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killervibe · 5 years ago

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Cold Sub Zero Heart Breaker (By Your Own Design)

So, of course, I had this giant big Valentine’s Day fic planned for killervibe that did not go the way I had wanted it to. So here’s my last-minute new fic to fill in for the months of planning I wasted. Oops.

Killervibe fic for Killervibe Valentine’s 2020!

I highly recommend listening to Frozen Heart by The Hawk in Paris. The fic title comes from its lyrics!

Rated: M

Summary: Halfway through his Korean fried chicken, Cisco licked the sauce off his thumb and acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“...Did you get….heartbroken?”

Frost scowled. “No.”

~.~

“Hey.” Cisco dropped a bag of food in Frost’s lap. “Got you something.”

She stared down at it, stunned. “I didn’t order anything.”

“I know.” Cisco shrugged, dragging a chair over.

He pulled out the takeout carton from his own bag, and the two ate silently together, their legs propped up on each other’s seat.

Halfway through his Korean fried chicken, Cisco licked the sauce off his thumb and acknowledged the elephant in the room. “...Did you get….heartbroken?”

Frost scowled. “No.”

Cisco blinked, taken aback. “—No?”

It seemed like it. Cisco wasn’t around Central City last Valentine’s Day, but he had heard the story from the rest. Frost was all over the holiday, dressed up in reds and cutting out paper hearts with crazy glue. He rose his eyebrows at Barry when he'd explained it all, not exactly able to say he’d seen that coming.

Today he’d gotten to witness it with his own eyes. Frost had begged Caitlin for the day, wearing red nail polish and handing out snarky valentines to their friends in Star Labs, humming The Beatles.

Or at least, she was.

In a quick turnaround, Frost had lashed out, tearing down the decorations and audibly gagging at Barry and Iris’ lovey-dovey cuteness.

Ralph tried to approach her a little over an hour ago, only to quickly retreat, telling Cisco her mood was beyond sour.

She had mellowed out after their meta fight, seemingly needing to have gotten her hands dirty, but refused to even talk or hear about anything to do with love. Now she was quiet, sitting at Caitlin’s chair in the Cortex. Sad, almost. It was a new look for her. Cisco had thought something must’ve happened.

“...Are you sure?”

Grant it, Cisco wouldn’t have a clue who Frost would be heartbroken over.

She threw her used napkin behind her.

“You missed the trash,” Cisco pointed out.

“So?”

Cisco swallowed. He had to choose his battles.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Fine!” She stood up, already ready to rant. Cisco’s eyes widened, not expecting to be given a front-row seat to a Frost lament. “I’m at Jitters, and they’re doing this 30% strawberry syrup special for all of their drinks. I order the Killer Frost with it—”

“Of course you do.”

“—And as I’m mixing it evenly into the drink, it hits me. It freakin’ hits me!”

Cisco leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “What does?”

“I have no business participating in this heteronormative commercialized holiday bullshit! Screw February 14th! It’s a sham! Hot garbage!” Her hands misted at her sides. She paced the room. “You know what—Oh my god.” She stopped abruptly, as Cisco tried his best to follow along. “Here I am trying to live a life. Like, I’m fricken’ trying, right? Caity says I’m doing okay but I’d give myself a D on a report card.”

“Oh come on,” Cisco interrupted. “That’s not fair.”

“It is,” she snapped. “Because I realized the most—Ugh, stupid Debbie.”

“Wait.” Cisco frowned. “...Ralph’s mom?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes and threw an ice dagger at the wall. Cisco watched with growing concern, his plastic fork still hanging from his mouth as she closed her eyes and exhaled. She breathed, and the frost receded back into her palms.

“I’m chill,” she said.

“You good?” Cisco squeaked.

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine. It’s cool.”

“...Okay.” Cisco smiled at her, a little uncertain. “I’m glad I could help.” He looked down at the rest of his meal and popped the second to the last piece into his mouth. He glanced back at her, noticing the sudden silence on her part, and immediately stopped chewing.

Frost was looking at him. Like, right at him. Intimate eye contact. No break.

Cisco squirmed under her intense scrutiny. “What are you staring at?” There was still chicken in his mouth.

“Let’s have sex.”

Cisco almost choked. He heaved as chicken skin scraped down the wrong tube of his throat, banging his arm against the table as he scrambled for water. “—Why?”

“I want life experiences. Sex is usually an important part of life—”

“—Not for everyone!” he gasped out.

“And I’m trying to have some life experiences and Caity seems to like you so I don’t think she’d be too mad.” She paused, checking him out. “You’re not bad to look at either.”

Cisco has forgotten how to breathe, frozen still like a deer in the headlights.

Frost hesitated for the first time since bringing it up, her confident tone cracking. She wrung her hands, biting her lip. “Also, like. You like me, right? I mean you tolerate me, so.”

“Of course I like you,” he said automatically, a touch incredulous, and it came out softer than the volume in which he was thinking. His brain rebooted. Or maybe his heart. Something integral to his body reacted in defence mode whenever Caitlin had the slightest doubt of his love for her. Frost included. But this was a whole other level, holy frack. Cisco was going to have a heart attack. Like seriously. Those were heart palpitations.

He got up stiffly, excusing himself.

He breached to a quiet beach in Barbados, looked up at the blue sunny sky and screamed. A startled crab scurried away from the sand underneath his running shoes.

Cisco let out a breath, muttering to himself. “Okay. Okay. Okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay.”

He breached back into the hallway, flicking back the hair from his eyes and casually walked back in, only mildly sweaty. He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart thumping away.

“Heeeey,” he gave her a pathetic wave.

“‘Sup.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “So are we doing this or not?” She finally picked up her litter, stuffing it into her bra. “Look it doesn’t have to be you. I can ask Norvock. He’s my backup plan—“

“—Hell no!”

She seemed taken aback by his vehemence. “What?”

“You’re not allowed to ask anyone else, okay?” Cisco stepped closer.

“I’m not allowed?”

“Not Chester P. Runk. Not Norvock,” he spat out the name, mouth twisting in distaste. “Or that guy at the candy store you like from across the street.”

His fear was gone, the panic was over. Unexpected? Yes. Nerve-wracking? Oh, definitely. But he was so doing this.

Good lord, Cisco could feel the onset of a migraine at the thought of all the things that could go wrong if she said this to anybody else. What was Frost thinking? Snake eye? Ralph vouched for him last time he last appeared, but he remembered the way he leered at Caitlin in that bar. There’s no telling she’d be treated right.

If Frost wanted sex then by god Cisco was going to give her some good sex and she would not be getting it from any other means. Because Frost’s body was Caitlin’s body, and he could only guess Caitlin was taking a very deep nap to not be awake right now and intervene. So yeah. Screw that.

He jammed his finger at her, raising his voice. “If you’re going to be asking anyone for sex around here on Valentine’s Day, no less, it’s going to be me.”

Frost blinked down at his pokey finger for a moment, dumbfounded as Cisco seethed. She met his steely eyes, a pleased smirk pulling up at her lips. She had no idea how she managed to rile him up this way. She knew he was protective over her, but there was that and then there was this. Killer Frost may be a flirt, but she had no real experience with men. Even then, there was no denying this.

This was the exposure of Cisco’s layered jealousy over Caitlin or herself or both—who the fuck cared. It was amusing.

“So that’s a yes.”

“Yes, that’s a yes,” he shot back. He rolled back his shoulders. “I’ll see you at 8.”

Frost licked her lips. Somehow, Cisco was only a breath away. Their eyes had yet to look at anything else than each other. “Make that 9. I watch Wheel of Fortune.”

“Fine!”

❄️❤️❄️

It’s nine on the dot and Cisco had brought a basket of anything and everything romantic he could get his hands on. Roses, candles, chocolates, strawberries, condoms, wine, his Bluetooth speaker, bubbles, lingerie, breath mints, a mini radiator. Everything.

Frost pawned through the basket and took out the bubbles. “Why?”

Cisco yanked them out of her grasp, stuffing it back into the basket. “Forget those.”

She pulled out the thong. “Was this Kamilla’s?”

“No.”

She shrugged and ripped into the heart candy as he struck a match, setting down flickering flames around the room.

She watched as he scattered the roses around Caitlin’s bed. “Is this necessary?”

Cisco blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Do you want the Valentine’s Day experience or not?”

Frost didn’t really have a response to that. After a good amount of setting up the scene to look straight out of a Netflix romance, Cisco queued up a playlist and appraised his work.

“Dim the lights,” Frost said. The candles wouldn’t have much effect otherwise. Cisco did, and it became dark but for the glowing candlelight.

Frost removed her sweatshirt over her head and waited expectantly for Cisco to strip.

He took off his shoes and toyed at the button of his cardigan.

Frost climbed over to where he sat gingerly on the bed, unbuttoning the rest of it when his hands failed to continue. She removed the clothing from down his shoulders, and he shivered when her skin moved over his bare arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. It was gentler than he was used to hearing her talk. “How are we starting this?”

Cisco gave her a look. “I’m going to kiss you. We’ll start from there.”

Frost laid down, her silver hair flattening against her pillow as she stared up at the ceiling. “Okay.”

Cisco hooked a leg over her, still maintaining a considerable amount of space between them.

He thought it would be best to ease into it. Some touching, first. It was hard to just jump right in. It was weird how receptive Frost was being. Cisco’s mind floated away, thinking back to this afternoon. What did she mean exactly, when she had said he was not bad to look at. Did she like him, this entire time? It was...Weird. To think about.

Was that what this was? Frost has had her moments. She’s blunt, sarcastic, cold-blooded by nature. But she’s not unfeeling, either. There’s always been something about her motivations that had struck Cisco odd. She thought of things most people didn’t. She followed her gut and didn’t seem too scared to die. Not like the rest of them, at least. But even that was untrue. She was the flightiest of them all, the most explosive and unpredictable. And what was that from, if not from the unrest of her own self? It made Cisco wonder. And what the hell happened with Debbie? Should he even ask?

Frost’s eyes popped open. “If you're just going to hover over me like that can you at least change the playlist?”

Cisco frowned, interrupted from his internal monologue. “Do you not like Michael Bublé?”

She twitched her nose. “Not really.”

He sighed and got up, changing the playlist to an R&B track suggested by Spotify’s romance playlist. “Better?”

