#and most of the people around me find it unreasonable but ot is what it is

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

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[littledigits]

reblogging cuz good topic of convo - not so much about the specifics of the production but the unintentional pressure that can lead us to overwork/do ghost hours.  honestly , working in animation - this is a common story not because its the worst nightmare or a worse case senario..., but because a lot of productions go through things that can cause vast differences between people. I've worked on shows where people felt very taken advantage of, and equally other people had a different experience that they enjoyed. Its very much an issue that is woven through the entire industry.  

Its really good to ask questions and talk to people about their experiences, because they do vary ! For example I used to talk up one show I worked on as being treated well...only to find that the team that was a country away had a very different experience and vice/versa the opposite when people find out some shows i’ve worked on havent been managed well. Even on the same project , departments can have wildly different experiences.  

One thing that I have learned , being a person who tells people not to do overtime and finding out they did it anyway - is the power dynamic and the pressure that is ingrained in all artists and how it can be compounded. I have found that my words telling people to not work overtime is not as powerful as the language I use throughout the project, the environment we are in and the mindset of people around me. 

if i act like the sky is falling my team will absorb that - even if i follow it up with telling them to not work overtime. If i ask people to ‘push’ and to ‘do their best‘ but do it without working overtime..for many of them they dont know the difference because they have been conditioned to do so from as early as college. Many people feel like they have to ‘pay their dues’ either cuz they are new to the industry or are new to a project with a lot of expectations behind it.  Basically, its something that people are conditioned to do over time. (some maybe not , but there are a lot of places in the industry that encourage this so its within most people to not take the ‘dont do unpaid overtime’ thought as just lipservice and still feel pressure )  Its been years of me telling people to not do ghost hours, and they still do it. Its something we do need to be cautious of, but at the same time I do think that leaders in the industry have to take a bigger part in the environment and the culture change. The reality is , a lot of higher ups will say nothing because they do benefit off of artists giving into that pressure. Out of sight out of mind 

do NOT give into doing ghost hours.( out of pressure/fear/heck even for fun cuz you really like a scene..) it  leads to scope creep like heck and gives unreasonable expectations of your output. 

if you are in a position of power make sure you NOT ONLY tell people not to do ghost hours, but you create an environment where you practice what you preach and you have leaders around you that do the same. 

everything people are hearing about working conditions have been pretty par for the course across so many projects in studios across the world ,and its true not all are as bad as they seem ! but a lot of the problems still stem from the same place -which is product over people, lack of sustainability , lack of team leadership. Which in and of itself is not an animation thing - just a job thing -.  edit : if i can just add a lil addendum. my father told me that people wont remember 'me' , but they will remember how i made them feel. people are responding to environments - not words. If there is an environment of pressure they will respond to that. When people talk about working OT often times its not just the hours, but it is the pressure to succeed. This is why its so important to stay strong and not put any project up on a pedestal, and to remember that the people around you may be reacting this way -but it doesnt mean YOU have to. you will hardly ever hear someone asking you outright to do unpaid overtime - so if you think thats the issue that aint it haha. So be aware that its everything around you, not just the words, that can make you unintentionally push yourself to burn out when you think its just the nature of the job.

hi!!!! there been news articles saying that the working conditions of spiderverse were rlly rlly bad to the point of 100 ppl quitting or someting…. sorry to be liek an annoying reporter and b kinda invasive but is this tru D:

the big article that came out, for anyone curious: https://www.vulture.com/2023/06/spider-verse-animation-four-artists-on-making-the-sequel.html

there are some aspects about the article that i don't feel comfortable commenting on, but yes a lot of animators did quit. a lot of it had to do with the issues mentioned in the article, but a lot also left because disney opened a studio in vancouver (where sony imageworks is located) and had to hire an entire crew. i don't blame people for leaving spiderverse to get in on being a part of establishing the disney vancouver studio

i will also say that some of the information going around is incorrect; we did not work 11 hours a day, 7 days a week for over a year. working 7 days a week is illegal, and though some people worked sundays, they were clearly told that they could not work the next saturday if they worked a sunday. we encouraged people to not work ghost hours, and OT was always optional (except for saturday work towards the end, but nobody was punished or anything if they couldn't work a saturday). we also get paid for OT. i was on the movie for over a year but we certainly weren't crunching that whole time. like the article said, we were idle for a long time

it was undeniably a hard movie to work on and with such a large crew, everyone had a wide variety of experiences. the anonymous animators in the article aren't wrong, but i will say that there are people that felt differently, or not as strongly as them. it's a complicated issue that doesn't have a simple solution

i just hope this doesn't tarnish your view of the movie. we worked hard on it and everyone's immense celebration of the animation is making all that hard work very worth it!

[mercuryislove]

Don’t hate me but… I kinda want you to answer all of the deep dive WIP asks 🥺 if that’s unreasonable tho, just 2, 9, and 10 please!

I am SORRY for the delay!!! i answered every question for BOTH projects so you're in for like.... several thousand words of shit that makes absolutely no sense, but i hope you you enjoy it! :)

1. Who are two characters that don't like each other? What do they reveal about each other to the readers? Will they ever learn to put aside their differences?

White Crane: okay this is hard because like. so many people do not like each other. (I know I made a post once about how terrible it would be to be one of twenty-eight people that have the power of dead gods but are trapped in stupid human bodies and you're all a thousand years old and hate each other so so so so so much because you all SUCK.) But for the sake of simplicity, I will talk about Ciaran and Sihla who never got along but only played nice to keep Anwei happy. They absolutely do NOT put aside their differences lmao once everything kind of, um, blows up between the three of them, all they want to do is KILL each other. She makes it her life's goal to make him suffer, and he basically loses his sanity in the process of trying to find a way to kill her for good. The beef is unbelievable. ANYWAY, what they reveal about each other is that Ciaran is not nearly as innocent in anything as he likes to pretend and Sihla is not as guilty as everyone says she is. I mean, she is still a terrible person in many ways, but that does not excuse the things he did to her all those years ago. She hates him for many, many good reasons.

Old Blood: Andhira HATES the entire Ekion family, but specifically the oldest son (who does not have an official name yet.... oops). He doesn't much care for her either but is usually too busy trying to better his social standing to worry too much about her. Except when they're in the same room together (which happens semi-regularly because her brother is kind of in love with him lmao). They hate each other for the exact same reason and it's that they're both SO arrogant. They look down on everyone around them (which in Andhira's case is like. fair. She's the firstborn of the two most powerful people on the planet, and the only person that comes close to that level of power is her twin brother who was born a mere fourteen minutes after her) but think the other is completely unjustified in their actions. Really all it reveals to a reader is that they both kind of suck and need to get over themselves because all that behavior does is make people resent you. They only put aside their differences because she does kind of need his help once or twice, but they would gladly spit in each other's face and/or push each other down a flight of stairs in the name of pettiness.

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2. What do you hope your readers will take away from your wip? Is there an intentional theme to the story?

These can be answered together! I started writing these stories because I wanted to have fun but they've both kind of morphed into a long-winded way of saying that like. it's okay to be messed up and hate yourself and have major internal struggles because there are people who still love you. I KNOW it doesn't sound like that from uhhhhhh literally everything I've ever said about this stuff but bear with me. The BIG theme is that love is EVERYTHING. All kinds of love. It's the reason to keep on going. You are never alone, even strangers can love you in their own way, etc etc etc etc. Also gay love fucking prevails always and forever.

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3. What do you love most about your protagonist?

Yixing is funny and weird and definitely a horse girl and he kind of sucks sometimes because he's stubborn as hell and has terrible people skills and maybe also a drinking problem, but he is kind and empathetic and despite the absolute hell he's lived through, he still sees the good in people and knows that it's easy to make mistakes and that most people deserve second chances in life. Also I like him because he is without a doubt the ideal man and I made him that way on purpose. And god I wish we could drink together. I'm talking stumbling drunk, crying on the bathroom floor, please-hold-my-hair-i'm-about-to-throw-up kind of drinking. We would have a great time being stupid together I think.

Vera is resilient and mean and stubborn and cold and off-putting and hard to get to know, and she sucks for those reasons but it's also why I love her so much. She has also lived through hell and it didn't make her try to see the good in people like Yixing does. It just made her bitter and resentful. She warms up over time, but she fights tooth and nail against it. I also love her so much because she is the archetype of like. the washed up former prodigy that has to return sort of against her will to her old life, and she realizes that she misses it in some ways but also remembers exactly why she left. I would Not want to drink with her (because she doesn't drink anymore), but I would love to take one of her art classes.

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4. Is there anything in the story that is implied but not directly stated? Will this become more relevant later on? How perceptive would a reader have to be to pick up on this?

White Crane: This is hard because I'm so invested in my own shit that it feels obvious to me, but I try to lay out a little candy trail that tells the reader that Ciaran and Anwei are Not What They Seem right from the start. It’s hard to explain without specific examples but it’s in the way they talk, they way they interact with other people, the way certain things they say don’t line up, etc etc etc. And there is a Big Hint of what will happen to Ciaran in the second and third installment, but idk if that counts. Also there are definitely implications that Yixing is trans but that's neither here nor there (honestly I’ve gone back and forth on whether or not he should be explicitly trans or if it should be left to reader interpretation because well... I don’t know if I'm capable of writing the nuance of transness because I'm not trans despite my complex and confusing relationship with gender but I'm also not a thirty-something year old Asian man NOR am I a god NOR am I a former vampire hunter NOR am I like. any of the things I write about other than a mean lesbian so. who knows?)

