#Sean Felt Oakes

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[Image: A meaningful (to me) gold ring with a textured surface sits on wet grey stone glinting in sunlight and the reflection of green trees and sky]

* * * *

Riddles in the Dark One of the simplest ways to define the Buddhist concept of “emptiness” (suññatā) is that a thing is “empty of what isn’t there.” We’re looking at what is absent in a thing that we have been assuming is present. What could that be? My kid and I have been listening to The Hobbit together, and of course the riddles are one of the best parts. Riddling, the book tells us, is an ancient sport, and even dreadfully evil (read: traumatized) people like Gollum respect its rules. Begging forgiveness of master Tolkien (and master Baggins) here’s a riddle: Absent though you think I’m here In all things you hold most dear Nowhere will you find me tied To the shape your eyes have spied What am I? Philosophically, we say that the thing that is absent is “essence,” or “substance,” both of which refer to a hypothetical permanent defining attribute of a thing that persists through any change that happens to the physical object we call the thing. But essence is an idea, nothing more. It is the “soul” of a thing, which we may have an intuition about, but no actual evidence for. All the evidence suggests that physical forms, as well as the ideas and names that describe them, all change. So I think the simplest way to answer the riddle is “meaning.” What is the soul, or the essence of a thing, if not a way of saying that it has a fundamental meaning? The meaning a thing holds is a concept that defines a thing in as deep a way as we are able. So a simple way to think about emptiness is to recognize that any meaning we give to a thing (object, entity, experience, concept, intuition, place, culture) is contingent—contextual, dependent on time, place, and relationship. Another way of saying that is that in the absence of telling a story about a thing, that thing has no intrinsic meaning. The meaning is in the telling and hearing, not in the thing itself. (There is no “thing itself.”) The usual mistake in understanding emptiness is taking this to mean that things do not “exist,” in any way other than as illusion. But that’s just a conceptual trap. “Exist” and “doesn’t exist” are just more layers of story and meaning—and the Buddha explicitly rejected them as irrelevant concepts. The meaning bound up in these words is that something that doesn’t exist doesn’t matter, and that’s terrifying. Our lives don’t matter? Good and evil in the world don’t matter? That doesn’t feel right—because it isn’t. Existence is a philosophical conversation called ontology. What matters is a different conversation, and it’s the more important: ethics. Things are empty of intrinsic meaning. Any story we tell about a thing is thus more about us than the thing. In the Theravāda system, this is the first insight that leads to liberation from suffering, called nāma-rūpa, or “name and form.” It is the recognition that the name of a thing, which is the closest we can come up with to identifying its fundamental identity, or meaning, is not the same as the physical thing it points to. The label rides alongside the thing like the answer to a riddle. The riddle is the strange poem of direct experience, which is oblique, poetic, always leaping the bounds of whatever concept we try to bind it in. The answer is a name, which seems final, but which ends the game. Which is more ecstatic, more resonant with mystery, the riddle— Alive without breath, As cold as death Ever thirsty, never drinking, Clad in mail, never clinking —or the answer, stolid as a full stop: fish? The riddle sings. The answer thuds. It’s always like this. Emptiness recognizes that the answer to the riddle of experience never sufficiently sings the meaning of the thing. There is no soul in a person because no single concept can do justice to the wild mystery of a life. For a map to depict in perfection every detail of a landscape, it would have to be an identical replica of the place, and just as large. No concept is that capacious. So the thing is empty of the meaning we think it has—the name that defines it. Emptiness, philosophically, turns out to be a word problem. A riddle. It points to a mistake we keep making… until we don’t. When we recover from the illusion that things are what we call them, an incredible spaciousness opens up around us. Suffering is basically emotional, the Buddha tells us, as we react to the stories unfolding around us. Freedom is a word for when our emotions are unbound from story, and set free to respond more intimately to life as it unfolds. The real riddle of practice, then, is how things continue to matter even as they are set free. The answer to that defines the enlightened activity the tradition came to call bodhisattva. ___

[Thank you Sean Feit Oakes]

[annabawritersdream]

My Long Lost Love

Sean Bean as Boromir

Julia Ormond as Thalindriel (Elf-OC)

The Captain of Gondor suddenly came to a halt as he heard a faint noise in the distance. He blinked repeatedly as his vision adjusted to the outdoors and hid behind a nearby tree, slowly unsheathing his dagger. For the first time since he had left his home for Rivendell, he took full notice of his surroundings. Two weeks had passed since he had entered the Valley of Imladris and, unlike so many others, he had not been able to appreciate the nature around him, his mind occupied by gloomy thoughts concerning the safety of the White City and that of its people. It was there that he longed to return, it was there that he wished to be. He wished to be with his father, he wished to fight alongside his countrymen. He wished to fight alongside his little brother who, now more than anything, was in need of his help and comfort.

Two weeks had passed since he had stepped into a realm concealed to those whom the One had doomed to die and for fourteen days he had suffered, his heart blind to the unwavering beauty of what had been and still was a sanctuary for weary travelers. He was now noticing all the details of the forest in which he had almost inexplicably found himself, his brain fully alert. His fingers were tightly wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, his muscles tensed as he prepared to attack. Though he was fairly confident no harm would come to him, he still did not trust the Elves. His heartbeat quickened, his breathing becoming labored as a feeling of intense anxiety grew within him. That mysterious noise had reached his ears once more and he could now hear it more clearly. It was a whistle. Someone was whistling and he was unable to see their face. He gulped as he remained still, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.

And then he saw her. A tall woman was coming his way, her long dark hair styled in a tousled braid which caressed her back. She was holding a rack in one hand and some sheets in the other. Boromir lowered his weapon as he curiously watched the scene unfolding before his eyes. Who was that woman? What was her purpose? Was she a friend of Lord Elrond's? A daughter of his perhaps? Was she even an elf?

She walked calmly and Boromir resisted the temptation to look away. He knew it was not polite to stare at ladies, yet there was something in her ways which he found surprising and utterly fascinating. Her whistling soon turned into humming and her humming soon turned into a tune. Boromir did not know the language she was singing in but the marvel of her voice could not be denied. He felt as if he had strayed into a dream, the worries which had plagued his mind and tormented his spirit abruptly washed away. Minas Tirith, Gondor, his people, the One Ring...it all seemed irrelevant. Unable to take his eyes off her, he watched as stopped in front of a giant oak tree. She looked up and he followed her gaze until he noticed a small house, the branches of the tree serving as its main foundation. He scratched his beard pensively. Did she truly live in a tree house? Was it common among the people of Rivendell? Faramir would have known. He had developed a fascination for the Eldar early in his childhood and had read extensively about their customs. Boromir did not recall him ever mentioning tree-houses though. He frowned and sighed. She had placed the sheets into a basket fastened to a rope and then patiently removed a few dead leaves around the base of three with her rack.

Boromir stepped forward and the woman turned. He offered a polite smile as he noticed her pointy ears. She was indeed an elf.

"My lady? Are you well?"

The eyes of the Elf-maid were wide and Boromir was surprised to see how different they looked compared to those of the other Elves he had met until that very moment. While the eyes of other Elves were cold and gray, hers had a warmth to them and were as brown as the good, tilled earth.

He cleared his throat as he awaited an answer and lowered his gaze as he received none. She stared at him in fear, her hands clenching the rack.

“There is no need for you to be afraid. I will not hurt you," he said, hoping to sound convincing. "I only wondered..."

Her gaze shifted to his hands and Boromir realized she was actually looking at his dagger.

Forgive me. With your permission, I will put it away. As I said, there is no need to be scared."

The Elf-maid remained silent and Boromir ended up staring at the tip of his boots in embarrassment.

"Do you...understand me? Do you speak my language?

He took another step forward but, before he realized it, he fell to the ground, his head bulging. Something heavy had hit him and the Captain of Gondor whimpered as he very slowly opened his eyes again. The Elf-maid was still holding the rack and Boromir quickly figured she had used it as a weapon.

"Why did you..."

The Elf-maiden dropped the rack, her and eyes even wider than before. She quickly climbed the tree using the rope attached to the basket and pulled it up, disappearing into the tree-house. Still sore and confused, Boromir sat up and buried his face in his hands.

He wanted to see her again. He needed to apologize. He would wait for her. He had time. She had enchanted him and he knew in his heart that there was no going back.

So...I made this edit today and I immediately started writing this. Thalindriel (unnamed in this snippet) is Boromir and Erien's mom, Enna's cousins. They will appear in The Lady of Ithilien and Long Lost Love (I'd love to translate the title into Sindarin) is basically a spin-off telling the story of how their parents met. I honestly giggled so hard at idea of her hitting him with a rack so I kind of ran with it. Also, she didn't answer him because she doesn't speak Westron. And the tree-house is her safe place away from everyone. She's nice but very anti-social and shy. I suppose she just loves being on her own.

