviously they’re only running one train on Steel Vengeance, otherwise I’d have ridden a few more times as lines were light all weekend.  Cedar Point nearly every year is starting to spoil me as I’ve been 3 of the past four Memorial Days.  I think I’ll likely skip next year, but I will definitely be back for more of America’s Roller Coast soon.

We headed back to the AirBnB and we were all wiped out, so I fell asleep pretty soon after closing my eyes, ready for the drive the next morning to Kings Island.

[cdevroe]

My current photo library management solution

In this post I’m going to detail out how I manage my photo library. I have changed my workflow countless times over the years and I have the deep battle scars to prove it. I’ve switched services, storage providers, apps, folder structures, metadata schemes, you-name-it.

In 2018 I decided to set out on a sort of mission; I wanted to create a photo library that would be relatively future proof. Should I decide to use a different app or storage platform, I’d want to be able to do so easily rather than painfully.

Note: This solution is likely not for everyone. The number of hours I’ve spent to come to this solution cannot be overstated. But, I’m very happy with how it is working. Maybe if you’re reading this it can work for you too. Or, perhaps you can pull just one idea from it that will help you.

Here is what I had to accomplish:

Create a folder structure that I can control and maintain regardless of the photo application I choose to use to view my library or edit my photos

Store as much metadata about the photos within the files themselves – rather than an external database – so that the metadata would travel with the image across all platforms

Be highly searchable, glanceable, sharable

Store my personal photos, my wife’s personal photos, my photography “work” and projects, and my digital film scans.

Bonus: Be accessible from any of my devices

Tools

Bulldozer – A simple PHP script that copies all of my images into their proper folders based on date created

SetEXIFData – an app to set the date taken, GPS coordinates, keywords, and other EXIF information for my digital film scans

Adobe Photoshop – For editing photos

Adobe Bridge (Camera Raw) – For Super Resolution (on 35mm film scans)

OneDrive – For cloud storage of my library

Photos for Mac – To search, view my library locally, as well as create smart albums.

Epson V600 – To scan my film negatives, slides from family members, or old photo prints.

Silverfast – The scanning software that I use. It is a little clunky but by far the best software I’ve used to scan.

A few external hard drives

Here is what my current storage situation looks like.

My photo library weighs in at over 450GB and growing rapidly. I have no less than 4 complete copies of that library. I have the “working library”, “backup library”, “off-site backup library”, and “cloud backup library”.

Why 4 copies? Restoring from a cloud-based backup when you live in a rural area is… less than fun. I remember when Everpix was shutting down and they sent a notice to all users to download their entire libraries in a very short period of time. I’ll never make the mistake again of relying on a cloud-based storage solution for my photos.

Of course, hard drives go bad. So I have a local backup in my home office at all times should anything go wrong with the working library. The off-site backup goes with me in my bag. Sometimes I’ll leave it at work in case my house burns down. I know, this isn’t easy to think about but alas, I do. Lastly, the cloud-based backup is a failsafe. Cloud-based storage is incredibly inexpensive. In fact, my storage comes with my Microsoft 365 subscription. It also affords me the ability to search my library from any of my devices from anywhere in the world. Something I don’t do very often anymore but it is nice to have when I need it.

Workflow

My workflow for storing photos varies only slightly based on the source of my images. I have a few iPhones, my wife’s iPhone, some DSLRs, a drone, a wildlife camera, and multiple film cameras. I could be importing photos from any one of these devices (or all of them) at the same time. So I have a slightly different way of handling each of them.

Let’s start out with a simple example; imagine that all of the images I’m importing came from a digital camera like the iPhone, DSLR, or drone.

First, I throw all of the images from the devices into a single folder at ~/Pictures/import/digital

Next, I’ll take a few moments to go through those photos and delete anything I’d rather not import into my library. I’m not very strict at this stage. I am of the opinion that photos become more important with age – and again since storage is so inexpensive – so I keep the vast majority of the photos we create.

One quick note here: Since Eliza and I have the same iPhone models, I will quickly rename the photos that we took to be prepended with takenby_colin_FILENAME and takenby_eliza_FILENAME. This makes it dead easy to know who took the photo later even though the device models will be the same.

Once I’m finished culling and renaming the photos in the folder I move them into a waiting room of sorts at ~/Pictures/import/ready_to_be_copied. Let’s pretend I have 500 files in that directory now.

Next, I have a simple PHP script that I’ve called Dozer that will look at the file’s creation date and automatically sort them into their appropriate folders. So, an image taken on March 17, 2021 will be copied into a folder 2021/03/17 that exists on my main working library drive.

Dozer gives a little report in the terminal about how many files were moved, how many folders were created, and even warns me if any of the files were duplicates (it happens sometimes). This way I can be sure that all of the photos that I wanted to be copied were copied.

Once I’m satisfied that the process was done successfully, I’ll run Dozer a second time to throw the same files onto OneDrive in the same folder structure. I’d like to improve this part of my workflow wherein some sort of comparison is run against my entire OneDrive library.

Next, I open the Photos for Mac app and import the new files. When I do so, I make certain to check the “Keep Folder Organization” checkbox on the Import screen. By doing this Photos for Mac will keep the files where they are and will not move them into the main library file. Photos for Mac will, however, make a few different sized thumbnails to keep the app snappy. So your Photos for Mac library file will increase in size.

Using Photos for Mac gives me a quick glance at my entire library quickly, it also allows me to do some other organization like Albums, etc. on top of my date structure. I have Smart Albums for the cameras I own, for different areas of interest (such as Architecture), for people, etc. Though I still feel that Photos for Mac is not a good longterm storage solution I do believe it is an excellent viewing app. In addition, it is getting better and better at facial and object detection which is a nice bonus for searching my library. I can search for “cat” or “sunset” or for a specific person. Also, Photos for Mac respects the EXIF data that is on the file allowing me to sort photos based on the device that created them, any keywords I may have added, etc.

Film scans

I scan my film negatives using an Epson V600 and the Silverfast app. I generally scan at fairly high resolution and rather flatly contrasted – preferring to do my crops, edits, digital dodging and burning in Photoshop. Once I have a satisfactory file I’ll use SetEXIFdata, a rather crude Mac app, to reset the EXIF data of the file to the film camera’s details, GPS coordinates, etc. This is the controversial bit, many people would take offense to this. But I prefer to have this metadata go with the file, rather than using Photos for Mac to tag the photo or something. Because then all of the data is stored in the Photos for Mac database. And believe me, I’ve seen it, and it isn’t pretty.

My film photos come in two general categories; personal and projects. My personal film photos are usually from a vacation or day trip or something. And so I store these in very much the same way as I do photos that came from my iPhone. My projects files, though, are stored in a Photo Projects folder by some sort of name. For instance, I’ve got a multi-year photo project going where I take portraits of my friends in or near their backyard garden. Those go into a Garden Friends folder. I back up these files the same way I do all the others.

I am currently very satisfied with this workflow. There are a few sticking points that I’d like to improve, and I wish I had a UI for searching all of my files on my phone (that wasn’t OneDrive) but at least I have a system that works for me, is future proof to a degree, that I can control, and that is fast.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 54

So, I hadn't really spoken to Ava in some time at this point. I feel like we saw her time and time again in vehicles. We were now going to school in the same town after all, albeit, in very different environments. I certainly heard the stories about her – in a year's time since she'd left Kendrick, she had become very well known. How promiscuous she was, or that she had cheated on people, stolen from people, or how she had done more drugs and alcohol than most of the other people. She seemed to have her hands in a lot of cookie jars. Ava had dated Teal's boyfriend for a time, Lee – until he had left her for someone else. Lee had been into this band, HIM, which was a band that Sarah was really into. I could never quite get into HIM. I didn't like the sound of their instruments. I felt their albums were overproduced, and their lyrics were more about dark romantic images but had no meaning.

Ava ended up getting tickets to see HIM in Seattle that late fall however, and she hadn't seen Sarah or I for awhile, so she invited the both of us to go with her to Seattle. I had never been to Seattle before. There was always a part of me that resented Ava for what she had done. I felt like, in stepping between Zack and I, she had changed the course of my life. It was more than just the friendship betrayal thing. I really woke up everyday going over it and over it in my mind, even though it was going on two years since Zack had been in my life. They say time heals all wounds, but of course many of us know that to be silly. Time distorts feelings and memories. But certain things just don't disappear like that. I would say at this point, Zack was like this secret teddy bear I would pull out whenever I felt like the world was out to get me, either physically, or metaphorically.

Also, the feelings I had had for Zack had changed me in other ways that had nothing to do with Zack or myself anymore. I am not saying that my love for him was one of a kind. I realize there is only so much that is possible for me to describe with my writing capabilities, and it's been nearly fifteen years since those junior high days, so things are blurry to me now. But what I had felt had been so real that I had – and still have this ability to emotionally transcend all the meaninglessness of my life. The feelings come and go, but they laid the tracks down for my depth of feeling and imagination. For this reason, Zack became a symbol to me, of enlightenment. This is what he was to me, and how I viewed him, long after the fact. If Zack thought of me often during these times, I cannot say – but I am sure it was not like I thought of him. And when I had to see Ava's wild happy manic face, I felt this cold resentment. She had Jolened me. She had stepped on something beautiful because she had felt like it at the moment. She had changed me, and in some metaphorical way, I felt like she had clipped my wings, so now I was forced to struggle on the ground to build the stairs to reach the places in life that I had once had wings to fly to. For Ava, there would always be another person to go to after this one. She was much more of a survivor than I was. But things still hurt me.

All the same, Ava was fun as hell, I have never met a more fun person. And Seattle was Seattle. And I more or less liked HIM at the time, even though it wasn't truly my thing, so I went along. It was over the course of a weekend. Ava's father drove us. I was mystified and perplexed how Ava treated her dad. She would yell at him because of his driving. She would tell him to pass people, scream at him to speed up. Chastise him for not making the right lane. It was awful, and unnecessary. She didn't appreciate the trip at all. I could never even imagine doing that with a straight face, let alone to my own father, who would have shouted so loud that a black hole would have formed (I'm no scientist – seems legit), and I would have been sucked in for all eternity. The Washington desert is actually quite large. When people think of Washington, they think of the evergreens, basically the areas by the Coast and Mount Rainier and the Cascades. They don't realize that 75% of it is just dry evil desert. Each time I cross the Washington deadlands, I always wish that I could stop and take pictures of all the small towns, the dilapidated buildings that I find beautiful, with the bleak clouds in the backdrop.

When we finally got towards Seattle, I could barely believe my eyes. I had seen Portland, and I thought it had looked industrial and enormous. Seattle looked like the future. I was shocked at all the enormous signs, the angular sky scrapers. It looked like (and is) a very corporate city. It seemed almost like another planet to me, I was so used to small town life. When we went through the tunnels upon entering I was almost afraid and thrilled, seeing the way the darkness took over everything and there was nothing but the cars in front of you, all seeming to speed at 100 miles an hour, with the orange glow from the lights on the side of the tunnel. I was really that taken aback. It was hard for me to believe this place was real somehow. I knew that cities were big, but I didn't anticipate the atmosphere, or the feeling of hundreds of thousands of living beings competing and all with separate lives and ideas. This might sound crazy, but when I am in places where there are a lot of people, I feel really can sense all those people. It's not like I can hear thoughts. It's much more subtle than that. I get the strong vibes about it.

We were supposed to get the the show as soon as possible, but Ava was hungry and mad, so we stopped at a local Ihop. My father hadn't given me any money for the trip – he was/is very much a cheap toe in this regard, so I watched Ava wolf down ten pancakes. I was happy though, just staring out the window at the big city. It was raining of course. I remember leaving and we drove on city streets that were steep. The rain and the lighting and all the people almost reminded me a little bit like Bladerunner. When we finally got there, I had to wait in line. My ticket was in will call, and my line ended up being much shorter than theirs, so I stood alone and eventually got a better place than them. I was dressed grungy in a low key sort of way, and I felt a bit peculiar, because many of the people around me, real fans of HIM and melodic goth music in general, were dressed in black lace Victorian outfits that must have cost a fortune. White skinned lads with monocles and top hats escorted ladies in corsets and large framed dresses. HIM attracts a very similar crowd of people, and seems to lyrically loosely be based on the same people who admire and adore The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. I could not help but to notice just how lovely city people were. Small town people, though I don't actually see ugly in the same light as others do, are a lot more molish. I don't know what the secret of city people are keeping from middle America, but I want to find out. Other than the homeless people, people are better dressed, their skin looks nicer, they seem trimmer and more ready for the world. Of course, it's probably because I am walking down areas where people who have money shop. And money buys health – to a certain degree.

