#also I can’t go into town on Tuesdays or Thursdays now for fear of running into the kids on their breaks 👍

[gambitandrogues]

YOU GOT EXPELLED??

LMAO YEAH BUT I MAINTAIN IT WASN’T MY FAULT (and tbf expelled is the most dramatic way of putting it, but also the funniest)

So let’s set the scene: autumn, 2022. My sister and I are homeschooled. You know how many classes there are for homeschooled kids in Pennsylvania? Nada.

There is one option, however.

The ultra-conservative Christian homeschool co-op in town.

My family being my family, we decide to risk it! It’s not…great, exactly, but not all the kids suck, and I’ve got the teachers wrapped around my finger. My sister has some negative experiences, though, and my parents decide to pull her out. Now, this is November, if I recall correctly? And the co-op said my parents still had to pay her tuition. In full. For the entire semester. My parents said “fuck no <3” and said they’d pay for the amount of weeks she attended. The school told them they had two weeks to change their mind, or measures would be taken. I think that gave them until November 15th.

I, meanwhile, am clueless! I knew my sister dropped out, but that was it. I was living laughing and loving. Until that fateful day. November 8th.

I had gotten to school a little early, and was hanging out in the break room until my first class started. An administrator I’d never spoken to came over and said she had to talk to me outside. I was like “??? Sure.” Once outside, she filled me on the situation with payment and told me that I was not supposed to be attending school until my parents had forked over the cash. That directly contradicted what they’d told my parents. Also they were supposed to have two weeks, until the 15th. It was the 8th.

Miss Administrator made me call my mom and ask her to come pick me up. Thank god my mom didn’t work far away lmfao. The co-op had me sit alone with my backpack outside until she came. And we have quite literally never heard from them again, not even about payment 😭

And that’s the story of how I got expelled ✨✨✨ like I said, that’s a harsh way of putting it. It was upsetting in the moment, but now I find it so fucking funny LMAO

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Hello. I am, as you know, an American. I turned eighteen in 2014, voted in my first presidential election in 2016, and voted in my second presidential election last week via early voting in the state of Texas. 

I’m reflecting right now on the difference between those experiences. This is going to be a very self-indulgent essay. 

The 2016 election was in my third and final year of undergrad at Texas A&M University. At the time, I was living with a roommate who grew up in a town of 2,000, all of them members of her church. I loved her very much, but she was the most sheltered person I’ve ever met. 

I was only a few years ahead of her. My home growing up was deeply liberal about many of the things that counted, but deeply conservative on equally important things. For me, leaving for college was a radicalization speed-run.

I, a good Memphis girl, moved to Texas and encountered for the first time in my life white homogeny and everything that comes with it. I made most of my friends at A&M through a Christian orientation camp that I attended, then worked at. I went to school at a history department that was overwhelmingly male and war-obsessed. 

My second semester, I was randomly sorted into a writing seminar on the American Civil War and Reconstruction. There were eight other students in that class, all of them Texans. By day two I had gotten into a open fight with one of my classmates after he used the phrases “one of the humane parts of slavery” and “the secession declarations are moving and beautiful appeals, if you read them,” and “well I’m not going to criticize my own state.”

We got into at least one yelling match per week from that point forward. It was a formative experience for me-- not just him but the seven other students that took his side every time because they just couldn’t conceptualize anything outside of their own experiences, and frankly, I couldn’t either. 

It rocked my world to be surrounded by people who told me, among other things, that their high schools flew the Confederate battle flag or Lee was their all time role-model (because he actually didn’t want to secede! He didn’t believe in it, but Virginia did, so he put his own qualms aside and served his country, and that’s what we all have to do). I ran a survey once by knocking on every door in a dorm hall and asking the two people inside why the Civil War happened. 

I feel like you can guess the most common answer I got. Only two said slavery. Six didn’t know what the Civil War was. 

The last week of the semester, my class read a collection of recorded oral accounts of freed slaves during Reconstruction. My nemesis told me that he “didn’t realize black people actually had it bad.” At the same time, I was struggling with my sexuality, my relationship to my religion, my relationship with my parents, and a handful of newly-diagnosed but long-existing mental illnesses. I wasn’t having fun. 

Over the next three years, I tried my hardest to humanize the people that said disgusting things about minorities, poverty, and me personally. I barely won on that one, and I’m actually really proud that I did, even if it took me a few years. I can trace the biggest change in me directly to my nemesis from the history department, the kid that made me so mad that I started arguing back. I was too scared to do that before. 

By 2016, I was in full existential spin-out-- a very suddenly liberal kid fighting my whole family, all of my classmates, and most of my friends in an explosive political climate, the first I had ever participated in. 

I voted by Tennessee absentee ballot in 2016. On election night, I ordered takeout for me and my roommate, who I knew had voted red. Confident, like pretty much everybody, that Clinton would win, I was trying to show her that I didn’t hate her. She went to bed after dinner, also so certain that Clinton would win that she didn’t bother to stay up. 

I sat in front of my laptop sewing a birthday present for a friend (Kenza, actually), while the votes came in. I wasn’t super alarmed when the map turned red. I just figured the blue states hadn’t finished counting yet. 

The map didn’t get any bluer. By 1am, I knew what was about to happen. They called it an hour later, while I was sobbing on my floor. I threw up in the bathroom out of pure anxiety. I got two anonymous messages telling me the asker was going to commit suicide. Neither of them responded to my replies. I don’t actually know what happened to them. 

I remember riding the bus to class the next morning and distinctly seeing that most of the racial minorities there had swollen eyes from crying. The girl with the pride stickers all over her laptop didn’t show up that day, and I’m kind of glad she didn’t, considering the way some of our classmates in the back were loudly talking about “the gays.” Hope she’s okay.

My roommate came home completely unaware that Clinton lost. I was crying in my room when that happened. I remember showing her a demographic map of who voted which way. She got visibly upset when she figured out what races how. I think she really did feel guilty. 

That Thanksgiving, one of my cousins tweeted, “I can’t wait to go argue with my liberal cousin today. The wins. Keep. Coming,” an hour before he walked into my house. Inauguration day was January 20, 2017. I decided to go to law school a week later, the day the president signed the Muslim ban. That’s when I figured out for the first time just how much power the courts have. The last three years have only enforced that. 

I got angrier and angrier during law school, egged on by a few friends but more than anything just... finally conscious of exactly how the American system works and exactly who’s behind it. I still live in Texas, farther west now, and I’m working my first legal job. I’m going to be a licensed attorney next week. 

I went back and forth for months about how this election was going to shake out. I knew there wasn’t going to be an overwhelming red majority this time, but my big fear was an election close enough that the Supreme Court could take it. That fear doubled last month, at RBG’s death. 

I was hoping for a blue enough victory on election night that there wouldn’t be a week of uncertainty, but that was unlikely, and it didn’t happen. I obsessively refreshed my election map all of Wednesday and Thursday, aware that at least some states would flip after mail-in ballots came in, but unsure which would. 

Again, my great fear was a blue victory held down by only one state. Given (I would say “any” chance here, but I don’t mean “any” chance because genuinely jurisdiction or facts or legal merit don’t matter to the Supreme Court) an opportunity to make one (1) decision that hands over a red election, please know that a conservative supermajority would take it. I cannot emphasize enough how true that is and how important it is for all of us to grasp that. 

Watching Georgia flip was one of the best experiences of my life, and it’s a little hard for me to articulate why, but I’m going to give it a shot here. I’m southern. I’m from the South, and for this conversation it’s really important that I’m from Memphis, a black city and a center of black music and culture. 

When people think about the South, they think of the white South, and on some level, they should. It is absolutely essential to understand the white South in order to understand American history. Let me be 100% clear here. That is not a good thing. American majority history is not good. We are not a good country. 

It’s near-impossible to understand why that’s true without knowing exactly what happened in the white South and exactly what is still happening there now. With that, however, is another truth that most folks don’t get. 

The SouthTM is white and needs to die. The South as it actually exists is partially white yes, but it is also everyone else that lives here, particularly black folks. Southern culture is black, not white. Georgia flipped because the people that have always, always been there finally got to crack apart the conservative machine holding the South hostage. 

That’s amazing. It’s fucking mind-blowing. I watched it happen at 3:30 in the morning days after Election Day, and holy shit holy shit, Georgia flipped. Atlanta won. Holy fucking shit. 

I would be terrified right now if only Georgia flipped, because SCOTUS would have found a way to throw out a few thousand votes. Inevitable. Absolutely certain on that one. 

With a few states of buffer, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I really do think it’s over. 

I came home after work on Friday and immediately went to sleep because I hadn’t really done that since Tuesday. I woke up at noon today, checked the map, checked my messages, and saw what happened while I was gone. After that, I went back to bed until 5:30pm. I’m really just getting up now, after most of 24 hours asleep. 

I don’t know if I would say that I’m happy right now, but I am overwhelmingly relieved. I’m under no illusions that a Biden victory will solve everything, but I also do think this is a real thing to celebrate. I’ll take suggestions on how to celebrate right now, actually, since I’m finally awake. 

I’ll be angry forever, I think, but this is a good thing, and I’d like to enjoy it. If you’re happy right now, hey, tell me about it. I’ll be thrilled with you. I want to hear it. Congrats to all of us. Love y’all. 

[spicycreativity]

The Core Four (Logan, Roman, Virgil and Patton) are somewhere spooky, old house, in the woods, etc etc, and it's a place where poltergeist/demon/ghost/devil/spirit/whatever you want Remus resides and haunts and is scary and evil in. (Or they summon him) And he's like "Ooh time to mess with them muahahahaha!" but he sees Patton and gets like this "Cute boy!" And gets interested in Patton instead.

Boop

Words: 2k

Pairing: Pre-slash Intruality

Other notes: College AU, mild Vitaminwater slander, somewhat based on my own college experience of being straight edge and bored all the time and also owning multiple fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal purchased from the tent outside the gas station down by the on-ramp on the far side of town 🥴 Our abandoned dorm building was not haunted, tho

Content warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (not depicted), mentions of overdosing (non-graphic), Remus is sexually forward toward Patton, swearing, innuendo, etc. Still, I'd only rate this T

While it was rooming assignments that brought Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil together during the first weeks at university, it was their mutual unwillingness to break any sort of rule that kept them together. While their peers were drinking smuggled alcohol and racking up write-ups from the RAs, the foursome would sit on Logan and Virgil's side of the dorm suite drinking Vitaminwater and attempting to entertain themselves with board games and Netflix. This, predictably, got old quickly and weekends soon became a desperate battle to stave off boredom and existential ennui.

The fraying thread of Roman's patience finally snapped the night Patton suggested Pogs. The lack of adventure had chafed at him longer than it had the others and he secretly longed for some sort of thrill, even if it meant breaking the rules.

"Ugh," Roman threw himself backwards onto the pillow he'd stolen from Logan's bed, nearly knocking over Patton's mostly-full bottle of grape Vitaminwater. "We're seriously so lame that we can't think of anything better to do than Pogs?" 

"Hey," said Virgil from atop his bed, and shook a few drops of açai-blueberry-pomegranate sugar water onto Roman's forehead.

"Sorry, Patton," Roman added, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant sensation. "No offense, but I'm just so bored! I was expecting more adventure when I finally left my dreary old hometown."

"I thought you told us you were from Los Angeles," Logan said, tossing a package of Wet Wipes down onto Roman's chest. "And Virgil, I understand why you would want to teach Roman a lesson, but please try not to stain my pillowcase."

"What do you wanna do, Roman?" Patton asked, adjusting himself where he was propped up against one of the legs of Logan's bed.

"I don't know! All I know is that I have the most boring Snap story out of everyone in my stupid 100-level History class. Remy went surfing the other day. And he's from Nebraska! How does he know how to surf?" 

"There it is," Virgil said.

Roman sat up again and opened up the Wet Wipes so he could clean off his face. "Lightning round! Suggestions. Go!" He pointed at Virgil.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh-- Sca-- Uh, horror marathon. Horror movie marathon."

"Ugh, no." Roman pointed at Logan.

"Studying."

"Oh, come on. Patton?"

"We all go to bed early so we can wake up and get breakfast together before the dining hall runs out of waffle batter?"

"Guuuys." Roman pointed at Virgil again.

"Man, I dunno, Roman! Like I'm the expert in what looks good on a Snapchat story."

"You're the one who's bored," Logan added. "Why don't you suggest something?"

"That's not how it works!" Roman shot back. "I'm the-- the arbiter, the czar! You're the idea guys."

"Okay, fine!" Virgil leaned over the edge of the bed to better give Roman the evil eye. "How about we break into the shut-down dorms with a ouija board and try to contact the spirit of that kid who OD'ed in the bathroom?"

"That's the spirit," Roman said.

"Ha," Patton said weakly.

"Wait," said Virgil, already desperately trying to make eye contact with Logan. "I was kidding. You can't be serious."

"No, no, that's a great idea! Virgil, go get your ouija board and whatever other spooky shit you have tucked away.

"We're going now?" Patton squeaked.

Logan sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Roman, anything you post to your Snapchat story can potentially be turned in as evidence and used to incriminate you. I suggest you leave your phone behind."

"Wait!" Virgil ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "You can't possibly be on board with this."

"I'm not," said Logan. "I am offering Roman advice for the same reason high school nurses' offices offer condoms: not as an encouragement, but as a safety measure. Either we all agree to go now or we all agree to go tomorrow night after Roman spends the whole day pouting and whining--"

"Hey!"

"So I suggest we just get it over with," Logan concluded.

"Seriously?" Patton was already pale and shaking, holding a stray hoodie of Virgil's close to his chest.

"It's okay, Patton," Virgil said, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'll let you wear my horn of protection amulet."

It took just under an hour to get everyone changed into darker clothes and outfitted with protective symbols from Virgil's collection. In addition to silver amulets and charms, he had handed out fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal to all of them with careful instructions not to lose them, as he wanted everything back at the end of the night.

But soon (all too soon for Patton) they faced the looming silhouette of the abandoned Monroe Hall. It was in surprisingly good repair despite the lack of security cameras and floodlights to deter intruders. In fact, the only light came from the blue emergency callbox situated a few yards down the path.

"We, genius," Virgil said, turning to Roman. "How do we get in?"

"I don't know!" Roman tossed up his hands. "I'd Google how to pick a lock but somebody" --he glared at Logan-- "made us leave our phones in the microwave."

"I already told you, it's a functional Faraday cage and--"

"Yeah, yeah, how about we save the science lectures for 8:00 am on Tuesdays and Thursday," Roman said.

"That was oddly specific," Virgil muttered, trying and failing to exchange a glance with Patton, who was staring at the ground and turning over the quartz crystal in his hands. "Wait, I've got an idea." He took his own chunk of quartz out of his pocket and slammed it through the glass door, sending a shower of tempered glass clattering onto the tiled floor inside. Then he stepped through the hole and beckoned the others in after him. "Let's go."

Patton made a muffled sound of fear and grabbed onto Logan's arm.  "You don't really think there's a ghost, do you?"

"Of course not," Logan said, leading Patton inside and following Virgil to the stairs.

"Wait!" Roman jogged ahead to lead the charge. "Are we not gonna talk about Virgil just--"

"Found a broken door and stepped through it?" Virgil interrupted, bumping Roman with his hip. "No, we are not."

Roman led them up a flight of stairs and down a corridor similar to the one in their own dorm building. All the doors they tried were locked, so they set up the ouija board in the hallway outside the bathrooms.

"Okay, gang," Virgil said once they were all sequestered around the board. "Pointer fingers on the planchette."

"Not our whole hands?" Roman asked.

Virgil shot him a sideways glare. "I'm sorry, are you the expert on the occult?"

"Are you?" Roman asked.

"Relative expert," Virgil said, sticking out his tongue. "Now. Pointer fingers on the planchette."

"I really don't know if this is a good idea," Patton said, extending a shaking hand.

"You should be more afraid of campus security," Logan said. "Although from the state of the building, it appears that we are the first to successfully enter."

"Nothing's happening," Roman complained, his eyes on the planchette.

"We haven't asked a question yet, genius," Virgil sneered.

"It seems rude to barge into someone's house and just start asking questions," Patton said. He looked up, addressing the ghost. "Hi!"

The planchette jerked and began to shake. Anticipating Virgil's accusation, Roman held up his other hand. "It's not me!"

"Shut up!" Virgil snapped. "It's moving."

They read the letters out loud together as the planchette began to move around the board: "N-I-C-E." Pause. "C-O-C-K."

"Oh, come on." Virgil grabbed the planchette and threw it at Roman's face. "Not funny."

"I swear that wasn't me!" Roman said, smacking the planchette down. It clattered across the board and came to a stop by the number '2.'

"Roman," Patton chided, "it's really not nice to mess with us like that."

"You too?' Roman said. He turned to Logan. "Come on, Specs, you know it wasn't me."

"I know it wasn't a ghost. I know it wasn't me. I know Patton and Virgil aren't likely to make that sort of joke. Therefore, I can safely posit that it must have been you. Although I wouldn't make an accusation without more evidence."

"Oh, come on!" Roman put his hand on the planchette despite Virgil's noise of protest. "Hey, spirit. Can you do something else spooky so my friends stop accusing me of--"

What happened next was equal parts anticlimactic and chilling: Roman's eyes turned green and began to emit a gentle glow. He was silent for only a moment before turning to Patton with a chipper smile. "Hey, hot stuff! Nice cock."

"Whoa" said Virgil, scrambling backwards toward the wall. "What the fuck."

"He invited me in!" said Roman, or more accurately, the ghost possessing Roman's body.

"Oh my God," Patton said. "That's not Roman."

"Yeah, no shit!"

"I'll give him back in a minute," said the spirit. "I just had to shoot my shot with hottie over here. What's your name, sugar?"

"Uh," said Patton, glancing wildly at Virgil (who was fumbling in his pocket for his holy water or his salt, whatever he found first) and Logan (who was actively blue-screening). "Patton?"

"Nice to meet you, Patton." The ghost stuck Roman's hand out for a shake. "Name's Remus. Has anyone ever told you you're kinda DILF-y for a college student?"

"N-no?"

"Well, you are."

"Thanks, I guess." Patton sat back and pulled his legs up to his chest in an unmistakably defensive pose. "Um, is there something that you wanted, Remus?"

"I already told you!" Roman's face beamed in a way it never had before, his eyes twitching strangely in their sockets. "I just popped in to shoot my shot. So?"

"He's propositioning you," Logan hissed. 

"I…" said Patton, panic whiting out his mind. Unable to find words, he held up his left hand to show off the silver band on his ring finger.

"You're married?" Roman's body leaned forward to read the engraved writing. "True love waits."

"It's a purity ring," Virgil explained, finally extricating a small vial from the tangle of cords and chains in his pocket. "And this is holy water."

"Wait," said Remus, "are you guys exorcising me? Cause I swear I'm gonna give you your friend back. I'm dead, not evil. Also," he turned to Patton, "is that a no?"

"Yes!"

"Wait, so you do wanna bang?"

"No!"

"Alright, alright, damn." Remus leaned Roman's body back, putting up his hands in a defensive gesture. "You know, I was gonna go full poltergeist and try to see if I could make you all cry, but I changed my mind when I saw Hot Pat-tato. Soooo, you're welcome."

"Yeah," said Virgil, "I'm not sure we should be thanking you for taking over our friend's body. Give him back, by the way."

"Wait!" said Patton. "Remus, why aren't you at rest? Is there something we can do to help you move on?"

"Nah," said Remus. "To be honest, I just wanted to haunt the crap out of some dumb college kids."

"Need I point out," Logan said, "that you are also a dumb college kid?"

Virgil looked around at the empty halls, walls of closed doors, the dusty spiderwebs hanging like streamers in the corners. "Wait. There's nobody to haunt."

"Yeah," said Remus. Roman's shoulders shrugged. "It's been kinda lonely and boring. 

"Sucks to suck," Virgil said, brandishing the sealed vial of holy water. "Okay, time to go."

Remus sighed and crossed Roman's arms over his chest. "Fine. I didn't really want to haunt you guys anyway."

"I might…" Patton twisted up his mouth thoughtfully, rubbing his fingers along the quartz crystal in his pocket. "Maybe I'll come back and say hello sometime."

The grin that unfurled across Roman's face was so familiar that Patton nearly hugged him. But his eyes were still that slightly luminescent green, still twitching and rolling like he was trying to take in every detail of the world all at once. "Really?"

Patton nodded and held out his hand palm-up. Roman's hand was icy, but Patton forced himself not to flinch as he brought his head down and kissed Remus' knuckles. "Really."