I hope you enjoyed this little snippet!

I'll post the full chapter (I think it will be the first) on AO3 when it's fully done (in a long, long while).

@tolkienocweek (tagging you because you said I could)

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #37:

Michael Penn's March

Here's another story. Again, mostly true.

In 8th grade I got a bad case of Chicken Oak.

Never heard of Chicken Oak? It's what you get when you are a pimply, insecure and pale skinned 8th grader who is forever crazy about a girl named Anjanette and you get a bad case of poison oak from fooling around outside your grandparents' ranch house in the San Gabriel mountains, a case so bad you have to miss school and spend your days instead slathering your pubescent 90 pound body with oatmeal-type concoctions which do not help and you can't sleep for days at a time and are starting to climb out your bedroom window at 2am and wander around your neighborhood while listening to your poorly-dubbed-from-the-library copy of The Cure's Disintegration on your primitive walkman and so your parents, concerned about your illness and Robert Smith's whole vibe, take you to Urgent Care and have you shot up with steroids to utterly silence your raging immune system but, little did you or anyone else know, your younger siblings were all just exposed to the Chicken Pox and you were born in the 70's, long before there was a vaccine, and you've never had that ridiculous childhood disease, so a few days later you've added a disabled immune system's mammoth version of the pox to the oak and you're no longer a pimply and insecure 8th grader; rather you are the elephant man in a full blown teenage health crisis: one eye is literally swollen over into a giant pulsating wound and every inch of you is leaning into shivering panic.

That's the Chicken Oak, folks: a formative illness indeed.

It takes a month of living in the late 80's with the condition to discover that at 2am some vampire takes over control of MTV, removes the Fine Young Cannibals from the rotation and plays obscure stuff instead, the kind of music you'll never encounter on the Top 20 Countdown with this guy.

And that's how you discover Michael Penn.

I loved this song from the first moment I saw the video, and I spent the rest of my sleepless month with the poison poxs trying to catch it on air again.

Part of the attraction was its illusive (at least to 14 year old me) lyrics. Penn struck me as a sensitive and bashful poet with a record contract who was terribly alluring to all thoughtful ladies; but he also read deep books and sang passionately about both topics - he basically embodied my ideal future.

I knew about Romeo in a basic sense: he was one of Shakespeare's teenagers and he surely gave some big deal speeches in a play I'd never seen nor read; he was the kinda guy who climbed his lady friends' balconies and died tragically for love, just like I too might one day die for the love of sweet Anjanette, except I'd probably never see her again because I was surely disfigured for life and therefore would soon be forced to relocate to a cave in Brazil where I'd live under an assumed name and terrify children from the village.

But who the hell was Heathcliff? Judging by the video and the song's overall sweet vibe I felt pretty sure this way cooler brother to Sean wasn't singing about the Garfield rip off.

I wanted to track Michael Penn down and claim him as my new and now surely, after my month of isolation, only friend: what books should I read, Michael? How do you make your hair look so cool? Why doesn't my six string sound like yours? And is that a drum machine playing in your song? Are drum machines even ethical, Michael? Should I get black jeans? If so, where? Help me, Michael!

Before my month of misery was up I weaseled my anxious mother into going to Sam Goody without me and buying me March, Penn's debut album, on tape. Then I played it nonstop.

The whole record sounded homemade and majestic, a fitting soundtrack addition alongside the aforementioned Disintergration and Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars for the day long bikes rides I began to take as my entire face crusted over and started to harden up, like a rotten egg regrowing its shell.

Every song seemed like an entire world on its own, the melancholic yet catchy choruses waking up bits of what would become my future self. I knew what it was like to sleep on a bed of nails;

I too wanted a place in the brave new world.

I began to heal as Spring drew to a close: the sores became scabs; I was hideous and doomed, but no longer a literal danger to others. I watched midnight MTV out of habit, not necessity, and No Myth fell out of the 2am rotation.

I pictured my return to school with dread: my friends would have moved on; they were nice guys so they'd pretend to welcome me back, but I'd slip away, leaving them relieved: the disfigured can claim no place in a middle school. And so I planned to make my way to the far end of the school's middle level at breaks, the spot on campus where the deepest misfits and poor special ed kids gravitated so as to rock in place, weeping, drooling and laughing without cause. They'd be glad to have me. For the rest of my life. That cave in Brazil was just a pipe dream.

But then, miracles unfolded.

First, Michael Penn returned to MTV for a second split second. Seriously: I really believe this video was only shown once on the network. It was 2am and I was the only person watching. Join me, won't you? Let's give it its second showing of all time:

Okay, I hear you. Jimi Hendrixs Michael is not. And the actor brought in to air strum the bass is an embarrassment. And yes, there is no explanation whatsoever for the creep in the foreground, and I cannot explain any of the plot here to you.

But come on: check out that lady defying gravity! Note how nothing of substance musically occurs in the last 30 seconds; they just keep playing the same, slow and sweet keyboard hook. And admit it: Michael looks more like Hugh Grant's sibling than Sean's. Maybe there was a mix up in the hospital or something. Wow, I still really love this stuff.

When that first and only showing of the video ended I stood up, defiant. I turned MTV off and, basically, never watched it again. Suddenly it seemed like there were more important things to do.

And when I climbed on my bike a day or two later, ready for the first return to school, that same sense still surged in me. I didn't know what to call it, but it felt good. I picked up my buddy Matt on the ride in and joyfully told him to not worry about it when he asked what the plan was for, you know, explaining my face. Being a thoroughly excellent human being, he trusted me and asked no further questions.

"Yeah, I've got herpes," I happily declared to all 614 of the 8th graders who stared at me that day. "I've got it pretty bad!"

Here's a secret, Dollar Binners, a secret you are welcome to pass on to anyone you know who's still in middle school: when faced with teenage adversity it's time to go big and be weird or just fold up and whimper. I did the former, and I've tried doing it ever since.

Matt, and the few other people who mattered, stuck with me that day. In fact they thought my whole approach was pretty awesome. Together we gave up on being popular and settled for joyful instead. We turned up Michael Penn and embraced our own individual selves, scabs and all.

P.S. As you can tell from the stock photo in the opening, this is a record I don't yet own. And my 80's tape is long, long gone. Someday I will come across a copy of March in the Dollar Bin. It will be tattered and unloved, full of skips and crunches. It will be wonderful.

[cellarfulofnose]

Ashes, Ashes

College professor George AU, 1.6k, late 80s/Cloud 9 era.

It was Sean the T.A. who passed back their papers that morning, a black-haired boy with eyes like a rabbit. Melissa hoped he hadn’t been the one to grade them over winter vacation. He was a sharp kid, but he had notions. Visions. Without prompting, he’d claimed to be a witch, and he had intensely specific interpretations of the class syllabus that often resulted in grading disputes. The issue had made its way to Dr. Harrison’s desk only once, whereupon he dismissed the claim that Sean wasn’t fit for the office of Teaching Assistant and sent everybody home with an A-minus. Whispers of nepotism led Melissa to believe that Dr. Harrison had some sort of working relationship with the boy’s father; or—as she secretly suspected, though without evidence—his mother.

Sean handed back the last paper and took his seat in the front row. The Hair (as the professor was colloquially known, owing both to his name and his yesteryear’s shaggy cut) was conspicuously absent from the podium. Melissa cringed inwardly. If Dr. Harrison didn’t show, lecture responsibilities fell to Sean, in which event she really needn’t have bothered to run for her bus that morning. 

The mood in the lecture hall shifted from boredom to restlessness. People sighed, played with their pencils, murmured to each other. A girl in the front row leaned left to ask something of Sean. They were too far away for Melissa to hear the exchange, but Sean shook his head sharply and gave his quick response. Melissa looked at the clock.

When the door groaned open and Dr. Harrison breezed into the auditorium at last, a ripple of straightening rustled through the rows. Melissa felt her tiredness fade. She was operating on an obscene sleep deficit since New Year’s, but she couldn’t help attending to him. Everything about The Hair was interesting, down to his…well. Today’s ‘do looked shaggier than usual. He rarely shaved, and he certainly hadn’t now. He looked a year older, at least, but it suited him. Melissa tended to roll her eyes at comparisons of men to high-shelf whiskey aged in oak barrels, but if it ain’t broke…

Dr. Harrison chugged from a tall thermos cup. “Good morning.”

