#also. opened up my city folk case last night and my game was not in there. very upsetting and i have no idea where that went

[bonfirepoetry]

"And, uh, breaking news... Gun violence still rises, nothing but the same old, but... It's like a horror movie out there, in the night, where evil lurks in the blowing wind and... You may not see your offspring again. Be safe, folks... May we find a way out."

See, back in my city, people all are out luck, kinda the same way in that song from King Los

How the fuck you think that I am not gonna care when there's lots of things that just lead it down roads

From drugs to gun games, old folks in their style, old clothes and a baggage of old hope

The hood is all peace, until the point it's not, and the addicts run slow

Damn, shit getting crazy these days, dice rolls amaze me these days

With all the fuck that's going on

Somebody said they shot at popo and the popo left them lifeless and proned, damn

Man, I heard that if you go down thataway you'll find a faction bearing slangs

Bearing numbers that indicate on which side that you rep and check if you sustain

Working on a shift like that, make sure to keep your set in set, get respect and maintain

Cause, man, death gets kinda flirty

Walk the valley of its shadow and its vision's kinda blurry

It's like a dark cloud always over my town

And this shit also gets real when the sun's down, like

The sky turns night and the moon shines bright, and the kids gets out the way

When the cold port town fights towards no fall, the beast come out to play

Stay out of its way

It's not so bad until you wave white flags when all you are's ashes to fade

In case you cross that line, better pray for guidance and for fortitude

Stay out of its way

Been stressing on how each line can be my last one

Life, I lead a fast one / Mix my meds with alcohol until my head is running fast, gone

I light the weed to calibrate when I ain't that strong / I might need me to combat some

But I see it in my vision, all things to be reasoned / Resonate my sound, unleash the imprisoned

Version of me that retains keys to freedom / I've no enemies at all

Seen them as competitors, as a rapper added up that quote, this Kenny won't fall

Aim at me when you ball, you'll need a reason to prey on my downfall, I stand tall

Been one to decay, I have been, but I can't crawl / Show me your expression if it ain't awe

Baptize me in liquor, smoke me in weed on the day that my soul's back in mothership

I'm my very own sun, therefore, I don't really need your facade disguised as sponsorship

Jewelry, I've conquered it, it means more than just chains and go so beyond it

That even the wildest opponent to even tone at me like he's relevant would be frozen

Cause he wasn't in my skin dealing with my demons, my duality of being chosen, open

To discuss what the fuck's wrong with the world, you wonder who I am

Like witnessing the walk on Earth from a God that incarnated in a man

Goddamn, wish I wished more of that lately, cause this world's basic

It's like I need a Cinderella Man all over again, one punch, it knockouts the Matrix

Fuck it, take it to Hades, I'll go further than the last verse to transmute some hatred

Cause when sky turns night and the moon shines bright, and the kids get out the way

When I am out of my mind, where is it like Pixies, and the events go to frame

Don't get in my way

It's all so good cause you're misunderstood on which lane you and I are at

Dust to eat, I'll relax after I tip the hat to myself cause I ain't from this league

Don't get in my way

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGaDay2024

RPG with well supported campaigns

I’m not sure how to answer this. I’ve been playing for close to five decades. In that time I can think of exactly three pre-written campaigns I actually ran substantially. The first of these was a chunk of The Enemy Within campaign– mostly Shadows Over Bogenhafen and Death on the Reik (Power Behind the Throne crashed and burned quickly). But even with these I cut significantly, adapting it to our existing fantasy world and using Fantasy GURPS. So a partial version played second hand. 

Parts of it felt good, great even. But I never ran it such that it felt like a coherent and evolving campaign. 

The second was running a chunk of the Legend of the Five Rings City of Lies campaign set up. I used the handouts and NPCs, but even then we only partially touched on things. Even as a freeform, sandbox campaign, we only got a skeleton of the original. That game was also embedded in a different version of Rokugan and also used a different system (a hack of Storyteller). 

So really the only campaign I’ve legitimately and fully run from a campaign book is Fearful Symmetries. I think its pretty dynamite. I’ve read several other campaign books for GUMSHOE The Armitage Files, Bookhounds of London, Dreamhounds of Paris, and the Dracula Dossier. I used flavor from the last of those for my Night’s Black Agents campaign, but I really didn’t run a legit DD campaign. I enjoyed reading the first three– offering lots of interesting ideas for Trail of Cthulhu. In particular a lovely and variable open approach to setting up a campaign. 

But it was Fearful Symmetries which grabbed my attention and made me think I actually wanted to run it as a full campaign. It has evocative ideas, lovely folk horror themes, and pushed me to read and research a ton of things (not least of which was William Blake). There’s a great scenario kick off for the campaign, with a loose and adaptable arc. It then offers a ton of great ideas for how to move on to the following arcs. 

It’s a wonderful read and the pitch of magician occultists in 1930s England really resonates.  Think the beginning of Sandman. Every time I re-read the campaign book I find something new and interesting. I’ve run two arcs of a campaign using it and I honestly think it is some of my best work. 

If it has a flaw, that lies in the supplemental book for it. Like the other ToC campaign books I mentioned above, it has a player-facing document. In this case it is The Book of the New Jerusalem which is a collection of folk myths and history from across England. It’s a fun read. However it's too loosely connected to the main campaign book. 

Fearful Symmetries has a guide from improvisationally building mysteries based on the ideas presented therein. But it's very loose. I would have loved more connections made in the FS sections on creatures, folklore, the adventure arc, the guide to England, and even the Aethyrs to things presented in TBONJ– some cross referencing, some suggestions as to where to point the players. 

I would have also liked another section, a whole chapter looking at the Book of New Jerusalem with some ideas about themes, discussing connected details, giving more examples, and basically making it a much more usable and important element of play. As it was, it became an add-on we largely ignored because I couldn’t easily find pieces to make those connections. It think Steve Dempsey did an amazing job with Fearful Symmetries, but I can see where this supplement could have been more vital and exciting. 

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

I Shouldn't Leave My House

Once upon a last weekend, four island yahoos went to the mainland to spend two days with their mainland yahoo. The five yahoos planned to divert from their usual mainland adventure plan and explore new places, see new things, and make new happy memories.  

One new place was explored before everything went to shit.

It was the final activity planned for day one. We were headed to a board game cafe that we had reserved spots for after going for dinner. Whilst we have a board game cafe on the island, this one had fun snacks, drinks, and seemed worthwhile to try. What we didn’t realize was that it was located right by East Hastings. Now, I assume most cities have their own “tent city”, and that said cities should best be avoided. Well, we knew that too, but we didn’t notice just how close the board game cafe was to the street you should not walk down. Thus became a debacle of parking places. 

It was either a: an open dirt parking lot right next to the tent town, even featuring some folks selling random merchandise, or b. Option b offered a parking garage still near the area, enclosed but without as many eyes. Neither option looked good. Being in the open could deter folk from doing anything sketchy, lest they be spotted. Though, most people in the area were also sketchy folk and may not care regardless. The parkade seemed safer since there were walls and privacy, yet that would make it easier to carry out crimes without being seen. It didn’t feel like a winning choice. Some of us wanted the lot, some wanted the garage. We all kept going back and forth, weighing out pros and cons. Finally, we opted for the parkade. The feeling of dread stayed with me during the entire debate, parking the car, leaving our stuff, and heading to the cafe. I felt like I’d jinx us. By choosing the enclosed parking garage over the exposed lot, I felt that I doomed us into suffering despite our choice feeling safer. I was a ball of nerves, wondering if maybe something would happen just because we decided this was the better option. I am incredibly paranoid about jinxing things. I have a wooden phone case to knock on should I need to. I try to be careful with my optimism to avoid tempting the forces of jinx. I forgot to knock on my phone, but I also felt no optimism around our situation. I also forgot my feelings of doubt, dread, and fear once we settled into our destination. 

We had a reserved window of three hours. We played multiple games, ate snacks, and drank drinks. We played Guess Who with a twist where both teams would ask obscure questions instead of obvious ones. “Would your person have an affair?” “Would they stab their spouse?” “Do they partake in heavy drugs?” Honestly, it spices up the game way more and it’s hilarious to see how each team profiles the characters. It was a good evening, a strong end to a long day. Our spirits were high as we strolled out of the establishment, and we looked forward to loafing at our mainland yahoo’s house. 

To avoid taking up the entire sidewalk like some groups like to do, we walked back to the parkade in a pair and a trio. I was one of the pair and we were walking towards the opposite side of the car from the trio. That was why we only heard the gasp and why we were unsure of its cause. Except, I was only unsure for a second. Then I was in denial. I refused to believe that the thing I was internally shaking about actually happened. It was around eleven thirty at night. It was late, we were tired, and we were just going to go to rest. The day was over, we didn’t need anything big to happen, we didn’t want anything big to happen. When the two of us stood by the others and we saw the broken glass on the ground, the smashed window, I think the first thing I said was, “I jinxed it!” 

At first, we thought all of our bags were stolen. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what was lost. Medication, more medication, toiletries, clothes for tomorrow and for sleeping in, my backpack I bought at a thrift store and would never be able to replace. We were all numb and shocked, our voices only heard as we realized another lost item. After more of a search, we found that only two of the three bags were taken.

For ease, let me quickly create identities for each of us yahoos. We have the punk driver, the good good boy sharing his house with us, the pink one, the disabled part one, and me, the disabled part two. 

My backpack, the disabled one’s overnight duffle bag, and the punk driver’s backpack survived, as did an incredibly expensive camera we brought along. It was the bags of the good good boy and the pink one that were stolen. Probably the two most expensive of the bags. While the rest of us had darker packs, the other two were brighter, even through the tinted windows, one being pink and one being purple. I ended up crying, first, because I thought I lost all my things, then second, because I realized I hadn’t and was one of the lucky ones. 

As calls were made by the punk driver and good good boy, us remaining three stood like zombies. All the yelling we had partook in after the initial discovery of our tragic situation left us quiet and stunned. Not long ago I was ranting and blaming myself and choking up and crying, and now I was…empty. We were there for about an hour. No police came but a lone security guard rolled up and brought us plastic and tape to cover the smashed window. He didn’t need to tell us that we shouldn’t have left anything in the car, yet he did. The good good boy swept the glass out of the car and the punk driver put a blanket over the back seats just in case. As the wee hours crept closer, we five yahoos solemnly drove out of the fated parking garage and made the forty five-ish minute trip to the house we should have already been at. 

We couldn’t even get into the house without a problem because it turned out the disabled one was trapped by her seatbelt. Glass had jammed it in a way that the thing couldn’t unbuckle and she had to weasel out. By the time we got ready for bed, It was nearly two thirty in the morning. We wouldn’t be able to sleep in though since our day two activity was reserved in the late morning hours. We also noticed, after looking at the driving time to the place, that it too was located near East Hastings. The decision this time was to leave all our bags at the house before going. 

I could say our bad luck ended that night, but I’d be lying. Leaving our bags was smart, however it would force us to do a convoluted back and forth trip to pick them up before heading to the ferries. The cat cafe we went to was lovely, though it was hard to fully enjoy what with the losses of the night before haunting us. It also turns out that the good good boy was allergic to cats and he suffered through sneezing and itching and teary eyes the rest of that day. Also everyone was exhausted since nobody was able to get a proper sleep. While we had booked a reservation for the last ferry, assuming we’d want as much of the day to enjoy our trip, all of us just wanted to go home after completing all our planned activities. Of course, we couldn’t move up the reservation due to all the boats being super booked. Instead, we drove to the terminal early and parked there until an available boat came along. Conversation consisted mostly of lamenting the lost goods. The thousand dollar Steamdeck. The newly-bought-worn-once two hundred dollar jumpsuit. The Instax camera with photos of a summer vacation taken recently as well as three rolls of film. The pins from highschool on the purple backpack. We were draped with a sadness that couldn’t really be joked away or laughed off. 

The ferry of course was delayed, so despite managing to get one that should have been two hours earlier, it was really just an hour. At least we were headed home. 

Oh but the bad luck ensues. 

Fast forward to heading to drop off the pink one, we kind of sped through a stale yellow light. The punk driver thought she saw a ghost cop car behind us but no effort was made to stop us after going through the intersection. The car did follow, though. We decided that we were in the clear, they were just behind us because they were going in the same general direction. Until we were two minutes away from the pink one’s house. After joking about being pulled over and how stupid that would be, the car flashed its lights. As we pulled to the side, we realized that the disabled one wasn’t bucked as the seatbelt was still jammed. The middle seat had a working seatbelt, it was currently buckling in a giant bear plush we got at IKEA. I watched as my two friends fought to free the bear, the disabled one madly sliding in to take its place, and the cop approaching shortly after.  The only luck we had on that trip was the cop taking pity on us. After he asked if the punk driver knew she was speeding, to which she replied that she was because she just wanted to get home, he asked about the window. It would have been cruel for him to give her a ticket after learning that her car got broken into and her friend’s shit got stolen. It was our one mercy. The pink friend was safely dropped off, finding out shortly after that the hot water in her house didn’t work and she couldn't take a shower. The rest of us were a bit luckier than that, we could at least try to wash off some of our sorrows. 

I’m going to sound like a conspiracy theorist here for a moment but when I say our group is cursed, I say it with sources. We each blamed our individual cursed selves for the events that happened that night because each of us individuals have dealt with cursed bullshit so many times before. Beyond that, us as a group are incredibly unlucky to a psychotic, supernatural, godly extent. I never used to believe in the “simulation theory” but I think I do now. There is no way we have dealt with as many things as we have naturally, it’s statistically impossible. We aren’t bad people, there is no karmic justice here. Karma doesn’t even exist, it’s a nice mindset but terrible people like the dickheads that stole our shit exist unpunished. We are in the Hunger Games fighting for our lives against tomfoolery, bullshit, stupidity, and no odds in our favor. Gamemakers are controlling these things, they are behind our suffering. It is the only way this makes sense. We are not responsible for our lives because there’s no control for us to begin with. No matter the kindness and empathy, and love, and compassion we have, it will never reward us. I’ve always felt like I was put in this world to suffer and now I know why, that’s what is designed. The Gamemakers like tragedy and they formed our group and all our unfortunate circumstances to fulfill that. It’s all false and real at the same time, but in the end, we are pawns nonetheless. That’s why, even if I never left my house in order to stay safe, my building would burn down. Just like there were no good options around us parking, there are no good options around whether I stay or go. I’ll lose either way. We would have lost either way, no matter where we parked. It’s what the evil overlords would have guaranteed. They were baking that weekend and they made sure to place the cherry on top of the cherry on top of the cherry on top of the shit cake they so maliciously crafted.

[meringuejellyfish]

:-p animal crossing is making me wanna draw nice things

[i-like-turkey]

We were told at the start of season four that the big theme of the season would be “change.” Can Villanelle genuinely give up killing and become ‘good?’ Can Eve embrace her darkness and find meaning in a life without Villanelle? 🦂🐸…But what 4x07 revealed is that there is a more subtle corollary theme of season 4: aging.

This theme has always been present in the show. Eve is a middle aged woman who upends her life upon encountering a younger woman. It’s a classic mid-life crisis story only without the heterosexuality and fancy cars.

But what season 4 gives us is a look at what it feels like to age. Every day we wake up one day older and a little bit wiser/dumber from whatever we encountered the previous day. Over time these experiences fundamentally do change large aspects of our personalities. Every so often we make big external life changes that also change us (e.g., moving to a new city, breaking up with someone, new jobs, etc.).

As you get older, you start to reflect back on life and can break things down into periods: here is who I was in middle school, in high school, in my early 20’s and so on. They are all you, but they are all recognizably different people. In some cases this difference may be slight (high school and college you are the same, but college you had no curfew so your dumbassery lasted longer into the night) or radically different (high school you was wearing dresses and dating boys, mid 20’s you had a shaved head & tongue piercing & was breaking women’s hearts throughout town).

Where it gets weird is when you encounter parts of your past that trigger memories of your younger self. There can be a brief moment where you fully expect to be back in that era; where that younger self pops out only for you to realize that your former self is gone and so are the circumstances surrounding that memory.  Killing Eve absolutely nailed the discomfiting horror of this feeling during the 4x07 karaoke scene. Eve is singing along and then bam: her ex hubby, Bill, and Elena are there. But they really aren’t and they never will be there like that again. So of course she freaks the fuck out. She was happy then—maybe not happy in the big picture sense—but at that moment singing with them? She was happy. And now…well, she’s not and she has no idea what to do with herself.

This theme is very relevant to Carolyn’s arc.  Throughout the entire series we’ve been given stories about her good ole Cold War spy days and met quite a few of her flings. In seasons 1-2 she seemed to revel in the memories. Probably because at that point she’s still a very active player in the spy games and has the support of her government. In season 3 this waivers as she has to deal with her son’s death, her annoying daughter, and the fact that her spy bullshit is likely what got Kenny killed. But in season 4 when she’s cast out of MI6, is where we see her struggling with the full weight of her life. That scene in 4x03 where Carolyn is standing in her Russian apartment in an ugly as fuck nightgown absolutely kills me. She initially has her eyes closed, so I interpret this as her thinking about all her past life decisions that led to this point. Then she slowly opens her eyes and looks at the wall. We can’t see a mirror in the scene, but I like to think that one is present and that she’s looking at herself and wondering “who the fuck is this person? where did my younger self go?” Her subsequent encounters with Lars and the German lady drive home this feeling. It’s not thrilling to see them. She’s fucking tired and not in the mood to deal with the memories of her past selves.