For a moment, there was silence. Then came a gentle warmth, and confused brown eyes staring down at Patton, who only had time to gasp before Roman tilted his head in confusion. "Um, Patton? Why are you holding my hand?"

[deansawthetvglow]

Emphasis

2.1k

destiel first meetings, deancentric, potential for more story. cas is like barely in this

“death is promised to the bee whose sting protects the colony”

--

he’s 24, it should be gone by now, he needs to grow out of it but god dammit, there it is. a constant looming presence. the fact of the matter is, dean winchester has a severe phobia of wasps, bees—anything that buzzes past him that he can’t identify immediately— and he can’t help it. it’s irrational, he knows it’s irrational, in fact he kind of loves bees, he knows how important they are, how his mom used to love them, and dammit he’s an adult and he needs to get over it already. (it’s kinda why he loves hunting, they’re either in the car (dean keeps his windows rolled up) or out at night sneaking into some monster’s lair)

so it’s decided, dean’s gonna suck it up and find a therapist. he goes with the third one in the phone book, she looks kind (hot), and she specializes in anxiety disorders. dean sets an appointment.

he starts attending weekly, thanking the fraudulent card he carries that he’s not spending real money on this endeavor. his therapist, Lisa, is easy on the eyes, so it helps the sessions feel more palatable. he also ignores how, every time she asks him a question, he feels so vulnerable it hurts. he’s always on the verge of tears there, but he’d never admit it. he’s thankful his dad’s out on a string of solo hunts and he can keep grounded here, at least until he can wean off the sessions.

on a tuesday, dean finds a dead wasp on the windowsill of his motel room. he nearly bolts from the room, but something is keeping him grounded. he takes deep breaths like lisa recommended, he closes his eyes for a moment and just repeats “it’s dead, it’s dead, it can’t hurt you, it’s dead.” when he opens his eyes, and the wasp is still there, he feels a bit better. he doesn’t do anything about it, just cohabitates with it until his thursday session. he tells lisa about it and she quirks her lip up in a half smile. she has a glint in her eye that almost scares him, but after all this time, he trusts her, he honestly does. at the end of their time, she stands and tells dean she’s got homework for him. he almost groans, but he keeps it to himself. she pulls out one of her desk drawers and presents dean with a small mason jar. she places it in his hands and gives him a mission: get the wasp into the jar and bring it with him for next time.

he’s nervous already, but he nods, he wants this to work, he needs this to work.

when he gets back to the motel, he opens the door, peeking at the windowsill to make sure it’s still there before he pulls himself into the room. it takes him an hour of pacing, tears brimming, breaths shallow and panicked, before he finally gets the courage to do it. he grabs a pen from the side table and walks to the window. he holds the open mason jar under the sill, lines his pen up behind the wasp and squeezes his eyes shut as he sweeps his pen across the surface. 

when he opens them, the wasp is sitting at the bottom of the jar and dean nearly drops it, but he convinces himself to get the jar top and seals it with frantic, shaky hands. when the wasp is secure, he sets the jar on the sill and collapses into bed. it felt terrible, but he did it. he fucking did it.

on his drive to the practice that week, he puts the wasp in the passenger seat so he can keep an eye on the jar. even carrying the thing is torture as he ascends the stairs to lisa’s office. when he gets to her waiting room, she’s already got her door open and he enters, trying to keep cool as he sets the wasp on the table between them.

she grins like she’s so incredibly proud and dean’s heart swells with it for a moment. she asks him to tell her about the experience, which he does, watching her taking a note here or there, or asking a clarifying question. when he finishes, they only have a little time left, but she asks him to lay down on the couch and close his eyes to relax. he feels her presence by his side. she tells him to keep his eyes closed as she explains what’s going to happen next. 

“dean, with your consent, i would love to begin exposure therapy with you. all you’ll have to do today is hold the jar above you and observe the wasp.’

dean nods, his heart beat already quickening. he opens his eyes on her say so and she places the jar gently in his hands. he grounds himself, and then brings the jar above him. the underside of the jar is much more clear than the patterned sides. he can see the wasps body, dull with decay, but a wasp nonetheless. lisa asks him to describe it to her. he does. 

when he walks out of her office that day, he feels a bit lighter. he leaves the wasp with her because it’s nearly rotted and she’ll dispose of it properly. when he walks the path back to his car, a bee buzzes by, he flinches, but that’s all. no tears, no running, just a flinch. he grins. 

saturday comes and dean decides to go to the farmers market. he hasn't been in a long time, maybe not since he was a kid, but he figures he’ll show off his improvement to himself a little bit. when he gets there, the sun is hot and bright, baking down on the colourful tents out before him. his goal is to walk the whole thing, stopping to smell the roses along the way. it goes pretty well until he goes to pick out a peach for lunch and he spots a bee on it, basking in the sweetness of the fruit. he pulls his hand back fast and keeps his eye on it, his mind going blank with fear and silencing the sounds of everyone around him. suddenly there’s a buzz behind him and he’s running. it’s irrational, he knows it’s irrational, and yet he’s doing it, running back to baby. he makes it almost all the way until his adrenaline wears off a bit. he slows to a walk, but he’s on high alert. suddenly he can see everything. he can see the paper wasps floating above the grass, he can see the bee settling into a bunch of sunflowers, he nearly throws up when he sees one trailing behind a woman's leg, so close it’s nearly touching. he covers his ears, hoping that the loss of one sense will help deescalate the situation. it helps a bit, and when he’s finally at baby’s side and quickly getting in, he takes a breath. he lets himself cry then. head against he steering wheel. he was doing so well but suddenly he feels like he’s back at step one. he failed. his tears don’t let up until his energy is drained from the day. from the heat of the sun, from the rush of adrenaline, from the emotions pouring out of him. 

until the next thursday, dean stays in during the day. he doesn’t want to fail again. 

he tells lisa as much at their next session. she looks at him with sympathetic eyes. he hates it.

lisa says he is getting better, it just doesn't feel like it because its a process. she smiles. he frowns, trying to grasp that concept. it doesn't feel right to him. the validation, the praise, it feels unwarranted. he closes up a little bit and thats when lisa says it. 

“i can prove it to you.” 

he quirks an eyebrow at her, dejected face softening into interest. 

when the day is over, they have a plan. next week they’ll be meeting at heaven’s hives (dean thinks it sounds more like hell). 

-

it’s thursday and dean is driving, white knuckles showing from his grip on his steering wheel. he’s grateful the apiary is just fifteen minutes out of town, it means the anticipation can’t build up (not that it hasn’t been for an entire fucking week). when he turns onto the dusty road with an arch above it baring the apiary’s name and a few carved bees on the poles, he lets himself take in the sounds of the road below him. it’s like white noise, temporarily drowning out his fears. 

when he reaches the end of the road, it’s at a small white house surrounded by flowers. he can see some structures out by the side of the home, but he looks resolutely ahead and stalks to the front door. just getting there has his heart racing, there are bees buzzing all around him and he feels himself wanting to crawl out of his skin as he knocks on the door. suddenly, it’s quiet. his thoughts pause as he stares at the man who opened the door in front of him. he’s tall, just a few inches shorter than dean, and broad. his hair is raven black and effortlessly tousled. he has this big gummy smile and his eyes are crinkling up at the sides. his eyes. his eyes are so blue, they look like they could belong in space, planets hanging alone, away from time. he clears his throat finally to say hello. the man, castiel, opens the door further and invites dean in. 

lisa is already sitting at the table, drizzling honey into the tea she has in front of her. the first thing dean notices is that the window behind her is open, a soft breeze causing the delicate white cloth to blow into the house. he tries not the let it affect him, but when he takes a seat, he makes sure his back is towards a wall and his eyes can watch the window. 

castiel sits next to him and brings him a cup of tea too. he doesn’t drink tea much, but it would feel rude to reject an offer from their host. 

castiel reaches across the table to pull the pot of honey from in front of lisa. dean watches her observe the motion, but he’s pulled from her when he hears a low voice beside him. 

“dean. lisa has informed me of your situation.” he smiles and keeps dean’s rapt attention. dean is holding his eyes, not looking away. cas breaks it first, and says, “look” with a nod to his hands. dean’s mind would go elsewhere if he weren’t so fucking amped up with anxiety, but he looks. castiel’s left hand is holding the tiny honey pot and his right is stirring the golden sweetness. dean’s mesmerized as castiel’s voice narrates next to him. 

“this is honey. it is the product of bee’s hard work. it’s a beautiful thing, dean. pure honey can quite literally last forever. a bee works her entire life to produce this product that will outlast her tenfold, and that’s an understatement.” castiel huffs a small laugh and dean quirks a small smile, still watching the hand stir the honey. “your fear-- dean, look at me,” dean lifts his eyes, “your fear is valid. it is one of the most common phobias across the globe. however, your fear is unfounded. i would sacrifice myself to be stung a thousand times over if it meant we could keep honey. if we could keep the trees and plants that bees  pollenate and tend to. even if we could live in a world without bees, i wouldn’t want to, because they are small, and determined, and fuzzy and they are god’s most pure creation.” his eyes sparkle as he’s talking, dean is fighting to hang onto every word instead of drifting into the fantasy that is the man before him. “bees have a stinger to protect their colony. they will die to protect their own. i have a very strong sense that you are much like a bee, dean. i have faith in your abilities to overcome this.” 

dean doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s crying. tears are falling from his eyes silently, blurring the images of cas and then lisa as he turns his face from them. 

not once in all of their sessions did he cry in front of lisa, but now he’s overcome with a tidal wave of emotions and it’s all because castiel (bees)waxed poetic and compared him to his greatest fear. god the analogy hits so close to home it hurts. he finally turns back to the table where castiel and lisa are sitting patiently, waiting. 

“i have faith too.” 

[anistarrose]

Fear The Reaper A Lot, Actually - Chapter 5

AO3

Summary: It’s time for the hunt to resume. Noelle makes a promise, Kravitz conducts an interview, Taako plans a séance, and Barry makes a friend.

Characters: Kravitz, Taako, Barry Bluejeans, Angus McDonald, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, Noelle | No-3113, The Raven Queen, The Director | Lucretia, misc. BoB cameos, Julia Burnsides

Relationships: Taakitz, Angus McDonald & Taako, Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz, Kravitz & Angus McDonald

Sorry for the late update! I was sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, and then on Thursday I decided to focus entirely on losing my mind over the new TAZ episode, so that means it’s time for a rare Friday chapter. Lots of stuff is happening in this chapter, so hopefully it was worth the wait!

(Also, I normally don’t write the chapter titles on tumblr for this fic because it makes the title section of the post look cluttered, but this one is called “me and the boys at 2 am looking for jeans.” Just really wanted to make sure you were all aware of that fact.)

***

Long past the curfew established by the Reclaimers’ training routine, at the hour of night when the moonbase’s artificial lights dimmed and the bonfires on the planet below faded away, four pairs of eyes watched Avi from the shadows. A murmur of excitement escaped from behind one of the glass spheres when he yawned and checked his watch, followed by a chorus of disappointed sighs when he slapped himself across the face and set back to work unloading a new supply shipment, but he didn’t seem to notice them over the muffled roar of high-altitude winds.

Finally, a passenger sphere floated back into the port and the Bureau’s three top Regulators disembarked, back from a planetside drill that had run long. From her perch on Killian’s shoulder, Carey leaned down to affectionately slap Avi on the back, and he quickly accepted her invitation to join their gang for drinks at the Chug ‘N Squeeze. As Avi led the way out of the port, Carey and Killian hot on his heels while Noelle followed more distantly, there was much hushed rejoicing among their shadowy, impatient observers.

“Finally,” Taako huffed. “I was starting to think he was pulling an all-nighter.”

After checking one last time to make sure the coast was clear, Angus stepped out of his hiding place and reached for the door of the transport sphere, but Magnus grabbed ahold of him by the collar of his shirt.

“Sorry, little guy, but you’re staying behind this time.”

Angus opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, at a loss for words for the first time since he’d started speaking in complete sentences at age fourteen months.

“It’s nothing personal, Agnes — we just need someone to stay behind and distract Avi if he comes back before we do,” Taako explained. “And no one can resist all your nosy questions once you get going, so you’re the perfect accomplice!”

“I can think of a few people who can resist it,” Merle scoffed. “Number one, me.”

Magnus ignored them both, kneeling down to look at Angus in the eyes. “Ango, if I’m being honest… we had some close calls last time, and that was in a cave where we honestly weren’t expecting to find anything besides a clue or two if we were lucky. Tonight, we’re going to try and get a lich’s attention, so this morning, we all sat down and talked about it and agreed we’ll feel better if you’re safe up here.”

Taako sighed. “Gee, way to let the kid know we actually care about him. Now his ego’s gonna grow until it’s bigger than mine, and then where will I be?”

“It’s okay, sir. I’m sure you and Merle will still find ways to keep me humble.” Angus managed a smile.

“Stay safe, all right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Merle laughed, as Magnus picked him up and placed him inside the sphere. “Now hurry up and set the trajectory, Taako. Barry Bluejeans isn’t gonna arrest himself —”

“Please, hang on just a second!”

Four heads whirled around to face the port’s exit hallway, where Noelle was floating.

“It’s just me, don’t worry!” she assured them, noticing Magnus and Angus’s guilty expressions and Merle and Taako’s panicked ones. “I won’t let the Director hear a peep of this, I promise — but if you’re going after Mr. Bluejeans, I’d like to come with you. If you’ve got room in that sphere, of course.”

“Well, the scale of this lich hunting team is rapidly veering past ‘secret club’ and careening into ‘elaborate conspiracy,’ but… I guess this whole bargain is about your life too, isn’t it?” Magnus thought out loud. “Taako, Merle, are you guys alright with this?”

“A ghost would know where to find another ghost better than any of us would, right?” Merle asked, and Taako shrugged.

“Then welcome to the lich-hunting conspiracy, Noelle,” Magnus declared.

On her way to the sphere, Noelle patted Angus on the head, surprisingly gentle despite her heavy robot arms. “Sorry, pal. I didn’t mean to replace you.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Angus told her. “I know you’re better in fights than I am, so… just be sure to keep them safe, okay? And if you get a chance, could you ask Barry if our theory about the Voidfish was right?”

Noelle’s face display flickered, somehow expressing a determined smile with just a few dozen lit-up pixels. “I’ll do my best, I promise.”

***

There were many reasons for a soul not to join the others in the Astral Sea, but most often, it was because they were waiting for someone. Luckily, the person Kravitz wished to speak with was one such soul, so he was able to find her in only a matter of minutes.

There was only one island in the Astral Sea with a cottage on it, after all.

Though expertly constructed, it was clearly unfinished, lacking a door, roof, or windows — so Kravitz knocked on the cedar doorframe, and waited outside for the house’s occupant to respond. Just seconds later, a tall woman with a bandana tied around her hair met him at the doorway, smiling sadly and shaking her head as she laid eyes on Kravitz.

“Oh. You’re the emissary of the Raven Queen. I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t sure if I was hoping or fearing that you were someone else.”

“I understand.” Kravitz said softly. “You’re Julia Waxmen-Burnsides, right?”

“That’s right.” Julia offered him a calloused hand. “Nice to meet — er, formally meet you, Death.”

“Death is my mother. Call me Kravitz,” Kravitz replied as he accepted the handshake, and Julia chuckled.

“Okay, Kravitz. What brings you over to my humble island?”

***

“Well, this spot should be as good as any,” Taako announced, kicking a pebble across the black glass circle that once was Phandalin. “Magnus, did you bring the sacrificial denim?”

“Sure did!” Magnus held up a pair of freshly purchased jeans. “Also some candles, and an ouija board that Carey helped me steal from Leon the other day as part my rogue lessons.”

“Tell Carey that gaslighting Leon is my job, and she needs to quit infringing on my brand.” Taako pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket, tried and failed to draw a circle on the glass, then conjured a paintbrush instead and started painting a pentagram.

Meanwhile, Noelle drifted around haphazardly, the lights on her face growing dim. “It’s… it’s so empty here. I was bracing myself for ruins, for bodies… but there’s just nothin’ left. I can’t even remember where the bar was, or the hotel, or the stables…”

Merle looked away. “Sorry we dropped the ball on this one, Noelle…”

“S’alright. You made up for it in the lab last week, with the savin’ the world and negotiating for my soul an’ all.”

“Well, don’t get too comfortable in your robot body, ‘cause we might not have much time left in the living world if Barry doesn’t show tonight.” Taako placed the jeans in the center of the pentagram, then lit them on fire. “But I think this’ll get his attention. Everyone, come join hands!”

Magnus kneeled and took Taako and Noelle’s hands, while Merle stood up on his tiptoes to do the same.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Merle whispered.

“Plenty of times.” Taako summoned a Mage Hand and adjusted his scarf to cover his nose and mouth, as the fire in the center of their circle intensified. “Noelle? Would you do the honor of reaching out for us?”

“Uh, I’ve never been to a séance quite like this one. Maybe you’d be the better one to —”

“Barry, you asshole! Too much of a coward to show your face!” Merle shouted. “Heard about how I banished Legion and got the heebie-jeebies, didja?”

The ruins of Phandalin fell eerily silent, aside from the quiet crackling of the fire.

“Sorry. Still not detecting any liches,” Noelle reported.

“Well, being a dick didn’t work,” Merle muttered. “Shoulda brought some booze and thrown a party — maybe that would get his lazy ass’s attention.”

“I’m pretty sure liches can’t drink, Merle,” Noelle told him. “And honestly, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I can’t imagine why Barry would be obligated to haunt this here town just ‘cause it’s where he died. Are y’all sure this is the best place to look for him?”

“Positive,” said Taako, but Magnus spoke over him.

“Maybe we should widen our search area. Quick, what other places would be significant to Barry?”

“How ‘bout the cave where he got his ass kicked?” Merle suggested. “You know, the place where we met G’larg or whatever his name was.”

Magnus let go of Taako and Noelle’s hands to fan the air in front of him. “Well, a hike sure sounds better than standing around inhaling denim fumes, I’ll give you that.”

Taako extinguished the blaze then cast Phantom Steed, and Garyl manifested atop the embers of the fire, rearing into a majestic pose. “Hiking’s for chumps. Garyl and I will race you there!”

***

Julia led Kravitz inside the cottage, which smelled pleasantly of cedar and lavender, and motioned for him to sit down in one of two rocking chairs. She sat in the other, crossing her legs and absentmindedly rocking back and forth.

“So, Maggie went and got on the Raven Queen’s bad side, did he?”

“Not permanently, I’m hoping,” Kravitz replied. “I don’t know him as well as you, but he and his fellow death criminal associates don’t strike me as anything like the usual bounties I hunt. I was hoping you could testify on his moral character, and maybe also shed some light on how he cheated death, because he sure doesn’t seem to know.”

“Well, he’s survived some close battles — but I assume you’re looking for necromancy, not near-death experiences.” Julia drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “And I know Magnus is no necromancer.”

“I figured as much. Did he know any necromancers, though?”

Julia shook her head. “No. He’ll stand up to any authority figure if he believes they’re abusing their power, but that’s not because he just walks around looking for rules to break — it’s ‘cause he can’t stand injustice. He’s a good man, and I can’t imagine him throwing his lot in with a lich or someone like that to flaunt the laws of life and death…”

Her voice trailed off. “Do you know how long ago these so-called crimes happened?” she asked.

“They all registered in our system at once, about twelve years ago. Needless to say, I’m assuming he didn’t die 19 distinct times within minutes of each other, so there must’ve been some warding that was previously hiding him from our detection. We’ve seen that kind of thing before, although never quite to the same extent.”

“Twelve years ago was before I knew him,” Julia admitted. “I’m not sure I even know where he was living or what he was doing twelve years ago.”

“Forgive me changing the topic, but are his parents still alive? Or any siblings, aunts, uncles?”

“He was an only child, and his parents passed away before I knew him — I think he was an adult at the time, but barely, so… that would’ve been thirteen, fourteen years ago, maybe? He never told me how they died and I never pressed him, so — wait a second, you’re the Grim Reaper. Shouldn’t you know exactly who’s dead and who isn’t?”

“I really should,” Kravitz agreed, “and that’s the problem, actually. I can’t find any relatives of Magnus in the registry of deceased souls — no parents, no grandparents, no cousins…”

“You only found people who were Magnus’s family by marriage,” Julia realized out loud. “That’s why you came to talk to me.”

Kravitz nodded. “Exactly — but it gets even weirder. Magnus’s fellow adventuring buddies and apparent death criminals are an elf named Taako and a dwarf named Merle, whom I don’t suppose you know —”

Julia gasped, not in recognition, but in dawning realization. “Don’t tell me you can’t find their families, either.”