“I guess.”

They resumed their positions, Cisco taking the time to drink her in. There were so many ways she resembled Caitlin. Especially with her eyes closed. Caitlin would never wear the bold blue lipstick, but her face was all the same. Kind, soft. Gentle. Beautiful. He thumbed the side of her cheek, lost in reflection, running his finger over her lip. Frost stilled under his touch.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured, leaning in.

He stopped millimetres from her mouth just as memories of Earth 2 suddenly bombarded his brain. He had prepared himself up to this moment the best he could that he’d be sleeping with Frost. But somehow it had slipped his mind that this was the same woman who could kill with a kiss.

“What?” she mumbled at his stalling.

“Frost…”

“What?”

“Have you ever kissed someone before?”

Her silence was concerning.

He pulled back, alarmed.

She sat up. “Once.” She winced. “When I tried to kill Barry. You threw me off of him.”

To quote John Mulaney, now they didn't have time to unpack all that.

“So you’re saying you cannot say with confidence this won’t kill me.”

“I won’t kill you,” she said. But she was lacking the confidence. Frost swore lightly. “This is ridiculous.” She grabbed his arm and pressed his wrist to her lips. Her mouth was cool, wet. But there was no ice in his veins. She raised an eyebrow as if to say see?

Cisco’s next words died on his tongue, eyes wide as she peppered kisses up to the crook of his elbow, almost aggressively.

He pulled his hand away and inspected it. Yeah, it was cold. The sensation tingled. But it wasn’t that bad.

“If it makes you feel better, you can avoid my mouth. We don’t need to kiss to have sex,” she said wryly. “I’m not a virgin.”

Cisco’s right eye twitched. “—Okay.” Compartmentalize. He frowned at himself. “Didn't you just say…?”

“It was never any good,” she muttered defensively. “Never with anyone who ever cared about me.”

Cisco softened, playing with her hair. He worried he was way over his head. “Then don’t you want to be kissed?”

Frost worried her lip, turning away. “I don’t know. Sure.” She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, trying to undress him. “If you think it’ll be good.”

“Wait,” Cisco said. Something about this was off. Really off.

“What?” she whined.

He studied her. She stared back like it was just another ordinary spat in the Cortex at Star Labs. Cisco sighed, changing his mind. Frost seemed to be wanting to get over the chatting and move onto the next step already.

“Fine, let’s do this,” he said, and unbuckled his belt, helping Frost out of her t-shirt. He offered to help with her jeans but she waved him off, yanking her skinny light wash by the ankles herself until she was only in her underwear. He rolled over, thinking that this might work out better if Frost felt more in control. She straddled his thighs and reached into her bra to remove the used napkin from their lunch.

Cisco made a face. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” He was lucky he could even manage the snark.

It was hard to keep his breathing even. He’d never seen this much of her before, obviously. Her pale skin, her stomach, her creamy thighs. Silvery hair cascading down her back in waves.

She was paler than he’d thought. Her eyes had lost the spooky glow they used to take some years ago, and her voice no longer went two-toned, something Cisco was somewhat thankful for. He couldn’t imagine hearing her words bounce and echo off these walls. It made him uncomfortable, back when Frost first appeared. The overlapping layer, like Caitlin was trapped inside when Frost took over, speaking over her louder, colder, with more command.

Now, Cisco closed his eyes and he heard her voice. She was saying something, but Cisco wasn’t listening, Reevena’s Still Dreaming floating in from his speaker in low pulses. Her hands roamed down his shoulders, and chest as she explored and his goosebumps unsheathed.

He lost himself in the first kiss and grabbed onto her hair. It was kind of better than he’d ever imagined. Caitlin sighed into his mouth, moving closer. Cisco tipped his head back against the backboard, cupping her neck as he drew her to him. Caitlin’s lips and her body and her skin and her perfume tickling his nose. It was better than he’d imagined. It was everything he’d secretly dreamed.

Caitlin.

“UNCLE!” Cisco cried, shimmying out from underneath her. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, but, uncle. Frost. I’m sorry. I can’t.” He reached for his shirt, hastily pulling it back over his head.

Frost ran a hand through her tangled hair. “...Why not?”

She didn’t seem hurt. Confused, maybe.

It was hard for Cisco to explain it because he hadn’t been able to articulate the thought himself properly until only a few seconds ago. But the truth was simple.

He couldn’t do this.

“Look,” Cisco stared at the duvet cover. Ralph Lauren sheets, high thread count. On discount from the last Cyber Monday sale. He knew that because he was beside her when she added it to her cart on the website.

“Dreamy,” he had said with a tease. “You’ll sleep well.” She had laughed at the time. “I think we’re kidding ourselves thinking we’d be getting any actual sleep nowadays.”

This was Caitlin’s bed. Caitlin’s room. Caitlin’s apartment. And he knew Frost was a part of Caitlin. But, when it came to this? It didn’t matter —His heart panged. Frost deserved to be looked at when he said this. “I’ve imagined doing this before. More than once...The rose petals, the music. Valentine’s Day…”

Frost shot out a candle from her fingertips, listening.

“With Caitlin.”

“You do realize we’re basically two sides of the same person.”

“To you, maybe.” Cisco gave her a small, stiff smile. “Except you’re not. Not to me.”

He grabbed her hand. “I love you, Frost. I do. But it’s because I loved her first.” He searched her eyes. “And I have to know. I really need to know.” He bent down and scooped Frost’s red sweater from off the floor, tugging it over her head, mussing her hair. It stuck out all staticy, and Frost glared at his insistence of returning her to a modest state of dress. “Because you seem unsure of this yourself. What do you get out of this? Do you want me? And you never told me for sure, if Caitlin is okay with this. Like really okay with this.”

“She would’ve stopped me by now if she weren’t.”

Cisco tried not to think too hard about that. “And what about you?”

Frost didn’t reply.

“Because I can’t just do this,” he continued. “Have sex with you. If it’s not with her. And I can’t call it making love to you if it’s because you have no better option. This wouldn’t just be some holiday romp for me. And I don’t want you going elsewhere for this. But I think you’ll have to if it’s what you really want.” There was no more saliva in his mouth, but he said his piece.“Just please don’t tell me about it.”

She bunched the covers around her waist, covering her bare legs as she retrieved his basket. She broke into the wine, pouring out a glass silently and handed it to him over the messy sheets. He took the drink silently. Taking a careful sip. It was like she could tell he needed the drink.

“I think you're right,” she confessed after a long time. "It’s not what I really want."

“Oh?”

“I like the idea of Valentine’s Day.” She heaved a big sigh. “I like the concept of having this one great person, that means the world to you. But I like it for other people. It works for them.” Her shoulders drooped. “And I thought—maybe if I threw myself into it...I’d get it. Barry and Iris, Sue and Ralph. Joe and Cecile. There’s just you. And me….” She tilted her head, considering. “Norvock?”

“Please don’t bring Snake Eye into this bedroom.” It was almost a growl.

Frost snorted at the green in his eyes.

“Stop worrying about him. Really there’s just you. And it’s you because—Because it’s what Caitlin feels. And I can feel Caitlin. So I thought maybe...If I tried it, too…”

“Frost.” Cisco squeezed her hand. “It’s okay to not be interested in sex or romance. It’s okay if that’s just not you.”

She sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it is.”

“That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

"Okay."

Reevena crooned on.

Frost began to giggle.

He frowned at her, worried. Insulted? “Um.”

She covered her mouth, turning away to muffle her laughter into the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I just— I don’t know what I was thinking. Sex!? Making love!? With you?! Oh my god.” She sobered immediately at the look on his face. “I’m sorry, there’s a reason why I’m laughing. I’m not trying to be mean.”

He smiled at her awkwardly, he wasn’t sure why his heart was breaking. “I promise it’s alright.”

“No, because. I was feeling something. And I was acting on it. But it’s not my attraction.” She met his curious gaze and lowered the wine glass from his lips, putting it on the bedside table so that he’d have her whole attention. “It’s hers.”

Cisco’s mouth parted, but nothing came out. His face felt horrendously warm, and he could tell by Frost’s amusement that he was mad red. “Can I speak to her?”

“Yeah,” she said breezily, pausing for what Cisco could only guess is to talk it over with Caitlin telepathically or however. “I think I’ll be absent for every Valentine’s Day from now on.”

Before he could get another word out, Caitlin was blinking at him. Cisco wanted to very kindly melt into her floorboards. “Uhhhh….Hi.”

She stretched, digging her fingertips into the soft sheets, looking particularly unbothered for finding Cisco cozied up in her bed.

“Hi.” She tucked her brown hair behind her ear, eyeing the rose petals and bubble machine.

He knew it looked bad, but he had to excuse himself before this could continue.

The warm salt air of Barbados greeted him once again. He stood in his haphazardly thrown on cardigan and boxers in front of the stretch of the Caribbean Sea. Cisco assumed the crabs did not take his scream any better than the first time, but it was too dark to tell. The seagulls, however, were displeased, shrieking right back at him.

He breached back into her room, kicking at the overkill rose petals, and shutting down the bubble machine once and for all. “Sorry about that.” His voice was hoarse.

“Wow,” Caitlin said with a growing smile, glossing over his little disappearing act altogether. Maybe she could tell how desperately he needed it. “You did a number in here.”

It took a moment for Cisco to realize. “You were awake this entire time, weren’t you?”

“You’re crazy to think I’d have let this actually happen.”

He climbed back onto the bed, and Caitlin moved to make room. It was already so much better, easier. To be half-dressed and making a fool out of himself. As long as it was with her.

“Why?” He stretched back to lean against the pillows. He was aiming for sexy, but he’d take anything above cute. He winked at her. “Want me for yourself?”

Her eyes raked down his body appreciatively. It was slower, more deliberate than Frost had ever done. “Yes.”

Oh.

“If that’s okay,” she added. A bit shyer.

Cisco couldn’t speak. Except he had to. He had so many questions. And the way she was smiling triumphantly at him should be illegal. She held his face in her hands, smoothing out his gobsmacked expression until he smiled at her, helpless but to melt under her touch. The effect, she had. It was dangerous. So dangerous.

“Why?” he said again, his mouth working in contradiction to his brain, that had all but given up on asking. He turned his cheek into her palm.