Old Blood: TRUE FANS already know this one, but regular degular readers that haven't participated in funny question friday or read my random late night posting would not immediately know that Josef and the Sovereign were once involved. Basically the only characters in the story that know are Josef, Luka, the Sovereign himself, and Tahire. But there are definitely some hints peppered throughout conversations and perhaps some photos and trinkets that Josef has kept after all this time... It has like no weight on the events of the story but I just think it's fun. Once again I am way too invested to know if it's easy to pick up on or not but I think it takes some theorizing about maybe? Other than that there aren’t any significant secrets.

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5. Which character has the most intricate backstory? Is this backstory common knowledge from the start, or is it revealed later on? How does the backstory affect the narrative?

White Crane: this is unfair because some of the characters are almost a thousand years old and some of them are like. 35. I DO have a full timeline written out of the thousand years of history that Ciaran and Anwei have lived through, if that counts as an answer. Like it doesn't have every single day and year, but it has all the big events for sure. Barring that, Yixing definitely has a pretty complex backstory. The man gets around lol and I try (and maybe fail?) to make him seem not too complex initially but then things get revealed and you learn more about him and are like “oh my god no wonder this man has Problems.” Also if he was like. “normal” and perhaps “well-adjusted” the story would not exist at all because he is the way he is and makes some of the stupid decisions he does because of his weird little life.

Old Blood: ONCE AGAIN, this is unfair because the Sovereign is like older than god. And Vera is 37. But like. I haven't fleshed him or any of the old ass vampires out nearly as much as Vera so there's your answer I guess? And I guess the important things are known from the start (that she was a prodigy, that she retired because terrible shit happened and she couldn't handle it, that she suffers from significant ptsd because of it, etc), but there is a lot of detail that doesn't come out until much later when she has to confront her Feelings (ewww feelings). Uh... the backstory affects the narrative because it wouldn't exist at all if Vera wasn't plagued by her fucked up blood nightmares lol

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6. Which two characters have the most complicated relationship? How does their relationship develop over time?

White Crane: Ciaran and Anwei totally. They love each other because they're brother and sister and were all the other had for a VERY long time (and even when they were still uh mortal, they relied on each other constantly), but also they hate each other because they're brother and sister. You know how it is with siblings. I love my brother and sister to pieces but I can't imagine being immortal and having to put up with the both of them for all eternity (sorry guys if you are reading this somehow.... I love you but we are all so annoying god bless). They handled their newfound godhood very, very, very differently and it kind of colors their relationship for the rest of time. There were times where they were extremely codependent and other times where they didn't speak to each other for DECADES. At the start of our story, they're on much better terms and have buried all their hatchets, but it doesn't take much for that to change....

Old Blood: Probably Vera and Andhira? They're only brought together because of their shared fucked up blood nightmares, and neither of them like that thought. They both resent the other for everything they are, and Vera is pretty much completely hostile to Andhira about it for a long time (and Andhira is only just barely cordial lol), but obviously a significant part of the plot revolves around them like. falling in love so they DO get over it after a while :)

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7. What is the most heart-wrenching scene in your wip? Why?

White Crane: When Yixing fucking DIES. I feel like this one should be self-explanatory. But I mean if you would like further explanation, it's unpleasant and slow and agonizing and nobody can do anything to stop it (haha....... unless?) so Ciaran gets to hold him for a long time and feel really bad about it lol

Old Blood: idk if there are any really heart-wrenching scenes but there are definitely some miserable and uncomfortable scenes like where Vera relives in vivid detail the days that she witnessed the gruesome deaths of her young apprentice and her last lover. They're upsetting because those are the two days that basically ruined her life (and one was the final straw that sent her spiraling completely out of control) and it's painful to watch her have to live with the guilt of what happened even if it wasn't her fault.

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8. What is a song that you associate with your wip? Explain.

White Crane: not to be basic but absolutely without a doubt in my stupid mind “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears lol it's because uh. well. Everybody wants to rule the world right? Basically way back in 2019 when I was crafting the ideas for the dnd campaign that became this thing instead, I was definitely having a metal gear moment (honestly I’m about to have a metal gear moment NOW lol) and was listening to a lot of like. mgs adjacent music and latched onto this song (and also promises, promises by naked eyes lmao) as some like thematic element. Like my brain making amvs. You know how it is. ANYWAY the point is. The concept was originally way different and was supposed to be more about the immediate aftermath of the so-called end of the world (yes Yixing was still there and yes he was still just some guy), and it focused a lot more on power struggles between all of these insane people that were granted godhood in the wake of the dying world. Which........ is something I'd like to write about at some point because it's intriguing in its own way but at the time I was unequipped to write about that when I really just wanted to write about people who are, for all intents and purposes, quite average getting caught up in the batshit drama of higher powers. (fun fact: Ciaran was supposed to be a tyrant king that ran a death cult and Anwei and Yixing were working together to figure out a way to kill him. Which is. Kind of what my dnd campaign is like now lol BASICALLY he's like if Big Boss was unkillable and could also rip souls out of people's bodies and eat them. I absolutely do not remember what this question originally was. Something about a song?)

Old Blood: THIS is the reason it took me so long to answer this whole thing. I thought long and hard and looked through all my playlists and listened to random songs that came to mind but it turns out the song I was looking for was right in front of me the whole time. DUH. It's “Golden Light” by Twin Shadow :) In my humble homo interpretation, I think it's a song about being afraid to fall in love and. Well. That's the whole point. Also #spoilers but the first time Vera sees Andhira and is like “oops I think I have feelings” is when they've just arrived at Andhira's home and the sun is rising and she looks over at her as they stand at the top of a hill and she has her eyes closed to the sun and she's bathed in golden light and OOUGGGGHGHHH poetic cinema. (honorable mention goes to “Groove is in the Heart” by Deee-lite because it’s quintessential early 90s music that Vera would be super into)

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9. What does your protagonist want most? What would they do to achieve this? What is something they wouldn't do to achieve this?

White Crane: Yixing wants to be happy for once. Like actually really happy instead of just. getting by. There's a scene where they're making wishes for the next seasons during the summer solstice and someone asks what he wants and he's like “uh I guess I want to still be alive at the end of the year?” and the other person is like “isn't that what everyone wants? Raise the fucking bar please. What do you REALLY want?” and he's stands there for a really long time and thinks about it before finally saying “I think I just want to be happy for once” and everyone else is like. wow. Way to kill the fucking mood dude. Anyway. He has had fleeting moments of happiness in his life but wants nothing more than to feel that way forever. It's kind of hard to say what he wouldn't do for that because like. there's not really much you CAN do in the first place, so I feel like there's even less you couldn't do. I guess he wouldn't like sell his soul to the devil or something lmao (though by being involved with Ciaran he's pretty much halfway there)

Old Blood: to be left alone. Vera just wants a normal life. She really truly does want to pretend that none of the horrible shit happened to her and that she was never a world-famous hunter. And she wants to teach art classes and live a quiet life!!! I mean, she is already mostly doing that exact thing when we first meet her, but obviously she has some hindrances (aka fucked up blood nightmares). She is begrudgingly helping Andhira because she assumes that will fix her problem and that she'll be able to get to that quiet living as soon as all is said and done. The only thing she really wouldn't do to get what she wants is like... live somewhere far away from Josef and Luka lol She likes having them close by more than she wants to be left alone.

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10. Within your story's world, were there any events that impacted every character (or most characters)? How would they be different if this event never happened? (Alternatively, erase an important even from on character's backstory and imagine where they'd be now.)

White Crane: well. If the stupid old gods didn't all kill themselves and almost end the world then I guess none of this story would exist lol But the actual answer is like. If Yixing had never run out on his girlfriend of ten years then he wouldn't have moved across the continent to Jengmi and wouldn't have made a name for himself way out there and wouldn't have been scouted and recruited and wouldn't have met Ciaran or Anwei and wouldn't have gotten in the middle of the batshit grudge between a bunch of ancient petty gay people and wouldn't have DIED and wouldn't have made one of the ancient petty gay people in particular lose his grip on his humanity via a lust for power in a desperate attempt to guarantee his safety and wouldn't have been the reason that tens of thousands of people die in his name and wouldn't have accidentally set off a chain of events that resulted in him having to hunt down and kill the Actual God that started it all in a fit of jealous rage. So like. maybe he should have just gone through with the wedding. All things considered, his life would have been way less stressful.

Old Blood: uhhh, that's tough because the stuff that happens only really has any effect on the mortal characters (I mean yeah people still try to kill the Sovereign but they're too dumb to know the ACTUAL way to kill him.... haha unless??), so it would be more like a what if Vera didn't witness the violent deaths of both her apprentice and her lover and have a full blown nervous breakdown and abandon her career? Well...... I think most things in the plot would transpire more or less the same, except she would be WAY less pissed off about it. In fact, she would probably be hyped as hell to get the chance to make the acquaintance of the Sovereign's family like Josef had before her. The thought of Vera being upbeat and not a sleep-deprived asshole that hates being dragged back to her old life..... ew. Not that I enjoy her suffering but you know what I mean. It just wouldn't be the same.