“All I found for Merle were some fourth cousins, and equally distant relatives. I couldn’t find anything about Taako.”

“The plot sure has thickened, huh?” Julia muttered. “You’re right that I don’t know Merle or Taako, they must’ve been… you know, after my time. But I can swear to you, if this is some kind of — some kind of necromantic conspiracy, then Magnus is the victim, not the one behind it. He could not and would not plan something like this for years while keeping it a secret all this time. He wouldn’t have hid it from me or from Steven —”

“I believe you,” Kravitz told her, “and I believe Magnus, when he says he genuinely doesn’t know how he died nineteen times. But because I believe you, and because I think you’re right on the mark with regards to a necromantic conspiracy, I have one last question: have you ever heard the names Lup or Barry Bluejeans?”

Julia snorted quietly at the latter name, but shook her head. “No. Are they… necromantic conspiracy suspects?”

“You could say that. More specifically, they’re liches whom we first detected around the same time as Magnus. At the time, I assumed it was a coincidence, but now… well, there a few different first impressions of Magnus and his adventuring buddies that I’m reevaluating.”

“Tell me about it. That man contains multitudes.” Julia leaned back in her rocking chair. “If there’s anything else I can do to help exonerate Maggie — any questions or testimony you need — I’m sure you’ll be able to find me here for a long, long time, but… can I ask something of you, if it’s alright?”

“Depends. What is it?”

“Can you help me send a letter?”

***

For the first few hundred feet of the race, Noelle kept up with Taako via her rocket boosters, but then opted to save her fuel, and Garyl surged ahead towards the mountains.

“Eat my dust!” Garyl whinnied. “I’m gonna find those oatssss!”

“Liches, Garyl. We’re looking for liches,” Taako reminded him.

“Yeah, but liches always have some loose spectral oats in their robe pockets!” Garyl scaled the foothills with ease, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. “Sometimes they even give me spectral sugar cubes! Why dontcha ever hang out with liches anymore?”

Taako yanked on the reins. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t given me sugar cubes in decades,” Garyl moaned as they came to a halt. “Or even spectral carrots.”

Taako dismounted, turning away from the face of the mountain to look at Garyl in his iridescent rainbow eyes. “You gonna elaborate ‘bout me allegedly hanging out with liches, pal?”

“What is there to elaborate about? You used to hang with liches, and then you just —” Suddenly, Garyl’s eyes went wide. “Look out! Above you!”

Taako dismissed Garyl with a wave of his hand, and the binicorn disappeared in a flash of rainbow smoke. “Yeah, no, I’m not buying that. You’re just pulling my leg again —”

He turned around slowly and casually, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary — only to find himself facing a crumbling mountainside, dozens of massive boulders already rolling on a trajectory straight towards him.

He instinctively raised his Umbra Staff, only to freeze up, no idea what spell he could cast in time to save himself — but then something in his peripheral vision flashed red, and not a full second later, he was standing atop a distant hill, a hundred meters away from the site of the rockslide.

“Are you okay?” a voice behind him rasped. “I didn’t mean to startle you — I know you probably had it under control, but I — I just panicked. Sorry.”

Taako turned around to face a familiar red-robed specter, two vaguely eye-shaped lights under his hood looking Taako over.

“You know, I was actually pretty un-startled until you popped up behind me and started rasping in my ear! Let an elf have his personal space, Barold!”

“What?” The lights beneath Barry’s hood froze in place, as did every thread of his robe, paralyzed in spite of the gentle breeze. The rasp in his voice dissipated as he went on: “Taako, how much do you remember?!”

Taako blinked. “Remember?”

“Talk to me, Taako! Please!” Barry grabbed Taako by the shoulders, incorporeal hands trembling. “Do you remember your sister? Do you remember Lup?”

“Ugh, that sound! Why do you have to do that right in my face?” Taako shrugged off Barry’s barely-tangible grip, clapping his hands over his ears.

“You heard static?” Barry gasped. “Oh, no. No. I thought —”

“You bet I just heard the worst five seconds of ASMR ever! What do you want from me, man? All I know about Lup is that she’s a lich like you, ‘cause that’s all Kravitz could tell me —”

“Kravitz told you about us?!”

“Yeah, he did! Told me you two were his most elusive bounties, and that I could never let my guard down around you!” Taako reached into the quiver slung over his shoulder, pulling out a sapphire arrow. “And I think it’s about time I gave him a heads up that you’re hanging out right here, soul ready for reaping —”

“Do NOT summon Kravitz!” Just seconds before Taako plunged the arrow into the ground, Barry tore it out of his hand and hurled it through a rift. “Why the fuck would you summon Kravitz?!”

Taako’s grip tightened on his Umbra Staff, and Barry recoiled. The lights under his hood looked like they were melting, shedding glowing droplets that cascaded down some semblance of a face within the void.

“Taako, please,” Barry pleaded. “I’m not your enemy, and — and Lup isn’t either, I swear! She wouldn’t want this!”

Taako raised the Umbra Staff to cast, but no spell fired from the umbrella as it shuddered in his hand.

“You can’t listen to what Kravitz tells you — he doesn’t know why we became liches! He doesn’t know about the Hunger!” Barry’s robe was fraying before Taako’s eyes, crimson threads unraveling at the edges of his sleeves. “What if — what if he thinks you’ve cheated death? What if he sends you to the Eternal Stockade?! Taako, I’m begging you, I — I — I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too!”

Taako cast again, and the Umbra Staff still refused to fire, the beginnings of a spell entering his arcane focus on one end but never leaving it on the other. As Barry drifted closer, sparks jumping between stray red threads and face a mess of swirling light and shadow, Taako turned to his last resort — stalling for time.

“You know, Kravitz was thinking real hard about sending me to ghost jail the other day, but I convinced him not to. Don’t you want to hear my side of the story?”

Barry froze, the unraveling of his robe momentarily halted. “In the Miller lab? What happened?!”

“We made a deal. He was going to arrest me, Magnus, Merle, Lucas, and Noelle — but I got an idea he liked better. I asked if he’d let us go free if we captured another bounty or two for him — so he gave us two months to capture you and Lup.” Taako shrugged, so focused on trying not to panic that he hardly noticed the sound of electricity crackling and fabric tearing. “So if you just turn yourself in, then at least you’ll only have to worry about me half as much.”

Barry convulsed as a jagged gash tore through his robe from shoulder to waist, an intangible darkness spilling out from within him and pooling on the ground below.

“LUP!” he shouted, voice echoing between mountains and through underground lairs for miles and miles. “They — they signed their own death warrant, Lup! I — I can’t do this without them, I can’t do this without you — where ARE YOU?!”

“Taako! There you are!”

Magnus sprinted onto the scene, Merle and Noelle hot on his heels. He thrust himself between Barry and Taako, then pulled a sapphire arrow from his own belt, jabbing it into the shadow-covered ground at Barry’s feet. “Kravitz, we’ve got a bounty for you!”

The lights beneath Barry’s hood coalesced back into two flickering eyes that immediately fixated on the arrow, which was already engulfed in a crackling blue aura.

“Boys, I promise I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, and then vanished into thin air.

“Wait, come back!” Merle called out, rushing towards the spot where Barry had been floating. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you —”

Taako yelped as his Umbra Staff inverted, and the arrow flew through the air towards its maw — but milliseconds before the umbrella snapped shut around it, Kravitz manifested in a puff of smoke, already dual-wielding sapphire scythes.

“Did you find Barry? Where is he?”

“He got away, I think,” Magnus sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have summoned you where he could see, but I rushed in because I was so worried about him hurting Taako —”

Noelle floated around Taako in tight circles, scanning him from all angles. “It doesn’t look he hurt you, but… I’m getting some traces of conjuration magic? Did you have a wizard’s duel or something?”

“Oh, god no. I probably wouldn’t be alive if we had,” Taako admitted. His heart was still pounding, but he tried not to let it show. “Conjuration magic, though… let’s see. That would probably be from when he — when he teleported me away from the mountain, after those rocks started falling.”

“Those rocks?” Noelle gestured towards the massive pile of rubble at the foot of the nearest mountain. “Those look like they could’ve killed you!”

“I know, right?” Taako replied. “Very uncharacteristically benevolent of him to show up when he did.”

“As great as it is that you’re not dead, Taako, it was also very convenient of him to show up when he did,” Kravitz paced across the hilltop, scythes crossed in front of him like the world’s most dangerous dowsing rods. “I can’t sense his presence anymore, meaning he’s squirreled himself away in some sort of warded hideout… but if he appeared out in the open here only shortly after you did, then that hideout of his must be nearby.”

He turned away from Taako, facing the mountains. “Which means he’s still nearby.”

Taako felt his hand grow warm, and looked down to see his Umbra Staff, energized from the absorption of the arrow… and pointing directly at Kravitz’s back.

“Let’s search the area.” Kravitz continued. “Leave no stone unturned —”

Taako pointed the Umbra Staff towards the sky — not a moment too soon. A beam of white-hot plasma pierced the clouds above and bathed the entire mountain range in daylight for a fleeting moment, before it fizzled out with a crackle of electricity and a whiff of ozone.

Kravitz whirled around. “Taako?!”

“I didn’t cast that spell! I don’t know how to cast that kind of spell!” Taako gasped. “My umbrella’s been acting up all night, but I didn’t know it could act up like this!”

Kravitz sighed and placed a hand on Taako’s shoulder.

“You know, on second thought,” he said, “maybe we should postpone the lich hunting until you get that thing checked out.”

***

Merle made a beeline for his bed the second the gang returned to the moonbase, while Taako took it upon himself to relay the night’s events to Angus as a bedtime story, and hopefully ensure that the kid actually got some sleep. Noelle had opted to stay planetside for a little longer and fly back up to the moon on her own later, explaining that she needed some time alone to process what had happened in Phandalin, and that left Magnus and Kravitz alone in the common room between the Reclaimers’ individual dorms.

“There’s no way Angus will relax enough to fall asleep in the next week if he hears about what happened tonight,” Magnus sighed, collapsing onto the couch. “Either Taako lies and says nothing happened, or he uses a sleep spell on a ten year old. You wanna make a bet on which?”

“I’ll pass. But you just reminded me, I actually have something for you.” Kravitz rifled through the interior pockets of his vest, pulling out a piece of shimmering blue paper. Although folded over on itself several times, it still felt almost intangibly thin, like parchment woven from cobwebs or even air itself.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That better not be magical junk mail.”

Kravitz smiled, slowly shaking his head. “I spoke with someone in the Astral Plane today who had a lot of good things to say about you,” he explained. “She’s waiting to see you again, but hopes that day won’t come too soon, and… well, I haven’t read her letter, but I’m sure it speaks for itself.”

Magnus accepted the paper gingerly, eyes tearing up as he unfolded it to reveal Julia’s handwriting.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Kravitz plucked a raven feather from his robe, transmuting it into a quill pen with a snap of his fingers before handing it to Magnus. “I don’t allow this kind of thing every day, so don’t go around telling too many people about it — but you can use this pen to write a response on the back. Fold it up again once you’re done, and it’ll make its way back to her.”

Magnus leapt up from the couch to crush Kravitz in a hug that would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs, had he still been alive and breathing.

“Thank you,” Magnus repeated. “Thank you —”

Taako barged into the room, Umbra Staff slung over his shoulder. “You wanna guess what ‘cha boi had to do to get the kid to go to sleep? I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t — okay, what am I interrupting here?”

A joke no doubt on the tip of his tongue, he froze as he noticed the tears running down Magnus’s face. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Magnus let go of Kravitz, wiping his eyes and picking up the pen and letter again. “I — I’ll be in my room. I need some time to… I just need some time.”

Taako nodded. “Don’t forget to get some sleep yourself. Apparently you humans need, like, eight hours of it, go figure.”

“He’ll be alright,” Kravitz whispered to Taako, as Magnus closed the door to his room. “He just got a letter from someone he hadn’t heard from in a while.”

“‘Course he’ll be alright. He’s Magnus, he’s indestructible,” Taako replied, but Kravitz could hear the relief in his voice. “And in case you were wondering, the way to get Angus to fall asleep is to read him a detective story, but only as a distraction while you’re preparing a Sleep spell.”

Kravitz chuckled. “You know, speaking of distracting — what’s with that flashing Chug ‘N Squeeze sign on the moon campus? I don’t think it was there when I visited you the other day.”

“Oh, that? I think it’s some kinda wine and pottery place — why, you wanna check it out? ‘Cause it’s supposed to open in a day or two, or so says all the hottest moon gossip.”

“Well, I mostly just asked out of morbid curiosity, but it does sound like something I could enjoy ironically — and maybe even unironically, as a break from all this lich hunting and detective work. Do you want to check it out with me?”

“Oh, a wine and clay vacation day with the Grim Reaper? That’s a hell yeah from Taako!”

***

The second Barry returned to his cave, he bolted straight for an unassuming chest beneath a pile of discarded scrolls and tattered jeans. Though it only occupied about two cubic feet, it was warded against everything from fire to water to acid, and sealed with an arcane lock — which Barry dismissed by uttering the passcode, emergency bonds.

From inside, he retrieved a handful of trinkets — a driftwood necklace from Merle, a wand that Magnus had once unsuccessfully tried to summon a dog familiar with, and most important of all, a dozen different wedding rings, all hewn from different materials and given in different ceremonies on entirely different worlds. Barry picked up the envelope beneath them and then gingerly placed them back in the chest, opening the envelope to look through the pictures it contained.

The shadowy essence of his lich form had stopped leaking out of his robe the second he’d opened the chest and been comforted with the wave of nostalgia, but he felt his soul stabilize even further as he pulled out the first picture. It was a candid shot of him, Lup, and Taako in the Starblaster’s lab, buried up to their elbows in notes as they studied the Light of Creation, which the camera had only been able to capture as a vague white blur. The three of them all had bags under their eyes, but they were still smiling. They’d been so determined to develop a new theory, to find the answers that would save them and their family.

And there was no reason for Barry to abandon that determination or give up on that goal now.

For the next four hours, he scrawled calculations on almost every blank scrap of paper he had at his disposal, comparing research he’s done half a century ago with papers he’d read on cycles even further back. He unfurled no less than five individual maps of Faerun, circling promising locations before changing his mind and scratching out all but a few that he’d personally visited in the past.

By the time his plan was complete, almost all of the rips in his robe had mended themselves — though he still looked unsettlingly threadbare, and he trembled slightly even while floating in one place.

How long did Taako say they have? Two months, as of the crystal incident? There’s no need to panic — I’ve got time. I just need to play this smart.

He extended his senses outside of his lair, scanning the surrounding area for Kravitz or another emissary of the Raven Queen — and there was indeed an undead presence lurking near Phandalin, but unlike Kravitz, it lacked even the faintest trace of celestial energy. Even stranger, its aura seemed shielded, but less so than a lich possessing a living body would’ve been… as if the soul was inhabiting an inorganic body, instead.

The robot no doubt sensed him approaching, but gave no sign of signalling for help, which made Barry feel much better about his decision to venture out of the safety of his cave.

“Mister Bluejeans? That you?” she asked, and the sound of her voice was all it took for Barry to connect a series of dots that couldn’t have been further from his mind just a few moments ago.

“I know you. You were in the Cosmoscope — and before that, you were in Phandalin. You were a halfling.”

“That’s right. I’m Noelle — Noelle Redcheeck. I’m surprised you remembered me.”

“I’m surprised you’re not furious with me,” Barry whispered. “I couldn’t save you, or anyone else in Phandalin — I’m so sorry, Noelle. Maybe, maybe, if I’d been in my lich form, I could’ve —”

“You tried your best,” Noelle assured him, “just like the Reclaimers. Really, the only person I should blame is whoever made that terrifying gauntlet in the first place —”

“No,” Barry interrupted. “I knew her, and I knew how implausible this will sound, but she didn’t want this. She tried her best to stop it, too.”

Noelle took a moment to reply. “It sounds like you know a lot of things that the Bureau doesn’t.”

Barry nodded. “Speaking of which… I really shouldn’t stay out here in one place for much longer, or someone will sense me, be it the Bureau or Kravitz. Do you mind if we take this conversation somewhere else?”

“Just lead the way.”

They headed not to Barry’s main hideout, but to a slightly nearer cave that he used mainly for storage but had placed equally powerful wards over. Abjuration had never been his specialty, but his ability to pick it up on the fly had been invaluable during his time as a rogue lich — and now, he thought, my abjuring might be the one thing that saves my family’s lives. Funny how that works out.

“So, Noelle,” he asked out loud, “I saw you with Magnus and Merle earlier. Do they know you’re still down here?”

“I told them I wanted to stick around Phandalin for a while and think about what happened,” Noelle explained. “Which, come to think of it, wasn’t a total lie — because I did want to talk to you about Phandalin, and I guess I got that chance after all. But I’m also here because I promised my detective friend that I’d ask you something.”

“Assuming your friend’s alive, then they probably won’t even be able to comprehend the whole answer — but fire away, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Did the Voidfish erase the fact that you were a lich?”

“Getting right to the root of the problem, huh?” Barry paused. “Hmm. Let me put it this way — the Voidfish erased all memories that could make me believe I was a lich. Whenever I’m alive, whenever I’m amnesiac, the idea that I could be a lich or even a necromancer just sounds like a joke. I’ve tried leaving messages to remind myself of that fact, after coming back to life — but my living self never believed it.”

“It sounded like a joke to Magnus and the others, too.”

Barry sighed. “That’s ‘cause they’ve lost a lot of memories of their own.”

“But… they’re innoculated. How is that possible?”

“Noelle, we’re well past the point where I need to warn you about keeping this conversation a secret from the Bureau, right? And… probably from your detective friend, too, assuming they work for the Director?”

“Yeah,” Noelle sighed. “Angus will be disappointed, but I understand.”

“There’s a second Voidfish,” Barry explained. “It’s very well guarded, and only the Director’s been innoculated by it — so she’s used it to erase all kinds of information, from the Reclaimers’ pasts to… a coming storm, which this world is unlikely to survive.”

“This storm… will it be worse than the Grand Relics? Worse than what happened to Phandalin?”

“It’ll be not just worse, but maybe even infinitely worse. Because it’ll go on to destroy worlds beyond this one, if we let it.”

Barry had forgotten what it felt like to speak so freely about his past and the Hunger, to speak without worrying that his words would be distorted by static, and more and more information just poured out, far more than he’d initially intended to share.

“There is an entity called the Hunger that seeks to consume all of existence, and it’s only a matter of months until it begins its assault on this planar system. The Director and the Reclaimers and I, we were all like family, and we worked together in search of a way to destroy this Hunger, but… we had some disagreements. And really, neither side was right, but Lucretia — Lucretia used the Voidfish to erase our whole mission, the Hunger included. I became a lich to protect my family from the Hunger, so… when I’m alive, I don’t have any memory of being undead. And my family doesn’t have any memories of me… aside from that time in Phandalin when I got Merle to stab himself with a fork, I guess, which probably didn’t leave a great impression.” He managed a bitter laugh.

“How long ago did they forget?”

“Almost ten years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It dawned on Barry that he was having most sincere, two-sided conversation he’d experienced in a decade — and ironically, the realization left him at a loss for words.

The same couldn’t be said of Noelle, who continued on without hesitation. “I promised my friend Angus not just that I’d get answers, but also that I’d look out for the Reclaimers. I don’t want the Grim Reaper, or the apocalypse, or whatever’s coming to hurt them — or anyone else in this world, like Angus, or Carey and Killian, or my family in Hogsbottom — so please, Mister Bluejeans, tell me what I can do to help. I want to do something with this extra time the Reclaimers gave me.”

“If you get caught helping me,” Barry warned her, “you’ll be imprisoned one way or another — either on the moonbase, or in the Eternal Stockade, depending on who catches you.”

“Well first of all, it sounds like at the rate I’m going, I’m gonna end up either back in the Astral Plane, or consumed by this Hunger entity in a matter of months if I don’t do anything to help you,” Noelle replied. “And second of all, I’m not plannin’ to just give up and let them arrest me if I do get caught.” She cocked her arm cannon.

Maybe it was risky to accept help from someone he barely knew, but Noelle had seemed nothing but sincere — and Barry had spent so long working alone that frankly, he was amazed it hadn’t killed him yet. He was a creature of bonds and of love; he sought out companionship by both nature and necessity. He didn’t know if he could do this alone, but alongside another undead soul who could actually understand and help, he knew for a fact that he could.