Caitlin sighed and let him go. “I couldn’t just tell Frost. I had to let her come to her conclusions. And I trusted you. She trusted you. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go down either.” She blushed for the first time that evening, looking away. “And to stop and explain meant I’d have to tell you why she was so confused.”

She meant that she’d been suppressing her feelings for him so hard it leaked. What a fact. Cisco forced his brain to assemble back enough to think properly, setting that tidbit aside for later. “...Is Frost going to be okay?”

Caitlin nodded. “More than. She’s relieved, I think. And glad she discovered this with you. I’ve always suspected she was asexual. With her impulse control, she would’ve gone after someone by now if it weren’t the case.”

"What would've happened, then?"

Caitlin was slow in answer. "I guess we would have had to talk about it. I'm not sure."

“What happened with Debbie?” Cisco couldn't help but ask.

Caitlin made a clueless face, shrugging her shoulders. “Hey,” she said, tapping at his knee. “We can talk about Frost at some other time. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

The music and wine glasses and candles still scattered around had yet to serve as nothing else but a constant reminder to them. “That it is.” Cisco smiled at her. “I actually got you a card.”

“Forget the card,” Caitlin surprised him.

She scooted forward, dragging him upright to drape her arms around him in a hug. But it was intimate and warm, his heart beating against the thick material of Frost’s sweater. Caitlin tangled her hand into his hair, much like he had done with Frost, raking her fingernails gently along his scalp. He tried his best not to get drunk off it.

“Tell me what you told Frost,” she whispered against his neck.

There was a lot of incriminating stuff he’d said. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

She snuck her hands underneath his sweater, tugging it back over his head. He was sure by now he looked like a wreck.

“Mhm.” She was busy kissing his collar bone. It seemed they wouldn’t be leaving the bed anytime soon. Cisco was pretty okay with that. “Something about loving someone first.”

He laughed, flushed. “Oh, that.”

"Yes, that."

“I love you, Caitlin,” Cisco told her.

She stilled in his arms. Cisco drew back so he could see her face.

“I love you. Caitlin.”

It must’ve been different—Hearing it now compared to when she was under. Because she held her breath, and curled her fingers into his sweater, pressing herself against his chest. He lowered them back down slowly. Caitlin was practically on top of him, soaking him in. The weight was nice. He could get used to this.

“How opposed would you be to making good use of your little sex kit?”

“It’s not a sex kit!” he blurted out with a gasp, scandalized.

Caitlin laughed. Loud and freely, wonderful. Cisco would make a thousand sex kits just to hear the sound again.

“Not opposed,” he promised and made good on it. “Not opposed at all.”

❄️❤️❄️

“Say it again,” he whispered in the morning.

“I love you.”

It was Caitlin’s voice, and her words and it was her lips he kissed thereafter. It was Caitlin’s breath that stuttered against his mouth and Caitlin’s lace bra that Frost had borrowed that ended up on the floor. It was Caitlin’s eyes, watching him adoringly and it was her smile that lit him up. It was her cheek, with pillow lines and it was her laugh he got out of her time and again.

#killervibe #the flash #killervibe valentine 20 #killervibe valentines #tkv fic #holiday fic #comedy and fluff

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mittensmorgul · 6 years ago

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3.08. A Very Supernatural Christmas.

Yes, the origin story of the Samulet delivered through flashbacks to a terrible Winchester childhood Christmas, where John had broken his promise and abandoned the boys for the holiday with not even a couple of gifts. The anguish of Dean trying to protect Sam from like... everything about the reality of their lives-- from John being unreliable and breaking promises, and yet still expecting Dean to do exactly as told AND protect Sam AND prevent Sam from learning the truth of their lives, to taking care of Sam and having to scramble to provide some sort of a holiday, to having to be the one to actually tell Sam about the supernatural... yiiiikes...

I mean, let's start with the easiest bit. Sam is excited for the holiday and went out of his way to ask Bobby to help him get a gift for John. Who knows how long Sam had been lugging that amulet around with him, keeping it secret so it could be a surprise. All the while, he hadn't even bought a gift for Dean. I mean, Dean hadn't bought a gift for him, either, because I mean he was what... maybe a month shy of turning 13? And struggling to make sure they didn't run out of food before John came back, keeping up his own morale while already knowing about the monsters and what John does on hunts (remember, this is the age where Dean made his first sawed off shotgun, and we know he'd at least been out hunting with John in some capacity by this point, as well as being entirely aware of the reality of the supernatural) so that Sam wouldn't freak out. Which he kinda did a little bit once Dean finally broke down and admitted the truth to him. I mean, is it any wonder why Dean hyped up John as a "superhero" for Sam, when he was terrified wondering what would happen to them if John didn't come back... and what would happen if the monsters came after THEM. He told Dean he knew why he slept with a gun under his pillow (and remember DEAN IS TWELVE YEARS OLD HERE). So... doing his best to shield eight-year-old Sam in every possible way he can.

Which is... kinda what Dean is still doing as an adult, knowing how hard it will be for Sam when he eventually does get dragged to Hell, and doing what he can to prepare Sam for it while also trying to recapture so much of their lost childhoods through things as silly as celebrating Christmas. At least they've both got the means to get gifts for each other, even if it is just a couple of skin magazines and candy bars from the corner gas station. This is a case of it being truly the thought that counts.

But little Sam was tired of being lied to, wanting to know the truth, and got hold of John's journal, and read it... then questioning Dean (as Dean continued to deny it), before providing the journal like evidence in court (aw Sam always had the lawyer in him, didn't he). So of course Dean's left to do his best thing-- sell the best version of the Terrible Thing that he can muster up. There's a reason he's so good a thinking on his feet, you know?

So despite Dean (a 12-year-old kid) knowing all too well the dangers involved in hunting (how many times has he had to patch John up after a hunt went wrong, do you think? or at least seen John injured after hunts. I mean, how often have we seen Sam and Dean injured on hunts? Probably at least that often, since John typically hunted alone with no backup), and likely feeling terrified himself that one of these times John might drop them off and go hunting and not actually come back to get them again (and heck, how many times had John been a few days late with no word leaving Dean to cover for that while Dean panicked twice as hard as Sam did wondering if this was that time and he'd suddenly be left alone forever having to raise Sam on his own), he needed to sell the version of truth to Sam that kept the peace as much as possible-- John's a superhero! Monsters can't get him, because he's the best! Because Dean probably spent most of his life trying to convince HIMSELF of this fact, just to be able to get through the days when John left him in charge and didn't show up when he promised... (which canon leads us to believe happened often)

I know this isn't particularly relevant to the end of s14, but heck it hurts us precious, and every time I watch this episode, no mater what other meta point I might specifically be looking for, I lose it and go total ragemonster on Dean's behalf here, because nothing about any of this was fair, and it goes to shape so much of not only Dean's self-identity throughout the rest of the entire series, but Sam's reactions to Dean via this "performance" that Dean has learned to put on even by the time he was twelve years old (and obviously earlier than this, but yiiiikes). This is the same sort of performance that we've seen Dean use on Jack in 14.16, which Sam called him out on, wanting to tell Jack the truth about why they didn't want to bring him hunting with them. Dean pulled this "oh yeah, big important stuff for you to do here, too!" routine while trying to dodge all around the fact they didn't want to put Jack in a position where he'd feel compelled to use his powers, and that they were concerned about the obvious changes in him since he got his powers back. It was all too easy for Dean to fall into that performance rather than address the great big elephant in the room. And this is where that performance was born.

#spn 3.08 #s14 hellatus rewatch #spiders georg of the tnt loop #i came one click from deleting this because i thought i'd already posted it like four hours ago whoopsie...#sorry about this one but this episode always makes me so dang mad on dean's behalf #winchester family dynamics #performing dean #spn 14.16 #sam sympathizes and dean empathizes

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lavenderhyrdrangea · 6 years ago

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Game plan

Wally barely had his foot in the hero bizz, but he knew getting an official suit was the equivalent of getting a license or at least a permit. Like a license or permit, the suit would come after a test. With the way Uncle B trained him, he figured he’d might as well start thinking of a code name. After all, Speedy was already taken.

“Sorry about the early rising, Kid. Especially on the weekend but I rather you get used to it now—Heroing is an around the clock gig with no pay,” His uncle said, soft rays of sunlight slowly chasing away the shadows on the side of his face.

“Is that part of the test? The rest will be pretty easy then!”

Uncle B laughed, “You wish.” His hands on his lips, he surveyed the landscape.

It was the most cliche cityscape Wally had ever seen. Yeah, there were nice, long roads, windy roads, and bumpy ones(thanks to pot holes and the city taking its sweet time to get around to them.) There were side walks, street lamps, and apartment complexes and businesses that just seemed too close to one another. This definitely was a normal city until the hill street thing they were standing on came into play. The high standing street took a sharp dip within a few footsteps or an inch of car. It wasn’t European stair steep but whoever designed it had to be related to Evel Knievel somehow. The adrenaline junkie wasn’t done either. Once you rode the flat street surface, it would climb up again. It was mostly smooth sailing after that but God, everyone hated this little stretch of road. They even called it, DMV Street in spite of it being part of Pearson Avenue. You go in mildly ticked then it was just down hill from there.

Heh.

Downhill.

Wally supposed you be would rewarded with the sight of Central River once you made it to the bridge but with ferries offering cheap prices for a ride it didn’t seem worth it. Plus, the river was never as pristine as one would hope. Wait a while and you’d see and hear the trash skimmer boat going by.

“I brought you here to test out your coordination in a real life environment. Anybody can train in a lab or on a treadmill but out in the field? That’s the hard part.”

“Coordination?” Wally looked down at the street and couldn’t help but think of all it’s imminent frustrations.

“Yeah. I was thinking I could make it a little more fun by making it a race. With how early it is there’s shouldn’t be that many people up and out. But there’s just enough people for it to be challenge. Plus, we’re near Star Labs so if anything makes it to the news most people will suspect it’s them.”

“Race!?”

“A little nervous?”

“You wish.”

Uncle B tried to ruffle his hair but was met with the ugly black cowl of his training suit. “Gotta get use to that.”

“I hope not,” Wally whined.

“We’re running all the way to Grocer street. You make it there and you won’t ever have to wear that thing again.”