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11. What is something from your wip that you just really want to ramble about?

Are you sure you're ready for this. This is going to be so so so so long I'm sorry in advance. It's Saturday night and I'm alone and kind of sad so I'm just going to let loose.

As I hone down plot elements for next two installments in my little trilogy, I have kind of become obsessed with the passage of time and how different it must feel to someone that, well, lives forever. One of the ways I'd written (that has since been kind of changed) for Yixing to start to figure out what Ciaran really is was that he would casually be looking through his bookshelf and find an old photograph of Ciaran, Anwei, and their mom standing backstage together after one of his performances. And when he eventually asks Ciaran about it, he gets upset because how dare you touch the one thing I have left to remember my mother? To remember what my life used to be like? There are so many names and faces and places and foods and sensations that I've forgotten in the 940 years I've lived like this and I would give anything I have to see any of it just one more time because I didn't know that the last time I would ever speak to my mom we would have an argument on the phone about how I need to go to the temple and pray for good fortune on my birthday, or that the last time I would ever see my best friend would be at 6am when we both came into the studio to practice and he asked me to go out to breakfast and I said no because I thought a nap would be more important. And there are so many people that I've watched die whose names I never learned and whose faces I forgot the moment I turned away, and there are so many others that I loved so dearly that I had to leave behind because they grew old and I didn't. And I have lived lifetimes in solitude to keep myself a secret from other people and I have died more than any person should ever have to die and I have witnessed atrocities no one should ever witness and I hate everything about this life so much but I love everything about this life so much and I wouldn’t trade it for anything but I think I would give it all away in an instant if only to remember the scent of my mother's favorite perfume and I think I would give it all away in an instant if it meant I didn't have to watch you turn to dust in my arms.

ANYWAY. I think a lot about the agony of loving things that aren't permanent and how it really DOES drive you mad because lately I have been unbelievably nostalgic for certain things that weren't even that long ago but..... I didn't appreciate them at the time and I feel so guilty about it. (And like. I too would give up my entire life to be able to remember the scent of my grandmother's favorite perfume.) And all my pent-up sadness is for things that only happened in my childhood. I have pictures and videos and other people to share those memories with, but what does it feel like to be one of very few people that watched the entire world fall apart and rebuild itself and have nothing to hold onto from that time? What does it feel like to foster dozens of generations of children and outlive every single one of them? What does it feel like to have only fragments of memories of entire lifetimes? How lonely is it? I mean, Ciaran and Anwei have each other and that makes a difference but it still has to be the most isolating feeling. And then there's the pain that comes with memories that have faded or otherwise become hazy. I doubt either of them remember their father's face. They hadn't seen him in years even before it all happened. If it wasn't for that single photo he has, they wouldn't remember their mother's face either. Do they still remember her name? Or her birthday? Do they remember anyone else? Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, coworkers? If they do, do they even want to talk about it? One thing I worry about in my own life (and this is how I know I have Problems) is that I'm so afraid that talking about memories will alter them somehow. There are so many things that I don't even like to share because once the words are spoken the little vhs tape that has all my memories has been recorded over, even if it's just by a single frame. Something about it has been changed forever each time I talk about it. Do they feel the same way and keep things to themselves instead of sharing the sadness? I think maybe they used to talk about the “old days” or whatever much more often back in the past, but as the years went by.... they just learned to keep it to themselves.

I think maybe I have a lot of anxiety about the passage of time and of being forgotten!

Anyway again. The passage of time drives me insane. And I think it would make me even more insane if I had been chosen to carry the mantle of a dead god and would live forever. My dog died a year ago and I still cry like every single day thinking about her. If I was doomed to live forever I don't know how the sadness wouldn't swallow me whole! No wonder all the people in this book are fucking CRAZY!!

And don't even get me started on the Sovereign lol he's like “oh boo-hoo you've lived for not even a thousand years? Bitch they hadn't invented fucking GLASS yet when I was born. The horse wasn't domesticated yet. Cry harder!!”

[gffa]

for the ask meme, how about 1, 8, and 13?

1.  Fave/Least Fave MovieFAVE:  Answered here!LEAST FAVE:  The Last Jedi.  It hasn’t aged well for me and the longer I sit with it, the less satisfying I find it to be.  I would say that it’s probably the most polished of the ST movies and I can absolutely make sense of Luke Skywalker’s journey, but I just don’t find it satisfying.I don’t like the pacing of it, that an entire third of the ST is spent only inching the plot forward by a matter of days, it makes the scope of the entire sequel trilogy feel so much smaller and less epic for it.I don’t like that watching Luke’s scenes isn’t fun for me, that the longer I sit with some of the moments of humor, the less they work for me.  Luke tossing the lightsaber over his shoulder?  That really only sort of worked for me the first time, after that it just feels weirdly mean towards everything that lightsaber meant, good and bad.  Which is the point, I just don’t care for it.  Same for how Luke whacking Rey’s hand and making that sarcastic face is an amazing face pulled off by Mark Hamill, but I don’t like how mean-spirited it feels on repeat watchings, not for Luke Skywalker.I don’t like the wasted potential of Canto Bight and the lack of connecting it to anything that has come before, despite that it’s supposed to be Galactically Famous And Important.  I don’t like the total lack of Finn being right there and having a hugely important reason to be angry about the people who profit off war and what that steals from other people’s lives.I don’t like how little Ben Solo interacts with Luke or Leia.  I understand the lack of Leia, she was supposed to be more in IX, but even if he’d gotten as much interaction with her as he did with Han in VII or Luke in VIII, that still feels like the only relationship that got any kind of development was with Rey, that it makes the scope of his character feel very small to me, when he’s supposed to have significant relationships with all of the OT trio.  It makes his confrontation with Luke that much less powerful for me, because they barely said two words to each other otherwise.I don’t like that Poe fucks up and fucks up in this movie and then Leia still turns around like, “Why are you looking at me?  Follow him!”  Like, I don’t think Poe is a bad person and I do think he’s leadership material and his mistakes are totally sympathetic and not unreasonable at all, but this movie didn’t do the groundwork to show why that is, I had to depend on the comics and novels to fill in those gaps for me.  And I don’t like that criticism of Holdo’s actions often got dismissed as misogyny when, okay, no, I’m on her side, but also there’s a point to be made that maybe a better leader might have noticed the mutiny brewing under her nose.  At least something to talk about, even if I am absolutely on her side, because she didn’t owe him an explanation.  (Also, those comments about Rian wanting to see her shape in the feminine dresses?  Ehhhhhh.)I don’t like the idea of Rey’s parents being “nobody” is devastating for her, because she never cared about bloodlines or importance, other than who they were to her.  I get that the movie meant, “They don’t care about you.”, which is what really hurt Rey, but it got wrapped up in the idea of being “nobody” and it just didn’t work for me.And I think it relies too much on being reactionary to what it thinks the audience wants and then going in the opposite direction–which is still basing a lot of what the movie does on audience reactions, rather than doing something that felt more organic to me.  Sure, TROS does the same thing, but at least I had some fun while watching the movie.AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON “ANYONE CAN HAVE THE FORCE” BECAUSE NO FUCKING SHIT THAT’S WHAT THE PT JEDI WERE AND ALSO TCW SHOWED VERY CLEARLY THAT THEY WERE NOT THE ONLY FORCE USERS IN THE GALAXY AND THE FORCE HAS NEVER BELONGED TO THE JEDI.8.  Fave/Least Fave ConceptAnswered here!13.  Fave/Least Fave KissFAVE:  NO KISS WILL EVER BEAT THIS ONE:

(Well, unless Obi-Wan finally dip kissed Anakin in the afterlife, but they haven’t actually SHOWN that, yet, LOL KIDDING.)(Sort of.)LEAST FAVE:  I dunno, either the Finn/Rose one (because it had no impact) or the Ben/Rey one (because sooooo much discourse inspired by it that it’s kind of eaten the fandom), mostly because they didn’t inspire anything in me personally, though, if people like them, then as long as you’re not an asshole about it, then I hope they enjoyed them

[larenoz]

Roswell New Mexico - Live Rewatch - Ep 4 -  Where Have All The Cowboys Gone

Rosa making crack jokes. Too soon Rosa, Too soon.

Yes, high school is kind of a jerk, Liz.

People are the worst drug.

OMG, so much forshadowing - cages around hearts, people hurt you, armour.

Who hurt you? Liz asks. She assumes Frederico but now we know it's probably Iz.

Seriously, how much bottled water does Max keep at his house? Is he a secret prepper?

Damn, it shouldn't work but that short sleeve denim shirt and white tshirt combo really works for Michael.

I gotta hand it to Liz, she is finding out all their secrets pretty damn fast.

Here comes Arturo. Liz, Liz, Liz, it doesn't matter how long it's been.

Meat cleaver. Gotta love the classics

Die Jesse Manes Die

You go Sheriff Valenti. YOu call Jesse on his bullshit.

Yeah, Jesse, reminding the Sherriff that her husband was cheating on her is totes the way to get her to co-operate

No Cam, don't do it.