I was stopped, and a very giant lady – not fat, but giant, felt me up and down in a very serious way to ascertain that I was not carrying a weapon into the venue, she was slightly rude and pushy with me in the way that city people are when they don't have time for you. Of course, I just stood in the front area of the concert, trying and wishing I could get in the very front, and then eventually squeezing in to a place I wanted. Then I stood for another ten years, as you do during the beginnings of concerts, till your legs are just about to fall off – until the first roady comes in and gives you false hope that the band is going to start. Eventually, the first band came out, a band called Finch. Though I will never really say I dislike any genre, since certain bands give their genre a good name and some bad, I won't say that I dislike metal, screamo, nu metal, or post grunge, exactly, but this music never really appealed to me. From what I remember, Finch was kind of a screamo metal band that fit loosely in that category. It was kind of painful.

Then, eventually HIM came out. Sarah and Ava both had enormous crushes on Ville Vallo, the singer. He is a very unique and strong faced man. I will say that. He is lovely, in a very feminine vampirish way. He was definitely not my kind of lad however – like he was theirs. The show was pretty decent overall. I liked it more than I thought I would. One thing I will say – not that it matters since most people don't know who HIM is anymore – they were more of an early 2000's deal, is that they sound a million times better live. Ville actually sounds a lot more like Billy Idol than he does on album. He had a great scream, a scream that was never once captured on any of HIM's albums – which is pretty disappointing as history will never know the truth.

And since seeing CKY and meeting Chad I. Ginsberg, I had decided that in concerts, when you want someone to notice you – or even if you want someone to notice you in real life (though they might find you a bit odd), you stare at their eyes intently, and you try to dig through their brain. I didn't want to bother with Ville, but I tried it with his guitarist, who had famously taken some kind of shyness stoic oath to never look at his fans when he played. And he did seem to just look down almost the entire time. But I had one goal in mind, and I set to it. Eventually, after five songs in, he looked at me and he smiled. I was very satisfied. In a way, I felt like my ability to make the guitarist – I think his name was Lindy look at me, it kind of made me feel like I was still unique and special, even in a big city, and if I angled my goals properly, I could bypass just about anyone to get what I wanted. I could also mentally manipulate people without having to say anything. When you are not good with speaking – as I for the most part am not – being able to have an effect simply by giving the right facial expressions or wielding a commanding presence is very helpful in compensating for that.

I was saddened to leave Seattle. All my life, Seattle had been there, and I hadn't known it. I had walked back and forth in the small little town of Kendrick my whole life. I had learned to be deeply satisfied with rocks I found at the creek, fifty cent ice cream cones at the small supermarket, the howling of coyotes at night, the smell of nails in the local hardware store. And that had been all there was. I found people who seemed to elevate my life in some way or another, just in my small town. I could only imagine the possible friendships and people that I was meant to meet in a place like Seattle. I was missing out on life. It ached deeply.

Thanksgiving came along once again. My father decided to skip Thanksgiving. Mostly, Maria's family was living with us at that point and he didn't have the money or the wish to spend time with Maria or her kids. She took care of the house by this time and he would come home and go straight to his cold room upstairs. The television was always on cartoons – usually Barbie movies for Chantelle. The house was warm and peopled. To me, it was better than it had been. I think it was doing my father a favor too, but he was getting frustrated with Maria being there. Mostly, he wanted to buy more speakers. He had already spent several thousand on speakers and amps and foot pedals and such, and he wanted more. And Maria's son Ian was the kind of kid who would have ruined his speakers, and there was also not enough room for the speakers and amps he wanted so long as they were there. But he couldn't complain. I was in school till 6:00pm and couldn't be home to make dinner or anything like that.

My mother also skipped Thanksgiving, though we ended up getting invited to a late one later on by Danny's rich parents of Italian heritage. It was a last second thing. My mother felt anxious and outclassed. She was very worried that she wasn't good enough for Danny, and she demanded that we all dress up for the invited occasion. All I had was flannels, t-shirts and jeans. But she somehow found a black velvet baby doll dress for me to wear, and that was the first time I ever wore a dress since I had been ten or eleven years old, and only then for a band field trip at the time.

Before then though, I had been under the assumption that I wasn't going to get a Thanksgiving at all. Mike and Jenni heard about that, and Mike's eyes teared up a little bit. I tried to explain that it really wasn't too big of a deal, but he seemed to feel that it was heartbreaking and cold. Mike and Jenni always had their own Thanksgiving for the students. And in most ways, that is the official Thanksgiving I had that year, since Danny's parents were kind of judgy and strange and it had been an awkward dinner to say the least. I remember Mike and Jenni really went out of their way. We had all the good Thanksgiving foods, and there was as much of it as we wanted. They even had three different kinds of pies. I think at that moment, Mike and Jenni were at the peak of my liking for the two of them. They just really seemed to care if I had a good Thanksgiving. I tried to take that care, and spread it over my entire childhood. I tried to imagine that someone above me had cared at every junction in which someone had not cared, and for a time, I really believed they did care about me quite a bit.

Math was the one subject that wasn't taught well. The school had limitations in this area. The teacher was a young shy woman named Julie. She was very nervous and didn't seem confident in her ability to explain mathematics. I could tell she was a very practical and serious person. I've noticed those who get degrees in mathematics come in all shapes and sizes, but they all seem linked by this particular outlook on life – mathematical. She had just gotten her degree – and this was her first job teaching. There wasn't room for her to teach us altogether in one classroom, since the building only had two classrooms and one computer lab, so we were forced to watch a video in the computer lab with a sterile man explaining math problems to us. The video's sometimes didn't even work, so in that case, you were lead to a test, where they would give you multiple choice answers to pick from. Remember, I had only a passable understanding of ½ of a year's worth of algebra I. This was geometry, and I wasn't really ready for it. However, it was the only math class that was available and I needed math credits, so I was put in this class anyway. Julie tried to help all these students, but every single one of us was lost so she was over her head bouncing around trying to explain to us individually how to do the questions. She had a tendency to start doing the problem you were having troubles with, without explaining why she had chosen each step.

I sort of challenged her in a way that I didn't need to. It was probably immature. I just felt lost in the class, and got sort of nihilistic about the meaning of why I was doing multiple choice on complex math equations. I was passing, given that I had a way of staring at the problem long enough to where one just seemed more right than the rest, and generally it was. But I didn't know why, so it seemed pointless to even try in the math class, and I think Julie understood why I might feel that way, and yet she had no remedy for this mathematical crisis since the job was nearly impossible as it was – and she was shy and nervous and it put her on edge. I often would spend time on MS paint rather than do my math, and eventually she raised her voice at me. Looking back, I was making it difficult for people to teach me. I wasn't able to put myself in other people's shoes like I am now. She was actually trying to do something that was impossible. I could have at least complied to the best of my ability – but oh, the folly of youth. We are all masters of hindsight.

Mike began reading a book to us for literature class. I felt this was a strange move on his part – since it seemed to me that reading aloud was only ever done when teachers lazily wanted to give off the impression of making their students be 'involved' with each other's learning, by forcing them to all take turns with reading, which gives a very inconsistent and nerve racking experience for me. The book Mike chose to read us was called A Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley and I had never heard of it. Honestly, though I had been an adamant reader when I had been younger – mainly fantasy and soft science fiction books for young readers, I had given up on reading the moment I met Zack, and it had never occurred to me after that to pick up a book very often unless it pertained to a musician I liked. Mike read it very passionately, and it was offputting at first, but after awhile, very enjoyable. I won't explain the details of the book – else I spoil it for people, but I have always felt that, with having had the privilege of having the novel read aloud and explained to me by someone quite passionate and qualified to do so – I have a much fuller grasp of what the novel was about than many people do – not that we are talking about something profoundly difficult, but it has challenged a lot of people. I've met people who read it and didn't really understand the ideas that were at play.

What I took from the novel, and what the novel captures has less to do with a dysutopia we should all be afraid of happening in our imminent futures. Basically, it was a novel that explores consumerism and technology in society, the incompatibility between comforting bliss and truth, alienation from the society you grew up in and the meaning of love and sexuality – or meaninglessness of that. These are ideas I still explore today. This novel really changed the way I thought about things. These were ideas that, as a dumb 7th grade girl pining for Kyle Blegen's attention, I dealt with. Ideas of this nature had always been a part of my life in some form or another, and I believe that these subjects are ones that come up in unspoken forms everyday in people's lives. I just didn't know how to name them and I had believed that I was the only one who noticed them – which might have been partially why I was taken in by the conspiracy theory stuff that Zack introduced me to. Feeling frustrated and alienated by the town I grew up in, being rejected, wanting love to be incredibly deep, but being confused by how sex was more of a product that you sold to people – men in particular, watching the world change around me, looking at the adult world that was quickly coming up on me and being sickened by the emptiness of it, the monotonous emptiness of my parent's lives and their overworked, overstressed systematic suppression of frustration vented at me for being born, and doing everything in my power to pull Sarah down in my own unhappiness, seeing her ability to get by in life that I lacked as a symptom of being 'one of them' -  I really felt very trapped and alone.

But apparently, as I was soon to learn, I was not alone. In fact, I was never alone at all. I had not been able to articulate my thoughts – never heard anyone talk about these ideas and in a way I had never felt that they could be talked about – aside from maybe touched upon in song format – which I attributed to a sort of magic rather than the construction of logical thought, and so I had turned to feelings instead and rejected logic as some kind of enemy to art. When in all reality, the two were not exclusive, and there has literally been people in any given society for as long as human beings have been around. And there were writers, and great thinkers of every capacity that struggled just like me. It was what it meant to be human. And even the most famous supermodel in Hollywood probably wonders and struggles with these manifestations. It was humbling to me. It meant that I no longer had to put myself on a pedestal in order to feel like I had any sense of control or feel validated in my own confusion.

We ended up writing a very difficult essay for the book after it was finished, and it took me about three weeks of writing, but I got a B+ on it – and I felt like even though this might not be much for many of the students in public schools – none of their essays were this hard. This form of learning was actually causing me to rapidly catch up and even in some ways surpass the students of the main schools. It was painful. I remember this was when I started drinking energy drinks – I would drink them and write on the buzz. Mike was very impressed by my rapid improvement. He also noticed that due to the way my eyes shifted on the paper book (we all had copies of A Brave New World to read along to as he read), that I was gifted with being an equally auditory learner as I was a visual. Very few students were as centered in that category. And of course, this was happy news for me, as I felt unique and special on account of it.

I think that having reached this point in school where I was, even though I hadn't been there that long – I was now beginning to see myself as being academically gifted – not that I felt like I was a genius or anything, but some kind of pathway had been forged in my mind.  I was at the top of my class. And now I was able to demonstrate a point with proof – I was not the dummy everyone thought I was. I had connected the left side of my brain with the right side and even though I had not learned a lot, I now saw the world of ideas and books as being equally real to the feelings I had, and the exterior reality around me. I knew how to swim through it and come out on top. I could visualize it. But this bothered me. I guess it bothered me because the only further thing a person could do with their academic capacity other than learning for fun – was to go to college. I felt like I had somehow been tricked by my teachers into seeing myself actually going to college and getting a degree. A part of me must have thought at the time that having a degree meant something was wrong with you. That you had sacrificed your anger and your youth to 'the man'. I felt like if I even considered college, then I was essentially giving up the life I wanted – being in a band, writing music, playing with Sarah – being cool and living in some kind of heightened form of reality I now know isn't real – or at the very least, is fleeting just like so many other things.

During second semester, Sarah and I didn't go to the middle class. It was a speech class. Mike was oddly cold about my stage fright. He didn't really want to talk about it with me, or at least that is how I remember it. He wasn't going to give me baby steps into it, and when I had to stand up to read something I had written, I felt like I was going to throw up or pass out. It was too much for me. My ego was too problematic. And for some reason – I think it was because I had done okay in speech class in Kendrick's high school, I didn't need speech credits per say.  I still could have used those credits towards other subjects (for some reason they let the school do that), but I wasn't about to suffer like that on account of a speech class. So Sarah and I skipped. Since lunch was one hour, and classes went at about two hours, this gave Sarah and I three hours in the middle of the day to do whatever we wanted. It was winter now, and mind you – we were both very broke. So we would often cross the street over to this gas station jointed with an A&W and we would scrounge up the money to buy watered down coffee to draw and talk. The coffees were a dollar a piece and weren't so bad if you took total and full advantage of the mini creamers and sugar packet section. It was starting to snow in Moscow. It gets mighty cold in that college town in the middle of one hundred miles of farmland surrounding. It was oddly comforting to stay indoors, sitting at our appointed table to draw and talk as we looked across the street at the school, and at the snow and rain and cars. Everything felt so impending and real somehow.