“Simple enough.” Wally gained resolve. “I’m so getting that suit.”

“Excitement. That’s what I like to see. I put a tracker in that suit. If you run into any problems—literally or otherwise—I’ve got Jay near by with a tracking device. He’ll zip right to you.”

“You might as well tell Jay to put his feet up. I’ll clear this test on the first try.”

They decided they would each have a part in counting down to the race. They chose the ready-set one. It sounded better off the tongue and got him pumped more.

As always, he and Uncle B started off slow which he hated, it felt like he was running through quick sand but as he picked up speed he glided. Obviously, he couldn't glide as fast as his Uncle. Wally at least thought he could stay neck and neck until the next hump but there he was staring at his blurry back, trying to will his feet to take him faster.

They zoomed through the next hump with ease(aka without Wally tripping due to him having to adjust his speed to the incline.) Uncle B was still ahead of him. How could he be a blur? He trained with him so why wasn’t he that fast?

Dang it, Uncle B. Run into something.

And of course as he thought that he narrowly missed running someone’s car door off of it’s hinges. He felt someone’s arm wrap around his shoulders then a subsequent yank and a rush, whooshing him backwards.

“You got to be a little more careful than that, Kid.” Jay said, smiling as they stood back at the very top of the first hump.

“I know. I know,” Was all he could offer.

He spent the next few weeks of the test bombing it. So much for it being easy. On his second run, Uncle B manged to get so far ahead that he’d gotten lost. The questions about that one were the worst. Explaining how he got lost even though he knew where the race was supposed to end was a whole new level of embarrassing. He just got so deep into the whole catching up thing, that he couldn't pull himself out of it long enough to really grasp his surroundings.

His third run was just dumb. Who delivered oranges that early in the morning? Er, well, aside from produce truck drivers. Alright, who would drop oranges so they could roll on the ground? Well, he would if he were a produce truck driver. It was probably Uncle B’s gush of wind that knocked the oranges over in the first place. Either way it didn’t help him at all. Maneuvering around the oranges was like trying to learn how to roller skate all over again. The very next week, he ran into this fruit frenzy yet again. This time around he bolted ahead to try to catch the fruit before it fell but maybe his grip was weak or he got a little ahead himself with all the excitement because he ended up tripping himself up. They were just in his arms and he fumbled them. He was also pretty sure the fruit produce man thought one of his orange crates vanished into thin air.

His fifth run was the closest he got to ever finishing the test. He’d made it all the way to the bridge with Central river flowing underneath. The problem this time around was the opposite of the problem he had during his second run. He stayed focused on his surroundings and his own footwork. Too focused. Now, he really didn’t know how it happened but Uncle B was gone. Again. Did he expect him to run on water? Cool as it was they hadn’t gone over that and it had been ages since he practiced his backstroke.

Later on in the evening, his mom made a dinner of chicken Alfredo with peanut butter cookies for dessert and invited Uncle B and Aunt Iris over. His father was eager to talk with Uncle B about the test. Wally’s speed had been just as much a bonding experience for these two as it had been for him, his uncle and his aunt. Before then they had little in common. It wasn’t on purpose, both tried, but ended up being awkward elephants. One thing that they did have in common was that they were both fairly hands on people in their respective fields.

“So,” his mom lifted a forkful of rolled up noodles to her mouth,” did things go better today, Wally?”

It was well meaning but he wished she didn’t ask right in the middle of dinner.

All eyes were on him.

He leaned back from his plate. “Uh, it was alright.”

“Alright?” She pressed.

“Okay, slight correction. The first half was alright. The second half...” He trailed off and thought of how he could talk about the whole thing without making his parents freak out on Uncle B. It didn’t matter that neither one of them were speedsters and thus couldn’t honestly give their two cents on the finer details of his training. They were going to do it anyway. And with their input Uncle B would be babying him in no time.

“With how you talk about your powers, I thought you’d take to this like a fish to water,” His father said.

Being the awesome hero that he was, Uncle B dashed in, “It took me a while to figure out coordination when I first started out. I was running on nerves and awkwardness.

“Awkwardness? You?”

Aunt Iris almost choked on her food, she laughed so hard. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said to Uncle B who was narrowing his eyes by then, “but you’ve told me stories about how odd you were before everything. I’d still love you but you weren’t always Mr. Hotshot.”

“I’d argue he’s still odd now,” His mom added.

“So you’re tag teaming me now?”

His father slid in “Well...”

“Et tu, Brute?” He looked at Wally. “Looks like it’s just me and you, Kid.”

Dinner ended on a lighter note, and with his mom insisting that Uncle B and Aunt Iris take a boat load of leftovers home. His mom got use to the appetite of two speedsters like it was nothing. It wouldn’t have surprise him if it turned she enjoyed it as some sort of hobby.

His dad told him to help them carry the trays to the car. Powers or not he still had to have manners.

He was putting the last tray in the trunk when Aunt Iris tried to drop some knowledge. “I think what your Uncle was trying to say earlier is that even with meta powers there’s still a trial and error phase when trying to get better at something. And don’t forget the main focus of a test shouldn’t just be the grade. Every X you see there is to help you. If they weren’t there you wouldn’t know what you need to work on.”

“Yeah, and what if I flunk the whole paper?”

“Still helpful,” She singsonged.

“Great. I’ll tell that to my English teacher the next time time I get an F on my essay.”

Aunt Iris glazed over his quip in exchange for one last word of advice. “And, remember don’t compare your work to others’ too much. It’s good when you want to better yourself but sometimes it’s bad for the esteem when done obsessively. I can’ tell you how many times I’ve beat myself up over the fact that another reporter released a story quicker than me only to realize my work was suffering because of my fixation with their work.”

Uncle B suggested a break from the test for just a little while. No doubt a result of Aunt Iris doing her news reporter read on him the last few seconds before they left. She probably made him look pathetic to Uncle B. Like he needed anymore of that.

His father didn’t really like all the extra time he had since he was soft benched, so he thought it was best he got his blood going. His dad suggested that they play baseball. He was little of iffy about that. His dad was really obsessive when it came to baseball. The thought of his past little league seasons made him cringe. But he suggested gathering up the neighborhood kids and playing football instead and Wally wasn’t doing to do that. So they settled on playing catch with the baseball.

“That’s a shame,” His fathered lamented. “Football’s a great game. I’m supposed to be teaching you everything I know. Taking you to games. Cheering you on from the bleachers. I feel like I’ve missed out you know?”

“It’s just that I don’t like to be tackled.” Or dealing his father’s weird sports lust.

“You’re going to get tackled chasing after the Flash aren’t you?”

Wally stayed quiet.

“I know people don’t think it’s something that requires a lot of brain work but anyone who says that never looked beyond the news articles they find on the internet talking about rowdy fans trashing their home towns after their team lost. It’s a game of wits. You need a game plan if you plan on winning, “Zeal overtook him. “What’s the quickest way to advance down the field? Which defensive player is the one you should keep an eye on? What tactic or strategy is better suited for all the players on your team? What plays into their strengths? It’s much more than tossing a ball back and forth. Take you for instance. You’re fast now, right? You’d make a mean running back—A tail back to be precise. You’d be able to rush the ball to the end zone no problem.”

“I can’t use my powers like that, dad. That’s cheating.”

“Oh, fine. Steal all my fun. Focus on the strategy, boy.”

“Alright, alright. You said that you start off with a plan. What if it seems like the plan isn’t working?”

“What you’re talking about is a quarterback. Possibly one of the most important members of the team. They reiterate all the coaches plays to the team in a way they all understand and they have to have quick thinking too. They can change a play at the scrimmage line if it looks like the play they’re going with won’t work out well.”

“And how do they know a play won’t work?”

“Something’s usually off with the defensive line. Look at it this way. Strategy or the game play is all about understanding yourself, your team and your opponents.”

“Mind games.”

“Yup.” His dad said proudly.

The cogs in Wally’s head whirred. “Do you think that that works on things outside of football?��

“I don’t see why not.”

He told his father to hold off on the catch and that he needed to study. The man was miserable. He probably planned to spend the whole day with him.

“Uh, dad?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. Remind me that I owe you a game one of these days.”

With that, Wally went to craft a game play of his own. Instead of begging Uncle B to start that test again, he asked Jay to take him to DMV Street and to watch him run. With every problem he ran into, he and Jay would take note of them and analyze why they thought he was having such a problem with it. Jay was much better at it than he was because he could go beyond just a practical understanding of his problems. He didn’t only focus on implementing more jumps to avoid danger but he zeroed in on why Wally was so hesitant when it came to jumping. They found out that it was, duh, because he was nervous. There was a layer underneath that as well that for once Jay couldn't get to since he claimed Wally wouldn’t budge. Whatever that meant. It was starting to seem like his problems had problems.

Eventually he felt ready enough for the test again. Like the last few times, Uncle B took them to DMV Street early in the morning.

“Sure you’re ready?” He asked.

“Born ready.”

“Alright. Why don’t you start off the countdown?”

“Ready,” Wally said.

“Set,” Uncle B supplied.

“Go!” They said in unison.

The test started the same way it had since the beginning—slow and steady then fast. He kept close to his Uncle’s heels for a few seconds. He even ribbed him.

“That suit is mine.”

After the second hump he ended up falling back. This freaked him out at first but he knew he had to stay on it. He had to think and be aware of everything yet not to the point of hyper focusing.

He could tell how long it had been since his Uncle passed by the way his surroundings reacted. A skirt that billowed too harshly was a good marker. A crate of oranges spilling over was an even better one. The oranges rolled all over the street and adrenaline made his heart pound as he vaulted over them. He weaved in and out of the way of the people and things that threw themselves onto his path: The blockheads who must’ve wanted to live the rest of their lives without a car door and the plastic bags and pamphlets that use to smack him in the face and temporarily blind him. Man! At times he had to deal with his own two feet.

He tried to suppress the overwhelming relief that resonated in all parts of his body when he made it to Central bridge.

Something in the back mind chanted, “thisisitthisisitthisisitthisisit!”

Again, Uncle B was just gone. He steeled himself. His uncle unlike, most teachers, wouldn’t test him on things they’ve never gone over before.

The horn of the trash skimmer boat blared.

Yes.

He waited until it made its way from under the bridge to the other side. Determined, he leaped over the railing and into the boat’s dustcart.

