#The Most Fun Here Was Painting the Golden Gate Bridge

[mumpsetc]

I Clung To You in Hopes We'd Both Drown

[nataliedanovelist]

GF & MvsM - Wanna Talk About Dinos?

This crossover was inevitable. It just works too well. Maybe one day i’ll write a fic about how the folks at Gravity Falls handled the robot-apocalypse. Probably shrugged it off. “Eh. We’ve had worse.” Haha! What if Stan and Ford, cuz they were out sailing, had no clue what happened and when they came back they were like, “Wait, what?”

For now, please enjoy this fic of Aaron making a new friend...

(credit goes to @stephreynaart for her OC Jacob) ~~~~~~~~~~ “Hi, would you like to talk to me about dinosaurs?”

Aaron asked this question more times than he could keep track of, but that wasn’t going to stop him from asking it. It started as a dare from his big sister two years ago, but now it’s a fun hobby. When fifth grade isn’t overwhelming him, scaring him with mountains of homework and horror stories about how hard middle school is going to be, and when he’s run out of YouTube videos to catch up on, he is on the hunt for fellow giant-lizard-lovers like a hungry Ceratosaurus.

“No, okay bye.” But it did get a little tiring to always cross out names and phone-numbers on the phone book with red ink. Hey, a dinosaur of a way to find phone-numbers was appropriate. He read the next number, dialed it, and after a ring or two he asked, “How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs? No, okay thank you.”

Aaron crossed out another name and sighed, taking a break since he reached the end of a line of numbers. Maybe he should just be grateful for Abbey and accept that no one else wants to talk about the Jurassic Period. Or the Cretaceous Period. Or the Triassic Period. But then a big, old, gray-tinted ad distracted him. He grinned, thinking it would at least be fun to give them a call, and he dialed the number.

Private home phone-numbers were fun, but businesses were also fun! Poor, bored workers would gladly talk to him rather than crabby Karens, and they got paid for it! So Aaron smiled as the phone rang, and he grinned when someone picked up.

“Thanks for calling the Mystery Shack, you’re talking to Mr. Mystery himself! How may I befuddle or bewilder you?”

“Hi! How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs?”

“Oh, dude! I’d love to, but I’m scheduled for a tour of the Oddity Museum in three minutes.” The man said, and Aaron grinned continuously, because it sounded like Mr. Mystery really wanted to talk with him about dinosaurs. “But hey! Can you hold on for one minute, I think I know a guy!”

“Yeah, sure mister!” And Aaron was greeted by the sound of a catchy jingle about buying t-shirts and mugs and snowglobes. He smiled and wiggled his feet along to the music as he looked outside at the beautiful late-fall afternoon, entertained while he waited.

~~~~~~~~~~

Soos was on the hunt. He planned out the house in his head. Abuelita was taking a nap upstairs, Melody was organizing the upcoming tour, and Stan took Jacob out for ice cream, so he might be…

The owner of the Shack grinned when he stopped at the doorway and saw the man he was looking for, sitting in Stan’s chair, reading a book.

“Uncle Ford!”

The old sailor smiled up at the young man. “Yes, wh-...”

“Do you think you could answer the phone for me? I have a tour and I think this customer’s request is right up your alley.”

“Uh… sure, but w-...”

“Thanks, you’re the best!” And Soos was gone before he could address Ford’s confusion.

Ford was a bit lost, having little to no business with business, but he had learned at this point to trust Soos, so he picked up the phone beside him and was immediately greeted with a sweet, “How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs?”

Ford grinned and closed his book. “I would love to! All three periods are equally as fascinating to study, but the Triassic contains some of my favorite dinosaurs!”

A young voice gasped on the other line. “Mine, too! Everyone thinks the Jurassic period is so great, and it’s pretty cool, but the Triassic gave us Plateosaurus and the Brachiosaurus!”

“That’s very true! You know, it’s very interesting, maybe depictions don’t include feathers at all, which is a bit frustrating, but perhaps after the news has spread they will incorporate more feathers on merchandise and textbooks.”

“YES! That’s what I wanna do when I grow up, help draw better-accurate dinosaurs!”

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang on Sunday. The Shack was closed today, so Stan lazily answered it and was greeted with, “Wanna talk about dinosaurs?”

“Sixer, phone for you!”

Ford ran into the living room, elbowed his twin out of the chair, and took the phone. “Hello again, Aaron! Now, where were we? Right, so Australopithecus. … No, I don’t think… Oh! No, homo habilis was erect, Australopithecus was never fully erect.”

“Maybe he was nervous.” Stan groaned, getting to his feet.

Ford shot him a look as thankfully the young boy on the other end didn’t catch that and happily shared some more fun-facts about homo habilis.

~~~~~~~~~~

While most college students were excited for Spring Break so they could get drunk or lose their virginity, Katie was excited because her family had planned a special secret roadtrip. She was careful to keep up with her family and talk to her parents and brother frequently, but Aaron had a hobby he wasn’t talking about that his parents found out and were thrilled about. Aaron had made another friend.

Rick and Katie did some research and the tourist attraction sounded right up their alley! In the middle of the woods, tons of weird stuff, and a fun roadtrip filled with diners and attractions. They decided to surprise Aaron, and they made up a lie that they would spend Spring Break in California with Katie so she could show her family around San Francisco, when in actuality they would be traveling up the state to the Redwood Highway and see the oddity place, and maybe even allow Aaron to meet his new pen-pal. Or, um, phone-pal.

So after bombarding Katie with hugs the Mitchells threw her luggage into the car and drove off. Aaron turned to Katie and excitingly asked, “So where are we going first? Can we go fix the Golden Gate bridge by painting it gold?”

Katie laughed and ruffled his hair. “Maybe later, right now I wanna show you guys this fun store right outside of town. Here, check out the videos I made for my classes!” And she pulled out some airpods and gave one to Aaron.

“Cool!”

Rick and Linda smirked at each other as they drove north. By the time they reached a little diner in Redding, CA, it was very clear to Aaron that they weren’t in San Francisco anymore. “Come on, just tell me where we’re going!” The boy begged as he fed Monchi a fry.

“The best kind of prizes are the surprises.” Linda quoted.

“Eric, Deborahbot5000, where are we going?”

“Sorry, Aaron, we cannot give that information.” Eric said, he and the other robot sitting politely in their seats, happy to be a part of the social interaction.

“Yes, Mother will bury us if we disobey.” Deborahbot said matter-of-factly.

“What?! No I won’t, sweeties.”

“Won’t you ground us?”

The family laughed and Aaron let the topic go; if he was honest, he loved a good surprise. The big family stopped in a motel just at the California-Oregon border, and the next morning after muffins and coffee and orange juice they were on the road again, passing dozens of trees that made Rick feel at home. Katie happily recorded the trip, trusted to be the documenter for another fun roadtrip, with hopefully not as much mortal peril.

Aaron watched as they left the highway for a simple road, and they passed a big sign. The boy gasped and caught what was happening. “No WAY! Really?!”

“You know, I hear this Mystery Shack even has a Sasquatch.” Rick commented while Linda pulled out a pamphlet from the glove box.

“It says here it’s full of odd things you’ll never see anywhere else, even a dinosaur footprint…”

“Wasn’t there a rumor of there being a Bottomless Pit?” Katie asked, pointing her camera at Aaron to get his reaction.

“Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!!” Aaron cheered, hugging his Dad’s neck and kissing his Mom’s cheek.

“Hey, no worries, buddy.” Rick eased, fixing his shewed glasses. “We wanted to see this place, too!”

“Why don’t we eat a quick lunch and then we’ll take the backroad for the attraction? There’s a coupon in here for a diner made from a giant log!”

And so after being served by a pretty blonde teenager at Greasy’s, they drove through town to get to the backroad. Signs made them confident that they were going the correct way, as well as Eric and Deborahbot5000’s GPS. Then as they turned a corner, a big triangle-shaped building came into view. Aaron grinned at the giant sign with a missing letter. People were already leaving, arms full of souvenirs and one or two already wearing their new hats or t-shirts. Once Rick parked in the Free Parking Lot, Aaron spilled out of the car and ran for the shack, but he stopped.

Katie caught up to him and patted his back. “You cool, man?”

Aaron shrugged, holding his hands in front of him and his shoulders up to hide his face a bit. “I-I dunno… What if… What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Hey, I get it.” Katie admitted. “When I first met my friends I was really nervous. I had talked to them online for weeks and I was worried it wasn’t gonna be what it was all cracked up to be, but it was. Your system worked! You found another dino-lover! You earned this moment. Just take in a deep breath and be yourself, cuz you’re a pretty cool dude.”

Aaron smiled up at his big sister. “Thanks.”

Trusting Eric and Deborahbot5000 to watch Monchi and make sure he used the bathroom, the Mitchells went inside the shack. On the porch there was an ice cooler, a sign reading schedule times for tours of the Oddity Museum, a Help Wanted sign, and two rocking chairs with a game of checkers between them.

Inside the store a few customers filled up the gift shop, alongside t-shirts, snowglobes, a vending machine, a door beside ti that read Employees Only, a bookshelf full of comic on one side and old newspapers claiming alien sightings on the other, a fish tank holding a monkey-mermaid, and barrels full of spaceship keychains and dino claws. A new section called Camping Stuff caught Rick’s eye, selling backpacks, lanterns, flashlights, batteries, canteens, and compasses. Katie opened a comic called Lil’Stanley and laughed at the swears, taking a pic and sending it to her friends’ group chat. Linda looked into the barrel full of patches and grinned at all the fun designs, while Aaron stared happily at the mer-monkey.

The Employees Only door opened and closed and Rick watched as a man in a suit, fez, and eyepatch walked up to the lady at the register and kissed her cheek. The woman smiled lovingly and left while the guy who resembled a gopher checked a customer out. Rick waited until the buyer left to approach the register, leaning an arm on the counter.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, dude!”

“Thanks! So, this is gonna sound weird, but my son Aaron talks to a guy here about dinosaurs…”

“No way!” The owner interrupted excitedly. “Good to see you, dudes! I’m Mr. Mystery! Wow, you guys came a long way, huh?”

“Nah, only from California. My daughter is attending art school there.”

While the men chit-chatted and Linda joined them, Katie noticed a guy walking up to Aaron and looking at the mer-monkey. She smiled and tried to read the comic without being too nosy, but she kept her senses on her brother.

“Hm, quite fascinating, isn’t it?” The man in the blue hoodie said. “But I think my favorite is the fossilized footprint. Could be Nanuqsaurus hoglundi.”

“The Polar Bear Lizard?” Aaron clarified, touching his chin as he looked at the dino-print, his back to the man he was talking to. “Maybe, but they’re from Alaska. It’s possible plate tectonics did cause some fossils to be relocated here, but it could also be a Nanotyrannosaurus lancensis footprint.”

“The Dwarf Tyrant? Could very well be. Would you like to talk about dinosaurs after your tour?”

Aaron’s eyes widened as the voice was finally familiar to him. He turned and looked up to find an old man smiling up at him. He had fluffy gray hair with a white stripe running around his scalp, wrinkles by his eyes due to smiling, a cleft chin, glasses, and wore a blue hoodie with a maroon sweater underneath. His hands were behind his back and he smiled down at Aaron warmly, while the boy was jittery and overly-excited. He took in a sharp breath and had to fight every muscle to keep from leaping through the screen door. 

“H-H-Hi…” He peeped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Y-Yeah, sure! I’d love to! I’m Aaron! Er, wait, you already knew that.” And he held out a hand to shake.

His phone-pal, Ford, chuckled and got on one knee to be eye-level. “Greeting, Aaron! It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Aaron shook his hand and noticed something. He had six fingers on his right hand. A quick glance told Aaron he also had six fingers on his left hand. Aaron grinned with sparkling eyes at his new friend, while the old sailor smiled warmly at the boy that reminds him of his niece and nephew when they were young.

[legolaslovely]

Helios and Morpheus

A/N: Here is my part of our collaboration for the Durin’s Day Gift Exchange for @linane-art ! Thank you for brainstorming with me and being so supportive and patient. You made this even more exciting than I thought it would be, and let me tell YOU, I was thrilled about it all in the first place. I hope you enjoy it. I am so excited to share it! :)

This is somewhat loosely based on Greek Mythology, AKA it’s an Alternate Universe! Rated Gen. Get ready for some LONGING and some FLUFF.

LOOOOOKKKKKKKK AT @linane-art​ ‘s ARTTTT LOOOOOK AT THE PERFECT BOYSSS!!!! Thank you for giving us SUCH gorgeous works. 

The link for Fili is HERE!! And Kili is HERE!! Please go give @linane-art​ some love!!!!!!

Helios and Morpheus

Tell us of the impossible lovers, O Muse.  Those who defied Fates, Furies, and Almighty Zeus, Who found forever hidden in distance between, Paradise more perfect than Elysian serene.

Tell us of Helios, the God of Golden Sun Who rides in his chariot before night’s begun. His radiance shines as he watches and he waits For God of Dreams, Morpheus, to fly from his gates. 

Perfumed with his poppies and directives to spare, Roused only by his One with the rays in his hair, Morpheus stars in dreams prophetic and divine, Telling his love in sleep, “You are mine, you’re all mine.”

One alone rules the day as sky’s singular light. Another’s domain lies in the darkness of night. As stubborn as star-crossed, fierce as Cronus, they were, Bridging the cosmos for a love that was most sure.

Book I

To those below and above, he was known as Morpheus. To those around him, however- to his parents and his brothers, the Oneiroi- he was Kíli. To himself, he was a dreamer.

One could suppose that’s how it all began.

From very early on in his eternal life, he was known around the cosmos for his talent of deceit. But the true-hearted Kíli only deluded with his physical appearance. With a bit of concentration and a blink of time, he could shift from his godlike form into any other imaginable. Those below often said that no other was more skilled than he in representing the gait, the features and the speech of men, but little did they realize, Kíli could manifest as much more. Truthfully, he just thought the world of men had very tiny imaginations, even in their dreams. 

And so, his talents were put to use. Zeus commended him and dubbed him the leader of the dream makers, called the Oneiroi. He was to spend his nights flying through the world of men, delivering messages from the gods to their pupils through their dreams. Instead of using his skills for amusement, for playing pretend and hiding from his brothers, Kíli- Morpheus- would exhaust himself and his power by playing messenger boy for the King of the Gods.

Still, Kíli learned to have his fun. 

You see, though Kíli was explicitly told what message to send to whom, the how was entirely up to him. He could morph into a towering cyclops and poke the belly of his recipient until he listened. He could make a pit stop in the sweetest dream of the prettiest semi-divine woman and make her fall in love with him just before night’s end. He could even visit Hades to make ghost children into brave soldiers, or Hephestus to take a lesson in sword forging. As long as he delivered his messages on time, he had the power to do whatever he wanted.

But it all ended with the rosy-fingered dawn.

Every night had its end. For others, that was a hopeful thought, even a prophetic one, but for Kíli, it just meant he’s run out of time. His freedom was stripped away by the clouds painted orange. For a long while, some thousands of years, he stomped back through his gates like a tantrum struck child, furious at his forced time-out. He’d grunt at the guards and leap over the Rivers of Forgetfulness and Oblivion, and lock himself in his cave to sleep among the poppy seeds until he received the orders for his next outing.

In the recent millennia, however, he’d been risking everything to hide behind the lock of his ivory gate and watch the black night sky lift and glow indigo, then violet. He’d wait to see the golden chariot cross the cosmos, pulling aside the curtain of night to reveal the bright blue day behind it. He’d heard the stories all his life. He knew what happened in the universe that took his time away from him and turned it into day. But he only recently saw the phenomenon for himself and since then, he never wanted to miss the show.

It wasn’t the glittering coat or glistening mane of the thundering horse that he was interested in. It was the one inside the solid gold chariot that first caught his eye. It was Helios, God of Sun, he wanted to watch because, though he was almost blinded by the sunny halo every morning, Kíli was sure Helios was smiling at him.

Book II

Helios was happy. Though others often wondered how he could be.

Those above pitied him for his status. It was unjust for the God of Sun- the deity of something as important as creation, light, and life- to be considered a minor god. He would never see the world below from the peak of Mount Olympus. He couldn’t watch the measly humans through the silver, puffy clouds. Sure, he had his own clouds to peer through way up there on his own throne, but they weren’t as pretty as the ones that surrounded Mount Olympus. Not at all. Helios only had regular clouds. What a shame.

It may have been that those below pitied him even more than the Olympians. Helios was alone. Yes, he had power, eternal youth and breathtaking beauty, but he’d never share any of it with anyone. How sad! To spend the light of day watching the world below, only to be so distant from it. Poor, lonely Helios.

Solitary and depressed, but never forgotten. For who could forget the sun?

In return for his service and out of their pity, the gods above gave him the most beautiful land to shine on and watch over. Artemis kept her trees tall and her meadows vast so long as Helios kept them green. Demeter graced the farmlands, encouraging crops to grow up to the light of his rays. Even Poseidon, grateful for the glimmer of warmth Helios left on his sea, returned the favor and controlled his waves whenever the halo of sun crossed the sky at day’s end.  And sometimes, Zeus would throw some thunderbolts and give Helios a day of rest when he especially deserved it after weeks and weeks of impeccable radiation.

Helios was the only being who couldn’t understand the world’s view of him. Between those generous gifts from the higher gods and the worship and prayers from the humans below, how could Helios ever be unhappy? In his opinion, he had it made. 

Because he was a minor god, he didn’t have to deal with the problems of Olympus. He was glad the fabricated kidnappings, adulterous adventures, and cannibal snacking rituals were kept way over there on that mountain and his warm, serene hours were spent way over here on his very own throne. He shined his brightest on his own. 

Still, that didn’t mean he disliked watching the humans from afar. On the contrary, he adored them.

He smiled down on them as they wept in his name. He peeked through the dreary, grey clouds and gave them warmth as they built his temples stone by stone. Attentively, he watched as they danced and sang for him, begged him for his blessings and thanked him for his creation. In their words, he was gracious. He brought joy to mortals. Again, their words, not his.

He was given all this simply for being beautiful. He was pure light. He ruled the sky for thousands of years and was grateful, never wanting any change.

Then, as randomly as an autumn leaf falls to the ground, his lands brought him something new. Or rather, someone. As Helios crossed the sky and brought the dawn, he looked down on his endless estate and spotted this someone watching him. It was not a farmer, nor a thief or human forced to wake before the day. 

Instead, it was clear this Dark One enjoyed the night. He stood unshrinking from the black sky and smiled at Helios, clearing any blame for his bringing the sun. This someone, this Dark One was happy to make his sacrifice to Helios- a ritual the Sun God had never enjoyed until now. Now, it was a gift.

Never in his eternal life had Helios pulled on his steed’s reins to slow the sunrise. It wouldn’t work. His chariot would plow on with its duty with time warping speed, never paying a hair’s attention to the Dark One in the shadows. There was no time. Dawn must come.

With that, Helios crossed the sky, eventually losing sight of his someone below. When he leapt from the gold to gold, from the chariot to his throne, he searched for the Dark One, but his own light stole the shadows and his someone was nowhere to be found. His passing eras slowed to hours. During the time of his reign, he watched the humans find Aphrodite, Hestia, and Hera and when the night came, he himself found his Dark One waiting for him every morning.

Book III

Morpheus had the ability to enter the dreams of any and all. He could punish the dastardly with nightmares so garish and haunting, his victims would change their ways in the morning. Or he could gift the selfless with visions of peace and profit, the lonely with companionship, or the sick with health. Over the span of his existence, he’d delivered messages and prophecies to billions- humans and gods alike.

Tartarus, he could even sneak into Zues’ dreams and feel the power of the King’s Thunder if he felt like it. But Kíli valued his immortality too much for such a thing.

Bottom line: Kíli could visit all who dreamed. Which was everyone. Or so he thought.

It was really just his luck that the one he so wanted to meet- and even eavesdrop on if Kíli was honest- was out of his reach. Contrary to popular belief, the sun never slept and neither did the god who powered it. 