I started talking to Sarah very seriously about what we should do next. Because I could only see staying the course of school to be counter intuitive to everything we stood for. I was beginning to get nervous about just how much I loved going to school. It didn't seem right somehow. It wasn't the cool life I had invisioned. It didn't seem very punk to stay in class and get an education. Furthermore, I was so behind on credits, I would have been in my twenties in order to pass – and that would be if I passed every single class. I was grateful at having learned so much, and wasn't about to rebel for the sake of it anymore. In fact, I was quite embarrassed for my first days in class of announcing stuff about The New World Order and the Freemasons and not knowing what I was saying or making any sense at all. I actually cared about what Mike thought of me. I actually cared about the truth now, and everything that came with that. But it didn't make sense for us to stay only to not graduate anyway. Sarah agreed with me, or at least seemed to. We agreed we would stay the rest of the year, and then we would get jobs, and start getting the equipment we needed and start practicing everyday like our lives depended upon it.

So, probably in an attempt to get a reaction from Mike, I started intentionally talking to Sarah about it in front of Mike one morning as he was getting his lessons in order for class that day. He was disappointed to hear about it. I could tell he didn't want to outright dismiss my dreams of angsty youthful instant success. But he wanted to do everything in his power to stop it from happening. To Mike, a college education was everything. Subtly, I think Mike looked down at people without degrees – which probably wasn't right, though I can see where he was coming from. I think he felt his goal in life was to get people with problems and in hopeless and lower class economic status to go to college and maybe to fight back against oppression and war. Mike was very much an idealist, and his realism was more of a defense mechanism against not getting his hopes too high. I don't remember the arguments I made exactly. I wasn't rude exactly, but I wasn't exactly diplomatic about it either. Mike ended up telling Jenni, who also talked to us. I can imagine it now, the conversation they had about Sarah and I in their ride home from work together. Mike and Jenni always felt that Sarah and I weren't good for one another. Maybe in some odd way they had a point – especially back then, but on that note I still have to say fuck them on that one ( a friendly fuck you, not an aggressive one). Not that they were ever mean about it. But they said and did some things that gave me a strong indication of what they thought on that note. Our dynamics were probably very unhealthy. Jenni didn't trust Sarah. She was friendly towards Sarah, she liked Sarah. But she thought that there was something about the dynamics of the situation that Sarah was feeding off of. And maybe my emotional issues were more understandable given I had a - I won't say abusive per say, because there was good in the bad, but a traumatic life thus far and might have been struggling against life more than Sarah was. Sarah was avoiding any sense of anger or responsibility and almost felt more important if people were mad at her – though it also stressed her out and made her feel horrible about herself. She just liked living in her room and daydreaming – though I think it is unfair to say that Sarah's problems didn't matter or exist. She had every reason to respond to her life the way she did as well.

Honestly, I wish I could have seen what they were seeing at the time, but being that I was the subject of study, I couldn't exactly ever know for certain. It would have been interesting. And I think Mike felt that I was more at fault than Sarah. One thing is for certain, Sarah and I had somehow developed a very unhealthy and codependent friendship, when I felt low about myself, suddenly the whole world became black and white and I felt betrayed and angry at Sarah, and then the next day I felt like our friendship was some kind of blessing and I felt very happy to be her friend and could not imagine what had caused me to be angry. And then I would go the other way. I was living in a split reality. I could not figure out why. My perceptions seemed amazingly clear and what I had to say made sense the same as when I was upset as when I was not. But I was getting crazier and crazier mad. We would come home, and Sarah and I would both be sobbing until we were too tired to think, and though we were both responsible for this madness, I was probably more at fault than she was. I had desperate insecurities and needs. Sarah had those too, but she didn't seem to know or want to do anything about it. So I was the one that acted out – probably due to childhood stuff that made me who I am.

After Jenni and Mike could not convince Sarah and I to stay in school, after getting called to the office to talk about it, I pretty much told them both it was a done deal. I asked Jenni not to tell our parents. I didn't really want to cause problems at home with my father or Sarah's mom just yet. We didn't want to be afraid to go home because of it. And it wasn't fair or wise to say anything to Sarah's mom or my father until we had a more realistic plan. Jenni agreed that she wouldn't call our parents on it, but come that weekend, Jenni had called Sarah's mom and raised her concerns. She didn't call my dad. Carol was not happy with Sarah. There was a chewing out of sorts. And I think this must have triggered me to feel betrayed completely. It reminded me of when the school had called my father, or when the teachers almost expected and wanted me to go to school with a black eye. I had gotten to the point where I felt safe with Mike and Jenni and now it was completely ruined and I could no longer trust them. I felt stupid for having ever trusted them to keep our secret. I was in a way – annoyed that they called Sarah's mom and not my father as well. Sarah and I talked about it as we drove to Moscow, and I was still heated up about it when I got into class. At some point in my conversation with Sarah, I called Jenni a liar. Mike overheard me talking, and he stepped in really pissed off about it. He told me not to call his wife a liar. He was actually angry. He wasn't about to lose his mind or anything, but I think it gave him the shakes. He really seemed to feel I was attacking Jenni on very personal ground. I don't think I said much about it because Mike's immediate reaction was offputting and intimidating, but I tried to point out that she had lied and it had messed with our lives outside of school (though it really hadn't messed things up for me actually – I was exaggerating because I was actually offended by the principle of the matter more than anything).

I think after this, Mike didn't like me. It was really quite that simple, and even though I held up my head as much as I could on it, it really hurt my feelings. In his mind, I had spit on the flower of a soul that was his beautiful wife, and with all the other awkward inconsistencies in my personality, the flawed need I had to argue, and just my overall everyday state of mind, he had had enough of me. He tried not to show it, but he seemed irritated by me in subtle ways. I suppose I don't blame him. I couldn't stand me either. He attempted to talk to me fairly even with the animosity, and some days were better than others, and we still engaged in conversation from time to time. But on a personal note, he didn't like me talking about friendly none school topics with him anymore – he would find subtle ways to snub me in that way. It felt like a wall was up against me. I didn't feel betrayed, I felt exiled. I became a little nervous about asking for help – as I have a famous issue for avoiding asking for help when I need it anyway and the slight bit of aggression towards me will certainly cause me to take a million steps back. The only time I felt safe to do so was when I was so deeply into my studies that I couldn't care about who I was or Mike was – all that mattered was reaching a core message with what I was trying to express. I would get zoned and ask for help on something without caring during those times - so I still was asking for help, but it still was never easy. And I am not going to lie, thinking about that cold reaction of someone I had grown to trust suddenly becoming a wall still hurts a little bit. I guess it must have hurt his feelings. Being a teacher the way Mike was could not have been easy. I suppose I must have been impossible.

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[berlinaura]

The preparations for March have begun! I have booked a trip to Zagreb-Lubljana-Venice! I am also in the process of booking some more. I was thinking of going to Athens but I’ll see what’s gonna happen. Also, 2 more days until Scotland! I am so relieved right now because the exam week was last week and looks like I am going to pass all courses (4/5 are already passed, I still need to wait for the result from the last one)

I have been out with friends every weekend now the past 2 months I think. Somehow we just always end up at Que Pasa... One Tuesday I had a movie date and went to see Knives Out which was actually really good movie! The trailer did not do it any justice. I always get asked whether the movies here are all dubbed. Most of them are but there are also options for non-dubbed versions so watching movies in original language is no problem as long as you make sure beforehand which version it is going to be :)

On Valentine’s day we went on a sushi date and then just stayed in with drinks. This was the first time I celebrated Valentine’s day on a non-platonic way. 

This week my parents visited Berlin. I had the most intensive study period because of exams but I managed to see them on three days. We visited the most common touristic places like Brandenburg gate, Reichstag and the holocaust memorial. The next day we went to the natural history museum of Berlin. The dinosaurs were impressive! One room was full of jars filled with sea creatures and that place was too much for me. That looked like a place straight from my nightmares :/ Afterwards we went to the oldest block in Berlin, Nikolaiviertel, for “a coffee” but ended up in a traditional pub and had beers and bratwurst. Third day I joined them for their hotel breakfast and got to eat something else than dry toast :D After my exam I met up with them again and we went bowling. This was the same place as I visited in early fall but I forgot how old fashioned the place was. The screens were straight from the 80s, showed false scores and the machinery used for clearing out pins jammed basically every minute. No wonder the place got a rating for 2 stars, lol. For an occasional amateur bowling this place is suitable I think.  

My exams went well. The oral exam I had could have gone better. We were assigned 10 minutes and I felt like I was in a job interview. We had pre-written questions but the teacher didn’t let me answer my answer to the end because he was already bombing me with additional questions. I despise oral exams compared to written ones because I crave for a paper and pen to organize my thoughts. I felt like I didn’t have any time to think what I was going to say. Additionally, the teacher asked super vague questions such as “and how does this relate to the framework of the lecture...?” I started thinking which framework he was referring to because that word had been used to address like 5 different things. Then he asked a more specific question to “help me out” and I knew all of the answers. His feedback afterwards was “I wished you had guided the conversation more, I felt like I had to continuously ask you things for you to say the right things!”  well no shit! 

After the exam they asked me whether I preferred working in group 1 or group 2 (we had to group works in this course and different groups each time). When i said I preferred group 2, they were BAFFLED. “Really!? Even though the first group was so much better”. I said “I evaluate my experience through the group dynamics and fair allocation of work, not based on the final grade” and they were speechless, lol. Also, they used such a long time justifying the grade (which was 1,7 going in to the category “good”) and weren’t interested in my overall experience of the course. Rather than asking if I found the course useful etc, they asked me if I am satisfied with the grade and if I feel like it was fair. I mentioned that I am really in that point where I have no energy for stressing over grades and I am here to learn rather than polish up grades. I said that the course was interesting and I feel like I had been learning a lot of new things, which is totally true, I liked the course very much! I also said the grade is going to be “pass” for me in any case so to begin with, I attended the courses for my own learning and not for the grade. This concept seemed to be hard for them to grasp.

I have noticed this as a big difference in my home university and TU Berlin. Here, people seem to obsess way more about grades. Even the teachers are grade-oriented. I don’t understand how people survive in a system like this, especially when the written tests are 60-75 mins and TENS of pages long. The environment of actually learning rather than proving memorizing skills is something that I will definitely appreciate better when getting back. 

Last Friday, after my last exam I threw a WG party! We were supposed to play board games but since ONE of us had something against Monopoly, we played Exploding Kittens as well as normal card games and beer pong. I taught “Hitler” (which we translated to “Stalin” to be more acceptable) and “Fuck the dealer”. We tried our best to drink all of my leftover booze but there’s still some left! After opening up about our lives, playing the coin game, doing worm dance, sharing our sex preferences, clearing out what is wrong with Whisky sours and Pewdiepie’s accent, making drunk calls for friends and drawing each others, we did NOT follow the original plan of going to a pub and headed home. It was a successful night! I left my phone home though as we left to the night and worried everybody for the next day while I was just peacefully chilling and watching movies.

* a month passes by *

Okay so I don’t even know where to start. I am currently in Finland and my exchange year is over. I passed all exams but I left a lot of erasmus stuff unfinished as I had to leave Berlin due to Corona virus. 

In the end of February we did the trip to Scotland. First we flew to Edinburgh from where we took a bus to Glasgow. This place was super cozy but also very cold. The trip was extremely relaxing. We drank beer and coffee, visited some sights and ate the best pizza I’ve ever tasted in my life. I also took the first Uber trip of my life. After 2 days we took a bus to Stirling, a random small town in Scotland. We wanted to spend the day there because we wanted to see a real Scottish castle. Stirling was the best getaway vacation where you can just relax in old fashioned boutiques and cafes and listen to birds. We walked up to the castle but didn’t enter because it cost 16 pounds each “:D”. After a few hours we continued our journey with a train to Edinburgh where we spent 2 more days. 

Honestly, I enjoyed Edinburgh a bit more than Glasgow. Our hostel was in a perfect location, about 200m away from the Edinburgh castle. We visited the castle (from the outside, again), went to movies to see “Jojo Rabbit”, drank beer and played board games in pubs. One day we were supposed to go shopping but decided to climb up the extinct volcano, Arthur’s seat. The road was super muddy but a lot of people seemed to be climbing up there, even in late February. Some dude gave us a snarky “Starbucks is over there” comment on top of it because my friend expressed her concerns getting down the muddy hill because it started raining... This quickly became our go-to line to say whenever we saw a Starbucks in the city. 