Ymmv on my interpretation here. I probably have a good 10 or so years on most of the folks in the KE fandom. So this may not resonate as much.

tldr: aging is fucking weird 🥴

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with itadori yuji

I hope you don’t mind I’m kind of running with this idea and adding more than you asked lol I just...i don’t know it butters my biscuit. Also gender neutral reader~

First meeting:

It’s at his old school

You’re in his class, but you never talk to each other! Itadori is shy with you, believe it or not! He wants to say something but whenever he thinks about going up to you, whether you’re alone or with a group, his stomach twists in knots

Luckily though, you’re also in a club that ends right when he goes to the hospital to see his grandpa, so he’ll walk a little slower to see you coming out of your club room talking and laughing with your friends and he’ll imagine what it must be like to be in a club with you

Will not ask you to join his club tho, shy shy shy he is

It’s only when it’s raining and, yes you guessed it correctly folks, you don’t have an umbrella!

Itadori Yuji has a few options here lads, what do we think he’ll pick?

Option one: be a cool guy and slide right up to you with his umbrella already open in his hands and tell you that he’ll walk you home

Option two: ask politely if you’d like to walk under his umbrella together to your house and maybe stop at a convenience store along the way for a candy?

Option three: be a cool guy(again) and just put the umbrella in your hands and tell you to use it and he walks out into the rain with only his hood on, enticing you to run out to him and say that you two can share an umbrella!

What option do you think he’s chosen?

Now was Yujis chance. You were alone, standing just inside the school entryway rocking back and forth on your heels, a little pout on your lips at seeing the downpour. It had only just started raining, it was clear weather all week, so this rain is more than just a little unexpected.

Gripping his umbrella tightly in his hands, Yuji walks up to you, intent on asking if you want to share his. He’d be more than happy to walk you home, his grandpa would be happy to hear that he walked his crush home instead of ‘wasting his time’ coming to the hospital.

“H-hey!” Yuji’s voice goes higher than he intended when he drops his umbrella and kicks it forward as he walks, launching it at your feet and making you jump a little and turn around. His face erupts in a fiery blush when you pick it up and look at him quizzically.

“Here you go.” You say, holding it out for him to take. Yuji shakes his head almost violently, much to your confusion. “Uhm, Itadori, what are you trying to say?”

You know his name. Oh fuck, you know his name and here he is making a fool of himself.

“I-I- no, take my umbrella.” His brain is in critical overdrive. He truly might pass out. “Take my umbrella! I have my hood, and I’m not going very far! Just to the hospital, to see my grandpa! They’ll probably have an umbrella there I can borrow if it’s still raining!” He really, honestly, truly didn’t mean to say all that, but the words came out like vomit.

“Oh, that’s nice, thank you so much!” Your smile warms his heart but does nothing to calm him down. “But I’m-”

“(Y/N)!” One of your friends shouts from down the hall, and they quickly round the corner with their own umbrella in their hands.

“Hey!”

“I got my umbrella from the classroom, let's go home now!” Your friend quickly notices Yuji. “Hi Itadori, what’s up?”

“He offered me his umbrella. Thanks again, Itadori!” Grabbing his hand, you put the umbrella back in his possession.

“Uh- yeah! You- welcome! Welcome!” Yuji stutters out, waving dumbly back at you as you wave at him and leave the school with a cute little smile on your cheeks.

Yuji was never going to wash his hand again.

First hangout:

This one happens as a going away party for himself after he’s accepted into his new school

He wants to say goodbye to his clubmates, and somehow word got out and a few classmates are coming as well - even you!

Everyone got him a little cake and you’ve all signed a going away card, and Yuji hones in on your message, a cute swirly one written in a glitter gel pen with a heart by his name

Afterschool in the classroom, you all decide to play games and stuff, and that’s when he gets to be close to you

“(Y/N), Itadori, you’re up next!” Somehow a tournament style game has started of who can hold their breath the longest. Standing face to face at the front of the room, you give him a big thumbs up.

“You’re probably going to win, Itadori, I’m bad at this kind of thing.” You laugh.

“Let’s see.” Is all he can say as a reply. You’d talked a bit more after your first meeting, but he could never get more than a few words out at a time.

“Go!” Sucking in deep breaths, you stare at each other with puffed out cheeks. You’re already struggling, fighting back laughter and clapping a hand over your mouth. Yuji thinks he might lose just from seeing how cute you are in front of him.

“Ahhh!” You lose, just like you said you would. Dizzy from lack of air, you stumble forward into him, laughing and gripping the front of his jacket. “Told you!” His hand lands on your shoulder and Yuji is sure he could pass away happy right now.

“Yeah, you are pretty bad.” Yuji laughs, finally breaking his nervous shell around you the more you laugh and pat him on the arm.

After this game, you form a team and play with a ball, help each other with cards, and you even paint his nails in a pretty polish you’d brought from home. At the end, Yuji is still too nervous to ask for your number, so this is the last time you see each other.

First confession:

It’s been two years since then, he’s a third year now and Yuji still thinks about you. He still checks in with his old school friends from time to time and asks about you, and he follows you on Instagram and sees the things you post and how much you’ve changed over the years

He’s not content living this way, only seeing and hearing about you like this, but it’s been two years since you last saw each other and you weren’t exactly close before you left, so he couldn’t just slide into your DM’s

And in the past two years he’s changed. A lot. Not only has he been swamped with his new life, he also has a whole nother soul inside of him that quickly learned of his long lost crush and teased him about it nonstop

But on a free day in the city with Nobara, he’s quite literally buzzing - you’re in the same area. He saw you post last night about going to a certain cafe and all he had to do was ask Nobara if she wanted to go to the city and she said yes immediately.

And now he’s standing in front of said cafe, and he can see you inside. Surprisingly you’re alone, and his fingers itch to go in and ‘casually’ bump into you

Nobara knows of his crush on you as well, and as soon as she spots you she’s pushing Yuji through the door, and of course they cause a fucking scene

“Get in the fucking cafe!” Nobara is shouting not so quietly. There’s people walking past them, looking confused, and Yuji could literally die right now, especially when he makes eye contact with you.

He gives up then, letting himself get pushed into the cafe. He expects Nobara to follow after him but she’s running down the street cackling evilly. Yuji has no other option than to go in and order a drink, albeit shamefully.

“H-hi. Is this seat taken?” He asks you. You’d been watching him ever since you saw him with a big smile barely concealed by your hand.

“Of course not, Itadori.” You giggle.

God, he’s missed you.

Sitting down across from you, Yuji takes a quick sip of his drink to soothe his suddenly parched throat. Sukuna knows better than to pop out in public, but that still doesn’t stop Yuji from putting a hand over one of the marks below his eyes, just in case.

“How have you been (Y/N)?” He tries to say casually, but his voice warbles and Sukuna chuckles quietly for only him to hear.

“I’ve been good! It’s been so long, Itadori, I’ve missed you!” You pout, a wicked sight for his heart, and you reach across the table to pat Yuji on the arm. “I’ve been wanting to message you on Instagram for forever now but I’ve been too nervous you wouldn’t really remember me!”

“You have?” Yuji gasped dramatically, and he could hear not only you but Sukuna laughing at him.

“Yeah! I’m actually really surprised to see you here, I thought you went to a school out in another prefecture.”

“N-no! I’m still in Tokyo!”

“Really, we should totally hang out sometime!”

“Yes!” This couldn’t be going any better for Yuji. There’s a pause in conversation where you both take a sip of your drinks.

“So, was that your girlfriend pushing you into the cafe?”

“What?!” Yuji nearly shouts, almost spitting out his drink. “G-girlfriend?!” His cheeks blush lightly, and he shakes his head. “No. No way, she is not my girlfriend. She’s my classmate.”

“That’s good to hear, actually.” Now is your turn to be embarrassed, and a bashful smile spreads on your cheeks. “Because I’ve always kind of liked you.”

What.

“What?!” This time Yuji does shout, Sukuna is definitely laughing at him and teasing him, and you’re nodding in confirmation. “Oh my god.” Running a hand through his hair, Yuji doesn’t even have to think about his next words. “I like you too! A lot!”

“Really?” Your brow raises.

“Yes! Ever since first year. I’ve had a-” was he really about to say this? “A massive crush on you.” He realizes what he’s said is a little heavier than what you said. A massive crush is much different than kind of liking someone, but he can’t help it. And Sukuna is quick to point out the difference in his head as well.

“Then we really have to hang out!” Yuji laughs, relieved you feel the same way.

“It’s a date.” He says and delights in the way you share a cheeky smile.

“Definitely a date.”

First date:

Yuji never thought he’d ever have the opportunity to go on a date with you, at least not in this lifetime

You exchange numbers at the cafe and as soon as Yuji gets back to the dorms he’s texting you, asking if you got home okay and to let him know when you’re free

That first text is a gateway drug because now he can’t stop texting you all the time, even when he’s in class or should be training

He’s staying up far too late to message you but no one can stop him

When your schedules finally align again, you both settle on going to a ramen shop close by his old school

6pm. That’s the time you agreed to meet up. So why was Yuji already down the block from the restaurant at 5:15?

“God you’re so desperate!” Sukuna laughed as Yuji sat in an empty park waiting for time to go by.

“I know, I know.” He groaned back, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes together. “I was so nervous about being late I didn’t even think!”

“Ya know, when I had my own body, I used to go on dates all the time! Women flocked to me, I was a god!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Slapping a hand over the mouth that had appeared, Yuji rolled his eyes. “I’m not like you, we know this.”

“I was hoping I’d be rubbing off on you, kid, but it seems not.” Sukuna sighed in disappointment. When 6pm finally came, Yuji all but ran to the restaurant. He was still ten minutes early, and when you came strolling up the nervous jitters he had increased.

“Hi!” You looked so cute, Yuji could pass out.

“H-hey.” He waved stupidly, and then stumbled to open the door for you. Quickly grabbing a table, he was paying more attention to you than the menu.

“What’re you gonna get? I can’t decide!” You whined, slapping your menu against the table.

“Oh uhm, maybe this one?” Pointing at the first thing he saw that looked mildly interesting, he watched you nod your head and hum. “Or maybe this.” Looking at the menu properly, Yuji pointed at something he’d actually get.

“Ooooh, I wanna get that too! If you get it, will you let me try some?” Your face lit up and you bit your lip, eyes darting between things on the menu.

“Of course!” Yuji nodded without any hesitation.

“Yay! I just can’t decide, everything looks so good!”

“It does!” As he laughed and kept looking at things on the menu with you, Yuji finally let himself relax a little bit. You made great conversation, asking about his new and how he’d been, how he got those scars under his eyes and what his new school was like.

Yuji had never had so much fun talking with someone before, and when the date came to a close, he could nearly cry. He wanted to be with you all the time, see you more often and build more memories together. The thought of going back to his old school even came back.

“I’ll walk you to the station.” He said instead, pushing away all the thoughts in his head.

“Thanks.” You were side by side walking down the block, and Yuji was beginning to find it more and more coincidental that your hand kept bumping into his. He could feel you looking at him from the corner of your eye, and he knew he had to make the leap.

Slipping his hand into yours, he wound your fingers together and squeezed. Both of your palms were kind of sweaty and neither of you looked at each other, but you squeezed his hand back and held it tightly until you got to the station and your train arrived.

First kiss:

After the first date, Yuji is hooked

Any chance the two of you have to be together, he takes even if it means shirking his responsibilities a little bit(Fushiguro is upset but who can stop love?)

You go get ice cream together, go to the arcade, the movies, the park, you even meet Nobara and Fushiguro on a chance day

You do all these things together, but Yuji still hasn’t kissed you!

He wants to, so so bad, but he just can’t, he’d die of embarrazzment if he fucked up and like hit you in the head or something

But sometimes, as nike said, you just gotta do it

It’s raining again, just like when you first spoke to each other. A torrential downpour, but this time you didn’t have a friend coming with their umbrella to the front of the school to share with you. Yuji was coming to your school after your club to pick you up for an impromptu date.

“Hey!” You shouted, braving the rain and meeting him halfway when you spotted him coming up. Hugging him tightly, you shivered from the wind whipping through the air.

“Hi.” Slipping your bag from around your shoulders, Yuji slung it over his shoulder. His arm settled on your waist, holding you close and making sure you were completely covered. Walking so close together like this made him happy, and he almost pressed a kiss to your head.

“Yuji.” You said as you were walking, stopping by a low river lined with trees.

“Hm?” He still couldn’t get over the fact that you were now saying his first name. The both of you stopped walking and you stepped back a little from him, wringing your hands nervously.

“We’ve been going out for a while now and…” Biting your lip nervously, you couldn’t meet his eyes and looked out at the trees being pelted with water. “And I was wondering if you uh- if you wanted to be my boyfriend?”

Oh shit. Yuji was so shocked, he nearly dropped the umbrella.

“B-boyfriend?” He squeaked, his cheeks spreading in a bashful smile. “I’d love to.”

“Really?” Letting out a relieved sigh, you clasped a hand over your heart. “That’s good! I was so nervous.” The way you were looking at him, Yuji knew this was the perfect time to kiss you.

“C-can I kiss you?” His question made your eyes widen, and silently you nodded your head.

Sliding his foot forward on the wet pavement, Yuji faltered a few inches from your mouth, suddenly nervous. He had never kissed anyone before, and what if he was horrible at it and you hated it?

He didn’t have any time to keep thinking about it though, because you closed the gap and kissed him. Dropping his umbrella in shock, Yuji’s eyes widened and he kissed you back, grabbing your shoulder to steady himself.

It was a sweet and innocent first kiss, soft and gentle for the inexperience shared between you. It didn’t even last that long, but it was the most memorable moment of Yuji's life.

“How was that?” He asked when he pulled away. The two of you were getting absolutely soaked with the rain and it dripped down his face into his eyes and mouth.

“Great.” You giggled shyly, putting a hand on your face to hide yourself. Yuji laughed as well and gave your cheek a kiss before picking up the fallen umbrella.

“You wanna go to that ramen shop?” Yuji whispered close to your ear, adjusting your bag on his shoulder.

“Sure.” Turning to him, your eyes dropped to his lips and you gave him a quick peck, breaking out into a fit of giggles again. Beginning to walk down the street, if anyone saw the two of you, they would immediately know what young love looked liked, as it was perfectly plastered on both of your faces.

[halleyj96]

🧧 All you need to know about Korean New Year 🧧

This is only the 1st part so make sure to check out the 2nd part as well!

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Korean New Year (설날) is one of the most important traditional Korean holidays together with Chuseok (추석). It is the first day of the year according to the Chinese Lunar calendar.

During this time, many Koreans visit family, perform ancestral rites, wear hanbok (한복), eat traditional food, and play folk games. Additionally, children often receive money from their elders after performing a formal bow.

The celebration usually lasts 3 days: the day before Korean New Year, Korean New Year itself, and the day after Korean New Year. Since 2014, Korean people can take alternative holidays if one of these 3 days happens to be on the weekend.

Korean New Year generally occurs in January or February on the second new moon after the winter solstice, unless there is an intercalary eleventh or twelfth month in the lead-up to the New Year. In such a case, the New Year falls on the third new moon after the solstice.

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1. Names

Korean New Year (설날) is the day when a new year begins and the old year ends, so the word "설" is believed to have originated from the meaning of "설다", "낯설다", which means "unfamiliar".

During the period of Japanese colonial rule, January 1st by solar calendar was called 신정(新正), and January 1st by lunar calendar was called 구정(舊正). This is a term coined in Japan when Japanese's calendar 和曆 (wareki) was changed to the solar calendar and the Lunar New Year was called 旧正 (kyūsē).

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2. Origins and history

There is a record of the Three Kingdoms that mentioned Korean New Year, which was celebrated during the reign of King Bicheo of Silla in 488 A.D., and later continued to Goryeo and Joseon.

With the introduction of the Gregorian calendar due to the Eulmi Reform, from 1896 the government set the official Korean New Year to the first day of Gregorian calendar.

For more than 40 years after the liberation of Korea (광복), Korean New Year was not treated as a holiday, the South Korean regime designated the period from January 1 to January 3 of the Gregorian calendar as a public new year holiday.

In particular, the Lee Seung-man government and the Park Chung-hee government tried to eliminate the Korean New Year by penalizing private businesses for double taxation, and encouraged them to take celebrate New Year's Day in solar calendar instead. That's the reason why a lot of families from big cities like Seoul started to celebrate New Year's Day.

However, most households still maintained the tradition of performing ancestral rites on Korean New Year's Day and the opinion that the old New Year should be designated as a holiday and respect its tradition was raised, so the government issued the first day of Korean calendar as a folk day (민속��� 날) from 1985 to 1988.

In 1989, the Roh Tae-woo administration accepted public opinion that the old New Year's Day should be re-vitalized, setting the old New Year as official Korean New Year and a national holiday.

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3. Folk beliefs

Tradition has it that if you sleep on the night before Korean New Year, your eyebrows will turn white. So a lot of people stay up all night to greet the new year, and also to avoid having their eyebrows turn white.

There is also a custom of gathering hair that had been combed for a year in a comb box, then burn it at sunset on New Year's Day to fight off bad diseases.

There is a myth that a demon called Yagwang (야광) comes down to the villages where people live on New Year's Day. It puts on children's shoes, and steals them if the shoes fit its feet. The children who lost their shoes are deemed to be unlucky all year round, so a lot of kids hide their shoes and go to bed early.

But, if a sieve is hung on the wall or the gate, the Yagwang demon will not even think of trying on the shoes as it is so occupied by counting the numbers of holes on the sieve. When morning comes, the Yagwang demon will run away immediately.

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🟢 Let me know what you want to see on my blog. 🟢 My inbox is always open for questions.