Pod Squad

Will she forget me. Poor Max

If I say it enough it might happen!!

What I want stopped mattering along time ago. Now where have we heard that before??

Secrets, so many secrets. They really should know that's not a good idea by now.

What's worse, thinking someone doesn't love you  or not knowing that they do??

You tell her Arturo.

That's one thing Liz and Max have in common, a little too quick to pass judgement.

I really want to try churro pancakes. And again more lies

Noooooooooooooooooo

Not Arturo.

There's my MVP, Kyle

Helps Arturo, gets Liz a job.

Michael getting barred from the Pony - again.

Dramatic cowboy angst.

Maria REALLY doesn't like Iz

Fuck, you gotta love Iz's sense of humour - Racist Hank ordering a fruity cosmo

I do love the voice Max does about low pants hanging holligans.

Max, Max, Max the last thing you should EVER want to talk about with Cam is what you did last night.

Seriously dude, you dumped her for another chick while she was giving you a hand job.

You haven't been yourself lately really just doesn't cut it. You should be thankful she didn't shoot you. ffs

I am so glad they made Cam like she is. No fucking bullshit. She calls Max on what he did and that it's about Liz. But in such away that it doesn't come off as the typical jealous chick bullshit.

Queso, tequilla and no less than three orgasms. - possibily one of the greatest lines ever spoken on tv

Fuck, I love that little smile/smirk that Michael does.

Michael, your really are a dumbass if you think getting in between Maria and Isobel is a good idea.

Iz poking at other people hiding the truth, no, no, no

Michael does look a tad bit hesitant about the idea of Iz reading Maria.

Iz, Iz, Iz there is a difference between being blunt and just plain rude. You can't call someone a freak.

"curated, Pintrest page you call your life" That is one class A insult and really, probably a bit too close to home.

And then Maria throws that freak comment right back at her.

Because Rosa hated you.

It's lets call Max on his bullshit day. You go Kyle. Bonus points for using a dying child to rub it in.

My father was real hero. Poor Kyle.

To help people.

"We're just men, we can't play God." oh really says the cop whose an alien with healing powers to the doctor. I think you both play god every damn day.

The backpack.

Oh, why mention where Rosa was going on the bus? Maybe there is another connection to Los Alamos? You apart from the whole nuclear thing.

I do like the way they mostly manage to let the non-Spanish speakers know what the dialogue is about.

OT - watching all the ads for GoT is really weird now that I know how bad they fucked it up.

Max looking at his hands....

No Cam. just following orders is never good enough.

OK, I know this is fiction and everything. But that just isn't how electricity works people.

Detective Liz on the case about to make a massive  stuff up

Liz, this is why we don't jump to conclusions based on limited evidence. You as Ms Science should know that.

Poor Kyle, no baby, he really wasn't such a good husband but that's for another episode.

To be fair, Kyle asking about saving Max at the expense of his Dad isn't unreasonable.

But then Liz is ready to change her conclusion when presented to an alternative theory. Yay

And then Kyle starts dropping big plot points.

"I know what it's like when heroes fall". Damn.

His eyes are amazing.

Downside - taxes and parents having flaw. And what are the perks there Kyle??

Michael watching over Iz. I can't.

Mikey....

He would do anything is Iz.

That is a face that should make you run very fast in the opposite direction.

Oh, Liz and Arturo as so cute together.

Gotta say her pancakes don't sound too tasty.

And here they are about to break my heart again.

Michael waiting/wanting to be saved......

We have each other - but do you Max?

And here he goes, throwing himself on the sword again.

"I'm not gonna let you martyr yourself" (because that's my job).

"You got a good life, Isobel, you got Noah, I got nothing but some old scrap metal"

Fuck I just want to hug him, then shake some sense into him then hug him again.

"I'm gonna confess, after all, I'm the one that killed those girls" dum dum dum

And fuck you Max and Iz for not even fighting him on this, not even a little bit. Just fuck you both sideways - especially you Max.

Not one fucking word in opposition for throwing Michael to the wolves.

And even though it's obvious and easy I really do like the light effect of their symbol at the very end.

I know that at this stage we don't know the whole story and that in fact Michael didn't do it. But even so, the fact that neither Max nor Isobel argue with MIchael makes me really angry.

Like it might make sense for Michael to take the fall but at least put up a fight!! Let Michael know he's worth fighting for.

Exactly, like even a "There must be another way" or something.

Yeah, you might be right on that one.

Yeah, and even though it's possible it might've been Michael, I think it's more that when push comes to shove, Max wants it to be Michael rather than Iz.

That he's always willing to preference Isobel over Michael.

So, not an episode with alot of fireworks. But when you look at it, alot of backstory and alot of people's feelings are out there for the people who need to know

Lot's of inter-character dynamics on display.

I think I'll have to rate the drama quotient of each ep by how many times I say fuck. In which case this ep scores quite low!!

(Commenter) That might be the most Aussie thing I've heard you say, lol

[skeptic42]

Breaking this off the original thread.

Me:

This is what happens when people are given a little bit of knowledge, yet not taught to think critically.

When @ace-pervert says something like:

Yeah as long as you have things which can test them

He’s right in that not everyone has a LHC lying around the garage to just fire up and test for the Higgs Boson.  However, it is possible to get an education specializing in the right field and get access to a particle accelerator.  And run some tests.

But then you get worried when he says,

You almost never get the same result twice when testing something

This shows a complete and total lack of understanding in science and how it works.  If nature was as chaotic as he implies, then we could never know anything.  And before he whips out with the whole quantum universe thing, there are tests that we can conduct and repeat experiments.  Plus the quantum universe thing is only applicable below the atomic level.

What we can know can change.  Science doesn’t collapse and all knowledge disappear when we discover something knew.  Theories (that is not guesses or speculation, but testable, repeatable ideas supported by evidence through getting the same results no just twice, but hundreds of times) are adjusted.  It’s only when they are totally proven false, like cold fusion, that they get scrapped.  Relativity supplanted Newtionian physics, but we still use it because it works for things here on earth.

But you have to be worried when you read,

it took so long for us to succesfully [sic] prove that the sun revolved around the earth

I’m hoping this is a typo.

provided you can demonstrate it exists to begin with which is impossible when it comes to things like intelligence which cant be tested directly but are assumed to exist but in truth are only hypothetic in nature and therefore not demonstratable.

First, there’s a difference between the abstract, like the mind, and the physical, like the brain.  Now, we know intelligence exists, we are currently using devices that result from using intelligence.  It also helps to actually define intelligence.  Being smart like Einstein and being a con artist like Trump.  Not the same thing, but some people can’t tell the difference.

We might not understand something, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.  Consciousness is a good place to start.  It does exist.  It can be tested.  It’s as immaterial as intelligence.

Next we have @chillimanjaro:

“There are dozens of aspects of reality we don’t understand, including other dimensions. We don’t fully understand things like quantum mechanics or even physics. Not fully.”

Other dimensions may exist, but so far only in mathematical formulas on paper.  We understand quite a bit about quantum mechanics and physics.  We don’t know everything, sure, if we did, we wouldn’t study it.  Our knowledge is expanding all the time.  We’re developing new tools and building more powerful ones.

As for “something beyond this reality,” it makes for great fiction and fun speculation, but if it can interact with nature then there would be a way to test it.  Just because there are wavelengths of energy that can’t be seen doesn’t prove that every other thing we can conceive of could exist.  We can conceive of a wizarding boy that goes to a magical school, but I think lending it credence instead of relegating it to fiction isn’t the best way to go about thinking about things.

That’s the great thing about curiosity and science, we keep looking for more answers.

Response:

chillimanjaro:

I’m not saying lack of understanding is proof of God existing. I’m saying that you cannot reasonably dismiss the concept of a diety just because you personally have not observed him. That regardless of what you or I say about a god has no impact on whether a god exists.

It’s not a matter of not observing or feeling a god, but understanding that all gods were created in the minds of men.

I could sit here and say I have felt the presence of God in my life. I could do that, but I know me saying that I believe I have felt God, that I’ve heard his voice, that I’ve had a religious experience is my anecdotal evidence and will be dismissed as such.

Very true.  People have felt a lot of stuff and been entirely wrong.

But I’d rather say that the dismissive nature of saying well I can’t see it, I’ve never felt it, I’ve never had that experience is not a proper way to address the question of Gods existence.

Again, it’s not a matter of not seeing.  I did give an example of something we can’t see, yet we know it exists.

You lack any faith in God existing because you’ve never seen anything to attribute that to the world and that’s all well and fine but that still wouldn’t determine the existence of God.

Nor would feelings or being able to conceive of a god.  Just look at history, all the gods were human or animal or hybrid, things people have seen, yet none existed.  The box you open has your god in it, yet no other gods.  Why?  Why is your god the one true god, but none of the other gods?  There may very be some super powerful being, but the idea is pointless.  god needs to be relegated to mythology, with the rest of them.  In the other box where you put all the gods.

To dismiss the possibility is just simply not reasonable.

To dismiss evidence is unreasonable.  To believe is unreasonable.  The possibility is not worth the effort or the time, except in fiction.

It’s as just as unreasonable as seeing the infinitely expanding universe and saying the only place with life on it must be our planet.