After this trip I had 2 days in Berlin which I used for doing laundry and chilling. Then I headed to Zagreb, Croatia. This time I was traveling by myself so I engaged with the activities my hostel had to offer. The hostel choice was superb! They had just the kind of common room and activities I was looking for. We sang karaoke, played beer pong and just chatted in the common room. I don’t think I’ve never felt so young, wild and free than then, lol. I used one day basically for shopping at the mall and walking there. I ended up buying tights and an overall badge. 

After 2 days in Zagreb I took a Flixbus to the neighbor country, Slovenia. Ljubljana surprised me positively. I had no expectations whatsoever but this city was beautiful and lively! I think I could have spent one more day in Ljubljana. I climbed up to the Ljubljana castle at night and watched the city which seemed HUGE from up there. There were city lights as far as I could see, yet the city has under 300 000 residents. The prices were also super cheap. 

The next day I went shopping again and.. BOUGHT TIGHTS. There is this shop that only sells tights and socks. As I had been buying a bunch of skirts from Berlin, I felt a need to buy a few pairs of special tights so I did. The room in my backpack was limited so I also had to consider my buying urges a bit more than usually. Of course I also bought a badge from Ljubljana, too. In the afternoon I took a bus to Bled, a city in North-West Slovenia. This bus trip took around 1,5 hours and I was so confused because it was a mixture of tourists and pre-teens coming from school. There was no board that announced the stops so I tried looking at signs to know when to get off. Eventually I got off at the Bled lake which was one of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. I read that a lot of people get married in these surroundings and no wonder! 

I walked around the lake, taking pictures from time to time and enjoying the view of the lake, alps and a beautiful castle in a small island in the middle of the lake. After I left Bled, the cloudy sky cleared up to a beautiful sunset with a few pink clouds and I just could get my eyes off the mountains. The teens in the bus didn’t seem to appreciate their surroundings but I guess that’s just the way it goes.

The next day I was supposed to take the bus to Venice, but due to corona outbreak I adjusted my trip and took the bus to Vienna instead. I was in the Flixbus for 4 hours but the time flew by. I think I want to make another trip like these because honestly, Flixbuses are so cheap, yet they are modern and traveling through small European countries goes by so quickly. It also allows me to look at the views or Netflix, eat snacks and get fresh air in breaks. From Vienna I flew to Berlin, though. I was surprised I found a flight for 20 euros because I booked it so late. 

I was supposed to spend 4 days in Berlin before going to Munich with my sister but the corona situation got so much worse that I decided to wrap up my school stuff (which I couldn’t because my school closed its doors and I didn’t get an answer from a professor that I needed a signature from). I moved my flight from the end of the month and flew to Finland feeling fucking depressed. The overall atmosphere in the whole Europe (and world) is now melancholic, chaotic and uncertain. At first I was feeling annoyed because of my canceled Munich and Athens trips but then I started panicking if I’d even get back to Finland so now I am glad I got home safe. I am spending the next 1,5 weeks in quarantine - I got home just in time before 

This whole month has been hectic and I am going through a lot of positive and negative feelings at the moment. I’m gonna make one more post after I have gathered my thoughts.

[oxyjinwrites]

Malibu (MYG)

*Not part of the challenge/other prompts*                                                               Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader                                                                                   Songfic: Malibu- Miley Cyrus

The sand. Beautiful sunsets. Everything was perfect.

Something about the place just gets me emotional.  Lyrics came pouring in my mind, like the ocean waves rolling into the sand. I remember perfectly how the sound of the guitar and seagulls inspired me to write the melody of the song. It took me less than half an hour to come up with this song. Now, i’m sharing it to the world for the first time.

Possibly to him, the man behind this song.

After 2 years of taking a break, I decided to write a new album, and now it’s nominated in numerous categories of the Billboard Music Awards. I was invited to the nominees party and a lot of people congratulated me.  Just the next day, something caught my eye on the news.

“BTS: the first ever kpop group to be nominated for a Billboard Music Award” along with the picture of the seven boys taken at their recent concert. My attention was caught by the short, fair-skin young man in the left corner of the picture. Min Yoongi.

Gosh Min Yoongi, it’s been a long time.

“Hey, you are up in 5 minutes”

I was torn away from my train of thoughts. This was not my first time performing, but i could feel every ounce of my body stiffen. Nervousness starts to reel in, to the point i felt like puking. Is it due to my 2 years absence? Or is it due to performing a song I wrote about Min Yoongi, infront of Min Yoongi? I had no clue.

I cautiously made my way to the stage, afraid that i would ruin the train of my designer dress. My mic-stand and guitar was waiting for me. I adjusted my guitar, and then proceed to scan the audience. I located BTS at the far back, and could see Namjoon and Hoseok waving at me. I smiled back at them. Soon the lights were dimmed, signalling the beginning of my performance. I strummed the first few chords, and a whole ocean of emotions starts to wash over me. Memories instantly came flooding back.

I never sat by the shore under the sun with my feet in the sand

But you brought me here and I’m happy that you did. Cause now i’m as free as birds catching the wind

It was our third year anniversary, and he suggested that we go on a trip together as a couple. I suggested to go to metropolitan cities such as Tokyo, New York, Vancouver. He shook his head telling me no, and that he had plan the destination. 

“We’re going to Malibu. You never had the chance to go to the beach, so why not for our anniversary”

So, off we both go. Excitement and fear filled my heart. Little did i expect that i would be visiting again after several years, let alone enjoying the ambience.

I always thought I would sink, so I never swam

Sometimes i get so scared of what I can’t understand

“You gotta try and take risk once in a while.” he said and drag me to swim in the ocean with him. “It’s not my fault that i’m not a risk taker.” I said while using all my energy to stop him. He sighed then led me to one of the beach chairs. He sat, held on my hands, and look me straight in the eye. “That goes the same for songwriting, you shouldn’t be afraid to try something refreshing and new”. I paused and processed everything, while looking down on the sand that was hugging my feet. “Babe, i know that you’re stuck with no ideas for lyrics, i mean it doesn’t hurt if you try something outside of your comfort zone, who knows it might work out.” He said. In the moment when i brave myself to glance up and look him in the eye, i knew he was right. Goddamnit min yoongi is always freaking right.

“come on, the point of this trip is to relax and have fun” he said and flash me his gummy smile before he ran into the ocean waves. Guess what? So did I.

But here i am, next to you, the sky’s more blue, in Malibu

“See, i told you that you would like it! You never know unless you try” he beamed at me, as we were drying ourselves from the ocean swim. “Fine, whatever you say honey boy” I said and slapped his chest gently. He pulled me into a hug and his warmth immediately took over my body. I wish i can freeze time because i swear, the clouds weren’t visible and all i could see was a wide blue yonder.

I never would’ve believed you, if three years ago you told me, I’d be here writing this song

“Congratulations babe, see i knew you could do it, you just have to see it from another point of view.” Yoongi said, as he pulled me into a tight hug. I took his advice and experiment on different genres. I finally could write my own full album.

“Any song about Min Yoongi?” he asked and smirked. “There are definitely a couple of them” I said, my cheek turns into a rosy shade. “Anything about Malibu tho?” He said then chuckled. I laughed with him. “Not anytime soon, i still prefer tall skyscrapers over beaches.” I said. “Well, someday you will, i can feel it someday you’ll write about Malibu.” He said, “And when that song is released, i’ll be sure to send you an i-told-you-so text” He said while chuckling and ruffling my brown hair.

Should have known from Agust D that Min Yoongi’s side job is fortune telling.

Sometimes i feel like I’m drowning and you’re there to save me”

“I can’t do it anymore Yoongi, the album is not doing well. Maybe i should just stop writing songs, and go back to my old job.” I said, stress washing all over my body. “What?! No! Always remember why you decide to choose songwriting, think about it. Think of why you started this in the first place” He said with a slightly raised voice.

“It’s just that i’ve tried so hard, and try everything i can. It just doesn’t work out. No one wants to listen to my lyrics.” I said as I feel tears welling up my eyes.

“If people don’t like your lyrics, then so be it! Not everyone can appreciate and understand art.” He said pulling me into a hug, while rubbing my back to soothe me. I cried my eyes out on his chest.

“Trust me, one day they will, just don’t ever give up”.

I wanna thank you with all of my heart. It’s a brand new start. A dream come true, in Malibu

It was a usual monday morning in the studio, when my manager called. “Your album is Top 10 on Itunes and No.1 in several countries.” My manager screamed over the phone. I feel my tears welling up. Finally after years of hard work and perseverance. “OH GOSH, thanks for the news! I’ll call the others to tell this good news” I said then immediately hung up. I scrolled over my messages, and stop on my chat with Min Yoongi.

Oh, how badly i wanted to text him.

We ended things a couple years ago, and we haven’t talk to each other ever since. I guess he had some credit towards my success now. The events happening in Malibu kept replaying in my head. I decided not to text him, and proceeded to text my friends.

A sound of clap and cheers once again cut me off from my train of thoughts. I immediately open my eyes, and reality came back to me. I just finish my performance, confetti and balloons falling down from the ceiling. I look around and smiled at the crowd, trying to make every eye contact possible. Just then, i made an eye contact with a familiar brown orbs. Min Yoongi. His messy black hair, his fair white skin, his small heartwarming eyes. A few tears formed in his eyes, as he continuously clapped along with the audience. His gaze wouldn’t leave me. I let out a small sigh, unable to contain the tears i’ve been holding. I wipe my tears, as i smiled back at him.

Thankyou for shaping me, Min Yoongi. I am eternally grateful.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #16

UPDATE 16: The Zeroes and the Non-Heroes

Ahahaha, what a lame title I made. Oh well.

Last time it had been the time to deliver the money to the boss, but it turns out two villains stole it and are now making a show out of a fight with the Undersiders. It’s likely to involve bombs. Let’s start that!

It’s strange to read there aren’t good bugs around here. I’d have imagined that bugs had a way to permeate pretty much any place in the city, but all there’s in the storage are cockroaches, spiders and moths – and I suppose there aren’t that many. Skitter is already at disadvantage. Hopefully that won’t be a problem. There isn’t much time to consider what to do because Uber charges in, with the power of raw talent!

I didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, because Über charged us.  I hurried to get out of his way.  Über’s power made him talented.  It didn’t matter if it was playing the harmonica, parkour stunts or Muay Thai, he could pull it off like he’d been working on it for hours a day for most of his life.  If he really focused on it, the way I understood it, he could be top notch.

Huh, that’s actually a pretty cool power! As I interpret it, it’s pretty much a parallel to Tattletale’s, just that instead of intel, Uber goes for practical application. Just that is enough to be decently impressive.

Grue is not afraid of some guy with a leotard and an antenna on his head, talent or not, he confronts him straight ahead with darkness. Uber does fall to the floor, but then he channels the power of fitness and stands up in one move. Huh. May I suggest incapacitating him, then? The less he’s able to move, the better.

Skitter manages to find a nest of wasps one minute away. That’s a problem! In one minute this fight could tip onto the foes’ side. I used to have a friend who played in this online forum game called Mercenaries, and he often told me that every time a skill made one of his fighters be a minute late or so to the battle costed him the victory many times. The Undersiders better be able to hold the fort for one minute, then!

Leet stepped in as Über circled around us.  Reaching behind his back, Leet retrieved what looked like an old school bomb; Round black iron casing with a lit fuse sticking out of it.  The way the light bounced off it made it look wrong, though. Like it was a picture of a bomb instead of a real one.

Did he make it out of pixels? That’s...far less impressive for me than Uber’s power. How did these two get together as a team, anyway?

The bomb is thrown and the Undersiders manage to run away from it with ease – well, not without Regent making Uber trip again and eat asphalt near the bomb, which makes him fly away. These two villains are outright pathetic, sheesh. It is such a bad challenge that Tattetale has the liberty to stand around and start dishing them a speech.

“I keep wondering when you guys are going to give up,” Tattletale grinned, “I mean, you fail more often than you succeed, you make more cash from your web show than you do from actual crimes, you’ve been arrested no less than three times. You’re probably going to wind up at the Birdcage the next time you flub it, aren’t you?”

Oh god. I can’t believe it. After the bank robbery, after fighting a whole team of Wards and two recognized heroes, the next fight is against two denizens of the YouTube comedy category. The difficulty curve took a sharp dive, didn’t it? Heck, Tattetale even says that the reason why people watch this is because they’re so lame it’s funny – and I can see what she means! Also, apparently the reason why they have a videogame motif is because their objective is “Spreading the word about the noble and underrated art form that is video games.“ Underrated? I don’t know, I think in this time and age videogames are anything but underrated.