The good mornings in response were slightly muted. True, it was the day after New Year’s, and of those who had made it in, half were still hungover. But just as many seemed to be taken aback by Dr. Harrison’s gravelly voice. He spoke with a heavenly smoky rasp normally, and an out-of-town accent, such a gift to the ear that he never had to shout to be heard, even with his soft voice. Today the rasp sounded like nails, and he was speaking through a wall of congestion that distorted the very tune of his words. Plainly, he was sick. It sounded like the flu. Quite possibly the plague.

“Happy new year,” ventured one show-off.

Dr. Harrison cleared his throat, satisfied on the third try. “Happy new year. It might feel like no time has passed at all since we were together last. Or…” he coughed into a wool-jacketed sleeve, “not enough, anyway, those of you still trying to sleep off your champagne. But I can assure you the seasons are changing; case in point, the powers that be have delivered my semi-annual sinus infection.” He snuffled as if for emphasis, which seemed to invite another cough. He swiped at his nose, which was beginning to look pink, and continued. “For the scientifically minded—though if that’s you, I’m not sure what you’re doing in a comparative religion class—don’t worry, I am definitively not contagious.”

As Dr. Harrison dabbed at his nose with a balled-up tissue he’d produced from his sleeve, he cast his eyes around his audience. Melissa felt strangely horrified when they lighted on her. If possible, she didn’t want him to know she was watching. It seemed too private, too intimate. By the most amateur opinion, he should be in bed. She’d never dream of slinking into class in the state he was in, and just forget about teaching. Secondhand embarrassment, and the uneasy sense that they were witnessing something they shouldn’t, had her looking down, chewing her lip to avoid grimacing outright. Even avoiding his gaze felt wrong. She couldn’t stand the idea of him assuming she was just disgusted, selfishly preoccupied about getting sick.

“I can see some of you don’t buy that.” A smile was audible in his voice. Melissa dared not look. “O ye of little faith? Well, good. That’s who I want in my class—skeptics.”

Melissa had to smile. She felt brave enough to look at the red pen that scarred her essay. A sigh of relief—the handwriting was Dr. Harrison’s. Good intro, it said. Fine, but not very constructive. One or two silly grammar mistakes, borne of changing part of the sentence without properly deleting the old syntax. Her stomach ached. This was only the first page. Dr. Harrison recorded grades on the very last page, for reasons having to do with privacy and, as she’d come to learn, his dramatic streak.

“Who can tell me where we…”

Melissa thought she heard him gasp, and she looked up instinctively, just as she would alert to a sudden movement. She couldn’t make sense of what she saw at first, Dr. Harrison tugging on his lapel to pull the right breast of his jacket over his mouth and nose. That is, until he let out a soft sneeze into it, then another slightly less soft.

The lecture hall boiled with a hundred-odd students clamoring Bless you. Melissa couldn’t say it. She thought she might melt from the embarrassment.

“No, hang on, hang on,” Dr. Harrison gurgled. He sniffed and asked, “What do we say in here?”

“...Gesundheit,” came the guilty reply.

“That’s better.” After every phrase, Dr. Harrison blew his nose into a ball of sleeve-tissues. “Non-denominational. German, therefore—efficient.” 

Unable to look at his face, Melissa watched his hands. Even after tucking away his well-used tissues, he went on touching the podium, no hand sanitizer or anything. There was a true act of faith; his behavior did seem to indicate non-transmissibility. She looked again at his handwriting on her paper and wondered what else had touched it.

Dr. Harrison began the lecture, but not two sentences in, he ground to a halt. His gaze was somewhere in the middle distance, under a slight frown, as if he’d forgotten something.

He blinked and said in a level voice, “I’m going to sneeze again.”

A quiet giggle flew around the room. Dr. Harrison only fueled it by continuing. “When, you ask? That’s what I’d like to know too. I’ll…” Melissa thought she heard a catch in his voice, but he went on undaunted. “I’ll make an exception. A little teaching moment. Religious blessings okay. Has anybody got one?”

His hand drifted, scanning for volunteers. One or two hands went up. Dr. Harrison pointed at a girl in the middle. “Get it ready.” As before, the line earned a laugh, but this one was quiet, brief, followed quickly by rapt silence. The Hair was rushing his words, starting to squint. When Melissa saw his nose wrinkle, she looked away. She couldn’t imagine anything so mortifying. 

The silence gnawed. Melissa felt a drop of sweat roll down her side. Then he gave a faint exhale—no one moved—Melissa wished for a meteor.

“ahh-Choo!”

The lecture hall broke out in raucous applause. The girl said something but was drowned out.

Clutching his wad of tissues to his nose, Dr. Harrison motioned for everyone to hush. “What’s that?” He held his free hand to his ear.

“Alhamdulillah,” she repeated, a breathy lilt.

“Beautiful. Thank you.” Dr. Harrison drank deeply from his thermos cup. “But I’ll have to ask you to hold your applause until the very end. I promise you this performance is not over.” 

As he lectured, Melissa sought refuge in her essay. Where she had compared harvest myths to beliefs surrounding death, a big red bracket wrapped its claws around the paragraph. Next to it was written If you enjoy this I have a book for you to read. She tried to imagine him holding office hours in his current circumstances—then tried to quit imagining it.

“And with the cosmic ocean, we often see this—”

Dr. Harrison interrupted himself to sneeze twice, two quick bursts, which made it doubly impossible for Melissa to concentrate on her essay.

“Bless—” a freshman girl started to blurt, before censoring herself with an audible smack of hand over mouth.

Dr. Harrison made a waving gesture, conveying either wait or stop or don’t worry about it, too preoccupied with sneezing again to address her directly. “It’s all right,” he finally got out through a thick bundle of tissues, and blew his nose. “I’ll allow it. There’s great spiritual release in ritual chanting. Anybody got one? Shout ‘em out.”

A cacophony of multilingual blessings rattled the rafters. Dr. Harrison echoed each, pointing as he fielded them and tacking on a Thank you here and there.

“Bless you,” Melissa whispered, lost in the din. Her face felt scorched.

“All right. Business.” Dr. Harrison swallowed and his hand lifted to his throat, clearly unaware he was doing it. His voice was going. To say it would be gone by the end of lecture was a generous estimate. 

He sighed. “How long ‘ve we got left of this class, Sean?”

Sean consulted a pocket watch. “Hour and twenty-one minutes.”

Dr. Harrison turned his eyes heavenward. “Fuck.”

As laughter bubbled around her, Melissa lifted the corner of her paper to peek at the last page of her essay. Just a glimpse. A quick scratch of red writing. 

Her score had three digits. More was written beside it. 

Melissa flipped her paper upside-down on her desk, her heart pounding, and went hunting for a pen of her own. She'd decided to pay attention.

---

(If you're a fan of professor AUs, and George in particular, be sure to check out the Professor Harrison series by thecherrytrees on AO3. It's like a love letter to DILFy George and definitely got me on board with the premise.)

[thetwobosses]

For the Boss ask meme: #1, #10, #18 for Boss/es of your choice! I'm one of your newer followers so I'm looking through your stuff about your Bosses now and I'm very intrigued 😊

Hello and thank you! :D I'll answer for Meryl, Colin and Eli since they are my main Bosses and the most developed.

1. Is your Boss's name a secret? Do some people know but not others? Do they use a pseudonym? A nickname?

Meryl's full name used to be Meryl Tammesalu, but once the gang stuff got serious in SR2, she legally dropped her surname to try to keep the rest of her family from being as publicly associated with her and thus safer (that and people kept mispronouncing it). The name is Estonian (it means 'oak grove'), as her grandparents were among the thousands of Estonian expats fleeing WW2 to North America.

Colin was born in London as Sean Healey, but moved to Stilwater in his late teens to escape his destitute life and start fresh, experience the "American Dream" and all that. In his mind, a new beginning demanded a new name, because he felt his was too "soft" and "uncool". He picked out 'Colin Alton' because he thought it sounded more sophisticated without being overly pretentious. As the Saints rose in fame, Colin would downplay his past, including his old name. While he didn't manage to scrub all evidence of it, it wasn't too well known either. When Colin ended up stranded in Meryl's universe after SR3, he initially didn't tell anyone he used to go by a different name, so Meryl's searches for a version of Colin native to her universe didn't bear fruit. Colin had figured that if he hadn't changed his name (and thus moved to the US), he probably would have remained languishing in London and he decided he would rather not find out whether that was the case. He ended up ultimately being proven correct, as he and Meryl were confronted by an incredulous and pissed off Sean Healey during a trip to London, but that's a whole story on its own.