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☎️ CONTACTS ► Personal Instagram – halleyj96119 ► Study Instagram – studywith.halley ► Tumblr – halleyj96 ► Youtube – Halley’s Adventure ► Facebook – Halley’s Adventure ► WordPress – Halley’s Adventure ► Email – halleyjung96119@gmail.com

[socratoteles]

A year to get Ph.D in letting go

The last time I was here, I wrote that perhaps it was time for me to go out and just enjoy the world. And amid the global pandemic, I sort of managed to do that. It was such a lifesaver in a year of goodbyes. I`ll get to that, but let me begin with my coronavirus scare.

On March 4 last year, I was away in Bandung, aware but not worried of some obscure virus that triggered a total lockdown in some Chinese cities. That very same day was also the time when my colleagues came in contact with a man who later confirmed of having contracted COVID-19.

That was how close I was of contracting the virus. Had I not taken a paid leave to write last year’s essay in the city where I was born, chances were high that I was another case as well, at that early stage of the pandemic too. I`m still familiar with the helplessness that came after I checked in to a hospital only to being denied the test (the nurse reasoned that the contact with my colleagues, who might catch the virus from the confirmed man, cannot be categorized as close contact).

And that experience, of confusion and fear of infecting loved ones, left a lasting impression that shaped my behavior going forward. After all, it takes a pandemic to make wearing mask and washing hands could made the difference between life and death.

Covid-induced isolation meant that I spent most of my time being holed up in my room for the past 12 months. To this day the side effects of this solitary existence is still beyond my full grasp. On one hand, this situation had brought out my inner resiliency, resourcefulness and adaptability in the long days and night when things were just so dark. On the other hand, it also forced me to deal with unresolved traumas and numerous intrusive thoughts, which I will get into later.

People get really creative during the long locked-down days, spending it doing viral social media challenges one after the other. Videoconferencing become a thing on its own and for some reason loads of folks played a game named Among Us too, perhaps to remind themselves of the interactions cruelly torn apart because of the virus.

There was also a newfound awareness on class too, because the coronavirus disproportionately affected different individuals with different income level. At least on my part, I was lucky that essential workers (the pandemic elevated the phrase into such a buzzword) near my place were safe and somehow never contracted the virus. It is worth mentioning that I definitely cannot survive this long if not for the minimarket workers, ride-hailing drivers and dozens of cooks, all of whom must have worked in long hours, despite knowing the risk, just to keep their families fed.

Others, however, were not so lucky. the SARS-CoV-2 had infected more than a million Indonesians a year after it was officially detected in these shores. Millions have lost their jobs as economic activities ground to a halt. The place I currently work was not an exception. Massive layoffs would have happened in my office had the shareholders have enough money to properly compensate their workers.

It was an obviously eye-opening experience to calculate my own severance pay and make sure I could survive on that for as long as possible. The prospect of losing your income during the pandemic –which should be that particular time for anyone to hold on to their what-ifs money– was really awful.

This is the paragraph where I say that I wish nothing but the best for those who left the company simply because they deserve nothing less than that.

But there was another reason why I signed up for a help from professional therapist last year. In the latter part of last year, things got very, very grim. At the risk of oversimplification, let’s just say that I was unable to express my feelings properly to a girl that I really liked, right at the most critical moment when probably both of us needed support from each other. She eventually left with another guy.

Days before that fateful event happened, I was quietly bearing my own burden. After years of convincing myself that I was okay, I was, in fact, not okay, at least mentally. Years of trauma have caught up. It’s too personal to even spell that out here but I`ll just quote this Youtuber just to describe a fitting metaphor. 

“You see, human identity is like a house of card. One that’s always expanding. A story that is ever developing and always referred back to because every memory becomes a new card. Trauma is when a card doesn’t fit because the experience itself is so painful that it’s incompatible with everything else and if you become obsessed with making it fit the whole house of cards can fall apart and you lose the confidence to build anything new.”

Basically, my house of cards came crashing down, hard. At a time, it reduced me into this insecure soul who were unsure that people will accept me for who I was.

The last time I felt this way was a couple years back when my parent’s divorce was formalized. A girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend at that time too. Apparently, the universe has a cruel sense of timing to combine existential crisis with a relationship one.

The road to recovery was rocky, to say the least. I know something fundamental must be addressed, hence the therapy session.

I`m grateful for the company of my friends, either offline or online. (yes, I had become quite loose in terms of isolation because I know I had to prioritize my mental health; COVID-19 be damned). I`m also glad to say that because I talked with my friends about this issue, some of them were also encouraged to seek professional help.

At the height of my despair, I watched La Grande Bellezza (probably for a half a dozen time already) again and found this quote, spoken by the protagonist Jep Gambardella:

“We’re all on the brink of despair. We can only look each other in the face, keep each other company, kid each other a bit. Don’t you agree?”

Someone was kind enough to upload the entire scene on Youtube.

I decided that all bets are off, so I purchased books, many of which had been on my to-read list for years because I know I`ll have to read it when I search for a catharsis. That was how I finally read the Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus, from which I managed to understand what he meant by the absurdities of life. Into the Wild, excellently written by Jon Krakauer, broke my heart too because of Chris Mccandles’ tales somehow mimicked my own, minus the grand adventure part. I finally read Alan Watts too, from whom I learned that efforts to avoid from pain is painful in itself.

And music, a constant part of my life as I know it, helps too. I was saved because Fleet Foxes released a life-affirming record that fittingly spoke about relief, gratitude, and seasonal rebirth. During the darkest days I was just alone with my guitar in my room, terribly singing out the words that these musicians carved out of their soul to release my emotional burden. I was particularly grateful for being reminded time and again that “no one gets it right” but “we’re all supposed to try”.

I made a playlist containing songs that for me served as a reminder to be gentle for myself. You can check that here.

All of that was a roundabout way to say that I indeed, was able to go out amid the pandemic. On one afternoon I just said fuck it, I need to go out and see things. That led me to a weekly socially-distanced walk around the neighborhood, which was therapeutic in itself because the walks allowed me to be fully present and be sensitive to the sights and sounds and smells around me. Nothing is more liberating that allowing your feet to go where it you to go.

I don’t have the full answers yet, but as I wrote his essay, I`m glad to be able to say that I have rebuild my house of cards, with some of the bad cards included as well. It was quite a bumpy ride but when I looked back, this particular tweet was eerily prescient because it rings true today as was the day I tweeted it.

But I walked away from the depths of that bottomless pit not only with knowledge, but also of understanding the parts that made me who I am. I`m also humbled after I saw the abyss for the second time because it suggests that there might be another time when I found myself on the edge of despair.

I`ll never forget the fact that these hard-won lessons came on the back of years of pain, grief and suffering. But it also came on the heels of moments of simple walk in the setting sun and feeling the breeze on the beach too. In fact, I have made it my mission going forward to acknowledge both good and bad things as they are. Because forcing yourself to remember all the bright things when you were in the dark, and vice versa, is a form of self-torture. I hope this essay somehow do that mission justice.

I have said goodbyes to many things in life as the crisis comes and goes, but 2020 goodbyes were simply different. So much so that I thought I have a PhD in letting go already, however absurd that idea is.

[iaintyourbro]

Let’s Talk About... On the Way to a Smile: Case of Tifa and The Kids are Alright: A Turks Side Story

Yes, I couldn’t sleep... again. I’ve gotten good at staying up two days at a time. Then sleeping and going back to it. I suppose it’s the quarantine... Which is only going to get worse it seems...

In any case, I finally got to read Case of Tifa... and... if you came out of that thinking they weren’t a thing... I don’t know what to tell you. I honestly went in to it expecting it to seem very ambiguous and very non-Cloti (in a sense). 

What struck me, first of all is the amount of guilt Tifa talks about having. Tifa seems to be just as bad as Cloud is, she just deals with it differently. Oddly enough, Cloud doesn’t show that much guilt immediately. Tifa is the one who is struggling with this major guilt initially. 

So let’s start with some screenshots (pictures?) I took of excerpts I found interesting. Some I’m sure you’ve seen before. 

Here we have Tifa talking about the guilt. She also feels insanely guilty for what happened to not only Aerith, but everything else that happened (Sector 7 Plate Drop/Avalanche). The other weird thing about this... and this is legit at the end of the OG... she almost is convincing herself that she should stay alive. I found a lot of sadness in that. And it’s not because of anything Cloud did. No... actually I think that’s what snaps her out of it. 

Of course we have a smiling Cloud. You’re going to see Cloud smiles... a lot... and he laughs too, which I really hope they show him laughing because I don’t know what it sounds like... 

I’m sure everyone has seen this. It’s the next page after Tifa calls Cloud out on his bright dork smile he’s giving. I mean he fucking says he has her. And that he knows what that means. 

I... I don’t know how you can’t take this in a romantic sense. Maybe because the guy barely smiles so to me this is massive. Maybe because he had a hell of a time telling her anything down Under the Highwind. I don’t know. But this seems like something that’s profound to tell a person. That’s the end of that section (teases - perfect moment for a kiss). 

I like the “What about you? Are you okay?” Strikes me as something we saw in Chapter 17 when you first get control of Tifa and Aerith, right? “What about you, Tifa? How are you doing?”

Tifa loses it, crying. Guilt, guilt, guilt. They talk more about Tifa’s guilt than they do Cloud’s guilt. Cloud comforts her here. Another profound thing at this point, but... we are seeing him do this in Remake already. The hug is the major one... 

But things like when he grabs her from having a crate fall on her... he could have pulled her out of the way and let her go or pushed her (like Leslie does in the sewers). No, he holds on to her. She actually is the first one to let go here. (Look how cute they are PSPSPSPSPSPSPS)

So this whole part just cracks me up. For one, it shows that these three were busy doing stuff together and slept under the plate, even though it could collapse. 

I HOPE WE GET A GODDAMN VISUAL OF THIS. Barret making happy Cloud and Tifa drinks? LAUGHING THEIR ASSES OFF?!  Barret talking about his past?!

“The other two [Cloud and Tifa] couldn’t remember the last time they’d laughed so much.” 

Let’s be real... probably when they were like 14 - maybe. 

There’s also a part later down that I didn’t get where Barret makes fun of them for getting trashed during this night. I would kill to ALSO see that. 

But... laughing, drunk Cloud? Laughing, drunk Tifa? Plz. 

Happy... sounds like the correct term.

Now there are moments as time goes on - mainly after the bar is open - where Tifa thinks about once the bar gets ready, is Cloud going to leave...

This is where I think people take it as they’re nothing. Tifa I think just has a very hard time accepting that not everything is going to be taken away from her. The impression I got from reading this is it was all in her head. Cloud himself gave no indication that he wanted to leave. (The Geostigma catalyst is later)

And here’s why I said I got no feeling that Cloud wanted to leave. (Oh here’s more about Tifa’s guilt). Above this, Marlene says Cloud and Tifa can be her parents and the two look at each other. Cloud doesn’t look away. Cloud also says Awesome with conviction. Looks at Tifa almost to confirm it’s okay... but these two like to talk without words. I think he knew she was getting nervous, so this was his way of saying “See? I’m not going anywhere?” 

Marlene gave him a nice little assist here so he didn’t have to say anything and Tifa didn’t have to ask. 

Tifa, I think, was already going through her major guilt turmoil - she had an immediate reaction to it. I think she knew, deep down, that Cloud eventually WOULD have this problem, and when she sees the slip from Elmyra for the Forgotten City, I think she knew that was the catalyst. 

“Stop worrying about what they were to each other.” I’ve seen a lot of jokes, mostly on Japanese Twitter posts, that Cloud assumed Tifa was his girlfriend. Like, he didn’t realize he needed to tell her that. I read a post about this somewhere too, that they got the impression Cloud (in the land of Cloud’s mind...) got was that Tifa was his girlfriend and knew this. I’m not sure if it’s because of Under the Highwind, I don’t know if it’s because he pulled the same shit on her and talked to her while she was sleeping. I have no idea. 

To me, Cloud and Tifa don’t have to say they’re boyfriend and girlfriend. It seems kind of funny after all they’ve been through. They’re almost like extensions of each other at this point. 

Okay so the above is from The Kids are Alright. Evan goes to see Tifa at the bar because he just saw Cloud and needs to get to Nibelheim. And Cloud tells him to talk to Tifa. 

I have to laugh about this Evan staring at chest line... lololol

Let’s talk about how she describes Aerith. “Friend doesn’t do her justice.”

...Did Tifa have romantic feelings for Aerith? Probably not (though we’d all be fine with it because Aerti is adorable). @holysmotez​ Made a very good post about how Aerith can be seen more as a holy/religious figure. I think Tifa saying this really does enforce that with me as well. 

Also this is the part where you find out there’s blackmail pictures of all three of them in the dresses: Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith. 

But I marked an interesting one - “I’ll be fine. And I’ve got Cloud, too.” She sounded confident.

Now, I was blowing through this at this point. I will go back and do a normal reading of it, but after this, Kyrie and Evan go on a journey round the world it feels like. There’s Nibelheim talk. They talk about some of the people who were killed during the Reunion and are found at the northern crater. 

And here is the end of The Kids are Alright. 

Cloud tells Evan that they’re a family. 

This is AT THE END OF AC when the church is being utilized as a way to heal folks. On thing that also seems odd... A lot of people were under the impression that Cloud disappeared for months... but it was like a week. Tifa blows him a kissy kissy at the end of the movie, then apparently walks up with him and the kids to see Evan and Kyrie - very family like. 

I also did not get any jealousy vibes from Tifa and no I’m hiding this cuz Aerith feelings from Cloud.

The part where he tells her where he found Denzel felt more like he knew she was worried about him closing in on himself again (which he already was anyway), but her reaction didn’t come off as she felt jealous nor that she felt he was hiding it cuz feelings. She wanted to go cuz she wanted to go and be with him and maybe feel her friend (more than friend) there.

I got the same feeling as I did when he was taking extra jobs to get extra money for his bike. Like I should have told you I was there, and it wasn’t really planned. I think he was praying or whatever the equivalent would be. He was feeling guilty, going down a bad path... because he wasn’t just visiting the church in AC. He also was visiting Zack’s grave. I mean, he let the Buster Sword rust to hell out there. (Angeal knows what you did, Cloud.)

So here’s how I feel after reading this, and now I do think that Remake is setting this up better.

Aerith is the same type of person to Cloud and Tifa. They both feel the same way about her. She feels the same way about them. It’s different than a simple friendship, but it’s not romantic. Spiritual is a good way to describe this. 

There is the part where Aerith says Cloud was more than a friend, for she had loved him. By itself I’d say holy shit, wow, Aerith had romantic feelings for Cloud. After reading the rest of this, thinking of the OG, AC, CC, and Remake - yes, she loved him - but not like she loved Zack - she loved Cloud as a special person, not in a romantic sense. I think she almost felt like she had to protect him, because in this same part when she says she loved him, she also says she knows he has almost a delicate heart, but also needed to find a way to warn him about the shit about to go down. 

I think if you asked Aerith about Tifa, she’d say she loved Tifa too. I think OG didn’t do a good job of building up the Tifa and Aerith friendship to show exactly how important she really was to the whole thing, but time constraints, technology, whatever, a lot of games in the 90s suffered from this type of shit. Get the game out! We’ll figure out the rest later...

This also does not talk about Cloud’s feelings on Aerith. The only indicator we really get in this is that Cloud felt guilty that he could not protect Aerith. 

My guess is he told Tifa this at one point, probably during one of the conversations that she needed his help to stay strong. That’s not romance. He felt obligated to protect her because he was supposed to be her bodyguard, but beyond that, he just protects people. He doesn’t have to be madly in love with them. There’s a difference in how he reacts to her death and Tifa’s simulated death. Cloud is able to function, fight Jenova, and carry her off to drop her off in the lake. 

Tifa’s he completely starts to freak. We see what he does in Nibelheim and overtakes Sephiroth. I am not sure what would have happened if Sephiroth didn’t stab him and Tifa had died at that point... I really don’t know. 

In any case, you should go read these novels too. The Kids are Alright has Kyrie and Leslie in it. Evan I’m sure we will see at some point soon.

Don’t be afraid to read them... I was because of shit information online, so I hope this puts you at ease.

Oh, Barret and Cid have a conversation about Cloud and Tifa being together too... 

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Just Me and You - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Rio Alvarez x Black!Plus size!Oc

Summary: Simone Dunn is a singer just trying to live her best life and make it through the obstacles that have been put in front of her. Living life in the city isn’t always easy. Life might be kicking her in the ass presently, but she kept a smile on her face regardless. Rio Alvarez is all about his business. He’s expanding up and out of just the money laundering business. He wanted it all. He was hooked from the second he heard her voice, but will her past and his enemies let them be together?

Warning(s): None really. It’s a meet-cute. They meet, it’s cute. 

Word count: 2,026

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie, this story means a lot to me. I was never sure if I’d start posting it or not. Simone has been an OC of mine for a long time now and when the idea to pair her with Rio popped into my mind I knew it could be something very special. I hope you all enjoy the journey. As always questions, comments, and concerns are welcome! Might even start a tag list but we’ll see. Thanks for reading. xo

Rio stared out of the window, looking out at his investment. It had the perfect eye line for all the exits and it had the best view of the stage. Since he began flipping his game and moving up in the world he became acquainted with folks that had different tastes than him. The opportunity to invest in this club kind of fell in his lap. His new co-owner was a sloppy prick, but Rio couldn’t deny the club was bringing in a nice grip of money for him. He liked the anonymity of being a silent partner. Every two weeks he’d roll through, check up on the club, and collect some cash to put into his other businesses.

As he looked down at all the club goers, he was pleased to see the place was pretty packed. He was not happy to see the owner, Shaun, with two women on his arm. This wasn’t a social hour. He was here for business. Mick, his right hand man, was guarding the door and hadn’t moved an inch to let Shaun in. 