He didn’t understand why. What did Helios have to do during the night? Where did the Sun God even go when darkness came? Wasn’t there time for the Golden One to rest?

Kíli was determined to find out.

When darkness came on the Winter Solstice, the longest night, Kíli flew as fast as he could to the dreamers through the lower lands. He delivered a curse here, and a revelation there. Then, dressed in his best disguises, he climbed up to Mount Olympus to greet the two gods he was meant to visit. His foretellings were clear and concise. There was no time for any mix ups or confusions which, despite Kíli’s best intentions, were a common occurrence with drowsy recipients. 

After all his duties were finished, he tumbled down to his gate with time to spare. There, hanging onto the delicately etched ivory pillars, he waited alone. The night hours he so treasured ticked slowly past- slower than ever before. More than once he leapt from the ground, wings waving and flapping when he was sure he saw a speck of light coming from the east. But he realized his eyes were only playing tricks on him in his anticipation, and eventual boredom.

Still, he didn’t leave his post.

The sky remained dark for so long, Kíli was sure he’d gone blind trying to make the smallest stars into the golden halo he longed to see. He wondered why nothing was happening, why the blanket above wasn’t lifting to indigo, then violet in preparation for Helios. Had something happened to the Golden One? 

He panicked. 

It was unbelievable. 

For ages, Kíli wished for eternal night and cursed the morning Sun, and now all he wished for was the scalding rays to burn his skin. He’d welcome such a painful end if he could see the Sun God one last time.

Then, there was light. 

Real light, nothing Kíli’s eyes or drowsy mind could create. This was it.

His waving wings let him hover just above the ground, his bare toes dipping into the tall grass. He had to be careful, he had to time it right if he wanted a chance to speak to Helios as he crossed the sky and brought the dawn. If his actions weren’t perfect, his flesh would sizzle and leave his bones unsheltered to melt in a matter of seconds. Helios’ light was his end. So he must stay in the shadows.

After such darkness, Kíli could only see a white blur crossing the sky, but after years and years of watching the sunrise, he knew well how Helios’ shining steed cut through the night like a rapier. He raced up to meet it, his every muscle jolting in tandem to flap his wings with enough speed and precision to shoot him to a height that took his breath from his body. There, on the level, he waited.

That was his mistake.

The chariot barreled toward him with such graceful speed, its very own wind left Kíli reeling through the air.

       “What are you doing?” He heard.

He found his balance and his rhythm and darted from the heat on his back. It singed the very tip of his wing, but with the breeze of his flight, the fire and pain didn’t travel upwards. So he flew on, grabbing hold of the chariot’s edge.

       “No!”

Kíli realized, but it was too late. Of course the gold of the chariot would be as blazing as an open flame. He hissed in pain, but flew on until he matched Helios in his flight.

He called the Sun God’s name, letting it grace his lips for the first time. “Helios!”

       “Are you daft?” Helios cried, yanking on his reins with a force that turned his knuckles white, but the horse didn’t slow.

       “I’m Morpheus!”

Helios laughed. His eyes sparkled, glittering like the brightest stars in the sky, like the loudest, most dazzling thunderbolt Zues ever threw had been captured inside the golden head of this god.

Kíli knew Helios was beautiful. He knew of the creamy skin, the aureate halo, and the smile as curved and irresistible as cumulus clouds. But he didn’t know of the blue eyes. They struck him and slowed him down.

Still, before he burned, before he circled back and raced to his gates, flying through without a look back, he heard Helios yell something to him. He saw Helios smile at him, as he’d seen every morning for hundreds of years. But this time, his Sun was close enough to touch.

Book IV

Helios’ days were all the same. It was clockwork and routine- the paths he took to and from the farthest corners of Poseidon's ocean, how long the trek took, when and where he’d begin and end. He knew what he’d see along the way. There were never any surprises because nothing was ever different. 

At least that was the case until Morpheus loomed by his gate for the first time. His first appearance had been unusual and indeed gave Helios pause at first, but even that had become something expected after thousands of years of his Dark One’s presence. 

Morpheus flying to his chariot before dawn, however, that was unexpected. A surprise. Even a fright to Helios that jarred him like nothing else he’d ever experienced. It left him with so many questions. Helios wasn’t used to having any such thing. He was the Sun. He had all the answers. He was the steadiest thing in the cosmos. He was arguably the most dependable god.

But now that Morpheus had flown to him, Helios was unsure. He sat in his throne and glowed dimly over the day, diverting most of his energy to all the questions now crowding his headspace.

Why, he asked. 

He’d spent his eternity thus far watching all beings under his light. They were predictable. He was never surprised by their actions. And yet, Morpheus, God of Dreams, left him flabbergasted without a single answer as to why he’d risk his life to speak to a god in the opposite domain. What was the point? What did he want to say? Wasn’t he terrified?

But Helios’ most important question was: Had Morpheus heard him?

He hoped so. For when he wasn’t wondering and pondering, Helios was dreaming. Well, he guessed he was dreaming. He’d heard his humans talk about it in his temples, running to his altar after a night of his blessing their sleep and revealing himself to them in a vision. It was as if they’d truly seen the god, Helios, and had even spoken to him, though it was obvious such a thing was impossible. Helios never strayed from his post.

But he dreamed on with his eyes open and his rays shining. Just before his mind’s eyes were wings twice the size of Morpheus’ body and black as the fur of Cerberus. He even went inside his fantasy and touched the wings with his fingertips, leaving them with what he hoped was a pleasant warmth. As his dream Morpheus leaned into his touch, even closed his eyes to it, Helios’ halo shone ever brighter to the lands below. 

Then, as if clouds filled the sky, more questions would clog Helios’ mind and his rays would dim as he asked himself why.

So the day went on, sunlight ebbing and flowing until his steed grew agitated. Sparkling hooves stomped into the ground, the glistening tail swished and the impatient head bobbed, strong neck arching tight in anticipation. Dusk was approaching, as was Helios’ long ride. But even after his exhausting day, he leapt into his chariot, ready to work through until dawn when he’d see his Dark One again.

       “Come to me tomorrow,” he’d said. 

He hoped it with every glittering speck of himself.

The reflection of his chariot shimmered in the ocean below as he passed through the sky. His steed took him past mount Olympus and over the thatched roofs of Corinth, then Larissa. He passed wide meadows and gentle creeks, waiting patiently for the chance to fly over Morpheus’ gates. Though the Dream World spanned much of the Underworld, Helios knew exactly where the horn entrance would appear at the break of dawn. He knew where Morpheus would be. 

Morpheus.

It left the great Sun God trembling, for he was aware of the danger his Dark One faced. If all didn’t unfold perfectly, Morpheus would be no more. And it would be Helios’ fault. Even in all his uncertainty, he was sure of that.

Leaning over the side of his chariot, Helios kept his eyes glued to the ground. He stayed low, remained as dim and cool as he could without giving himself a mortal chill. He waited. All things familiar glowed underneath him until the horn gates of Morpheus’ Dream World glittered in his rays. But Morpheus wasn’t leaning on the post. Instead, he was already flying through the air to meet the chariot. Helios’ gut sunk.  His Dark One was wasting his energy. He should have waited! 

It was too late now.

As Helios’ golden horse loped on, quickly surpassing Morpheus’ own swift speed, Helios reached out with a cool hand and dragged his Dark One safely into the seat of his chariot. Then he slid to the opposite side, pulling his limbs as far from Morpheus as the chariot allowed.

The two gods stared at each other. Morpheus was squinting at him, even in Helios’ dim light.

       “You told me to come back to you,” Morpheus said. “You told me to return at dawn.”

       “Yes,” Helios said.

Morpheus scooted closer to him, moving his hand to the back ledge of the chariot to pull himself along. “Why-”

       “Don’t!” Helios cried, dragging his Dark One’s hands into his own. “Don’t touch the chariot. It will burn you.”

Morpheus latched onto him. “But you’re not burning me. How is that?”

      “It’s only dawn. My rays aren’t as powerful now.”

Morpheus was watching him through narrowed eyes, taking in his every feature as if he’d never seen another being before. Like he’d only ever dreamed them, and never actually saw or touched. It took every bit of Helios’ power not to shrink from his gaze. No one had ever looked so closely at the sun.

Morpheus reached for him and ran his icy fingers around Helios’ ear, tucking his shining hair around it. “You’re so warm.”

       “Sorry.”

       “No,” Morpheus was quick to say. “It’s pleasant. You feel wonderful.”

Just below them was the shore of the western ocean. Dawn would soon pass into full morning. They didn’t have much time.

       “Why did you come? It was dangerous for you,” Helios said. He shifted in his seat to shelter Morpheus from the light creeping up to his back. They were close now, closer than any two opposing gods had ever been.

       “I’ve spent so long in the shadows,” Morpheus said. “I wanted to feel your light.”

Helios grinned. Everyone in the cosmos wanted to feel the light of the sun. But he’d keep himself from all the world, he’d let it all freeze over if it meant he could safely shine on his Dark One for the rest of his eternity. Just for a moment, he leaned closer to imagine what it would feel like.

       “I wanted to see you, but you don’t sleep!” Morpheus said, bumping the tip of his nose to Helios’ cheek. He jerked away and hissed, rubbing his sizzling face. “You heat up quick,” he laughed.

       “You must leave,” Helios said with a wince. “I can’t slow the dawn.”

       “I know. But here, take this.” Morpheus reached to the nape of his neck and untied the sticky stem of a single poppy from his hair. He placed it in Helios’ hand and folded his fingers around it. “Tomorrow when the moon rises, I want you to smell this. It’s one of mine. Bring it up to your nose and take a deep breath. Think of me and I will come to you in your dreams.”

       “I’ve never dreamt anything before. I’ve never even slept.”

Morpheus reached for him, but stopped himself before he could touch Helios’ scalding skin. He closed his eyes to the blinding shine. “Then I’ll fly to your chariot every day at dawn.”

       “No. It’s not safe for you.” The poppy was wilting in Helios’ hand without its maker. “I’ll do as you said. As long as you will come to me.”

       “I swear it. There’s no place else I’d rather be.” One eye creaked open and Morpheus smiled before it clamped shut again. “You sure are bright.”

       “You must go.”

His black wings rose above the chariot and opened like wide wooden doors before Morpheus blindly leapt from Helios’ side and dove to his gates. There, he disappeared before Helios’ own rays could burn his flesh.

As the Sun God was delivered to his throne, he held tight to his poppy and dreamed with his eyes open about what the night would bring.

Book V

It was rumored Morpheus’ wings had the strength of a thousand soldiers. Though the feathers were lush and silky, the arching bones crowning the tops- extensions of his own spine- were not to be trifled with. How else would he fly through the cosmos from city to city and even to Mount Olympus to deliver himself to the dreams of his recipients? The wings were so robust, so legendary, and yet his flight was as silent as an owl’s, for what good were they if they woke his dreamers? 

Tonight, however, his wings were still. He had his scroll, his list of messages to deliver and beings to visit, but instead of rushing out of his gates to tend to his duties, he stood just past the lock to his Dream World. For the first time in his endless existence, he didn’t know where to go. 

His most important dreamer didn’t have a regular resting place. As far as Kíli knew, Helios traveled in his chariot all through the night, distributing his light around the universe. It would be impossible to pinpoint his exact location, never mind catch up with the soaring chariot. The only thing Kíli could do was wait to be summoned.

Still, Kíli couldn’t even be sure Helios would be able to dream, or even sleep for that matter. His poppies worked wonders on ailing humans, but he’d never offered one to a god before. It was forbidden by Zues. As was his and Helios’ affair. He knew they were treading a very dangerous path.

Usually, Kíli would be terrified of Zues. He would hide in the shadows of his Dream World, only emerging from it to take orders from the King of the Gods. He’d take his notes with his head down and wings wilted, never quite looking the Maker of Thunder in the eye. Every interaction made him quiver down to his soles.

Now, however, with Helios in his sights, he wasn’t scared. It was as if he had a secret weapon that left him powerful and fearless against anyone who stood in the way of him finding his very own Sun. Nothing mattered beyond his One who glowed and lit up the sky, bringing hope to all in his domain. Kíli felt that now.

So he stood at his gates, daring Zues to threaten him or his love and hoping with every inch of himself that his poppy would work. He waited for Helios’ call.

He closed his eyes to listen.

The wind rustled in the grass and tickled his feet. A cat yowled in the dark. The warm stuffy silence of night muddled his mind. 

Then all was clear. When he opened his eyes, Helios was in his arms, asleep.

His plan had worked.

As expected, the Sun God was warm. Kíli had felt this kind of residual heat before when he entered the dreams of sleeping humans who were wrapped up in too many quilts during the night. However, this kind of warmth wasn’t so oppressive. Instead, it was a balmy comfort that washed over his lap and up his arms. Kíli, the God of Dreams who only came out at night, was feeling the Sun for the first time.

Meanwhile, Helios, who never slept and never left his post, conquered his fears and did so for Kíli. He was peaceful. The poppy had worked and it had given him rest. That knowledge only added to the rush Kíli was feeling in his chest as he pulled Helios closer, protecting him, lest he regret placing his trust in his Dark One. 

Though Helios was not shining, not even glowing, Kíli was still stunned by his beauty. It wasn’t dull or dimmed in the night, but magnified. This close and without his rays, Kíli could see his true beauty- the lines in his lips from his own heat and those around his eyes left by his gleaming grin. Even now, in sleep, Helios smiled and Kíli didn’t miss the dimples in his cheeks and how the left one was deep enough to cradle the tip of his forefinger. 

Kíli took this chance to touch the god, not to take advantage of him, but to appreciate him while there was time to be had, while he was unwatched. He ran his fingers through the silky golden hair, down the strong neck and over the proud, smooth shoulders. It electrified him like the night air never could. Then, after what felt like hours of staring and contemplation, Kíli even dared to kiss his Sun’s head. His lips lingered over the warm skin as he held Helios tight to his chest.

With that, Helios sighed. “Where am I?” he asked, working to focus his gaze on the one above him.

       “You are in the arms of Morpheus,” Kíli said, smiling down on him. “Which is to say, you are asleep.”

       “Morpheus.” Helios wriggled closer, wrapping his arms around any part of Kíli he could reach. “If this is a dream, then let it never end. There’s nowhere else I wish to be.”

Kíli hummed. “You’ve come over to the dark side then, hm?”

       “If that’s where you are, yes. I’ll follow you there.”

Like most things in the world of the gods, Kíli’s flowers affected all beings differently. He was happy enough that Helios had fallen asleep at all, so he couldn’t blame the virgin dreamer for his honeyed state. If Kíli was honest with himself, he didn’t at all mind his Sun’s sweet words, though he knew they were coaxed out by the power of his poppy.

Helios sighed again. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

       “You’re quite the romantic in your dreams,” Kíli said.

Helios grinned. It was bright enough to make Kíli’s heart soar, but not to blind him as it had when they shared the sky. 

       “Have I won you over, then?” Helios asked.

       “Do you think I’d risk my life just to speak with you if you hadn’t already?”

       “Twice!” Helios said with a wagging finger. “You did it twice.”

       “Yes, I did. And I’ll do it again every morning hence if it will allow me the privilege of holding you again.”

The Sun God let his head flop on Kíli’s arm. “Now who’s playing the romantic?”

Kíli would do anything to see those blue eyes more clearly, but as Helios talked on, his lids fluttered shut, lashes feathering against his cheeks.

       “I must have- had too much of the poppy. I did as you said, but the first… it didn’t do anything. I needed to see you, so I...” He laughed. “And now I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Kíli caressed his cheek. “It’s all right. You can relax, I’ll be here.”

Immediately, the Sun turned to sand in Kíli’s arms, burying his forehead in his Dark One’s chest. Again, Kíli felt immeasurable pride. One of the most important beings in the cosmos allowed himself to be cradled and cared for by him. It made him return to his earlier wishes of wanting the night to last forever.

       “Morpheus-”

       “Call me Kíli.” He smoothed the line between Helios’ brows with his thumb as he explained, “It’s the name my mother gave me. Only when Zues gave me the Oneiroi, did he give me the name Morpheus as well.”

       “But that’s not who you are.”

       “No.”

Helios said his name. His real name. A lazy tongue flicked its way through the consonants and soft lips curled around the sounds with a smile. Then Helios said it again. “Kíli.” He leaned into Kíli’s night-cool touch that grazed the rounds of his golden cheeks and the cliffs of his thick brow. It rumpled as he said, “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t empower the sun. I’ve always been in the sky. Alone.”

       “Not anymore,” Kíli said.

Helios hummed and sighed and sank further into Kíli’s arms as if the disease of his loneliness- an ailment he never knew he had- was cured irrevocably. “Kíli. If you are Kíli, then I must be someone as well. Give me a name, Kíli.”

       “Your name is perfect just the way it is.”

He opened his eyes. “But it wasn’t given to me by anyone who matters.” For the first time, Helios reached up to Kíli and stroked his cheek. The touch was long overdue, but Kíli could forgive it because of the tenderness it evoked. He leaned into it, distantly listening as Helios continued. “Call me Fíli. Similar and yet opposite, just as we ourselves are. I’ll be your Fíli.”

Kíli snorted. “I should call you ‘Silly’ instead-”

He squeezed Kíli’s arm and chuckled. “Just give me this.”

Kíli wasn’t in a state to deny him anything. He’d fallen too far too quickly for such things. So he nodded.

       “Will you give me something else?”

       “Anything.”

Ever so gently, Helios- Fíli- led Kíli’s lips down to his own. Kíli gave him his kiss. In one moment everything between them changed. The cosmos parted and opened the way to a new universe of their own, one in which they could live in harmony and without fear, pain, or isolation. After millenia of giving- Fíli giving life and Kíli giving fantasy- they together stole it all for themselves. They gave each other the impossible. 

But Kíli felt himself begin to fade. 

Fíli held onto him like a stubborn serpent.

       “Don’t leave me,” Fíli said against his lips.

       “I won’t. It’s you who are leaving me.”

       “No.”

Kíli chuckled and his cool air blew over Fíli’s face, making him shiver. “It’s not your fault. You’re waking up.”

       “Stop me.”

       “I can’t. Not even you can slow the dawn. But we have forever now, Fíli.”

Fíli kissed him again. Even on the edge of his dream, the sun inside him was rising, leaving his flesh hot in Kíli’s arms. He would be untouchable in a matter of minutes.

       “Will you come to me again?”

       “Every night,” Kíli assured, risking his fingers to feel Fíli’s smoldering cheek once more. “And I will wait at my gates for you every morning.”

       “Not for too long, Kíli. I won’t have you scorching your wings again.”

       “You’re starting to sound more like yourself,” Kíli said with a scoff.

Fíli smiled. “I’m still your Fíli. And there’s still nowhere else I’d rather be than here in your arms. But you’re right, we both must go.” 

Yet Fíli’s only movement was to kiss his Dark One again. Then he watched until Kíli was a blur in the darkness.

Book VI

When Fíli opened his eyes, he was in his chariot. From the look of the waving blue mountains ahead, he could tell his nightly quest was about halfway through, meaning his trusted steed hadn’t even noticed his mind’s absence. After all, the horse knew the route as well as he did. It was an encouraging display that simultaneously left him bitter with disappointment. While it was made clear he’d be able to remain in Kíli’s Dream World for longer nights in the future, it only reminded him how short tonight’s visit had been.

He didn’t want to wait- not for the day to pass or even the night hours to fade before he could see his Dark One again from high above. But alas, even Zues himself suffered from such impatience for not even the King of the Gods could accelerate time. 

What did comfort Fíli, however, was Kíli’s love of the night. Though Fíli was bored by its boring darkness, his love- yes, his love- relished his freedom under the starry sky. It was his time to thrive. Fíli could imagine him, dream of him flying through the cosmos as he leaned back in the seat of his chariot. Maybe one night, the two would cross paths, he thought.

But when he wriggled down into his seat, something crunched. It set off a familiar smell. He reached up, startled to feel something in his own hair, and gently pulled at not one, but three poppies that were neatly tied and tangled together. Kíli must have left them in his golden waves just before he faded away from the dream. Rolling the stems in his fingers, Fíli smiled, bringing too high a dawn for the middle of the night. But he couldn’t help it. These were a promise from Kíli for more nights like this one in a universe of their own. 