Eli's last name is Chase (there should probably be a middle name as well but tbh I've never really wrapped my head around middle names being a thing in many countries so none of my characters have them xD). He's an enby and goes by all pronouns, though generally defaults to he/him, and kind of as a part of that also encourages variation in the pronunciation of his first name. It can be the usual 'ee-lye', but also rhyming with 'Ellie'. Pierce and Shaundi tend to go with the latter and even shorten it to 'El/Elle' as a nickname.

10. How has your Boss changed throughout the games/years?

Meryl has probably changed the least of the main three. She'd initially joined the Saints because it had seemed like a cool and interesting thing at the time (plus she was going through a rebellious phase), and while she did go through a darker, more brutal period after her coma as many Bosses would, her underlying personality remained fun-loving and excitable over her career in the Saints.

Colin would let his vengefulness and quick temper get the better of him at times, especially in Steelport when his knee-jerk reaction was to not let Killbane get away. The loss of Shaundi, and the discovery that while Meryl had led her Saints through almost the exact same situations, her Shaundi still lived, had Colin eventually choose to make a concerted effort to curb some of his worst impulses. It's not perfect, but these days he can usually swallow his pride and take a slight without blowing up over it (though he will grump about it later in private).

Eli has grown a lot in the Saints. He joined up only after Jack woke from her coma and begun reforming the gang, but started out as rather meek and anxious, and with very little combat experience. He stood out as a tactician and strategist though, and once Pierce took him under his wing, Eli really started coming into his own in the gang. Jack gambled and elevated him to lieutenant to replace Carlos despite Eli's similar lack of experience with leadership. After Jack got killed in a Masako ambush and the Saints were torn on how to respond, Eli ended up grabbing the reins much to everyone's surprise (including his own). As much as Eli wasn't a fond of Jack's ruthlessness and penchant for violence, and vowed to not end up following in her footsteps, the later war against the Syndicate forced him to make some uncomfortable compromises. Yet he would never go as far as she did, and would still try and look for non-violent solutions first.

18. Do they have a best/closest friend?

Meryl grew up close with her family, especially one of her brothers. In the Saints, though she was naturally close friends with Johnny, Shaundi and Pierce, she wouldn't find a true soulmate until the arrival of Colin. Despite their many differences in upbringing and personality, their shared traits and experiences in the Saints helped bring them together as friends and then lovers. She also eventually grew a real fondness for Sean Healey, after Colin brought him to live with them in the US.

In his old universe, Colin had been especially close with two people: Johnny Gat, and fellow Brit Colin Faulkner. Colin and Johnny fell in together early on in the Saints, though Colin never revealed to Gat his unrequited infatuation. Johnny's "death" hit Colin hard, but rather than properly process his grief, he buried it deep down and tried to ignore it. Colin Faulkner (a non-Boss AU version of @princessdemeter's Boss) was an (ex-)hooker in Stilwater whom my Colin ended up befriending after his coma. Faulkner soon became Colin's confidante and friend with benefits, in part because he never officially joined the Saints. Colin's hopeless feelings for Gat made him willfully blind to the fact that Faulkner had fallen for the Boss, or that his own affections for Faulkner might have been more than just platonic. Unfortunately the two of them would never have the chance to work things out except in AUs, as a few months after SR:TT, Colin would end up permanently whisked away to Meryl's universe by a wayward piece of Zin tech. There, after somewhat rocky beginnings, he and Meryl quickly grew close. Colin eventually also decided to make peace with his humble origins and reached out to Sean Healey despite their poor first impressions. They found enough common ground to become good friends over the years and Colin even brought Sean over to live with him and Meryl in Steelport.

Pierce became Eli's closest friend in the Saints almost from the get-go. The two of them had similar inclinations towards choosing strategy over brute force methods, making them natural allies in the gang between Jack and Gat's bloodlust and Shaundi taking credit for Pierce's ideas. They also share similar senses of humor and several geeky interests, leading them to enjoy each other's company even outside of "work". They started dating between SR2 and 3 and managed to remain together even thought the strain of the presidency and the Zin invasion. Eli wasn't actually as close with the other Saints lieutenants as most Bosses. While Johnny was alive, the two of them often found themselves diametrically opposed and respected each other more for their skills than character. Eli was initially annoyed with Shaundi's constant one-upping of Pierce as well as her penchant for drugs, but they found a better understanding with each other over time. Of the Steelport lieutenants, Eli and Oleg got along well, while he distrusted Kinzie, remained ambivalent and slightly wary toward Angel and Viola, and absolutely abhorred Zimos. Once in space, Eli and Matt ended up becoming friends, especially since there hadn't been too much bad blood between them back in Steelport, and Eli would often prefer having Matt hack the Simulation over Kinzie.

[uhhhhmanda]

I'm a white secular Buddhist but I really really felt the Buddhism in EEAAO in the theater. I second everything written above and add the only other write-up I've seen of the Buddhist underpinnings of the movie:

Okay… I was kind of content to be lazy and not go into a whole thing about all this. but i keep seeing more and more reviews and reactions and such of Everything Everywhere All At Once, and so far not a one has touched on the film having distinctly Buddhist philosophies and symbolism at its roots. So I guess I'm just going to have to do this...

To start, with only lite spoilers and rearranging of film events to fit their chronological in-world order, let me first give a run down of the film's basic shtick…

Evelynn Wang is a middle aged first generation Chinese American immigrant running a laundromat with her husband, a mousey but extremely big hearted and quirky man named Waymond. When they were young, and fell in love while living in China, Waymond convinced her to move to America with him and out of disapproval of Waymond and the move in general, Evelynn's father(unnamed) disowned her. That same father, now in poor health and apprently with no other family or support left in China, has recently flown to America from China to live out the rest of his life with the daughter he disowned and the husband he disapproved of.

So, as Evelynn gets ready for both a Chinese New Years party, and a dire appointment with an IRS auditor, her (not exactly clear on age? 20s?) college dropout daughter, Joy, is also discussing introducing her girlfriend, Becky, to her grandfather —something Evelynn does not really approve of. Also, although she is not yet aware of it, her husband, Waymond, is also attempting(and thus far failing) to approach her about the subject of divorce; not to actually divorce her, but to use the possibility of a divorce to force a frank conversation about the state of their marriage, and what Waymond sees as Evelynn's long standing and growing dissatisfaction with their life together.

(Oh, and although it was technically clipped from the final script as a concrete detail, all indications from how they are characterized inicate that Evelynn and Joy struggle with undiagnosed ADHD.)

With that as the set up for the story, this overwhelming stress in her life aligns with(or perhaps in a sort of cosmic destiny sense, triggers…) her awakening to the existence of infinite parallel universes. And she is faced with the choice to either continue her mundane life as planned, or accept this call to adventure as the savior of multiple realities.

The the threat to all existence that she is the many worlds' savior from is a kind of ascendent form of her own daughter, Joy, who in another reality was pushed to excel at reality hopping by her mother to the point where she was overwhelmed by the pressure to succeed and by the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. To escape the anxiety of an all seeing existance, this villainous Joy, dubbed Jobu Tupaki, has created a kind of blackhole as a nexus of multiple realities all collapsing onto themselves.

And, finally, to avert this world ending crisis, Evelynn must learn to channel into herself, the knowledge, experience, and skills of her many other selves. She does this at first to match and challenge Jobu Tupaki, and later to understand and potentially negotiate with her.

So what does this have to do with Buddhism?

The mytho-historical origins of Buddhism are in the life and teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, generally presented as a story of a young man living an inordinately sheltered and privileged life who has an encounter with the old, the sickly, the dead, and then an ascetic.(someone in the, often but not exclusively spiritual act of self-denial; living while refusing luxury in an act of self-discipline.) These experiences are referred to as The Four Sights.

This isn't in and of itself particularly important in the context of the film, but the first 3 sights make Siddhartha for the first time aware of the difficulties of being alive; to lose youth, to lose health, and to lose life. And he becomes aware that all living things share in these experiences, and subsequently that the individual and ego driven experience is not unique. But the 4th sight, of the man in self-denial makes him aware that people can live without attachment to those things in the first place. And this begins his spiritual journey in search of Nirvana thru, among other things, meditation. And via said mediation he becomes Bodhi:"Awakened." (from which the epithet Buddha:"Awakened One" is derived.)

Okay... so without letting this spiral too out of control... What is Nirvana? Apart from an iconic Gen X rock band fronted by Kurt Cobain?