“Welcome aboard, Noelle.” Barry chuckled. “First things first: I’ve tried to stay out of the Raven Queen and her servants’ ways, because they’re really not evil at all, but if there’s any chance of stopping the Hunger, then we’ll need Taako and the others’ help for sure. Which means we’re going to have to do something about the Grim Reaper situation —”

“You know, I might have something to help with that.” A drawer Noelle’s main body slid open, revealing a sapphire-tipped arrow. “Magnus figured we should all have some summoning beacons on our person, in case of emergency.” She winked. “But I was thinkin’ we could use it to lure him into some kinda sinister trap.”

She paused. “He can’t eavesdrop on us through this thing, can he?”

“Not if we don’t say his name. But I’d close that drawer for now, just to be on the safe side.” Barry said as he summoned a scroll and pen, then started jotting down notes. “This is all perfect, though! I already hashed out the spell theory for a plan, but you just made it about a billion times easier to pull off — not just because of the arrow, but because you can gather components, and I won’t have to risk him sensing my location and realizing what I’m up to!”

“Makes sense,” Noelle replied, looking over Barry’s list. “That’s all you need me to get?”

“Yeah. I was thinking most of it would be salvageable from the Miller Lab — uh, except maybe the iron filings, which are commercially available anyway.”

Noelle beamed. “I won’t let you down, Mister Bluejeans.”

“Thank you, Noelle.” Barry looked down at his robe, which looked less tattered and more vibrantly red than he’d seen it in years. “For everything.”

***

End notes:

Apologies in advance if the update schedule gets a bit less consistent from here on out, since I’ve burned through my pre-written buffer chapters, but I’ve at least got a solid chunk of Chapter 6 written and a detailed outline for the chapters after that! It’s just about getting into the write headspace to write.

as usual, comments/reblogs mean a lot!

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 10

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online. Day 271: Work was dominated by Qfiniti again, including a meeting with Jon and staff from the States, where I found my self taking control to get the next steps in process (and then, Dave Stewart, the SCCM engineer fucked off and put an OOO message on Teams telling me he’s off until Tuesday (it’s Thursday)...and I am off on Monday!) But, I have to say this project does float my boat. Got a text message and then a call from PCH for another laser eye appt this coming Monday at 12.30pm. I mentioned to the lady that phoned that I will have to square it with work (I won’t, but she doesn’t know that) as I can’t afford to lose my job - it just seems the hospital, while under pressue with the admin and the clinic availability - I get it! - just aren’t seeing the issues for the patients. Plus, Peterborough has been declared a Tier 3 from Sunday under the new lockdown scheme, the highest tier. Great...I really want to travel to a highly infected area! managed to find an online booze shop that does Gordon’s and Famous Grouse and will deliver beforee Chrimbo, so I’ve placed the order for dad and Rita’s gift. I spoke with Dad today, he hasn’t heard about his vaccination yet which is a surprise (he’s in the first draft being over 80)

Day 272: Typing on day 273. Work was that manic shit at the end of the dya when I’ve got time off. I am only off on Moday but still had to tie up loose ends, complictaed further by Jon being off next week and Sueanne off this week and the Qfiniti project! In the evening I only mamaged three beers. I ate too much. Plus my sugars were all over the place and way too high! I ordered a torch a couple of days ago (£17), it arrived today. It takes rechargeable batteries or 3 AAAs. Apparently, to get the best performance (i.e. brightness) you need the rechargeable batteries in it, so i charged ‘em. Fucking hell, I’m glad I did - it’s brighter than the sun. It opens up my late walks in winter, for sure.

Day 273: While it was a very late (but sober) night yesterday (gone 4am before lights out) I was up before midday. Usual walking etc. plus gave the bathroom a clean (albeit with wipes, but I did mop the floor - and used the water to also mop the kitchen). Now I am about to stick a pizza in the oven, plus wedges (to have with microwaveable chip shop curry sauce) and watch This Is 40 which is coincidentally on telly tonight - the coincidence being clips of it are on TikTok a lot right now. I am on my second beer and am going to have a smoke right now as well. Lastly for this entry, I have been using my AudioPro speaker today, it pisses me off it’s not WiFi capable but, thru Bt, it does sound fucking good - revisiting James works very well to demonstrate the speaker’s prowess.

Day 274: I have another Paypal a/c. I have been getting emails to my standard gmail account from Paypal saying they are going to charge me £9 for an inactive account which I have been largely ignoring since my paypal a/c has a specific email address. Anyway, I tried to log in, after a password reset and, hey presto, I do have another one, with £35 in it, having just been fleeced of £9 for the aforementioned inactivity, fuckers. It’s registered with the old Market Place address and phone. When I try to transfer the £35 to my card, it wants to confim it’s me by calling the phone, which I can’t amend. Oh, and you can’t contact Paypal direct. Fuck knows what to do! Other than that, usual Sunday, a tad more relaxed since I have tomorrow off, but not that much now I have an eye appointment in Tier 4 Peterborough (it’s been up’d from tier 3)! Up at 1.30 pm (I watched This is 40 and The Guvners last night with lots of beer), feeling worse for wear but, stair climb and a 6 miler acheived!

Day 275: I was at the hospital for 3 hours. The laser clinic didn’t start until 1.30pm so, why my appointment was at 12.20, not even the consultant could understand. 15 minutes of lasering - horrible but I am used to it. It took so long it pretty much fucked my day off up completely. I got a Christmas card from Karen, in the actual post, so, a mail shot. It’s depressing.

Day 276: Back to work and it’s definitely in wind down mode. I’ve decided to compile a list of things I have done this year. It will be on the postive side, such as all the steps I’ve walked and getting an article published about my photography, but it will also include randon facts like getting bitten by a dig twice and not having a haircut. I’ll get it done so I can post in at new year, hopefully be a little inspiring, a little silly and a lot of showing off!

Day 277: Work, again, was quiet. It’s fucking pissing down now, as I type at 21:50, and has been all day. It’s causing havoc and there’s flooding everywhere. I could walk down St. Peter’s Road tonight ‘cos of it (had to go up New Road, Springfield Road, down Latham Road). Soaked a lunhtime and tonight! With a new variant of Coronavirus, France stopped frieght crossing the border. That’s now been resolved but tyeh back log has/is affecting certain food stocks in the shops, of which, fresh veg might affect me for Christams dinner (I plan to do a chicken breast with stuffing, pigs in blankets, yorkshire pud and shed loads of veg. I’ll nip to Co-Op tomorrow morning and see what’s vaialble. It’s a half day at work ‘cos of Christmas Eve, so I can nip out somewhere in the car if need be, as ong as the flooding has subsided. Or I could just get shitfaced and have burgers and pizza.

Day 278: Christmas Eve. Sueanne let me finish at 11.00am so, very shortly thereafter, off for a walk I went; it turned out to be a stop/start affair - flooding as the Nene had burst its banks, ended up doing more of a circuit round town. Bumped into Andy Smith (and his son) and, after that, Ash and Denise. Ended up doing just under 11.5km in 2 and a half hours.Knackered! As I type, I have a chilli on the stove, beer on the go, all the veg and chicken breast bought with no shortages, as feared, for tomorrow’s lunch and looking forward to eating. getting drunk, smoking, listening to music, watching telly....all over the next two/three days.

Day 279: I don’t even remember going to bed last night. As a direct result I got out of bed at 2.30pm. I couldn’t even be bothered with Christmas dinner, let alone anything else like exercise. I’m just about to have chilli for dinner (it’s 8.10pm). Watch some telly then try an go to sleep before midnight. No booze! I did talk to dad earlier. Day 280: Typing on day 281. A better, more productive day. Up @11.00am exercise and walk as usual, although the walk was a different route due to flooding. In the evening I could hear ‘storm Bella’ raging, so windy! I cooked a christmas dinner of sorts, chicken breast with Thyme, all the veg, roasted spuds and parsnip, stuffing (a first for me, albeit co-op stuffing mix), Yorkshie and pigs in blankets. It was smashing! A few beers and The Hitman’s Bodyguard, alays a fun watch. A better day, as I say, but I am feeling particular deflated this Christmas. Day 281: Typing on day 282. I realised, about mid afternoon, that Monday (tomorrow) is a bank holiday so no work. It was a great realisation but, also, worrying that it dawned on my like I’m an old person! Nevertheless, a nice long walk - bumped into Baz & Kate and had a nice long chat, then El & Camila, Aaron and Eva for another, shorter chat. I also saw Denise & Ash along the way. Fog video called later in the evening for a chat too (he told me how he fell asleep at the dinner table, fuck he makes me laugh - unwittingly - when I need it most!) A regular social fest! A repeat of last night’s dinner and a few beers - it was a good day albeit I am in a proper low ebb.

Day 282: Up at midday after a 4am-er. A very long walk (1.75 hours) and a hodge podge dinner (remaining chilli, roasted spuds and peppers, steamed cauliflower and runner beans, grated cheese) - it’s nearly ready, I’ll type the review tomorrow. I realise that this is the first time in 21 Christmases that I have at least talked to K. Is that connected to my mood slump? I reckon so. So, as that fact dawned on me, I then considered, should it be the case next Christmas, it will not be the first in along time and, as such, more manageable....fuck knows how I manage to accentuate any little positive but, thank goodness I do. Day 283: Work was a sedate affair today, fuck all to do really. Sueanne is now follwing me on Insta...I shall invetsigate on how to exclude posts to individuals, methinks. Tea, last night, was fucking lovely. More of the same tonight-ish - currently I am roasting spuds, peppers, garlic, chillies, tomatoes - it’ll all go with left over pigs-in-blankets (5) and a burger. I’ll have bisto beef with mustard on it. I can’t wait! Day 284: Typing on day 285. That meal was fucking lush! Checked on the car todfay and it would not start. Something is draining the battery so I will have to give it a run every day until I can get Julian to sort it. So, I WhatsApp’d Karen to borrow the portable starter. She dropped it off for me. We had the briefest of chats at the doorstep, first time we’ve spoken in weeks. She mentioned my hair! Day 285: NYE. I have just got back from walking to Cottersock and back. I would not have been able to do so without my new torch! I finished and published my double letter quiz on FB, including to the Virtual Pub group and the Oundle Chatter. It’s had some good feedback, I’m rather proud of it. I am going to make chicken casserole now (with dumplings - a first for me, I even bought some flour), have some beers and get a bit stoned. Before that, I am going to finish off my list of things I’ve done this year, including steps wlaked and hours listening on Spotify. I am quite proud of that list too.

Day 286: I fucked the dumplings up, added too much water, so that didn’t happen but the chicken casserole was good, just about to finish it for tea tonight. I also had pizza last night and went to bed at 5am. I have had a lot of good feedback on my list of 2020 achievements. I proud of it. K sent a happy new WhatsApp last night, around 00.30.

Day 287: No booze last night, so I was up before the alarm today (about 10.00am) Two walks, one on my own, another with Fog with a couple of beers. I fucking loved it! Watching datrts (World champs semi finals - been texting Dan while the first one has been on). Going to watch The Aviator later...I’ve not seen it before which surprises me. Why it surprises me I do not know, since I know I haven’t seen it. How the fuck can I be surprised by a fact I’m completely aware of? Day 288: I didn’t watch The Aviator ‘cos Logan Luck was on at 11:55pm on ITV4. Great fildm...I can’t believe that I very nearly paid for it (rent from Sky or Amazon). A late one last night and quite pissed. Thinking about it, having afew beers with Fog in the afternoon made it quite a long sesh for me! Up at just gone midday today, nice long walk (Cotterstock) which was mde long by a painful right ankle - I must have turned or twiested slightly sometime. Still, it survived. Back to work tomorrow - Chrimbo and New Year all done and dusted for the 55th time in my life!

Day 289: First day back at work of 2021. Boris announces another full lockdown in England (there’s a new strain of Covid19 which is seeing huge numbers of infections every day, over 50,000 per day).

Day 290: Something is up with my right foot, the little toe pad. It’s bloody sore. If it gets any worse it’ll affect my walking and exercise. I phoned Anne Bennison to talk about it, she just wants me to go and see her which i donlt want to do if poss, pandemic and all that.

Day 291: Wearing my sandals instead of the M&S slippers and my foot/toepad is already feeling bteer. However, I did inspect my Merrell boots, just in case, and the sole on te right is really worn down, in just three months. I have sent a WhatsApp to CotswoldOutdoors, where I got them from....let’s see what they say! It’s all kicking off i  the US - pro Trump protestors have storm the Capitol Building, where congrees was being held. Only in ‘Merica.

Day 292: Busy at work with rolling out Qfiniti - all that project work was pretty much for fuck all since the SCCM package has to hand held. It’s feckin’ freezing today, below freezing, slippy af on my walks. I have been shopping tonight, £106 in Corby Tesco. That does include 8 cans of sapporo.

Day 293: The fracas at Capitol Hill on Wednesday left 5 dead, it looks like Trump will be impeached. He’s already said he’ll not attend Biden’s inauguration. In a fucking world gone mad, it’s another level of madness. It’s really cold -3℃ tonight, more of the same tomorrow. Makes for brisk walks. I’ve just had chicken balti pie and chips for tea. It was so nice that I burnt the roof of my fucking gob. I’m on the Sapporo and about to have a smoke then watch Jack Reacher. I’ve (kinda) earnt after the first 5 day week for a while.

Day 294: Well, last night saw another late one...5am by the time I :went to sleep. Up at 2pm today with no instention of any exercise or walking or housework or fuck all, really. But, I did my exercises and a 9 mile walk. While I walked I came across Banners, quick 15 min chat and listed to Stage by David Bowie. He’s all over the radio right now as it’s his death’s anniversary tomorrow and his birthday yesterday. It’s a fucking good live album. A few beers tonight, eating trash, watching FA Cup highlights then End of Watch later.  Posh played today (first time in a while due to Covid infections) drew away to (shitty) Lincoln 1-1. Good point as Posh were down to ten men after 67 mins for a second yellow for handball in the area. Lincoln missed the pen. Fucking funny. Chorley, the non leaguers who knocked Posh out in round 2 of the FA Cup, beat Derby in round 3 today (albeit derby fielded an academy side of 11 first timers due to Covid ) - a great day for them!

Day 295: Up at 2pm swearing blind I’d not walk or exercise (again!) but, of course I did. I’ve done over 25 miles this w/e! End of Watch was brilliant last night. Well worth a rewatch, so emotional. I am making butter chicken as I type. I’ve added extra onion, garlic and, of course, chillies. It’s the spiciest butter chicken I have ever tasted! 

Day 296: One of those frustrating days at work when no problem of request I try to resolve goes without a hitch. After a 7km walk in the evening, took the car for a spin and cleaned the bathroom. Fucking knackered. It’s 11:30pm and I’m in bed typing this on the iPad! despite getting up so late, I feel knackered. 11pm bedtime for me, I reckon.

Day 297: Fucking busy at work, the States rolled out a new Okta trust policy and it caused mayhem. Meant my evening walk didn’t start ‘til gone 6pm. When I got back, clened the hall and stairs, made chilli (which I am about to have for tea (gone 10.15pm!) and showered. I’m, again, fucking knackered! Posh played Portsmouth in the EFL Trophy 3rd round at home. Won 5-1. Nice.

Day 298: Had an electrician rouind for the EICR cetrt. He was here until 2pm and it was a pain in the arse, having to work upstairs plus, with having to cut the electricity, all the smart devices lost their settings. And it was freezing up there.

Day 299: Work was impossibly infuriating. Not one pc remote session went to plan! It was pissing down a lunchtime during my walk but, I have to say, the cheap TargetDry coat copes fine in heavy rain for short periods. Everywhere is flooding again even though the rain turned to sleet. By my evening walk, it was dry but bloody cold. Then, when I got in I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor and the bathroom’s as well. I fucking done in! Chatted to dad today - same as ever!

Day 300: What a fucking work at week! I am so glad it’s Friday. To celebrate, I ordered new walking boots: Scarpas £121!

[spacerangersam]

did a big ol edit of episode 1 of bsotd and i’m a lot happier with it now

SMITH: Is this thing working?

He has a Welsh accent and his voice is rough and quiet.  It is still a nice sounding voice, however. His words are followed by a noncommittal murmur, belonging to a different voice.

IMELDA: I didn't take IT, I don't have a fucking clue

Her voice is smooth and naturally a little louder than the boy's, but not to the point where it’s harsh. She has an accent, Irish, but it’s very faint.

SMITH: I mean, a light is on, so tha’s good, right?

IMELDA: If I say yes, can we move on?

SMITH: Uh, sure

IMELDA: Then yes

SMITH: Alrighty then... well, there's a very big chance this didn' work, but I'm just gonna act like it definitely did. So, uh, hello... world. My name is Smith Waterston, and I, uh, am the temporary host of the Clearwater Boarding School radio show

UNKNOWN GIRL: I'm Imelda Abayan. Student council president. I'm here to make sure he doesn't kill himself

Smith laughs sharply then clears his throat. 

SMITH: Um, so someone messed with the... thingies and... did something? I don' know, I kinda blanked out three minutes in

IMELDA: Don’t get hung up about it, I don’t think he honestly knew what he was saying either

SMITH: No, I-I’m sure he did

IMELDA: Considering he said the word ‘doohicky’ at least three times, I would argue not

SMITH: …Maybe tha’s a technical term?

IMELDA: Smith, don’t make me call you an idiot. I don’t like calling injured people idiots, it seems rude

SMITH: Fine. Anyway, the point is, people outside of Clearwater should now be able to hear us. Outside of the school that is, no idea about outside of town.

IMELDA: I’d assume not

SMITH: Regardless, uh, hello to everyone who’s listening.  So, my job here is to keep you up to date on the schedule, the menu, rules and so on

IMELDA: Dead?

SMITH: Oh, yes. And to keep you updated on the list of dead and injured, obviously

IMELDA: Moment of silence?

SMITH: Huh? Oh! Yes, uh, let us have a moment of silence for the prior host of this station, Annabelle Bloom. Rest in peace, Miss Bloom

There are 30 seconds of silence.

SMITH: Thank you. I heard it was quick at least

IMELDA: Messy though. Jumped off the roof

SMITH: Really? I heard she was pushed

IMELDA: I also heard that a disembodied encouraged her to do it. Who knows?

SMITH: No one, I assume. You know, since she’s dead and all. Can’ really ask her now, can we?

IMELDA: Well, we could. We just wouldn’t get a reply, which would make it all pretty pointless

SMITH: I think they burnt her, so I don’ think there’d be anything to ask anyway. I mean, you could ask her room, but tha’ jus’ seems a little silly

IMELDA: It does a bit

SMITH: Anyway, uh, I don' know how fast news travels out there, so jus' in case: all teachers of Clearwater are currently out of action. 40 out of 50 are dead, 10 are injured, 4 with a chance of full recovery, 6 are already having their funerals planned. With students, 120 of 478 are dead, 65 injured and thirteen missing.

IMELDA: We don’t have time to read out the names right now, but we will during the after-lunch show

SMITH: We’ve only lost thirty in the last month, however, which is honestly a pretty good number

IMELDA: You're making it sound like it's good that they're dead

SMITH: I, uh, meant in the sense that I expected the number to be much higher! Sorry, sorry

IMELDA: Chill, I got ya, man

SMITH: Alright, sorry, sorry. Um... it's been a surprisingly quiet week here at Clearwater. No deaths, only a number of minor injuries, and we even managed to contact our fellow boarding school, Bridgewater! 

Imelda claps slowly.

SMITH: The building is basically in ruins now, so we're making plans to move them an’ their supplies over here in the next week, which is nice. Always good to have allies, even if we did egg their school tha’ one Halloween...

IMELDA: Water under the bridge

SMITH: Well, I hope it is anyway. Or else this may all be an elaborate plan to murder us all, and I think we can all agree tha’ tha’ would be a bit inconvenient

IMELDA: Bit of an understatement, but okay

SMITH: Regardless, good news all around mostly. You know, apart from the mysterious symbols and messages appearing outside of the school…

IMELDA: Don’t think about it. And if you can’t not think about it, drink-

SMITH: Water

IMELDA: Don’t be a pussy, students. Get wasted

SMITH: Imelda, we’ve only been here one day, I swear if you get us reported- actually… never mind, carry on

IMELDA: Nice try, man. Finish the announcements

SMITH: Dammit. Right, so we have an update from the chemistry club, which is lovely. Honestly was beginning to wonder if they were all dead, so it’s good to know tha’ they’re not

IMELDA: You lot really need to get out more

SMITH: I- yeah. You do. Well, not out out, but outside of tha’ room at least. If you went outside you lot would be fucked

Smith lets out a sharp laugh. Then coughs.