“Hey man. Place is poppin tonight right?” Shaun greeted Rio as he tried to maneuver past Mick who only moved at Rio’s nod. “Enjoying your night? These are a couple lady friends of mine. Say ‘hi’ ladies.”

“Hi.” The two girls parroted at Rio, waving at him.

Rio didn’t bother greeting the women. “Get rid of the bitches man.”

“What?” Shaun asked, his tone confused.

“I ain’t gonna tell you twice.” Rio’s face hadn’t changed. He just stared Shaun down.

Shaun cleared his throat and whispered something to the ladies before they shuffled back out of the room. It was quiet except for the sound of the music pumping through the speakers.

“My bad man. They were sexy as hell though right? Can you really blame me?” Shaun tried to excuse, a smile on his face as he walked over to where Rio was standing.

As soon as he was within arms reach, Rio gripped the back of his neck tightly and pulled him close. He stared directly in his eyes. “Don’t ever bring nobody to one of our meetings again. I choose to keep you on, but that can easily be changed. Get my money and stop fucking playing with me.”

Shaun merely nodded and Rio let go of him. Shaun tried adjusting his suit and cleared his throat. He walked over to the wall that was furthest from the window and opened a panel in the door. He put the code into the panel and opened it up. There was a silver case inside that he pulled out before closing the door back. “Business has been better than ever. I was able to add a permanent residency here that has us packed every week. We may even be able to up prices a bit.”

Rio’s eyebrow quirked in interest at the man’s words. “Permanent residency?”

Shaun had set the case on the table and Mick opened it, starting to count the money that was inside. Rio walked closer to take a look inside and noticed that there seemed to be a couple more stacks than usual.

“Yeah. I’m still having different live performers come in, but people also like consistency. They like knowing they’re coming to hear quality music. And the pipes on this one? Massive. Doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous too.”

Rio would never admit it but he was definitely intrigued. “Who is she?”

Shaun walked back over to the window and smirked as he looked down. “Simone Dunn. Lucky for you, you came at the perfect time.”

Rio noticed the club music had shut off and people were clapping. As he walked to stand next to Shaun, a slow instrumental was playing. A soft spotlight appeared on the stage and the crowd’s clapping intensified. A giggle was heard over the mic.

“Aww, y’all are too good to me.” The woman’s voice was clear as day, but had an alluring quality. She had big black hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her dress was pink and it gave a tantalizing view of her breasts as well as her full figure. Her skin was creamy brown and the outline of her ass was particularly appealing to Rio.

“We’re starting off grown and sexy tonight y'all. So if you’re vibing with someone, gon’ head and pull ‘em a little closer. I’m just tryna help y’all possibly end the night on a good note, if you know what I mean.” She winked at the crowd and people laughed as others hollered and whistled.

A familiar beat reached Rio’s ears, taking him back to house parties in his old neighborhood. He remembered talking slick to a fine girl as she danced on him, knowing she was gon let him fuck by the end of the night.

I'll always think of you Inside of my private thoughts I can imagine you Touching my private parts And just the thought of you I can't help but touch myself That's why I want you so bad Just one night of

The sultry sound of her voice traveled from Rio’s ears straight to his dick. He watched as her hips moved side to side as she gripped the mic stand. She was a temptress, an enchantress. Hell, she was a siren and her song was the one calling him home. Home being the absolute treasure he was sure is hiding between her thighs. 

Can't get my mind off you I think I might be obsessed The very thought of you Makes me want to get undressed I want to be with you In spite of what my heart says I guess I want you too bad All I want is

Her eyes were locking onto different people in the crowd. She was working her magic on everyone. People were partnered up and there was lots of grinding happening on the dance floor. As she looked around, her eyes happened to dart up and land on his. She looked taken aback, but curious. She never once stopped singing and now it seemed like she was singing the words directly to him.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Shaun asked, but Rio ignored him. His eyes were still locked with Simone’s as she sang. A smile pulled at her lips and her cheeks felt hot so she pulled her eyes away from him to look back toward the crowd. She missed the quick smile that appeared on Rio’s face before he turned his back to the window.

“Have you had any trouble here? Fights? Anyone tryna shake you down?” Rio asked Shaun, who looked perplexed by the sudden topic shift.

“No. I would have called you right away. Like I said, things have been great. Should I be worried or on the lookout?” Shaun asked, his tone taking on a nervous quality.

“Nah, man. Just looking out for my investment. Enjoy your night with your lady friends.” Rio dismissed the other man and Shaun took the exit without hesitation.

“You think they know you got dealings in this place?” Mick asked, once Shaun was gone.

“No, but you can never be too careful.” Rio replied, eyes drifting back toward the stage. She had begun singing a new song. Something a bit more fast paced. “I wanna keep this place as legit as possible. We need something clean in case we run into some trouble. But I aint scared of them. I’ll deal with ‘em when the time’s right.”

Mick merely nodded his head as he finished up the count.

“Everything square?” At Mick’s confirmation, Rio walked over to him. “Go ahead and take everything back to the warehouse. Imma stay and check things out for a bit. Have a drink. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Rio headed down to the bar and got himself a shot of brandy. He nursed his drink as he finished listening to the performance going on. He was in the middle of texting some associates to set up meetings for the next week when applause broke out all around him. He looked up to see Simone walking towards the bar, blowing kisses as she went.

“Ji, baby! Please get me one last malibu pineapple and I’ll love you forever.” She exclaimed, taking a seat one away from Rio. He was watching her interaction with the bartender.

“You better already love me.” The bartender, Ji-hoon, retorted even as he went about making her drink.

“You know I do boo.” She winked, a wide grin on her face. “In fact, I love you so much that I’m leaving you a big tip tonight.”

“Are you trying to buy me? Cause I’m absolutely up for sale.” He smiled, sliding her drink over to her as he leaned on the bar. He glanced over at Rio and nodded his head towards him. “Hey, you need to be topped off?”

“Yeah, man.” Rio answered and Simone finally noticed him sitting there. Ji poured Rio another drink before getting distracted on the other side of the bar by other paying customers. 

Simone made eye contact with him before looking down at her drink and swishing the glass around.

“You have a beautiful voice, mama.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him with a smile on her face.

“Interesting choice of song too. I know a couple people here gotta be happy about the assist you gave them.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “Anything for my fans.”

“Anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Within reason.” She quickly added.

“So you’ll let me buy your drink, then.” 

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow and she turned around in her stool to face him, legs crossed and her silver heels shining. “So you’re a fan?”

“I am now.”

“I’ve had an open tab all night and I just promised Jian a big tip.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed.

“And what do you want in return for so graciously picking up my tab?” 

A smirk appeared on Rio’s face and he slid one bar stool over to be closer to her. Their eyes never left one another. “I’d love to have a conversation with one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her lights lit up in surprise and delight at his words. That soft smile of hers, returning to her face. “I guess I could swing that. So what’s your name?”

“It’s Rio, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Rio….I like it. I see you’re familiar with Shaun. Y’all friends or something?”

“Or something.” He answered, taking a sip of his drink.

“Or something. That’s not mysterious at all.” She joked.

“I aint no mystery baby. What you see is what you get.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say.”

“Who?”

“Boys.” She retorted, finishing her drink.

“I’m all man and I’d love to demonstrate just how much of a man I am.” 

She looked back over to him and there was a delicious smirk on his face. No one man should be able to look like that. It’s too much power. “Tempting, but I have plans.”

“At 2 in the morning?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Is that judgment I hear in your tone Mr. ‘I-Can’t-Say-How-I-Know-Shaun?’”

Rio had to chuckle. “You got me there.”

She checked her phone and sighed at the time. “I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you Rio. Hope to see you again.” She then asked Ji-hoon to hand her the bag that was hidden behind the bar.

“You will.” He asserted, wondering why she didn’t use the employee lockers he remembered being installed. The thought was erased from his mind by her leaning into his personal space. His hand immediately went to her waist and his fingers grazed the top of her ass.

“I’m counting on it.” She whispered in his ear, before walking away and waving at a couple people as she went. He watched her the whole time and it wasn’t until she reached the exit that she turned her head to look back at him. He knew he had her.

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch23 Poppy’s Day Out

"Last stop Express Town. Thank you for choosing PenCo Metro for all your space travels. We at PenCo value your time as customers and hope to see your lovely faces again soon. And hope you enjoyed your space traveling experiences with us." The few penguins that were on the metro along with Poppy, Cookie, and the girls excited the space train as it sat still in the giant tower like structure funnel that would take it back upwards to the moon. Passing a few other penguins and maybe an owl or two heading back towards it. "Attention boarding passengers. The Evening Express back to the moon will leaving within fifthteen minutes. Please be sure to have your luggage in hand when you board."

"Does he always have to say the same thing every time we use it?," Mu asked earning a slight frown from Cookie.

"That's his JOB. It's what he's supposed to do. Don't complain about him doing his job correctly."

Whelp. Here they were. Down on the planet finally and had real dirt under her feet.....Or sand. Really, REALLY hot sand. Blue eyes gazed around her at the scorching desert surroundings and the decently sized town of owls walking around. It looked as if she just walked into a western movie and stopped. There must've been at least a hundred and twenty different buildings if she was estimating it good enough from their spot on the hill. It was a decent sized town all right. Not too big. Not too small. But absolutely hot with the afternoon sun beating down on them and such. One gigantic building stood in the dead center of the town and it had a decent sized parking lot too. She was certainly more at ease and comforted at least. Express Town certainly looked more her time than the flashy neon lights of Moon City that's for sure. Smiling she followed along Cookie as the girls ran ahead of them a few feet giggling and playfully shoving at one another kicking up sand.

"This place looks pretty rustic," Poppy commented smiling. From the hill she could also see a set of train tracks leading into and away from the town and beside that was a train station. Everything just looked as it was in a western like town in her day. Not that she's ever been to one, but she did have relitives who did.

Cookie nodded in front of her watching the girls with a smile. "That there big building is the Dead Bird Studios. Most of the owls who live here work there or in the small shops around town. You see Conductor may be a little.....loud but he loves supportin' local shops here. He gets all his costumes from the famous clothing store nearby, and his coffee from Jukebox Cafe'. They have a delicious bird seed chocolate cappuccino...If you don't mind birdseed that is. My own little resturaunt is right across the street from the studios. I always wanted one, and thanks to the directors' generosity I finally did."

".....I think I actually saw one of this Mr. Grooves's picture shows now that I think about it." Her memory went to two night before while cleaning the attic and kitchen. She still couldn't sleep after a while and stayed up a bit watching something she couldn't remember fully on the television the girls left on.

"Oh really? Well Mr. Grooves certainly has a more flashier taste than Conductor but his are just as nice if you ask me," Cookie replied unbiased before looking over her shoulder at her. "The first place we'll stop by is Hawk's Eye Pawn shop."

".....Pawn shop?"

"It's kinda like a trading post. You trade things there for pons or bye somethin' they have on the store shelves."

Oh. So a trading post. She knew what those were alright, had one on the edge of the town she lived in. Where she got most of her furniture and goods actually. Following Cookie, they all went into the town of owls. And she got a good look at everyday life in a town of owls and birds. As soon they stepped foot in there she could see that everything was made a little taller thank goodness, she didn't feel like crawling through any more doorways and tunnels feeling awkward and big and clumsy. Funnily enough most of the houses they passed seemed to be nothing more than homes, if the stores didn't have open signs or display cases in their windows, she would've thought all of these were just more homes for these owls. And speaking of the owls, most were just walking around minding their own business, walking in or out of buildings, and Poppy even saw a few elderly owls in the comfy seats of rocking chairs on shady porches watching the world go by. The girls giggled and ran past them in a game of tag with Bow reaching her hand out trying to catch Hattie or Mu. And some of the old birds smiled at the energetic children. Poppy would admit they were definately a cute bunch as well. Still following the cat, Poppy lifted her arm up to wipe at her long bangs and forehead. It sure was hot, not surprising since it was a desert, but she hoped they'd get to this 'pawn shop' soon. And hoped it was cooler inside. The girls never got too far from them as they ran around kicking up dust and sand in their game as Poppy switched between watching them and looking around fanning herself. Where did they all get that energy? It was too hot to play in her opinion, and the weight of the gold in her apron was starting to hurt her neck and shoulders a bit. That was soon all solved when Cookie turned in front of an all brown wooden building and started up the steps leading into it. Of course Poppy and the girls following behind and running in. A small bell above the door rang out as the door was opened and Poppy sighed at the wave of cool air hitting them as they waltzed in. But was surprised at the stuff she saw. Calm guitar music played from a small radio in the corner as an owl held his head in his wing looking boredly at them from the desk, to his right was a register. All around the place was cluttered items jammed everywhere. From beds, to pots and pans lining the walls, to random objects she'd never seen before.

With a sigh the owl spoke. "Welcome to Hawk's Eye Pawn Shop, where we have a hawk's eye view for priceless and useful objects. Feel free to ask if you need any help.....or not, " he said in a flat tone. Giving Poppy the feeling of slight annoyance in her as she raised a brow. Luckily Cookie stepped in before anyone else could as the girls ran around looking at things like normal children their age did. Walking right up to the desk as the owl followed along lazily with his eyes as he stared at Cookie before rolling his eyes. "Hello, Ma'am. How may I assist you this fine evening?"

"Glad you asked." Cookie pointed over at Poppy. "My friend here has a lot of gold she'd like to trade in today."

"..Gold?" Immediately the owl's interest peeked as he chuckled and finally smiled at them, "Oh w-well this IS a surprise! Please come, come! You've come to the right place, Miss." He gestured for Poppy to come over and reluctantly she did as the owl rubbed his hands-....uh..Wings together and smiled widely at her. "Just allow me to measure it a-and we can get you your pons, Ma'am."

"Uh...Ok." She reached down to the larger pocket of the two and pulled out the heavy gold cheese wheel, it must've been fifteen pounds at least. She set it with a small thump on the table and the owl hooted in surprise at the large item she placed down. Blinking and gawking in surprise at the large thing. ....Which was followed by the trophy, and the potion bottle out of her large pocket. And then the Mafia statue, pencil, candle, gear, and cheese slice. The owl gawking at all the things laid out before him in pure gold glory. "There ya go. That's the lot of it."

The owl sputtered blinking at them all....Before reaching up to pull out a small magnifying device out of his breast pocket and picked up the golden candle. "T-T-This is!...INCREDIBLE!! I've never seen such fine craftsmanship in my life! AND IN PURE GOLD!! It's unmistakable! Pure. Solid. Twenty four carrot GOLD!!" He could almost FEEL the heat radiating off the candle, it almost looked like it could've been real at one point. He looked back at Poppy unbelieving. "W-Where did you ever aquire such beautiful items?!"

"Oh...I- Uh..." She had to think fast. She wasn't about to tell some stranger some magic alien potion turned these things into gold by some king roach. They'd think she was crazy. So why not tell the truth but a different truth. "My g-great granddaddy on my mama's side was a blacksmith. He worked with metal's all the time." Which was true. Her Great Granddaddy Silver Copper-field on her mother's side was a blacksmith.

"But we found them in the attic," Bow innocently chimed in tilting her head confused.

Mild panick flashed on Poppy's face. "Uh...W-Well people find all sorts of old things in their attics all t-the time!"

Which was another truth. But the owl seemed too enchanted by the items he rolled over his his hold to care about her nervous tone at all. "Well he must've been a fine crafter in his day. I've NEVER seen such beauty." He snapped up to her suddenly slamming his hands on the counter and leaning over making her jump in surprise and lean back. "I MUST have them! Won't you part with them! It'll make me the talk of the town for once besides those ratty directors!! I'll be the only bird in the world to have them!!"

Now Poppy could sense pretty well when some one was gonna fight being raised around a bunch of rowdy country folk that often fought over land and territory. And BOY! The way the two little girls and Cookie bristled at the comment the owl made sure did look like they were about to argue, but that was NOT what she came here to do. She wanted to get out and have a relaxing day seeing this new place, so thinking quickly she got between them and the owl smiling more than a greedy pirate. "Deal. But on the condition ya give me what I'm owed for it all, and the promise ya won't say a word about where ya got it from." She didn't need someone asking around in case.

He quickly agreed grabbed the gold one by one. "Oh I promise. I very, very promise. Hmhmhmhmhm!! Not one word out of me. After all I don't want anyone else to have one but me."

Poppy sighed and watched as with great difficulty the owl man just gathered up all the gold in his arms teetering and wobbling about as he went towards the left side of the counter. They all watched as he wobbled his way towards a large scale against the wall that reminded Poppy of the large scale the local banker used to have to measure her pons in whenever she went to put her savings in the bank, only much bigger. A few large clanging noises rang out as he dumped the gold into it and watched as the red arrow of the scale tipped until it measured-

"F-F-Fifty two pounds!," the owl gawked at the scales before giving a thoughtful look. "Let's see. Minus tax on gold fifty two equals up too about....." His eyes widened and he suddenly let out a hoot gripping the feathers on his head. "F-F-Five thousand pons!!"

"Oh....Do you not have that m-many pons?"

"Uh..." The owl nervously looked between her and the statues. "N-No. J-Just a little over half of it. B-B-BUT I-I C-CAN OFFER A TRADE!!" He quickly pointed around the cluttered place, as if nervous to lose the precious gold he so desperately wanted. "I-I can pay half and trade for the other! W-Whatcha say?"