Nirvana is the state of being of having escaped from those worldly sufferings. In some, perhaps more supernatural, perspectives it can be interpreted as literal immortality, but more practically it means freedom, not from the experience of aging, but the fear of aging; If you don't value something like vanity, you don't fear its loss, and if you don't fear losing it, your life is not governed by navigating around that potential loss.

It also involves an escape from the endless cycle of death and rebirth implicit to Buddhism as a religion rooted in its preceding Hindu theology. (This same root in Hinduism is where the idea of karma comes from: the idea that what you do in one life incurs consequences in the next life, for good and for ill.) And part of the Buddha's role as an all-seeing and all-knowing figure is that he can also see his other(past) lives. This escape and the prerequisite ability to see and to understand and to empathize with all living things through your own awakening to your infinite experiences in many lives, and the universal suffering that comes with living and aging and dying, is the goal of Buddhist teaching and study; To understand your place in a much MUCH bigger picture and find peace in a life free of the push and pull of expectation and external societal pressures. That's Nirvana.

Now... In relation to Nirvana is the concept of Anatta: "The Non-self." The concept that there is no such thing as a "true self" or a "false self" and that individual identity is mutable; nothing exists in a singular finite state, least of all people. (This btw is a point of conflict for a lot of would be Buddhist scholars in the west, where it conflicts heavily with the insistence on trying to preserve or otherwise find in Buddhist philosophy some trace of the Christian "immortal soul.") And adjacent to this, the concept of Sunyata: "Emptyness"/"Nothingness."

And Sunyata is where the black circle symbolism comes from. Sunyata is literally composed of the sanskrit word for "empty/vacant/void/nothing/hollow/zero" etc… and the suffix indicating a state of being, often translated as "-like" or "as (if) __" or "-ism." In fact, the circle itself actually old enough that it shares its origins with the arabic numeral zero; It is one of the oldest and most basic human concepts of visualizing "nothing."

And it is of course the reference at the core of the Everything Bagel in Everything Everywhere All At Once. (that's right, I'm actually still talking about the movie!)

So, this is where the film actually starts its Buddhism crash course, more or less… Evelynn is caught in the endless wheel of life and suffering, or as she summarizes it, "Laundry and taxes and laundry and taxes…" And this life is disrupted by the appearance of the Sunyata, the menacing black circle Deirdre draws on one of the disputed receipts, which threatens to end everything. And indeed "Everything" is embodied in the daunting pile of receipts, in the many events taking place on this one single day, by the unspoken ADHD sensory overload, and by the existence of the multiverse itself.

Like the Buddha, Evelynn becomes aware of her other lives. But while the Buddha's understanding of the cycle of reincarnation is about past lives and their sequence, Evelynn's induction into the multiverse is the understanding of parallel lives and of alternate potentiala. This in turn manifests as what is called FOMO*(Fear Of Missing Out) a kind of jealousy and envy and anxiety that comes from feeling like you've missed your opportunities, most often triggered by seeing other people fulfilling the potentials you haven't.

*Stick a pin in this, because we'll come back to it...

So, Evelynn's path to enlightenment starts with her experiencing her other lives, but what helps move her forward is not some critical accumulation of her own experiences, it's when she realizes that the life she wants to experience, to see and understand, is her daughter's: the villain, Jobu Tupaki's experience. And she endeavors to find in that empathy some kind of peaceful resolution.

And in Buddhist art this state of heightened awareness is illustrated as the opening of the 3rd eye: The Eye of Consciousness. And the cultivation of this third eye is a core tenet of Zen Buddhism in particular; a sect of Buddhism that emphasizes self reflection thru meditation, and the contemplation and application of the Sunyata.

(There's actually a whole tangent I'm cutting here about the bodhisattva, Guanyin/Avalokiteśvara: An Indian god turned Chinese goddess, characterized as one who sees everything, who displays infinite mercy, and who has 108 different forms(including, according to the tibetan sect that revere him, the dalai lama). I think there's a definite through line here, from the Buddhist figure to Waymond to Evelynn, but it's a but much and honestly not as concrete as the rest of the symbolism at play, so I'm just tabling it...)

And it's a little less overt but the scene with the rocks over the canyon in the movie also directly evokes a meditative exercise of imagining yourself as a stone. You are stable and immobile and of sufficient size, functionally immovable; you exist in nature, as a part of nature, and in opposition to nature. You can be navigated around and over and under, and both do not disturb the scenery around you, nor are you disturbed by it, and while you may be unlike much of what is alive around you, you are none the less a part of the scene.

The emulation of a stone-like demeanor in relation to the stressors of life emphasizes that you needn't give in to the push and pull of the world around you; you don't need to capitulate to the pressures others put on you, nor do you have to assert your control over them to avoid being victimized. You can simply exist as a part of the larger picture without disturbing others or being disturbed.

(I've always attributed this to meditative buddhism in general but it turns out (I think) it was actually adopted by chinese buddhism via daoism and confusianism. The term wu-wei[無為] often translated translated as "inaction" or "action without action". Look it up for more detail, its cool stuff)

And finally the concept of Mudita: defined as joy felt on behalf of others for their own wellbeing. Opposite of things like schadenfreude and FOMO.

So, here's our return to FOMO.... I'm not sure the exact relation but the term showed up a surprising amount in interviews surrounding the film, particularly in regards to Ke Huy Quan's long absence from acting, but I get the impression this was a keyword that Daniels used during writing that spread into the way the cast talk about the film as a result. And it makes sense both in regards to the ADHD themes, the midlife crisis, and of course the resolution of the film's grappling with self-destructive nihilism.

But also, obviously, I'm sure you notice, this specific kind of "joy" is embodied directly in the character, Joy, Evelynn's estranged daughter. Because not only is the solution to Evelynn's restlessness and sense of unaccomplished life something she can overcome through the legacy of her daughter; not by her daughter's "success" in conventional means(which all context implies she has pushed her towards in the pass to the point of breakdown) but by her joy in living a self-fulfilled life. Evelynn can be happy by knowing she can allow Joy to be happy.

But also this works metaphorically, in that reconnecting with Joy means reconnecting with (sympathetic)joy. She forgot what being happy was, for herself but also for others, and by rediscovering that concept she can overcome her own dissatisfactions. And indeed the ultimate form Evelynn attains in the final fight is one of sympathetic joy, and of mercy.(see: that Guanyin theme I only briefly touched on) See used her opened 3rd eye to see the lives of other people and to grant them the joy she herself lacked and longed for, and in turn found that joy for herself. "Be kind" Waymond says, and in that kindness, that selflessness, Evelynn finds her salvation from the endless cycle of suffering of life. She becomes enlightened. She reaches Nirvana.

And this is, btw, why the film DOESN'T end with optimism and hope and individualist concepts of self-actualization and overwhleming positivity being some kind of solution to negativity and depression. And why the nihilism is non treated as synonymous with some western concept of "evil" in direct opposition to "good." Because the innately Buddhist philosophy at the roots of it is all about personal balance and being at peace with reality rather than at odds with it. And that means embracing the bigger picture, rather than trying to force it and one's self into some limited perspective of what "should" be, rather than simply what is.

Anyway that's my hectic, halfbaked rant about the specifically Buddhist backbone to this film. It is such a fascinatingly secular approach to a crash course in Buddhist philosophy, despite being so blatantly and AGRESSIVELY Buddhist in how the film embodies its philosophies.

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[noooofxxx]

hollllyyyy baby bellly

pick a side 🫣

I’ve had SO much pain today, constant contractions all day. I’ve barely been able to get up, getting out of my car was a STRUGGLE. I had to meet Sean to drop oaks off and I was hunched over in pain from contractions lmaoo. I was really going through it today honestly. I’ve been so exhausted and have felt like I literally cannot get enough sleep, like falling asleep while driving exhausted and that never happens. I went to bed at 9:30 last night and was still DRAINED today. So my plan is to pass out and hopefully get some much needed rest tomorrow, take a hot bath and do some laundry. I gotta clean Oaklyns room while she’s at her dads which is easy so it won’t be too much on me. I am redoing Camdens room but my sister/uncle moved everything so I’m just putting the curtains up, bedding on, clothes away, ect. But both kids will have brand new room set ups and everything is already looking so much better. Once my remodeling is done downstairs, I can start transforming it how I want it and it’ll be like a brand new house. eventually I’d like to do my room but I’m not too worried about it at the moment. but that’s pretty much everything happening at the moment. My next doctors appointment is in 8 days so we’ll see what happens then. I’ll be 36 weeks, then I’ll have 2 weekly appointments and thennnnn c section time. If I even make it that far 😳 it’s actually so close that I’m starting to freak out.