SMITH: Um. No offence

IMELDA: I’m sure they didn’t take any. And even if they did, the fuck they gonna do? They’re all skinny nerds

SMITH: Dorian’s part of the chemistry club, and he’s built like a goddamn shithouse

IMELDA: He’s an outlier. I shouldn’t have to account for rogue rugby-playing science nerds

SMITH: You know he’s absolutely not an outlier

IMELDA: Hey, let my schemata alone you bitch, stop trying to make me acknowledge differences

SMITH: Alttight, calm down, I’ll leave your… schisms alone

IMELDA: That’s absolutely not what I said

SMITH: Anyway, the chemistry club finally figured out how to make some Malakoff cocktails. Also managed to get their hands on some RDX! Took some time, but hopefully but tomorrow we'll have some brand-new weapons on hand, how exciting!

IMELDA: And necessary since while there are plenty of corrosive acids on offer here, most are slow acting

SMITH: Not to mention we haven't figured out a more effective way of using them past just... throwing the jars at them... which doesn't always work... it’s happening okay, I promise

IMELDA: Slowly

SMITH: Better than nothing. Helps we found the secret stash of Mr. Fishmonger's alcohol. Who knew he was a massive alcoholic?

IMELDA: Everybody

SMITH: Oh

IMELDA: Also, ‘massive alcoholic’? What does that mean? Would it even be possible to be a small alcoholic?

SMITH: Yes, and it's called 'I only drink on the weekend every weekend and sometimes during Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday Friday to get through the week until the weekend'

IMELDA: …Aight

Loud, blaring sirens go off.

IMELDA: ...Shit.

SMITH: Gotta go

...

SMITH: False alarm. Mary James was jus’ sleeping walking, again.

IMELDA: Well, at least she won't be doing that again anytime soon

SMITH: Ah, yes... well they expect she'll, uh, make a full recovery in a few weeks

IMELDA: If you’re passing by, maybe consider dropping in an’ saying hi. Especially if you’re the one who threw that bicycle at her. I mean, what the fuck man, where did you even get that thing? And how did you have the upper body strength to lob it across the hallway?

SMITH: Well, they do say fear gives you an adrenaline rush

IMELDA: Do they?

SMITH: …I don’ know, I’m not a science guy. Anyway, someone kindly gave up some of their hair dye, so if you see what you think looks like an infected with neon pink hair, maybe jus’ wait a second?

IMELDA: Don't immediately throw a fucking bike at her, is what he means...

SMITH: Or anything? Preferably

IMELDA: If you really must throw something, go for something that's not too hard, and please, only throw one thing before scouting out. We're running out of bandages

SMITH: And people

IMELDA: And now we’re all out of bikes

SMITH: And with the nurse still healing from his broken arm...right, jus’... think first, throw second? Maybe?

There's the sound of a door opening. Someone walks in, then walks back out. Smith and Imelda begin to talk quietly between themselves.

SMITH: Are they fuckin' serious?

IMELDA: No one's drawn dicks on it, so I assume so

SMITH: Bit late, ain' it?

IMELDA: Might explain on the back

SMITH: ...Ah... right

IMELDA: How bad is it?

SMITH: Check for yourself

There's the sound of papers rustling.

IMELDA: Damn

SMITH: Yeah

Smith coughs.

SMITH: Righ', righ', sorry to cut this ... show? Is it a show?

IMELDA: No idea

SMITH: Fair enough. Anyway, as I was saying, sorry for cutting... this short today, they've changed up the schedule a bit

IMELDA: We’ll be back after lunch though. Or, we should be, at least

 SMITH: Um, to play us out is Mary James' song, Fuck Apples

IMELDA: I know many of you are startin' to get physically sick when you hear this song with how often it's been played, but hey, the poor girl's in hospital, I think she deserves this.

SMITH: And she did say she will be collaborating with the orchestra when she's recovered to finally bring youse some different songs. Anyway, my name is Smith, and goodbye for the evening

IMELDA: It's still morning

SMITH: Whatever. You gonna to say goodbye?

IMELDA: Yeah. Goodbye

SMITH: Exnihilo nihil fit

IMELDA: ...Habang may buhay, may pag-asa. Goodbye 

[officialthiamlibrary]

~~2018 THIAM BIG BANG CREATIONS: OG~~

November 12, 2018 - November 21, 2018

Your one-stop collection to all the Big Bangs added here on Tumblr, updated each day of the event. Title/Artwork links will direct you to the creators’ tumblr posting. Four months of passionate and diligent preparation; please like, reblog, and comment to show the spectacular creators love!! <3

~ Monday: 11/12/18 ~

Faking It (+ Artwork) 

Author: xtarmanderx | Artist: manonisamelon

Theo and Liam have been best friends forever and they’ve gone unnoticed throughout school, much to Liam’s displeasure. One day at lunch, everything changes when a girl overhears them and is convinced they are dating. Liam, realizing this could be their shot at popularity by being the first same sex couple in schools, convinces Theo to fake date him. Between pretending and trying not to get caught, Theo will also have to avoid breaking his one rule: to not fall in love with his best friend.

[19k Words | Rated M | No Warnings]

Behind His Smile (+ Artwork | + Plus Here)

Author: flyde | Artist: marauders-mess

In this High School AU, the beginning of the relationship with everybody’s darling Liam couldn’t come anymore out of the blue to introvert Theo. He’s been in love with the boy’s incredible smile forever, but when things go great and move fast between the two of them, he can’t help but think it’s all a little too good to be true. Although he’s half expecting for everything to turn out to be just a really amazing dream, he’s still deeply shocked when he hears that Liam set the treehouse he’s been building in his backyard on fire, almost burning the Geyers’ house down as well. Liam shuts himself off completely, nothing makes sense to Theo until he learns about Liam’s diagnosis with bipolar disorder. ‘Behind His Smile’ is the title of a comic book Theo creates for Liam, telling the story of a man who was robbed of his magical smile, a hero who has to fight evil and himself to get it back.

[34.9k Words | Rated M | Rape/Non-Con]

~ Tuesday: 11/13/18 ~

I have friends in both places (+ Artwork) 

Author: sarcxstic-stilinski | artist: manonisamelon

Liam Dunbar was a guardian angel, but when a grave mistake gets him kicked out of heaven, Theo Raeken, king of hell, is right there to help.

“I don’t like to commit myself about heaven and hell - you see, I have friends in both places.” – Mark Twain

[32.7k Words | Rated T | Graphic Violence]

Deal With the Devil (+ Artwork )

 Author: sharkycannotwrite | Artist: wolfenboyb

Theo Raeken’s family was murdered when he was 10, and the wolves that did it took him in. He did everything possible to survive until he was stronger, faster, and deadlier than any of them. He finally gets the chance he has been waiting 9 years for and escapes. He ends up severely wounded however, only to be found by IED plagued runaway Liam Dunbar. The 17-year-old becomes both the bane of Theo’s existence, and his best friend. The two crisscross the country, killing with no discernible pattern and doing anything they must to survive. (Or: The Thiam serial killer au no one asked for, based off the song Wires by The Neighborhood)

[33.8k Words | Rated T | Graphic Violence]

~ Wednesday: 11/14/18 ~

Helping Hand (+ Artwork)

Author: Extrasteps | Artist: imjustafangirl-nobodylovesme

Post 6B. Liam is exhausted. The whole town knows about werewolves, but now with the influence of the Anuk-ite vanquished, everyone instead wants his help. Working to the bone, it takes one chance encounter to realise that someone a little closer to home needs his assistance. Enter Theo, homeless, hungry, and his mask finally crumbling to dust. Liam offers him his friendship, his home, and maybe something more.

[18.2k Words | Rated M | No Warnings]

Soulless (+Blockrose’s Artwork | + irwintrashx’s Artwork)

Author: slayerwithredhair | Artists: blockrose | irwintrashx

In an AU where Theo was never dragged to hell and never earned his redemption, the chimera plays a dangerous game with an angry young beta struggling to hold his life together. Prowling the shadows and craving connection, Theo tempts Liam farther and farther down a dark road that test’s the beta’s control in ways neither of them are prepared for. But as the secrets mount up and things get broken, it’s ultimately Theo who realises he might not be able to handle the path his has set them on, especially when his past doesn’t want to let him go.

[26.7k Words | Rated Explicit | Graphic Violence]

~Thursday: 11/15/18~

the insuffeably cruel life of Theo Raeken: an anti-love story (+Artwork)

Author: marauders-mess | Artist: wolfenboyb

Theo isn’t dumb. He’s read enough books, watched enough shows, seen enough movies and spiralled into fanfiction enough times to see where this is heading. He completely refuses to fill whatever Person A’s role is stored for him in life. No sir, that’s not his thing.

Person B can pretty much suck his ass.

[27.5k Words | Rated Mature | No Warnings]

i can’t not love you (+Artwork)

Author: eliestarr | Artist: 18-sweet-posioned-heart

Liam’s a little lost in life. His latest relationship has fizzled out, his best friends are about to be married, and he’s rapidly realizing he doesn’t want to be the best man without a date. So, inspired by their tale of rekindled romance, he decides to track down all his exes and figure out which one was right for him all along. The problem is that several have been out of contact for years, and he has no idea where they are. The solution? His promiscuous, struggling musician neighbor Theo, who happens to have dabbled in the police academy long enough to be good at digging up dirt and finding people. But time is running out, the wedding countdown clock ticking ever closer, and if Theo can stop flirting with him for maybe five seconds and find his former flames, he might have a shot at this. || What’s Your Number AU.

[ 48k Words | Rated Teen | Occasional swearing/mild sexual references]

~Friday: Nov 16, 2018~

Truth or Consequence (+Artwork)

Author: tabbytabbytabby | Artist: elistarr

When Theo is 8 years old, life as he knows it changes. He loses his family in an accident, and winds up with his sister’s heart. He spends the next few years living with Liam and his family, and trying to figure out what his life is supposed to be like now. Along the way, he falls for Liam and the two start dating. Until one night, the Dread Doctors come for him. Theo’s memories are taken from him and replaced with false ones, leading him to believe he’s been with the Dread Doctors since the accident. When he comes back to Beacon Hills, he’s there with a purpose. To get power and pack. He’s ready to do whatever it takes to get what he wants. What he’s not counting on is Liam, and the strange pull he feels towards him.

[86k Words | Rated Teen | Occasional swearing and mild references]

~Saturday: Nov 17, 2018~

Remember Me (+Artwork)

Author: francissnackhole | Artist: marauders-mess

Isn’t it absurd how one moment can change your whole life? One thing leads to another and suddenly your world turns upside down. The dominoes fall in perfect order and still you’re left without the one title that has kept your life in order. Theo finds himself in one of those situations...One second he’s happy and in love with Liam and the other he’s doubting that he will ever get his boyfriend back. Though, there is still hope that the dominoes will play well for him. Liam will remember him, right? 

[31K Words | Rated Gen | No Warnings]

A Love You Can’t Fight (+Artwork)

Author: lightfiretomypaperwings | Artist: Li0nh34rt

Liam is the newest history teacher at Beacon Hills High after being forced to quit his old job due to a relationship gone wrong with a fellow teacher. He promised himself that, no matter what, he’d never date a colleague again. Enter Theo Raeken, who is everything Liam ever wanted in a guy. The only problem? Theo is the biology teacher at his new job. Liam has to make a choice: to be willing to let go of his past fears of his past or to walk away and try to forget that Theo ever existed. Things get complicated after a night out with their friends. Enter students getting involved and trying to play matchmaker and Liam is in for one hell of a time.

[52k Words | Rated Explicit | Rape/Non-Con]

~Sunday: Nov 18, 2018~

Don’t Forget To Breathe (+Artwork)

Author: Snaeken | Artist: eliestarr

Formerly a professional ice hockey player in the NHL, Theo suffered a career-ending injury on the ice which resulted in the loss of everything he held dear to him. No longer able to cope with his teammates pity, and the speculation from the media and the general public on how bad his injury really is, Theo runs away. He goes back to the hometown he left behind when he turned pro, hoping to find solace in a place which has previously caused him so much pain. After a chance encounter in a graveyard of all places, Beacon Hills local Liam Dunbar slots himself into Theo’s life, wanting to aid him in both his physical and mental recovery. Theo quickly discovers he’s not the only one who has demons, and when feelings become involved… well that’s just inevitable, isn’t it?

[23.9k | Rated Explicit | No Warnings Apply]

~Monday: Nov 19, 2018~

The Boyfriend Experience (+Artwork)

Author: Extrasteps | Artist: AJP_37

Theo is a self-made alpha werewolf. By day he builds up his business, Raeken Industries and by night he runs the hottest club in LA, Sinema. Alongside his pack, Tracy, Josh, Corey and Hayden, he helps to protect LA. Escorting is so commonplace in this town that Theo doesn’t even blink twice when Derek Hale, another alpha, introduces him to Liam Wolf at Sinema one night. What does surprise him, however, is his immediate and intense attraction to the other man and the realisation that Liam is his mate.

Liam's only been a werewolf for four years, having been taken in by Scott and the rest of his pack, but he's been fitting in just fine. Working as an escort under Scott is certainly no hardship, and with his blue eyes and cheeky smile, he's never had to try all that hard to pull new clients. Liam is out with Derek when he introduces him to Theo. He's definitely attracted to the young alpha; Theo's hot and rich, what's not to like?

But the name Theo Raeken always seems to be followed by whispers of some unspeakable event, of a past marred in ambiguity. What happened five years ago and why does it still have such a profound effect on the LA packs?

[52.9k Words | Explicit | No Warnings]

Willful Entrapment (+Artwork)

Author: RedCoral | Artist: Theraeken

Theo looked at him from head to toe in the dingy bar they were at, his expression thoughtful and deadly serious as he said, "So tell me Liam. Are you sure you're not a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written all over you."

Liam laughed so hard, he almost fell from the barstool. "Oh my God. Is that what you're going with?"

"Did you know people are more likely to laugh at the jokes of people they're attracted to?"

"And you think I'm attracted to you."

"I think I've got a chance. Don't you?"

He did. And he blew it. He left the next morning to save Liam from the whirlpool that was Theo's life. But Liam had to go and put himself in harm's way again, didn't he? So, Theo entered the Mayor's race against Liam. And now everything was upside down with no way to fix it and survive. But his own survival had never been part of his quest, had it? It's always been Liam's, no matter what Liam thinks.

[41.9k | Teen | No Warnings Apply]

~Tuesday: Nov 20, 2019~

Mining for a Chance (+Artwork)

Author: Maniacalmidnight | Author: rux-ian

Beacon Hills is hit with a string of sudden disappearances - a master serial thief at work. This wouldn’t really be a problem, except Corey’s lost his camera - the key to passing his photography course. Mason the harried boyfriend is harried, and Liam can’t take the constant fretting; there’s only so much a boy can take! Obviously, this calls for drastic action - but no worries, Liam’s on the case!

…Now, if only stupid, jerk-face Theo would stop running through his mind all the damn time.

[25.5k Words | Teen | No Warnings]

It was only a bet (+Artwork)

Author: VolsungartheMighty | Artist: lightfiretomypaperwings

When Theo Raeken, captain of the college football team, loses a bet to one of his team mates, he is forced to start a fake relationship with Liam Dunbar, all around nerd and Theo’s neighbour, who constantly complains about the noise. Theo isn’t expecting his feelings to become involved, yet they do, but before he can act on them, the worst happens – Liam finds out about the bet.

[37.3k Words | Mature | No Warnings]

~ Wednesday: Nov 21, 2019 ~

Let Me Be Your Front Line (+Artwork, + And Here)

Author: iwritefanfictionsometimes | Artist: lovelylittlegrim

Theo and Liam are thrown together when Theo’s father, the fey king, finally decides to let Theo be a musician. The only catch is that he needs a bodyguard. Liam wants nothing to do with the fey, but apparently, he has no choice. So now he’s going to be living with a pretentious, arrogant prince with stupid pointy ears and too fancy clothes for an unidentifiable amount of time. His magic is entirely too happy about it. They say they don’t get along, but months of movies, shared food, and built trust say otherwise. All Theo wanted was to put out an album. Liam wasn’t supposed to laugh at his jokes or stare at him like that. It’s very hard to stay focused when Liam sits there winding blue and gold magic around his fingers that Theo can feel from across the room. Or Theo is the fey prince who wants to sing instead, Liam is the several thousand year old year old witch that’s tired with life. They both find something that wakes them up, and it’s not necessarily what they expected.

[22.3k Words | Mature | No Warnings]

Making A Believer Out Of Me (+Artwork)

Author: xtarmanderx | Artist: tabbytabbytabby

A series of events have led Liam to believe that love doesn't exist, the first one being his parents' messy divorce. Liam, who hasn't been close with his dad in years, is suddenly faced with the opportunity to see him when he's asked to attend his dad's upcoming wedding. His mom convinces him to go and try and reconnect with his dad. There he meets Theo, the gorgeous son of his dad's business partner that is currently spending his summer living in the Dunbar's pool house. When Theo, a hopeless romantic, learns Liam's feelings about love, he makes it his mission to change his mind.

[63k Words | Mature | No Warnings]

Check out our event round for the 2018 Thiam Big Bang here. Happy reading!

[ktavey]

Final

Everything was cold. I hurt. Hurt from neck to chest. A radiating ache like I had been burnt and choked and stabbed. I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. It hurt too much. If I moved, then surely, it would hurt even more. I stilled; arms hugging over my chest. And when I didn’t breathe and I didn’t move, and I let the stiffness take over me.

 Mikaela’s body was found in a creek, late on a Tuesday afternoon. The body was hauled out of the water before the sun had begun to set. The sun was still warming the banks of the creek when the ambulance arrived. They pulled the body out of the water- cold, clammy, and blue; skin waterlogged, peeling back from nails. When the sun did set -and when the sun sets it always gets dark too fast too sudden- the ambulance drove Mikaela Todd, 16-years-old then and forever, silently and slowly away.

Mikaela was buried on a Friday, in a simple wood coffin, at the local Ridgewood cemetery.

             The school was abuzz with nervous energy. It was to be expected. Dead bodies were far from unique in Ridgewood, young dead bodies weren’t unheard of either. But not so close to the school. Not on that side of town. Not one of their own. Never so brazen, with no attempt to hide the crime.

It had only taken a few days for the rumours of murder to circulate. The police gave no details, naturally; so naturally, the students of Phoenix College had come up with the details themselves. Naturally, Jason hadn’t attended since they started. It hurt too much as Mikaela’s closest, and sometimes only, real friend. Children huddled and whispered, eventually, Jason had gotten sick of their stares, couldn’t stomach everyone pretending they had cared about Mikaela during life.

             The counsellors sat at desks in offices waiting for students to come to them. It was from them, or at least from their recommendation, that Jason had gotten time off school. He had wanted to just disappear, but the thought of how angry Mikaela would be stopped him. He couldn’t make Mikaela happy retrospectively. Couldn’t be who Mikaela wanted anymore, but now more than ever he wanted to try.

There had been subtle encouragement from the teachers for students not to leave the school alone, or too late, or too early. No one wanted to admit it could happen again. Everyone was on edge.

Sharon and her friends already walked in a group to and from school, as they all lived on the same route. And they travelled neither too early nor too late. The group was quieter with Jason no longer there. Mikaela had never added that much noise when deigning to walk with them, that at least was the same. Jason, when he met them by the door the first day he skipped, had just stood there before shutting the door, his eyes red and puffy. Now he didn’t answer the door.

Death hits everyone differently, or that was what Sharon had been told by her past psychologists; but she could swear some used it as an excuse, that some enjoyed the spectacle. It made her angry in Mikaela’s stead. A boy at their school Sharon didn’t really know and had never particularly liked had burst into tears the day before. He had cited Mikaela’s death as the reason. Death hits everyone in different ways, she reminded herself, in very stupid ways.

Phoenix College was considered a prestigious school within Ridgewood. It certainly was as prestigious as a town of 80,000 could get. It had been built from a renovated church and its surrounding cottages; the new, rectangular, modern aesthetic clashing with the gothic-esque steepled rooftops.

Phoenix considered itself impervious and impartial to external matters. As long as you passed the entrance exam. As long as the school could see you as an investment, you stayed. Mathew, hobbling on his twisted foot and crutch beside her, resolute in getting to school without help, was one of them. Very smart, very clever, and very aware of it. Sharon knew he was most likely of them all to go on to great things. He was also the second most fun to needle. The first was Jason. The third was Amelia. No sense of fun, of irony. Sharon poked her in the cheek without prompting. Amelia merely swatted her finger away with a scowl. Honestly, everyone was in such a bad mood since Mikaela died.

#

On Thursday afternoon Sharon was armed with chocolate and a dangerous sort of motivation. She wanted Jason back. This would be the day he left the house. The chocolate would entice him and he wouldn’t get the chocolate until he did so.