This is actually a very reasonable statement.  Is there life elsewhere in the universe?  Possibly.  Given the law of large numbers, it’s very likely.  Where the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe and the possibility of a deity existing differ is in one single point:

We know life exists in the universe.

And since it exists here, it is actually very probably it exists somewhere else in the universe with hundreds of billions of galaxies with hundreds of thousands of stars with trillions of planets.  It like the lottery, the chance of one ticket winning is microscopic.  The chance of a ticket winning is extremely likely.

I’m not saying that you must believe God exist because the chance is there that God does exist.

The greater chance is that god was created in the minds of men, like the 5,000 some odd other gods.

I’m saying very simply that that you can’t just say, nope not possible at all.

The possibility is a moot point, nor does it increase the likelihood.

All I can really say is that if you seek God, not to prove existence of God for yourself, but if you SEEK GOD TO FIND GOD you will find God.

Yes. When you really want something to be true, it is all the easier to believe it’s true when you don’t and can’t prove or disprove it concisely.  It’s even easier when that god is invisible, untestable, unobservable. unprovable, and exactly what you conceive.

Also comparing the Bible, and more specifically the gospel of Jesus Christ, to Harry Potter is not a valid comparison.

They’re both fiction, and mention real places.  

Harry Potter has been stated by its author to be fictional and is not that old.

Yes, we know it’s fiction.   However, the Iliad and the Odyssey are much older, yet we don’t believe they are real.  The Sumerian flood myth is even older then the bible, yet we know that wasn’t real either.

Something that has stood the test of thousands of years,

What test?  People being forced to believe it?

has the most original copies of any documents in the ancient world

Do you mean the thousands and thousands of fragments?  You do realize that copy means not original.   Some of which prove they’ve been altered (like the addition of the last several verses of Mark).  

 (and I’m talking ancient documents dated around the time that it is claimed Jesus did what he did) especially when it was widely persecuted with crucifixtion, prison, and being burned alive at the time it began and still faces persecution in many parts of the world has a bit more value than that.

This seems a little odd, like you’re running at least two ideas together.  I’ll try to pull them apart.

The only documents about the existence of jesus are the gospels.  Everything else was derived from that or from the people who believed it.  There are no original accounts (and the gospels are full of contradictions, read Bart Ehrman).

We do know that crucifixions happened.  Doesn’t prove jesus existed.  It just proves the writers used that along with the OT to fabricate the jesus story.

I’m not sure how people being persecuted today proves the bible true.  I think your working toward the logical fallacy known as appeal to popularity (many people believe it, so it must be true).

If people did not believe Jesus came back from the dead then they would have renounced their faith in him under scrutiny especially when faced with his same type of death.

Called it.  People believe because they wanted to believe.  Belief in gods was rampant at that time.  Many religions sprang up and had instant followers.  christianity happened to survive the ages, not through fact, but belief.

If they didn’t believe in the miracles that they claimed to have seen and were just saying so then they would have given up, not given their life.

That doesn’t follow.  Just because people gave up their lives for their beliefs doesn’t prove anything except they gave up their life for their beliefs.

No one actually saw anything.  (Why are there 4 different accounts of jesus talking to Pontius Pilot that differ in almost every way and yet none of his followers actually witnessed any exchange?)  We have 4 canonical and numerous apocryphal accounts, all created at least 30 years after the supposed events.  Yet somehow, no one wrote down anything at the time, only 30+ years later, during an age of illiteracy, rife with supposed gods, with many wandering illiterate itinerant apocalyptic preachers.  Jesus was a common name, derived from Joshua, a Jewish hero. The practice of giving your children great names hasn’t changed.

No one is out there dying for Harry Potter (except JK Rowling lol) but people refuse to give up their faith in Jesus and die for it plenty to this day.

I hope not.  But if people were, that wouldn’t suddenly prove Harry Potter is real.  There however is a possibility that J.K. Rowling wrote about real events, but due to the magic protecting muggles and keeping them out of the wizarding world we are completely unaware of this unseen world around us.  Rowling may have even had these events transmitted to her mind so as to foster further disbelief in the wizarding world and protect it from discovery.

I’d really recommend looking into Lee Strobel if you’re interested for more answers. They actually have a movie based off his book on Netflix last time I checked. It’s called The Case For Christ.

Wow.  Talk about coincidence.  (But when I think about it, it’s actually a very likely coincidence.)  I just read about his book.  Now I’ll have to go back and reread that article again, so I won’t address it here.

I’d also recommend that you actually read the New Testament of the Bible, not necessarily the whole thing but the first 4 books give a clear understanding of Jesus Christ.

I have.  I used to go to church.  Been baptised, believed it because everyone else did.  But when I started to develop critical thinking, questioning things, I began to realize that I didn’t believe it.  

I recommend you read it as well, but read it in parallel.  Find the stories that overlap.  See how they are different.  Read Bart Ehrman, Jesus Interrupted and Misquoting Jesus (I think that’s the names).  He’s a top NT scholar.  I don’t agree with everything he wrote, but he is good.

Another good one (though I will tell you that not everything between the pages of that book has the same value) is What Time Is Purple? It’s very short, shouldn’t take more than 45 minutes to read at max.

Maybe.  I have like 2,000 other books to read.

I recommend How to Think About Weird Things.  I’ve just started Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe, it promises to be excellent.

[bluebathroomtowels]

I think I may have a crush on one of my friends. Not a Crush, so to say, but as close as I can get.

The thing is though, I don’t actually have too many friends? Its really difficult for ne to keep up with lots of people, so its easier on me to just have a few I’m pretty close to. There are other people who probably classify but,, if I don’t hang iut woth them iutside of class or Talk to them, my brain doesnt truely count it.

And theres me being mostly aromantic. Mostly. Even with the exceptions, it still isnt pure romance. Its qpr energy. Soft romo at the very most. Its an urge to be more intimate- mostly emotionally, a little physically, to have some kind of commitment, to see them more often.... but still not a romantic relationship.

People don’t usually Get this. The last 2 people I basically reached this with had hesitations surronding me being aro/ace and actually told me that. Which, isnt an unreasonable thing, but it only happened when things started to go sour. It still hurt., but I don’t blame them. So now, I know someone who does. Get it. I can make jokes, she gets excited about media representation. Really, it fees so nice.

I don’t know why I have these feelings. Its probably because I feel like I can be myself around her. Somehow, since the beginning, my mouth loosens and I can talk about anything without her thinking I’m annoying. Somehow, theres a certainty in this. I find myself wanting to make sure she feels the same way, like she doesnt have to hide anything for fear.

I could just really be mixing up platonic and romantic again. I’m not gonna do anything, just wait and see. This doesnt feel like something I can wait for her to make the first move on, with her being so accepting of my aromanticism. I don’t even know if she knows about the mostly part. And I don’t want to throw away this friendship.

New subject.

Recently, since being home over the break, something has been happening. It happened today, and its happened maybe 3 other times? I’m not entirely sure what it is. But basically, I get really overwhelmed with everything- voices, movement, how space is being taken up. It happens suddenly, its difficult for me to determine when its going to happen, like exponential growth. I might consider ot early in the day, forget, and around dinner time it hits me. Even if I’m alone most of the day beforehand, when this occurs I need to be alone.

I usually just hole up in the room, headphones on, only the lamp on, and do something comforting- like movie, drawing, or fanfiction. As I recharge, I can go out and talk to people, but only for a short time before I feel drained/overwhelmed again. If I’m unable to retreat, or people continuously stay interacting/around me, it makes it worse. I feel panicky- trapped? In place where I can’t move my body to do what I want. My expressions become very controlled, and my breathing does too. I feel like I’m seperated from my body? Not completely but.

My family doesnt usually know when it happens, I’m pretty good about leaving and not bothering anyone about it. Sometimes when they stick around, or my dad comes to hang in the bedroom it gets realt hard to stay controlled and nice.

[rwby-analysis]

Regarding Blake, I'm curious to understand more about Blake going back to Menagerie with the intention of fixing her first mistake in V4? I can see that happening, she does mention that she needs to sort some things out to Sun in Chapter 3, but then in Chapter 8 she says " I'm here to rest, to figure things out and see my family. " As someone that use to run from their problems a lot, it was really weird to hear her say she was there to rest, since another part of her running away was meant /pt1

to get her friends to hate her?? Though in some sense, I guess you could say she's actually not running away this time, since she actually stayed, made sure everyone was okay before making the decision to leave and go to Menagerie? Idk, Blake's entire arc from the end of V3 until now confuses me entirely, and even more so with Sun's... actions. ( though I also wonder if she would've had the calmness after indirectly causing Yang harm to actually think her decision through ?? ) pt3/ Anyway, sorry for the really long and convoluted ask, I initially was starting to dislike Blake quite a lot due to what I presumed was lack of reasoning, but read that post and was interested to know more about what you think about her arc and that little specific part? Would love to know more from a person that really likes Blake!!

The thing with Blake is that she actually is running away again after what happens in Volume 3. The abuse she has suffered from Adam caused her to blame herself for everything that happens around her. She blames herself for dragging her friends, people who have grown really close to her, into her own conflict with the White Fang. The first people she has allowed herself to trust and love since leaving Adam. Adam has cut off Yang’s arm only to hurt Blake for leaving him. Her feelings for Yang have caused Yang to get hurt. 