The worst part here is that these two have enough potential they could be more or less respected, in my opinion. The possibility of being good at everything and someone who can invent anything, even if it’s just once. It could be a real challenge, yet here they are. Their actions so far include falling to the floor and rolling a weak bomb – bomb that Leet can’t make again, from the sounds of this, unless he invented a machine that dispenses these bombs.

Tattetale and Regent are doing an excellent job antagonizing them, Leet is getting riled up. He’s even more ashamed when Grue simply blasts him in the face with a cloud of darkness mid-speech. They have a lot of guts broadcasting their shenanigans to the Internet if this is how their escapades tend to be.

The reason why Uber is sticking with Leet is because they’re friends. There it is, the redeemable trait.

Pissing off Leet with constant taunts make him want to fight even harder, getting more bombs and throwing them, catching Skitter off-guard enough to blast her away.

The air and the fire that rolled over me wasn’t hot.  That was the most surprising thing.  That wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, but it felt more like getting punched by a really big hand than what I would have thought an explosion would feel like.  I could remember Lung’s blasts of fire, Kid Win shattering the wall with his cannon. This felt… false.

...so this is pretty much a make-believe fight. Perhaps it isn’t meant to be a real fight. Perhaps it’s a distraction, keeping the Undersiders busy for a while. I don’t like this convenient timing. The money may not even be nearby anymore. I don’t think it’s impossible that this is all organized by a certain benefactor who’s getting away with scamming the Undersiders. I mean, this is pretty much a good excuse to not give them payment. The problem here is Tattletale, as usual, I’d expect she’d get an inkling of what’s going on once she has the time to think about it all. Maybe I just have overblown expectations of her power.

It’s a good thing these aren’t real bombs! Regent made Leet trip and fall near two of his bombs, which exploded and catapulted him away. That’d have been a very embarrassing way to die. Regent is pretty much kicking these two’s collective behind. I really underestimated how good his power could be during a fight.

I was about to wonder if Uber had just sat around and watch Leet get pummeled, but then I reread and found out Grue pulled him into darkness. I suppose Uber is done for.

Skitter’s bugs arrive and are a minor nuisance, while Regent continues making Leet trip, Skitter just approaches behind Leet and starts choking him with the baton. Thaaaat pretty much seals his own fate too. This whole fight lasted...what, one minute and half? And it was a humiliation show for Uber and Leet. So that’s why people like to watch their show! Nothing like public humiliation to gather the masses.

The viewers have a first-row seat to watch the Undersiders tie up these two minor villains, now it’s matter of waiting them to wake up to find out where Heckpuppy is. I shook my head, “No.  These guys have henchmen, don’t they?  They’ve probably got them watching over the money.  We’d likely find Bitch in the same place.” Do they? I’m no internet streaming professional, but I really don’t think that’d give them enough money to be able to pay for henchmen. Maybe Leet made a few solid holographic Koopas to carry the money away. Shouldn’t be hard to track down a few bipedal turtles lugging around a bag of money.

Right after Skitter says that, a third person comes by, wearing the same Bomberman costume these two were wearing. It’s a woman with a gas mask. The special guest they were about to introduce?

“Bakuda?” Well, crap. The return of this gang happened much quicker than I thought it would! Sure, Lung isn’t around – hopefully – but I thought Bakuda and Oni Lee would do their revenge much later in the story than this! After reading a bit more it doesn’t seem like Oni Lee is around here. Instead there are a couple dozen gang members, all of them prepared to fight. Now this is great! A challenge on the level of the bank robbery chapter. Looks like the focus of this arc has been found!

“Goes without saying, I’m still with the ABB,” Bakuda stated the obvious for us.  “In charge, matter of fact.  I think it’s fitting that I commemorate my new position by dealing with the people that brought down my predecessor, don’t you agree?” Man, if only you weren’t wearing the silly Bomberman costume. That kinda takes a lot off the intimidation department. Still, Bakuda is bound to be dangerous. Without Heckpuppy around, the Undersiders lack some raw force, this is going to need quick planning to overcome. This is going to be great! And in the next chapter, I’m going straight ahead to read that!

And theeeeeen my excitement deflates like a balloon when I see the next chapter is an interlude. Welp. Oh well, I can’t complain. In technical terms, the interlude is placed properly, there’s suspense about how the fight will go, and the other interludes have been interesting. This is no big deal, it’s likely I’ll like this. This interlude is about nobody I have read about, it’s a new character. Name: Kayden. She has a baby.

The baby isn’t the only minor in this apartment. There’s a teenager watching the TV. Curiously enough, although the narration had talked about the baby as her baby, this teenager isn’t referred at any point as her boy or as her son, even though she seems to be taking care of him. The teenager – Theo, from now on – is rather distant, and knows Kayden is a cape. Yeah, Theo isn’t her son, it’s someone else’s, someone Kayden loathes.

“It’s fine,” Theo said, just a touch too fast.  It wasn’t fine, apparently, but he would never admit it.  Could never admit it.  Kayden felt a flicker of hatred for the man who had eroded every ounce of personality and assertiveness from his son.  She would give her right hand for a smart-alec remark, rolled eyes or to be ignored in favor of a TV show.

Huh. Sounds like this Theo kid’s father isn’t the kind of father most people would approve of. Given the relatively dark themes of Worm, I’m already imagining many grim scenarios. Kayden holds back her frustration and steps out, getting to the roof to pose for the reader’s benefit before jumping off to fly away, thinking of her baby to give herself strength.

Her powers...hmm...flight is here; any other powers haven’t been revealed yet. Her hair and eyes turn bright white, making it hard to look at her directly. A tactical advantage, fantastic. It sounds like she’s a hero, and so far she’s looking far more sympathetic than Glory Girl and Panacea. Great!

A year ago, she had made the ABB a priority target. Well that’s convenient, given what’s happening right now! Now I’m fully expecting Kayden to appear during the arc. If so, pretty much the only reason why this is an intermission and not a chapter more of the arc is because Taylor is not the narrator. Oh well. Potato, potahto.

Kayden’s work has lasted a year so far, and it includes surgical strikes against that gang. Sometimes it’s effective, sometimes it isn’t...one time she was injured a lot by Lung, stopping her job for a while. But now Lung isn’t here. She should have free reign, but things can’t be simply when powers are involved. It had been the best chance she’d get, she thought, to clean up the ABB once and for all. Get that scum out of her city, while they were leaderless. But there’s Bakuda. That’s the problem here, isn’t it? Bakuda is the factor that has stopped Kayden from doing her best, right?

Bakuda isn’t mentioned anywhere because it doesn’t seem Kayden is aware of her. Bakuda’s influence is noted, though. The ABB was still active.  Even with their boss gone, they were more organized than they had been under Lung’s influence. So they’re being more effective under Bakuda than under Lung. Hmmm...maybe Bakuda isn’t in any hurry to get Lung out of the special jail, who knows...

Even broken arms and legs hadn’t hurt or scared the thugs enough to get them talking about what was going on. Welp, my sympathy for Kayden was nice while it lasted. I admit it’s not entirely gone, but breaking limbs isn’t exactly the most heroic move ever. Another reason why Kayden isn’t having much success is because her network of information and alliances isn’t working well right now. Max, Theo’s father, was to blame for that.  Just as she’d left his team a more broken person than she’d been when she joined, others had gone through the same experience. Okay, so, Max is a cape too. Given that Kayden was part of his team, I suppose that means Max is a hero. Hah! Another hero with less than heroic behaviors. You’re totally doing this on purpose, Mr. Wildbow! Golly, I’m glad the Wards were introduced and shown to be decent people – so far – or else I’d think Mr. Wildbow is making heroes be bad just to make the Undersiders look better despite the Undersiders’ own bad traits and behaviors. I mean, I’m aware that it’s completely normal for a good person to have traits and moments where they don’t seem like good people, but...I don’t know, there’s something about seeing it from someone with the label of ‘hero’ that makes it stand out much more than it would otherwise. You understand?

Since the ABB was out on a big job and Kayden has no idea what’s going on, she goes to the building where Max is at. Max takes her arrival calmly, as if this was something that happened everyday. Was this something Max planned, I wonder? Pressure Kayden’s allies so she’d have no more option than go see him? It wouldn’t be a surprise if that’s what happened. “And our daughter?” Aha, so that baby is Kayden and Max’s daughter. Not a good sign. Kayden herself knows this is a veiled threat, a reminder he can take the baby away whenever he wants.

Since Kayden can’t do anything about the ABB right now, she requests to reunite the old team, to which Max replies “Not interested” Charming. The reason why nobody is helping Kayden is because they’re afraid of Max and his reaction/influence, or at least that’s what it sounds like here. Max doesn’t state he’d help, but he says that Kayden returning to his team would be good, and that he’d give her a separate team. “You’d double check with me on anything you did, but other than that, you’d be completely autonomous.  Free to use your team as you see fit.” So...so Max would pretty much have control of that other team. This is a terrible bargain.

Max’s methods are no different than a villain’s. “You do it by putting drugs on the street, stealing, extorting.  I can’t agree with that.  I never did. It doesn’t make any sense, to improve things by making them worse.” Is the Protectorate unaware of this? Looks like these weren’t heroes after all. I mean, Max does state he wants to make things better and all, but there’s no way this all can be considered by anyone as the actions of a hero. It’s possible the public as a whole considers him a villain more, and by an extent, anyone who associates with him would be a villain as well.

And then Mr. Wildbow proceeds to throw dirt on Kayden.

“Of course,” he replied, and she didn’t miss the hint of condescension in his voice, “You left my team to go do good work, it’s just pure coincidence that it’s black, brown, or yellow criminals you target.” “And in the process, you’re doing little to shake the notion that you’re a part of Empire Eighty-Eight,” Max smiled, “It’s amusing to hear you try and justify your perspective, but you’re ignoring the elephant in the room.  Cut the B.S. and tell me you don’t feel something different when you look at a black face, compared to when you look at a white one.”

Is that so? Well...my sympathy really was nice while it lasted. Look at that, it’s gone now, gone with the wind as if it was never there.

What’s more, this Max guy seems to be the leader of Empire Eighty-Eight, and he pretty much states they – including Kayden -- aren’t superheroes. Yeah, I kinda understood that many paragraphs ago, Max. Subtlety isn’t anyone’s trait, that’s for sure. Max offers to leave the whole gang to Kayden if his methods and work aren’t useful at all, and she...she’s actually considering it. She’s not even thinking about rejecting it. So much for the righteous behavior from earlier!

The deal is done. Kayden is back into the gang, her alter ego is called Purity. Max follows her example in showing off his power, he can manipulate metal and make it sprout from any solid surface around him. Interesting power. They shake hands and Mr. Wildbow calls it a day, ending the intermission there.

Well that was kind of a curveball. I didn’t think this was how the thing with Kayden would go, it sure was a twist for me. These were no heroes; my former thought was wrong on that regard. There’s no room for discussion in that these two are full-fledged villains, even if they don’t seem to be in a hurry to think of themselves like that. So that’s the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight gang...huh. The war between gangs continues.

I don’t think it’s likely anymore that Kayden or anyone will appear during the ABB’s fight with the Undersiders, but I suppose it isn’t impossible for Max to be aware of where the gang is right now and that Bakuda is commanding it. There’s a chance she’ll appear during that, so I’m not ruling it out. That aside, that fight is bound to be good to read! Unfortunately for me, the intermission managed to sap the remaining free time I had today to read, so I’ll have to leave the fight for next time.

Next update: five updates

[jonjost]

Dear Clara

I did go to Yellowstone, and to the overlook of the falls.  I took out the camera and tripod to set up and looking realized my errors.  The canyon is deep and in winter is mostly in shadow, and then in the afternoon the sun is low, and as it happens the canyon runs north-south so the sun comes dancing into the lens making refractions.  Not at all the image I had imagined, so I made a fast decision, packed up the camera, and headed back towards Butte.  Slept in the van at well below freezing in the touristy town, West Yellowstone, right at the edge of the park.  And the next day went back to Butte.

Along the way I passed Hebgen Lake which formed in 1988 after an earthquake.  Yellowstone is full of hot springs and is very active because it sits atop a vast caldera, with a huge mass of molten magma just beneath it, a mass which has moved over time from far south in north eastern Oregon, through Idaho, to its present place.  I could erupt anytime (now or in another 500,000 years) and largely destroy the vast region around it and cast a cloud of volcanic dust sufficient to bring on another ice age.  It could…

I passed then through what by American eyes are old towns from the Gold Rush of the 1880’s – scarcely a blink in European time scales.  These towns, like much in America, were born by economic bonanzas – gold and silver.  And they died as quickly once the metals had been extracted, and the land was left scarred.