They’d make a life for themselves in the short hours before dawn. Helios and Morpheus, known to only themselves as Fíli and Kíli, would love for eternity.

[talesofealdancynedom]

Corona Wintersleep, in fairy robes; Is she hiding to avoid her family, or just people annoying? You may not get an answer, because this is the comic relief episode.

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 5 -  Do Not Wait 5/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

menton of death and/or casual drug use

After the Battle in Celticia, Meriam had some nice peaceful years with her family. Feon and Edmond gave her a lot to think about, including the value of her daughter, husband and nephew. She felt lucky to be queen, and use magic peacefully, and watch over the magic forest city she had made with the Raven Gate. The harvests where good, and Francia retreated from the east boarder for the winter. Anglia enjoyed finally being safe at every other boarder. Yet, Meriam lusted for more; she wanted another adventure, and more allies. She suspected Francia may be bribing the Eastern and Southern nations, to aid in conquest; or reap their land. It was almost too quiet this season. Then one day, at a court meeting, the scribe translator read a letter from the Far South: Hispania. Hispania was so far away from the rest of Ealden Cynedom, that people knew nothing about it. All except Meriam, who read about a specific type of mage in one of Feon’s journals, and that the main magic forest in Hispania, belonged to the Fairy Gate. The thought of undiscovered magical scenery, gave her wanderlust once more.

           The Letter said that Hispania had fallen into civil unrest, as families instead of governments, tried to acquire mages to rise to power. Currently there was no consolidated government, causing the balance around the Fairy Gate to fall into corrupt hands. The Far South of Hispania had no care for the politics of other lands, and instead wanted advice; They had heard marvelous stories about the mage queen of the Grand West. And one family decided to contact her.

But Meriam’s king husband, and the other court members, had no interest in the Far South. It was a month’s journey away, and provided no trade or threat. But these things are meaningless to a mage. Outside her window, the Raven Gate was visible in the square. Meriam could travel alone through the shadow veil, to the Fairy Gate, all by herself. Time and distance were malleable in the veil, and mages could use gates, like fey, to travel between magic forests. But Meriam needed to know if the Fairy Gate was open, because if it was, that meant there was a mage. The men around Meriam rolled their eyes, as she rose her hand to hear the rest of the message.

“Our mage is a fair lady, unlike her kin. There are white marks about her wrists, and a heart with a sword marked on her chest. She is a mage that can heal with compassion; If only she could love. Her name is Corona Wintersleapen. She was bred and possessed by her family for power, and then ran away to the peak of the city. Inside the mouth of the halved mountain, is a lush jungle of wonder around the iced Fairy Gate. Corona’s darkened heart needs to be healed, so the city can prosper. She must belong to no one, and stop harming anyone who attempts to reach her. The city needs to access, coexist, and expand into the enchanted jungle. We believe your queen’s power, and achievements, make her the best person for the job.” The Messenger said. The translator gave a brief summery.  Then there was a bump under the table. Meriam and the king looked under, and Eatheltwein, their nephew, was eavesdropping on the courts with his canary.

“Eatheltwein Cynedom, we talked about this. You should be studying literature, not joining our table. I know you wish to be included as you enter manhood, but this is not your time. Off with you.” The King demanded. Eatheltwein slinked off like a scared dog. Leaving the court embarrassed and the messenger, scribe, and translator very confused.

“I will quickly use the gates to settle this matter. I want to be on good terms with every kingdom. I cannot bring my men, as the pure magic of the shadow veil petrifies commoners in it’s deprivation of the senses. Not to mind the presence of the beast kings. I will go alone in my fairy robes, wielding the unbreakable sword and bow. Care for our daughter and Eathel well.” Meriam said. She stood up and left before anyone could stop her. It had been a long time since she had an adventure; it made her giddy. Meriam almost had a skip to her step as she went to her study; And then she noticed someone was following her…

           Meriam walked into the shadow veil, through the black marble Raven Gate in the square. She entered the serene setting of black, white and grey. As she walked though a rough forest trail, no birds sang, or wind blew. The light almost refracting as it spilled through the canopy. Meriam did not look behind her, nor her familiar Nithen; yet she still sensed she had a follower. The shadow veil was not deterring them... Then Meriam crossed into the plains full of unicorn, and carnivorous mares. Then hiked through the rough terrain of the wolf kingdom, with cats of luck and moonlight, that hid in the brush. Only magic had colour here; fey, fairy robes, magic tools, and the eyes of those who wield it. Nearly at her destination, Meriam crossed a bridge of ice into the Fairy Kingdom, where the frosted trees echoed with the laughter of children, and everything glittered like diamonds and snow. Yet, her pursuer still walked behind her. Is it even a person? Why didn’t the shadow veil deter them?   She thought. As Meriam stood at the foot of a stone circle, engraved with the table of fours, she decided to look behind her. Meriam was taken aback: Eatheltwein stood gleaming with joy, admiring all the fairies, and the soothing atmosphere. This meant two things: firstly, Eathel was now her responsibility, and was in a world of trouble. Secondly, in order to be content in the ether of all magic, he must be a mage. Noticing the confused glare of his aunt, Eatheltwein nervously waved hello.

“Sorry Aunt Merry, the quest just sounded like a lot of fun. I’m tired of talking to trees in the court yard, and reading books about dead men. I Love you, and want to go on an adventure! Also, what is this place? It’s a bit odd isn’t it.” He smiled, looking around innocently.

           Realizing Eatheltwein was a mage, and that his canary was his familiar, Meriam decided to take the opportunity to teach him more magic. Something so powerful must be utilized wisely and safely. Eathel had developed a habit of sneaking into her magic study, and reading her mage journals, this whole time. His little familiar’s name was Viola, and she was quieter than Meriam’s kestrel familiar Nihten. Though a golden canary suited Eatheltwein well; he never shut up, and was very innocent, and showy. When the surprise faded, they all began to take the adventure as an opportunity to bond. With joy, they stepped through the Fairy Gate, and into the Mediterranean heat of Hispania. Eatheltwein coughed; he had come from right from a pleasant and crisp winter in Anglia.

The fairy gate was atop a large, forested, fey infested mountain. It was overlooking a city of white sandstone, painted vibrant colours. The tall houses had tall walls with small iron gates, and where like vibrantly painted stacked children’s blocks. The view in every clearing was spectacular. You could hear music, shouting, and singing echo up the mountain. It sounded like an undying fiesta. In Feon’s book, she said this place was called Torres de Calendulas; Meriam had no clue what that meant, she only knew there was a Meader mage wielding healing love magic here somewhere. If the message she received was accurate.

           Eathel’s company was pleasant. He helped search. There were no trails, just twisted trees with odd leaves, ripe fruit, and large colourful flowers. What odd tree children, they both thought; And so many pretty, shinny, colourful Phoenix’s, minor Roc’s, and cockatrices. There were also many nymphs in the trees, creeks, freshwater springs, and patches of sunlight they passed; yet no people. The magic forest was thick, and toughly filled with fey. The Fairy Gate itself was a wonder made of solid aquamarine, that looked like ice; Yet, it was nothing compared to its forest. As they searched, Meriam and Eatheltwein suddenly walked into a short Indigo cornfield. It gave way to a yard of colourful patches of perfectly square vegetable beds, making a garden in front of a perfectly square spackled house, with a blue roof. On the porch sat a man of tanned skin, and deep eye’s and hair. His hair was curled, and waved into a short low ponytail, and weaved with marigolds of various colours. He wore a loose cotton shirt with a deep neckline, and poofed sleeves, that were embroidered with pinstripes and wild patterns of vibrant colours which matched his tight pants. He was tuning a lute, and humming with the cicadas. Meriam had the most confused look on her face. Between the hallucinogenic fey, perfect garden, and this man’s outfit, she wondered if she had eaten something unusual before she left.

“Eatheltwein, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Meriam asked, in a mildly disturbed way.

“Oh my, It’s not just me! Thank the fjords! I thought I had eaten those mushrooms again…” Eatheltwein sighed. Meriam turned to look at him with a jerk; she made a gesture that suggested she had too many questions to actually ask them.

           Eatheltwein and Meriam were experiencing the special type of embarrassment that comes from walking into a stranger’s house, being offered a myriad of things, and not being sure what the socially acceptable thing to do is. The man talked in a monotone voice, with a slight cheer, and his face expressed no emotion, whilst still encapsulating a polite faux sense of enthusiasm. Like he might be in pain. He switched between old Anglian and old Hispanian, making him nearly incomprehensible. Meriam and Eathel were now eating what was probably chillies filled with cheese, and topped with a fried egg, inside a corn tortilla. The man starred at them with the same expression, while strumming is lute giddily. The unfamiliar notes not forming a coherent melody. They all made uncomfortable distressing prolonged eye-contact. Then the man started smiling. Meriam looked like she was in fear as the strings of melted cheese hung from her mouth and the iron skillet she shared with her nephew. Wait, it’s not iron… its copper?

“How is it dear visitors? I made it with my lady’s fine recipe; with golden goose eggs!” He said with a thick accent, and astrum of him lute. “She is a talented potion maker, and Heartmann mage.” He continued. The last part was in old Hispanian. Meriam started to cry. She had no idea what was going on. She had seen war, but this broke her.

“Aunty Merry, are you ok? I have concluded we actually may have shared some suspicious forest gatherings at the palace. But what luck! I love spending time with you. And to be in one of your adventures; This is fantastic! And this food, whatever it is, is disgusting in a way that makes me keep eating it.” Eatheltwein cheered. Meriam’s crying, now also contained a sort of gagging and laughter. Her mouth was still full of cheese. This was not her finest moment. Worse yet, this cabin bard, who was attending her fever dream, spoke in an incomprehensible fast language, and Meriam could not ask where the Meader mage, Corona, was. Then she recognized the word ‘Heortemann.’ She swallowed, and took some deep breathes, when she realized the walls were covered in paintings, potions, baking trays, and cookware. It was a gingerbread cottage, spackled like confetti cake. Eathel was now examining the large oven at the end of the cottage, and the stairs down to a cellar; Where Meriam began to hear laughter.

           Peering into the dim cellar, like two children looking into a well, Meriam and Ealtheltwein saw two large beautiful fairies, and a woman with platinum hair, amber eyes, white fairy kingdom fair robes, and a marking in black, of a sword in a heart upon her chest. The three cellar occupants looked unblinkingly at Eathel and Meriam.

“You brought mages my love! More friends for our party in our safe little garden!” the female fairy spoke. She matched the second fairy like a twin; though the other fairy was a boy. Their complexions were like ice, and their hair was silver, and eyes that were pale and lustered like aura quartz. Their wings were lilac and periwinkle, and shimmered like their eyes. They wore fairy robes, and had crowns of ice. They looked just like the Fairy King and Queen. Meriam was delighted; Royal Fairies. Fairies make sense! She almost started to tear again.

“Hello, you must be Corona Wintersleapen. Your people need you to stop attacking them, when they go near the magic forest. They fear your introverted nature is caused by your families neglect. But I think your just a mage, and people are mean.” Meriam said. “Also, your two royal friends are radiant, by the way.”

“Nada. I do not attack the people. They just get lost in the forest; the fey lead them back out again. It’s their fault for trying to cut down the tree children, instead of asking politely to be neighbors. If they were nicer, and stopped having children in hopes of bearing mages, their city could become entangled with this forest no problem. And I live happy in my little cottage, with all my true loves. I want nothing to do with tower folk.” Corona spoke. She sounded like a snooty child.

“Miss, this situation is so upsetting to common folk; they cower in fear-” Meriam said. Then she stopped. “Wait, you just don’t want to talk to commoners? It has nothing to do with your family or how close or far away they are?”

“Se” Corona chirped. “I even send them medicine, when the sickness passes time to time.”

“Wait, true love? With all four of you? That is a lot of love… Aunt Merry says you’re a mage that can heal with love; you must make everyone feel better with four times the hugs!” Eatheltwein smiled. “I love romantic stories! Is that why everything is copper and you have so many baking and brewing supplies? To heal people and befriend fairies?” Eathel gleamed. Meriam rolled her eyes.

“We are Earden Faries; royal fey! We came to look for our father, but my sister fell in love with this fine bard! And then I fell in love with this adorable lady! So, we stayed here, instead of returning home with no news of our father. Her shortbreads are wonderful!” the fairy prince said sweetly. Meriam went into seer mode; she covered Eatheltwein’s mouth, to start an interrogation:

“Why were you looking for your father: The Fairy Queen?” She asked.

“Oh, my love can sing that for you! It’s very sad. We taught him to sing it in every tongue.” The fairy princess said.

“I love songs and music! Why I would love a ballad form that fine lads lute!” Eathletwein said.

“No.” Meriam grimaced. “Just tell me. I want to record everything in grotesque detail.” she demanded. The man took his seat, and the fairies hugged his knees, and Corona curled up to keep brewing in the wine cellar. Then the unsettling bard took a deep breath, and started with one strum; and Meriam’s palm, met her face.

Upon the tallest mountain, in the southmost lands; A selfish king did ask a mage for a simple thing.

He held a knife to the mage’s kin, and then began to yell.

Summon me the Raven King; whose song will kill us all.

The armies of the bitter folk, come before my fort. Now have the biggest raven come, and make the men no more.

When the Raven King did come, from his shadowy throne; the Fairy Queen did run away, to stop the bird lord’s song.

Alas too late, the mage summoned him, and the Raven began to plea: “release my mage, my dearest friend and I may sing for thee.”

Forgotten was the darkness, of the king’s new oath; For when the Raven King began to chime, the king and mage began to fall.

The Fairy Queen, though light of foot, could not warn the peoples to flee;

And down came the fort and mountain, and all the fey and trees.

No one lived to tell the tale, of how a mountain halved; to quote the lives of all that died, or witness the beast king’s spell.

The Fairy King did cry, for the loss of her dead love. The Raven King forgiven, but the damage already done.

The lord of birds he cracked his voice, for death he saw as sin; and tells each mage of whom he sees, of what crimes he did commit.

Now that many years have past, and the Gate and Forest remade. The people here will never learn, but at last we’re safe.

           It doesn’t matter how talented a bard is, if the courts don’t care to listen. Meriam got up, broke his lute in a rage, and glared the man with malice.

“No. I am a Queen, a time controlling mage, a wife, and a Mother; I have seen battle, magic, murder, pain, and filth beyond imagination; AND I DON’T WANT TO BE SERENADED BY A HISPANION STALLION COLLECTING FARIES IN A FANTASY MUSHROOM SAMBA.” Meriam cursed. Her dark powerful voice even scared Eatheltwein, who cowered in the oven. The information was fun lore, and it explained the art on the walls. But it would not satisfy Hispania in terms of having good will towards this magic forest; or Anglia. Meriam pulled Eathel out of the oven, and Corona out of the cellar. She brought them to the table to sit, while the royal fairies swooned, and transmuted a new loot for their love, from a broken ladle.

           The most Meriam could do now, was inform Corona that common folk can’t talk to trees, so she would have to be a witch and negotiate the land partitioning between commoners and tree children. Corona hated the idea; that would require leaving the forest and talking to people.

“If you don’t want to talk to people, send your insufferable bard. He’s a special kind of peasant. Small people might find him charming.” Meriam scoffed.

“It’s only until the people who hate fey leave, and the rest accept living aside fairies and phoenixes. My aunt here, made the Raven Gate in the main square of the Capital of Anglia; a magic forest in the biggest city of the Grand West! And all the common people live well from what I’ve seen.” Eathel said with a smile. His sunny aura had begun to comfort and attract Corona. The idea involved her staying away from humans, having fey be safe, and still being able to be a magic healer, and baker, in the woods. The witch in a little cottage of a magic forest. Corona agreed, and offered Eatheltwein a spot in her bed with the bard and fairies. Then gestured at Meriam as well. She considered it, until her eyes met the bard’s; dead eyes. She didn’t trust him.

Meriam took Eathel aside, and warned him to stay away from sketchy offers like that, and they should get home before his uncle realizes he wasn’t becoming literate. Eathel was disappointed; he always wanted to make a pillow fort. Noticing Meriam was becoming short, Eatheltwein said they could tell him he was learning other kingly skills. Meriam argued creepy house, in creepy forest, with a creepy woman, who was asking if they wanted to be the fifth and sixth flower in her vase. Eathel gave up, as he didn’t understand; he was not full grown either. The two of them politely declined Corona’s offer. When she persisted, Eathel gave her his shirt as a distraction, and dashed into the tight twisted vibrant forest. Meriam followed behind, and they started looking for the Fairy Gate to get home.

           Meriam and Eatheltwein started to get trapped in the dense forest. The tree children were stubborn, and they had gone the wrong way. They were lost.

“Can we use our familiars to scout?” Eatheltwein asked.

“Too tight, we might lose them. We need a Mothkin.”

“Those giant fairy moths? that turn into human sized fairies that guide people?”

“I’m not going to ask how you know that, but yes. I don’t know the names of any in this forest, to call for one. By the way, saying a fey’s name, if it has given it too you out of fondness, is how to charm a fey to you. It’s rude to say, or share, a fey’s name; it’s a gift from their parents. Also, never summon them like edge lord Edmond.”

“The Wolf prince?”

“Yes. By the way, if he ever comes to you for peace, say yes, and don’t mention that I said that.”

“This place really got to you aunt Merry…” Eathel mused. He was ensnared in greater bean stalk, which was talking to him in tree euphemisms. Something about him being a treasure of the Grand West. Then, as he was being lifted by the tendrils, shortbread fell out of his pocket. Eatheltwein had taken it in the cabin, as the fairy recommended. Meriam picked them up; they were rum flavoured. She shrugged and put them on a nice plate from the palace, she summoned with chalk. Eathel was now having neon flowers and fruit nuzzled against him by the tree children. Now he was bothered. He was in need of a water closet.

It was a waiting game. They hoped some mothkin, whisp, or nymph, would come and help them for a cookie. Fairy logic is both the best and worst. Eventually the tree children parted way, slowly dropping Eatheltwein, and a night blue mothkin walked forward. She was deep blue and royal navy; wearing a sparkling velvet robe, long glassy hair, and soft eyed wings and antenna.

“The cookie is nice, but I could feel your desperation from across the creek. Sorry I took so long, you guys kept moving away.” She said calmly. “Oh! I remember you! Meriam Craweleoth?”

“Hello, my name is Eatheltwein Cynedom; what is your name?” Eathel said, hoping to get his first fey name. Meriam handed the cookies to the Mothkin, with a smile.

“Celscael. Most mages call me Chelsea. It’s nice to meet you Eatheltwein” Chelsea said, taking a bite and gesturing them to follow. The world will literally bend before a mothkin, between the start and finish of a journey. Meriam and Eatheltwein could see the warp of the trees and path as they followed; they didn’t even say where they were going, and Chelsea still led them to the Fairy Gate.

“Good tidings! Thank you for helping Corona; I can’t wait to make more friends when those lively dancing men move into the forest! This has got to be one of the better places mother has put me.” Chelsea said tenderly. Meriam smiled and waved goodbye, as did Eatheltwein to copy. They ran back to the gate and Shadow Veil without looking behind them, and walked into the square panting.

“Don’t take me on your next quest; I will be in the study becoming a good nobleman. Please Aunt Merry. PLEASE.” Eatheltwein said. He noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and hugged himself in embarrassment. He turned to Meriam; she was ecstatic.

“I am going to spend the next two days writing that all down! That was so Exciting! Odette will love to hear about this!” Meriam giddily chimed. Meriam was never this cheerful. Eathel looked at her blankly, and then he silently walked back to the palace alone.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 3 Review: The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower

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This Superman & Lois review contains spoilers.

Superman and Lois Episode 3

“Morrissey’s a xenophobic has-been.”