[seanwoolseyusa]

The rock maple surface of the Woolsey shuffleboard table features a long-lasting, UV-resistant epoxy resin coating. Should you have this issue, the sound of pucks falling off the maple top is muffled by the charcoal gray industrial felt that lines the gutters. If necessary, you may use our climate adjusters to level the board. We utilized black walnut on the top of the table around the circumference, and solid black walnut legs with hidden leg levelers sleeve into the steel frame. Both the numerals and the lines are inlaid with black walnut.

[ttuesday]

what pets do you think the VDL boys would have in a modern setting? and what do u think the pets’ names would be? also i love you *kisses you on the cheek*

*swoons* I love you too anon <3

Arthur

Arthur is 100% a dog person. I could definitely see him volunteering at animal shelters and dog pounds at the weekend too.

It was when Arthur was helping at the dog pound, he saw a timid border collie. It took a while for the dog to start trusting Arthur but soon they became best friends and Arthur adopted her.

I think Arthur would give his dog a common but very cute name, like Maggie, Daisy or Bailey.

Dutch

Dutch wanted to get a pet but he was always unsure of what to get. Thankfully, Trelawny suggested the perfect pet for Dutch.

Dutch loves his pet parrot. He loves it when the parrot sits on his shoulder and watches the world go by. The best thing about having a pet parrot is that it can talk. Now whenever Dutch goes on a rant or says a speech, the parrot squawks "I have faith” or “nice plan”.

After going through a series of names, Dutch settled on naming his parrot after a historical figure. For a while he thought about calling him Caesar but in the end, he went with Shakespeare.

John

John adores his pet. He always wants to bring his pet with him everywhere but he knows that’s a bad idea. He did it once but he nearly dropped the bowl of water which would’ve been a disaster.

John has a pet goldfish that he loves dearly. He doesn’t have to do too much to look after it which makes it the perfect pet for John. 

Unfortunately John isn’t that creative when it came to picking a name for his goldfish. Nevertheless, he chose a strong, caring and overall immaculate name... yes, John calls the goldfish John. 

To stop any confusion, a lot of people call the goldfish Johnathon. 

Charles

Charles was only going to get a simple, small pet. Nothing too extreme. When he saw the little guinea pigs in the pet store, he knew he had to buy one

...but he couldn’t just buy one. Guinea pigs are known for getting very lonely if they don’t have a companion so Charles had to buy 2... but he couldn’t pick out which 2 he wanted so he ended up buying the 5 guinea pigs they had in the store.

To make life easier, Charles decided to name them all after trees. So now Charles lives with Oak, Maple, Ash, Birch and Elm.

Bill

Bill loves his two pet mice. He doesn’t understand why some people don’t like mice, they’re surprisingly cute. Bill even made them little hats and coats. 

He tried to train them to do tricks but they got too preoccupied sniffing and climbing things to actually try and do the tricks. 

Bill’s a bit embarrassed when he tells you the names of his mice. He mumbles as he holds them up “This one’s called Sprinkles and this is Mr Fluffles”.

Javier

Javier knew exactly what kind of dog he wanted to buy. Javier wanted to find the biggest, fluffiest dog possible. It was his ultimate dream.

Finally, Javier bought a Samoyed dog, which is very fluffy and bright white in colour. Javier’s favourite thing to do is take naps with his dog because of how comfy he is. The dog’s kinda like a living blanket.

Javier named his dog Rio and bought about 4 different dog collars, a dog bed, 2 food bowls and a bow that all have Rio written on them.

Micah

Micah isn’t an animal person. He hates dogs, fish are useless and he dislikes all rodents. Animals are not his thing... until one day, Micah found a cat. They stared at each other for a moment and in that moment, Micah felt the cat look deep into his soul.

From that day on, Micah brings the cat everywhere with him. It’s his best friend and Micah truly feels like the cat understands him. 

But Micah won’t give the cat a name because then it’ll be obvious he’s gotten attached to the creature. Instead Micah simply refers to it as ‘the cat’.

Sean

Sean doesn’t understand why people spend so much money on buying a pet. All he did to get his pet was go outside and dig around in some dirt.

Sean was very proud of his pet earthworm. He named him Tim and carried him around to show everyone. 

Everything was going fine until about 2 hours later, when Sean lost him. He asked Jack to draw some missing posters but unfortunately Tim was never found. Sean still has hope though and believes Tim ran off to Canada to start a family.

[thewackyrandomwriter]

SNOW WAR- PART I. (Also on my Wattpad)

IRL- Inspired by the DOAWK book, The Meltdown (Which I was reading)

*Libby's POV*

In the small, sleepy town of Arcadia, there are these two neighborhoods that once got along with each other. Both neighborhoods are on the same street, but they're divided into two halves. There's Cirrus Street, which is the hill, and Acacia Street, which is the flat part at the bottom. The people from both of the streets used to like one another, they spent time out together every single time, every kid, teen, playing in each place. And even though they all live on the same street, nowadays the hills and the non-hills can't STAND one another because of one cold wintry day.

A large, fuming snowball fight broke out between the two neighborhoods. Not just any soft, regular snowball fight, a snow WAR- Yellow snow, ice balls, and all that was used in this. All that used to be friendship and kindness, go to smithereens.

The ones who live at the TOP of the hill have it MADE. Their part of the street is HIGH, but not too steep and such, so they can do anything they want up there. That's why all the athletes come from Cirrus Street. Unlike below, the roads are all cracked and just messy from the frozen weather lately, or.. more in general actually, which makes it impossible to rollerskate, ride bikes, anything basically. The thing is, nowadays, the kids who live on the hillside of the street think they OWN it.

And if any of the Acacia people come up to PLAY and HANG OUT, the people living in Cirrus Street won't LET them under any circumstances.And since then, the two could never be allowed in their territory, no more playing games or running around, where they all each stayed in their side of their street. The once peaceful, loving neighborhoods became the greatest of enemies.

There's a lot of bad blood between the hill and non-hill neighborhoods, which is why we can't be friends. But whenever I try to explain the situation to Aunt Minerva, or Uncle Henry they just don't get it. In fact, NONE of the adults on our street do. They're all friends with each other, and they have no CLUE about what's REALLY going on.

If you live on Acacia or Cirrus, you're either a HILL kid or a NON-hill kid, and there are no switching sides. There's a person who goes to my school named Sean Scott who lived on the lower side until last summer, which is when his family moved to a bigger house at the top of the street. But the others up there still consider Sean a non-hill person, so they won't let him hang out on the street. The Acacia side thinks of him as a traitor for moving, and won't let him sled in the winter, except for me and my friends, because he was actually super friendly to us. So now Sean is basically stuck indoors year-round.

Lately, though, things have been pretty calm on our street. Us non-hill kids keep to OUR side, and the other hill guys keep to THEIRS. But if someone does something stupid, this whole place is going to BLOW. Last winter, a bunch of the higher hill people bought the same winter gear as the lower street, and it was WEEKS before any of us caught on.