Uncle B was waiting there on top of a pile of trash with his arms behind his head and a grin.

“Wait til they dock then it’s back to hitting the pavement to Grocer street for us.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, a little dazed.

Uncle B ruffled his hair—or better yet the cowl of his ugly training suit—and said, “You’re pretty cool, Kid.”

He grew dizzy with joy.

A/n: I really liked working on this one! Writing Wally was actually a lot of fun. His parents were slightly difficult to grasp since I had to teeter between the lines of...good and bad I guess? In the comics, Wally’s parents are depicted as no good but they’re never depicted as out and out abusive. They loved their boy. It was just at times they ended up screwing other people over in process of loving him. His mother was always depicted as the lesser of the two “evils”.

#My writing #My writing.#DC comics #Wally West #Barry Allen #Storge #Philautia #Yeah I used a Sonic level to come up with DMV Street #What of it?

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katherine-rambles · 7 years ago

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good birthday! busy, but good! ty everybody for coming!!! ✨💖✨

this is a ridiculously long post, and it keeps getting longer. so, everything’s under the cut

on the day itself, in the morning, i went to petsmart because we found fleas on one of the dogs last night, so i (as the only one in town with money or a credit card) had to go spend almost all of my money between flea meds and flea shampoo. i was NOT expecting to spend ~400 bucks this week on doctor shit and flea shit. but i gotta, so... :/ and probably more in the future! gghuhugh

then i came home and did some more computer cleaning & organizing. i have... so much of that to do........

then @lordsoth42 came over! and we went to the mall and pizza schmizza (they got some, i got NOTHING because CURSE my stomach) and then got donuts.

then we went back to my place and people started showin’ up fer my low-key party! @onilinkplus, @angrymamabear, @soycoffeewithcoffee, danny (i don’t think he’s got a bloggo here, but he’s got a twitch over at... um... kazstein), thank you all so much for comin’ and hanging out! and bringing food and gifts and stuff!

we got to play ARMS, 12 orbits, a lil’ bit of Once Upon A Time, Sumer (interesting platformer/boardgame mix), watch kody play Snake Pass, and see the demo of Octopath Traveller thanks to Danny having the energy to play it (which, by the way, that looks Goddamn Gorgeous!)

then sleepover w/ tristan because Wow Eugene Is Far Away, Six Hours Of Driving In One Day Is No Fun! but also more time with tristan!

on the 25th i woke up super early again thanks to Stomach Hates Me Syndrome and i got to cleaning up, which was nice. i still have some more to do but i figure i may as well do that after everything is over this weekend. but i did get like. all the plates and shit put away so there’s tablespace again.

some lowkey hangouts with tristan before they went home and I went to hang out with @jirajara at the woodburn outlet mall to find shoes for her... i did fairly good in not spending money, by which i mean i was very thankful she & her crew paid fer my lunch, and i avoided spending money on trinkets and shoes and this one FUCKING BEAUTIFUL pleather light pink jacket.... anyway it was fun, if tiring. i forget how tiring Looking For A Good [insert specific item here] can be when you’re not doing it over like... years... on the internet.....

then today i got to go to an actual SPA with super swanky everything and have a MASSAGE for the first time ever w @becna n’ @keketar. the wet sauna is not an experience i’d pay to repeat but the dry sauna & hot tubs? good stuff. burn my skin off. and the massage was really great! my masseuse was really fun to talk to and we just talked about all sorts of stuff and the back & head parts of the massage i could definitely see being useful in a headache/chiropractic sense in the future.

sarah got me a Gay Flag Colored Lovebird bag......;;;; i love it.......;;;;;; 😍💖✨💯🐦

an’ then sarah n’ i went to my place and had a low key Craft Party wherein we tried to get each other hooked on anime we haven’t been able to talk to anyone about: me w/ revolutionary girl utena and sarah w/ voltron:legendary defenders. what I learned is, I love pidge and am totally down for this mystical bullshit AI tiger mech thing. my headcanon so far (probably easily proven wrong, i’m on like episode five) is that a lot of the “mystical” connection is [a.] propaganda (what better propaganda than DESTINY?) and [b.] a result of a networked/distributed intelligence not unlike the geth from mass effect.

but also early utena episodes are so lighthearted! i always focus on the later stuff and forget how... innocent it seems at first. additionally, paying extra special attention to chuchu and anthy after reading a bunch of meta is a fucking TREAT like? episode four with the lil’ elephant doodle?? anthy!! an’ nanami is great also, and just how EXTRA all these highschoolers are.... my poor children....

i also learned/recalled that needlefelting... is a lot... of work...... i’m basically going to have to reskin my needlefelt mew entirely to make it look decent again. it does look REALLY nice again once i do that, but s’just gonna be a lot of work. (maybe this time i won’t like... have it on my bed and in high-use areas. there was so much pilling, oh my god.)

oh! and sarah’s being so nice and letting me share her netflix! and merlot’s gift was adding me to her fam for the nintendo subscription service!! this is a good year for me & freeloading media, i guess :P (but srs, thank yooou both!)

anyway now i have a lot to clean up, and work tomorrow. hopefully i’ll be able to vacuum once i get home: we NEED a big vacuuming. ‘specially since the doggo parasite circus is in town...

and birthday celebrations are extended because i’ll see becca on monday and there may or may not be a present involved there, but there sure as heck will be cute lizards, and really, what else could a girl ask for?

then it’s tuesday and the.... ct.... and man why is medicine so expensive

but. overall.

i’m so glad to have my vivacity, my motivation, my drive and passion back. last year on my birthday i hadn’t planned anything really and it just happened to be a nice coincidink that sarah was headin’ down to eugene for a concert anyway. when i’m under like 70% planning things, hosting things, going to things is just... so... too.... much.... but when i’m 100% (mentally, at least, lmao i hate my stomach right now) it’s one of my FAVORITE things to do. people!!! friends!!!!! happy making!! i just feel... very satisfied and content in a way i haven’t been able to access in a while. s’a shame that my stomach has decided to stage a civil war on my esophagus, but... it’s discomfort, something i have to live with, not a drain of my life that i’m living. ya feel me?

like, FUCK! this linked post was my birthday two years ago. it wasn’t weird because ANYTHING except depression! depression fucked me up! i didn’t spend it doing things i love with people i love because i couldn’t DO love!

the b-day before that was good but lowkey because i couldn’t plan much, and it was surrounded by me just being.... tired... which was depression shit

and i think... the b-day before that was before i’d gotten depressed? i think late 2014-2015 was my first Major Episode... but i’m not sure because i started this blog sept. 2014. i do distinctly remember my internal grade-o-meter being off as like... an early sign of my troubles.

this ended up so long haha

i’m so grateful that all y’all awesome friends of mine (both who i mention here because i saw them this past few days and those who are not mentioned) stuck with me despite the Depression Fog. y’all deserve the best and i’m honored y’all let me into your lives.

i’m so happy i have so many projects i’m jazzed to work on, even though the work is sloggish and boring i can DO IT and BE HAPPY that i’m doing it?!? it’s been so long since i could do that

lately i feel like a little kid who cries because they learned that those cool snakes have to eat those sweet little mice. everything is so new and fresh and lovely again.... like rediscovering your first favorite teddy bear or something in the closet. just a persistent strong warmth

i’m so lucky 💖

#text #present #happy #philosophy #curiosity #media #gratitude #lordsoth42 #becna #keketar #jirajara #onilinkplus #angrymamabear #soycoffeewithcoffee #kazstein #vld #rgu

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zenovyap · 6 years ago

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Flew to Subang last weekend for C’s wedding, which was held in The Saujana Resort. The plan was to take the chance to unwind by having an extended weekend.

Firefly In…

We flew in to Subang via Firefly FY3125, which was flown on a 72-seater propeller plane. It was the 2nd time I flew on a turbo-prop, though nothing compared to my virgin turbo-prop experience from Kathmandu to Pokhara!

Since the plane was small, we flew rather close to the ground (the pilot said 25,000 feet), so the landscape could be viewed for the whole journey, only if the sun wasn’t that glaring! And due to aircraft limitations, the trip took about half an hour longer than if we were to fly on a jet plane, at 1h20m.

As a budget shuttle, we didn’t expect much from the service, which was why it was a surprise when we were offered a choice of peanuts or Curry Puff F.O.C. Curry Puff! In contrast, SQ only serves drinks for Economy passengers and MH served peanuts only.

Subang Airport (it has a longer name, in honour of some royal, that I could not remember) was an airport so small, we cleared immigration about 10 minutes after touching down. If one has no check-in luggage, he could have been out of the airport in 15!

The Saujana Resort

The Saujana Resort is a sprawling complex just next to Subang Airport. 4 accommodation blocks lined one side of a lake, overlooking the golf course on the other side.

Each 4-storey block houses a category of rooms which were arranges around a square courtyard. We stayed in an Executive Deluxe room, which was far from the main reception, but was quieter in comparison.

The whole place felt more like a student hostel/chalet than a resort/hotel, so I was rather glad that our room was more towards the latter. Yes, we only had a tree view, the walls looked tired with its stains and cracks and the staff refused to give us more than 2 bottles of mineral water, but we had a couch, spacious room and bathroom. Not bad for a chalet-standard.

Breakfast was at its restaurant called Charcoal, which served decent food. My favourite was its Glutinous Rice in Lotus Leaf, which had more ingredients than what we would usually find in Singapore, with a little bit more greens! The best thing of course was that the place was never really full and crowded, even though it looked small and the resort was almost full over the weekend.

Another favourite item available was their Chicken Curry, which reminded me of my childhood haha! The Curry Chicken scene in Singapore has evolved to 2 types of Chicken Curry: one type is super sweet and coconut-y, and the other where the chef spams chilli till there’s no other layer of taste to the dish.

The Chicken Curry at Charcoal harked back to the old days where you could still taste the spices while enjoying the kick from the chilli. It was so nice I mixed it with the Japanese rice and Roti Prata just to savour the curry!

Service wise, the staff embodied the stereotype of “Malaysian service staff”. Waiting time to check in was long; the reception staff could not answer queries about their cake-store which was literally just steps away from the reception. Our classic encounter came from returning to our room after an afternoon out of the resort to find an extra bed in our room.