This one line, delivered with deadpan perfection by Alex Garfin’s Jordan Kent pretty much sums up why Superman & Lois episode 3 is so good. Wait, really? Yes, stay with me for a minute…

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I loved the first two episodes of Superman & Lois. There’s no question about that. But there was a very slight nagging feeling in the back of my mind, that maybe this show was going to be a little too serious for its own good. That maybe in the process of making Jonathan and Jordan Kent as believable as possible, and as “relatable” (god, I hate that word) to young audiences as they needed to be, that the show would end up trying just a little too hard, get a little more wrapped up in its “family drama, but with Superman” high concept than it strictly needed to, and maybe forget to lighten up every now and then. I could excuse it in those first two episodes, which play like one feature length pilot when watched together, and which had a lot of work to do to get us to buy this very different take on the Man of Steel, but I wasn’t sure if the tone would sustain over a longer stretch of episodes.

And then along comes “The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower” to put those fears at ease. To be absolutely clear, this is absolutely not a drastic change in tone from what has come before. But now that we’ve gotten to know the Kents and their neighbors and classmates, and that the Smallville setting feels very much like the natural setting of the show, there’s a little more fun to be had. No, this isn’t suddenly The Flash and STAR Labs with a team of folks cracking wise at every opportunity, and it’s certainly not my beloved Legends of Tomorrow, but the humor is here, it’s subtle, and it works at every opportunity.

The opening scene with the family trying to paint the old Kent home is a charmer, a moment broken by Clark hearing a bridge collapsing in China which he speeds off to save. It’s another near-cinematic action sequence for this show, but the special effects aren’t really what sell this scene, it’s the moment of terror to relief to pure joy of a single fisherman as he realizes he’s witnessing Superman hold up a bridge…and Superman’s wordless interaction with him is equally joyful. This is something that simply hasn’t been done in live action interpretations of Superman since the Christopher Reeve years, and I honestly rank those few seconds with Supes and the fisherman as one of the best screen moments in the character’s history.

This episode is full of moments like that, even though Tyler Hoechlin once again spends most of his screentime as Clark rather than Superman. But even there, this is certainly Hoechlin’s finest performance as the character so far, bouncing effortlessly between Man of Steel to “Clark the superpowered dad dealing with problems new even to him” to “Clark who has to act like there’s nothing special about him.”

I worry slightly that Elizabeth Tulloch’s Lois Lane still doesn’t quite have enough to do as they build her Morgan Edge investigation through the Smallville Gazette. In every other aspect, moving the family to Smallville has worked, particular in regards to exploring completely new facets of the Clark/Superman dynamic, but Lois so far feels a little out of place. On the other hand, I should probably be thankful that they aren’t trying to “do a journalism” the way it’s so often been portrayed on Supergirl or The Flash, and maybe the slow burn is the more prudent move here. Anyway, it doesn’t change the fact that Tulloch is a delight in every scene, and she is quickly becoming the definitive screen Lois for me.

But the real highlights for this episode come in the form of Jonathan and Jordan, the two characters I was most skeptical about going into this show. I’ll confess, despite some terrific comics by the likes of Peter Tomasi, Patrick Gleason, Dan Jurgens, Brian Michael Bendis, Ivan Reis, and others in recent years, I’ve never been the biggest fan of the “Superman as dad” concept. I tend to like my Superman stories a little more unencumbered (or some might say traditional, but whatever). But Jordan Elsass’ Jonathan and Alex Garfin’s Jordan are just so darn likeable, and the story being written for them so compelling, that I can’t really complain.

The idea that Jordan would try out for the football team despite his burgeoning powers seems a ridiculous one, and I honestly thought that sequence was going to be revealed as a daydream (similar to Clark’s in the first episode of Smallville). But it’s real, and it doesn’t go quite where I thought it would. Jordan excels at football…as it turns out, he’s a bit more powered up than Jor-El suspected last episode. You’d naturally expect this to lead to friction with Jonathan, who has yet to get the hang of his new team, and for a brief period it does, but then the show does something unexpected.

This isn’t about football going to Jordan’s head or even about him “getting even” with the guys who have been bullying him. Instead, it’s the first time he’s felt part of something. After absolutely leveling Sarah Cushing’s boyfriend (well…ex-boyfriend now) on the field, he offers his hand and apologizes for that awkward kiss at the Shuster Mines. Jonathan, meanwhile, sees the good the team is doing for his brother and advocates for him with a Clark who is understandably annoyed that his son is using his powers to gain an advantage on the football field.

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I know, I know, this all sounds far weightier than the Morrissey joke I quoted at the start of this, but it all unfolds with a little charm, and some surprisingly light touches here and there. Jonathan and Jordan reacting to an incredibly awkward moment with Sarah and Lana, Clark overdoing his “dorky, eager dad” routine, and other little touches just make this feel like the show is settling into a rhythm with these characters and getting more comfortable being playful.

It’s perhaps a little worrisome that Wolé  Parks’ mysterious Captain Luthor is nowhere to be seen this episode, with the only superhuman punch-up coming in the form of guest star Daniel Cudmore’s mysterious, nameless goon who makes the mistake of trying to take out Lois during her investigation. That leads to a really sharp (but quick) punch-up between him and Superman, with a terrific sequence where Superman freezes him with super-breath before delivering a perfect uppercut that would look right at home in a comic panel. If this show continues to work out creative ways to use Superman’s powers the way they have with Barry on The Flash, I think we’re gonna have some real fun in the coming episodes.

But then there’s that ending. As Lois asks, why DOES Morgan Edge have someone with super powers working for him? More than one, apparently, as Cudmore’s mysterious baddie is vaporized by a woman with heat vision named…Larr. So far, the formula for Superman & Lois seems to be to give us a family drama heavy episode, punctuated by moments of cinematic action, and then to close with a mind-bendingly cool reveal. Well, if they insist, who am I to argue?

Metropolis Mailbag

There’s not a ton of DC or Superman Easter eggs this episode, so I don’t think it’s necessarily worth its own post. But, here’s what I’ve got…

The bridge collapse scene does faintly call to mind Superman saving the Golden Gate Bridge during the earthquake in Superman: The Movie.

Jonathan telling Clark that “if you’re not actually allowed to be special” etc feels like a subtle nod to teenage Clark telling Jonathan Kent in Superman: The Movie that he could excel on the football field if he wanted to, which Jonathan forbids, saying that Clark isn’t here to “show off.” But that Clark’s answer was a philosophical “is a bird showing off when he flies?”

Cudmore’s nameless character is apparently “Subjekt-11” a designation which calls to mind “Subjekt-17” an alien raised by the Soviets to make Superman’s life miserable in Kurt Busiek and Carlos Pacheco’s incredibly underrated run on the Superman comics.

Sharon Powell may not be a character from the comics, but the folks at Kryptonsite used their X-Ray vision to point out that the actress who plays her, Jill Teed, was known for portraying Maggie Sawyer on Smallville!

Tyler Hoechlin finally gets to talk a little baseball on this show. Before going into acting, he was a baseball prodigy.

It seems that’s Morgan Edge’s right hand woman, “Leslie Larr” vaporizing our mysterious baddie. The closest I can find to her is a “Lesla Larr” who was an obscure Supergirl villain. THAT version of Larr hailed from Kandor (post shrinking) and she made Supergirl’s life miserable from time to time. I don’t expect this version of the character to have too much in common with her comics counterpart, but it seems like “evil Kryptonians” are definitely gonna be a thing on this show going forward.

The post Superman & Lois Episode 3 Review: The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[cityparking1]

5 San Francisco Attractions You Can Drive To Now

The most iconic San Francisco attractions are just a drive away from wherever you are in the city. So, why not get behind the wheel right now and drop by?

Driving yourself around San Francisco is fun, but be aware of the steep ascents and rush hour traffic. Parking in San Francisco city wouldn't be a problem; try to limit street parking and go for an affordable parking lot instead.

Ready for your self-drive city tour? Here are some of the must-visit San Francisco attractions for your itinerary:

Golden Gate Bridge

Can you imagine a San Francisco without the iconic Golden Gate Bridge? Spanning across the strait of Golden Gate, the 1.7-mile wonder of the modern world is on every traveler's wish list.

Did you know this San Francisco landmark was once called "the bridge that couldn't be built"? At least 11 workers lost their lives in the four years it took to build the bridge connecting San Francisco's Presidio and the Marin headlands. Braving the treacherous tides, rocks, wind, and fog, the single-suspension span was finally opened in 1937 and has since attracted visitors from around the world. Its twin towers stand 746 feet high, and the sturdy cables supporting the suspended roadway are over 7000 feet long. The magnificent structure is awe-inspiring no matter how many times you see it – from near or afar.

Golden hour at the Golden gate bridge is not to be missed – early morning visits are a must, at least once. Pedestrians and bicyclists are allowed on the bridge's sidewalks during daylight hours. If you've got time, take a walk across the bridge but remember it is almost a 2-mile walk one-way. The view is worth it – keep your fingers crossed for a clear day so that you can see all the way to East Bay.

Driving across the bridge toward Sausalito is free, but you'll have to pay a toll on the way back. Limited parking is available at the north and south Vista Points; have a backup plan to leave your car at a San Francisco parking garage in Presidio.

Golden Gate Park

It is just a short drive from the grand vistas of the Golden Gate Bridge to the gardens, lakes, and museums at this massive urban park. The thousand-acre Golden Gate Park is brimming with some of the most-visited San Francisco attractions; one visit wouldn't be enough to experience it all.

The Conservatory of Flowers is home to rare tropical blooms from around the world, while the Japanese Tea Garden welcomes you with a 1.5-ton Buddha, pagodas, and a moon bridge. The San Francisco Botanical Gardens will transport you to the Mediterranean or the Central American Rainforests instantly. The California Academy of Sciences highlights immersive experiences like coral reef dives, planetarium shows, and Penguin feedings. A ride on the newly-opened The SkyStar Wheel at the Music Concourse is a great way to see the park grounds from above. Guided Segway tours can reveal Golden Gate park hidden gems like the Shakespear Garden and the Lilly Pond. You can also rent bikes to explore the park and even take a trip up to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Driving down to the Golden Gate Park is easy, and you'll find plenty of San Francisco parking lots around. Free parking is available throughout the park, but it is minimal considering the number of visitors the Golden Gate Park attractions host throughout the day. You can conveniently find a parking spot at a garage nearby and avoid the risks of street parking in San Francisco. Go online or download a San Francisco parking app to find safe and affordable parking deals.

Fisherman's Warf

Historical ships, the famous fishing fleet, sea lions basking in the sun, souvenir shopping, cauldrons of crab, sourdough French bread... the sights and smells of Fisherman's Warf is a unique San Francisco experience you must add to your itinerary.

Pier 39 is undisputedly the most-visited place in San Francisco -- shopping, dining, and postcard views take it to the #1 spot on San Francisco city tours. Located along the city's historic Embarcardero, you can fill your camera rolls with the San Francisco skyline, Golden Gate, Bay Bridge, Alcatraz, and Angel Island from here. At Aquarium of the Bay, get acquainted with local marine life as you walk through clear acrylic tunnels holding up 700,000 gallons of water and 20,000 animals. More family entertainment awaits in the heart of Fisherman's Warf -- tour the Madame Tussauds Wax Museum on Jefferson Street and the San Francisco Dungeon next door.

You can find your way to Fisherman's Warf without any trouble from the East, North, or South Bay – ‘100 Jefferson Street' on the GPS should guide you. Plenty of parking is also available near Pier 39; check Bay Street, Powell Street, and Green Street for cheap parking garages near Fisherman's Warf.

Alamo Square

The "Painted Ladies" of Alamo Square are San Francisco's all-time stars! You might have even seen them on the 90s sitcom 'Full House.'

The "postcard row" at Hayes and Steiner Street is one of the most photographed locations in the city. Elegant Queen Ann era Victorian houses standing tall against a contrasting background of downtown skyscrapers in the distance – you don't want to miss that on your Instagram feed. You could also try a home tour or spend some time on the green square and take in all that beauty.

Drive to the corner of Hayes and Steiner, and you'll find plenty of parking on the streets in the neighborhood. You can also lookup San Francisco parking garages in the area for a safer option.

Union Square

The San Francisco downtown hub for shopping and entertainment is a favorite among visitors and residents alike. The public plaza is surrounded by hotels, restaurants, upscale boutiques, art galleries, and theatres.

The Union Square owes its name to Thomas Starr King rallies and Union Army support during the Civil War. At the center of the historical California landmark stands the Dewey Monument with Nike's statue – the Greek goddess of Victory.

There's a lot to explore and experience at Union Square and can be done on foot. Leave your car at a secure downtown parking lot on Powell Street, Post Street, or Stockton Street and take a stroll down to the square.

[minnuet-archive]

I’m Sorry, Logan

Rating: PG-13

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, suicide, abusive family, homophobia (let me know if there are any more i missed!)

Word Count: 3,754

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this a while back for a book that was going to be made, but didn’t end up happening. It was about suicide awareness and the different reasons for it. There was to be informative writing about the topic and cause and then a short story. This is the short story. Also, I spent a solid hour or two revamping and editing this for you all today since I couldn’t post much about my soon to be posted book. I hope you enjoy!

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. My eyelids refuse to lift, the world a blurry mess.  I stumble into my uniform, the alarm still blaring.  Eventually, my patience runs out and I shut off the alarm. I snatch my backpack out from the corner of my room before hastily grabbing a granola bar and running to the bus parked outside.

I jump into the bus and walk down the aisle, all of the noise, ranging from random conversation to yelling and fighting, filling my ears and overwhelming my mind. I almost want to put my hands to my ears and drown out the noise, but someone’s bound to take offense. As I sit down in a seat next to the seemingly quietest kids, the horrible stench of what are probably 10-year-old raisins with a generous side of sweaty gym socks permeates my nose. I hate the bus. I decide to try spacing out. 

Arriving at school, I go into the girl’s bathroom and wait until everyone leaves. I look really weird waiting for people to leave, and I don’t care. Actually, that’s not true. I definitely care. 

Once everyone’s gone, I slip out of my catholic school skirt and into far more comfortable slacks. My mother had refused to get me anything but the “girl’s” uniform which consisted of a tight, long skirt and a blouse. 

I hear the bell and run to class, bursting into the classroom and sliding into my seat directly after my name is called. 

“Late.” I  groan and get out my homework. Why does it have to be me?

Vanessa and her friends snicker across the classroom. “Hey look, the plant’s here.”

My ears burned and I clenched my teeth. Those obnoxious jerks. I’m not a plant. “My name’s E-” My eyes widen as I catch myself. “-Ellie.” 

Vanessa gasps dramatically and then says, “It can talk?!”

I don’t respond and give her what she wants, but it takes all of my strength not to. God, how am I so stupid? I don’t care if I’m using the Lord’s name in vain. I already let them know I was asexual! And if I let it slip? “My name’s Elliott.” I can only imagine the crap they’d do and say to me. What would I tell them? “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m nonbinary.” That would totally work. 

I take deep breaths. I look at the teacher and then to the board, and suddenly, zoning becomes much easier. The lunch bell rings after a while and I walk towards the courtyard, finding one of the trees in the corner that no one ever sat by. It’s sad and droopy. I wish I couldn’t relate.

“Hey, Elliott!” I flinch at the noise. He smiles and sits down next to me. 

I relax and say, “Hey, Logan. How was the class?”

“Class was crappy,” I crack a smile and when I do, he adds “as always. I love how you did your hair today. It’s pretty.”

My mouth goes dry and I fidget with my hands, forcing myself to smile. I shove my (sadly, homemade) peanut butter jelly sandwich into my mouth and then spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to swallow enough of it to even be able to chew. 

We talk and smile, though he does most of the talking, and I force myself to listen, because he always has great things to say.

The lunch bell ringing is jarring and sudden enough to make me jump, but that isn’t saying much. I grin at Logan. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, man. Bye!” 

He high fives me and starts walking towards his classroom. I walk towards mine. After Mr. Simon takes role call and I raise my hand and answer a question once, I figure I’m safe and promptly space out for the rest of the day.

The bell rings and right as I’m about to walk out of the door, I heard Mr. Simon say, “Eleanor, may I speak to you?” A collective ‘oooh’ sound comes from what’s remaining of the class, suggesting I’m in trouble, as I walk up to his desk.

“Can I help you, Mr. Simon?” 

“Do you remember the dress code guidelines we went over at the beginning of the year?” 

I start to panic. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you remember that girls are to wear skirts and a blouse and that boys are to wear a button down and slacks.” 

I mutter that I might remember something like that. “Why can’t I wear pants? I’m not wearing anything completely out of school uniform.”

“Yes, but we have a strict dress code and you, as a girl,” I flinch at the word girl. Of course, I can’t correct him. “are to wear a skirt. If you come to school tomorrow wearing pants, I’ll have you change back into a skirt, confiscate the pants, and then call your parents.” 

I nod my head as if I understand, which I don’t, and then walk out of the classroom. I know he hates me, but I had no clue he would go to these lengths to get me in trouble. What the hell kind of person would go to the lengths of confiscating pants? None of my other teachers cared! He’s just an asshole!

I really don’t want to wear a skirt and that was only the first time I wore pants. On the other hand, I don’t want them to get taken away because I had to save up for months to get them and I really want to avoid having to deal with my parents.

As I walk home, I approach the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge and smile. It’s so beautiful. Late afternoon fog is quite unusual this time of year and most people don’t like it, but I’m secretly happy about it. 

I love walking along the bridge in the morning because it’s so easy to clear my mind. The wind can make my hair clothes flap wildly in the wind which is annoying, but the feeling of the cold wind can be comforting. The smell of saltwater in the air fills my nose as I approach one end of the bridge.  I start to cross the bridge, right into the fog. It’s peaceful and the moist air feels cool and nice against my skin. 

After around 45 minutes, I come out on the other side of the bridge. 

As I walk, I fantasize about laying down on the couch and not worrying about homework.  Not because I finished it, but because I’m planning on procrastinating. 

I turn down my street and see my house. As I approach it, I realize that my house has been egged. I see a note on the door and run up and grab it. Get out of here, fag. You don’t belong here. 

Vanessa, her boyfriend, and their horrible friends were right about the last part. I don’t belong here. I wish I could leave, but it isn’t exactly possible. I rip up the note and look up at the eggs that are covering my home. 

I don’t want to clean this up… but my parents will ask why it happened if I don’t. Plus, they’ll make me do it anyway. I sigh as I trudge inside to grab a mop and some other cleaning supplies. 

Opening the closet door, I grab everything I think I might need, which is a lot. I’ve never cleaned up eggs, so I’m just guessing. 

I turn back to trudge outside again and start to wipe the door with a random rag that I found. Once I finish cleaning everything that I can reach from the ground, I place all my supplies on the roof overhang, awkwardly climbing onto it. 

I get on my knees shakily and start to clean the roof. Damn, can these kids throw. It takes what seems like years, but is probably just a couple hours to finish cleaning the house. 

Taking a risk, I jump from the overhang. I didn’t break any bones! Yay!  I grab all of the cleaning supplies and shove them back into the closet as I walk to my room. I get changed into some paint-stained jeans and a band t-shirt that my parents begrudgingly bought me for Christmas. 

I walk back out and throw myself on the couch. I log into the only social media my parents let me have and open a chat with one of my best friends,  AchillesIsTheTrueGayIcon, also known as Bentley (or Ben). Sometimes I call him Benjamin just to annoy him.

Me: What’s up, Benjamin?

He responds almost immediately.

Ben: Asshole. But not much. You?

Me: You want to know who the real assholes are? The jerks from school who egged my house.

Ben: Oof. That sucks, dude.

Ben: Hey I gtg do homework. Talk later?

Me: Sure.

I turn off my phone and put it down. I hear my mom pull up so I sit up and take out my school binder. I place my homework from yesterday in front of me so I look like I’ve been doing homework since the second I got home.

As soon as I finish setting up my fake homework station, she walks in. “Hey, mom!” No. Too cheery. Calm down. 

She smiles happily, “Hi, Ellie!” I cringe at my old name. At least she didn’t notice my overly excited greeting. “How was your day?” My little sister, Adia follows her in and then runs to our room. 