But when it SNOWS, the tables are turned. All of a sudden the Cirrus Street kids want to use our turf for SLEDDING, but that's when we give those guys a taste of their own medicine.

~~~

*No one's POV*

It was a nippy winter morning in Arcadia Oaks. November only felt like it just came along, but after Thanksgiving, December quickly rolled along. The light yellow sun was shining like always, beckoning people up peacefully as they rose from their beds. Libby got up from bed and yawned, went over to the bathroom, got herself all ready.

But instead of wearing her regular cardigan, shirt, jeans, and flats, she dressed in nice, classy, warming winter attire. She wore a thick white turtleneck, with a few other layers underneath, since it was very chilly outdoors. She put on some nice pants, but as they warmed her, they still looked very stylish in a way, which Libby loved. To finish it off, she wore a long beige trenchcoat, a dark purple scarf, a winter hat, gloves, and some dark boots.

"Perfect!" She said to herself in the mirror.

"Libby! Time for breakfast!" Uncle Henry hollered from downstairs.

"Don't wanna be late for school!" Aunt Minerva calls.

"Be right there!" Libby hollers back, getting her backpack, running out her door, down the stairs.

"Ah, mornin' Libby!" Aunt greeted with that sweet Auntie smile.

"Good morning, Libby!" Uncle greets, setting his cup of coffee. The welcoming smell of holiday delight lingered through the kitchen, making Libby more excited for the day, sitting down on her seat.

"Hi Libby," Lorraine waves a bunch of times.

"'Sup 'cuz," Valeria nods her head.

"Mornin!" Chantelle takes a dainty bite of French toast.

"Hi, ya'll," Libby giggled as Aunt serves her a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Ooh, eggs and bacon!"

After breakfast, Libby got all of her things and said goodbye to everyone before heading off to school to start her day with her friends. Once she shut the front door, about to take a step out, Libby's face dropped when something caught her eye. It wasn't just the nativity set that was elaborately placed outdoors or the shining trail of lights from the entrance to the front door or the hanging bright yellow stars from the porch ceiling. But she notices the grass had a thin layer of white glistening powder sprinkled out on the front lawn.

"Snow!" She gasps, putting her hands on her cheeks in excitement and unbelief. Snow like this is very rare in Arcadia, especially since the climate is typically very warm, in fact TOO warm for any snow, so this really surprised her. She grabs a small handful of snow, then lets it go, and trails off to her friend Jim's house.

When she approaches the Lake residence, she observes the neat wonderful lights hung by the porch and the adorable Xmas wreath on the door, not to mention some candy cane lights by the front lawn.. Libby politely knocked on the door, where Jim went and opened it.

"Oh, hi Libby, Morning!"

"Heya, Jim,"

"Come on in," He moved aside so she can go in, and once I did, a warm wave of heat strikes her.

"Wow.. it's warm in here," Libby said.

"Yep- My mom just got a new heating system for the house, so yeah,"

"Nice,"

Toby, Saraline, and Claire haven't arrived yet, so while they waited she sat on the nice comfy couch. He asked if Libby wanted some hot cocoa that he'd just made- Which she obviously accepted, hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. As she sipped contently, there was a knock at the door, which she places her hot chocolate down on the coffee table, and goes over to the door to open it.

"Oh, hey guys!" Libby greeted, her breath turning to a cold misty cloud of vapor from the chilly climate. The three of them were all snugly bundled up in layers and layers of insolation, from winter hats to boots, scarves, gloves, topped off with those thick snow jackets that made you look like a penguin when you walked, or in general- At least that's how Libby sees it, she does NOT enjoy wearing them.

"Hey, Libby," Claire waved.

"Hi, Libby," Saraline chimed in.

"Mornin' Libby. Jimbo in there?" he asks.

"Mhm, come in," Libby says.

The Trollhunting crew all conversed for a bit, talking especially about the unexpected fall of snow that hit the town, not to mention the sudden drop in temperature. They're sipping down some hot chocolate before bracing themselves for the cold air out there.

"Wowza guys! Today's super brutal, huh?" Toby shivers as a brisk gale swung by.

"I know- I don't think it's ever been this cold before." Saraline puts her gloved hands on her jacket pockets.

"I don't think it's ever been cold at all before," Jim says.

"Yeah, exactly," Claire adds in.

"Mhm, I agree," Libby chimes in. The teens reach the school, passing by the flock of bundled-up students, all dressed in their winter best.

"I think everyone here agrees, too," Libby observes some students, trembling, shivering, especially little Eli Pepperjack.

"Poor Eli.." Toby shook his head in empathy.

The classes went as normal, lunch ran smoothly, many people stayed inside the cafeteria, taking in all the warm foods and beverages to warm up.

~~~

When school ended and that final bell rang, the group started to walk back home, but the journey back proved more treacherous than the journey to school. The wind suddenly picked up, sending an immense freezing wind chill all throughout.

"It's-It's even c-colder than this morning," Libby trembled as she had her arms clutched tight.

As the wind picked up, the light snow started to slowly intensify. The thin layers of snow that were on the ground and grass, was quickly rising. They quickly started to approach the neighborhood.

"Oh no!" Saraline whispers, making everyone pause.

"What is it?" Libby asks. Toby just loses his soul as he looks ahead.

"Uhh-Uhh... g-guys-guys?" He stammers.

"What?!" Libby whisper shouts.

"Look." Jim points to a bunch of the Cirrus Street people out on their lawns, some building snowmen, some making snow angels, playing in the snow. The houses were nicely decorated with long colorful Christmas lights, some even had those inflatable snowmen or one of Santa Claus on his sleigh- Either on the snow or on the ROOF, which was pretty impressive since there weren't many over at Acacia.

"Oh.."

"My.."

"God.."

They had to go through Cirrus Street to get to Acacia Street where they lived, so they had to be careful to not go onto the Cirrus Street people's territory, it was obvious that they couldn't just sneak past them.. Those kids are too smart for that, so they'd have to blend in with the others.

"Just act natural," Jim instructed, the others nod in response, immediately making normal-looking expressions, giving the impression that everything was okay. And when they walked past them, everyone playing on the snow just gave them some glancing views, with confused looks on their faces.

"Hey..! Peace!" Toby makes a peace sign, trying to be cool.

"Hiya.. heh," Claire waves at some of the people out on the snow, who start to pause and just stare at them.

It all seemed to go well since it took a moment for them to think they were on the Cirrus side. After it was going well, something had to go bad- It didn't take too long for someone to notice something was not right.

"Hey.." A Cirrus kid pointed to Toby.

"Who's he?" A little girl asked, holding a snowball in her gloved hand.

"And who are they?" Another boy asks, pointing to the group of outsiders.

"Yeahhh.." Someone else speculated. Then the next second, a huge entourage formed around them, a circle of their enemies eyed them suspiciously.

"Oh dear.." Libby whispered.

"Who is SHE?" Someone finally points to Libby more specifically.

"Uh.. Who m-me?" She stuttered nervously, still keeping a smile.

"My name is.. P-Penelope.. Mum-Mumbleson.." Libby tries to invent a credible fake name, flashing a confident smile, the others in her friendly group nodding, playing along-but that quickly backfired, 'cause they weren't buying it. Jim facepalms after hearing and watching this painful moment.

"RUN!" Jim yells and soon massive pandemonium ensues.

"GET THEM! IT'S THOSE ACACIA STREET PUNKS!" They start to hurl snowballs towards the group where they were defenseless and helpless.

"GET THAT CHUBBY BRACE-FACE!" Someone in the crowd shouts, pointing at Toby

"WAIT- SPLIT UP, SPLIT UP!" Saraline hollers.

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING!" Jim yells as the teens split.

"I'LL HOLD THEM!" Libby insists.

"NO LIBBY, DON'T!" Toby screams as he's pelted viciously with snowballs, falling face-first to the snow.

"AAAAAHHHHAHHH!"

Libby grabs a huge mound of snow and creates poorly-shaped snowballs and throws whatever she has to try and fend them off, but quickly proves too much overwhelming work for her. People from all sides, attempt to corner her.

"RETREAT! RETREAT!" Libby panics, falling her arms about, running off over to catch up with her friends who were well far from the opposite neighborhood.

"RUNAWAY!" "LET'S MOVE GUYS, LET'S MOVE!!"

"THIS ISN'T OVER YOU MORONS!" The older Cirrus Street teen shouted, growled, kicking a mound of snow in rage. The snow got more aggressive, heavy snow started to fall, where everyone observed the sky and looked back at their pack leader.

"Oh.. they're doomed," He chuckled darkly.

"LET'S HEAD IN!" He calls out, where everyone goes to their houses in a rush.

[heckyeahponyscans]

Yeloli Watch Party

Season 1, Episode 3: Ironhide Enters the Scene

English translation

So we pick up where we left off, with Mary telling three bullies to stop tearing apart a metal robot toy after Loli told her that all toys are alive, and the toy would die if his head came off.  This is actually more grim than Toy Story, where losing a head was just cosmetic damage.

Speaking of Toy Story, this reminds me of an interview I read where the guys scripting it said they had to tone down Sid because his original version was so sadistic that it seemed like he knew the toys were alive and felt pain, which didn’t make sense.  Yeloli falls right into this trap, with these three kids coming across as psychos instead of kids being rough on a toy while playing pretend.  They tear off the robot’s arm and are about to remove his head when Mary grabs the toy away.

Mary tells them to stop mistreating the robot.  They shout that the toy is theirs because they fished it out of the trash and they try to grab it back.

During all this, Loli has floated up to roof level, unnoticed, and we are hitting ALL the Toy Story beats because she decides these three kids need to be taught a lesson.

So she TURNS THEM INTO TOYS.

And then when Mary’s like, “Uh, teach them a lesson but don’t hurt them, okay?”, Loli is like, “Check it out, I can also shrink them! :D”  I’m really enjoying Loli.

Mary puppets the robot toy and uses it to make the boys promise to treat their toys nicely (”If you dare mess with me again, I'll finish you off!”) then has Loli return them to normal size / human form.  Mary tries to give them the robot back but they run off screaming.

Worth noting:  all the run cycles are very weird and funny.  Like they’re way too slow.