And we already turned on the “Do Not Disturb” sign!

Guess our parents’ advice to lock all our valuables when we’re not in our rooms rang real true in this instance!

We had one of our dinners at the in-house Italian restaurant, Senja.

The atmosphere and setting felt like a top-grade establishment, minus the heart-stopping price found in Singapore! I had Oven Baked Chicken Breast, while N had Grilled Chicken and the others shared at 1kg T-Bone Steak.

My chicken was great initially, as I liked how the skin was baked to a fragrant, even crisp. But as I dug on, I found that the chicken was too dry and tough and I gave up near the end. N said the same for his grilled chicken.

The others were raving about their steak, though and promptly cleaned up their plates even though I thought the serving was darn huge!

The joke of it all? Only 1 person ordered Rissoto, the only Italian food ordered for the night!

And so there was a little celebration for 3 of us November babies, though I it suddenly dawned on me I was The OLDEST among them…

The Wedding

The wedding dinner itself was held at one of the function rooms. It was a small, intimate affair, with about 20 tables for guests. Having eaten dozens of Singaporean wedding dinners, C’s wedding was both familiar and novel.

Familiar, because it was still a Straits Chinese wedding, so the 10-course meal featured regulars like steamed fish, cold platter and Asian desserts (like Tang Yuan (rice dumplings) in Soya Bean Milk and Salted Egg Buns). Novel, because of the slight twists in the food.

For example, their Salted Egg Buns were like Chilli Crab Buns with the filling of Tau Sar Pau (Green Bean Paste Bun), which was my first taste of such a fusion food! They also had Curry Chicken, Hong Kong style, meaning the chicken was pan fried to have crispy skin before being served in a bed of curry.

Even the cold platter was slightly different. Other than the familiar Salad Prawn and Ngor Hiang, there was this item that was a fusion of 活佛飘香Huo Fo Piao Xiang (Yam Ring) with 宫保鸡丁Gong Bao Ji Ding (Kong Pau Chicken Cubes). It was quite a good dish, though it was darn sinful! One of the items was also Glutinous Rice in Lotus Leaf (remember that dish I praised earlier this post on the breakfast experience?). This version was actually different from that served during breakfast! Yes, they didn’t just simply “copy and paste” their food items from breakfast to wedding dinner!

Malaysian wedding dinners are also more interactive; Singapore wedding dinners tend to be a one-way communication event, with the organisers pushing videos, march-in, cake cutting ceremony one after another. At C’s wedding, there were games and the emcee didn’t read from scripts that were shared and passed down from wedding dinners that took place 20 years ago.

Yes, it was less structured and at times lost me (but ermmm… I surfed IG even at Singapore wedding dinners), but the casual, DnD like atmosphere made up for a great time to catch up with folks.

Around Subang

The Saujana Resort is unlike Downtown East, the latter being a self-sufficient resort. We ended up Grabbing our ways to nearby shopping malls to shop and eat during our free times.

For example, we spent a lot of time at Centrepoint in Bandar Utama.

Alright, to be frank, we were there for massage at Healthland, which was just beside Centrepoint, but we roamed the shopping mall in between waits for the massage.

The non-airconditioned mall was like a typical Singaporean heartland mall, low-rise and had mostly offices and tuition centres. It also housed White Elephant, which some of us went to because Healthland was full.

The F&B options were a mix of franchise and local brands, but being the typical Singaporeans, we chose to have our first meal at Pappa Rich.

We were not disappointed, though. My Fried Rice came with Chicken Satay that was well-caramelised and tender to the bite. The rice was yummy, though it was a tad too oily at the end as the oil all settled at the bottom of the pile. My drink, Cendol with Red Beans was the most gratifying, albeit sinful, item I had! It was like the Southeast Asian milkshake, with the milkshake replaced with blended coconut drink and the bubbles of bubble tea replaced with red beans and cendol. Sedap!

What made the others happy was how cheap the meal was… Each of us only paid like SGD10 for what we would have paid SGD20 for in Singapore. Can we not be laughing at the end of our lunch??

N and I also spent a morning at Citta Mall, which was deceivingly 2 roads away from The Saujana Resort. Like Centrepoint, it was also a low-rise commercial development, but with bigger brands like Harvey Norman and Village Grocer. Needless to say, we shopped at those 2 places and went back with ermmm… At least 3 bags of stuff. Hurhur…

We wanted to sing KTV at Citta Mall, but the KTV was only open after 12, which conflicted with our schedules. We also had our lunch Marrybrown (my virgin experience!).

To be continued…

My weekend in Subang when I attended a friend's wedding. Flew to Subang last weekend for C's wedding, which was held in The Saujana Resort. The plan was to take the chance to unwind by having an extended weekend.

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spiderfan22 · 8 years ago

Text

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND FOUR - 1/23/17

“DUMPLINGS: A ONE-MAN PLAY FOR TWO CHARACTERS (CONTINUED AGAIN)” by DJS

Back for more. Please note the title change. And how completely off the deep end meta this play is becoming. Enjoy.

The audience enters the theater to find the stage set with a table and two chairs. The table should be long-ish, not square, and covered with a protective layer of white butcher paper. And the chairs should be upstage of the table, side by side, facing the audience.

Preshow music is fun 90’s pop, a playlist that must include “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer.

At rise Dan and Guest come onstage. They greet the audience, waving or giving small bows. A combination of both is fine, if warranted.

Then they sit.

DAN

Ok. So first off-

GUEST

First off?

DAN

Firstly?

GUEST

Can I stop you right there? Is there going to be a “secondly”? Or “second off”?

DAN

Yes. But chances are I won’t frame it that way. I don’t really have a bullet point sort of system…

GUEST

But you’re not flying by the seat of your pants, either.

DAN

No. No, / no.

GUEST

Ok. Good. So: first off.

DAN

First off, yes.

(to Guest)

Welcome!

GUEST

Oh!

DAN

Thanks for being here. For uh, joining me.

GUEST

Well, it’s a pleasure. I’ve never made dumplings before!

DAN

But I assume you’ve had them, eaten …

GUEST

You assume correctly – making neither an ass of you or me in the process. No, yes, I have partaken. Both at restaurants and frozen. From frozen I should say.

DAN

Cool.

GUEST

Very cool, yes, they were frozen.

DAN

I see what you did there…

GUEST

And no doubt appreciated it as much me.

DAN

(laughs)

So why don’t you ask how I came by this recipe?

GUEST

Right: “How, on God’s green earth, did you come by this magnificent dumpling recipe that you are now only moments from sharing with the likes of little ol’ me? Oh gosh, how did I ever get so lucky?”

DAN

Good of you to ask so un-prompted like that.

GUEST

I try.

DAN

You do try. You’re a good sport, Thank you. You’re a wonderful guinea pig for doing this. Thanks again for being here.

GUEST

Thank you again for having me. You’re welcome.

Beat.

DAN

This is weird isn’t? I mean, it’s a little strange, right?

GUEST

How come? Because our dialogue is scripted? And yet it’s made to seem – or we’re made to deliver it, perform uh – like we’re just making it up as we go along…?

DAN

Having a natural conversation, yes.

GUEST

Well, but I mean all drama’s scripted- TV, movies. Why should this be any-?

DAN

I don’t know…

Pause.

GUEST

Y’know what? I wouldn’t worry about it.

DAN

You wouldn’t?

GUEST

No, not too much.

DAN

But the suspension of disbelief thing…

GUEST

Oh, well, that’s easy enough to get over. We’ll just ask the audience –

(to audience)

Audience: please, we request your indulgence here tonight to suspend your disbelief at this play not being real? Our interactions, banter, etcetera, whatever we might do. That we’ve obviously rehearsed and… to make this appear, you know, for your benefit as much as ours, more life-like, when really it’s nothing but a fallacy. That we’re all “in on the joke” so to speak. What do you say? Can we get a round of applause consenting to the above?

Guest encourages the audience to applaud their consent. The audience hopefully obliges.

GUEST

There you go! See?!

(or, if they happen to not)

Oh, well, there you go. We’re on our own, it seems.

DAN

(regardless of outcome)

Okay…

GUEST

So where’d you get the recipe?

DAN

Blue Apron.

GUEST

The food delivery service?

DAN

Well, you know. “Food delivery”

GUEST

Why do you do that? Put food delivery in imaginary spoken suggested air-quotes?

DAN

Well, because Blue Apron doesn’t deliver fully-formed, fully-cooked meals to your door, even to just pop in your oven – you have to make them yourself. Like a whole process with a recipe, ingredients- actual cooking. It’s not like ordering a pizza.

GUEST

Or is it like ordering a pizza from Papa John’s? You bake it yourself.

DAN

Papa Murphy’s.

GUEST

Hmm?

DAN

Papa Murphy’s, you’re thinking of Papa Murphy’s. Murphy’s is Take and Bake. Papa John’s is just like a regular restaurant. Or, not like a restaurant - you can’t eat there, they don’t have seating - but for pick-up. To-go.

GUEST

Oh I see.

DAN

Not to get off on a tangent there…

GUEST

Really? You think this won’t be an evening full of delightfully kooky tangents /

DAN

Well… /

GUEST

and that that won’t end up being the whole point?

DAN

Well-

GUEST

I mean ‘cause let’s be honest here, if anyone was gonna be voted in high school Least Likely to Host His Own Cooking Show, that would be you. Your picture next to that dubious distinction. I mean with your history or lack thereof in the kitchen…?

DAN

Brutal honesty.

GUEST

I’s just calls ‘em likes I sees ‘em.

DAN

And now racist.

GUEST

How was that-?

DAN

I don’t know. It just sounded like you were doing an old-timey black voice.

GUEST

For your information that was my old-timey gangster.

DAN

Great, good - can we move on?

GUEST

Not without first – first off – acknowledging the glowing pink, like neon elephant in the room.

DAN

O-K.

(waits)

Which is what…?

GUEST

Which is- You don’t know how to cook.

DAN

Yes I do. I know how to cook-

GUEST

You don’t-

DAN

I do. I’m learning how to cook. That’s like the whole point of Blue Apron-

GUEST

I thought the whole point of Blue Apron was to take the work out of- you know, the shopping, prep, etc.-

DAN

Oh, you still do prep.

GUEST

Like cut up vegetables and-?