I consider telling her that my day hasn’t been great, but decide against it. There are only two outcomes. The first is that she wouldn’t care and tell me to suck it up. The second is that it would just invoke a flurry of questions. Neither sounds particularly fun. “It was good. Yours?”

“It was fine. Busy as always,” I give her a knowing nod and then I see her smile slowly fade. “You didn’t make yourself dinner, did you?”

“No, not yet.” I smile sheepishly and she sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Alright. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I roll my eyes and she scoffs as she walks into the kitchen, tossing her bags onto a chair at the table. I hear Adia’s footsteps approaching before I see her jump onto the couch beside me.

“Hi, Adia. Did you have fun at daycare today?”

”Yeah! I played with Sammy!” 

“That’s fun.” She smiles proudly as if having a friend is something to be proud of, which in my case, is true, but in her case, not so much. She has a lot of friends. 

“I got to see all mommy’s friends, too! They’re so nice!” 

I’m contemplating how untrue that is when I hear my mom start to reheat leftovers from last night. She tosses all of the food on three plates the same way she did her bag. 

Wow. Soon really did mean soon.

My mom presses the power button on the remote and we pretend to watch a sitcom as we shovel food into our faces. Eventually, the episode ends. Too lazy to change the channel, we leave it alone and ignore it.

My mom is seated facing the screen and I watch her chuckle. I turn to the screen and freeze. It's a pride parade. All of a sudden I hear Adia’s excited voice.

“Ooooh! Rainbows!” I look at her and smile a little bit. She doesn’t even know. Sometimes I wish I don’t know what LGBTQ+ means. But that’s not really true.

“Those rainbows are for gay people.” She says gay in disgust as if it’s the worst thing you can be. 

Mom continues, “You don’t want to be gay. Being gay is bad. You’ll go to hell if you’re gay.”

Now she just looked confused. “Why is it bad?”

“Because a man is supposed to marry a woman. That’s how God created us.” Mom says.

I finish eating my food as fast as I can to escape this horrible conversation and then interrupt. “Can I be excused? I’m getting tired.”

Before my mom can respond, my father swings open the front door.

This time, it’s not just me who’s frozen. He’s holding a beer bottle. His tie is loose. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and it’s stained.

What makes it most obvious that it’s happened again is his eyes. They’re huge. And not in the caring way.

He smiles goofily and stares at Adia and I. “No hug? No ‘Hi daddy!’ or ‘Thanks for working your ASS off every day to provide for us’?” 

My first instinct is to pull Adia closer to me and step one foot in front of her, which I follow through on. My second instinct is to throw something at him so we can all run.

I hold back. Mom’s too close to dad. She would never be able to run away in time. He could hit her. Hurt her. Even kill her, if he wanted to. She’s not a good person, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Go. To your rooms. Now.” I turn to my mom in utter surprise.

“But mom-“

“Now.” Her voice is sharp and cold, but filled with fear. The most confusing part is that I know the fear isn’t for herself. It’s for us. 

I grab Adia and make sure she’s safe and locked in her room before running to mine. I press my ear against the door because I might be able to get an idea of what’s happening. I can’t hear anything. 

I slump down and hang my head in my hands. Holy mother of God. What is wrong with my family? Why doesn’t she just kick him out when he’s hungover? Why don’t we leave?

I can't deal with this.

I'm sobbing now. I clench my teeth to trap the noise in my mouth.

Over the course of a few minutes, I draw myself up onto my knees and stand up, walking over to sit down at my desk. I start to scribble words that seem right on a paper. After a minute of writing, I reread it. It's not good enough. I crumple up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash.

I hug my knees tightly, trying not to make any form of sound. My breathing slows to its normal pace as I continue to sit there and I grab another piece of paper. I start to write once again, this time neater.

In the morning, I wake up the same way as yesterday. I put on my pants and even throw on a t-shirt instead of a blouse. I don’t care if Mr. Simon tries to force me to wear a skirt. I’m not taking anyone’s crap on my last day of school.

As I look in the cracked medicine cabinet mirror, all I can think of is my hair. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a minute while I go over all my options. I finally tug open the drawer and grip my father’s razor in my hand. There are lots of those weird plastic protectors that I think make sure you don’t accidentally shave off all your hair. I choose the one labeled number 4 at random and push it onto the top of the razor.

My heart starts to beat faster as I push it gently against my scalp, running it down my head in different places until my entire head is buzz cut. For the first time, I feel alive.

I peek out of the crack in the door and watch my mom walk into the kitchen. I run to my room, grabbing my backpack and binder.

I do this again and again until I’m out of the door. 

I step into the bus, a huge grin slapped on my face. The other kids stare and I don’t even pay any attention to them. For the first time, I don’t care. I hear a kid yell “Get off, queer!” and I resist flipping him off… well, I try to resist flipping him off. 

Taking my time, I walk into the classroom and sit next to Logan. He stares at me, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you do?” he whispers.

“I buzz cut my hair. I don’t even care anymore. I’ll deal with the consequences,” 

Not. 

“I just needed to do it,” I finish.

His face is contorted into a mixture of dumbfoundedness and horror as he slowly shakes his head. “Yeah. Alright. Tell me if you need anything, I guess.” He can’t stop staring at me and I honestly find it kind of funny.

A kid walks up to me sitting at what is most likely his desk. 

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

“Yeah. I know. My seat’s over there. Feel free to take it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something more, but he turns to walk towards my actual seat. 

Logan looks at me. I wonder if he knows something off. That taking some other kid’s seat isn’t something I’d normally do. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Anyways, how was your day yesterday?” He laughs and then adds, “Holy crap. That was such a mom question.”

I snort and answer, “Oh my god, you’re right. But it was good. I’m tired as hell, though.”

“No kidding.” I grin at him as the teacher looks at us again. I don’t really pay attention in math. I just talk to Logan. It’s relaxing to not have to care. To not have to worry about the consequences of my actions. 

When we walk to lunch, I start complaining to Logan about how much of the day we have left. 

“Uh, you know that we have an early day, right?”

“Oh! I do now.” He chuckles and smiles. I feel my cheeks warm up slightly at his smile. It’s a beautiful one. He starts to talk about some fandom of his and I try my hardest to pay attention. 

I don’t really know what triggers this, although I have an idea, but I realize something. I’ve never kissed someone. Okay, this needs to change. I feel weird thinking about it, but I know exactly who I want to be my first and last kiss.

He’s about to start another thought, but I interrupt him. I don’t care. “You’re amazing.”

He looks at me as if I said the strangest thing he’s ever heard. “I mean it. You’re always there for me and you talk to me about things we like. I feel I don’t thank you enough for that.”

He still looks confused and a bit weirded out but he just smiles calmly. “Right back at you,” he responds as he fidgets with his hands and looks down at his shoes. I gesture for him to continue and, without hesitation, he does. 

Logan sighs and packs up his lunch as the bell rings. 

“Hey, will you walk home with me? I know you normally hang out here for a while but I want to talk to you.” I know this is a risk. 

Just like before, he doesn’t say anything, but now I’m sure that we both know something’s wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

We grab our stuff and we start walking. He starts walking faster and gets ahead. This is not acceptable. 

I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. My breath is short and raspy as I laugh all the air out of my lungs with him. When we reach the bridge, we’re both out of breath. We start panting like dogs on a hot day as we bend over and try to distribute our body weight evenly.

I stand up straight again and look at him. His face is glowing and his brown eyes are big and happy. He runs his hand through his slicked-back (with both gel and sweat) hair and adjusts his glasses. What a dork. 

I know this is the moment. I move closer to him and press my lips against his own, my own brain not having a say in it. 

The salty air blows through my hair and I feel on top of the world. After a couple of seconds, I step away. He looks confused. He wasn't okay with it. Oh, God. What have I done? I'm about to keep running down the bridge when he hugs me.

This time, I'm the unprepared one. After a minute, he lets go and slides his hand into mine. We continue to walk across the bridge. There's nothing we need to say and it feels amazing. 

We don't have to explain ourselves. We can just walk quietly together. And it's not awkward.

My happiness fades away as I realize this is the first and last time I’ll be able to do this. I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. I already taped the note to his backpack when we left school. 

Today was the best day of my life, but the rest of my life will be a living hell if I go back home right now. Today was a good day. One in a million.

This has to be the last time. Nothing good can last forever. Nothing can last forever.

We reach the other side. “Goodbye, Logan.” 

He laughs. “You say it like this is the last time I’ll ever see you. I’m going to see you tomorrow.”

I feel my heart shatter a little bit more than it already had but I cover it up with a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just goodbye for now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek and then twirls around like a ballerina. I choke back a sad laugh.

He starts to walk towards his house, but I just turn towards the water. 

Tears spill silently down my face. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. I want to run to Logan and scream his name, but I can’t. This has to be done alone. 

I lift one foot onto the railing and then the other. This is it.

One last tear slips down my face as I whisper raspily, “I’m sorry, Logan.” I know it will be peaceful. A quiet ending. Not that I deserve one, but I guess it’s a favor to myself. I let go of the pole that I had been holding onto.

And then I’m falling. 

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Gone.

Tagging: @sunandshinee @writingamongthecoloredroses @ettawritesnstudies @rhycantspell @just-perhaps @etddivine @antisocialdragonenby  @crabsthinkfishfly @holdup-pause @gaydemiboy 

[ruels-bucket-hat]

Joke - Ruel

Chapter 1

Kara was facing with her back towards me as I stepped up closer to the painting on display. It had been a while since we last saw each other, 2 months to be exact, so any opportunity to get together was taken. “Kara?” I gently tapped her right shoulder. She quickly glanced in my direction and took a second look before she realized that it was me standing behind her, causing her eyes to light up.

“Oh my gosh,” Kara lifted her hand to her mouth, “LEAH!” She spread her arms out and embraced me in them, consuming me with her chocolate and peppermint mixed smell. “I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow,” she let go to raise her jeans.

“We weren’t,” I started to giggle as excitement took control over my body. “Your art is on display; did you really expect me to miss the first day of the exhibit?” Kara had a smile across her face caused by my words, but quickly faded when she reached for an earpiece I didn’t notice when I came up behind her.

“Okay-” she says under her breath.” She looked back at me with her finger still on the earpiece. Few one-word answers escaped her mouth as I stood awkwardly in front of her. Eventually, her hand fell to her side, “I have to go fix something that came up. It shouldn’t take that long, so you can wander around until I get back.” Kara gave a sincere look to apologize for leaving so abruptly.

“Just don’t leave me here alone for long,” I demand jokingly, but half serious as well. She laughs before she turns around and heads for a different hallway. The painting she was admiring, before I interrupted her trance, was of the Golden Gate bridge. I found myself getting caught up in it as well, since I didn’t notice the rush of people headed towards the entrance until a hard hit to my shoulder woke me up. Kids were being dragged by their parents, girlfriends were stumbling as they were being dragged by their boyfriends, and everyone was traveling in a faster pace than before. It’s been eight minutes and Kara isn’t back yet, so I might as well see what is going on.

The crowd was exiting through the same hallway that Kara entered. The hall led to another room, this one bigger than the first, where even more people were trying to scatter out. It was hard to push through the amount of people stampeding their way out the door, but I had to find Kara. A gunshot went off and everyone ducked their heads down, giving a clear view of what was ahead: Kara.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked down the shaft of the gun that was pointed towards her and quickly glanced in my direction after most of the crowd had escaped the room. I couldn’t see the face of the person holding the weapon, but the carrier’s long fingers were wrapped tightly around the trigger. “Now, I know for a fact that there is money at least somewhere in this building, but that’s not what I’m looking for,” the weapon holder taunted. He spoke clearly and with an accent, “I think you know what I am here for.” Kara stood frozen, not able to answer him. “Aw, am I scaring you?” he spoke in a low tone. More tears were strolling down her face.

“Please don’t,” I whisper. The masked man heard the words that were let out under my breath and he put his arm down before facing me. He had a soft face, not one that would normally be associated with a criminal. He had a surgical mask covering his mouth and the tip of his nose. His eyes were of a green, hazel color and made contact with mine as soon as he turned around. Ruel Vincent Van Dijk.

Even though half of his face was hidden, it was easy to tell that a smirk was growing behind the mask. Ruel Van Dijk was a notorious high-class felon, with the status of D. B. Cooper. “Oh how fun, more people to torment,” he spit out.

“Please don’t hurt her,” I repeated myself a little louder. My voice was shaky as I begged.

“Then switch,” he raised an eyebrow. I started to drag my feet over to where Kara was standing. The look on her face told me not to move, but with Ruel’s position, I was not going to take any chances. I replaced where she was frozen and guided her to a different part of the room where she could not get hurt. “How bold do you think you are?” the scoff that came from Ruel’s tone lowered any confidence I had before, which was close to none. I stood frozen with my feet glued to the floor, becoming heavier and heavier, weighing me down. There was no turning back now. “Stand over there,” he ordered and pointed with the gun. My back was now against the cold wall.

He brought his arm back up and aimed the gun directly at me. Was this the situation Kara had to deal with? He walked closer to where I was standing, putting himself in what was considered personal space. The tall figure pulled down the mask that was covering his mouth. “What’s your name, love?” his hot breath brushed along my forehead.

My heart starts to beat faster by how little space there is between us. A gun is still in his grip and the smell of gunpowder fills your nose. A loud bang breaks my right eardrum causing a ringing in my ear. “You took too long to answer darling,” he put his hand against the wall and leaned in closer. The tip of his index finger on his weapon hand under my chin, pushing it up so that we were face to face. “Well if your not going to give me your name, I’m just gonna have to give you one,” he shrugged and wiped a tear rolling down your cheek. Kara was watching from a distance safe enough so that Ruel could not see her.

“Van Dijk,” a deep voice came from the side of the room. It was hard to hear with the temporary deafness in my right ear. Both Ruel and I looked over to see who the owner was. Two buff guys in suits came up behind him.

“Ruel,” I whimper.

He backed away from the wall, “No love, I asked what your name was. Not mine.” He brought his arm down so that he was no longer pointing the gun at me. “How you know my name though, that has me intrigued.” I turned my head to the side. The look he was giving me only proved how much evil he had running his body. He lets out a small laugh, “Pathetic.” I kept my head still but decided to look in his direction after his subtle comment. “That is your name now,” he waved and walked towards the two other males. “I hope this isn’t our last encounter Pathetic.”

+ + +

“Miss Collins,” a familiar voice approaches behind me.

“Michael!” I turned around and opened my arms to hug an old friend.

“What are you doing here?”

“Kara and I were at the gallery,” I answer. Michaeljust nods his head in understanding. “I’ve already made my statement, so I’m just waiting for her to get done.”

“Leah?” a new voice popped up. I turn and find Liam walking towards us. “How are you doing? I heard what happened.”

If I knew there were going to be this many encounters, I would’ve just stayed home. It was nice to see everyone I used to work with, but it got exhausting having to answer the same questions fifty times. I left the department about a month and a half ago to move back with my family in New York. I found it for the better, since the NYPD had more to offer than the San Francisco police department does. “I’m completely fine,” I reply to the many questions that surrounded me.

An officer opened the door to the room Kara gave her statement in; she came out looking better than when she went in. “You ready to go?” I asked her as she walked out.

She shook her head, “I have to talk to some more people.” The same officer who let her out came over to lead her to another room.

“Leah,” he tipped his hat and acknowledged me.

I returned the gesture, “Dylan.” Michael and Liam were still beside me, hoping to engage in conversation. I turned back towards them, “Have anything big happen since I left?”

Liam lets out a small laugh, “before or after Ruel?”

///

Taglist: @rip-lukes-balsamic @harishaanne

If you would like to be added or removed please let us know 😁

[anamurielveron]

A Palace

A Travel Essay

When I was 14, we went there and my dad got to tag along in the last month because one of my cousins was getting married. That year, we were able to go to more places than usual since we finally had someone who could drive us around while my aunt and her family were at work or college. We got to go to Disneyland (again) and Universal Studios (for the first time). Both were fun, I loved the nostalgia and I’m a big fan of fairy tales and fantasy so Disney was brilliant and Universal had Hogsmeade from Harry Potter where I got to pick out some wands which were pretty magical. I was more excited about going to San Francisco, though. My aunt and her family lived in LA County and it was the first time we’d driven that far from LA. Except for the couple times when we went to Vegas (which, by the way, is actually a pretty boring place when you’re under-aged).

I preferred San Francisco’s winding streets and beautiful buildings. The Victorian-style houses perched on the waves-hills and the quaint cafés on every corner made me feel like I was in some cheesy rom-com, but in a good way. Everything was so photogenic. The cold spring air gave everything a calm, muted look.

We drove to the city in a rented car but we spent most of the trip walking and taking the cable cars. We were absolute tourists the whole time. Backpacks, running shoes, and all. We went to see all the iconic places in San Francisco that you’d always see in movies:  Fisherman’s Wharf, Pier 39, The Painted Ladies (a row of gorgeously painted Victorian houses), the famed Lombard Street, and, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge. However, my favorite was definitely the Palace of Fine Arts.

It was a long walk from the nearest cable car stop to the monument. Like, a really long walk. We had to climb up hills. It was like some kind of urban hiking thing. I’m not particularly athletic in any way plus I had no endurance whatsoever so the journey certainly wasn’t the most enjoyable. I might’ve uttered a few “grabe, pagod na ko”s here and there but I managed to bite my tongue about why we didn’t just take the car. I also didn’t actually know where we were going which meant I didn’t know what to be excited about, so my lack of complaining was actually quite impressive.

When we finally got there, I was pleasantly surprised to see Greco-Roman style architecture. I was absolutely stunned. I loved seeing buildings from long ago, which is one of the main reasons I love going to grand cathedrals and other historic structures. Walking the grounds of The Palace of Fine Arts felt like I was inside a painting set in ancient Greece and I was some kind of scholar or philosopher contemplating the secrets of the universe. The large, domed rotunda, the most iconic part of the place, was so magnificently detailed and walking through the pergola, between all the tall columns, was like going back in time. The whole place was like a site of ancient ruins before the ruining. Like it was a courtyard on Mt. Olympus, home of the gods.

While we were taking in the sights and snapping pictures, I noticed this one couple taking a stroll. They weren’t tourists, I think. They had their arms around each other and looked so happy and content. I’m kind of surprised I didn’t think it was weird or wrong at the time, knowing I come from a conservative school. I think that was one of the moments that when I remember it, I knew I’d had a pretty liberal mindset already. Mom had somehow managed to take a couple of candid photos of them. I had to give it to her, the pictures turned out really nice. Like they were really having a photoshoot or something.

By the time we were about to go home, it was sundown and everything was a beautiful golden orange. I honestly didn’t want to leave. Partly because I really didn’t want to walk all the way back, but also because I had that feeling about the Palace of Fine Arts. Whenever I’m in places like that, I get this feeling in my heart. I could never explain it. I know we shouldn’t get too attached to worldly things but I have to say, places like this just get you.

[kinfriday]

Wandering Hops: The Urban Runner

San Francisco, the city by the bay. This sprawling metropolis is purported to have it all, fine dining, upscale hotels, one of a kind experiences, history, and tourist traps aplenty.

But what about hiking? Can you even hike through an urban landscape, and find something that’s challenging, enjoyable, and memorable? 

That was the question rattling around in my mind as I descended upon Oakland last week, wondering how I was going to get a Wandering Hops in, while I visited with my family here. 

For most of the week, I’d be relegated to Mass Transit. Without a vehicle, my options narrowed as to where I could go, if not as a matter of access, then the time it might take to go anywhere. Even the local gym franchise proved to be a forty five minute bus ride away. 

To be certain, anything not within walking distance was going to prove a logistical challenge. 

Starting my research the evening of my arrival, I found many offerings at the periphery. Oakland’s Redwood Park, and Marin both boasted hikes that looked challenging and interesting, but were also far afield, with transit times one way peaking towards the two hour mark, which would reduce my options. 

Everything had to be planned around a transit schedule, but out of this challenge, I got an idea. What if I turned this on its head? Was it possible to find a hike in San Francisco proper that would offer distance, challenge, and beautiful scenery, all while proving easy to get to, right off the Bay Area Rapid Transit System (The BART).