Sharon had elected not to tell the others her plan to visit because she wanted to be one. If they all turned up it would look like an intervention, putting Jason on the defensive. If she told the others they would tell her no. But Sharon had been through this when her Uncle had died, and there was only so much ‘time to process’ you could get before it became unhealthy, like a hole you couldn’t climb out of.

Someone was sitting hunched by the door of Jason’s house. Sharon froze. They had scruffy blond hair; arms wrapped around themselves like they had been crying. Sharon slowed her steps but continued, curious and cautious. It looked like Mikaela. No, it wasn’t -it couldn’t be, Mikaela was dead and buried in the community cemetery- but, but… it was Mikaela. Mikaela was sat on the porch. Arms wrapped around a dark shirt, looking like a refugee from war. Sharon stopped when she was close enough to see bruises and blood-streaked over Mikaela’s head. It couldn’t be. Sharon felt her arms spasm and sensed the chocolate fall to the ground as though it happened outside of herself.

Mikaela’s head shot up. ‘Sharon?’ Her name croaked out, sounding broken. ‘Can you get Jason to let me in.’ Mikaela looked like a wreck: hair streaked with dirt, face bloodied and bruised. Sharon realized with a cold dread running through her core that the dark shirt was stained with blood. So much of it. Too much. Like someone took a knife to Mikaela’s throat.

‘Can you get him to let me in?’ Mikaela’s voice sounded broken. How long had Mikaela been sitting here, choosing Jason’s over the police, a hospital? The initial shock zapped and zinged through her heart slowly dissipating in waves. Sharon became aware of just how stiffly she was holding herself, shoulder muscles twitching painfully as she forced them to relax.

‘But… But… What happened? Where’ve you been?!’ Sharon finally managed.

Mikaela’s hands rose to pull at dirty blond hair. ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember.’ And oh God Mikaela sounded wrecked. ‘Please, Sharon.’

Sharon tried but couldn’t find the words to demand an explanation. Not knowing what to do Sharon knocked on the door. Jason looked better than he had before, like he had slept and showered.

‘Sharon?’ Jason only looked at her, not noticing Mikaela still sat by the door.

             Mikaela scrambled up to stare at Jason, and went to grab hold of him. Mikaela’s hands went through him. Mud was stuck under Mikaela’s nails. Sharon stared. That hand burnt itself into her mind.

             ‘Sharon?’ Jason was frowning at her now, still blocking the doorway.

             ‘These are for you.’ Sharon managed, showing the chocolate. ‘But you have to let us in first.’

             Jason stared at the box in her hand for a moment, appraised her and only her suspiciously, then stepped aside. Mikaela darted inside before Sharon moved. Mikaela made a beeline for the bench. Sharon stood awkwardly in the entryway. She didn’t know how to deal with this grief, had expected a difficult conversation… but now... Sharon moved further into the kitchen turned and filled the kettle and switched it on. Sharon tried to search for signs Mikaela wasn’t real, signs of hallucination. Mikaela looked very real standing next to Jason. The bench cast shadows over Mikaela’s jeans, jeans streaked with blood and dirt like the rest of Mikaela- the same as they did to Jason’s pajamas. Sharon floundered. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do.

             ‘How’ve you been.’ She tried. ‘How…’ She wanted to ask about the funeral, if he had seen Mikaela’s body. Mikaela watched them both.

             Jason opened the packet of chocolate. Sharon abandoned the mission to get him out of the house.

             ‘Better, I suppose.’

             ‘Is you dad coming back from work soon?’

             ‘He’s not going to get the time off for at least another fortnight.’

             ‘Could you do me an odd favor? Step back a step, and closer to the window.’ Jason stepped into Mikaela. Like that, Sharon could see how Mikaela’s edges wavered ever so slightly. She felt herself go cold, begin to shake and reached with fearful hands for a chair. He couldn’t see, couldn’t even touch Mikaela! How…?

Jason poured them both a hot chocolate.

             ‘The last time I saw Mikaela was after practice...’ Jason continued without prompting. ‘God, Mikaela was so angry. The coach had her run extra laps because she was late or some shit. He wouldn’t take his eyes off her. Never did really.’

             Sharon felt Mikaela freeze beside them. She couldn’t bring herself to look over either.

‘Are you going to come to school with us soon.’ Sharon asked, if just to have something to say. Something to fill the pit that had opened up inside her stomach.

             ‘I guess… Maybe once everything dies down.’

             ‘That could take a while.’ Sharon huffed. ‘They say it was murder.’ All the while Mikaela had tried to get Jason’s attention, tried to touch his arm, his face. He didn’t react to it all.

‘It was a closed casket funeral, you know…’ Jason trailed off. His hands shifted around his mug. ‘… No one would tell me what happened… I presumed Mikaela drowned.’

             Mikaela raced out of the house moments after Sharon left. Distraught and sobbing, and followed Sharon back to her house.  

#

Mikaela was waiting in the hallway when Sharon awoke the next day. Sharon had hoped Mikaela would be gone. Mikaela was less grubby, still looked painfully real. Mikaela followed her out to walk with the group.

Amelia was the last to join the group, walking up and through Mikaela. Mikaela shuddered.

             ‘You okay?’ Amelia asked, sweet as could be, concern in her voice.

             ‘I may be haunted.’ Sharon replied blithely. The concern on Amelia’s face deepened. Mikaela scowled at her.

             ‘…Okay.’ Amelia returned and let the subject drop.

             Mikaela talked to her as they walked, and Sharon tried not to react. Just small observations, the history of landmarks they crossed, bits and pieces about her friends.

Sharon found it amusing that Mikaela talked more in death than life.

             ‘We should go to your death scene.’ Sharon suggested later that day, free from scrutiny in the comfort of her own room. ’See if you remember anything.’  

Mikaela was hovering near the door. Not literally. Mikaela was yet to do anything so cliché and stereotypically ghost-like. Mikaela wouldn’t walk more than a few steps into her room, far enough to look out the window.

Mikaela murmured in agreement, fingers ghosting through a chair.

‘What did you even do last night? Can you sleep?’

Mikaela frowned at the question. ‘I waited in the hall. I don’t know and I’m not going to try. What if I don’t wake up?’

‘Well… tonight I’ll put the tv on for you.’

The creek was abandoned when they got there. So Sharon presumed it had been ruled a drowning.

‘What were you even doing here?’ She asked.

Mikaela shrugged staring at the water.

‘Maybe you slipped and hit your head. You could have cut yourself on a stick or rock on the way down.’

‘Mikaela. Really… What were you doing here?’

‘I…’ Mikaela looked troubled. ‘I think…’ Mikaela shrugged helplessly and gazed at the water as though transfixed. Mikaela jumped back from the creek. Stared wildly over the shrubbery. Mikaela went to grab at Sharon, fingers slipping through her arm. Mikaela’s eyes were wild, panicked, terrified.

‘We have to go. Sharon…’ Mikaela’s words choked. ‘Owain. Owain Franks…’ The name meant nothing to her. Mikaela’s eyes were wide, so angry, so terrified. Sharon wondered if it was how she had looked when she died.

Owain Franks was detained on suspicion of kidnapping and murder on a Tuesday afternoon. He was arraigned for first-degree homicide on a Friday and sentenced to twenty years. Mikaela stopped haunting Sharon on the same day. Jason returned to school, joining their walks the following week.

[rjwrites22]

On Failure

A continuation of my previous post (the reblog).

“Story Time”:

I've always been told that I'm really smart, and I believed it to the point that if I did badly at school I felt like a complete failure as a person. I actually taught myself to read when I was like 3 or 4, and someone compared me to a calculator at one point, so I think I was perfectly within my rights to believe them.

In first grade, my mom tried to get the school to let me skip right to third grade, but they wouldn't let me, as they said I'd be "eaten alive" socially. I've never been good with people, so I don't think that would have mattered much.

Up until fourth grade, I did really well in school. I can't remember why, but that year, I started forgetting to turn in my homework, so my grades started dropping. The forgetfulness continued, and procrastination joined in at some point.

In high school, my sophomore year, I failed at least the second semester of Spanish 2, if not both semesters. I dropped the class the next year, even though that severely narrowed my list of options for colleges.

Junior year, I failed both semesters of English 3, since we had to do research papers both semesters and I've always hated them, so I didn't end up doing either one. Did summer school for that class, and the research paper I had to do in order to graduate I wrote over spring break my senior year.

I also failed second semester of U.S. History junior year, but I don't know why that happened, just that I had to retake the class.

My mom threatened to kick me out of the house when I turned 18 if I didn't graduate when I was supposed to. With her, doing well isn't something to be praised for. It's an EXPECTATION, at least when it comes to me.

I almost didn't graduate, by the way, but not because of anything academic. My school requires a certain amount of PE credits to graduate, 3.5 years' worth (but people in sports could get out of the class for the semester the sport was in), and I've never been all that good athletically. The final exam for second semester was running 3/4 of a mile in a certain amount of time (and they claimed to grade on effort, not skill! Hypocrites). I needed a certain grade on my final to pass the class (I think it was a 41, but I'm not quite sure), and I got two percent more than that (I think it was 43, again not sure). So I literally passed high school by TWO PERCENT on my fucking PE final. I hated that class for the most part, and I think that it's completely reasonable for me to do so.

College time now. First semester of my first year was hell, in more ways than one. My seasonal depression was the worst I can really remember it ever being, likely due to the added stress of both college AND the political clusterfuck that was the end of 2016.

In Calculus, the professor has a policy that if you don't have at least a 60% after the second chapter test, which is effectively the midterm, you get dropped from the class. After the second test, I got dropped, and I felt like a complete failure. I've always done well in math, so this was a real hit to my self esteem.

I also failed psychology, but that was because petty much all our assignments were online, so I forgot to do them.

Band, I got a D in. Why? Because the professor gave writing assignments, and I HATE those, so I didn't do them. I also forgot to do them, but that's not really the point.

Got a shockingly good grade in English (B), and chemistry was good too.

Second semester wasn't too much better. Failed English, because I got the due date for the research paper wrong by two days. Failed chemistry, because I missed a couple days and didn't have time to catch up before the test.

First semester my second year was worse, grade-wise. Retook psychology, failed once again for the same reason as before. Retook calculus, and I passed it with a D. I needed a C or above to move on to calc 2, so that sucked.

I was supposed to take economics, but financial aid was a bitch and it was an online class so when I couldn't get the book I was screwed. After I got the book, which I had to buy loose-leaf and thus couldn't return, I found out that I'd been dropped from the class. That damn book cost me like $200, so I was pretty ticked off by that.

Second semester that year was great, like REALLY great, so no real comment on that here since this is about failure.

First semester this year - my third year. It didn't go as well as I'd hoped.

Over the summer, I got a job. Third shift at a factory in town, 10:30pm to 6:30 am. I continued the job through the end of August, but then I had to quit for my own well-being. My classes were pretty much all day on Tuesday and Thursday, with nothing on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I would get off work, go home, shower, then go right to school. Classes almost straight through from 10:35 to 4:50, no lunch break or anything, then I'd go home, catch a few hours of sleep, and go to work again. I had a nervous breakdown in physics one Thursday, when I literally COULDN'T EVEN THINK. Physics was my last class of the day, so I was almost dead by the time it started, so... Yeah. It wasn't great. Quit my job a week after the breakdown.

I got a D in physics, or maybe a VERY low C. I blame the fact that I probably didn't absorb all that much for the first few weeks, since I was basically a fucking zombie during that class.

Took economics again, this time an actual class. I thought it would be a time-filler, something I'd do because I needed the credit from it. It was actually a lot of fun, though. Got a B.

Calculus, I have no idea how well I did, even though the final was a week ago so the grade is definitely online for me to see. I'm too scared to look at it, since I didn't do too well on the tests.

Actually, I had a dream about my calc grade this morning. I'd gone online and checked, and my final grade for the class was like a 46%. That was just a dream, thank god, though it did nothing to help my fear of what my grade might be.

I'll check the grade at some point, might remark on it here if I remember to.

tl;dr: RJ fails at shit but keeps going because I'm a stubborn bitch.

Moral of the story? If you fail, you can move on from it. If you fail the same thing multiple times and keep going at it, then you're just as stubborn as I am - though I certainly hope you're better off mentally than I am - and I commend you for your persistence.

Keep on keeping on, people.

[lifeisjustanotherstory]

W/c 21/01/2019 - the week in anecdotes and not-shower shower thoughts 

Monday

Aytaj went to Milan for the weekend. MILAN. Beats my weekend. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I just found out that “Royals” by Lorde came out 6 years ago this year, and time suddenly seems to have flown past. I mean...6 years? Really?! It’s probably been a year since I heard the song, and listening to it feels very nostalgic. The Youtube playlist moved on to “Team”. I used to like a particular chorus in that song - and still do - it lent itself to story ideas, and great character adventures in my head. I need to write again soon - it has been too long. 

We live in cities you'll never see onscreen

Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things

Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams

And you know we're on each other's team

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Waiting for allocation of tasks from the US team. Currently have to chase Chase for our scoping file. 

(chase Chase...once you hear it, you can’t unhear it...)

**************************************************************************************

Tuesday

I wore my jumper on Tuesday, as I had planned. Getting up early, I hadn’t thought much of not seeing the brand logo on the front - it crossed my mind, only to be replaced with the thought of catching my train.

I went through the day - a good 95% of it - before one of the Managers called me as I made my way to my locker to put away my things for the day. Her name is Amy, and she lives near one of the towns that my train stops in on my way home.

“Deepa? I think your jumper is on back to front.” I lifted up the item of clothing in question, and to my deep embarrassment I was faced with the jumper’s label. I nervously laughed and headed to my locker as she made her way out to the bathroom. I was walking around with a silver pheasant on my back all day.  

Mortified doesn’t cut it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I accidentally put Sahil’s coffee cup in my locker yesterday and now he’s got a huge white label on it, with his name in block letters. Oops.

But at least he’s sitting next to me again. Or maybe that’s just because I always let people use my chargers. 

**********************************************************************************

Wednesday

I’m trying to make my way up the stairs without stopping, which causes me to huff and puff (no houses are blown down, however), go red in the face and get a pain in my lower abdomen. No pain, no gain eh. Anyway, my eyes met Jasper’s on the way up, and we exchanged “Morning”’s. He knows I come in early, and vice versa, but we never seem to interact any more than that.

Anyway, he held open the door for me on the 10th floor, which I felt was very considerate. He didn’t have to, but he heard me coming (granted, I wasn’t that loud) and waited. I can’t say I’ve heard all good things about this guy - but his action today spoke a lot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Finally relented and chose to get a breakfast from the canteen today. Still haven’t decided whether I’ll expense it though. Mushrooms were my favourite kind, wide and flat - like I’d never seen before, the egg nicely poached and the beans tasty. The sausage was all the more succulent for the guy forgetting to charge it to my total bill, which came in at a round £3.00.

Back up in the audit room and I was in mid-conversation, with my breakfast box hanging dangerously close to the edge of the table. Indeed, if not for Fahim’s hand, it could have ended up on my (suede) dress or on the floor. Credit to his reflexes for saving my day.  

*******************************************************************************************

Thursday

My dad remarked that the jumper I chose to wear today doesn’t have a very obvious logo on it. What cruel irony is this?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Did 11 year old me ever think of her 21 year old self deciding to take a 6:11 train, instead of the 6:20, just so she could catch some z’s onboard? #10yearchallenge

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Aytaj offered me some of her chocolate. It’s milk chocolate with a hint of toffee, but it looks like dark chocolate. Azerbaijani chocolate has exceeded my expectations. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Had to reach out to a guy from our Swiss team in order to get some accounts that the UK team needs. No need to fear - Emanuel is here (!!!)

He is also up for the weekend because let’s be real, as if that isn’t what everyone is thinking.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Oh my gosh, just filled up my bottle and that is some.fresh.water.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I enjoy sitting next to Aytaj. No one else would have such fun trying to solve an IT issue. Or have cool client names (Sandwich, Hong Hong...and my personal fave; Jing Jing). Or laugh about their half-eaten chicken leg on the floor. (Thankfully, it was in a box). 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Managed to return the favour to Aytaj and gave her a chocolate biscuit. Matt H had one too. 

******************************************************************************************

Friday

Does Nick even know my name? Of course, there is no reason for him to address me by it when it’s just the two of us in the audit room. 

He promised not to rub his fancy breakast in his face as he left the room to go the restaurant. We’re approaching banter stage. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fahim looked shattered, and I told him as much.

Me, over Skype; You look so tired

Fahim: my face speaks 1000 words about my tiredness lol

Me: Where’s a painting emoji when you need it?

Earlier we’d gone to get drinks from another floor today. I remarked that I don’t drink coffee, and he was really surprised. Shocked indeed. I must be one of the few people who don’t in this job. Coffee is like water for the majority of finance professionals. (I jest, but I have honestly seen people drink as much coffee as water, if not more.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sahil knows I get in early, so when someone said that I’d need to go and do something at 11:30am, he joked and said “That’s like evening for her.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Deepa, who you Skpying?” I could feel my stomach fall as I heard Jits ask. “You always put on your privacy screen when you’re not doing work?” I wasn’t Skyping, I was updating this blog. My thoughts will live on, as I hope them to, in this manner. Even if my currently healthy sleeping pattern doesn’t make it. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nick (Dorn as opposed to Daws) asked Jits which song the line “It’s electrifying” I was. I responded “Greased Lightning” without a second thought. Jits remarked that it must have been a favourite of my parents’ in their teen years. He wasn’t right about them liking it - but they were both 19 at the time of its release. Wow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Watching a comedy programme and I just sat through the comedian mentioning the word ‘cunnilingus’ without any change in my facial expression whatsoever. I deserve a pat on the back for making it. Thank god my parents didn’t ask me to explain what it was...

******************************************************************************************

Saturday

Four months till my exams, with busy season yet to really start for me. Cripes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Attempted to read. Attempted being the key word here. Made my revision timetable though.

A bit sad about my lack of weekend social life over the next few months, as if I even had one to miss?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Steak was worth forgoing my nap for. Only just. It’s been too long since I’ve had pure meat like this. I don’t think I could ever be a vegetarian.

Asked for a different kind of salad and got served the wrong one, only for them to bring a new one instead! Free salad, yay! (Green leaves are gr8, what)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This new car is too clever for us. One tyre goes under the set pressure and it sets off a warning sign in the car. Ignorance really is bliss.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

To write or not to write, that is the question.

******************************************************************************************

Sunday

Lifted my stuff off the floor and found Ayana’s letter underneath.I’d completely forgotten about it. It’s nearly a month after she sent it to me, and she deserves a lengthy reply. I’l take it in my bag to work and draft a reply to write next week.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Revision is going rather fine, if I do say so myself. Of course, I am not even one day in. Time will tell. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You know when you can sometimes taste what you had earlier? My cod liver oil capsule obviously broke on the way down, because my mouth has just been flooded with a fish taste. If someone kissed me right now, would they taste it?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I wrote, and it was liberating. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Less than an hour to bedtime and the first edition of a week in anecdotes and not-shower shower thoughts was a success. Here’s to next week and many more.

Deeps 

[iloveyoupittsburghpirates-blog]

We Have Reached A Crossroads, Pittsburgh Pirates

My Dearest Pittsburgh Pirates, 

It was the biggest week of the season and when it was all said and done you basically ended up right back where you started. Your eleven-game winning streak ended on Wednesday against a first place team, the Cleveland Indians, and then you split four games with a last place team, the New York Mets, which led you to a 4-3 week. That leaves you six games out of first place and four games out of the final Wildcard spot. Today is July 30th which means tomorrow is the trade deadline. With no game today, that means when the deadline hits on Tuesday, the most you could be out of the final Wildcard spot could be 4 ½ games. That puts you in a very interesting position. Milwaukee has the first Wildcard spot sitting 1 ½ games ahead of Arizona, who currently has the second Wildcard spot. Colorado is 3 ½ games ahead of you, Atlanta is 2 ½, and you’re the third team out of the Wildcard. You’re very much on the outside looking in as far as the playoffs go, but you are absolutely in it, so you need to act like it. Splitting a four-game series with the last place Mets at home didn’t exactly leave me with the highest vote of confidence but taking two out of three in Cleveland was rather impressive. These next two days will be very interesting and could in a lot of ways help shape the next three to four years of the franchise.