This must have been absolutely horrifying for her and she decided that they were all better off without her. She ran away to protect them. She ran way to make them hate her so she would not drag anyone into this fight, her fight, again. So no one would get hurt because of her again. Yes, that is a stupid decision and unreasonable, but in this situation it would have surprised me if she had acted reasonably. 

Blake going back to Menagerie isn’t the solution to her character arc, but it’s a first step. This time she is actuall going somewhere, facing something she has been running away from for so long. Yes, she is running away from her friends again, but at least she is trying to sort something else out this time. I also don’t really think that the decision to leave and the decision to go to Menagerie must have happened at the same time. It’s quite possible that Blake decided to leave and didn’t know where she would go until one or two days later. 

In Menagerie Blake has learned to deal with her conflicts and struggles in a much healthier way. Her father has made her realise that people will still love her despite the mistakes she has made, that she has made mistakes but what really counts is that she hasn’t fallen down the wrong path. Sun has made her realise that it is the choice of her friends to help her and that them getting hurt is not her fault. She has pushed her friends away from her because of guilt and fear, but I think Sun has done the groundwork to let her teammates back into her life again once they will reunite in Volume 5. He has done the groundwork for eventually forgiving herself for what happened to Yang. 

Blake has deeply hurt Yang by running away and she will have to face the consequences. It’s a conflict that they will have to work out, but just remember that running away was the action of a seventeen year old girl whose world world had just literally crumbled down, who had run from a terrorist organisation and an abusive relationship to become a huntress and find friends as well as a safe haven in Beacon Academy, only to have her past haunt her and crush it right in front of her eyes and her abusive ex boyfriend almost killing her and her best friend, while telling her he is only doing ot to make her suffer for her betrayal. That is not a situation where you make reasonable decisions. Just look how the White Fang now working for Roman Torchwick has already stressed her out in Volume 2. 

Growing past your flaws isn’t something that happens in a straight line. You will go back and forth, fall back into old patterns and habits, repeat mistakes. In that way Blake’s arc is a lot more realistic than what most shows would go for. Going back to her parents was a first step. She was still running away, but not just running away. It was the first step in a long process of growth. Blake has grown so much during Volume 4. She still has such a long way to go and a lot of things to figure out, but she is far away from just being where she has started. 

[redheadjcb]

Reasons I Checked Out Of “The Last Jedi”

So, I've been thinking about the The Last Jedi. Haven't really had the chance to write in depth on some of my thoughts until now. I can poke holes in the entirety of the movie all day, but I realized something. I checked out from the movie pretty early on. The issues I had later in the movie magnified my lack of enjoyment, but didn't cause it. I think that TFA has some pretty significant flaws, yet I'm able to acknowledge those flaws and still enjoy that film. Why, then, from a very early point in the movie, was I not enjoying TLJ? I think it comes down to this: From the very first scene, the movie -- the technical aspects, the plot, and the characters -- didn't unfold in a way I found believable. Suspension of disbelief was broken. With suspension of disbelief broken, I couldn't get into the movie.

It started with the premise of the film. I'm supposed to believe that, just from blowing up a single system, the First Order was able to ascend and take power in the galaxy. It was all meaningless to me. Here is where an issue from TFA carried over. TFA did nothing to define what the New Republic, the Resistance, and First Order really were. They felt contrived, not believable organizations that existed outside of whatever we saw on camera, like the Empire and Rebellion did in the OT (and Rogue One). One aspect that helped this in the OT was the time skips between each movie. The fact that time passed between each movie and the Empire and Rebellion continued, that the Rebellion set up a base on Hoth, or the Empire built the Death Star II, made them feel like their existence didn't depend on the viewer watching them. Not so with the First Order/Resistance, thanks to TLJ picking up right after TFA. They didn't feel real, they didn't feel believable, so right off the bat I wasn't invested in the First Order/Resistance conflict. Then there was the very first scene. You have Poe flying out to confront the First Order by himself. In the ensuing scene, no one acted like believable, competent adults would in such a situation, in a military engagement in a war -- except maybe the commander of the FO dreadnought. He was taken from us far too soon. Anyways. Poe's flying out there by himself, and has an exchange with Hux. What would any competent military commander do in response to Poe's charade? The moment Poe starts stalling, call him on it and just shoot him down. The FO is here to destroy the Resistance, not fight. But no! We get a quippy, Marvel-esque exchange that implicitly references cell phones and being on hold, which took me out of the experience. Then, when Poe insisted on attacking the dreadnought -- so many problems. 

First of all, why did the First Order not deploy their fighters the moment the engagement started? Why did the rest of the FO ships sit around doing fuck all for the whole engagement? If Hux hadn't fucked up repeatedly, he could have had the Resistance right there and not lost a dreadnought. Why the hell, then, did Snoke not relieve Hux of command after that, Admiral Ozzel-style?  Second, I have a very hard time believing a single fighter, no matter how good its pilot is, could take out all of a dreadnought's turrets. Are there really that few turrets that they can be taken out so quickly? What about the dreadnought's shields? Third, Leia wants Poe to pull back because he's risking the Resistance ship group (I refuse to call that minuscule group of ships a "fleet" That's another thing -- why did the Resistance have so fewer ships than the Rebellion was shown to have in TESB, ROTJ, and RO?). If she really believed the whole group was at risk, once Poe repeatedly refused to obey orders Leia should have been like, "Ok, see ya, sucker!" The moment she went with Poe's plan and deployed the rest of the fighters and bombers, the consequences were her responsibility. She was in command of those, not Poe. Yet she takes it out on Poe for the losses when he gets back! Lastly, the "bombers". They literally drop bombs on the dreadnought. In space. At point blank range. I'm not saying that space combat in Star Wars movies has been rigorously consistent with physics, by any means, but that was just too much. It took me out of the battle. Why wasn't it a bunch of Y-Wings shooting torpedoes? Seems to me they wouldn't have taken so many losses if they didn't have to get so close.

After all that, though, the nail in the coffin for my interest in and suspension of disbelief in the whole First Order and Resistance conflict came later, when the First Order caught the Resistance ships. First, I just rolled my eyes at the First Order having a super star destroyer. The Empire had a SSD, so why not give the First Order one? What was that about subverting expectations and going in a new direction? But the main issue was the ensuing chase. I did not believe it for a second. So the Resistance knows jumping to lightspeed would just be a waste of fuel since the FO would just catch them again, and just starts booking it at sublight speed instead. I can get over the fact that the ships are clearly still in visual range, but yet somehow outside the effective range of weapons. I can get over the arcing turbolasers. The hard SF lover in me cringes at all that, but I can get over it. What I can’t get over is this: did no one on the First Order -- not Hux, not Snoke, not Ren, not one of their subordinates -- stop to think, "Hey, why don't we have some of our star destroyers jump ahead of the Resistance and come at them from the opposite direction, thus forcing the Resistance ships to change course so they're no longer flying directly away from our ships chasing them, allowing us to close the distance and take them out?" It was a glaringly obvious move to make, but no, Hux contents himself to waste hours -- even days, it felt like -- just chasing the Resistance. Wasting their own fuel in the process. Thinking of which -- yeah, why wasn't fuel just as much of an issue for the First Order as it was for the Resistance? Did the FO have supply ships jumping in to bring fuel, but still didn't think to have additional ships jump in front of the Resistance? So yeah. With that gaping plot hole, I checked out of the First Order/Resistance conflict. So, setting aside that whole conflict, could I still enjoy Rey and Luke's interaction on Ach-To? No, not really. Because Luke didn't act like I would expect him to humanly react. Ok, let's accept for a moment that Luke would retreat from the galaxy and go into isolation (I didn't buy the reason that the movie ultimately gave us for him doing that, but let's just accept it for argument's sake). Let's say Luke really does resent himself, the Jedi, and all the Jedi stood for. How is tossing away his father's lightsaber AND walking away without a word at all a believable reaction? The last time he saw that lightsaber, it was in his soon to be severed hand. He really isn't at all curious how Rey got it? He isn't curious who Rey is, how she found him? She obviously came there expecting to find him, which means R2 had to be involved for the map he was carrying -- Luke's not the least bit curious about his droid friend? Instead of the natural response we might expect for Luke, we get a montage of Luke blowing off Rey and going about business on the island, including...milking a weird alien and drinking it fresh from the teat. What. The. Fuck. And Luke's behavior once Rey presumably explains the situation to him defies reason as well. Yes, ok, it's unreasonable to expect that Luke coming back will easily win the war. But it's ridiculous not to acknowledge that Luke's return would in fact be a significant boon for the Resistance. Then Luke does a bunch of equivocating between the sides, asserting that the Jedi are no better than anyone or some other bullshit. And that's what it is -- bullshit. The First Order wiped out an entire star system, with billions of people. I mean, sure, I wasn't very emotionally invested in that system's destruction back in TFA, but that's still what happened. When did the Jedi do that sort of thing? The First Order are clearly evil and need to be stopped. The Luke I knew from the original trilogy wouldn't stay out of the conflict when the lives of potentially billions more are on the line. It's morally abhorrent not to do what you can to stop the FO at that point. When Luke continued this bullshit and refused to go help the Resistance, I checked out of the events on Ach-To as well. In prioritizing "subverting expectations", Rian Johnson forgot to write possibly the most important character in the movie as a believable human being. So yeah. A couple of cents from me. Those elements are what made me check out of enjoying the movie, check out of believing that what I was watching was a plausible series of events with real humans set in the Star Wars universe. From that point on, any cool things that happened were dulled, and any further irritating things were magnified. And this is before even getting into the utter waste of time that was Finn and Rose's little escapade.