Narrowing my search,  I came across the Golden Gate Park, Lands End, Presidio Loop. Clocking in at eleven miles, it came with an option to extend the hike by at least three if I hiked across the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Bingo. 

Starting off from Golden Gate Park, I ventured north, determined to get as much of the road walking portion of the hike out of the way, only to be pleasantly surprised when I found a wide green space welcoming me, framed in by trees, providing a forested, and direct path for me to follow as I ventured towards Presidio Park. 

The experience proved interesting. The roar of traffic was present on either side of me, but otherwise I was alone, moving through what felt like a forest only to pop out every block or so, and have to cross at a crosswalk to avoid being flattened. It punctuated the hike with a strange staccato, and well illustrated the nature of this hike as a mixed experience early on, for though it felt like I was in the wilds, the city was just beyond my green bubble, ever waiting for me.  

That experience was not to last though, as I crossed into the wide expanse of Presidio Park. The location was once a military base and an important pacific fortification for the US Military, and at one time, Spain. It was established in 1776, the very same year that America declared independence from England. The fort maintained a military presence within San Francisco until 1994, ending its 219 years as a fortification. At that time, its sprawling 1,500 acres were deeded to the National Park Service, and remains in its possession to this day. (source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Presidio_of_San_Francisco)

As a result of its military history, it is full of parade grounds, and is not as densely packed as the rest of the city. Moving up a steep incline, I soon found myself in a well kept parkland. The noises of traffic, so prevalent not fifteen minutes before, fell away. Here people walked dogs, and jogged along, past historical markers and fitness placards, while birds sang and squirrels jostled for bits of food left upon the ground by picnickers. 

Diverting past a golf course filled with Lexus, BMW and Porsche a plenty, the trail veered and the population dived as a shaded wood welcomed me. Gaining elevation, quiet surrounded me, save for the pacific wind that blew through the trees granting a cool tinge to the noon time air, all while the Golden Gate Bridge began to peek through the wooded copse. 

So far, this hike had been full of surprises, and as I stood overlooking the national cemetery, with a stunning view of the Golden Gate Bridge, I could not help but feel that I had found a type of hidden treasure nestled within the city.  

Following the trail, it led me out of the woods, back to sidewalk, and eventually asphalt as I navigated the old military base. Winding ever north, the spires of the Golden Gate became more and more dominant as I moved deeper into the old military base, finally passing a large parade ground set before four identical barracks in a spanish architectural style. It was a curious mash up of architectural beauty and picture perfect reproduction that made them seem both original and mass produced at the same time providing a jarring effect as I followed signs for the coastal trail.

Arriving at Golden Gate plaza, I stopped for lunch and  looked towards the bridge, considering  my options. Tourists dominated the area, crowding almost every free space, as they milled about from shops, to path, to photo opportunity. Rented bikes whizzed by, with hardly a care for any pedestrians around them, who seemed equally oblivious as they wandered about. 

What struck me as interesting was the number of languages I heard, Chinese, Korean, Dutch, English, and others I could not readily identify. While it was a chaotic morass, this area was still a global meeting of various cultures all gathered together to experience a particular American landmark that always ends up destroyed in any blockbuster action movies. 

Considering it now, I suppose in that moment I had become a tourist too, because I was about to undertake the same journey, adding a little over three miles to my hike, and walk the bridge. 

This sounds like a romantic notion. As stated, the Golden Gate is famous, bringing in visitors from around the world to see its iconic red spires. It is the symbol of San Francisco, dominating logos, souvenirs, paintings and films. However, the fact that it is such a venerable symbol does not take away from the fact that it is also a critical traffic artery, and a busy tourist destination. 

In short, I had entered into utter chaos and noise. People pressed in around me in a manner that I would associate more with New York City than the bay area, as traffic roared by at highway speeds.  Bicyclists continually zoomed by, ringing their bells, giving you only moments to push yourself up against the side, but I wasn’t about to turn around. 

As I wrote last week, perseverance pays, and I had come to hike that damn bridge. 

Ushered on by winds, and a prevailing sense of mild panic being surrounded by so many people, the views only got better as I made my way across. There, over an expanse of bright blue water lay Alcatraz, and to my other side was the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. Massive container ships trailed out before my vision, ferrying their goods back and forth, as sail boats raced by distracting me from the chaos that was around me. 

Some experiences, some views, make the chaos worth it. 

Hooray for type two fun. 

A curious rhythm to the hike became apparent as I ventured on, past my halfway point. After another section along a busy road, I again found myself in a forest. This time, clinging to high rocky hills that overlooked the ocean. Waves rolled in as the container ships continued their endless procession in the distance, as the hike again grew more and more wild only for it to dump me suddenly, back into a neighborhood, back into the city, before dropping me off onto the beach. 

Here among decaying and abandoned bunkers, and cannon emplacements, kites flew, and people luxuriated in the sun enjoying cool seventy degree temperatures, a marked, and beautiful contrast to the sweltering heat wave that was punishing much of the rest of the country at the time. Reporting earlier on the fantastic weather conditions back to our cover artist in Connecticut, they sent a simple one word reply. 

“Jealous.” 

Moving along the shore, past the ruins of the Sutro baths, I was once again on the sidewalk, this time happy for the experience, if for no other reason than that it was keeping sand out of my shoes. Two days after my hike, they still rattle when I put them on, as so much has worked itself between the goretex layers, I wonder if they will ever be free of the gritty material ever again. 

Finally, I ended up on the edge of the Golden Gate Park, the very same area I had started. Following a path, through the beautifully kept park, I soon found myself amongst the woods again, as the light of day began fading. As a result of backtracks and diversions, the hike had stretched long, ultimately coming in at 16.1 miles.

Oftentimes, hiking is seen as a purely rural, or remote activity, however this adventure showed it can be anything but. With a bit of planning and searching, I had found a hidden gem, full of history, stunning natural scenery and ample challenge. Best of all, it was just a short bus ride away in the heart of the City by the Bay.

[wildstrandsblog]

Inherit the Earth

3.4.20

In a mythological time told to be the Golden Age, there was a critical point in every person’s life when an inner voice would come calling to them, to be heard or even seen. This calling from within guided a human being toward their individual purpose, how that purpose was to be enacted, and how it would support the whole of the Earth. Tens of thousands of years later, most had grown deaf to that inner call but there were still some during the Age of Heroes who were courageous enough to feel the strong desire to connect back to a lost purpose. These stories of heroic men tell of how they left their homes and families in search of it. Unknowingly, in search of the pain it took to journey into the spiritual life. These men headed into the wilderness, some of them to the forests said to hold the mysteries of the Universe. In some of the ancient stories, these places of numinous resurrection were given a name, the Forests of Confusion.

In the Forests of Confusion, men began to feel the force of their own feelings, sometimes for the first time, observing and collecting the data their body gave them through sensations. They mapped out and got to know these sensations, first wrestling with them but ultimately coming to understand they were a part of them. From there, they began to revere these feelings as untapped intelligences in parts of themselves they could not see or touch but were consciously aware existed. Lastly, these men enacted the ultimate lesson learned in the process of becoming one with the Universe again; letting go of all emotion to feel the truth found in the nothingness that followed. They sent their emotions back into the forest so others could find them in a future time while retaining more understanding about themselves.

These men were the first yogis, shamans, spiritual leaders, Empaths, and more. They learned how to accept every aspect of their feelings, embracing the dark side of its force as well as the light. They learned how the natural world was there to support this process as they trusted the ancient dance of emotion that tied them to the world outside. The thin barrier that separated their logical, individual nature from the larger, illogical Nature outside was bridged to become partners in a spiritually, engrained cosmic dance.

Last year this time completing the first chapter of my life’s story, I found myself immersed in this drawing (showcased here) to capture the vision of my feelings. Saving some of the details for the memoir, I relayed a strong feeling I had the first time traveling solo outside of the country, caught in a spiraling fear of death. At the age of twenty-seven, I thought for sure my plane was going to plunge itself into the Atlantic Ocean and I needed to get my final thoughts out—the love I had for family. At that moment, I stopped everything to call my partner then, anxious and fearful my world was ending and inadvertently missing my flight. Pleading with the gate attendant to turn the plane around, I was gutted and internally ridiculed that an adventure I was just beginning had already ended without even stepping foot into the beyond. Little did I know that was the intended mistake my life was needing to turn my whole world around.

From that moment, I made a promise to myself I’d no longer be stopped by fear, despite the odds. Sitting in the airport watching my plane fly away to Argentina, I made the conscious decision to catch the next flight out and permanently ink my body with a symbol of an idea which had been growing inside me for years—the fleur-de-lis. I write that on my last day in Argentina after getting tattooed, I could feel how this new tattoo was going to grow on me. The fleur-de-lis was the start of a symbol that would become the seed to the Tree of Life I now have covering half of my back and torso. Where did all of this knowledge come from? How did I know the exact thing that would bring balance to an intense fear of death in a split second never having been formally taught? Prior to that, I had never wanted to get anything tattooed. I didn’t want anything permanent on my body and in my family tattoos were taboo.

As an elementary student sitting under a large tree on one of the last days of school called Field Day, sweltering and fun-filled, I found myself thinking bigger than any lesson taught to me in school. My entire class had just left the shade of the tree except for me, refreshed from Coolies and orange slices. I was caught in a daze picking up moss rooted in the damp ground. With chunks of dark earth lodged beneath my fingernails, I revealed a colony of ants just below the surface breaking down the traces left from the class picnic. I silently observed this lively moving and intricate system that had a different way of life from the one known to me, synchronized with purpose for one final outcome—life. For the first time, I was personally getting to know a system I wasn’t learning from a textbook. I lived it, breathed it, touched it and immediately knew there was something out there far bigger than me although in size I appeared larger than it, and that was exciting.

Why hadn’t I been given a lesson to observe the natural world in this way before, quietly and instinctively, living in the school’s backyard? Why wasn’t I taught about what my connection was to the world outside of the classroom? Imbued with “good” habits to study hard, get good grades, play sports, graduate, go to college, be successful and more, when did the question stop being asked why these were the only habits worth value? Where did the love of learning about a life within reach of our fingertips go rather than reading it out of books and in classrooms?

Age, children, an evolving culture, and the creation of my own space has given me the opportunity to question the methodology behind the modern classroom compared to human intuition. Going back to a time with no written history, my imagination has had to make leaps to make meaning on what caused the shift in thinking, supported by my own experience, education, and intuition. In my mind, it’s as if somewhere in time the ancient, young, evolving human consciously chose to cut itself free from a great love ending the Golden Age of humans. This disconnect, told to me by my own experience, probably came from some great, unexpressed pain experienced by the mother, child, or even both becoming an archetypal wound or pain passed down. That pain would have been explained away as something bad, even sinful, no longer valued or unpacked as a force that could give each of them meaning.

The young, adolescent mind grew up disconnected and partially orphaned. It was no longer supported or protected by that great love that had the capacity to hold pain—a love that first comes from the nature of a Great Mother. Human nature, problem-solving, developed a system of logic that comforted them and left the story of pain to the imagination. Culture evolved to protect us from that evil entity called pain. It gave us rules on how to domesticate ourselves, how to sanitize our environment, and valued the achievement we made to eradicate pain. We no longer defined the individual’s boundaries or the force it took each of the individuals to get there.

Times have changed since the first men who felt cut off from their spiritually inherited purpose. It’s women, now, too. Similarly and, yet, different to men, I have been a female traveling in a motherless world without a central figure in life or mythology to guide me as a role model. I have had to travel back to the mythological Forests of Confusion alone, connecting myself back with the Universe to find my Great Mother and how she can be retrieved to live here. I have evolved enough as a human not to leave my children behind in the process, the only hope I have of becoming the figure I wish to see in the world. I travel in time by way of creating my own space to write my story down as a legacy for my children and my children’s children. Through my writing, I walk up to and through memories of significant and multiple traumas, releasing them back into the masculine-driven world that has held a lot of confusion for me. I organize and reorganize my personal story through the science and art of storytelling using the Hero’s Journey as a cipher to understand its patterns.

I journal, blog, and interpret my dreams as a way to collect the data from my journey. I create art like cave paintings at the end of each quest to express my feelings. I meditate and pray, finding balance, while practicing my own personal integration of yoga and Pilates. I contemplate my own beliefs and values while incorporating wisdom that comes from old books, new books, art, music, friends, family, and podcasts. I have consciously walked away from cultural expectations of a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and traveler to create my own defining features. I have integrated a more personal, differentiated joy and happiness which naturally desires to serve my family. I have found myself becoming a Jedi in a world that unknowingly grapples with the loss of love from their Great Mother, too. And I raise future Jedis with a consciousness of love and hope to bring a greater balance back to the world that honors the Great Father and the Great Mother as partners.

All of this to say, what I have found in these moments where I have inherited back the intelligences coming from the Earth is my place and the many roles I have been made to play. Humans are the Earth’s storytellers as I observe myself and my connection to the outside world. My purpose, aside from wife, mother, daughter, sister, and traveler, is to share my story and to offer time and space for others to share theirs—to savor the healing that comes from us sharing our stories together and to feel our own individual pain collectively. Life becomes simpler, quieter, more enjoyable, and greater than any way I was taught in school as a girl. The harder work is rewiring the habits of naivete taught to work harder and faster all by myself. The simpler work is to get down in the dirt and play around for a little while, hopefully with others, and to decide for myself the meaning it holds. I never know what I might find on any given day but it has become an endlessly mysterious place to find the next thing I’m here to do.

______________________

A big thank you to my husband who has been listening to me share my big brained ideas with him for years. At times I have felt like one of the Alaskan salmon swimming against the flow of water, beating my bloodied body against the rocks, all because of an instinct and the season of time I was feeling. I haven’t always been able to get my husband to swim upstream with me. It’s hard to make sense of the illogical when Logic says, “Why am I going to beat and torture myself again? Because I’m supposed to? Because Nature is telling me to do that? Something is seriously sadistic with Nature.” But when Logic finally says, “Okay, Illogical, you’ve been telling me this for years. I’ll try it your way��once,” Illogical gets a silly grin on her face and says, “Okay. Buckle up, buddy.” And once Illogical and Logic set out to get to the top of the stream, bloodied and near death, to experience the mythological Shangri-La waiting for them, it’s soon realized this place, flowing with magic, healing waters, was the only place where the illogical could be experienced as making sense. And instantly you know how it was all worth it. All of it was so worth it. Thank you, my dear husband, for swimming upstream with me...finally. It is worth the wait. You are worth it. All of you, my dear family, are so worth it.

[purplebenjy]

1998

For the second time in his life, Benjy Fenwick had just been dumped. And it still sucked.

What had happened with Ollie had been as close to amiable as break ups could be, but what happened with Lisa cut deep.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

She’d said this against his lips when his hands were under her shirt. He’d laughed, thinking she was joking because she didn’t like what he was doing, but when Lisa had pulled away fully, Benjy had stopped laughing. He redid his pants and sat up in his back seat of the Honda Civic his brothers all pooled together to buy him for his sixteenth.

“Uh, okay? Why?”

Lisa had shrugged and fixed her blouse.

“I’ve got a crush on someone else.”

Jealousy had bloomed in his chest by then and Benjy felt his jaw twitch when he spat out the word “who?”

Lisa fished a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of her jeans and lit up. Annoyed, Benjy leaned over her and rolled down the window.

“Does it matter?”

Benjy sucks on his bottom lip for a second.

“What’s he got that I don’t?”

It was pathetic and he knew it, but he was blindsided. He thought things were going good. Not great, but good. Lisa was hot with long blonde hair and good tits. Not great, but good. She liked the same bands as he did, always dated skateboarders and tried to look like Courtney Love. She’d taken one of his flannels and hadn’t given it back and sometimes she blew him in his car after they went to the movies. It wasn���t love, but he was having a good time with her. He liked her a whole lot and she gave him attention and clout among his friends. He figured they’d at least go to prom together in a few months. Benjy watched as she shifted a little in her seat, ashed her cigarette out the window.

“He’s just different, Benjy. I don’t know.”

“Different how?” He tried to keep his voice level, but it still cracked. He reached for her hand but she pulled away.

“You’re a little uh....gay.”

He stared at her as she turned her face to look out the window.

“Groovy.” Benjy muttered, before sliding up and over the center console and into the driver’s seat. He punched the radio off, cutting Cheryl Crow off mid song. They sat in silence, the only sound Benjy’s exhaust. He pulled up in front of Lisa’s house and his brakes screeched as he parked.

“Benjy...” He flicked his eyes up to the backseat to look at her.

“It’s nothing personal.”

Before he could even say anything, she slid out of his back seat and was gone. This sentence has been haunting him ever since. It’s been two days and today when he saw her after fifth period, she was sucking face with that asshole named Trent.

Benjy doesn’t quite remember what happened after that, just Trent’s fist in his face and now his lip is swelling up. He cut the rest of the day and now he was here in the skatepark, trying and failing to try the new kind of flip he’d been practicing for weeks.

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Shit-“

He falls hard on his back, his board going up the half pipe and then falling back down to hit him in the ribs. As he slowly gets up, Benjy decides one thing;

It’s time to make it personal.

~

It starts out innocent enough, a couple cans on spray paint that he finds on clearance at the hardware store. Finding Asshole Trent’s car is easy too, he’s got a racing stripe on a fucking Jeep. He’s a surfer instead of a skater if the stupid board on the top of his stupid car is any stupid indication. Benjy doesn’t stalk them per se, just follows them to the beach. And waits in his own car until they run off into the waves. And pulls his sweatshirt tight around his face when he runs out of his car, low to the ground, doing a somersault partially to cover more distance but also cause it’s fun. He stands out wildly at the beach, and when he glances around, he sees a mother start to pull her two children in the opposite direction, glaring at him. Benjy snorts out his first laugh in two days and shakes the spray paint can, spraying the day-glo orange over the white Jeep with its stupid green racing stripe;

“Nothing personal.”

~

Trent’s stupid car, now complete with Benjy’s new tag, was the talk of the school. Most people were able to figure out it was him, but no one beyond Lisa and her new surfer girl aesthetic seemed to care. Benjy had a new hobby. The nothing personal tag started showing up all over his high school campus and around town, usually in whatever color was on clearance that week.

Suki was taking on extra kids during the day as a pseudo daycare so she didn’t have the time to notice that Benjy was late nearly every day thanks to either detention or running around, tagging the town. She didn’t notice, not at all, until he got a ride home in the back of a police cruiser.

All he was trying to do was to tag “nothing personal” on a wall on the side of an alley, when he’d gotten spotted. He’d stopped wearing the hoodie, mostly cause it was warming up but also cause it kept fucking with his hair-naturally that would be his downfall. Benjy’d been so good at out running the cops, so good at climbing trees and dirt mounds and sides of buildings to get away, but the bane of his existence, of course, was a chain link fence. The cop had basically picked him off the links like an apple and had detained him easily, pushing Benjy up against the fence after he’d pulled him down in a way he didn’t totally hate after he’d noticed how built the cop’s arms were. Pissed at himself for getting caught and at this strangely hot cop for catching him, Benjy refused to tell him anything, which resulted in a very confusing search for his wallet after he’d been handcuffed. The cop marched Benjy back to his squad car and all but thrown him inside. He hears the cop call in his name to the radio, reading it off of his driver’s license. He hears something he can’t quite make out and from his spot in the backseat through the bars, he sees hot cop balk.

“Are you sure?”

“Affirmative.”

The car’s engine flips over.

“Where do you live, kid?”

“Get fucked.”

Hot Cop mumbles something and his car squawks once as he starts to back up. And now Benjy still sat there, in the backseat with the bracelets digging into his wrists as the cop talks to his mom. Benjy hears the sound of another car pull up behind them and he twists around just in time to see the person get out of the car. And when Benjy sees who it is, fear shoots through him for the first time that afternoon.