Poppy stopped for a minute. Looking around the cluttered place with a raised brow, and gazing over everything slowly. That wasn't a bad idea actually. Since she could use some knew things once she gets settled on her own again and didn't need anymore help. And getting stuff for free? Now they were talking! Maybe this was the universe paying her back for all her troubles and hard work finally! Smiling she happily agreed to the deal much to the Owl's delight and he quickly scrambled about to grab all the pons he needed for the trade from a giant vault in the back and they began searching. Well, the girls found lots of little knickknacks like small toys and for Bow a large sunhat with a pretty blue bow on it and how could Poppy say no to that? Well, the red head wasn't going for any random fancy stuff like antique clocks or any other fancy thing right now. But considering $2600) was a lot of pons to trade for, she could spare them to choose a bunch of things for themselves. But looking among some used exercize bikes she found a few things she was really looking forward to see again. What else but some good old fashioned farming tools? A rake, gardon hoe, pitchfork, shovel combo! She hit the giant jackpot!! Smiling as she dragged the old things out of the dusty corner and examined them. They looked to be in good condition. Rusty and dusty, but a mighty fine condition if ya asked her.

"Uh. Ma'am, are you sure you want those?," the owl said leaning back over the counter staring, "T-Those are antique farming tools that were just dumped in the corner. No one would want them.

"I sure do!," She said smiling back at his confused face, "They're just what I needed.

"Well...Y-Yes, t-t-they're in great condition for three hundred year old tools. That's why they're here, they could run in the thousands. Are you sure you want to waste your time with them?"

"Yep!" She Heaved all of them over one of her shoulders with a smile. "I got a plan for these babies. You just keep counting the pons."

"Ok. If that's what you want. It'll be nice to get them out at least," he mumbled to himself ducking back behind the counter.

Continuing looking around a little bit, Poppy managed to find a gold club bag along with her search and stuck her new tools into it, slinging it over herself and able to carry about her new beauties easier. Turns out those tools and the old antique stove Cookie kept looking at. Poppy saw the way she kept longingly staring at it every few minutes of looking around and gladly said she'd take that for her friend here. Cookie insisted she didn't have to but Poppy's mind was already made up anyways, as stated she didn't need that much pons leftover to trade back here again anyways. And she deserved it for all the kindness she had shown Poppy a complete and utter stranger. Well it turns out the knick knacks Hattie stuffed in her hat, (just random things like a few teddy bears, jewelry, a grappling hook, and anything else a girl like her would enjoy) combined with the old stove and it's set, along with those old tools were just enough to cover the other half but she did have to fork over another 100 pons to cover the extra 100 pons the tax came out to be. The bag she was handed wasn't really big, about maybe a small decent sized pumpkin and weighed about as much as a large house cat did. And that went into her large apron pocket for safe keeping while slipping the gold back of farming tools over her. She still had $2,500 to spend. And that was quite a lot of pons especially. Luckily the things weren't as expensive as made out to be. But that did leave another question, what were they supposed to do now? Luckily Cookie had a fantastic idea after seeing the way the uh....tacky dress Poppy was wearing and had the idea for them to stop by the local clothing store much to the children's protest about how boring it was going to be. So they once again found themselves leaving the greedy owl to fond over his new prized possesions and left back out into the hot sun. Resuming their routine of Poppy following behind Cookie as she lead them down the street to wards the far side of the town as the kids ran around again chasing one another. The only difference was Bow was using one hand to keep that giant sun hat on her head now as she went around running after the first two. Poppy still couldn't figure out how Hattie kept all those things in her hat. Alien magic?

"You'll adore this lil shoppe," Cookie happily told her giving a bright grin, "They're real experts at fancy sewing. You see they make most of the costumes for the studio and the directors' movies."

"It sounds like this whole town thrives on that place huh?," Poppy stated giving a look around the old buildings and many owls walking by.

"Oh, this town has been here for quite a long time with the studios," Cookie corrected, "It's only until recently that business really thrived for lacol birds. In the less hotter winter seasons, people come from all over to get a glimpse at the two kooky canaries running those studios. Means Conductor gets some extra business running his train too, he likes to say more budget for his movies come from it."

"Wow. Really?" So this place was some kind of famous spot because of this Mr. Grooves and Conductor, whoever they might be. From what she's heard of them so far, they seemed really nice supporting local business and bringing in so many customers. And she had no reason to not trust Cookie so far. A smile graced her face when he spotted the girls run a little ways ahead of them and caught an earful of their giggles. That was until one fell over. It was just a small rock hidden in the sand that she didn't see, but that didn't stop Bow from tripping over it and faceplanting the sand, knocking up some sand in her crash. Poppy and Cookie both gave a small gasp of surprise and Poppy instantly ran over to her, metal tools clanking together on her back. Hattie and Mu had stopped hearing the thump in the sand from behind them at Bow's faceplant and watched as the curly haired girl pushed herself up. Bow laid there unmoving for a few seconds but by the time Poppy got over there to kneel next to her, she had pushed herself up crying a bit with her eyes shut and spitting out more sand from her mouth. Sun hat falling off her head as she did. Two hands grabbed her and turned her around to face the worried face of the red head as she looked her over. "What happened? Are you alright, Sweetheart?"

"My eyes burn!," Bow cried reaching her balled fists up to wipe at her face but was stopped by Poppy pulling them away.

She sighed. "Well don't rub them, you probably just got some dirt in your eyes needin' ta be flushed out." Looking around she spotted an outside water pump fountain like the one her old home hand and without another thought picked up the tiny girl and stood back up. Bow still crying at the stinging and wrapping herself around Poppy's shoulder as she walked. "Oh hush now. All you need is to rinse it out with a lil water and you'll be right as rain!" She carried Bow over to the small pump across the street and pried her off to set the small gal down in front of the Nozzle. "Now I'm going to pump some water out, and I want you to start rinsing out those eyes and mouth of yers. Ok?" Bow sniffed still crying small tears down her face and Poppy grabbed a hold of the pump handle. Pushing n pulling it up and down to summon the water underneath. A garbling sound came from the pipe's inside and with a pop sound, cold water burst out from the pipe and sprayed the small child in the face. Bow jumped in surprise at the sudden cold water on her but sputtered and swiped at her face and the stream of water hitting her. After a few more seconds of it, Poppy stopped and allowed the strong stream to trickle slowly before stopping completely. She watched as Bow turned her cheek the other way and spat out a mouthful of water, coughing and wiping at her face. Now all soaking wet. She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before blinking her eyes open and looking up with red eyes. There we go. Now that she could see, her eyes would be irritated for a lil bit, but it wouldn't be worse than just someone suffering from a bit of hay fever. "There we go. All better."

....Bow sniffed and blinked. Wiping one eye with her hand and looking down at herself, her other hand grabbing her white jacket. "Now I'm all soaked and cold."

"Uh...Yeah." Poppy rubbed her head. "Kinda figured the sun would dry ya out, but I guess I can buy ya a new dress while we're at this here clothin' store.''

"...*sniff* Really?"

"Absolutely." Walking back over, Poppy bent down and repicked Bow up into her arms letting the little girl grab onto her. "We'll get ya a nice pretty dress that'll make you look like a darlin' lil princess!...Well more of a princess than you are already."

Bow smiled again sniffing and Poppy smiled at her...But paused when she heard someone else awing at them from behind and when she turned around there was a pair of old birds on a shady porch right behind them. The old birds were smiling at them from their rocking chairs like what they were seeing was the most precious thing in the world. "It's so nice to see such a responsible and caring young mother these days," one of them spoke smiling widely, "Your daughter looks like a darling little one."

......Poppy blinked. "Mother? Who me?" She pointed at herself with her free hand before shaking her head. "O-Oh! No, no! I'm not her mother! I'm just watching her for someone I know!"

"Oh, that's too bad. You would make a lovely mother for the dear."

Poppy chuckled nervously but Bow seemed to be looking at her with a strange look. "My...Mother?"

Giving a small thanks Poppy quickly excused herself from the watching eyes of the old birds and back over to Cookie who was waiting for them with the other two children. Wiping dust from the pretty sunhat and looking up at the soaked child in her arms. "Well. I can see we'll be needing to take care of that while we're in there too."

Poppy gave another nervous chuckle but grabbed the sun hat, handing it back to Bow who gladly plopped it back onto her head. Well, guess they weren't going to wait on getting this lil gal some dry clothing. Following Cookie the rest of the way there, they all came across possibly the girliest lookin' store Poppy had ever seen. It was all painted pink and white and had flowers in window pots. Well seeing those cute lil things made her smile at least, she always loved flowers. Above a sign was nailed above the door reading Mrs. Talon's Fabric Shoppe. Guess they were going in when Cookie walked right on up without a second thought so naturally Poppy and the children followed suit. A bell above the door rang like before and thank PECK it was another building big enough she didn't have to crawl through to get there. Upon entering it was the same pink and white themed as the outside. Along the walls was shelves upon shelves of fabric, balls of yarn and threads of all colors, sewing machines for sail along with smaller kits, and anything else one would need for making clothes. Such as buttons, sequins, patches, and books of patterns or techniques. Poppy noticed there was also a giant pink curtain in the back and next to that was a rack of already made dresses with a sign that said 'discount bin half off'. In the very front of the store was a white counter, and a lady owl wearing a floral dress with glasses that made her eyes look too big for her face, but unlike the first owl this cashier welcomed them all with a smile and friendly voice.

"Good Evening, Customers! Welcome to Mrs. Talons! Here we tailor to creatures large and small," she replied in a high pitched tone, "How may I-...I-I..." Her impossibly large eyes went wide seeing the crew of five girls waltz in as Poppy closed the door shut with her foot. "I-....I DON'T BELEIVE IT!!" She suddenly squealed startling the red head woman into almost dropping Bow and blinking at the pig like squeal before the owl lady leaned over the counter looking at Cookie. "I DON'T PECKING BELIEVE IT!! THE COOKING CAT IS IN MY BOSS'S STORE!! M-Ma'am I'm your b-biggest fans! My owlets love your deep fried worm and rice recipe!" Cookie didn't even seem fazed as she chuckled and waved. Making the more owl all the more nervous at having the cat celebity in her store. "H-How may I help you, Ms. Cat?"

"Please. Call me Cookie." Cookie pointed at Poppy still holding Bow in her arms. "We got a youngin' who's in need of some dry clothes and a fashion emergency if I say so myself."

The owl looked up at the two humans adjusting her glasses and frowning at Bow's soaked clothes and the absolutely ghastly amount of tacky lace and fake rubies studded to the collar of Poppy's dark blue dress. Not a good mix, it looked like she was a desperate rich lady trying to play the part of princess. "Oh...I certainly see why. Well, unfortunately with my boss away currently working on a large order for Mr. Grooves, I can't offer anything except for the designs left out from last year's tourism season." She gestured a wing over towards the bargain bin and Cookie slightly frowned at the limited suppy.

"Are you sure you can't make one?"

The owl shook her head. "Sorry, Ma'am. For you I would in a heartbeat, but I'm just the cashier. I ring people out and offer assistance if the customer has questions. The only tailors are my boss and her assistant and they're already away on a giant order call. But if you're interested we do provide everything you need to sew yourself."

"That won't be needed," Poppy cut in slowly lowering Bow to the ground and standing back up and walking to the bargain rack, "I ain't the kind of picky prissy gal a lot of folks I knew was." Walking up right to the rack she skimmed through the options of dresses available and to be honest most were plain day to day dresses without any patterns, but that suited her just fine. She wasn't real picky when it came to clothing as long as it fit ok and it didn't look like the ghastly thing she was wearing so she just grabbed a few random dresses off the bargain pile that was the same size she was wearing. A plain all pink and green one. One that was all white with purple flowers all over it. Another green one with a picture of a kitty cat in the middle of it. And just a purple one with some kind of black vine pattern. Looking back up, she noticed Cookie writing on a piece of paper as the owl excitedly watched, and she gave another small squeal when Cookie handed whatever it was over to her. How strange. Two of the girls were boredly bouncing some yarn balls...Where was- She got her answer when Bow pushed past her and reached up to rummage of her own accord, after a moment pulling out the only thing they seemed to have in a child's size. A bright orange dress with a single daisy on it's front. Her cringe made Poppy chuckle a bit and reach down to pat her head. "Hey. May not be the most pretty, but it's just til we get back an' then you can wear anything ya want. Alright?"

She didn't look happy but relented. "Fine."

"That's my girl!" She gave bow a smile as the little girl blinked and gave Poppy a confused look as she walked to the counter dresses in her arms.

"Your girl?"

Well, the clothes were bought. Which equaled up to about fourty six pons for all of the dresses including Bow's which she changed into behind the curtain. She was dry now but she didn't look like it stomping out and staring at her clothes in disgust. Well with two more bags in hand, one for her new dresses and one for Bow's, they excited the store and the girls were glad to not be coped up in there anymore except for Bow who followed the first two with crossed arms as the adults followed out.

"Come back anytime! Thank you for your purchase!," the cashier called out behind them and Cookie waved back.

"Ya seem to be well known, Huh?," Poppy asked the cat and Cookie shrugged.

"Lots of folks enjoy my work. Who am I to complain?"

"Touche." Poppy sucked in a deep breath and looked out into the world around them with a smile. "Man it's good to see ground that ain't littered with ghosts! But I wish it wasn't so hot!"

"Well this is a desert." Cookie smiled at Hattie chasing Mu around the two using Bow in the middle as a barrier from each other. "But they don't seem to have a problem with playin' anyhwere."

Poppy shrugged. "Doesn't surprise me with what I've seen. But I am surprised they aren't thirsty."

Cookie turned to her. "Why? Are you?"

"Well. A lil bit. When's the next ride back to the moon again?"

"Uh...Well I believe it's just a lil bit past noon, ya'll have to wait for the night train at ten o' clock."

Poppy snapped her head to her with a surprised face. "Wha- THAT LATE?"

"Well it IS the night train for a reason Sugar. But tell ya what, I'll treat ya'll to some real good food at the Jukebox cafe while ya wait." She started stepping towards somewhere else and Poppy slowly followed after.

"Oh no. You don't have to. It's alright."

"And let you eat nothing but a cheese wheel and apples?," Cookie shook her head, "Oh no, no. That wouldn't do at all."

"Ain't there a market or tradin' post with food in these here parts?," Poppy asked back making Cookie chuckle nervously.

"Well....Yes. B-But since everyone in town are actually birds, they don't really sell food catering to humans or many other species except for coffee and what's served in the cafe's since those places get to see more of a diversity especially when tourism comes a callin'. Otherwise it's bird seed, worms, insects, some fruit, and anything else birds eat. Most of what else they get is ordered from the city a couple miles away or mafia town. "

"Oh great. Guess it's cheese and apples for supper tonight then." Her stomach growled and she placed a hand to it shyly making Cookie chuckle.

"Don't worry. I'll send ya'll home with some left overs from mah kitchen set at the-...." Poppy suddenly stopped mid step body completely frozen as if she was paused in the middle of a movie and Poppy almost stepped on her tail stopping just in time. Cookie suddenly grabbed her fuzzy cheeks with a frown. "Oh no!"

"What's wrong?"

"I left my handbag at my set in the studios! My bird passport and wallet's in there, it let's me get free supplies from the cafe with the reward points."

"So...That means?"

"We're going to have to make a pit stop at the studios before anyone eats."

[memorylang]

12 Months’ Pandemic Chronicled | #51 | March 2021

Happy Palm Sunday yesterday, and Happy Passover from the night before! Right under two weeks ago, March 16, 2O2I, marked the one-year anniversary to the close of my first Peace Corps Mongolia service. While I’ve continued to serve virtually, I’ve done so informally as a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Having lived these past 12 months back in the States, today’s tales chronicle that year. 

Also commemorating the one-year anniversary, I’ve uploaded dozens of photos from my first nine months serving Mongolia. You can find those on my Instagram and Facebook, from February and March. I begin today’s stories with those. From there, I chronicle my journey across the year. 

Evacuating Mongolia (February 2O2O)

February’s final week, on Ash Wednesday 2O2O, I was in Mongolia celebrating the third day of Tsagaan Sar, its Lunar New Year. Returning to my apartment from my last supper, I read an email from Peace Corps Mongolia that we were evacuating. I pulled an all-nighter packing my apartment. Shortly after sunrise, I visited a Peace Corps neighbor’s apartment to pack theirs. Then in my final two days, I said hasty goodbyes to community members, exchanging parting gifts. 

Sunday morning, which began Peace Corps Week and March 2O2O, I and fellow Volunteers loaded into Peace Corps vehicles and rode in our caravan till evening. Then the snowstorm caused us to need to stay overnight in a hotel coincidentally located in a city that my cohort would frequent during our summer 2OI9 for training. My evacuation group reached Mongolia’s capital Monday afternoon, with briefings from staff throughout Tuesday. Mongolia had already begun to enforce mask-wearing and physical-distancing, so we couldn’t do much with our final hours in Mongolia. Indeed, since mid-January, many public places had already closed due to quarantine. 

Wednesday night, the week after my peers and I had received notice of our evacuation and now mere hours before my group would depart the country, we awaited the arrival of fellow Peace Corps peers to the capital. For, Peace Corps staff staggered our arrivals into and departures from the capital to account for both the time drivers would need to assemble us from across the nation and the limited flight options still going out of the country. Those of us who remained awake through our final night enjoyed getting to see and embrace peers for our final moments together. 

Over the course of Thursday, March 5, my group flew first from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, through Moscow, Russia, to Berlin, Germany. Many of our itineraries diverged. From Germany, I and a few flew to Amsterdam, the Netherlands. From the Netherlands, I and a couple others flew to New York, New York. I slept four and a half hours’ in a hotel. Then I flew alone Friday from New York to Las Vegas, Nevada. I returned to my home of junior high and high school in North Las Vegas. 

American Twilight Zone (March 2O2O)

My first few weeks in the States felt weird, not just because of reverse culture shock. Back in Mongolia, fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, particularly Health Volunteers, had followed American media and read that our presidential administration had been downplaying the COVID-19 pandemic. Problematically, too, when leaders acknowledged it, some labeled it the “China virus” and accused Asians of spreading it. These set the tone. 