[terresdebrumestories]

For tonight, it’s enough.

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: General Audiences. WORDCOUNT: 4 660 words PAIRING(S): Taiyama CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya, Yamato Ishida, and a small cameo from baby!Garurumon. GENRE: Scratch disk. TRIGGER WARNING(S): Vague-ish references to the fact that Taichi lives under a dictature. SUMMARY: They’ve been meeting in secret for fifteen years. The night Taichi discovers there’s a way to end that turns out a lot less happy than he would have imagined. NOTE: This fic is approximately 3k words longer than I ever intended it to be, and also probably calls for a lot more worldbuilding, but I’ve been working on it unreasonably long so let’s call i done here. RIP me.

DIGIOTPWEEK 2017: [Day 1: Coffeeshop AU]

Entering the Belows has always been, and, Taichi’s pretty sure, will always be the worst part of visiting Yama. Dodging the Pluckers is hard on the heart and nerves, but he’s had almost fifteen years to get used to that part. He’s perfected the art of sneaking out of the house without notice, and moving from shadow to shadow fast enough that even a full bloom night like tonight doesn’t seem like that much of a challenge anymore.

Getting to the actual Belows, on the other hand, sucks. The first time he went there, he was running away from Pluckers, stolen sweets rattling under his shirt as he crawled past the protective barrier and dove into the collective shit of the Flower’s inhabitants. There’s no other way into the realm: you have to take a deep breath, pinch you nose closed, and let yourself sink into a city’s worth of detritus until you reach the bottom and the filtering spell spits you back on the other side, clean and smell-free but ready to puke your guts out.

Tonight is as unpleasant as ever, and experience is the only thing preventing Taichi from bending over and emptying his stomach in the Esholeu as soon as he lands. Well, that, and Yama’s hand on his shoulder, steadying him into an upright position with little circles of his thumb over Taichi’s collarbone. Taichi closes his eyes and leans into the touch with a sigh, throwing his arms around Yama’s waist and letting tension leave his body with every new breath he takes.

Yama smells like plants and wet earth. It took Taichi several months before he learned to recognize the smells, used as he was to the dry dirt and gas fumes of the Flower, people and houses fighting the vertical, almost soil-free fields they depend on for scrapes of space that won’t ever be enough. The Belows are always wet, though, the air heavy enough in Taichi’s lungs that the crack in the ground he uses as a way back to the Flower never seemed quite as oppressive as it should have. He probably owes his life to that lack of fear, but it’s not a topic he’s very keen on exploring.

“You’re early,” Yama says.

He’s frowning, a glare pinching at the edge of his blue eyes, strands of yellow hair escaping from the half-ponytail he keeps it in, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips that betrays the anger.

“I was too eager to wait.”

Yama rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest, opting to lean down for a kiss instead.

He’s been taller than Taichi since they hit their last growth spurt around sixteen, thinner and narrower than him forever, thanks in part to a mostly meat-free diet. It’s hard to maintain cattle underground, after all, and while Yama has a knack to get animals on his side, it doesn’t make his surrounding any more amenable to them.

“I was careful,” Taichi promises when they separate. “I’d know if they’d spotted me.”

“Ae doyoi uràai uy portàkàkam.”

“I don’t want me hurt either,” Taichi replies with a smile, leaning just far enough away from Yama to meet his gaze, “I swear I’m being careful, but it’s been three weeks!”

Three weeks of merchants from the other side of the Flower milling and bustling in his father’s shop, haggling over the smallest bronze seeds as if they couldn’t have spent half their weight in copper and still live comfortably for the rest of their days. Three weeks of running errands for people Taichi wishes he could have punched in the face and kicked out of his family’s home instead of being at their beck and call for the duration of their stay.

The Podmasters may insist on calling money ‘seeds’ but the truth is you can’t eat gold any more than you can eat bronze, and merchants shouldn’t be able to finagle for the price of something even they can’t live without. They do, though, and that means Taichi needs to stay home from time to time, just to make sure no one takes too much liberty with his parents’ hard work.

“Three weeks is definitely too long,” Yama agrees, but when Taichi moves in for another hug the back slung at his hip squirms and yelps with startling force.

“What’s in there?”

“A surprise!” Yama replies with a grin he visibly struggles to keep under control, gaze dropping to his bag as he pushes several pieces of linen cloth out of the way, “one of two, actually, but for now...meet Garu!”

Taichi would love to say he remains appropriately stoic, retaining the poise and control befitting of a nearly-twenty-seven-years-old-adult. He would really, really love to. The truth, however, is that the second Yamato gets the puppy out of the bag, Taichi is cooing like there’s no tomorrow and grabbing at the air until Yama plops the little fur ball in his hands.

It’s bigger than regular pups, almost the size of a full grown dog of the smaller breeds, with coarser and thicker fur. There’s no mistaking the oversized paws though, the eager eyes and the clumsy attempts at a waddle as soon as Taichi settles it in the crook of his arm. He coos at the not-so-little thing for a long moment, entranced by the blue stripes in the white fur and the gleaming but somehow adorable teeth that snap in his direction as soon as he gets too close to the puppy’s neck.

“I’m sure I look ridiculous,” Taichi says when he realizes Yama hasn’t said anything in the past few minutes, “but this thing is adorable! Where did you find it?”

There’s no way to be sure, but if it does like other dogs Taichi’s seen and doubles or triples its size, there’s no way its breed was meant to evolve in the tunnels of the Belows.

“That’s the second surprise, actually. You’ll have to trust me to get to it, though.”

At first, Taichi blinks, but it doesn’t take him long to frown. Of course he trusts Yama. He would never haver handed him his heart if he didn’t. Well, yes, he probably would have come clean about his feelings, if only out of principle, but he would have given the manner of it some thought beforehand, not just kissed him out of the blue, thank you very much.

Yama seems to be waiting for an answer, though, so Taichi nods and follows Yamato further inside the tunnels, until they reach the point where the Esholeu splits into the Iàkon and the Nopon—the Protector and the Criminal—and, for the first time in fifteen years, they follow the Nopon.

The river, Yama explained once they’d both learned enough of the other’s language to understand more complex sentences and thoughts, has been forbidden so long even the Killa forgot what’s on the other end, and living in the Belows requires too much time and efforts to allow for exploration of paths that have already been marked as undesirable—better plow on under the Flower and make more space where safety can be hoped for.

Taichi’s been curious about the Nopon from the beginning, of course, mostly on the ground that, having braved, survived, and even befriended the terrifying Creatures of the Belows (by which he means: all but charmed Yama’s people in spoiling him with the most uncanny specimen of fruits and vegetables they can find each time he visits them) there’s not much else that can hurt him but, well. The Belows are at least as vast as the Flower, and that’s big enough to host almost ten thousand souls, animals not included. Taichi never strayed from Yama’s birth level—there are others, lower down—but he still hasn’t been able to exhaust its surprises after fifteen years. It’s not like his life was lacking in adventures or discoveries up until now.

He’d be lying if he said the very choice of path didn’t make his heart race, though.

“I heard a sound coming from here about two weeks ago,” Yama explains as they follow a leveled but rough path similar to what they find on the banks of the Ikon, “and when I found Garu I wanted to see where he’d come from. I promise you I wasn’t disappointed.”

Taichi nods and follows him. Under the thin soles of his boots, the ground grows rougher, more uneven, chunks of the path gone to the Nopon and too many years of disuse. The light of sun stones from the entry point is almost entirely gone now, but Yamato doesn’t make any move to pull his out. Taichi is about to request it when there’s a gush of air against his face, and he can’t help a gasp of surprise.

It wasn’t violent, let alone painful...but it’s stronger than the kiss of warmth following a particularly fast carriage, stronger even than the fans Taichi and his family keep flapping about their faces in the summer. There’s a fresh smell on the air, too, something like plants, underlined by a sharp coolness he’s never felt before, and Taichi gropes until he finds Yamato’s hand and squeezes his fingers tight.

Garu is most definitely not a creature of the underground.

It just didn’t occur to Taichi to wonder where this ‘not underground’ place the creature came from could be.

“Be careful,” Yama warns when Taichi slows down, trying to understand what he’s seeing, “I almost fell the first time.”

Taichi blinks when a tug on his hand and a thin cloud of cold water bring him back to the present, and gapes when he realizes that, only a few meters ahead, the Nopon vanishes.

There’s almost no sound to it, just the rush of water hitting stone one last time, followed by utter silence, like the ground below is too far for the impact of water on stone to be heard from their spot. The river comes to this point, gives one last little wave in farewell, and drops down, down, down, so fast and so far Taichi is almost afraid to lean out.

“Keep your eyes on me and one hand on the wall,” Yama says, smiling as he takes Garu from Taichi’s hands and sets him back into the bag, “it’s very narrow for a while.”