This week didn’t go quite as planned and that might mostly be because of the onslaught of injuries to your best hitters. In the midst of your lineup being the hottest in baseball, three of your four best players got hurt this week. The scariest, and what turned out to be the least severe, happened when Starling Marte took a pitch off his hand in the first inning on Wednesday. Initially the fear was it could be broken, but it fortunately turned out to be just a contusion. Marte missed the rest of that game plus two more. You lost two out of those three games. Before that, Corey Dickerson pulled his hamstring running to first base on Tuesday. You tried to wait out the injury but you finally put him on the DL on Saturday retroactive to July 25th. That means he should be available to return on August 4th. Then when it seemed like it couldn’t get worse, Josh Bell felt discomfort in his side running to first base on Friday. That turned out to be an oblique strain that landed him on the DL. Polanco has been on absolute fire, even through the Mets’ series, but your next three best hitters are Dickerson, Marte, and Bell. Marte returned Saturday, but not having Bell and Dickerson was probably a big reason for the brutal 1-0 loss yesterday. These injuries couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time but if you can survive this week then you might have your full squad back to make another run next week.

The trade deadline has basically arrived and it seems like one thing is very clear: you can't sell. It seemed like a foregone conclusion a couple weeks ago that you would trade Nova, Cervelli, Freese, Mercer, JHay, and Dickerson, but it doesn’t make as much sense especially given that you couldn’t get any value back except maybe for Dickerson and Nova. Now that you have won 15 of 19 games, it seems to change the whole opinion of this team, not just this year but moving forward. The two positions that are most of need are starting pitching and another reliever. Any trades you make shouldn’t focus on rentals, meaning someone who will be a free agent at the end of this year. There’s enough doubt that exists that it doesn’t make sense to go all in this year. Trading away prospects for two months of a player doesn’t make any sense right now. Controllable starters like Kevin Gausman and Chris Archer have come up in conversation but neither of those seem very realistic as of now. The most likely scenario seems to be adding a relief pitcher, which would still be worthwhile. With the emergence of Santana, Rich Rod, and Crick mixed in with the dominance of Vasquez, adding another upper level arm to that bullpen could make it one of the better ones in baseball. That could be essential for a team that can’t afford to pay top-tier free agents which means relying on winning close games. Your close enough that selling doesn’t make sense and doing nothing feels equally as apathetic. You have two days to figure it out and I will be extremely disappointed if you stand pat.

I think the main take away from getting back into this Wildcard race is that you might be a contender sooner than you think. On top of that, you might actually have a window that is closing. The dominance of Polanco, Marte, and Bell over the last month has been a revelation. The rotation has been better especially with Taillon pitching extremely well over that time and you have a dominant back-end of your bullpen. In the NL where there’s seemingly only two dominant teams right now (Cubs and Dodgers), it makes it seem believable you could be competitive between now and the end of 2021, when Marte will be gone. That’s why adding controllable players to this roster before the deadline makes so much sense because they could help you next year or in the years to come. That’s also why extending Corey Dickerson and trying to trade Austin Meadows for pitching makes sense because you need to be in the win-now mindset. I’m also not terribly high on Meadows at this point (.712 OPS in Triple-A this year), so I think selling high on him before his value sinks too low makes a lot of sense. The depth in your minor leagues has disappeared and now you are a top-heavy organization without many elite prospects coming in the future. There doesn’t appear to be anyone of the caliber of Cutch, Polanco, Marte, Bell, or even Taillon in your entire organization except maybe for Mitch Keller and Ke’Bryan Hayes. They are two of your four top 100 prospects and the other two are your first round picks last year (Shane Baz) and this year (Travis Swaggerty). They’ve proved nothing and they don’t even rank in the top 75 prospects according to most publications. You have the youngest staff in baseball and if you add to it, it could be good. You have a potentially really good offense if Marte, Polanco, Bell, and Dickerson continue at this level. You potentially have an elite bullpen especially if you add to it. The one thing this winning streak has taught me the most is that you have a three to four year window now. You need to take advantage of that like you didn’t the 2013-2015 window.

Things are about to get much more difficult. You have had a hell of a run, but the month of August has the potential to be brutal. This week is light as far as games but not as far as importance. After a day off on Monday, the Cubs comes to Pittsburgh for a rare two-game series. You face Jon Lester and newly acquired Cole Hamels, two lefties, which makes Dickerson and Bell’s absence a little more digestible especially when you consider you have another day off on Thursday. The St. Louis Cardinals come to town for the weekend, who are a game behind you in the Wildcard. As a matter of fact, with the Cubs and Cards on the docket this week, that means 28 of your next 30 games are against teams that are either ahead of you or are within two games of you in the playoff picture. The bad news is these are good teams, but the good news is that you have a chance to overtake some of these teams if you can beat them head-to-head. This run of games will be very telling as to the legitimate chances you have this season. If it’s not realistic, it does seem like there is a formidable team that’s a couple pieces away from potentially being a force. I hope that this streak showed you what’s possible. There is some legitimate talent on your team and there is no guarantee when players of that caliber will come along again. Do what needs to be done, whether that’s now or this offseason. Five huge games this week. Let’s see what you are made of. Good luck!

                                                                     Looking Forward To The Future,

                                                                                           Brad

P.S. stands for Pretty Standard which describes the clutchness of David Freese in his career. Freese single-handedly won a huge game on Friday night driving in all five runs in a 5-4 victory including a walkoff single in the bottom of the 9th. Freese has been on fire the last month and it makes you wonder if you should pick up his six million dollar option and keep him around next year. With this team showing they might be able to compete, doing something like starting rookies Kevin Kramer and Kevin Newman up the middle next year seems crazy. Maybe you pick up Freese’s option to give you depth at third and right handed option at first. Maybe you pick up JHay’s option or resign Mercer so that you’re not starting all rookies and then you rotate Newman, Kramer, and Kang at the other position depending on who is healthy and hitting. With this surge, it just seems like losing all of your veteran experience is now a really bad idea and David Freese provides veteran leadership as well as anyone.

[newstfionline]

Thursday, September 2, 2021

UN: Weather disasters soar in numbers, cost, but deaths fall (AP) Weather disasters are striking the world four to five times more often and causing seven times more damage than in the 1970s, the United Nations weather agency reports. But these disasters are killing far fewer people. In the 1970s and 1980s, they killed an average of about 170 people a day worldwide. In the 2010s, that dropped to about 40 per day, the World Meteorological Organization said in a report Wednesday that looks at more than 11,000 weather disasters in the past half-century. The report comes during a disaster-filled summer globally, including deadly floods in Germany and a heat wave in the Mediterranean, and with the United States simultaneously struck by powerful Hurricane Ida and an onslaught of drought-worsened wildfires. In the 1970s, the world averaged about 711 weather disasters a year, but from 2000 to 2009 that was up to 3,536 a year or nearly 10 a day, according to the report, which used data from the Centre for Research on the Epidemiology of Disasters in Belgium. The average number of yearly disasters dropped a bit in the 2010s to 3,165, the report said. Most death and damage during 50 years of weather disasters came from storms, flooding and drought.

Ontario to require COVID-19 vaccine certificates (AP) Ontario on Wednesday became the fourth Canadian province to announce residents will have to show proof of vaccination against COVID-19 to enter restaurants, theaters, gyms and other indoor public venues. Premier Doug Ford said the vaccination certificate program will take effect Sept. 22. Initially, residents will show a PDF or printout of the vaccination receipt they received when they got their COVID-19 shots, along with a government-issued piece of ID such as a photo health card or driver’s license. The province is expected to launch a system in late October that will send everyone a QR code to accompany their vaccination receipt. It will also launch an app that will allow service providers to scan the QR codes as proof of vaccination.

Biden defends departure from ‘forever war,’ praises airlift (AP) A defensive President Joe Biden called the U.S. airlift to extract more than 120,000 Americans, Afghans and other allies from Afghanistan to end a 20-year war an “extraordinary success,” though more than 100 Americans and thousands of others were left behind. “I was not going to extend this forever war,” Biden declared Tuesday from the White House. “And I was not going to extend a forever exit.” He is under heavy criticism, particularly from Republicans, for his handling of the evacuation. But he said it was inevitable that the final departure from two decades of war, first negotiated with the Taliban for May 1 by former President Donald Trump, would have been difficult, with likely violence, no matter when it was planned and conducted. “To those asking for a third decade of war in Afghanistan, I ask, ‘What is the vital national interest?’” Biden said. He added, “I simply do not believe that the safety and security of America is enhanced by continuing to deploy thousands of American troops and spending billions of dollars in Afghanistan.” The president lamented an estimated $2 trillion of taxpayer money that was spent fighting the war. “What have we lost as a consequence in terms of opportunities?” Biden asked.

Flames Threaten Lake Tahoe (1440) California’s Caldor Fire continued its steady advance toward one of the state’s most popular natural tourist destinations, with the flames just 3 miles from the town of South Lake Tahoe as of yesterday afternoon. The town, along with neighboring resort destinations, had mostly emptied out Monday, as a mileslong line of cars marched toward Nevada to avoid the danger. More than 50,000 people are under mandatory evacuation orders, and officials estimate 33,000 structures may be at risk if it continues to advance. As of this morning, the fire had burned almost 200,000 acres and is currently at 18% containment. The flames are advancing from the southwest side of the lake eastward, and have engulfed a large portion of Route 50, the primary eastbound road into the region.

Officials urge those who evacuated to escape Ida not to return (Washington Post) More than a million people began a second day in darkness in storm-stricken Louisiana, facing the possibility of days or weeks without power. Local and state officials continued to urge those who evacuated to stay away, warning that coming home now could mean returning to an area largely without water and power, struggling with limited services. Louisiana officials said those in particularly hard-hit places who chose not to evacuate may end up leaving anyway, as they find themselves dealing with the strained resources. The near-total failure of the region’s energy grid coincides with a sweltering southeastern summer and little respite for residents. Cars and generators will eventually run out of fuel; service stations can’t pump gasoline without electricity. Cellphone batteries will expire. Water treatment systems will buckle without a reliable power system.

Homeschooling reaches critical mass (Axios) The number of U.S. kids who are homeschooled has nearly doubled during the pandemic. Nearly 2.6 million kids have switched from traditional school to homeschooling since the pandemic began, according to a new report from the Bellwether Education Partners, commissioned by the Walton Family Foundation. Now the total number of homeschooled kids sits at about 5 million. According to census data, more than 11% of U.S. households are now homeschooling. Some parents have lost faith in traditional schools, others fear exposing their kids to the coronavirus. On top of the families who have pivoted to homeschooling, there are millions more who have moved their kids from public school to private school. In fact, the total number of kids who have switched schools is a whopping 8.7 million, per the Bellwether report.

Venezuelan opposition declares end to boycott, agrees to participate in local and state elections (Washington Post) Venezuela’s main opposition parties on Tuesday announced an end to their three-year boycott of elections organized by the government of President Nicolás Maduro, abandoning one of the main tactics of their long struggle to oust the authoritarian socialist by agreeing to field gubernatorial and mayoral candidates in upcoming races. The opposition, whose candidates in past elections have been harassed and banned by Maduro’s government, has boycotted all votes since 2018. On Tuesday, its leaders acknowledged the likelihood that the local and regional elections in November would again be rigged against them. They portrayed the decision to field candidates as a last-ditch effort to reignite their base and restore democracy to this beleaguered South American nation. Others, however, saw the move as simply a nod to the new reality in Venezuela, where Maduro has significantly strengthened his grip on power. Several people familiar with the inner workings of the opposition conceded the decision came in part because rank-and-file opposition members were clamoring for an end to the stalemate that has left them jobless for years. Many saw no endgame to the opposition’s strategy or any real chance that Juan Guaidó, recognized by the United States and more than 50 other countries as Venezuela’s legitimate leader, will ever assume power.

Polarizing Decision (Reuters) Relations between the EU and Belarus have worsened sharply over the past year since President Alexander Lukashenko claimed victory in an election his opponents and Western countries say was rigged. The EU slapped economic sanctions on Belarus and has accused Lukashenko of deliberately encouraging hundreds of illegal migrants to cross into Poland and the Baltic states Latvia and Lithuania in a form of “hybrid warfare.” Poland began building a barbed wire fence last week along the border in an effort to curb the flow of migrants from countries like Iraq and Afghanistan coming through Belarus. On Tuesday, Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki’s government formally asked President Andrzej Duda to impose a state of emergency for 30 days in parts of two regions. That would give Polish authorities the power to restrict the movement of people, including non-governmental organizations in the border areas. Human rights groups strongly criticized Poland’s approach, saying Warsaw must provide more humanitarian aid to those stranded on the border. Morawiecki said the blame lies with the Lukashenko regime that “decided to push these people onto Polish, Lithuanian and Latvian territory in an effort to destabilize them.”

Sri Lanka declares economic emergency to contain food prices amid forex crisis (Reuters) Sri Lanka has declared an economic emergency empowering the authorities to seize stocks of staple foods and set their prices, to contain soaring inflation after a steep devaluation of its currency due to a foreign exchange crisis. The president of the island nation, Gotabaya Rajapaksa, on Monday declared an emergency under the public security ordinance to maintain the supply of food items such as sugar and rice at fair prices. The emergency came into effect from midnight. The government has appointed a former army general as commissioner of essential services, who will have the power to seize food stocks held by traders and retailers and regulate their prices.

Australia now aims to ‘live with virus’ instead of eliminating it (Reuters) Australian authorities on Wednesday extended the COVID-19 lockdown in Melbourne for another three weeks, as they shift their focus to rapid vaccination drives and move away from a suppression strategy to bring cases down to zero. Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews flagged a staggered easing of the tough restrictions once 70% of the state’s adult residents receive at least one dose, a milestone he hopes to reach at least by Sept. 23, based on current vaccination rates. “We have thrown everything at this, but it is now clear to us that we are not going to drive these numbers down, they are instead going to increase,” Andrews told reporters in Melbourne, the state capital, after a lockdown for nearly a month failed to quell the outbreak.

Taliban focus on governing after US withdrawal (AP) After the end of the US airlift, “Afghanistan is finally free,” Hekmatullah Wasiq, a top Taliban official, told The Associated Press on the tarmac. “Everything is peaceful. Everything is safe.” He urged people to return to work and reiterated the Taliban’s offer of amnesty to all Afghans who had fought against the group over the last 20 years. “People have to be patient,” he said. “Slowly we will get everything back to normal. It will take time.” A long-running economic crisis has worsened since the Taliban’s rapid takeover of the country in mid-August, with people crowding banks to maximize their daily withdrawal limit of about $200. Civil servants haven’t been paid in months and the local currency is losing value. Most of Afghanistan’s foreign reserves are held abroad and currently frozen. A major drought threatens the food supply, and thousands who fled during the Taliban’s lightning advance remain in squalid camps. “Afghanistan is on the brink of a humanitarian catastrophe,” said Ramiz Alakbarov, the local U.N. humanitarian coordinator. He said $1.3 billion is needed for aid efforts, only 39% of which has been received. The challenges the Taliban face in reviving the economy could give Western nations leverage as they push the group to fulfill a pledge to allow free travel, form an inclusive government and guarantee women’s rights. The Taliban say they want to have good relations with other countries, including the United States. There are few signs of the draconian restrictions the Taliban imposed last time they were in power. Schools have reopened to boys and girls, though Taliban officials have said they will study separately. Women are out on the streets wearing Islamic headscarves—as they always have—rather than the all-encompassing burqa the Taliban required in the past. When the Taliban last ruled the country, from 1996 to 2001, they banned television, music and even photography, but TV stations are still operating normally and the Taliban fighters themselves can be seen taking selfies around Kabul.

Taliban takeover propels tiny Qatar into outsize role in Afghanistan (Washington Post) When the United States was forced to relocate its diplomatic mission from Afghanistan on Monday, it chose Qatar, a longtime mediator between the West and the Taliban and more recently the only government viewed as capable of coaxing the Afghan militants to stay engaged with the world. Qatar’s relationship with the Taliban stretches back years, reflecting the affinity of the small Persian Gulf state with Islamists and its wish to be a regional power broker. Its unique position has paid huge dividends in the last few weeks as Qatar played a pivotal role in helping the United States and other countries extricate tens of thousands of their citizens and allies from Afghanistan after the rapid Taliban advance. Qatar’s connections with the Taliban have made Doha the ­go-to contact for countries seeking influence in Afghanistan, as well as for desperate Afghans trying to leave and news media and nongovernmental organizations seeking help with evacuations. But Qatar also runs the risk of tarnishing its reputation if it is seen as too quick to embrace a brutal Taliban government, analysts said. “Qatar is happy to be important again, but it is also worried about the optics,” said Cinzia Bianco of the Berlin-based European Council on Foreign Relations.

Hezbollah hammered with criticism amid Lebanon’s crises (AP) Driving back to base after firing rockets toward Israeli positions from a border area last month, a group of Hezbollah fighters was accosted by angry villagers who smashed their vehicles’ windshields and held them up briefly. It was a rare incident of defiance that suggested many in Lebanon would not tolerate provocations by the powerful group that risk triggering a new war with Israel. As Lebanon sinks deeper into poverty, many Lebanese are more openly criticizing Iran-backed Hezbollah. They blame the group—along with the ruling class—for the devastating, multiple crises plaguing the country, including a dramatic currency crash and severe shortages in medicine and fuel. Critics say that rather than push for reform, Hezbollah has stood by its political allies who resist change. They say the group is increasingly pulling Lebanon into Iran’s orbit by doing its bidding, and that U.S. sanctions against Iran and Hezbollah have made things harder. Where Hezbollah was once considered an almost sacred, untouchable force fighting for a noble cause—the fight against the Israeli enemy—it is now seen by many simply as part of the corrupt political clique responsible for the country’s epic meltdown.

Doctor’s orders: ‘Nature prescriptions’ see rise amid pandemic (Reuters) When Annette Coen went for a health check-up last summer in Washington state, she and her doctor discussed concerns around her weight and asthma. Then her doctor offered a novel prescription: regular hikes in the woods. He gave Coen a one-year pass to Washington’s state park system and told her to “go for walks, go camping, do what you need to do,” Coen, now 53, told the Thomson Reuters Foundation. A year on, she said the park prescription was a “great experience” for her and her whole family. “I have lost 30 pounds (13.6 kg) since April this year ... just being out and about,” she said. With the COVID-19 pandemic highlighting the health benefits of spending more time outdoors, a growing faction of the U.S. medical community is prescribing time outside the same way they would traditional medication. In more than 500 scientific studies in recent years, researchers have linked time spent in nature with decreased anxiety, reduced risk of obesity and even reduced overall mortality, said Maryland-based pediatrician Stacy Beller Stryer.

[townienews]

The Townie Crier - Tuesday May 1, 2018

**notice no "It's Gonna Be May" cutesy Timberlake meme here** (mostly because It's Already May! And that meme doesn't exist)

pic.twitter.com/8FPEJMTqmf

— Boston Bobby (@TheBostonBobby) May 1, 2018

Welcome to The Crier for May 1, 2018. Yeah, we settled on a name for this daily ding dong post. @daelderstatesmn suggested that title and gets himself a shirt, and you get this highly digestable dose of daily Boston sports goodness. Links, tweets and videos aplenty. So let's briefly remember a Monday night that exhausted our thumbs and eyes equally...for more better than more worse. Or however that goes.

Let’s goooooooo

A post shared by Celtics GreenRunsDeep (@greenrunsdeep) on Apr 28, 2018 at 7:38pm PDT

And buoyed by that vintage double troll job playoff shirt that all in attendanc eat The Gahden 2.0 received, the hot shooting Celtics dispatched the Sixers (on a 20-1 streak rolling into Monday) in Game 1 of the ECSF, 117-101. Well, the shirt helped. So did great shooting from 3, team heart and hustle (the signature of this undermanned but never to be underestimated Celtics team), and some kickass individual efforts. Like The Buffet (my new name for Horford). Fahk that Average Al or Ordinary Al nonsense. That's old fake news, which is the worst kind. Al's getting it doen all over, from every inch of the court. He's The Buffet because he provides everything you need, and when you need it you can always go back for more. He's one of many making Ainge look like a friggin genius of late. And he'll tell you what you can do with your "Al is average and I can't draft" takes...

Danny Ainge status: still a competitor. pic.twitter.com/TcOWQL0OqQ

— NBA on ESPN (@ESPNNBA) May 1, 2018

No, but seriously, Horford has been great. It's like one of those high school rom-coms where there's no attraction until the kids get in detention of are stranded in some absurd situation together, and then suddenly love blooms. COnvenient how that works.

Al Horford has been a monster in these playoffs. An absolute force on both ends. Hopefully we've heard the last of the "overpaid Al" stuff. #Celtics

— Evan Lazar (@ezlazar) May 1, 2018

Oh...and if you're feeling THE BUFFET as much as we are, might I suggest a new Horford jersey or such? (**shameless merch plug**)

Umm...back to Ainge being a boss at his job? I think again, if not especially with Fultz on display miserably in the Garden, he came out smelling like fresh beer and roses when Tatum went off. Again. This kid's all-around everything is absurd. AND HE CAN'T LEGALLY DRINK.