When I arrived in New York, I felt perturbed by the lack of mask-wearing and physical distancing. The morning when I’d fly out, I felt annoyed when the worker who checked me into my flight joked that I might have the virus since I’d flown in from Mongolia. Mongolia had no COVID cases—and wouldn’t have its first community transmission till November 11, 2O2O. Friends, too, when I said that I’d come back, distrusted that I couldn’t have the virus. So, although Peace Corps peers and I had already been quarantining nearly a month and a half before returning to the States—and very much craved to reconnect with folks—we found ourselves again isolated. 

Then Vegas felt weird. Nevada had reported its first COVID case the day before I returned, yet Mongolia hadn’t any. Yet Mongolia had shut down, and Nevada hadn’t. Society moved as though little was happening. My brothers still had school and were gone most of most days. Dad worked weekdays out-of-town. Thus, while I lived again in the States, even inside my family’s home, I was the only one around. I felt lonelier than how’d I’d felt before leaving my life abroad. 

The Filipina family of my father’s fiancée was perhaps the most understanding of my circumstances. The oldest daughter was celebrating her birthday that first Sunday, March 8, since my return to the States. So, I got to join them in enjoying the occasion. As I’d come to learn, Mongolia and the Philippines had more cultural similarities than I’d expected. I’d also feel dismayed to learn that people weren’t treating the youngest daughter kindly in her food service role, for some customers believed that her being Asian meant that she had the Coronavirus. 

Resettling Into Lent (March 2O2O)

Most every morning, my first few days and weeks, tracks from Disney's “Frozen II” became my anthems. I’d seen the film that Friday, March 6, when I’d flown alone back to Vegas. I’d connected especially with “Show Yourself,” “Some Things Never Change” and “The Next Right Thing.” I started to learn the lyrics not only in English but also in Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. 

My local church was still open. Meanwhile, in Mongolia, our church had been closed for nearly months. So, I attended services daily. I overheard old parishioners wondering what all this pandemic talk was about. I visited Reconciliation and a Stations of the Cross service. I applied to sing in the choir with which my late mom sang. 

My second week in the States, church and schools closed. Meanwhile, Peace Corps announced its global evacuation. My peers and I weren’t to expect to return to Mongolia this summer and instead were to expect that fall would be the soonest. My youngest brother’s hs senior spring ended abruptly, so he stuck around at the house. Our oldest brother left to quarantine with his girlfriend and her sisters. 

I cleaned much in and around the house. My greatest achievement early in the pandemic was to lead a garage clean-up with all siblings when my sisters visited. The task enabled us to at last park a vehicle in it once more. My siblings and I donated, too, decades of belongings. 

Among the unearthing, I dove deep into family history. I wrote up my understanding of my father's and my late mother's ancestries, which were also mine. Months later, I'd join WikiTree, talk to distant relatives and migrate large swathes of history onto the platform. 

Easter in Action (April–May 2O2O)

Gloom seemed to enshroud the world by Easter. I saw from the telly the Vatican's Lenten services, witnessing Pope Francis’ words from his city to the world and for Holy Week. His Good Friday Way of the Cross felt especially moving, for prisoners had written beautiful reflections that made me realize how little of a prison our quarantine was. 

My younger sister in LA had also returned to visit Vegas. I resumed daily exercise routines, including trying to concurrently complete handheld video games and walk miles on the treadmill. This began my May push to make the most of my days back in America. I kicked up a daily Duolingo habit, rising through leagues, and talked regularly with Mongols during early mornings. Such helped my sanity, especially when state offices gave me a hard time trying to get the unemployment assistance to which lawmakers entitled evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers.  

Around Memorial Day, an uncle and aunt visited from Kansas to celebrate my youngest brother’s high school graduation online. The relatives also took my siblings, a family friend and me on my first national parks trip in years. We saw Saguaro, Great Basin and Capitol Reef. During the trip I’d grown my Goodreads library and soon enough uncovered the Libby app. The journey led me too to begin a pensive look back on my life. 

Summer in Reno (June–July 2O2O)

Dad remarried on June 6, 2020. Shortly thereafter, I relocated to Reno to help Pa and Stepma (“Tita”) handle copious amounts of yard work. With more time to reflect, I took up the request of a homebound friend to pray rosaries daily over the phone with him. 

Another friend of mine was going through a dark patch too but had a love of films. So each morning I’d rise early to see one of his recommendations then discuss it while working the yard if I wasn’t praying a rosary. I fondly recall the conversations while trimming plants, as I wander the Reno backyard even now. 

Near the same time, the friend and another encouraged me to tell my stories. So I began to write a memoir, on which he’d give feedback. The other friend had me appear on his podcast. Both experiences made the summer feel very whole. In memory of my first summer in Mongolia 2OI9, I also wrote a more detailed series on those experiences. [Arrival (June 2OI9), Meeting Host Family (July 2OI9), Summer’s End (August 2OI9)]

I celebrated my 23rd birthday in Vegas with an overnight vigil, praying 23 rosaries alone and with Catholic friends from around the globe. I felt such joy to reconnect meaningfully with so many across languages and cultures. Languages became a growing theme for me. I’d also begun again playing Pokémon GO after having not played since 2OI6. 

That summer, I finished seeing “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” (Season 7) as well as relevant bits from “Star Wars: Rebels.” I kept up with the Japanese episodes of “Pokémon Journeys: The Series.” Those, I’ve watched with English subtitles to know what’s happening. I’d also begun to read chapters of the Bible daily, at that time checking in weekly with an ol' friend. I started with Acts then Proverbs, Ephesians then Psalms. Meanwhile came Hebrews and John. Then were Ruth and Matthew. Now I read 1 Kings and Mark. I’d grown to appreciate both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles with renewed interest. 

Autumn Languages (August–September 2O2O)

Much of that fall, I was back in Reno. Yet, my younger brother had also come to Reno for his undergraduate fall semester. The guest room where I’d stayed quickly became his room, which left me a tad displaced. Still, I stuck through. Mornings, I rose early to read through a Latin textbook before daily conversations with a close friend who’d majored in classics as an undergrad.

Meanwhile, I’d stepped up to arrange meetings with Congressional lawmakers on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association. I’d also taken on roles within my alma mater Honors College and within the Social Justice Task Force for the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. I kept people organized and took notes during meetings. Meanwhile, my siblings and I had been starting a scholarship foundation, so I’d taken point on negotiating a partnership with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation. 

As a nice break, I joined friends I’d met in high school on their near-monthly trips to national and state parks. These sights included Lassen Volcanic, Burney Falls and Tahoe’s Emerald Bay. Realizing that I wouldn’t return to Mongolia that fall, I booked a Department of Motor Vehicles appointment to renew my learner’s permit—The earliest appointment would be in December. 

In entertainment news, I’d finished seeing “Queer Eye: We’re in Japan,” “Love on the Spectrum” and “Midnight Gospel.” I’d also started playing “Pokémon Masters EX” when I’d heard that it included characters from multiple generations. I enjoyed how the stories felt new yet nostalgic. 

National Park Winter (October, November, December 2O2O)

October was a great month for my spiritual life. I got to attend my youngest sister’s Confirmation. I enjoyed my first retreat in years. I also got to tape videos for my alma mater. 

Then I returned to Vegas some weeks to complete more yard work. I’d also relocated belongings in different rooms and was able to have my own bedroom back in Vegas. This gave me a decent space in which to work. From November, I’ve also been hosting weekly video calls to help Mongols from my community abroad continue to practice English. 

I’d also listened to Riordan audiobooks, “Blood of Olympus” and “Hidden Oracle,” and various authors’ financial literacy materials. By December, “Kafka on the Shore” was a real highlight. In Reno, I saw too “The Mandalorian” (Seasons 1–2), emphatically recommended by a friend with whom I’d hiked at Red Rock Canyon. My other friends and I reunited to try again at Crater Lake and succeeded. 

My siblings and I partnered with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation to launch our family LinYL Foundation to honor our late mother with scholarships for students. Though my formal role’s within outreach, I’ve done a fair bit of organizational leadership given my undergrad experiences. I’ve also been helping another non-profit start-up. Through it, I’ve gotten to meet alumni of overseas programs. 

My family celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas in Vegas with our stepsisters. I’d also celebrated American Independence Day with them. Christmas felt peculiar, as I’d returned from Mongolia to Vegas the Christmas before, too! 

Then my national parks friends and I hit a new record, seeing Walnut Canyon, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, Sedona’s Devil’s Bridge and the Grand Canyon. Having successfully renewed my learner’s permit, I scheduled my driving test for the earliest date—February. I returned to Reno and at New Year’s reunited with friends for whom I’d participated in their wedding the year before. 

Road to Rejuvenation (January–February 2O2I)

Following the U.S. elections came the presidential inauguration. I felt more at peace with the state of the nation after that. Though U.S. politics have absorbed media significantly throughout the pandemic, I felt relieved by the calls for unity and returns to political normalcy from Inauguration Day. 

Meanwhile, I sought to kick off 2O2I strong, with renewed optimism and control. I practiced driving almost daily. I’d seen “Daredevil” (Season 3) too and progressed in the Blue Lions story of my younger sister’s “Fire Emblem: Three Houses” copy. At February’s start, after years of challenges, I secured my driver’s license. 

Mid-February, my national parks friends and I saw Utah’s Mighty Five. Our trip spanned Canyonlands, Arches, Capitol Reef (different section), Escalante, Bryce Canyon and Zion. I got to help drive at the end from Vegas to Reno, a major milestone. 

Thanks to Discord, I attended a virtual alumni reunion of my high school alma mater. I experienced our school's recreation in “Minecraft: Java Edition,” wandering into the classroom where I used to play “Minecraft” as a freshman. In “RuneScape,” after 12 years on-off, I’d achieved level 99 in all but the newest skill. I'd even gotten the characters I wanted in “Pokémon Masters EX” and nearly finished my Kanto Pokédex in “Pokémon GO.” (I've never before completed a Pokédex.) 

I finished February recording music for my undergrad parish’s online edition to our annual performance for “Living Stations of the Cross.” I got to lector at and attend a friend’s baptism. I’d also soaked up my youngest sister’s boyfriend’s Disney+ again and saw “WandaVision” entirely. Its takes on grief and joy astounded. 

Social Justice (March 2O2I)

These bring me to where and how I am today. I write from Reno, Nev., where snow had fallen and the weather grown warmer. Spring is here. 

The announcement of increasing vaccines gave me lots of hope. Since I've lost so many people this past year to COVID-19 and other conditions I'm grateful that we may near the end. An email from and a check-in call with Peace Corps confirmed that summer would be the soonest I’m going back abroad. Still, I’ve kept in touch with my people in Mongolia. 

My older brother and his girlfriend moved into the Vegas house, so I haven’t felt as obligated to be there. Thus, I’ve focused more time on the church in Reno. 

A great fount of a spiritual joy for me has been getting to help lector for my college parish’s weekly Proclamations of the Word. I received particular acclaim for my reading from 2 Chronicles, for Lent’s Fourth Sunday, which delighted me. At the time I’d been reading 1 Kings, so I’d enjoyed recognizing parallels. In some ways the exercises are like a miniature college course. Beyond regular Sundays and Holy Week, I’d also lectored for such feast days as St. Joseph’s Day (March 19) and the Annunciation (March 25). 

My siblings’ and my family foundation chose our first year of recipients. It’s been an exciting process, reading and witnessing our inspiring candidates. I hope that I'll get to meet these students someday, but ah, the pandemic. 

I’ve gotten back into “Frozen II,” thanks to its authentic behind-the-scenes docuseries. I've also passed the one-year anniversary of my first seeing the film. Each morning I’ve sought to see something on Disney's platform—real' nice. 

Our psychological division’s presidential task force for Social Justice released our statement about the Capitol riots, which received strong critics but stronger supporters. Then came the Atlanta situation. 

In my U.S. Week 5I (Feb. 19–25), during a walk past the nearby elementary school, I’d had an unpleasant personal experience that led me to feel very grateful when the #StopAsianHate campaign began. I’ll likely share more later, but today’s blog story is about done. 

Hope and Easter 2O2I (April 2O2I)

At the last Adoration activity before Easter, our parish offered Reconciliation, so I returned again. Absolution offers such sweet cleansing for my mind and soul. Now Holy Week begins. I'm still lectoring, too! 

This summer, I hope to write more on my memoir. I’m still revising my research. I'm set to finish all five tiers of Duolingo Latin tomorrow. Then I'll get back to my textbook. 

I still delight in chatting with ol’ friends. My national parks homies and I will hit Redwood next weekend. Then my parish has Spring Retreat. I look forward to getting vaccinated in coming months then hugging folks forevermore. 

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course, chapter 1:

I started writing this story because I love Ivar, but disliked what he became. I loved him up to where Ragnar died, after that he became more of a villain than an anti-hero. For that, I wanted to give him a good hit of karma and figured making him a slave for Christians would be his worst nightmare. Before you continue reading, I’d like to address that the story will be graphic in the blood/guts/death/violence sense. I’m also aiming to get things as historically accurate as I can, but this is my hobby so if I make horrible mistakes, bear with me. 

Chapter 1) Changing Course .-.-.

Ivar had always been plagued by pain. Since the day he left his mother’s womb and drew his first breath, life had been an endless road of physical suffering. As a nursling, those insufferable muscle aches and stiff joints made him cry relentlessly. Endlessly. It would drive his brother’s up the walls; send their father overseas. He’d weep in his mother’s arms, only silenced by the warmth of her breast; his pain absorbing strength which turned him hungry. He’d endured remarkably, survived the first crucial years and eventually managed to tolerate the pain as part of his life. He learnt to see the inevitable suffering not as foe, but as an unwelcome acquaintance that needed to be ignored in order to get through the day. That mindset, combined with his stubbornness and willpower made it possible for him to keep his chin up and get through the day. It did not lessen his self loathing and envy towards his brothers. Blessed with strong and healthy bodies, their mere existence were three thorns in Ivar’s eye; the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok. The black sheep, the boneless; deformed from the waist down. 

His handicap planted a seed deep inside his chest and it spread all throughout his ribcage like poison ivy. It was blinding hate towards the world, to all who were capable to roam free and looked down upon him. Burdened by his physical limits his rage would at times rise high above his handicap, withstanding the pain to solemnly focus on destruction.  

Not a single soul forgot Ivar’s first victim. How he’d embedded his axe into the skull of another child. He remembered vividly how his tiny fist had trembled around the handle, how his mother pulled him tightly against her chest and rushed him inside. Hush dyrbare, she’d soothed him, her voice soft and warm, it’s not your fault, don’t feel regret, you are the son of Ragnar Lofthbrok, it’s only right for people to fear you. Her response was the only validation he needed. Ivar took the reassuring words of his mother to heart and smothered all forms of empathy. He was entitled to lash out to others and from that very young age Ivar found a coping mechanism; hurting the less fortunate. It wasn’t physically torture per se; his mother’s smothering grip enabled him to actually torture their thralls and peasants. He might be a useless prince, but he was a prince. His royal blood burdened him to keep their name up to certain standards, so purposely torturing their slaves was inexcusable. 

That did not mean Ivar would let any change go by to destroy the little belongings their thralls valued, pinch his nursemaid up to the point it left bruises, sink his teeth into ankles and throw a fit over the littlest of things. It was interesting to see that over time, he became quit infamous to the poor and powerless population of Kattegat. They saw him as a monster and that was much better than to be perceived as a crippled. So Ivar willingly took on the role of something dark and disgusting, he embraced being a monster.

His second act of bloodthirst happened during his pre pubescent years. The Seer had condemned a Christian to death by starvation. 

Curiosity made him crawl to their city centre in the middle of the night where he first observed the haggard form of a man, fiercely praying to it’s false God.

It was an offense, openly performing such devotion for it’s Christian God. Although the slave never laid an eye on him, Ivar resented the man with every fiber of his being. It wasn’t the poor man per say, that set him off, the poor thing simply represented defiance; praying to it’s Christian God in the centre of their town. What he later claimed as hate for the Christian, had simply been an excuse to unleash his rage. The wrath towards the entire world had been sprouting all throughout his chest and some of the roots must have reached his brain. Because what he did with his bare hands was inhuman. He destroyed the Christian, with his bare hands, knuckles and teeth. Like a meek lamb the man, awaited his death and did not fight when he was being slaughtered. It had been Ivar’s first intentional murder and it was hypnotic, addictive. Without empathy, it was easy to perceive the human body as a gigantic canvas; with endless possibilities. Destruction and pain was the purest form of art, of life itself. By ending it. Ivar loved every moment, every hair, teeth, every fiber of it. The iron taste of warm blood, the warmth of it running down his hands, chin and chest. He welcomed it, all of it and bathed in it. All for glory, all for Odin. All to make the world forget the crippled boy that wept for his mother’s warmth and see him for what he wanted to be. A monster, because he failed to perceive himself as a man, as an equal to his brothers. No, his weak legs would never place him in the same line as his brother’s. So, a monster then, was the second best choice. 

Ivar showed Kattegat another form of Boneless. At the first lights of dawn, the centre filled itself with exclamations of horrors and awe. The cobblestones were painted crimson and a flock of chickens were pecking at the intestines of the Christian. They lay spread throughout the centre, attracting flies and more bystanders. Ivar had just ripped out the tibia bones, leaving the muscles and skin lay wobbly and in a strange angle now that it’s inner skeleton had been removed. Ivar had been scraping the last bits of flesh from the bones with his fingernails when his mother appeared from the crowd and cried out in horror, falling down on her knees. 