Anyway, Mary asks Loli if she can use her fairy magic to grow back the robot’s arm.  Loli asks why she wants to, which Mary says she feels bad for the robot since it was abandoned and tormented.

Loli proudly says Mary is a great girl and acquiesces, growing the robot’s arm back and giving it sentience. For some reason.

The robot introduces himself as Ironhide or Ironside, Google Translate was unsure, and he thanks Mary and Loli by . . . dancing!  In a very weird sequence that goes on for a full minute, with a black background as though he’s in a music video or something???  

I get the sense that someone was very proud of this animated sequence, which is nice but also why.

The robot tells its tale, which is basically what we’ve already learned / inferred--the kid who got him got bored with him and threw him out, then the bully kids found him with the trash, etc.  Mary offers him a home with her and Loli, which Ironhide happily accepts.

But as the trio walk home, the mysterious cloaked woman appears, perching on the playground equipment and watching as they leave.

Imagine being in one of those apartments and you look down and see this.

This might seem like the natural end of the episode but NO, it jut keeps going!

The next day Mary runs into a classmate, literally, in her hurry to get to school.  She knocks over the other girl, whose name is Shelly.  I think Shelly is meant to be from a wealthy family, because a driver who calls her “Miss Shelly” is dropping her off instead of of her mom or dad.  

At the very least, she is more self-possessed and less anxious than Mary, who apologizes profusely.

The two girls continue on to class--unaware that Mary’s math notebook has fallen out of her backpack.

As class president kid (Sean) collects the math assignment, Mary realizes her notebook is missing and freaks out. The show does a really good job of capturing that feeling of panic!  I really felt for Mary.

To make matters worse, the class Mean Girl loftily says that Mary is a liar who didn’t do the assignment.  Mary says she DID do it, nearly in tears, and Mean Girl says she’s too stupid to complete it.  (Ironically, Mean Girl didn’t do her own assignment, instead using her popularity to pressure a different kid into doing it for her.)

She’s like a debonaire version of Gary Oak and I love to hate her.  I hope we see more of her.

Then the teacher comes in and Sean (class president kid) gives him the assignments, mentioning that Mary is still looking for hers. Sean but he doesn’t seem malicious, just super serious. Like Joe from Digimon but without the anxiety.

The teacher, however, IS malicious and angrily demands that Mary come to the front of the class.  But his character model still has big doe eyes which kind of ruins the effect . . . 

And that’s our cliffhanger!  Dun dun DUN!

[the-coffee-story]

Rise of the Forest God

Chapter 5 - Wesley and Alice

Violet was hyperventilating, weakly holding her head in her hands, Doc and Coffee were trying their best to calm her down while Thasfield was talking to the cops, who didn't seem particularly cheerful about the fact that they had to work with him. October and Walther were standing on the slightly more overgrown side of the clearing, silently observing the crime scene, patiently waiting for some way to be of use.

"Well, at least the victim is identified now," Walther quietly remarked. Sometimes October marveled at the fact that they'd grown so desensitized to gore within a few years. He, on the other hand, was sometimes rather thankful he couldn't see the crime scenes. Thank you, Matthew. He grinned a little when he noticed the sentence had a rhyme in it.

Suddenly a slight noise caught October off-guard.

Light, clumsy footsteps, followed by the small rustle of yellowing leaves, hidden within the thick vegetation that littered the darkening landscape. October blindly turned his head towards the loose direction of the noise, and stopped, listening for any further disturbance.

A crack of a twig, with more restless rustling following soon after. And then, another crack. Popping joints that sounded almost painful in their intensity.

October listened intently and narrowed his eyes. The sounds were coming closer.

And then suddenly, when he heard a soft breath just right next to himself his arm lunged into the bushes and he grabbed someone's wrist.

He heard a terrified gasp and pulled the stranger out of their hiding place. Walther next to him spun around. "Wha-"

"Hey guys, look what I found!", October proclaimed. The unfortunate stranger caught in his grasp like a fish in a net quickly attempted to pull their arm away, as they were roughly yanked from the greenery and into the small clearing. Doc quickly came to October's aid and together they managed hold the frightened stranger down, preventing him from running off into the darkness.

"Who are you?", Doc asked. "What are you doing here?" The tall man October had just pulled from the bushes was trying to wriggle his arms free. He made no attempt to say a word.

Coffee watched the events from the other side of the clearing. He narrowed his light eyes and suddenly noticed the man wasn't trying to escape. He was trying to sign.

He ran over to the group holding him back and hastily tapped Doc on the shoulder. The pale redhead turned to him, fighting slightly to keep the man still. "What is it?"

"Let go of his arms for a moment. He's trying to sign!", Coffee signed. Doc's lilac eyes widened. "Ohh!" He turned to the messy-haired figure. "Is that true?"

The man hastily nodded. He was trembling in every limb.

"What's going on?", October asked, clinging to the guy's faded sleeve.

"Let go of his arm for a moment." Doc's voice was soft. "He's trying to sign."

"If y'all let him escape I'm not to blame." He murmured, and with that, October loosely let go and took a slight step back.

"Sorry for that, we overreacted," Doc apologized, awkwardly trying to help the trembling man to his feet.

The man took an unsure step forward, and into the brightly lit clearing. Now that his face wasn't hidden in the shadows anymore Coffee saw a glorious moustache, soft amber eyes and, even though the stranger was relatively young, snowy white curls.

"I'm Wesley," the peculiar figure signed. He anxiously stumbled over words, looking up at the darkening sky for a brief moment. "W......Wesley Sallow."

"What are you doing here?", Coffee signed.

Wesley was about to answer when they all heard a crack in the bushes.

"Are we in New York or what?", October mumbled. "How many more people are hiding in the bushes?!"

Wesley?", they heard a rough female voice call out.

"Looks like we're about to be joined by someone else," Doc remarked.

Suddenly a silhouette appeared in the tall bushes. Heterochromatic eyes glinted in the light of the flashlights and grey hair framed a sharply cut face. Then the woman hurried onto the clearing.

"I was terrified, where have you been?!" She gently brushed the soft, marble white curls from his face and loosely glanced over him, making sure he was ok.

Doc cleared his throat and straightened out his back, and with an inwards sigh, the woman glanced up towards him and stepped back, keeping Wesley within her line of sight. "Right. Sorry I walked right into a murder scene."

Now that her face wasn't obscured by shadow, Coffee realized she was older than he'd first assumed. Sixty maybe, perhaps even seventy, at a push. He wasn't good at guessing ages. Her sharply cut face was wrinkled, and a faded, rosy scar snaked over the bridge of her Roman nose.

"Uh, we're going to have to briefly interrogate you and your friend ma'am," Walther told her after exchanging an awkward glance with the rest of the team, who seemed to be equally as bewildered.

The woman straightened up and cocked a brow. She was wearing a faded black leather jacket, worn with age. "And why'd that be?"

"I mean..." Walther gesticulated towards the body laying in the middle of the clearing. "Gruesome murder, y'all suddenly pop up from the bushes, I think you get the point, aye?"

"Aye." She nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Your name?" Thasfield quickly took pen and notepad out of his pocket.

"Alice Wyndham."

He turned to Wesley. "What was yours again?"

"Wesley Sallow," the young man nervously signed, seeming hasty and anxious to leave. He begun to tap his feet on the ground gently, fidgeting on the spot.

"Wesley Sallow," Doc translated for Thasfield, who hastily scribbled it down. "What were you doing here in the woods?"

"I was looking for Wesley."

"I was going for a walk."

"At midnight?" Thasfield mumbled, a hint of sarcasm lining his voice, as he glanced up and raised an eyebrow.

Wesley stared down at his dusty white trainers, shyly. "I have photosensitivity," he finally signed. "So I go for walks at night. It's easier on my eyes, and I find the peacefulness of it easier to cope with."

"I saw the police from my farm," Alice explained. "And got nervous."

"Why?", October asked.

"Okay, look, do you think cops and neurodivergency mix well?" Alice raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, no."

"Bingo." Alice nodded.

"You're unusually calm about the murder," Doc remarked.

"Google The Cult of the Forest God." Alice waved it off. "I've seen that kind of stuff before."

Doc sighed. "Alright. May I get your phone number?"

"Of course."

***

As they begun to drift away from the crime scene, Violet still suppressing dry sobs, Sean absentmindedly reached into his pocket, and felt a piece of paper that hadn't been there before.

He pulled it out in the van and narrowed his eyes trying to read it in the flickering moonlight.

Meet up tomorrow at sundown by the old oak in the field? — Xoxo, Finbar ♥