"He's a rookie!" #CUsRise 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/t8bwFeHQMn

— '03 Kliff Kingsbury (@fearthe_beard11) May 1, 2018

Granted, the likes of Tatum and Horford were enabled offensively by Philadelphia's famous "Phantom Zone" defense.

Nice defense pic.twitter.com/rhxmDFMVpc

— John Karalis 🇬🇷 (@RedsArmy_John) May 1, 2018

But nothing - not fatigue, Philly's hot streak, an invisible defense - nothing was holding Terry Rozier back. This friggin guy...

The Boston sports fan heart is pretty full these days. But Terry Rozier is fighting hard to find himself a place in there.

— Fitzy (@FitzyGFY) May 1, 2018

Calling him SAVAGE for his pregame and in-game antics would be correct, but also an understatement. He's a savage, alright. And a beast. And the easiest guy to like and rally around. A savage rally beast. Filling in for Kyrie and dropping 29 in Game One against the Sixers? Draining threes left and right. And setting the emotional tone for the team and the night upon arrival...

Drew Bledsoe knows who Terry Rozier is! (Via @espn) pic.twitter.com/NoNI2pT76b

— Ballislife.com (@Ballislife) May 1, 2018

And now we've got this unexpected random magical bromance between Rozier and Drew Bledsoe? Couldn't ever have seen that coming, but that's the magic of playoffs in Boston. Can never be enough love for Drew by me. That he's become the symbol or icon, rally monkey of the Celtics playoff run thanks to an accidental troll job? (Guinness vice) BRILLIANT! Everyone needs to wear their Bledsoe jersey to work this week. So they can reach their peak Rozier level. Game 2 Thursday night, already can't friggin wait! And that genius Brad Stevens has deployed a stellar lineup to counter what should be quite acharge from the Sixers...

The Celtics have announced their Game 2 lineup: -PG: T. Rozier -SG: T. Rozier -SF: T. Rozier -PF: J. Tatum -C: A. Horford Bench -Terry Rozier -T. Rozier -Rozier -PG #12 -The guy in the Drew Bledsoe jersey -The guy Ainge wouldn’t trade for 100 first round picks

— NOTSportsCenter (@NOTSportsCenter) May 1, 2018

Oh - and Sports Radio and Hot Take Nation who will give the Celtics no credit and say that Philly played no D ("Philly used the New England D plan from SB 52" - you'll hear that shit)...you guys can tuck it and suck it!

via GIPHY

Meanwhile, in other Boston professional sports persons team playoff action...the Bruins lost to the Lightning 4-2. Gonna be honest (Monday was National Honesty Day)...I didn't really watch much. Beex were up 1-0. Woprst case (which played out) they go home split. So nice work, head help high, fellas. I thought the C's need my attention Monday (I don't parent mutliple children well). I read something about a bad call, Marchand getting hosed, Cassidy, who's a feisty sonofabitch in a Men's Wearhouse suit, wasn't happy. Good! A happy hockey cocach is an ineffective one (or so I heard...or not...I don't know hockey). They'll come back, chip on shoulder, tied in best of 5 with home ice in their pocket. Wednesday night, maybe the Bruins should all come to work wearing Drew Bledsoe jerseys??? Because this QB rally showing for a different hockey team didn't make me feel any better...

I really didn’t need to follow a Bruins loss by immediately seeing Jimmy G pump up the Sharks. God damn, plunge the dagger

— Pete Blackburn (@PeteBlackburn) May 1, 2018

And on the same night he was named to the NFL Network Top 100!

He has yet to lose a game as a starter 👀@49ers QB Jimmy Garoppolo (@JimmyG_10) is #90 on the countdown!#NFLTop100 pic.twitter.com/SPwl3KIbtL

— NFL Network (@nflnetwork) May 1, 2018

When Tom Brady did an appearance with Jim Gray and said he didn't feel apreciated by the Pats (**cough** Belichick)

Tom Brady was asked today at the Milken Institute Global Conference if he feels appreciated by the Patriots. His response: "I plead the 5th..." pic.twitter.com/8Tl6k5emj9

— Tom E. Curran (@tomecurran) May 1, 2018

Come on, Sports! Can't I just enjoy this Celtics win and the Pats draft, and the night, and maybe a whole week without any Pats related off-field disharmony or disturbance or disfunction or other dis- words? Not now...nope. Not. I can't...spent too much time wondering WTF with TFB and the NEP this offseason after the February 4th flying nutpunch. All set, check please! I'll pass. Too busy feeling good about what's coming this week, this fall...we'll just leave at it Tom being a sass, keeping the Pats atop page views for a while, taking attention away from the other teams who don't need the scrutiny? AWW MAN! Tom, you magnanimous SOB! Or maybe it was to get you in the news to elevate Best Buddies ride awareness? No press is bad press, right? Just ask Michelle Wolf! **NEXT MORNING UPDATE-AGE** There are plenty of sound bites of Brady paying due respect to Belichick and saying he knows BB is best for him, tough to play for, and that they make each other their best. Which is what we've all always known. Again, they don't need to quilt together or share recipes or watch "This Is Us"., Just win football! Enough Fake Foxboro News! Alright, enough of that for now. We'll let it slide until someone tells me I should give aflying summer sausage. OH...and the Sox won, beat the bumbling Royals, 10-6. E-Rod sucked himself off early, but fear not - healty Xandah to the rescue.

Heads up we got a piss missile on the Pike expect delays seek alternate route pic.twitter.com/HoKIUe6hOs

— Jared Carrabis (@Jared_Carrabis) May 1, 2018

2 wins in a row? HOT STREAK AHOY! use caution when handling these Sawx! KC coming to town might be the perfect remedy to flush last week away like a carton of old chineser food you know will smell the garbage barrle up too much. Alright, so there we go - C'ss and Sawx win! Bruins lose! Brady wants the love. Now let's all carry on and booze. Hapy Tueday, ya humps. More soon - make sure you catch the Draft webcast, and all-new slew of NFL FAN THERAPY coming all week long. GFY!

[nashvilletonihon]

Trial By Fire

So I had to update this intro a little bit considering I started writing this post like, 2 weeks ago...It’s the end of desk-warming season here and I’m patting out the butt shaped imprint I have worn into my chair over the last month and am finally getting back in the classroom. (At Kumihama anyway.) For those of you unfamiliar with the Japanese educational system, the brand new school year just started and we welcomed those bright eyed and bushy tailed 一年生 ichinensei (first year students) as they make their high school debut. 

It seems only appropriate then that I just recently finished a whirlwind week long side gig playing tour guide to my mom and sister as they came to visit Japan for the first time ever. Being able to show them around my town, introduce them to my co-workers, friends and the people who have been so influential while working on creating a new life, sharing the history, my favorite foods and secret spots was so incredibly gratifying in the most selfish way. That being said, there is an added level of stress and anxiety to hosting friends and family while living and working in a foreign country. Especially one that doesn’t speak English as it’s first language. Unlike if I was living in the U.K., Ireland, Canada or some other English speaking country, I couldn’t leave my mom and sister alone anywhere. I couldn’t tell them to meet Jacob and I at a certain train station, restaurant or temple for fear of them getting lost and not being able to find them for hours. I couldn’t hand them a menu to let them choose what food to eat or suggest they casually peruse a shop or convenience store because they would have no idea what anything was. (Heck, I don’t know what everything is.) Having to be ‘’on’’ all the time is completely exhausting and honestly, by day number 3 I was about ready to choke my little sister out as I screamed ‘’JUST FIGURE IT OUT LIKE I DO’’ over and over again.

One thing I’ve noticed the most about being a foreigner in Japan is that, like most adult experiences I’ve had, it’s all trial by fire. Of course people will go out of their way to help you, don’t get me wrong. The myths about Japanese politeness are all true, but they’re also just as likely to sit back and watch you struggle. It’s all about balance I guess... Just when you think you’re getting the hang of things (and maybe a little too big for your britches) Japan laughs and knocks you back down again. A prime example would have to be what I now and will forever refer to as, The Parking Incident. As I mentioned, my mom and sister were in the country a few weeks ago, so here’s a very brief look at our schedule: (trust me, it’s pertinent to the story...)

Sunday - They arrive!! Monday - Drive on up to Tango (Where I live.) Tuesday - Tango Wednesday - Drive on down to Kyoto City/Uji (Where Jacob lives.) Thursday - Kyoto City Friday - Nara Saturday - Osaka

The reason our schedule is important to the next bit of my story is because while we booked my mom and sister a hotel room in Kyoto City, Jacob and I stayed at our apartment in Uji. (Don’t worry, I still live in Tango. It’s my future ‘’new’’ apartment.) In a moment of immense clarity and ‘’good thinking’’ on my part, I decided to leave my car at the pay-per-day parking lot next to Ogura Station in Uji, which is about an 8 minute walk from our apartment. Since Jacob and I would be taking the train to and from the city, my car could just chill there for the 4 days I wouldn’t need it. At ￥600 a day (or roughly $5.37 USD) it was a gosh darn STEAL. Now let’s fast forward to Sunday after my mom and sister left. Jacob and I are going to Costco because, PIZZA, (and other stuff too I guess). We’re laughing and having a great time despite the rain that’s starting to fall when I ask Jacob to tell me which number spot I had parked in. His first response if 6. I punch in the number and the machine says I owe ￥600. I tell him that can’t be right because I’ve been there for longer than a day. He then proceeds to tell me it was actually 5. So I press 5 and I swear to the gods above, if I had been drinking something when I saw the price I would have done a spit take. ￥13,400 ($119.97 USD). I shake my head and stutter ‘’That...that can’t be right. Are you sure it’s 5???’’ trying not to let the immense amount of panic I am now feeling rise up and take control. Jacob checked again and it was, indeed, number 5. I did the quick mental math and, while I’m no genius, I should only owe ￥2400. ￥600 a day X 4 days = ￥2400. I certainly shouldn’t owe as much as the tiny green machine was telling me I did. So Jacob and I decide to divide and conquer. We check every sign and piece of paper once, twice, three times in search of ANY kind of information that could be in red to highlight it’s more important than the rest. When none are to be found, we both agree it’s a good idea to call the help number and neither one of us are surprised when no one on the other end speaks English. In the worst and most rudimentary broken Japanese Jacob tries to explain the situation while also asking if there is anything that can be done. We have no idea why it’s so much and are begging to understand. After 20 minutes of this, the man on the other end of the line just keeps repeating one phrase which we later figure out loosely translates to ‘’Your loss.’’  Not satisfied with that answer, I decide to call my friend, and Prefectural Advisor, Leah. She’s parked in these types of lots before so I knew she would be familiar with them. After explaining the situation, I send her a photo of the largest sign at the front of the lot. 30 second later she informs me that in small writing underneath the daily fee it states ‘’If here for more than 48 hours, the charge will be ￥600 every 20 minutes.’’ I’m not exaggerating when I say that I literally dry heaved. For a little over 2 days my car had been charged almost $6 every 20 minutes until it reached a whopping $120. Tears spring to my eyes as I hang up the phone and tell Jacob the news. I’m going to have to pay all of it to get my car out... 

The best part about all of this is that the machine only takes ￥1,000 or roughly 10 dollar bills and coins. Neither Jacob nor I have that much money on us in the bills needed. Gritting my teeth I march toward the nearest convenience store to use their ATM while Jacob walks to his bank across the street. As I furiously punch buttons on the ATM, I silently curse Japan. I curse the language that I cannot speak, the words I cannot read, the culture I cannot understand. I curse  myself for thinking I had it all figured out without a moment’s hesitation at the thought that maybe ￥600 a day was a little too good to be true. I mean, where in America do you find that type of price without some kind of catch??? I snatch the money from the machine and stalk back outside, down the street and back to the parking meter. A few moments later Jacob is next to me helping feed bills into the slot. With about ￥8,000 left we run out of ￥1,000 bills. I’m so mad I almost punch the machine. At this point it’s raining and I’m honestly wondering if things can get any worse. Jacob tells me it’s going to be ok and runs off to get more ￥1,000 notes. I stand there fuming and jamming what little amount of coins I have in my wallet into the meter until Jacob come back, sweaty and out of breath, with more money clutched in one hand and a 鯛焼き taiyaki (a fish shaped pastry with any number of fillings inside (but mine was chocolate)) held in the other. He smiles and hands me the 鯛焼き before putting the final 1,000 yens into the machine. (There are many reasons why I love that man but the fact that even in the face of what seems like an impossible situation, he still thinks to bring me a sweet treat is definitely near the top.)

We get into the car and quietly share the 鯛焼き while I try not to pout on the way to COSTCO. Having to pay that much money was absolutely awful no question, but the worst part about the entire ordeal was not being able to explain the situation to the help desk worker over the phone. It was the immense feeling of utter helplessness that frustrated me the most. And it’s not just this one isolated situation either. That feeling of helplessness is ever present and all consuming. The things I took for granted while living in America, such as being able to schedule my own appointments, go to have my tires and oil changed, mail a gosh dern letter, are all MONUMENTAL accomplishments over here. Jacob and I talk about this all the time. It’s the one thing we wish people would understand more when it comes to asking about our lives over here. EVERYTHING. IS. SO. FREAKING. DIFFICULT. No, we can’t just ‘‘call the help number and speak to someone about our issue’‘. No we can’t just ‘‘walk into a health clinic and request to be seen.’‘ Hell, we can’t even check the labels on the dang food at the grocery store because it’s much more than just a simple task. It’s mentally preparing yourself to translate, reorder the words and be able to communicate your problem or question correctly. It’s hoping and praying the person you’re speaking to doesn’t use complicated words or phrases you are’t used to hearing that often. (Spoiler alert: They ALWAYS do.) It’s trying your best to meet them halfway and falling embarrassingly short every. single. time. It’s terrifying and frustrating and upsetting. You feel like a child who can’t do the most basic of tasks for themselves and it’s humiliating. You truly have to put your pride aside and swallow that bitterest of pills in order to just...survive. 

I’ll step down off my soapbox now and say that I guess the biggest thing I’d want someone reading this post to take away from it, is this: Be kind to those people who are not from your home country. Be kind to the immigrants and the visitors who are there either trying to make a living or just simply enjoying themselves but who may not be able to speak your country’s mother tongue. They’re doing the best they can. Be patient. Be helpful. Be courteous. As a woman living and working in a country not her own, the smallest of kindnesses can make a world of difference. Japan may be one trial by fire after the next, but I refuse to crack under the pressure. 

 がんばっります。(I will do my best.)

じゃあまた (See you!)

- レイチェル (Rachel)

Oh hey!! Just like at the end of a Marvel movie, here’s a post credits scene consisting of photos showcasing my mom and sister’s time in Japan!!

On their way into 東大寺 Todaiji Temple in 奈良 Nara the deer city.

Elizabeth greatly enjoyed the 鹿 shika (deer). This photo was taken not long after one bit her in the butt because she wasn’t feeding it cookies fast enough. 

My American and Japanese family met for the first time. It was magical. Please ignore Japanese Christoph Waltz in the left hand side of this photo.

One of my favorite places in 奈良 Nara, 春日大社 Kasuga-taisha (the stone lantern temple) is full of beautiful bronze and stone lanterns surrounded by lush, green foliage. 

If you can’t tell by my enormous grin, I was beyond excited to have these gorgeous people all together in the same place.  

[meg2md]

[If you don’t want to read an angry, self-pitying rant just skip it. Also I don’t want advice. It’s cathartic to yell on the internet]

Anyway I had 80% of my meniscus removed, am doing physical therapy twice a week with a copay of $35 ($280/month). No weight bearing at least until my post-op on the 18th, and I’ve already been on crutches for almost 3 weeks. In fact, it will be 3 weeks on Saturday. I need rides everywhere, I can’t clean my room or do my laundry by myself. I can’t even fill up my water and take it to my bed stand. My knee hurts randomly, I still don’t have full ROM, I have to do physical therapy exercises 4-6 times per day but I don’t have time now that I’m back on campus with all our mandatory labs, ultrasounds, dissections, peer teachings, exams, and clinical skills. There’s never a good time to blow your meniscus, but when you’re 27 and in your neuro block, that’s objectively the worst time. At least in MSK we didn’t have so much mandatory cramp. If I miss >2 weeks of mandatory events, I have to make things up over the summer. Like the whole block. Which I am 5 weeks into (out of 12) and it’s hell, so no thank you. Also I don’t want it to interfere with the research I’m doing, especially because I need it to be competitive to do residency where I want.

I think I’m eligible for a meniscal transplant. From what the PT, PA, and technician said, unless something drastic happens we can talk about doing it. The orthopod seems gung-ho about it. It’s a rare surgery, and has a 49% success rate at 10 years. That puts me at 37 when it fails. I’m just trying to buy time so I don’t have to get a total knee arthroplasty in my early 40s. Without my medial meniscus I’m looking at 15x more pressure with weight bearing. My physical therapist said it’s much better to have a medial than a lateral meniscectomy, at least. The medial compartment is apparently better at distributing shock. Still 1500% more shock than with a normal meniscus, but whatever. Apparently the recovery from the meniscus transplant is rough. I haven’t looked too much into it yet because the last time I was on the internet I got infinitely depressed. My PT told me that they usually save these surgeries for young people who have their meniscus removed, because the long-term effects are catastrophic. And while he was talking about adolescent boys, I’m also only 27. Let me repeat: ONLY 27. And I love weight bearing activities. I’m active as fuck. I lost 50 lbs being active and have kept it off for like 5+ years by being active. Telling me I can’t play tennis, can’t run unless I’m willing to say FUCK YOU to my knee cartilage is honestly like killing a part of me. I think I am actually going through the grieving process. I told peter before they took me into surgery and the night before that them taking out my meniscus was my worst fear. I expected it wouldn’t be repaired, but I thought hey, they’ll leave 50% at least, right? I woke up at it was 80. I cried all weekend from the time the drugs wore off until I just got fucking mad. I accidentally went to the same-day surgery floor today on my way to PT and the last time I was there i still had my meniscus. Nice. It made me feel like shit to stand there.

Classes are fine. My grades are fine. Still sitting around average, which is where I want to be. I just have so much work to make up from the week I was out, and then we just have a bunch of busy work anyway. I have shadowing reflections and SOAP notes and IHI coursework and a QI project to do all before spring break in a week. And next week itself is hell because I’m making up two labs and doing two labs (which are long and hard and have quizzes) Monday and Tuesday. I have LPCC Wednesday which eats up my afternoon, but guess what, the practical over ALL the labs we’ve done (like 12), 3 dissections, and 2 prosections is on Thursday. AND I’M ON CRUTCHES. The literally the day after we have our biweekly exam. WTF? And I’m supposed to be doing all my busy work while studying for all this shit and making up work ON CRUTCHES.

And I made a counseling appointment but it’s during spring break, so all my friends will be living it up in New Orleans and guess who cant fucking go now. This fucking blows. I have never gone out with friends for spring break, and I helped make all the plans, and I was SO SO SO SO SO EXCITED, and now it’s just all SHIT because of my knee. And I have to FUCKING UBER to my counseling appointment because my roommate is busy and everyone else I know will be out of town!!!! Amazing!!!! And my dad has to drive 3 hrs to pick me up and drive 3 hrs back. This is pathetic and frustrating and I’m so mad.

And I keep fucking FALLING!!!! When I’m at school for so long having to stand and sit in chairs (BOTH OF WHICH ARE UNCOMFORTABLE AND CAUSE ME PAIN) I get tired and am more likely to put unintentional pressure on my bad leg. And my apartment has stairs I need to go down and I fucking tripped and landed with ALL my weight on my effectively medial-meniscus-free leg. CLASSIC. AWESOME. 

I have to study in my bed because chairs and the couch are uncomfortable and I have to keep my leg extended. It’s hell on my back. My neck hurts, my back hurts. It’s hard to focus when you hurt. I’m tired and I’m sick of this. I know people have it worse than me. I don’t care. This sucks so bad. I went through a pretty bad bout of depression and now I’m just MAD. I’m mad at everyone. I want to lash out at the people I love. Incredible. Amazing. Wow.

Literally every time I say things can’t get worse, they do. That’s how I landed with this $35 co-pay, and then later turned the wrong burner on when I was trying to cook and burned my plastic bowl. Honestly, that’s how what I thought was a minor meniscus tear turned into a bucket-handle tear that flipped under my femoral condyle and got ground into fucking mush

I don’t want to give up but I want a fucking break 

Also it’s already April and I have nowhere to live next year 

lit