DAN

Yeah, they just send you the proper amounts of -

GUEST

Well that… kind of sucks doesn’t it? I’m thinking for like the single woman on the go, her mindset. Doesn’t that just make more work?

DAN

Yes and no. Is it as fast as a microwave dinner? No. Is it about the same time as ordering take-out from some place, pizza-?

GUEST

Yeah, but you don’t actually have to make the pizza, shred the cheese, chop up the peppers, mushrooms, olives-

DAN

Olives…nobody chops up olives, you buy pre-sliced in the can, or halved / or -

GUEST

Why?

DAN

Why, because it would just be inconvenient to-

GUEST

Aha! See! See! Thank you, you’ve just made my point for me. Why can’t Blue Apron like, I don’t know, dice up your onions for you? I mean some stuff must come already prepped, right? Like olives?

DAN

A few things / but-

GUEST

And you never wondered or wished or everything wasn’t that way? I mean if you ask me, I think they’re just trying to lower the cost of their overhead.

DAN

Probably, but-

GUEST

So why not pay a little more so you, the consumer, isn’t so burdened?

DAN

But it’s not a burden.

Guest looks at him skeptically.

DAN

It’s not, it’s really… because like I said the whole point… well, not the whole point – I mean there’s the convenience factor/ and-

GUEST

Even though you yourself said not a moment ago it was inconvenient.

DAN

(ignoring that)

And ALSO- also getting to try a bunch of foods you never, to widen your scope, uh, palate to… But a large part, no, to return to the, is you learn how to cook. For instance, you were lamenting the fact, laboring on the, that you had to prep all your own vegetables and stuff-

GUEST

Well, not the olives it seems but…

DAN

(again, not letting himself be distracted)

WELL you might be surprised to know I have actually gotten much faster at dicing onions, for instance, I have my own method, not probably how the real chefs / do it-

GUEST

Do you know that’s the second time you said “for instance” in the span of like a sentence? You just used it.

DAN

What do you want me to say? “For example,” then-

GUEST

But yeah, but, how many examples and for instances can you use before you just sound like you’re repeating yourself?

DAN

(staring at Guest)

Wow …

GUEST

What?

DAN

No. I just don’t know why you’re being so critical and attacking me all of a sudden.

GUEST

All of a sudden? You mean in the ten minutes we’ve been out here?

DAN

Regardless of, all this, of your hostility is coming out of nowhere.

GUEST

Hostility.

DAN

Yes.

Guest considers this. Then:

GUEST

Hey –

(claps hands)

- fun experiment! Do you wanna let folks in on a peek behind the curtain?

DAN

What are you talking about?

GUEST

You know, the writerly process and whatnot…

DAN

Seriously what are you-

GUEST

When you first typed “hostility” – back when you were first writing the script – you didn’t type “hostility” you typed…?

Pause.

DAN

I don’t… what?

GUEST

What?

DAN

I don’t remember.

GUEST

Yes you do. Come on.

DAN

“Come on…” What, did I misspell hostility or-?

GUEST

No, a completely different word.

Pause. Dan shrugs, either he doesn’t know or he’s pretending not to. Either way:

GUEST

Fine – play dumb. You originally typed HOSPITAL.

DAN

Hospital?

GUEST

Yeah, instead of hostility, hospital. As in “Paging Doctor Vega, Doctor Vega to the Emergency Room please”

DAN

Wait – who is… / DOCTOR VEGA?

GUEST

I can’t believe you’re pretending like you don’t remember.

DAN

I’m not. / I don’t.

GUEST

Yeah you do. / Yes you do.

DAN

Why? Why would I lie? About something as stupid / as-

GUEST

Uhhhhh to seem more smart, maybe? Or look less dumb.

DAN

How would I…

(pause)

Okay, first off –

GUEST

Here we go again.

DAN

FIRST OFF. It’s “smarter”. Not “more smart”.

GUEST

WOW. Getting into a semantics argument this early, huh? You really wanna do that, go that route?

DAN

Not really but you’re kind of forcing my hand-

GUEST

HEY YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU KNOW WHAT’S ALWAYS BUGGED ME?

DAN

Why are you yelling?

GUEST

You know what’s always bugged me? The little quirks of the English language. Like how you’re supposed to say SMARTER, not MORE SMART. But you don’t say –and this is just a for instance –

(Dan rolls his eyes)

FUN-ner. You say MORE FUN. I mean shoot, no wonder English is such a second language to people. It wouldn’t be my choice of a first.

Beat.

DAN

Can I continue with what I was saying now?

GUEST

Oh, by all means, do, let’s.

Beat.

DAN

How would I like dumb? Because I made a mistake? A perfectly reasonable just ordinary typed-one-word-when-I-meant-another–

GUEST

Exactly. Which is why you blowing it up into this whole thing and not just admitting to the teensiest of foibles-

DAN

Because I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t make a mistake!

Silence. A beat or two.

GUEST

Y’know…?

DAN

What?

GUEST

No, I was just gonna say: you know what’s so funny about overcompensation -?

DAN

Oh my god. / Please

GUEST

No, just- just hear me out-

DAN

Like I could stop you.

GUEST

Ha, yes.

(considers that, then)

You know what’s so funny about overcompensation? I mean when people overcompensate? And it’s not select to some people and others immune, I think we all do it from time to time, when it suits us. Just our buttons get pushed and-

DAN

Get to the, the thing, the crux of your… whatever.

GUEST

(defensive, even haughty)

I am! I will!

But instead, there is a long pause. Guest scratches their head, in bemused thought.

GUEST

Shit, you’re gonna hate me, but I lost my train of thought.

DAN

(deeply sarcastic)

Awesome.

GUEST

Sorry, not my intention, just I was chugging along there pretty good and then whoops, jumped the track - /

DAN

Right

GUEST

No survivors.

DAN

Okay

GUEST

Like that movie Titanic.

Short pause, as Dan stares at Guest.

GUEST

So but…

Wait, why are you staring at me like that?

(No response)

Ooooooo-kay. Creepy. But, what do you think you’re overcompensating for?

(Dan opens his mouth-)

And before you say anything, really think about it, I want you to really, like, plumb the depths of your… subconscious or, you know, I mean if that’s what’s coming into play here, blocking you from-

DAN

Is this… are you like my therapist now? Who says I’m blocked?

GUEST

I do. I say you’re blocked.

DAN

But blocked / how?

GUEST

And I would never agree to be your therapist.

(pause)

Just so we’re clear.

Beat.

DAN

Blocked how, though?

GUEST

How are you-? By just not even being able to see how getting so defensive about something that’s ultimately this trivial- like all I was doing was relaying an amusing anecdote, that’s it, that’s all-

DAN

But if I had made a mistake like that, - hostility instead of hospital- / I would

GUEST

Hospital instead of hostility, but.

DAN

Okay, now who’s getting hung up on semantics?

(No response, Guest waiting for him to continue.)

I would, I would admit it. If I had done it. But I didn’t so…

GUEST

Oh man. If this was only like the NFL. Then we could go to the gametape, review the play. Literally, ha. Then you would see.

DAN

No, I wouldn’t. Because I didn’t type hospital, I typed / hostility.

GUEST

(not quite yelling)

Splendid! You’ve convinced me! End of conversation! Shall we move on?

Long pause.

DAN

I’m sorry.

GUEST

You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who-

DAN

Yeah but you were right, I got defensive / and-

GUEST

And I just wouldn’t let it go.

(pause, sentimental, about to cry?)

Still best friends?

DAN

(small pause)

Are we…best/…?

GUEST

Fuck it. You know, let’s just move on.

DAN

Okay!

GUEST

Okay!

DAN

Okay.

GUEST

Alright, okay.

Awkward pause.

GUEST

Where were we?

DAN

I think you were asking me where I got the recipe from.

GUEST

Oh yeah Blue Apron wow okay. That was like way back on page four of the script. Huh. Hate to say I toldja so about the tangents, the going on tangents thing but…

DAN

I know, but I also wrote all this, I wrote in the tangents, so…

GUEST

Which quite possibly makes it even weirder.

DAN

It does, quite possibly, yes.

GUEST

And there’s no reason – sorry but – there’s no reason to get all high and mighty about, y’know, your position in relation to mine. Like you’re the creator of this whole thing, therefore you occupy this higher echelon of character within the, the narrative. I shouldn’t be made to feel, you know, belittled or… less than.

DAN

I’m… Ok, sorry. That’s not what I meant though, and if you felt that way.

GUEST

No, no, let’s just- we almost had it back on track, so let’s just go.

(false positivity)

Blue Apron?

DAN

What?

GUEST

I’m prompting you. This is kind of a do-over. Straight and to the point. No distractions, wild asides or tangents. Just good, clean – American - culinary fun.

DAN

(dubious)

Sounds… great.

Okay. Well…

We had started to / get-

GUEST

Hold on a minute. Who’s “we”?

DAN

…My wife and I.

GUEST

Oh, ok. Proceed.

DAN

We’d started to receive- or, I mean, we decided to try Blue Apron mostly because we had gotten in a food rut-

GUEST

Food rut?

DAN

Yeah, like eating the same dinner, same meals over and over again. And nothing imaginative either, just really like, really just gross food, y’know, nachos and sloppy joes, Manwich.

GUEST

You don’t like Sloppy Joes?

DAN

No, they’re fine, they’re… Just we- it was like we couldn’t.

GUEST

What?

DAN

WE, we couldn’t think of other stuff to make. And my wife-

GUEST

Shawna, you can say her name.

DAN

-Shawna yeah, Shawna is a great cook. Very intuitive. Very good at – you know, not just following a recipe but instinctively about / knowing what, while you’re in the process of,

GUEST

Sorry, what’s instinctive?

DAN

knowing what’s needed. What’s…instinctive? / What do you-

GUEST

Oh no, no, I get it now. She can think on her feet.

DAN

Right, like with spices, knowing what to add, what something needs / and-

GUEST

You’re not.

DAN

No. I mean I was surprised at how often they tell you to salt and pepper what you’re making. Like at every stage, “add salt and pepper,” the recipe is very…emphatic about that, you’re supposed / to-

GUEST

So they send you the recipe, the ingredients…

DAN

Yes.

GUEST

You get to pick or’s it just random the recipes they send you?