From that day, his brothers looked at him differently. With disgust, yes, because he mauled the body of the Christian like a starved wolf. Which wasn’t far from the truth, honestly, he’d been hungry. Hungry for blood. And validation. 

From that day on, there was a hush whenever Ivar entered the Great hall, or any other place. Folks turned their head, acknowledged his presence. It was enough clarification for Ivar that being ruthless and malevolent paid off. Instead of being the handicapped son of Ragnar Lothbrok, he was the Christian slaughterer. Ivar the Boneless, now he was able to wear that byname with pride.

He’d carved pawns from the Christian’s bones and used them for his tafle game. During a game, he jokingly commented that he should’ve taken a knee bone too, it would have made an excellent king. Hvitserk chuckled uncomfortably, Sigurt’s eyes widened and Ubbe walked out. He’d loved it, pressing everyone’s buttons, making them uncomfortable and on edge. But eventually, his prepubescent act of monstrosity faded. 

That was why he felt blessed when their father asked him to join his raid in Wessex. Him, only him; Ivar the Boneless, joining their father on a raid. The Gods never favoured him and instead of glory, Ivar found despair. Their father, Ragnar Lothbrok willingly walked into the belly of the beast, with his hands raised high, unarmed and broken. Like a loyal dog, he’d crawled after his father, knowing full heartily in the castle of Wessex lay nothing but doom. Still, he’d rather die by his father’s side then end up dead in a ditch, from hunger and thirst. His father broke his promise, or rather King Egbert’s son did. The safe passage back home, which had been arranged turned out to be a lie. When he was dragged away from his father’s cell, a blunt object collided to the back of his head and pain temporarily blinded him. Quite helplessly, he’d been listening to Prince Aethelwulf arranging his deposit. The pain in the back of his head was severe. Pain throbbed so violently around in his skull that he wondered why it didn’t just crack open.

For the first day, the nausea was overwhelming, he could not keep anything down. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he lost track of time and place. Curled up, cradling his damaged skull he wished for his mother. Any form of light ravaged his brain, pounding, throbbing, like a rotting tooth right between the eyes. It took his sanity away, his coordination. The few altercation he had with Saxxons made him whimper and plead for salvation. But no relief came to his pain. Without power to fight back, Ivar found himself tossed into a ship hold, as if he were a sack of potatoes; nothing more than damaged cargo. The circumstances below deck were horrendous; human cattle packed up and wedged together as tightly as the overseers could cramp in. Ivar, half aware of his surroundings and halfway sliding into a deep pool of endless nothingness, flinched when fingers reached for his oath ring. A fist formed itself around his wrist like a bear trap and with that, the last bits of his hereditary was ripped off of him. The leather protecting his fragile lower limbs, gone, taken too. His necklace, also gone. Even his shoes and tunic were worth taking. The overseers sniggered at the sight of Ivar’s weak attempt to intervene and shoved him aside, like a thing. Like a nothing.

Their journey overseas started although Ivar wasn’t aware, which in his case was a good thing. The onerous space was filled up to the max, with minimal resources. There was barely any light, no personal space. Water was scarce and so was food. Hygiene became a problem after the ship set it’s sails and some of the unlucky ones got seasick. It did not take long for the cramped out area to turn into a sewage; the stench and heat insufferable. 

Ivar withstood the trials in silence, cradling his head in a fetal position. The pain in his head was all consuming. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the pain to go away. Over and over, until in the end, the rest of the world became detached. 

He could barely hear the people around him. Some prayed in foreign tongues, others whimpered. Somewhere afar, a young child cried. 

Eventually, he drifted into sleep, waking up by a sudden toss aside. Cries were lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead. Their cage of wood and sails was mercilessly thrown into a storm. The waves resolutely grew in size. Their vessel rode the mighty swelling sea like a child’s toy, no longer controlled by the hands of men. 

The inhabitants below deck were violently thrown from the far end of the hold to the other. Bodies were being trampled, panic spread like the plague, festering into each and everyone’s head. Violence roamed among the poor souls in captivity in order to breathe. 

At one point, Ivar found himself suffocating. Never had he wished more for land, to feel the sweet green grass of his home against the palms of his hands. The sea, it felt like his rage from within. Like punishment, ready to tear itself through the wooden construction to claim their souls. His mother’s prophecy would come true. He would drown and never enter Valhalla, because there was no honour in this poor death. To be dragged down to the bottom of the sea with countless slaves. There was nothing heroic nor royal about this death. This was not the end of a Prince, yet it seemed inevitable. And although he fought the feeling with every last bit of strength he could muster, Ivar was petrified. For the cold water to seize his body, for his lungs to fill up with water, to feel his life slowly ebb away.  

In between the lightning, darkness prevailed. In between the darkness there were flashes of his fellow unfortunate souls, their faces overcome with terror. 

‘Is it Odin’, Ivar thought, ‘fighting with the Christian God?’ Was this his fault, for it was him who’d coldly, bloodily mauled a defenseless Christian? 

‘Please Odin, the All-father, do not allow a Viking prince to die such an unworthy death,’ Ivar pleaded, ‘if I survive this storm I promise you, I will make it worth your while.’ 

As sudden as the storm erupted, it disappeared. Along the dawn of morning, the ship anchored ashore. 

Sunlight burned his eyes, blinding Ivar momentarily as the portholes were pulled open by the overseers. Orders were being shouted in unfamiliar tongues, for those who weren’t familiar with the language, there was the beating of a whip. The human cargo was expected to exit the ship, rather sooner than later. 

Few bodies remained lifeless, passed away due to suffocation. One by one they were removed by the overseers; by simply being thrown off the ship. There was no honor, nor time to bury a slave.

When one of the overseers took hold of Ivar’s curled up body, he was surprised to find the slave to be alive. Surprise was rapidly replaced by irritation. Lashing his whip he struck Ivar across the face, making the poor young man hiss and hide his face. 

The overseer signaled another member of his crew to lend out a helping hand. Both grabbed Ivar underneath his armpits and dragged him up his feet. 

Both men grunted in annoyance when their slave immediately dropped back on the floor. One chuckled and nudged against Ivar’s deformed legs. The other one let out a long impatient sigh and kicked Ivar’s arms right from under him. 

Ivar’s chin merely had time to hit the wooden floor, before a familiar boot planted itself onto Ivar’s spinal cord, taking his breath away. 

The other overseer sank down on his knees, a knife playing between his fingers. Though rust had set on the handle and blade, it was strong and jagged, enough to cut a throat. 

The tip of the knife pressing against Ivar’s  Adam’s apple prevailed the pain in his head, the stiffness of his limbs and the heavy weight on top of him. 

“I can crawl you croaked-nosed bastard,” Ivar snarled, his hands bracing to carry his upper body. The overseers must have found it amusing, seeing him squirm on the floor like a spider being squished. To exaggerate Ivar’s deride, the boot placed on his back moved up to in between his shoulder blades, pressing him down firmly. 

The boiling rage inside of him, swept through his system, like an old favoured friend patting him on the back. 

In effort to remain silent Ivar gritted his teeth, his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists too hard. His eyes squeezed closed as his face contorted and he placed his palms down onto the splintery floor. Arching his back, the pain rushed through his body like an igniting fire, but he would withstand it, even if it was the last thing he’d do. Inch by inch, he pressed himself up while another man’s weight pressed him down. With every inch, his demolished resilience sparked back up and inwardly he roared when the overseer took the boot off his back, allowing him to carry his crippled arse out of this hellhole. 

Crawling like a worm from a bird, he climbed up the steps, one by one, while sweat trickled down his face and his right eye twitched from the explosive pain inside his damaged skull. 

On the upper deck, he briefly sank against a barrel, allowing his lungs to fill up with the salty fresh breeze. Grey clouds roamed freely above – hindering the sun and its warmth. 

Once Ivar caught his breath and expelled the headache to the far end of his brain, he risked a peek over the railing. 

Dejection curled around his chest with the grip of an iron straight jacket. The ship had anchored at a small harbour, bedded near a murky dirt road. A long line of future slaves were staggering towards carts pulled by mules. One man’s sanity must have drowned during the storm, the poor bastard broke the line and made a run for it. 

He did not get far, an armed horse rider strode after him, stabbing a spear through his neck. There was no escape, at least not now. 

And so Ivar the Boneless, son of King Ragnar Lothbrok, found himself obeying the commands of Christians, lost in a faraway land while his father was at the mercy of a mendacious king. His mother presumed him to be dead, lifeless at the bottom of the sea. So there wouldn’t be a soul looking for him. 

He came to Essex as a Prince, for fame and glory; yet resurrected as a nameless, crippled slave. Oh, the Gods played him the most lousy cards of all. 

.-.-.

A/N: So this was chapter one of my Ivar fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear what you think of it so far. As I’m still very much on Ivar’s side, I’d like to point out that yes he murdered a person in a gruesome way, but he basically did it for validation. Ok, yes that fact might make it even worse, but the way I see it is that Ivar desperately wants to become ‘something’, that he’d rather be a monster than be the person he is. 

And now he’s not even a monster anymore, now he’s just a slave, that’s karma baby. 

Xoxox Nukyster 

[rainafoxfire]

Sannion has suggested that many people are in need of some direction as to starting or maintaining a devotional practice. I am perhaps not the best guide in that my own practice is rather personalized and idiosyncratic. However, I thought I would give some examples of what I do nonetheless, in case it helps anyone. (Though please, please don’t just copy my examples unless they are truly directly relevant to your own practice and spiritual relationships – rather, use this as a way to spark ideas for the types of things you might do yourself. Devotional practice should be personal, and arise from your own understanding of and history with your deities.) Some folks recently have described a single day in their practice, but each day is too different for me to do it that way. I don’t have many daily practices other than following certain taboos, a few simple things I always wear or do as I go about my day, that sort of thing. More and more, I have been led to a free-flowing sort of approach that tunes in and responds to the forces around me, rather than executing a pre-planned set of actions. This is actually trickier to do well, a balancing act. Ideally, it should lead to more devotional practice and magic, not less. I think I am only ready for this now because I spent so many years building a foundation. One thing that helps me keep the balance is my schedule of holy days. Each month, certain days (calculated by the lunar calendar) are set aside to focus on certain gods or spirits. Right now, I have eight of these, but I’m always in the process of refining it. This ensures that I never go too long without giving Someone their due. It also keeps a sort of rhythm to my spiritual life, going through the cycle over and over. Added to this are festival days (which involve more elaborate and specific rituals and activities), which are more unevenly scattered across the year. Of course, even on a day with no special focus, I might end up doing major ritual or trancework. But here are some of the smaller things I do more often to maintain and deepen my devotional relationships. Prayer Beads – I have a set of prayer beads I made about 5-6 years ago, where each god or spirit or group of spirits in my “personal pantheon” is represented by a different, symbolic bead (amber for Apollon, lava rock for chthonic Trophonios, etc.). I usually take these out on my walk to work in the mornings. I do not have set prayers. Often I simply pause at each bead and hail the entity, and perhaps talk to Them extemporaneously for a bit. Sometimes I ask for help with something, give thanks, etc. Sometimes I go through and with each one mention a certain type of thing sacred to Them, or recall the last devotional act I did for Them, or the next I plan to do, or something of that sort – almost a game, meant to keep my mind on these things. I find this practice nicely centers me in my web of divine relationships. Clothing, Jewelry & Hair – On holy days, I always pay attention to what I wear, choosing the colors associated with that deity, and anything else that seems appropriate. No matter what day, there are certain colors and fabrics that are off-limits to me, and everything I wear must align with the aesthetics of my spirits (which have slowly become my own for the most part, but definitely didn’t start out that way). Every day, I braid my hair in some way – this began several years ago as a temporary devotional practice for one of my spirits, just something to be noticeable and remind me of him each day, but then I felt strongly that I should keep doing it, and I think of the braids as intertwining myself with my gods and spirits. It is also significant to choose to make that more important than any personal preferences as to how I wear my hair. I also choose my jewelry carefully – every single piece I own has meaning, usually directly connected to a specific entity, and which pieces I wear each day are my statement of intent. No matter what else, if I go outside the house I am wearing a ring for my Husband and one for Dionysos, and when I am in my home “alone” I wear a second ring for my Husband. I wear a small piece of jewelry when I go to bed each night to connect with my dream-spirit. I also have stretched ears, which I did on request from my spirits to symbolically open my hearing to Their voices, and only wear a few simple sets of plugs, having given up pretty earrings as a sacrifice. (I also have nearly 30 devotional tattoos which state my allegiances in a permanent manner on my skin, but while I have them every day, obtaining one is obviously a more special occasion.) Images and Playlists – I keep a large folder of images that I find beautiful or powerful on my computer. I have them sorted into various folders, including ones for most of my gods and spirits. My usual screensaver is a random slideshow of all these images (since my computer is on for hours each day usually, it’s a nice way to be reminded of Them, and also useful occasionally for divination), but on holy days I set it to just the folder of that specific entity. Likewise, I keep playlists of music for each of Them and play them on Their holy days or when doing any sort of ritual for Them. I revise both of these periodically, as my relationships and understandings of Them change over time. Shrines – I have shrines for all of my gods and spirits in my house, but some get a lot more use than others. Most are just placeholders of sorts, making a space in my home for Them and an appropriate place to leave offerings if necessary, but not a focus of worship, as a lot of my worship is done outdoors. The shrines for my Husband and Dionysos however have cushions in front of them and I often sit in front of the “activated” shrine (when the candles and incense are lit) and pray and commune with Them. All my shrines developed organically over many years – the items on them tend to have deep significance and I periodically review them to make sure they still represent my current view of Them. I try to personalize anything mass manufactured (for example, by painting common statuary), and mostly focus on unique items that have a history with us, even though those are usually much less spectacular (for instance, the small lump of white marble I found on the shores of Naxos on Dionysos’ shrine, or the bowl of unusual coins I have slowly accumulated for Hermes, or the special ritual pipe for my Husband made from a bone of His sacred animal). On holy days, I light up the appropriate shrine while I am home. But I also often do this whenever I’m feeling Their presence, or want to invite Their presence. Especially at night in a darkened house, the glow of the shrine draws all focus there. Physical Offerings – I make both traditional and personal offerings to the gods regularly. At the very least, I do this on Their holy days, but with my core group I do it more often. These might include things like: alcohol (paying attention to both the type and even the picture on the label), flowers, incense, coins, stones, food, drink, etc. Each one has a wide variety of sacred symbolism to draw on. So I might pour out Stone IPA beer for Hermes, or leave figs on Dionysos’ shrine, or lay out a piece of honeycomb for the nymphs in some numinous spot outdoors. Aside from the shrines, repositories for my offerings might include bits of wild nature throughout the city, special trees or stones, the creek, or I might leave something on the street or at a crossroads, especially if it is for Hermes or might double as a glamourbomb for someone. Activities – On holy days, and sometimes on other days that feel imbued with the presence of a certain god or spirit, I try to tailor every activity to Them – what book I read, what movie I watch, even what errands I do. I might save a shopping trip for Hermes’ day, or go out dancing on Dionysos’ day. I’ll start reading a book about sleep on the day for my dream-spirit, or start an art project on the day for my collective spirits who are closely tied to my artwork. I clean the house on the last couple days of the lunar month, in accordance with the practice of taking out the sweepings on Hekate’s deipnon. Miscellaneous – I say a special prayer to Dionysos each time I consume any kind of intoxicant. On the full moon, I smudge all the animal spirits who live in my house in the form of pelts, taxidermy and bones. I only smoke cigarettes for ritualistic purposes in very precise circumstances, as per the taboo laid down by my spirits (or else I get rather ill). On certain holy days, I do not eat meat, due to Their wishes. On Apollon’s day, I have a special set of taboos and actions due to the oracular work. Almost all of my non-fiction reading is religious in nature, either overtly or somehow related to one of Their interests.  I am constantly open to receiving any omens or communications They might send me as I go about my day; I pay attention to things I see when I’m thinking of Them especially. I do divination when I need to know what They want or am not sure I’m receiving a message properly (and I find choosing the method of divination to be important in itself – runes for Odin of course, a fairytale Tarot deck for my spirits, a Greek mythology deck for my primary deities, etc.). Hopefully that’s enough to paint a general picture of my approach to devotional practice. I would very much like to see more people writing about what they do.

Dver, author of https://forestdoor.wordpress.com/

[popwasabi]

“The Other Guys” wants cops to go after the real criminals

Before director/writer Adam McKay pivoted into populist screed’s against capitalism and political corruption in films like “Vice” and “The Big Short” he was largely known as one of the many “dumb comedy” directors working in Hollywood.

In fact, with major productions such as “Anchorman,” “Talladega Nights,” and “Step Brothers” he could almost be billed as THE dumb comedy director or certainly THE Will Ferrell director at least.

(To a certain extent, THE John C. Reilly director too.)

Those movies are certainly divisive amongst some filmgoers, as you either fall into the “turn your brain off and laugh” category or the “this is pure nonsense” crowd. I’m somewhat in the middle on all of it but one McKay/Ferrell vehicle provided a bridge between the “dumb comedy” years and his more serious satires of American politics and that movie was 2010’s “The Other Guys.”

Billed as just another parody of buddy cop flicks, “The Other Guys” is a comedy that still holds up pretty well by today’s standards. Mark Wahlberg in many ways plays an unhinged caricature of every tough guy persona he has ever played in detective Hoitz and perhaps more brilliantly Ferrell, as detective Gamble, is allowed to be the straight man of the duo for change, finding humor in a more subdued performance. Together they form a kinetic duo that play hilariously well off each other in a film that is rarely dull from start to finish.