Mine tailings outside of Virginia City

Butte is a large example of this American habit – to gouge the earth, leaving behind a deep wound, and in most cases a toxic new reality.  Butte is site of one of the largest “superfund” projects in the USA – the public cleaning up after the massive get-rich-quick schemes where some became super wealthy, and left, and those who were left behind were left abandoned and poisoned.   My America.

The Berkeley Pit in winter.

So long to friends – Hamer, your father, Marshall, Clark and Hal

In Butte I said good bye, most likely for a last time, to some good friends.  Shot a little too, for something that I may or may not finish, and then moved along towards Missoula.

On the way to Missoula.

My friend Swain, in earlier days.

Painting by Laurie Urfer, where I stayed in Missoula.

I went to Missoula with a heavy sense, as a dear friend, Swain Wolfe, who I’ve known since the early 70’s, had told me he was in such pain that he didn’t want to see me as having other people around made him more cantankerous.  His back, and knees and hips are crumbling, and he’s a patched together bionic man.  And in chronic deep pain.  A week before I was going to go I wrote and asked again and in an email he wrote simply : STAY AWAY.  I contact Laurie, who sort of lives with him, and asked to know more.  She said to meet her at the Butterfly Cafe there.  And I did, and behind her, walking slowly was Swain, who for some time seemed grudgingly there, and then loosened up and for more than two hours regaled me with stories.  He is a writer and a story-teller and I am happy to listen.   Afterward we went back to his place and he quickly retired to lay down, declining a stout he suggested. But I’m glad he found it in himself the willingness to see me – I tried to tell him how much it meant to me.  I left in the morning not seeing him again, nor do I think I ever will.

I went on then up a long familiar road, one of my favorites, that leads up the Lolo Grade from Missoula, and on to Lewistown Idaho.  I took it first in 1970, when with my partner Elayne and her daughter Erinn, we moved from Oregon to near Kalispell Montana.  It was on that trip that I met Swain.  Later I drove it and hitch-hiked it any number of times, recently making a short film, Stand, while camping overnight beside the Lochsa River.  If you wish, you can see that film on Vimeo:

https://vimeo.com/99425448

Pswd: DNATS VIM.

It is about 30 minutes, slow, and seemingly a single shot.   It is one of the kinds of things I have been doing the last few years.

The view to Lewistown, with the Snake River winding in the landscape

I then went to visit other friends, who had lived with us in Kalispell in 1974 or so, staying the better part of a year.  Tom and Debbie.  She is a nurse, and he is a horse-trainer.  They have a lovely “off the grid” place atop a very big hill outside of Potlatch Idaho.  Again, I doubt I will see them again.

At Tom and Debbie’s place.

From Idaho I went across a favored region, the Palouse hills in Eastern Washington, and visited a Facebook met friend who put me up two nights.  James Winchell and his wife.  Owing 100% to me – I left my van door literally wide-open over night – I was robbed of some things, a projector, a lot of DVDs, and a few other lesser things.  One of those increasingly frequent “senior moments.”

The Palouse

And then, through a snow storm, I moved along to Port Angeles, where I have stayed many times, thanks to friend Steve Taylor (who has been in five of my films).  It is rainy there in normal times, but this year it seemed more so.  I had to pack up things of Marcella’s and mine to ship to Europe once we know just where.

And it gave me time off the road for a few weeks, time to think.  And to eat well:  Steve is a fantastic cook.  Naturally I put on a nice bit of weight and am fasting now to take it off.

And while there I went to Neah Bay, the most northern and western place in mainland America.  It is an Indian reservation and like most of them, it is a sad and depressing place, where the remnants of a destroyed culture languishes in poverty and despair, with the usual afflictions – meth and alcohol, domestic violence and suicide.   I went to see it again – I have been there maybe 5 times, and took a shot looking out over the Pacific, thinking to begin the essay film, Plain Songs, there, in an episode I’d call “The End of America.”  As far west as we could go, for the most part wrecking much along the way, magically thinking there was an infinite supply of land and things to take from in our most American manner.   Neah Bay is very much as we Americans are heading.

I thought to take more pictures in this place, but found that I could not.  It seemed exploitative, and Native Americans have been exploited to death, quite literally.  And at the same time I found it needless, to replicate the brutal ugliness of America – not just the Indian reservations, but the endless strip malls, corporate big box stores, the fetishized world of automobiles, the vast tacky housing tracts, the collapsing small towns, the endless litany of America’s tragedies.   And I wondered if I should bother to make the film I had in mind which would only be lost in the crescendo of America’s shouting at itself, aimless and desperate.  And I wonder now.  It seems, quite honestly, pointless.

As you can see this journey is already taking its toll.  It is good to see my friends again, though that is tainted by the probably addendum “for a last time.”  It is good to see loved landscapes, though many have already been ravaged before my own eyes, in the short span of my life.  But this is all deadened by the social and political environment in which it is placed, and that is toxic.   I feel it, and it sours my soul.

I am sorry to be writing such a depressing letter, but it is what I see and feel.  I rather knew this journey would be like this – each day’s news here merely amplifies the realities of this land.  And all my life I have been sensitive to it, and tried to do work which in some ways addressed it.  Today it all seems for nothing.  I am sure I am far from alone in this feeling.

As I promised earlier, I will write a few “hard” letters, as I think they are owed to you.

Amo-te, Clarinha !  Take care of yourself and I hope to see you when I return to Europe.

Um grande abraço,

Teu Pai

jon

    The view from Cape Flattery at Neah Bay

  [  For other thoughts which animate these, you might also see:

https://jonjost.wordpress.com/2015/01/27/on-becoming-a-non-person-part-1/

https://jonjost.wordpress.com/2017/04/04/on-becoming-a-non-person-2/

Or the long sequence

https://jonjost.wordpress.com/category/american-pastoral/

which all deal with the background of my current thoughts. ]

Still traveling (Lettera #29) Dear Clara I did go to Yellowstone, and to the overlook of the falls.  I took out the camera and tripod to set up and looking realized my errors. 

[golfnomad]

Going Back to (Northern) Cali, Part 2: Triple Contrast

Friday of my recent Northern California trip was very interesting because it took me from the coastal region of the North Bay Area all the way out near Sacramento. I played three courses, and each one couldn’t be more different than the last. 

The day started with a visit to an old favorite...

The Links at Bodega Harbour • Bodega Bay, CA • 7/21/17

Though I am always trying to play new courses on these trips, I don’t mind revisiting some courses that are near and dear to my heart. Bodega Harbour is one of those courses. I only played here once, probably over 10 years ago. It was long before I had played so many courses (or had this blog), so it was a special treat back then to experience such a quaint and relaxed seaside golf course.

Therefore, I was eager to play it again to see how it would measure up with everything else I’ve played since then. Well, if my first experience at Bodega Harbour was great, then this one was absolutely incredible! I enjoyed it even more than before.

Part of that has to do with the weather. The first time I played here (also on a summer morning), it was cold and the course was entirely socked in by fog. I couldn’t see too far on any given hole and most ocean/bay views were quite obscured. I could still smell the salt in the air and sense the ocean nearby. There is a foghorn that is going off constantly and you can usually hear the sea lions at play on the rocks just offshore. The fog kind of added to the charm of the experience, though I wasn’t able to get many good pictures then.

This time was a complete 180 in terms of weather. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. There was some wind, which certainly added some extra challenge. It was still pretty chilly, but I warmed up quicker with the blue skies above. 

I knew there were a lot of ocean views from the course, even if I couldn’t quite see much last time. However, I didn’t realize that there is literally a great ocean and/or bay view on every single hole at Bodega Harbour. Granted, it is basically the same vista throughout as the course is built on a hillside facing northwest. Still, it is pretty gorgeous and the scenery never lets up at any point in the round.

This time, I was also able to see more of the contours of the actual course. This is quite a layout crafted by Robert Trent Jones, Jr., and the two nines have somewhat different vibes. The front nine is very dramatic with a lot of mounding and moguls throughout the fairways/rough and around the greens. There is not a flat lie to be found anywhere and it’s quite demanding.

Most of the back nine feels a bit more open and dare I say “plain” in comparison to the front. It has a similar layout in general, but there aren’t many of the crazy mounds and moguls in play.

Both nines start with an uphill stretch. The front nine is especially brutal from holes 1-4 as you work your way up steeply to the top of the hillside. Then, the 5th hole is an absolute roller coaster of a wacky par-5 as you come back down the hill. It’s kind of a triple-dogleg with some severe angles. Frankly, it’s the one hole most people don’t like here, but it sure makes you think and work for a good score.

My favorite hole on the course is the par-3 6th, which has a nice elevated tee view and a difficult green complex. It is protected by hills and bunkers. The green itself isn’t that deep and has a big shelf in the middle, so it demands an accurate tee shot to get on the right level.

Though the first half of the back nine is less interesting than the front nine, it makes up for it with a very distinctive finishing stretch of holes starting with the 16th. Holes 16 and 17 are down in wetlands area just a few hundred feet from the ocean’s edge. If you are riding in a cart, you are forced to disembark your vehicle and walk these two holes (primarily for environmental protection reasons, I believe). After you hit your tee shot on the short par-4 16th, you leave your cart and then walk across a neat wooden foot bridge. You go through tall reeds and it’s kind of a different world down there. It’s really cool, especially on a windy day where everything is swaying around you. They do have some pull carts set out there if you don’t want to carry your bag for the two holes.

The 16th is a short and fun risk/reward par-4. It is followed by the par-3 17th that has you hitting back over the wetlands hazard toward a slightly elevated green. We had about a two-club wind blowing in our faces when we reached that hole, so it definitely made things tough. You pick up your cart after you finish this hole.

Lastly, the 18th is an interesting finisher with an uphill, semi-blind tee shot (stay left!!!) and then a demanding downhill approach as it doglegs right back down into the wetlands area. It’s a unique hole and caps off a very distinctive finishing stretch. These last three holes are definitely a departure from the rest of the course at Bodega Harbour, but they are a wonderful part of the overall experience.

We were first off as a threesome with nobody pushing from behind, so we enjoyed a relaxed pace and had time to take many pictures.

The conditions were very good tee to green. The tee boxes were nice. The fairways were excellent. I really like the turf here that provides some rollout, but fluffy lies to hit from. The rough was mostly good other than some bare or gopher mound areas scattered throughout. The primary rough wasn't too much trouble, but there was plenty of the deep, deep stuff around the outer edges. Some areas were recently trimmed, so you might be able to find your ball and play it. In other areas, good luck! The greens were pretty good, with maybe some slight inconsistencies and bumps here and there. They were rolling at medium/quick speeds (natural downhill/uphill slopes are such a huge factor here). I wasn't in any bunkers, but most looked nicely maintained.

Bodega Harbour is one of California’s true hidden gems. It doesn’t get the attention it deserves because of its somewhat obscure location. Some people may only know Bodega Bay as the place where Alfred Hitchcock filmed “The Birds”—or they don’t know of it at all. It is a cool area with an awesome golf course that is typically more affordable than most any other seaside/ocean view course in California. It is absolutely a must-play if you are ever north of San Francisco.

Some pictures from The Links at Bodega Harbour (7/21/17):

I went from one of the North Bay’s must-play courses to another on Friday, while continuing the contrast theme for the day...

Northwood Golf Club • Monte Rio, CA • 7/21/17

Speaking of hidden gems, Northwood definitely qualifies in that category (especially the “hidden” part). It is well off the beaten path, but worth every effort to get there. It’s actually not that far from Bodega, so it made for a good combo to play. 

Northwood is built in the middle of a large redwood grove along the Russian River. One thing that helps it get overlooked is the fact that it is only a 9-hole course. It is regulation length, however, and it has some other special qualities. Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that is was designed by none other than Alister Mackenzie!

As a self-proclaimed “Golf Nomad” with personal ties to Northern California, and as an avid supporter of obscure short courses, I almost felt embarrassed that I hadn’t played Northwood until now. It has been eating at me for years, but there just has never been a convenient time to get out there. It’s really not on the way to my hometown of Crescent City on the far north coast, so it never fit into any previous road trips.

Since I grew up in Crescent City, where redwoods reign supreme (my backyard growing up was a redwood grove), I wondered if part of the hype of Northwood was the uniqueness of playing amidst the towering trees. I’ve played golf in and around big redwoods before (Beau Pre, Eureka, Brooktrails, Del Norte, Benbow, Baywood), so how much different could Northwood be?

I have to admit this course is better integrated into the redwoods than any other listed above. Brooktrails is actually more immersed in the trees, but it is a far inferior layout. Northwood gets the attention it deserves because it is a good layout in a spectacular setting. 