DAN

You get to pick. You go on the website and there’s usually six, four to six options so you don’t have to get anything you won’t – for instance-

Dan stops. Looks at Guest expecting them to say something, but Guest very graciously waves their hand like it’s not worth getting into. Dan proceeds.

DAN

For instance, Shawna’s allergic to lemon, uhhh, citrus, so we try to avoid recipes where that’s a big component. She also hates-HATES salmon in all its forms and configurations.

GUEST

Configurations…

DAN

Just go with me. So we obviously don’t order any salmon recipes.

GUEST

Do you like salmon?

DAN

Sure, but it’s not my favorite or anything.

And I veto stuff too. Like anything with couscous, or just bizarre vegetables I’ve never heard of.

GUEST

You don’t like to try new stuff?

DAN

It’s not… that. I try stuff. But I think we all have a, we all like certain things, are partial to, or not partial to. Foods. Food groups, uh-

GUEST

Can I run a list with you real quick?

DAN

A list of…?

GUEST

Of foods you will and will not eat, try.

DAN

Ohhh, okay.

GUEST

You just say yes or no.

DAN

GUEST

Couscous.

DAN

N- no. I already told you that-

GUEST

Fine, fine.

Just what’s your problem with couscous?

DAN

The texture, I think? I don’t know, we got it once and / I just didn’t-

GUEST

(eager to continue)

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. Um…

Bell peppers.

DAN

No.

GUEST

No?

DAN

Too spicy.

GUEST

But… bell peppers are like the LEAST SPICY of-

DAN

Then I just don’t like the taste. I don’t like the taste they add.

GUEST

Okay. Ummm.

Salmon-

DAN

We already-

GUEST

I know but other kinds of fish.

DAN

Yes.

GUEST

So like a blanket “all fish” on that one.

DAN

Yes.

GUEST

Interesting…

DAN

And I don’t mind a fish tasting like fish either, you know, having a fishy taste or smell?

GUEST

Sure.

Beets?

DAN

Eww. No.

GUEST

Fennel.

DAN

Um, I don’t really… have an opinion…

GUEST

Kale, then.

DAN

Uhhh. In small doses, sure.

GUEST

What’s a / small dose…?

DAN

Practically non-existent.

GUEST

Huh.

Interesting.

(Pause. Dan looks at Guest like “What?”)

You’re kind of a picky eater aren’t you?

DAN

/ No

GUEST

Not all the way picky, I mean you eat all the normal stuff frou-frou’ed up a bit, but not really / that adventurous.

DAN

SUSHI.

GUEST

(amused; knows where this is going)

What about it?

DAN

Sushi’s not adventurous? RAW FISH / is not -?

GUEST

I mean for your family maybe it’s exotic, for someone like your dad or your sister? But in the grand, you know, “scheme” of things…? Sushi’s not all that… because people like sushi.

(an afterthought)

Sushi is not a barometer.

Beat.

DAN

Well maybe, but that still doesn’t make me a picky eater.

GUEST

Then my impression was obviously wrong.

DAN

(slight pause)

I used to be.

GUEST

What?

DAN

More picky. Or selective. I didn’t even try coffee until I was almost thirty.

GUEST

What about in college? How did you stay up to write papers and stuff?

DAN

Oh, that’s easy. Masturbation.

Long, long beat. Guest is abashed.

GUEST

Excuse me? That’s kind of an admission, / don’t you think?

DAN

What?

GUEST

To just make, to just… reveal like that, in front of a paying audience no less.

DAN

Oh, c’mon, it’s not this big embarrassing… thing. It’s like that book, Everybody Poops. Well, Everybody Masturbates, too.

GUEST

And yet no one’s penned that bestseller yet. Just a matter of time I guess. You should write the foreword.

(Dan shrugs)

You’re not even blushing.

DAN

Should I be?

GUEST

It’s just not the sort of behavior I’d expect from you.

DAN

Well, I’m thirty-three.

GUEST

And age factors into this how…?

DAN

I’m getting older. Maybe I’m getting more honest too.

GUEST

(a trace of skepticism)

More honest?

DAN

Yeah. What?

GUEST

Oh no, it’s just…

(pause)

Hospital.

Not

Hostility. I just wondered / if I was talking to the same-

DAN

(exploding from his seat)

I DIDN’T TYPE HOSPITAL! I DIDN’T-

GUEST

Yes, yes, continue to deny, continue to … But I was there, I know. I KNOW. I know what you typed and the fact you can’t admit it just about drives me to drink.

(light bulb)

IN FACT!-

Guest abruptly exits into the wings.

Dan looks after them.

DAN

(to audience)

Where did they go?

(long pause)

I didn’t type hospital, I swear. I mean I wouldn’t go to war like this over something so… miniscule, nothing. They’re just trying to get to me for whatever reason. I mean it doesn’t make sense. This is supposed to be an evening of cooking and light chatter! No heavy topics! No introspection, self or otherwise! And no grilling the host! But they seem intent on prodding and, and needling me. Why? Just to provoke a reaction?

Guest re-enters, bottle of wine in hand, but hangs on the periphery, speaks directly to Dan, almost a challenge:

GUEST

Tell them about the hospital.

Dan stares like a deer in headlights. No response.

GUEST

(more insistent)

Talk to them about the hospital.

No response. Guest has to resist the urge to go and hit Dan. Takes a big swig from the bottle instead. Exits again.

DAN

(another beat, then to audience)

Okay, that was fucking weird, right? I mean, I know what they’re talking about but… I mean that has nothing to do with, with anything. It’s just a coincidence. It’s just a coincidence I typed hospital not hostility, and…

Dan trails off, realizing his admission. Looks at audience.

DAN

Ok, I did. I originally when I was writing the play typed HOSPITAL instead of HOSTILITY. There, okay? You CAUGHT me. I LIED, um…

(pause)

But it still doesn’t mean anything. I wasn’t thinking about the hospital- and yes, there is a hospital story, MY hospital story, of my time in the… and I’d be perfectly fine, you know, telling it, but the actual, like, crux of this piece, has nothing to do with, to do with… that. What happened. It Just Doesn’t. Okay?

Why they’re on me about it – I know I lied but…

Can we just focus on that a minute?

Guest walks back in, wine bottle in hand.

GUEST

Focus on what?

Guest sits. Pause.

DAN

Are you really drinking?

GUEST

Yes I’m REALLY DRINKING.

(as they take a big swig)

DAN

Ok. I guess I just wanted to know why you want me to talk about the hospital so bad.

GUEST

I don’t.

DAN

Now what kind of idiot response is that?

GUEST

YOUR idiot response. YOU wrote the play…

DAN

Could you please stop throwing that in my face?

GUEST

(baby-voice)

Ohhhhh. Is it such an insult? Ohhhhhh. I’m sowwweeeeee.

DAN

Stop it.

(Guest continues making pouty baby faces.)

C’mon, stop- stop it- STOP!!!

(Guest stops)

Look, do you want me to show you how to make dumplings or not?

GUEST

By all means.

(very poorly acted “stage” drunk)

By ANY MEANS NECESSARY.

Beat.

DAN

OK. Ignoring that…

I’ll be right back.

Dan starts for the wings.

GUEST

Where are you going?

DAN

To get the supplies. Ingredients, tools…

GUEST

Tools?

DAN

Spoons and forks.

GUEST

(dismissive)

Fine.

DAN

Is there a problem?

GUEST

Not in the slightest! Take your time! Go, go! Shoo.

Guest waves Dan off, who exits with an uncomprehending and slightly annoyed look. Beat. Guest turns their attention to the audience. A smile.

GUEST

(holding up bottle)

This isn’t real. There’s actually no wine in it…

(turns bottle over, not a drop spills out)

…and I bet I didn’t fool you either! I was never that good, could never really pull off stage drunk.

(They set the bottle aside. Pause.)

None of this is real. Just so you know. Well, I mean, obviously. You’re at a show, we’re playing make believe up here. But the conceit of the thing, right? Dan wrote himself AS A CHARACTER into his own play. PLAYED by an ACTOR – not himself. Which has gotta be its own like snake-swallowing-its-own tail challenge for an actor. Believe me, I do feel sorry for (insert first name of actor playing Dan), that can’t be easy. And when we were in rehearsal, the author watching you, watching YOU play THEM. That’s just like a cruel, like a sado-masochistic mindfuck. I mean inhabiting, or you know, realizing for an actor effectively a fictional character is hard enough. But a real person? And way more than even, like, some historical figure, like you were playing Abraham Lincoln or whomever, you know, there’s a remove there, some distance. But to ask someone to play YOU. Just a… I mean if there are any writers or inspiring out there – first, thank you for coming, keep pursuing your dreams, your craft, honing it, etcetera – but –

(shaking head)

Don’t do that. Keep it simple, huh? A bedroom farce or uhhh, courtroom drama! Audiences love those. Or you know who really had a good bead on the whole theater thing? Neil Simon. Nothing too complicated there!

(pause)

I bet he thinks he’s real clever. Especially coming up with me. “Guest”

(They do real air-quotes.)

Sort of an alter ego. Or not an alter ego, but like what’s that Shakespeare line about holding a mirror up to nature? Who said that – Hamlet? It was probably Hamlet. Hamlet got all the good lines. God I would love to play Hamlet.

(dramatically)

The melancholy prince!

Now there’s a role you could really sink your teeth into. “To be or not…” y’know?

Sound of something being dropped/crashing offstage. We hear Dan cursing:

DAN

(off)

Shit! Fuck…

Guest moves off into the wings. We hear their dialogue faintly:

GUEST

(off)

What happened? Can I help? Do you need / any-

DAN

(off)

It’s fine. I’ll clean it up. I don’t think I lost too much of the filling. Just what are you talking about out there?

GUEST

(off)

Nothing. Normal chit-chat. Inconsequential. Not complaining at all.

DAN

(off)

Well, get back out there. It’s gotta be boring. I’ll be out in a minute.

GUEST

(off)

Ok. Are you / sure?

DAN

(off)

Yeah, yeah, go. This is dead air! Or whatever the stage equivalent I don’t know is.

Guest returns. Small pause, maybe shrugs, lost.

GUEST

He’s got it, I guess.

#DUMPLINGS #meta as fuck #acting #playing a real person

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