It’s Alastor Moody, his dad’s old partner. He’s not in uniform like the hot cop, instead he’s in a pretty nice suit. When Al looks into the window, Benjy shrinks back into the seat. He watches him as he speaks to the other officer, who then nods and gets into the car Moody showed up in. He twists back around and something tugs at his chest when he watches his mom wipe at her face, obviously upset. He didn’t get why this had to be a big deal, it was just a stupid wall. He wasn’t hurting anyone, if anything he was making a boring thing look better. He sits up straighter now, his argument formed, but it dies in his throat when Al opens the driver side door and wordlessly starts the car. Benjy waits for him to say something, anything. For him to start yelling at him, tell him he’s a disappointment, a delinquent, anything. But nothing. Just silence. Especially when Moody punches off the radio.

“Are you going to read me my rights or what, old man?”

He’s trying to goad him, and it works. Kind of. Moody quietly rolls into a stop and glances up at him in the review mirror.

“You’re not under arrest.”

Somehow this makes Benjy more uneasy. He tugs at the handcuffs, making them clink.

“Then can you take these off?”

“Nope.”

Benjy grunts and props himself up against the door, chin on the windowsill, as much as he can be to be out of view of Al.

They drive for what feels like half an hour, but is probably ten more minutes, getting further out of the middle of town.

“Al?”

“So it’s Al now, not old man?”

“....are you going to kill me?”

Alastor chuckles darkly.

“Probably not.”

“Do you have your gun on you?”

“Do you need me to answer that?”

“Shit.”

He hears Moody chuckle again, and before Benjy knows it, they’re on the Golden Gate Bridge, driving out of the city completely.

“Are you taking me to military school?”

“Shut up, Benjy.”

He does, the events of the past few weeks playing in his head. Lisa. The tag. “You’re a little uh...gay.” Nothing personal. His mom crying. His spray paint covered hands forced behind his back right this moment.

“Al?”

“You’re really bad at following directions.”

“Do I seem too gay to you?”

The eyes that flick back towards him at the next stop light are confused now.

“Are you gay?”

“No.”

“But you....”

“You can be with guys and not be gay.”

“Okay okay, bite my head off. I’m trying to learn. So what’s seeming ‘too gay?’”

Benjy shrugs as best as he can.

“I dunno. Like I’m not masculine enough or something. Fucked up and wrong. Weird or girly or something-“

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Al says forcibly, before hitting his turn signal and exiting the freeway they were now on. “Well I mean, you’re a degenerate-“

“And artist-“

“-but other than that. Nothing. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Benjy sits up properly now, not totally believing him. They’re quiet again, but it’s not the scary quiet from before, it’s different. Loaded. Benjy waits a few more minutes before he breaks it.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“....did I uh, say sorry about that yet?”

Moody pulls over, getting out of the car and sliding into the backseat beside Benjy. He undoes the handcuffs and clips them to his belt.

“I’m not the one you need to be sorry to, Benj.”

“Well is someone else gonna come and kidnap me so I can apologize to them-I’ll shut up now.” He cuts himself off based on Moody’s look. “Who do I need to be sorry to? My mom?”

Moody sighs and gets out of the car, walking around the front to open the other door.

“Get out. Do you know where we are?”

“Uh...” He looks around, seeing older kids with backpacks, some on bikes and skateboards. Someone’s playing guitar on a bench. “Somewhere with hippies?”

Moody chuckles, ushering Benjy to the sidewalk.

“You’re not wrong. This is UC Berkeley, Benj. Your art teacher thinks you’re good enough to get in here if you keep going in the way you’ve been. And I mean, I don’t know nothing about nothing but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’re too shabby either . But you know who they don’t let in?”

It clicks as Moody stares him down.

“.....I’m guessing people with arrest records?”

Moody claps him on the shoulder.

“Bingo. I’m not ever gonna bail you out like this again, kid. I did this for your mom and your dad, yeah, but uh...I mostly did it for you. This looks a lot better to me than prison but...”

Moody shrugs.

“If you wanna throw away something great, that’s your choice. But if you do, the only person you’ll need to say sorry to is yourself.”

Moody lets go of his shoulder and gets in the car. Benjy stares at campus, the ideas Moody planted wiggling around in his brain. He could get in here? People thought he was good enough? He looks a little closer at the people sitting on the grass. They’re dressed a little strange, loose clothes and long hair and just...different. Like him.

He turns to the police cruiser window, hitting it with his knuckles until Moody cracks it.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with me?”

“Other than too much energy and a bad haircut? No.”

“Rude.” Benjy fails to hide his smile in a scowl. His smile grows as he looks at campus. It looks a lot more fun than prison; or even just regular old high school. A strange thrill shoots through him when he notices one of the students on the grass is laying on the lap of another boy. They’re talking about something and the boy laying down laughs before reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his boyfriend’s ear. Someone whizzes past him on roller skates and breaks the moment. Benjy turns back to the car window.

“Can I get a ride home?”

Moody takes a sip from his travel mug.

“Only if it’s in the back seat.”

Benjy groans.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Oh, and your mom told me to tell you you’re super grounded.”

“I figured.” Benj says with a shrug of his own as he casually opens the back door of the cop car and throws the few people across the street giving him strange looks a grin and a wave as he hops in.

“You keep the meter running?”

“I can still arrest you.”

Benjy laughs, suddenly a lot lighter. He sits on the side closest to campus so he can look at for as long as possible as Moody drives away.

“Al?”

“Yeah?”

Benjy leans forward as close to him as he can, face pressed up against the bars.

“Thanks.”

Al just nods, turning on FM radio.

“Don’t fuck it up.”

Benjy settles back in his seat, fingers twitching as he already wants to get home and sketch, suddenly much more motivated. He’s hoping he’s not grounded from that. He wants to get home and apologize, maybe even grovel and try to make it up to his mom. Unfortunately, right before they get to the bridge, they hit rush hour traffic. Benjy shifts in his seat, pressing his face against the bars again.

“Can you turn on the siren?”

“Nope.”

“Pussy.”

It might be a trick of the light, but he swears he sees Moody smile.

[intothehoid]

Ok, so I'm not gonna lie. I don't entirely remember the exact order of the days I spent in Beijing. My grasp of linear time is not always the best, so this part might get a little mushy.

The whole point of our time in Beijing was twofold. Most importantly, we had orientation. Now, it's worth mentioning that this program gave a LOT of freedom to its participants. At least, compared to other programs. There were restrictions. They had a no alcohol, no drugs, no dating policy (the first because it is VERY illegal in China. All sorts of BIG TROUBLE. The latter two largely because they'd allowed them before and things got messy and unfortunate and uncomfortable). But the other programs I had looked into were far more restrictive. There was one program that would send me to Russia that I had actually committed to - to the point of submitting a $300 non-refundable deposit - and only found out after I signed the contract that they didn't allow their volunteers to go ANYWHERE alone. At all. I would go nuts. In the end, the final factor was financial. China cost $1300 and Russia would have cost $2500. But the whole not being able to go anywhere (like not even in your neighborhood) alone was a significant factor. China actually ended up costing even less, but I'll get to that. The second purpose of our time in Beijing was as a tour of the capitol!

Anyways, this all goes to say that orientation was not quite as... intense as I thought it would be. The entire teaching structure was not nearly as, well, structured. Orientation mostly consisted of getting ideas for games and teaching exercises from each other and thinking about how to react in different scenarios. There were also some cultural differences that were explained (such as, it's not necessarily appropriate for students to visit teachers at their apartments, depending on the situation, people WILL take pictures of you, DO NOT DRINK THE TAP WATER, DO NOT FLUSH THE TOILET PAPER, etc.). I'll admit, I was worried. The majority of the teachers in our program were teaching in kindergartens and grade schools. I was teaching at a high school so I was worried that the games and the fun things wouldn't be enough, but I decided I would just plan more things later when I was settled into my new home. Orientation was fun and I got to meet some really cool people and that's basically all you really need to know about that.

Now, onto the good part. Cavorting about Beijing!

Ok, one of the first tourist things we did after running around at night was go to the Summer Palace. Contrary to the name, it did not defy the wintery weather and bring warmth. It was still freezing. So much so that the moat was entirely frozen over and a whole host of people were sledding on the ice. Less people were ice skating, but there were still some. It was pretty expensive to rent a sled so I declined. It had been several years since this moat had frozen over enough to skate on so it was very popular. Also, thinking back on it, it probably wasn't nearly as expensive as I thought it was back then. I hadn't gotten a good grasp of how Chinese yuan converted to US dollars, so I probably should have gone for the skating thing, but I guess you live, you learn.

This trip was a momentous occasion for me! It was the first time I had used a squatty potty. It was a bit daunting. I was kind of nervous (mostly because everyone else seemed so nervous about it). The bathroom smelled typical of a Chinese public restroom. That is, nasty with a thin veil of incense. Don't get me wrong. I think that most of them were cleaned fairly regularly. They just smelled bad. Worse than your typical public American restroom. Some public restrooms were outright nasty and others were like entering the worst porta-potty you've ever encountered only worse. One time, I went to pee in a bathroom that was just barely bigger than myself in the back of a restaurant right next to the small, odd-shaped basin where they kept the live fish for cooking. It was an experience. I love China.

It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Honestly. It was much easier to use the squatty potty than I thought and I didn't understand the people who continued to complain excessively. Maybe squatting to go pee just came more naturally to me. Eheheheh... (PSST! The secret if you’re worried about your clothes is to hold them out of the way. Also you have to learn how to squat down with both feet flat on the floor. It’s both a great stretch and if you do it right you can balance squatting down for a long time… both in the bathroom and just anywhere you want to rest and don’t have a seat. In the West/America (My realm of experience is limited to China, Thailand and America, ok!) we generally squat up on the balls of our feet and it’s both harder to balance and more tiring on your muscles. Seriously, guys! Learn how to squat on flat feet, it’s miraculous and life-saving!)

Anyways, the Summer Palace! It was my first close contact with old imperial Chinese architecture. I think, on the first night, I saw one of the old guard towers near Tiananmen Square, but that was from afar. Here I was, walking through centuries old buildings with some of the most intricate detailing I'd ever come across. We went through the front gate. It was very ornate! Very lovely! There were old, worn statues outside and the colors on the gate were beautiful. Then we went inside. This is where I saw the moat and the infamous bathrooms. Then we went across a bridge. The old style Chinese bridges are beautiful. They're made of stone (a LOT of things are made with stone in China. I think it's because there's a lot of stone that's relatively easy to quarry. Even with modern things, a lot of the embellishments will be made of stone styled after traditional designs. Clouds are a very popular design.) and have those big circular cut-out bottoms. This one was different, but still stone and still pretty. There were a bunch of small buildings surrounding the moat. I found out in retrospect this is called Suzhou Street. This is funny because Suzhou is a city down South in the Shanghai area named Suzhou that is really famous for silks and for ancient water towns. Basically, old one-two story, tightly packed towns with canals instead of streets. AKA Venice of China. So, my guess is this street is called Suzhou street because there were old, one-two story buildings surrounding a 'street' of water. From there, we went the Site of Sumeru Temple.

Please keep in mind, I knew very few of these names when I was there. Maps were a little... Hit or miss (another common theme). I also have forgotten many of these names because it's been almost two years since I was there. So I'm doing some research to supplement my names and such.

I wish I could do justice to the architecture with words. I'll include some of the few pictures I managed to post before the computer incident. It was a bit magical. The Site of Sumeru Temple was fronted by a wide courtyard. The temple was raised and two staircases paralleled the foundation it was raised on and formed a sort of triangle leading up to the temple. There were a couple of towers off to the sides of temple. The temple was largely red, white, and yellow (red and white walls, yellow roofs). I remember that the inside of the temple was cool, but apparently not that memorable because I don't really remember it. Oops. But after that we went to the Hall of Buddhist Tenets and that was amazing! (Upon further research, I'm not sure if this building was called the Hall of Buddhist Tenets or the Sea of Wisdom. Like I said, maps were... iffy.)

The inside was cool, but the outside was amazing! It was mostly a deep golden yellow, but inset in emerald green indentations were hundreds upon hundreds of approximately head-sized golden-yellow Buddhas! They were beautiful! I got some really cool pictures sitting up in this large white stone window frame set into the side of the building, but they were lost. (Looks nostalgically into the sunsets whilst inwardly swearing like a sailor at my hard drive... Seriously, I'm still not over this guys.) But there were these little Buddhas just covering the entire building and they were beautiful! Intricate and there were just so many of them!

After that the group I had kind of adopted wandered a bit up and down the walkways. There were some courtyards and cool walls. I remember we went to the back of the Hall of Buddhist Tenets and were exploring the backside. We took some more pictures there and explored some of the nooks and crannies of the building.

The Temple of Buddhist Virtue is one of the crowning pieces of the Summer Palace (that's like saying it's one of the shiny marbles in an entire bucketful. There were a lot of awesome things!) It's a large, rounded pagoda that rises up from a hill overlooking the large lake that borders the palace. It's actually more hexagonal, but those are details. Details. One of my favorite things about Chinese imperial architecture are the details. They're immaculate. Carved wooden designs and three dimensional patterns colored in red, emerald, cobalt blue, gold, and accents of white intertwining around small murals painted in exquisite color.

For some reason we decided not to go into the Temple. It might have been closed, but it didn't really matter because it was stunning from the outside.

We went down the hill to some of the lower portions. There were a lot more people there! It was a cool area. More walls there and it felt more like an... official complex as opposed to a park. The upper area felt more like a park. It was also beautiful and wondrous, just a different feel.

We didn't spend as much time there, so I don't remember as much. The one thing I remember more than any of the lower area is the view of the lake. We got an amazing view of the lake from above.

It was winter so the days were shorter. Even though it was still fairly early the sun was hanging low over the horizon and kissing the world with a red-golden light. Earlier I mentioned that we caught the tail end of Spring Festival. This was such a gift! Not nearly as many of the factories were up and running because people were on holiday so the air was much clearer than it might be at other times of the year! It wasn't consistently clear, but WOW! We got some beautiful days! This was no exception! There were some clouds and haze on the horizon, but - I'm gonna level with you real hard - when there was just a smidge of smog/haze in the air it made the sunsets radiant! Ok, have any of you grown up in an area that gets summer fires? I do, I'm from western Oregon. Lots of trees. Dry summers. Things burn. It's an unfortunately beautiful side effect of such destruction, but the sunsets are beautiful gold and red and the sun turns into a brilliant glowing red ball in the smoke. The air drips with color and saturated light weaves itself through the buildings and trees coloring everything!

It was a bit like this. Not quite as red this afternoon, but the gold of the setting sun was effusive!

A large part of the lake was frozen over as well closer to the shore, but enough of the lake was unfrozen enough for the boats to be out. On the frozen part of the lake, where the ice sparkled in the sunlight, dozens of people were skating and sledding on the ice. The sunlight illuminated the vast spread of the Summer Palace. There was so much that we didn't get to explore.

When I go back to China I would like to go back to some of the places I'd gone during orientation and honestly, spend far more time in these places. I don't know if I'll get a day as overwhelmingly lovely as this was, but I want to see all of the many, many things I missed. This view was breathtaking, both in its beauty and in the array of buildings in the palace area that we didn't get to visit. It's massive. We were there for several hours and I don't think we saw half of it.

After coming up from the lower area (heading back because we were beginning to need to find our meeting place) I ended up with a different group. Not gonna lie, not entirely sure how that happened. Eheheheh.... But they were fun! We decided to visit a couple more places in the palace and make a sort of round about way towards our original entrance because we had more time than we thought.

Our path came to a river and followed it. It was amazing! At first, it started out as just a bit of frozen water in a river-shaped dent in the ground. Then more ice began to appear. Then giants chunks of ice and suddenly, we were walking next to a river that wasn't really a river. It was a river that had been utterly frozen solid and then split into massive pieces of ice with the bottom of river rocks running in between. The river did this delightful thing where there were shelves of ice clinging to the cut stones of the walkway as the very edge. There was a drop of several feet before the frozen ice resumed. It was fascinating!

I loved this part (and not just because I loved the entire thing). We had inadvertently taken a route that found some of the less well-kempt parts of the palace complex. There were the areas tourists didn't normally go. Or maybe they did and they were kept less restored as a reminder.

Regardless of why they were less cared for, it was a bit haunting. In a very enchanting kind of way. I had just been utterly dazzled by this amazing series of perfectly restored architecture on an imperial scale. I had been delightfully bombarded by designs hundreds of years old simultaneously looked hundreds of years old and as if they had been created last week. I had seen buildings older than anything I had ever seen before and everything was fresh and impeccably restored.

And then the illusion faded.

I gradually found myself in a world where time hadn't been recaptured. Instead it was observed through a scratched lens. You could see the grandeur that used to be, but there were imperfections. The paint wasn't as vibrant, in some places it was peeling, in some places it was gone altogether and the wood beneath lay bare to the winter air. It was the same style and the designs were similar if not the same, but it was faded. There weren't as many decorations and these areas were far less colorful. It was magical.

The other areas were like stepping back in time to the moment when these buildings were still alive. This was walking through a half-gone memory. It was a step back in time, but seen through the view of the forgotten places and the spaces that don't shine. Ethereal. Somber. It was like walking through a held breath.

We approached the entrance from the side by the river where people were still skating and walked up behind the wooden buildings bordering the river and across the stone bridge. And that was the Summer Palace.

[ohstylesno]

Well, I think now would be a good time because then I can get her all pumped with all the awesome things we can do :)

1. Walk around Haight-Ashbury during day time. It’s the coolest neighborhood ever, I used to live there and every day was an adventure. 💜The neighborhood is known for its history of, and being the origin of, hippie counterculture and you can still feel that. Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane - they all lived there at one point. Map out a couple of hours here at least to walk the streets (Esp Haight St), visit the shops and people watch. 

2. If you’re into it, China town in SF is gigantic. Fun to walk around in. 

3. Fisherman’s Wharf is very tourist-y, but nice when the weather is good. By Pier 39, the infamous sea lions chill out. 

4. You should def take a ride on the old cable cars in SF. ☺️

5. If you appreciate art, the MOMA in SF is fantastic. 

6. The Mission area is another eclectic and fun neighborhood to walk around in. Looots of street art and cool little shops. Walk down the Clarion Alley for amazing street art! (The burritos are good in Mission too.) 

7. Take an uber and go see the Women’s building. Amazing. 

7.  Rent a bicycle, and bike over the Golden Gate bridge. Or walk across it, whichever you prefer. 

8. Bike/walk through Golden Gate Park. So many stunning areas. Here’s also the Victorian-era glass-ensconced Conservatory of Flowers - so beautiful. The de Young Fine Arts Museum (nice one again if you like art), and the Academy of Sciences. (The latter has a living rain forest you can walk in.) 

9. AT&T Park, watch a Giant’s game. Cool regardless if you like sports or not!

10. Castro is another fun neighborhood! SF is the birthplace of the rainbow flag, and Castro is like the LGBTQ communities epicenter. So much to see. And a few historic landmarks are here as well. Oh, and if you like music and movies, you should sing along to a movie at the Castro Theatre. We went and saw Grease. So much fun lol. 

11. Try salted caramel ice cream at Bi-Rite. Yum. 

12. The Painted Ladies! You have to see it when you’re in SF, haha. *cue Full House intro*

13. Lombard Street. Very typical tourist place. It’s enough to just take an uber there and view it. Fun to see, but not a place you hang out for long haha. 

14. Visit a beach! Ocean Beach for watching surfers and sunsets and Baker Beach for amazing views of the Golden Gate Bridge. (also gorgeous at sunset..) 

15. Twin Peaks for a good view of the city. (Just uber up there!)

16. The 16th Avenue Tiled Steps. (Just take an uber there as it’s a bit outside of the city center. Gorgeous mosaic steps.)

16. Palace of Fine Arts. Beautiful to walk around in. (I took a picture here and it got picked by hundreds of other candidates to be viewed in this art gallery in SF. SO IT’S NICE HERE.) Brides go there for their wedding shots…

17. If you have an extra day off, it’s worth hopping on one of those buses that takes you to Muir Woods, Napa and Sonoma ++ for wine tasting! Gorgeous places. 