The golf course was originally built to be an extension of the Bohemian Grove club. The original plan was for a full 18-hole course, with nine more holes situated on the other side of the river. However, the Russian River is known as one of the most temperamental in the state. It tends to overflow in the winter and cause problems for the local residents (and the golf course). Building on the other side of the river proved not to be that feasible, so Mackenzie only crafted the nine hole layout you find today. 

Now, if I didn’t come into my round knowing the course had such a design pedigree, I wouldn’t have guessed it. There are a few interesting elements. Primarily the greens, which are small. Some of them are also very tricky with slopes and undulations. 

I’m not knocking the layout because it’s a solid course. It reminded me more of Mackenzie’s Sharp Park approach with a simpler “working man’s” design. He let the natural setting and scenery do the heavy lifting and didn’t go overboard with the course features. In other words, don’t come here expecting to find a 9-hole version of Pasatiempo or Cypress Point in the middle of the redwoods. 

At one point, the 9th hole at Northwood was regarded as one of the toughest par-5s in the state. It is a double-dogleg through the trees and requires several good shots to score well.

Otherwise, there are plenty of good scoring opportunities at Northwood if you keep the ball in play. The key is to not hit trees. Obviously, that is easier said than done. There are a few narrow gaps and some sharp doglegs.

The conditions were good. It was nice and green here, which looked great under the bright blue skies. The tee boxes were fine. The fairways had some weak spots here and there (lots of soft areas and some bare spots), but were mostly pretty good. The rough was more of a mixed bag, but decent enough around greens and in areas that mattered. I wasn't in any bunkers, but they appeared pretty nice (there aren't really too many here). The greens were in good shape, firmer than you might expect and rolling well at medium/fast speeds.

Pace of play was the only negative for me, as it took 2.5 hours to complete the round. I got out right away, but there was a lot of waiting on every shot. The picture-perfect weather brought everyone out in droves and this is just a popular course. It attracts tourists in town who are primarily there for the local arts scene. It attracts traveling golfers like me who want to see what all the hype is about. It attracts locals, who play here just about every day. My price was $35 with a cart, though this would normally be a great course to walk.

I would consider Northwood another must-play and a definite hidden gem in Northern California. Even if you can’t take a 9-hole course seriously, you won’t be disappointed in the setting and you can say you played a Mackenzie course that not everyone knows about.

Some pictures from Northwood Golf Club (7/21/17):

I had hopes of playing Bennett Valley GC in Santa Rosa before heading east, but they had a tournament going on. Instead, I decided to try and beat the worst part of the North Bay Area traffic. It was still a long drive with plenty of traffic, but I made it into Woodland with plenty of daylight to spare, so I tried to squeeze in one more...

Wild Wings Golf Club • Woodland, CA • 7/21/17

This was a geographically convenient option, plus I had heard some decent things about this place. Like Northwood, it is a 9-hole regulation layout. However, it is unlike Northwood in just about any other way.

It’s a solid layout, but the open farmland of this area was a stark contrast to the ocean views of Bodega and the majestic redwoods of Northwood. On this day, Wild Wings did not stand much of a chance to win me over.

I arrived a little after 6:00 and the place was pretty deserted. It was just under 100 degrees at the time and quite stuffy out as there is not much shade out here. I paid my $15 green fee and was hoping to rent a cart for expediency, but the kid in the pro shop told me they weren’t letting them out that late in the day. I told him I would be done super fast, but he was a young teenager. He clearly just wanted to avoid any extra work and close up the shop as soon as possible.

So, I had to walk in the heat at the end of a long day. I survived, but it sure sucked. The sad thing is that when I was teeing up on the 9th hole, I saw that pro shop kid just leaving the parking lot. I also noticed a different guy working the cart barn and still cleaning up carts for the night. I would have been done even quicker with a cart and wouldn’t have hindered their lazy plans in the least. Oh well, it is what it is.

Wild Wings plays to a standard par of 36 and has pretty average distances for holes. From the blue tees, it would total over 6,300 yard for an 18-hole round. Some 9-hole courses will have different tee boxes set up for front and back nine play. That is not the case at Wild Wings. However, they do the more unusual thing of having two holes/flags on every green. I’ve only seen this a couple times and I’m not really a fan. The saving grace here is that the greens are quite large and the two holes don’t ever really infringe upon one another.

Otherwise, Wild Wings features a solid layout. It’s pretty straightforward with a few hazards in play. The routing is kind of spread out after the first few holes. You go back into the residential community and there are some long drives (I mean walks) in between several of the holes. It’s a good, average course design that feels like many other courses scattered throughout the Sacramento area and down in the Central Valley. 

Conditions were also pretty decent. The tee boxes were fine. The fairways had good coverage. Plenty of roll-out and mostly good lies to hit from. The rough was a little spottier, but mostly fine. I wasn't in any bunkers. The greens were receptive and rolling at medium speeds. A bit bumpy late in the day showing footprints and lots of ball marks.

For what it is, Wild Wings serves its purpose just fine. The service left a little something to be desired at that time of day, but it was another one in the books for me and that’s what matters most!

Some pictures from Wild Wings Golf Club (7/21/17):

[kktravelblog]

england: april 2018

I finally reached my breaking point of sitting at a desk this past April. I always knew it wasn’t for me, but thought I’d give it a valiant effort. I mean after all, it is what everyone else was doing. After months of contemplating what’s next, I decided to quit my desk job while still giving a somewhat traditional path a try and found a nanny position in Hoboken. And the best part of changing jobs is having the opportunity to have a free week of vacation time built in. If you don’t do this, you’re honestly missing out. 

I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. Typically, I use every vacation opportunity to go somewhere exotic with beaches, diving, mountains and hiking, but because summer was right around the corner, I decided to go to cloudy England, which would be only the second time I’ve visited Europe. This always comes as a shock to people, but it just hasn’t happened yet. However, this time around, England was almost too easy to pass up because my two good friends from Australia, Anna and Katie, already lived there and I had free places to stay. So within less than a week, I had a trip planned and was on my way. 

This was my first solo traveling experience, which I really want to do one day (stay tuned AGAIN). I had gone to Australia alone, but I view that as a completely different category of travel. I looked it as a real small baby jump though, since I would technically have two friends awaiting my arrival in each city I was to visit. And they speak english. But it was still a step in the right direction.

I arrived in London, found wifi to alert Katie, then started my journey to her flat just outside of center city London. Once I got off the tube and made my way outside, I found Katie waiting for me. And no joke, the second I stepped outside, I felt like I was in Harry Potter. To all of you that don’t know, I am a huge fan of Harry Potter. To me, it has always been a mysterious place created in my brain while reading the books and later by Hollywood. So to see the country it was created around was surreal. I probably mentioned “that looks just like Harry Potter” more times than I can physically count. But it still blows my mind. *American fangirl* 

Katie’s flat was only one stop outside the center city of London, making it extremely convenient and a great place to be. After a quick pitstop to refresh after the long flight, we headed into the city to meet up with her boyfriend and to have lunch at this cool indoor food truck market/explore a bit on her lunch break. I was quickly informed on this mini tour just how many buildings were older than the United States of America, which is pretty nuts to think about. I never cared for history, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around that fact. Katie and her boyfriend both had to head back to work, so I was left to explore the city on my own which resulted in me walking over 15 miles. I saw a lot, including Big Ben (although under construction), the London Eye, the bridge that collapses in Harry Potter, the London Bridge (from the famous song), and more. Somehow, in a square mile city though, I somehow managed to completely miss Buckingham Palace. Not sure how and the only way I realized is when I later complained that I didn’t get to see the men in the red suits and Katie and her flatmates were flabbergasted and made me show pictures of where I was.   

While exploring the city was great, my most memorable day in London, to no surprise, was my solo trip to Warner Bros. Harry Potter Studio. IT WAS BLOODY BRILLIANT. I know you get it, I am a huge fan, but I just cannot help myself. Magic is so cool. I spent over three hours there, winding through the sets and reading everything available. I was incredibly shameless, to the point that not only did I have strangers take my picture throughout, but I also mounted a broomstick in front of a green screen just so I could get a video of me flying through Harry Potter scenes. Some call it desperate, but it’s really commitment. Don’t worry the short clip is public, but I have the full version waiting for your viewing if you choose to want to see it. Warning, it’s two minutes long. I also don’t think its fair if I leave out that the majority of the other people there were either couples or families. I was the only single person, who got ID’d for age. ID’d at the Harry Potter studios. But honestly, there is no shame in this game. 

The next day I headed back into the city to see Buckingham Palace. Not making that effort would have been embarrassing. It’s like completely missing the Empire State Building. It honestly was worth it to see too. It puts the White House to shame, that’s for sure. After that, I spent the rest of the day wandering and then met up with Katie for dinner. We had an early night as I had planned to set off to Birmingham early the next day, with a stop to see Stonehenge and Bath on the way. 

Stonehenge was really cool. I’ll be honest. I skipped the museum part due to timing (and lack of interest), so I honestly cannot tell you much about it. But I can tell you the rocks were really cool and my timing with the weather was impeccable. The entire drive to Stonehenge, plus the short bus ride from the parking lot, it was downpouring. But I swear, as soon as I stepped off the bus, the clouds parted and the sun came out. Luck was on my side. I’ll get to why in a second.

Next up was Bath. Bath is a really unique city and I definitely recommend stopping by if you have the time when you’re in England. It’s known for its natural hot springs, Bath Abbey and Roman-era Baths as well as the architecture. The architecture is traditional and old-fashioned, however the overall vibe of the city and the stores within are new and modernized. I could totally see myself living here. Check it out, and let me know what you think. 

And finally, I made it to Birmingham, where Anna and I quickly headed to the local food truck markets to eat and catch up. Anna (she’s American) had been my closest friend in my Australian adventure and recently moved there with her Australian boyfriend. Dreams do come true. 

This is where traveling gets cool. While in England, I had the opportunity to go visit Richard and Helen Combe at their countryside English home. Turns out, luckily, they live right outside Birmingham. If you don’t recall, I met Richard on the top of Rob Roy Glacier in New Zealand in 2015. It was a series of weird coincidences that brought us together, but showed me just how grateful I am for how the world works and the people it brings into your life. Richard had lost his son, Stephen, in a helicopter crash a week prior to us meeting. We only spoke for a short time that day, but it was an incredibly impactful conversation. After tracking him down, I was able to reach out and maintain a friendship with him and his wife Helen throughout the years. It was really cool to hear their side of the same story and how many similarities there were, most notably, that we were meant to find each other for a good reason. Spending the day with them in England will forever be one of my most memorable traveling days, of course, after the day I met them. They welcomed me into their home as one of their own and showed me a glimpse into their lives, including meeting their daughter and Helen’s mother. They also told me tons of stories, showed me around their town, took me on a short walk to a part of the city where you could see Wales in the distance, and updated me on their lives, while also being incredibly interested in mine. I will forever hold that day incredibly close to my heart. 

I should also mention, I am not spiritual in any way. I believe in a lot of cliches like things always work out, when there’s a will there’s a way, etc. but I am not spiritual by any means. Except I do believe their son Stephen played a huge impact on how seamlessly my trip worked out. From the plans, to the odd weather occurrences, to how close they lived to the only other city I was visiting to… did i mention the car company randomly upgraded me from some random car to a Mercedes A class (still don’t know what it means, but know that is definitely an upgrade) for free? All of those things had to of had some help. It doesn’t make sense otherwise. But it was these moments that really reminded me of how special my friendship with Richard and Helen is. And what it reminds me of life. I always say the punchline of every joke, story, moment will always come, but sometimes not right away. And this one proved it by coming three years later. 

Ok back on track now… Sometimes I need to include things for you guys, but also for my own personal memory. 

After my visit with Helen and Richard, I headed back to Birmingham to meet Anna. We would later go to dinner at the local pub, and embarrassingly mess up trivia questions based on America. I spent the next day literally laying in bed, watching Netflix, letting my body relax from jet lag and waiting for Anna to get out of work so we could head back to London to hang with Katie. 

My last day was super special in terms of friendships. It was really great to hang with Katie and Anna together again and honestly felt like no time had passed by since we had last been together in Brisbane. We spent the day exploring London and different markets, walking the waterway and eating good lunch (my fav meal). And of course, Kings Cross and platform 9 3/4. That night, Anna and I were left to pick a restaurant on our own. And in true American fashion ended up unknowingly picking a chain. It was still good. Heck, I’d go back. Later, we met a few of Anna’s friends at this really cool bar that legitimately had a tree in it (that Lexi also recommended. If she ever reads this blog, I needed to make sure she got her call out) and then would later go to a London club. Did you know London clubs close at midnight? No? Me neither. It’s weird to me. But we ended the night the right way, by eating pizza and face-timing both B and Eric. No better way to end the trip than all back together. If not physically, but technologically.