(Flawless logic here in the famous Tuna vs Lion debate)

“The Other Guys” takes some decent shots at the violent nature of cop culture from excessive police overreach in the film’s hilarious opening scene to cops’ shoot first ask questions later approach with detective Hoitz backstory involving shooting Dereck Jeter during game 7 of the World Series. In between more typical Ferrell comedy flare involving hot wives and ex-wives, hobo sexy orgies, and TLC references there’s a lot of pointed, tongue-in-cheek humor at the police that one can find great humor in.

It’s a descent satire of the cop movie and the culture around law enforcement on this alone but McKay’s real target isn’t the police so much as it is who the police aren’t going after.

(For the record, peacocks and cops, for that matter, don’t fly.)

2008 probably feels like eons ago to many of you at this point but it was the year I personally came of age. I had graduated high school, The Lakers were good again, “The Dark Knight” and “Iron Man” had just come out, I had hopes and dreams as I entered college at San Jose State and oh…the Great Recession had just started!

I’m not going to go into extreme detail here but our economy had it’s worse collapse since the Great Depression caused by the subprime mortgage crisis due to vast widespread failures in financial regulation, breakdowns in corporate governance, vast trading and over borrowing, housing bubbles bursting, and heads of businesses just vastly ill-equipped to handle their hubris in that moment.

Major businesses and banks were on the verge of collapsing and then at the last minute the US government passed a $700 billion, with a capital B, bailout to put them all back in the green.

Corporations like Bank of America, Citi Group, Morgan Stanley etc received between $10-$25 billion each for their struggles and were able to stay alive in the country’s ever worsening state. This was great, except 2.6 million average working-class people lost their jobs during this period, including my father.

By the way, a guy like Joseph Casano, an executive at AIG, got a $34 million bonus for helping lead companies such as his into the recession.

This is McKay’s real target in “The Other Guys.” The satirical cop humor is largely window dressing to draw audiences in to the theaters so that he can show all of them who the real criminals of this country are.

As the plot of the story starts to kick into full gear the more obvious culprits of a typical Hollywood cop movie are dismissed. Though Hoitz is convinced it’s more the usual cop movie style villains of “sex and drug traffickers” at first, Gamble slowly pieces together a plot of dastardly insider trading. What it ends up being is that the bad guy is really just a doofus hedge fund manager named David Ershon played comically by Steve Coogan who made one too many bad investments to bad people.

Ershon has put his people and the people he owes money to deeper into the red, not at all unlike the wealthy CEOs and bankers who messed up the country during the 2008 recession, and it has led him to take desperate action to get everyone’s money back. Ershon, of course, tries to get Hoitz and Gamble off his tale by bribing them in a variety of hilarious ways (one of the funnier sequences of the film) but eventually gets caught up with the SEC and those who prosecute white collar crime (who are unsurprisingly also in bed with the people he owes money to).

(Somehow, I don’t think this is far off from reality...)

Hoitz and Gamble continue on the case but find that taking on white collar crime is…complicated to say the least but most importantly ineffectual as detailed in this scene.

(Again, probably not far off from reality...)

The 2008 recession, wiped out millions of jobs, with rural parts of the country getting hit the hardest and in many ways still feeling the effects today. If you were a POC you were even more unlikely to not recover from the crash. Property values plummeted, student high education success rates dropped, opiod overdoses from “unemployment deaths” and many more awful things happened during this period of great economic distress.

And what happened to the folks largely responsible for causing this mess? They got a fat fucking payday and a dismissive finger wag largely by our own government.

“The Other Guys,” more or less, ends the same way. Despite putting away Ershon, the company he was swindling, who gambled their people’s money, was still bailed out by the US government. A real “happy ending” that is played as a dark, matter of fact, joke before the credits roll.

(Again, we laugh but how far off from reality is this really?...)

I graduated from college in 2013, tens of thousands in debt from student loans and trying to navigate a largely bereft job market where wages had largely not changed in as many years. In 2008 average rent cost about $850 a month, by 2013 it was $953, today in 2020 it’s $1,097. The average entry level salary (for a clerical/ office professional) between 2008 and 2018 went from $46,886 to $45,882 showing a decrease in value.

In 2008 the richest man in the world, Warren Buffet, was worth $64 billion. The richest man in 2020, Jeff Bezos, is worth $200 billion.

If the fact that Jeff Bezos is worth more than some countries on this planet doesn’t make you infuriated alone I don’t know what will.

Btw Buffet’s net worth increased as well to $79 billion himself, in case you think it’s “unfair” to compare him to Bezos.

Sometimes I think the reason people aren’t angrier about this worldwide is 1) a bunch of us think we are all one hard working day away from being filthy fucking rich ourselves, one of the many great lies of capitalism and 2) many of us don’t actually know just how big a BILLION dollars is, so here let me help you all out:

With COVID in 2020 we’re seeing it all happen again, just as it did in 2008. Record unemployment rates, small businesses closing, evictions skyrocketing because no one can pay rent and all we got for it was a $1,200 band-aid (assuming you did get yours). Meanwhile billionaire slugs like Bezos and Elon Musk saw their net worth rise sharply during this period, hell even the fucking Lakers got a $4.6 million dollar “small business” loan (though they did return it…only after getting caught…).

The highest sum of cash ever stolen from a bank was $18.1 million (equivalent to roughly $30.1 million now) in 1997. These are the people cops and other “loose cannons” in popular actions movies are usually running up against. If you think stealing $30.1 million is a lot of money worth sending the cops over then $700 billion of our own tax dollars given to people who ruined the lives of millions of Americans should make you fucking furious. The only real difference here is one was made legal by our own elected government.

Adam McKay’s “The Other Guys” may be on its surface just another “dumb comedy” that mostly satirizes cops, but its villains are very real and unfortunately as American as apple pie. Under capitalism our labor only continues to get devalued every year (even the skilled positions), while the richest 1% of the human race only get fatter with their wealth. Things are only getting more expensive and the working man is getting priced out of more and more daily luxuries and even essentials. This way of life is not sustainable, especially for our environment which these dragons continue to plunder, and eventually we will need to actually hold our overlords accountable for letting it get this far.

If we don’t, they will continue to steal every penny in our pocket and bleed us dry until the next disposable drone can fill our place. If law enforcement won’t take this on, sooner or later we might have to…

Remember, pimps don’t cry...

[wallstoothin]

A Bouquet Instead of a Goodbye

fixed up one of my fics

Akechi Goro’s body was eventually found, it was tucked away in some bush near the diet building. His eyes wide, broken, and very very dead. A proper autopsy showed a bullet hole on his forehead and a matching exit hole at the back of his head. There were also small cuts and bruises all over his body, their origin unknown. Some speculate that the detective was held hostage and eventually killed due to the lack of cooperation from the police department. Others said that it was from an old grudge from a case he did long ago. A situation like these happens in movies all the time. Who's to say it can’t happen in real life.

The one who found him was an ordinary gardener, the bush was growing wild and it was about the time to trim it. Based on the news the gardener ran all the way to the police station unable to utter a word and completely forgetting about the phone in his pocket, dragging the poor rookie all the way to the body. It was said by some sources that the young man almost threw up on the dead body.

The world mourned before they started pointing fingers because that’s what society does best. But the search for the culprit ended as soon as it started. His father, the disgraced politician  who had abandoned his son long before his birth, has admitted in prison that he had plans of killing him. The news ate it up. 

Akira found out from the comfort of his home, watching the evening news as he brushed Morgana’s hair. He could only stare at the dead body on the screen as his phone rang beside him. The news censoring the blood and gore as an announcer talked about Akechi. Later announcing that there would be a short thirty minutes special celebrating the life and accomplishment of Goro Akechi coming soon. There will also be a live funeral for him, his remains would be going under Shido’s family tomb for the sake of tradition. No one cared over the fact that it was Shido who ruined the young man’s life and set him up for a path of self destruction and ruins. And the fact that Akechi would most likely protest. But no one heard him, he’s dead after, and the dead don’t speak.

He can feel Morgana’s paws clawing at his shirt trying to get his attention, his phone just as whiny as his feline friend was also going off. Akira let out a sigh, reaching towards the remote and turning off the television with a small ‘click’ from the power button. He ignored Morgana’s questions of ‘Are you ok’ and the constant calls and messages from his friends. He stood up and brushed off any lingering cat hair that stuck to his pants and legs making a mental note of vacuuming sometime later before he get in trouble with his parents and head to his room.

He needs to do some research.

Akira has never attended a funeral before, he’s been invited to a few sometime during elementary and middle school but he never went. He wondered if his sister in heaven hates him for never going to hers. Akira also wonders what Akechi would think when he told Morgana and everyone else that he has no plan of turning into Akechi’s public funeral or when he decline the invitation Sae-san send him through email an hour after. 

That funeral is for the detective prince, a mask that Akechi wore in order to feel some semblance of love. But in the end that love was too distant for the dead man. Akira can see it right now, thousands of young girls watching as the black car pass by as they cry, some holding on to their handkerchief while others scream their confession out loud for the world but not Akechi to hear. Akira feels that he would not be able to stand going to a funeral like that. From what he heard, Haru and Futaba also decline going to the event. He hasn't heard from everybody else but he suspects that Ryuji might skip as well. 

He let out another tired sigh as he stared at his old laptop screen, he still had things to do. But at this rate he’ll be up all night. Akira can hear the rant Morgana have in store for him later but maybe if he play his card right he should be able to stay up late. He later watched Morgana eat his fatty tuna, his wallet clutch in his hand. His wallet was looking slightly lonelier but at least he got what he want.

A week passed and life went on as usual. The public forgot about the incident until the funeral where the name Akechi Goro is once again trending on the net. On the day of the funeral Akira left the house at five am, making sure to leave a note behind for Morgana to read. No need to leave anything for his parents. 

The walk from his house to the train station was long but he was unsure if the bus even operate at this time and like hell is he going to leave his bike near the station. Even in the city there are times where the train comes few and the buses fewer so he can’t really complain about it being just a ‘countryside problem’. He have no choice but to take the long route.

 It gave him even more time to reflect. Since he’s been back in his sleepy hometime that’s all he can do without being given a strange glance or an ugly look. Everything was quiet in his hometown even during the afternoon where everyone would be out of school and shopping around but it would still be quiet, no sound this town could make would ever compare to the Shibuya crossing and for some reason it irks him. Which led to a new habit of wearing headphones around his neck in case things get too quiet around, of course another good substitute is Morgana who enjoys chatting about the things he sees or other small topics that he demands Akira pay attention to. 

By the time he made it to the train station the sky had turned from a murky blue to a bright and sunny one. The train station was empty save for the workers and a few people in suits. It was still early after all. Had Akira decided to leave the house two hours later the station would be filled with people and many more inside the train. He did not want to be seen today. Akira checked his phone to look at the time. He still have another two hours before he reaches Shibuya, still a lot of time to spare. It was probably best to check the group chat before the rest of the gang do something stupid. 

Akira:

I’m alright guys don’t worry

The replies he got were all the same asking if he was really alright and if he need someone to come over. He’s been offline for days and now that he gets a good look at his notification he can see that his messaging app has over a few hundred unread messages.

 He softly smiled, the feeling of warmth covering his chest. He loved his friends. They cared for him more than anyone else in his life and he will do anything for them. 

Akira:

I’m sorry for not answering all you calls

And texts. My family has been busy.

He added a cute frowny emoji for good measure.

Akira:

I won’t be online for the rest of the day

Sorry! Talk to you all later

He felt bad lying to his friends. But today he’s on a solo mission. He doesn’t want anyone else to be with him. He hopes they can understand. Akira slips his headphones back on and lean back in his seat, his hand reaching out and pulling the blinds so they fully cover the window and for the rising sun light stays out of his eyes. His destination is still a long way. A quick nap before then couldn’t hurt. 

===

The news mentioned him once today. It was more of a passing comment from a news channel that barely talked about him when he was alive treats him just the same dead. The big screen on the building creates white noise behind the already loud Shibuya. He knows he shouldn’t dawdle, who knows how everyone will react if he takes too long to answer back. He doesn't want to worry them ever again. 

An aggravated sigh escaped his lips. Today is not about him. He shouldn’t be selfish today of all days. He needs to quickly transfer trains before someone spots him and distracts him from his task. 

He reaches into his pocket expecting his train pass to be in there, he doesn't have any money in the card at the moment but it should make entering and leaving the station much easier as soon as he refills it.

And his pocket is empty. 

Guess in the end he has to buy a ticket. Yippie. 

Putting paying extra aside-he still have some metaverse money that he split evenly between the team long after their last heist and a short while before his departure. In the end everyone received a good amount of cash and after a long lecture from Makoto went mostly to saving so wasting five hundred yen for a round trip shouldn't hurt his bank account at all. 

The train in Shibuya is much busier than the one he took from his hometown. He scoffs, Of course it’s busier everyone here is always busy doing their own thing and living their own lives. It was almost disturbing to see how quickly city folks move from one topic to another especially after seeing the public’s one track mind on the Phantom thieves and Akechi but that was all due to the influence of the false God. Now that everyone is free, everything went back to the same boring way it was before. 

The city charm has long died out somewhere along his journey. But it was better than the countryside for sure, as a third year he now have to worry about college and future plans. Whatever it is he hopes he can do it by his friends’ side and not alone. 

There was a soft melody on the overhead, that must be his train. He stepped aside as the people leaving rushed out, and as soon as the last person exited he made his move. He quickly glanced around the cart, there’s no empty seats how unlucky considering he’ll have to stand for another thirty minutes . The train was filled with sleeping salarymen and bored elderly. He knows he’s not getting a seat anytime soon. He pulled out his phone and opened the music app. He never liked the waiting game but hopefully music can make time go by faster.

-

Akira also dislikes being squeezed to the point he can feel his ribs but being in Tokyo comes with a price. The train was not that packed compared to the early morning rush that he dealt with every morning for the past year. But not being able to pull out his phone to change the song, has made the trip much longer than expected, when Akira pushed his way out of the train he let out a huge sigh in relief. It was a good thing he decided to buy the supplies on this stop, the last thing he need is to feel the glares of fellow passengers over spilt water and crushed petals all over someone’s over expensive suit.

A sponge, a small box of incense, small candles along with two canned coffee . He ignored the sad look the cashier passed him as she was ringing him up. Did he have everything he needed? He thinks he does but if he did forget something then there are sure to be a convenience store nearby. He still have some time before the next bus comes, maybe he can buy a triple seven chicken and gobble it down. 

As he step out of the store he paused in his step. Flowers ! How could he have forgotten about the flowers especially since he was complaining about it earlier. He open up his metaverse free navigator. It was still too early but there should be one place that’s open right? He grin widely after finding out that yes there is a place nearby that’s already open. A small family run store instead of the big corporate one that he worked in once before. Hopefully they can help him pick up the perfect bouquet for him. 

An hour later and a few thousand yen emptier, Akira finally reach the grounds.

The hike up the hill was just as stressful as the trip getting there, he nodded to the monk who was sweeping and headed over to the sink and grabbed one of the available pail filling it with water and started making his way up the hill. It took awhile for Akira to find the right grave, he did not have an exact location and it was not like the monk at the entrance knew each place by heart, so Akira had to walk pass each individual family grave until he found one that was covered with dirt and weed. 

Here it is. Abandoned and left alone like the people who’s spirit left there. He put down the bucket gently on the floor and reach for the sponge making sure the sponge took up as much water as possible before reaching toward the grave, the name which was hidden after years of abandonment shine in the sun. He smiles as he dip the sponge in the water again. 

--

Cleaning the grave back to its former glory took about an hour, cleaning around the graves like pulling out the weed and disposing of old flowers took about half. By then Akira was covered with dust, dirt and sweat and in need of a good soak. But it was far from over, setting up the candle and incense shouldn’t have been a problem. He done it many times before, but it took a few broken one and a sip of water before he was satisfied with the white smoke in the air. Akira then reached for the flowers and carefully placed them in their placeholder. ‘Done’ he thought to himself. After seeing his parents prepare the family grave each summer he thought it would be easy but it was a lot more work than what he expected. It must be the heat.

He then took out the canned coffee already lukewarm from staying in the heat the whole time and placed it right under the engraved name. Akira then put his hands together, closed his eyes and talked. 

When he opened his eyes again it was already dark and his neck was burning from standing outside for too long. His voice was hoarse from talking too much but it was not like he talked much in the first place. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tie that was frayed and wrinkled with the lack of proper care.  

Akechi’s body was long gone. His ashes spread over a name he hated all his life. By spreading the last part of him to a place where he wanted to rest would make him happy, right? He pulled out a lighter and slowly moved it towards the tie.

Akechi loved his mother didn’t he? So Akira should do this one last favor and help guide him to her. But- his hand shake as the fire slowly touched the end of the tie. He quickly turned off the flame before it take more of the tie than it already had. 

He can’t

Akira bit the end of his lips internally scolding himself. This is not about him, this is about Akechi. He shouldn't be selfish . It was selflessness that saved the world before, the options he had before when he was allowed to be selfish would have ended up in ruins. Even now after defeating the false gods, the golden rule still applies. He should hurry up and burn it up already !

He drop the lighter on the floor and clutch the tie in his hands tightly. One day, one day he’s sure that this decision is going to bite him back. It might even haunt him for the rest of his life. But it was unfair, he was still a kid, he should be allowed to grieve the way he wants to. He stare sadly at the grave in front of him. Akechi is probably mocking him. A sentimental fool. He wouldn’t mind hearing him sneer one last time. 

Akira let out a wet chuckle and wiped his eyes erasing any evidence of tears that was forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to visit again soon.” He said as he stood up, making sure to grab the bucket and sponge, leaving no garbage behind as he walked back down the hill and back home. 

A03 Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458830