19. Alcatraz. Not a must imo, but def interesting!

20. Attend a concert at The Fillmore. Iconic venue. 

21. WALK AROUND THE DIFFERENT AREAS IN SF AND LOOK UP. It’s honestly the most beautiful city. 😭

22. Have a drink at the bar on top of the San Francisco Marriott Marquis hotel in the evening. Nice view :)

23. Souvla for the best greek food ever. (Try the lamb salad and the greek fries)

24. Patxi’s for pizza, in Hayes Valley! (You should also walk around here a bit. Some nice shops.) 

25. I have to stop now lol 

[waycityparkingdestinations]

5 San Francisco Attractions You Can Drive To Now

The most iconic San Francisco attractions are just a drive away from wherever you are in the city. So, why not get behind the wheel right now and drop by?   

Driving yourself around San Francisco is fun, but be aware of the steep ascents and rush hour traffic. Parking in San Francisco city wouldn't be a problem; try to limit street parking and go for an affordable parking lot instead.   

Ready for your self-drive city tour? Here are some of the must-visit San Francisco attractions for your itinerary:  

Golden Gate Bridge  

Can you imagine a San Francisco without the iconic Golden Gate Bridge? Spanning across the strait of Golden Gate, the 1.7-mile wonder of the modern world is on every traveler's wish list.   

Did you know this San Francisco landmark was once called "the bridge that couldn't be built"? At least 11 workers lost their lives in the four years it took to build the bridge connecting San Francisco's Presidio and the Marin headlands. Braving the treacherous tides, rocks, wind, and fog, the single-suspension span was finally opened in 1937 and has since attracted visitors from around the world. Its twin towers stand 746 feet high, and the sturdy cables supporting the suspended roadway are over 7000 feet long. The magnificent structure is awe-inspiring no matter how many times you see it – from near or afar.   

Golden hour at the Golden gate bridge is not to be missed – early morning visits are a must, at least once. Pedestrians and bicyclists are allowed on the bridge's sidewalks during daylight hours. If you've got time, take a walk across the bridge but remember it is almost a 2-mile walk one-way. The view is worth it – keep your fingers crossed for a clear day so that you can see all the way to East Bay.

Driving across the bridge toward Sausalito is free, but you'll have to pay a toll on the way back. Limited parking is available at the north and south Vista Points; have a back-up plan to leave your car at a San Francisco parking garage in Presidio.

Golden Gate Park  

It is just a short drive from the grand vistas of the Golden Gate Bridge to the gardens, lakes, and museums at this massive urban park. The thousand-acre Golden Gate Park is brimming with some of the most-visited San Francisco attractions; one visit wouldn't be enough to experience it all.   

The Conservatory of Flowers is home to rare tropical blooms from around the world, while the Japanese Tea Garden welcomes you with a 1.5-ton Buddha, pagodas, and a moon bridge. The San Francisco Botanical Gardens will transport you to the Mediterranean or the Central American Rainforests instantly. The California Academy of Sciences highlights immersive experiences like coral reef dives, planetarium shows, and Penguin feedings. A ride on the newly-opened The SkyStar Wheel at the Music Concourse is a great way to see the park grounds from above. Guided Segway tours can reveal Golden Gate park hidden gems like the Shakespear Garden and the Lilly Pond. You can also rent bikes to explore the park and even take a trip up to the Golden Gate Bridge.  

Driving down to the Golden Gate Park is easy, and you'll find plenty of San Francisco parking lots around. Free parking is available throughout the park, but it is minimal considering the number of visitors the Golden Gate Park attractions host throughout the day. You can conveniently find a parking spot at a garage nearby and avoid the risks of street parking in San Francisco. Go online or download a San Francisco parking app to find safe and affordable parking deals.  

Fisherman's Warf  

Historical ships, the famous fishing fleet, sea lions basking in the sun, souvenir shopping, cauldrons of crab, sourdough French bread... the sights and smells of Fisherman's Warf is a unique San Francisco experience you must add to your itinerary.   

Pier 39 is undisputedly the most-visited place in San Francisco -- shopping, dining, and postcard views take it to the #1 spot on San Francisco city tours. Located along the city's historic Embarcardero, you can fill your camera rolls with the San Francisco skyline, Golden Gate, Bay Bridge, Alcatraz, and Angel Island from here. At Aquarium of the Bay, get acquainted with local marine life as you walk through clear acrylic tunnels holding up 700,000 gallons of water and 20,000 animals. More family entertainment awaits in the heart of Fisherman's Warf -- tour the Madame Tussauds Wax Museum on Jefferson Street and the San Francisco Dungeon next door.   

You can find your way to Fisherman's Warf without any trouble from the East, North, or South Bay – ‘100 Jefferson Street' on the GPS should guide you. Plenty of parking is also available near Pier 39; check Bay Street, Powell Street, and Green Street for cheap parking garages near Fisherman's Warf.  

Alamo Square 

The "Painted Ladies" of Alamo Square are San Francisco's all-time stars! You might have even seen them on the 90s sitcom 'Full House.'  

The "postcard row" at Hayes and Steiner Street is one of the most photographed locations in the city. Elegant Queen Ann era Victorian houses standing tall against a contrasting background of downtown skyscrapers in the distance – you don't want to miss that on your Instagram feed. You could also try a home tour or spend some time on the green square and take in all that beauty.   

Drive to the corner of Hayes and Steiner, and you'll find plenty of parking on the streets in the neighborhood. You can also lookup San Francisco parking garages in the area for a safer option.  

Union Square  

The San Francisco downtown hub for shopping and entertainment is a favorite among visitors and residents alike. The public plaza is surrounded by hotels, restaurants, upscale boutiques, art galleries, and theatres.   

The Union Square owes its name to Thomas Starr King rallies and Union Army support during the Civil War. At the center of the historical California landmark stands the Dewey Monument with Nike's statue – the Greek goddess of Victory.   

There's a lot to explore and experience at Union Square and can be done on foot. Leave your car at a secure downtown parking lot on Powell Street, Post Street, or Stockton Street and take a stroll down to the square.   

[minnuet-archive]

I’m Sorry, Logan

(I'm not talking about Logan Sanders, but I do have a character named Logan that’s based loosely off of him. TW: Suicide)

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. My eyelids refuse to lift and the world is a blurry mess.  I stumbled into my uniform, the alarm still blaring.  Eventually my patience ran out and I shut off the alarm. My backpack is lying in the corner and I shove it on. I grab a granola bar from the pantry and run to the school bus that’s already parked outside.  

I jump into the bus. I walk down the aisle and all of the noise, ranging from random conversation to yelling and fighting, fill my ears and overwhelm my mind. I almost want to plug my ears, but someone’s bound to take offense. As I sit down in a seat next to the seemingly quietest kids, the horrible stench of  7 year old raisins with a generous side of sweaty gym socks permeates my nose.  I hate the bus. I decide to try to space out.

When I arrive at the school, I went into the girl’s bathroom and wait until everyone had left the bathroom. I look really weird waiting for people to leave, and I kind of care. I kind of don’t though. Once everyone had gone, I slipped out of my catholic school uniform skirt and into pants.

My mother had refused to get me anything but the “girl’s” uniform which consisted of a tight, long skirt and a blouse. I hear the bell and run to class. I burst into the classroom and slide into my seat directly after my name is called.

“Late.” I  groan and get out my homework. Why must it be me?

Vanessa and her friends snicker across the classroom. “Hey look, the plant’s here.”

My ears burned and I clenched my teeth. Those assholes. I’m not a plant. “My name’s El-” My eyes widen as I catch myself. “-Ellie.”

Vanessa gasps overdramatically and then says, “It can talk?!”

I don’t respond and give her what she wants, but it takes all of my strength not to. God, how am I so stupid? I don’t care if I’m using the Lord’s name in vain. I already let them know I was asexual! And if I let it slip? My name’s Elliott. I could just imagine the crap they’d do and say to me. What would I tell them? Oh yeah, by the way, I’m pangender. That would totally work.

I take deep breaths. I look at the teacher and zoning out is easy for me. The lunch bell rings after a while and I walk towards the courtyard, finding one of the trees in the corner that no one ever sat by. It’s kind of sad and droopy, just like me.

“Hey Elliott!” I flinch at the noise. He smiles and sits down next to me.

I relax and say, “Hey Logan. How was the class?”

“How was class? Class was bull crap,” I crack a smile and when I do, he adds “as always. I love how you did your hair today. It’s pretty.”

As I eat my brought-from-home lunch, I look at him and blush. He’s way too cute. I now turn even redder and look away as I shove my sandwich farther into my mouth. Too far. The lunch bell rings after a few minutes. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Logan. Bye!”

He high fives me and starts walking towards his classroom. I walk towards mine. After Mr. Simon takes role call and I answer one question, I figure I’m safe and promptly space out for the rest of the day.

The bell rings and right as I’m about to walk out of the door, I heard Mr. Simon say, “Eleanor, may I speak to you?” A collective ‘oooh, you’re in trouble’ type sound comes from what’s remaining of the class as I walk up to his desk.

“Can I help you Mr. Simon?”

“Do you remember the dress code guidelines we went over at the beginning of the year?”

I start to panic. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you remember that girls are to wear skirts and a blouse and that boys are to wear a button down and pants.”

I mutter that I might remember something like that. “Why can’t I wear pants? I’m not wearing anything completely out of school uniform.”

“Yes, but we have a strict dress code and you, as a girl,” I flinch at the word girl. Of course, I can’t correct him. “are to wear a skirt. If you come to school tomorrow wearing pants, I’ll have you change back into a skirt, confiscate the pants, and then call your parents.”

I nodded my head as if I understand, which I don’t, and then walk out of the classroom. I know he hates me, but I had no clue he would go to these lengths to get me in trouble. I really don’t want to wear a skirt and that was only the first time I wore pants. On the other hand, I don’t want them to get taken away because I had to save up for months to get them and I don’t want to have to deal with my parents.

As I walk home, I approach the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge and smile. It’s so beautiful. Late afternoon fog is quite unusual this time of year and most people don’t like it, but I’m secretly happy about it. Walking the bridge is a really nice way to clear your mind in the morning. The breeze makes my clothes flow in the wind. The smell of salt water in the air fills my nose as I approach one end of the bridge.  

I start to cross the bridge and into the fog. It’s peaceful and the moist air feels cool and nice against my skin.

After around 45 minutes, I come out on the other side of the bridge. I continue to walk towards my house.

I can’t wait to lay down on the couch and not worry about homework.  Not because I finished it, but because I’m a procrastinator.

I turn down my street and see my house. As I approach it, I realize that my house has been egged. I see a note on the door and run up and grab it. Leave our school, you faggot. You don’t belong here.

Vanessa, her boyfriend, and their asshole friends were right about the last part. I don’t belong here. I wish I could leave, but it isn’t exactly possible. I rip up the note and look up at the eggs that are covering my home.

Ugh, I don’t want to clean this up… but my parents will ask why it happened if I don’t. Plus, they’ll make me do it anyway. I sigh as I slowly walk inside to grab a mop and some other cleaning supplies.

I open the closet door and grab everything I think I might need. I’ve never cleaned up eggs, so I’m just guessing.

I walk back outside and start to wipe the door with a random rag that I found. Once I finish cleaning everything that I can reach from the ground, I place all my supplies on the roof overhang. I awkwardly climb onto the overhang. P

I got on my knees shakily and started to clean the roof. Damn, could these kids throw. It takes what seems like years, but was really a couple hours to finish cleaning the house.

I take a risk and jump from the overhang. I didn’t break any bones! Yay!  I grab all the cleaning supplies and shove them in a closet as I walk to my room. I get changed into some paint stained jeans and a band t-shirt that my parents begrudgingly bought me for Christmas.

I walk back out and throw myself on the couch. I log into an app that’s similar to tumblr except not as widely known. It has less asshole-ish people. I open a chat with one of my best friends,  AchillesWasTheOriginalGay™ also known as Bentley or Ben. Sometimes I call him Benjamin because he hates when people assume his name.

Me: What’s up, Benjamin?

He responds almost immediately.

Ben: You’re an ass. But not much. You?

Me: House got egged. Assholes at school.

Ben: Oof that sucks, dude.

Ben: Hey I gtg do homework. Talk later?

Me: Sure.

I turn off my phone and put it down. I hear my mom pull up so I sit up and take out my school binder. I place my homework from yesterday in front of me so I look like I’ve been doing homework since the second I got home.

Directly after I finished setting up my fake homework station, she walked in. “Hey, mom!” No, too cheery. Calm down.

She smiles happily, “Hi, Ellie!” I cringe at my old name, but she didn’t seem to notice my overly excited greeting. “How was your day?” My little sister, Adia follows her in and then runs to our room.

I consider telling her that it wasn’t great for a second but decide against it, because she’d just ask questions. “It was good. Yours?”

“It was fine. Busy as always.” I give her a knowing nod and then I see her smile slowly fade. I tilt my head in confusion. “What did I tell you about those jeans? You can only wear them when you’re painting. They’re disgusting and baggy. Wear some nice tights next time.”

I roll my eyes and she scoffs as she walks into the kitchen. She puts her bags down. Adia runs back out of our room with a stuffed animal in her hands and she sits down next to me.

“Hi Adia. Did you have fun at school today?”

”Yeah!! I played with Sammy.”

“That’s fun.” She smiles proudly as if having a friend was something to be proud of, which in my case, is true, but in her case, not so much. She has lots of friends.

I’m contemplating this when I hear my mom start to reheat leftovers from last night. She slaps all of the food on three plates and we trudge over to the table and sit down.

My mom turns on the T.V. and we watch a sitcom as we shovel food into our faces. Eventually, the episode ends. We're too lazy to change the channel, so we leave it.

My mom is seated facing the screen and I watch her chuckle. I turn to the T.V. and freeze. It's a pride parade. All of a sudden I hear Adia’s excited voice.

“Ooooh! Rainbows!” I look at her and smile a little bit. She doesn’t even know. Sometimes I wish I don’t know about LGBTQ+.

“Those rainbows are for gay people.” My mom says gay as if it’s the worst thing you can be.

Mom continues, “You don’t want to be gay. Being gay is bad. You’ll go to hell if you’re gay.”

Now she just looked confused. “Why is it bad?”

“Because a man is supposed to be with a woman. That’s how God created us.” Mom says.

I finish eating my food as fast as I can to escape this horrible conversation and then interrupt. “Can I be excused? I’m getting tired.”

Before my mom can respond, my father swings open the front door.

This time, it’s not just me who’s frozen. He’s holding a beer bottle. His tie is loose. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and it’s stained.

What makes it most obvious that it’s happened again is his eyes. They’re huge. And not in the caring way.

He smiles goofily and stares at Adia and I. “No hug? No ‘Hi daddy!’ or ‘Thanks for working your ASS off every day to provide for us’ ?”

My first instinct is to pull Adia closer to me and step one foot in front of her. My second instinct is to throw something at him so we can all run.

I hold back. Mom’s too close to dad. She would never be able to run away in time. He could hit her. Even break a bottle over her head and kill her. She’s not a good person, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Go. To your rooms. Now.” I turn to my mom in utter surprise.

“But mom-“

“GO. NOW.”

I grab Adia and make sure she’s safe and locked in her room before running to mine. I press my ear against the door because I might be able to get an idea of what’s happening. I can’t hear anything.

I slump down and hang my head in my hands. Holy christ, what is wrong with my family?? Why doesn’t she just kick him out when he’s hungover? Why don’t WE leave?

I can't deal with this.

I'm sobbing now. I clench my teeth to trap the noise in my mouth.

Over the course of a few minutes, I draw myself up onto my knees and then stand up, walking over to sit down at my desk and start to scribble words that seem right on a paper. After a minute of writing, I reread it. It's not good enough. I crumple up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash.

I hug my knees tightly, trying not to make any form of sound. My breathing slows back to normal the longer to sit there and I grab another piece of paper. I start to write once again, this time neater.

I wake up the same way as yesterday. I put on my pants and blouse. I don’t care if Mr. Simon tries to force me to wear a skirt. I’m not taking any bullcrap on my last day of school. And life.

I walk onto the bus and don’t even pay any attention to the kids that are already on it. I hear a kid yell “Get off, dyke!” and I resist flipping him off… well, I try to resist flipping him off.

   I take my time walking into the classroom and I sit next to Logan. A kid comes up to me.

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

“Yeah. I know. My seat’s over there. Feel free to take it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something more, but he turns to walk towards my actual seat.

   Logan looks at me. I wonder if he knows something off. That taking some other kid’s seat isn’t something I’d normally do.

   If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Hey. How was your day?” He laughs and then adds, “Holy crap that was such a mom question.”

   I snort and answer, “Oh my god, you’re right. But it was good. I’m tired as heck though.”

   “No kidding.” I grin at him as Mr. Simon looks at us again. I don’t really pay attention in math. I just talk to Logan. It’s relaxing to not have to care. To not have to worry about the consequences to my actions.

   When we walk to lunch, I start complaining to Logan about how much of the day we have left.

   “Uhh, you know that we have an early day, right?”

   “Oh! I do now.” He chuckles and smiles. I feel my cheeks get a little bit warm. He starts to talk about some fandom of his and I try my hardest to pay attention.

   I don’t really know what triggers this, although I have an idea, but I realize something. I’ve never kissed someone. Ok, this needs to change. Dying a virgin is one thing, but never having kissed someone? That’s a whole other level of sad. I feel weird thinking this, but I know exactly who I want to be my first and last kiss.

   He’s about to start another thought, but I interrupt him. I don’t care. “You’re amazing.”

   He looks at me as if I said the strangest thing that could possible said. “I mean it. You’re always there for me and you talk to me about things we like. I feel I don’t thank you enough for that.”

   He still looks weirded out but smiles warmly. “Right back at you,” he responds as he fidgets with his hands and looks down at his shoes. I gesture for him to continue and, without hesitation, he does.

   Logan sighs and packs up his lunch as the bell rings.

“Hey, will you walk home with me? I know you normally hang out here for a while but I want to talk to you.” I know this is a risk.

   Just like before, he doesn’t say anything, but now I’m sure that we both know something’s wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

   We grab our stuff and we start walking. He starts walking faster and gets ahead. This is not acceptable.

   I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. We’re laughing so hard we can barely breathe. When we reach the bridge, were both out of breath. We bend over and start panting like dogs on a hot day.

   I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. We're laughing so hard we can barely breathe. When we reach the bridge, were both out of breath. We bend over and start panting like dogs on a hot day.

I stand up straight again and look at him. His face is glowing and his brown eyes are big and happy. He runs his hand through his slicked back (with both gel and sweat) hair and adjusts his glasses. He even tightens his tie. What a dork.

I know this is the moment. I move closer to him and pull his tie towards me with one arm and put the other around him as I kiss him.

The salty air blows through my hair and I feel on top of the world. After a couple of seconds, I step away. He looks confused. He wasn't ok with it. Oh god, what have I done? I'm about to keep running down the bridge when he hugs me.

This time, I'm the unprepared one. After a minute, he lets go and slides his hand into mine. We continue walking across the bridge. There's nothing we need to say and it feels amazing.

We don't have to explain ourselves. We can just walk quietly together. And it's not awkward.

   My happiness fades away as I realize this is the first and last time I’ll be able to do this. I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. I already taped the note on to his backpack when he hugged me. This has to be the last time. Nothing good can last forever. Nothing can last forever.

   We reach the other side. “Goodbye, Logan.”

   He laughs. “You say it like this is the last time I’ll ever see you. This is just goodbye for now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

   I feel my heart shatter a little bit more than it already had but I cover it up with a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just goodbye for now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek and then whirls around.

   He starts to walk towards his house. I turn towards the water.

Tears spill silently down my face. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. I want to run to Logan and scream his name, but I can’t. This has to be done alone.

I lift one foot onto the railing and then the other. This is it.

One last tear slips down my face as I whisper raspily, “I’m sorry, Logan.” I know it will be peaceful. A quiet ending. Not that I deserve one, but I guess it’s a favor to myself. I let go of the pole that I had been holding onto.

And then I’m falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Gone.