The next morning, I woke up at 4 am and made the trek back to the states, through Dublin, where I was able to try a Guinness at 7 am their time. I couldn’t tell you what time my body was on. However, I refuse to count that as real. I will go to Ireland for it. Again, I can’t say it enough, this trip was special in so many ways. I know it’s getting cliche. Not only with Richard and Helen, but also it was really cool to see two of my closest friends from Australia in a different country and spend the day like no time had passed. I really look forward to when we can all cross paths again. But Anna, to be honest, it’s your turn to come to the city. Katie already did. And B and Eric, you too. 

And now I was off to live a semi-traditional life of being a nanny in Hoboken at 27 years old. 

[rollingtsuchinoko]

Absolutely spot on. Whoever came up with that proverb was indeed a wise man. I don’t know why I got it into my head to climb Mt. Fuji. I’m not a mountain climber. I don’t even enjoy hiking all that much. But for some reason, I thought hauling my carcass up all 3,776 meters was a brilliant idea. I blame it on it being my first year in Japan, and to be honest, at the time I thought it would be my only year in Japan. If I only had one year, I was going to see and do as much as I could anytime I had time off. So I did it. Looking back, I’m glad I did it. But I will never do it again. Once is more than enough.

The day began at dawn. I had to be at Shinjuku by 7:30 am to catch the bus. That meant leaving my place in Katsutadai, a commuter town halfway between Chiba and Tokyo, at around 6. I don’t enjoy the morning. No, let me rephrase that. I hate the morning. I have never been a morning person. Not even four years in the army changed that. I managed to make it to the bus station, checked in, hopped on the bus and crashed out for a few hours, fully knowing I would need all the energy I could muster that day.

The bus arrived at the 5th station of Mt Fuji around 10:30. Even in the heat of August, the temperature at the 5th station, which is at 2300 meters, was quite a bit cooler than in Tokyo. As you can see in the picture below, the weather looked fine, but the weather can change quickly and drastically on Fuji. The sun was out, but clouds were moving in. I had read that it was a good idea to bring rain gear. For once in my life, I actually heeded some advice and bought a cheap raincoat. I made the right decision as I would find out later. The group I was with fueled up on some ramen in the lodge, bought some expensive (or so I thought at the time) water. I discovered later, as you gain elevation, so does the price of water. Nothing like having captive customers. All of our preparations complete, our guide gathered us up to give final instructions and off we went.

Mt Fuji from the Subaru Line, 5th station. It doesn’t look that steep. Looks are deceiving.

The hike to the trailhead took about 45 minutes. The plan was to hike from the 5th station to the mountain hut on the 8th station. Three stations, how bad could that be? Eight hours later I would know how bad it could be. One certainly doesn’t need to be a professional climber to scale Mt Fuji. Anyone can do it. You don’t even need any special equipment. A decent pair of boots, some warm clothes, a hat, and raingear should be enough to get you to the top. I think the secret to climbing Mt Fuji is patience and the willingness to walk and walk and walk.

Pain begins here. It’s in the small Japanese print somewhere.

The key to climbing Fuji is to take your time. The grade gets pretty steep in some parts and the air does get thin. Many sporting goods stores set up a Mt Fuji climbing section in the summer. The displays have all kinds of gear, most of it unnecessary, but why waste a good marketing opportunity? One of the items for sale is canned oxygen. I thought about purchasing a can, but decided against it. I’m not climbing bloody Everest. In the end, I wouldn’t need it, but I did stop and take a few breaks here and there. If you are completely out of shape, I recommend getting in some kind of cardio training a few months before you attempt the climb. Again, I think anyone can make the climb, but certain parts of the mountain are taxing.

  Would have been a great picture if I knew how to frame things.

  I don’t remember too much about the middle part of the climb, just lots of walking. There were a few sections where my short legs had some trouble scrambling up the jagged rocks. The sunny weather had taken a decided turn for the worse. When the inevitable rain started to fall the rocks became a bit slick. The rain was just a steady drizzle, but it was just enough to put a nice sheen on the rocks and muddy up the trail. Muddy boots and slippery jagged rocks are a great combination to turn a little hike into a medevac and trip to the emergency room. The wind had picked up a little too. The mixture of wind and rain colluded to drop the temperature into the slightly uncomfortable category. I hate cold weather. Anything under 15°C (60°F) is cold in my book. Go ahead, call me soft but I’ve had more than my fair share of -30°C (-30°F, it’s the same, too damn, cold) days back in Montana and winter field exercises in Korea. I detest being cold. Our group got lucky though. The rain only lasted about an hour and the wind died down. The rest of the day would be quite pleasant up to the mountain hut where we would eat and get some sleep before the last assault on the summit.

The mountain hut where we “slept.”

Did I mention sleeping in the mountain hut? Sleeping in the mountain hut. Haha, go ahead, pull the other one, there is no sleeping in the mountain hut. At best, you might get a few minutes of sleep before someone moves, breathes, or blinks. The minuscule plywood shelf allocated to seven people had enough room for five, at most, maybe. We were crammed in there like salarymen in a Tokyo rush hour train. All we needed to make the comparison 100% accurate was the dude with the white gloves cramming in a few more unfortunate souls. I had just met these people about 12 hours earlier and now I was in more intimate contact with some of them than a few former girlfriends. Hmm, maybe the reason they are former. Anyway, the cramped quarters weren’t the only reason it was difficult to sleep. For one, it was damn cold. We had some blankets and shared body warmth, but they were no match for the wind that was whistling through the gaps in the walls. I don’t know what the temperature was, but it must have been close to freezing by then. It’s the middle of August and I’m freezing my ass off on the side of a mountain. What the hell am I doing? I’m hiking and freezing. Have I mentioned that I am a terrible decision maker? The other reason I can’t sleep is, for some reason, all the lights in the hut are on and people are talking, and not quietly. Damn it, go to sleep people. We have to be up in a couple of hours to start climbing again. If hiking Mt Fuji is supposed to bring you some kind of Zen wisdom and peace, I fail to see it. Maybe the wisdom is, don’t climb Mt Fuji. Yeah, where was all that wisdom 8 hours ago when I could have used it.

I managed to get a catnap in. It wasn’t enough. Groggily I jam by contacts back into my eyes, go out to use the frigid outhouse, eat breakfast, a small bento of eggs and potatoes, and start climbing again. It was pitch dark outside, I think it was around 2 am if I remember correctly. The trail was well lit though. I had bought a headlamp, another piece of advice heeded, for the early morning climb to the top of the mountain. Add my light to the thousands of others that were on the mountain at that time and it was like midday. Well, maybe I exaggerate, but I couldn’t believe the number of people that were making the ascent at this time. Where did all these people come from? On the previous day, there had been groups of people here and there, but it was complete gridlock now. There were times when we didn’t move for maybe 5 or 10 minutes. Honestly, there were times when we were five-wide on a very narrow trail that was suitable for two or three people. If you were the unlucky person on the outside, you were looking down a very steep cliff. It was a bit harrowing at times.

A wider path, but a good view of the grade.

People would get impatient and try to push their way through. There were a few moments of pushing and shoving. Everyone wanted to get to the top before sunrise, so it was getting a bit frantic. This was the hardest part of the climb. Along with the crowds, the path was not the even volcanic rock trail it had been for most of the time, but it was now steep jagged rocks. At times you needed to grab chains and pull yourself up. The crowded conditions added a degree of difficulty that I didn’t appreciate. If you slipped here, the result could be a nasty fall and a possible gruesome injury. I understood why some people were wearing helmets now. The crowd made some of the climbing very awkward. I would get one leg up and find myself really stretching for a toehold and then someone would bump into me. Keeping my balance and my temper in check was proving to be quite difficult. It was at this point I saw something that blew my mind. Here I was struggling to make headway on the rocks and amongst the crowd when this dude came flying by me and everybody else. He was practically running up the mountain, weaving through people like a Bangkok taxi driver at weaves through Sukhumvit traffic at shift change. The most amazing part was, the dude was not wearing any shoes. He was flying up the mountain barefoot. What the hell? Mt Fuji is a volcano. The rocks and trail are made of volcanic rock. Sharp, jagged, pointy volcanic rock. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Altitude sickness perhaps.

At the rate I was progressing, I was starting to worry that I would not reach the summit in time for the sunrise. The whole point of this trip is to get to the top and see the sun come up. Vexed would be a good word to describe my mood if that happened. Extremely vexed. A few near slips and falls, elbows to the ribs and walking sticks to the feet and legs later, don’t get in the way of a determined obasan is all I can say, I was nearing the top.  The pace was starting to pick up as more and more people reached the summit and it appeared that I would make it to the top before the sun greeted a new day.

I made it, but what came next surprised me, and not in a good way. I had made it to the top after all those hours of walking and I thought OK, let’s sit down and enjoy this for a few minutes. Nope. Our guide had other ideas. He led us on a 45-minute walk around the crater. C’mon man, we’re here already. Sit your ass down. So on and on we trudged, walking past all the smart people sitting down on their space blankets in preparation for the sunrise. I kept on looking to my left, making sure the sun was not about to break over the horizon. I don’t know why, but I was obsessed with seeing that damn sunrise. I was in the army, I’ve seen sunrises from the Sahara and Arabian Deserts, Korea, and exotic Hinesville, Georgia, but for some reason, I HAD to see THIS sunrise. The only positive of this extra walk was the terrain was mostly flat. My legs were pleased. Until I turned a corner and saw what lay ahead.

Ah, C’mon man. Really? In order to say we made it to the top of the mountain, there was still a bit of climbing to do. I resigned myself to the inevitable and put one foot in front of the other. The grade was steep and the footing was not sure. The trail was made up of pretty deep volcanic rock. Every couple of steps of progress were erased by backsliding. Frustrating to say the least. Fortunately, there was a guide rail on the edge of the trail. I inched my way up the last bit of trail, all the while keeping an eye on the sun. It was going to be a photo finish. I put some pep in my step and got to the top just in time. Was it worth it? Meh. It was a bit cloudy, so the sun was obscured. All that anxiety for nothing.

Finally, there was no more mountain to climb. I had made it to the highest point in Japan. I suppose I felt a sense of accomplishment but mostly I felt relief at the thought that I didn’t have any more mountain to climb. We walked around the circumference of the crater and made our way to the restaurants and gift shops. Even on top of a mountain, there are tourist traps. Isn’t capitalism amazing? I got a cup of coffee and enjoyed watching the sun come up. I went over to the booth to get my walking stick branded with the 3776 stamp and prepared to make the descent. I thought going up was hard. Going down was much much worse.

The highest point in Japan

The sunrise cast a perfect shadow of Mt Fuji on the valley below.

How can that be? Shouldn’t going down a mountain be easier than going up? I mean isn’t falling down easier than falling up? Normally yes, but this was not a normal circumstance. The switchback trail that takes you down Fuji consists of deep gravel made of volcanic rock. My feet just sunk into the stuff. The grade is quite steep and if you are not careful, you will be taking the ass over teakettle express down the mountain. The deep gravel does quite a number on the quads and calves. I was sore for a few days after the hike and I attribute all of it to the descent. To make matters worse, the gravel kicks up a lot of dust. Multiply your feet with hundreds of others, and it becomes a veritable dust storm. The dust can make it difficult to breathe and it gets in your eyes and everywhere else you don’t want volcanic dust. Unless you bring a scarf or towel, you will suck in a lot of dust. It makes for a great souvenir when hacked up in the shower later. Along with the dust, the sun decided to come out. The back of my neck got absolutely fried. It took almost four hours to get down and back to the 5th station. Exhausted would be an understatement. Delirious better described my state of mind at that time. But I had made it. I’m glad I did it, but never again.

Hmm, did I say never? I have never been accused of being wise. However, I try not to make the same mistakes again. If I were to take on this foolish task again, I would do it earlier in the summer when the crowds are smaller. I made the mistake of climbing over the Obon holiday. Lesson learned. Do not climb Fuji during Obon. Holidays in Japan mean crowds. Even for something as stupid as climbing a mountain brings out the hordes. Would I recommend climbing Mt Fuji? Sure. If you have a couple of days to spare if on holiday here, go for it. It is memorable. Whether it is a painful memory or a great memory hinges on your pain threshold I believe.

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“A wise man climbs Mt. Fuji once, only a fool climbs it twice.” 一度も登らぬ馬鹿、二度登る馬鹿 Absolutely spot on. Whoever came up with that proverb was indeed a wise man. I don't know why I got it into my head to climb Mt.