Taichi, his heart firmly lodged somewhere in his throat, nods and grabs the back of Yama’s green shirt before he can do something ridiculous like sob. He’s careful not to look at anything but Yama’s neck as they walk, focusing his thoughts on the way his muscles shift under the fabric just so he won’t think about the larger-than-life gap below his feet, or the little hands of air trying to pull him off the path and into the abyss. They take ten steps, then twenty, and then they reach something large and smooth enough to have been a road, once.

Taichi clings to Yama’s tunic until they get in the middle of it, and then he crumbles to the ground.

“Are you alright,” Yama asks, barely audible over Taichi’s clacking teeth, “do you need to retch?”

Taichi, used to swallowing nausea down by now, shakes his head and swallows around the thickness in his throat, hoping against hope to get his heart and stomach back away from the vicinity of his wisdom teeth. His knees trembles. His back, neck, armpits and palm cover with cold sweat. Yama rubs at his neck and murmurs words of reassurance in both their tongues, forehead brushing Taichi’s temple in a show of sympathy.

Eventually, Taichi starts breathing again.

“Better?”

“Yes,” Taichi manages, strangled and thin against the air, but sincere, “but I don’t think I’ll be up for that again any time soon.”

“That’s fair. If you’re feeling better, you should look up, though.”

Taichi obeys, expecting to find a larger, higher version of the milky and dust-stained dome he’s lived under all his life. Maybe a cleaner one, too, to account for the brighter light—even during Full Blooms, the Flower never gets that kind of brightness at night.

When he actually processes what he sees, though, the air is all but stolen from his lungs.

Overhead, something as vast as the Earth looks down at him, blue background speckled with an infinity of bright spots like diamond dust spread on a dark fabric. They shine down, clustering in thicker clouds of silver, swirls of white mingling with the last drops of something purple that’s so far away, Taichi feels like he’s looking at the end of the world.

There’s a wall at his back, yes, and a road that leads up it—back to the Stem, probably—but anywhere else he looks the world stands: no barrier, no walls of brick with pompous names, no Pluckers ready to catch and shoot him if he even looks like he’s thinking about getting too near. No threat of vanishing for being out at night, no looming notions of torture should he slip and reveal he even knows the way to the Flower’s sewers.

His heart beats too fast and his blood rushes too loud, the foundations of his life howling as they crash to the ground and pummel at his lungs, his ribs, his eyes.

He’s crying before he manages to find proper words for what he feels.

Yama’s hand finds his, soft and unobtrusive, like they’re standing in one of the sacred places if his people instead of...instead of—Taichi’s throat tears into a sob, and he has to close his eyes. Bury his face in his hands and shy away from the vastness around him, a thousand lifetimes of lies rushing at him like a flood.

There’s nothing Outside but the Wilds. The Wilds will kill you. They will take you, they will grind you, they will poison you until you feel each and every part of you die before your brain can shut it down. The Wilds turn life into monstrous shapes, too many limbs or too little, too little lungs, too little strength, too little of anything to make a viable child.

The Wilds are forbidden, because the Wilds are Death.

Well, Taichi’s in the Wilds now, with a Riverling, no less, and he’s never seen anything half that beautiful.

“Sorry,” he manages after a long while, “I just—I never thought—”

“Me neither,” Yama says, voice barely above a murmur, “I wasn’t any better when I got here, trust me.”

Yama brings their foreheads together, and Taichi leans in until their noses touch, sighing in relief when Yama rubs them together. It’s an old gesture between them, soft and worn like comfortable clothes, the intimacy of it more familiar with every year that passes.

It does more to settle Taichi’s heart than anything else in the world.

“Better?” Yama asks for the second time.

“Mostly,” Taichi confirms, unsure how much better he’s feeling exactly, “do you have many more surprises for tonight?”

“One more. We’ll have to run if we want to catch it, though, and you won’t like it.”

Taichi leans back away from his partner, eyes snapping up to meet the frown on Yama’s brow as he tries to decipher what could possibly be left to shock him. There is a world. There is a world outside the Flower, and they can live in it! It’s too much—too intense, too vast—to process in one night but...there is a world. There is an entire world around, and they can go! They don’t have to be afraid of it—or at least, no more than the kil are!

What could possibly make this anything other than good news?

“Trust me,” Yama insists when Taichi says as much, his tone far more somber than the situation should allow, “you need to see this.”

So they rise.

Taichi follows Yama farther down the abandoned road and onto a bridge over the abyssal depth below them. He ignores the sharp jab of pain that blooms in his ribs halfway through, pushes harder against his legs when they threaten to give up, and lets Yama use a hand to pull him forward, his other arm supporting Gabu’s bag so the poor pup won’t get too jostled by the move.

They reach the end of the bridge eventually, seconds before Taichi’s lungs can actually catch fire and burn him from the inside out, and Taichi actually falls in exhaustion this time, dust-filled lungs unprepared for that kind of effort. No one in the Flower ever runs that much. It’s just a way to die faster.

“Turn around,” Yama tells him, tugging at his shoulder until Taichi gives a begrudging twitch in the right direction, “come on, turn around! It’s about to start!”

With supreme effort, Taichi finally manages to twist around and face in the right direction. At first, grass fills his vision, but a rapid squint brings the bridge—and the impossibly deep gap behind that—into focus. Beyond the bridge, a stone pillar wide enough to support the entire Flower and then some, the road he and Yama walked on snaking up the rock from the shadows, and going on until it meets the Stem.

From the inside, it’s nothing more than a smooth wall of green stone, poxed with countless arrow and bullets where people tried to climb it over the years. Taichi lost friends to that wall, some too brave and some too desperate to stay away. He’s watched neighbors and passing visitors turn their heads away so they could pretend it wasn’t really there, because no one likes to be reminded how close to their home the Wilds are. If the Stem failed, they’d be the first to die, or so they thought.

From the outside, the Stem is still green, but messy and soft with vines, flying shapes too wide to be birds floating around it like they belong there, like there’s nothing in the world to disturb them. Inside, you can get Plucked for looking at the Stem too closely. Outside, it almost makes you want to go in there for a nap.

Then, all at once, the winged creatures flee.

“Stay down,” Yama warns.

Some of the creatures are bright and colorful, some are dark and sleek as stone. One of them looks like it’s made of fire. There’s a thousand shapes, a thousand colors, more cries than Taichi can hear all in the span of a second as the creatures rush over their heads, close enough to touch, and plunge into the Wilds with the intense urgency of the truly terrified.

On the other side of the gap, the top of the Stem glows blue—a bright, sapphire color so intense it burns at Taichi’s eyes and makes him want to look away, the milky white petals of the Flower’s dome shining brighter and brighter, until even the largest of the silver circles in the sky seems dimmed by it.

One by one, the petals unfurl without a sound. Each gap frees a new volute of smoke, easy to track in the light of the dome, thick curves hovering in the air for a moment before it falls back down like pollen. Taichi watches the cloud fall and fall and fall, heart back in his throat and stomach thick with a dread he doesn’t want to name, doesn’t want to face.

He’s debating whether to turn around when something moves on the Stem. A winged shape—not a bird, or anything Taichi could name—propels itself from it, wings beating too wild in the air, like it already knows it’s lost.

The way it drops like a stone before it’s halfway thought the gap sends fire and blood in Taichi’s heart.

It beats and boils under his skin, flushes his cheeks and stings at his eyes as his hands clench into fists. His vision clouds, ears filling with a roar so strong he has to let it out—scream into the void of the night until it feels like his throat is about to rip out of him and take his soul along for the ride, until he’s bent in half and almost sick it.

Ten thousand people—ten thousands of lives, of families, of frightened people and mourning friends, ten thousands of lifetimes wasted away, millions of lives lost to black lungs and respiratory failures! And all this time, all the while, during all those funerals, everyone kept saying ‘it could have been worse’, kept thinking how much better they had it than in the Wilds, how much more toxic the air out there must be, and all that for what?

“They’re keeping it in! All that filth, all that sludge, they’re keeping it—and no one knows! Everyone thinks we’re protecting ourselves from the Wilds but we’re just keeping this in!”

“Taichi,” Yama tries, but Taichi is too furious to stop now, and he repeats:

“They’re keeping it in! You don’t know—you have clean air Below! you’ve got clean air and clean water while we stay in that damned Flower’s poisoned air, all that because they wouldn’t let any of us explore! They clung to their fear and—”

“Taichi!”

“What?”

Yama doesn’t speak right away. He gives Taichi time to calm down first, breathing and pulse slowing down to something a little closer to the ordinary before he says in a soft, sad tone:

“It’s midnight.”

Midnight. The second round.

There are Pluckers in the streets right now.

They have to have seen.

They have to have spoken.

The Podmasters can’t possibly not know.

Taichi falls to his knees, so dumbstruck he barely even notices Yama’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’ve always wondered why we even had filtering spells in the first place. They’ve been there for as long as any of my people can remember.”

“It was to keep you safe,” Taichi realizes, throat too weak and too raw to manage more than a toneless drone, “to keep our poison out.”

Slowly, with infinite care, Yama gathers Taichi in his arms and holds him there, the tight embrace a slim lifeline against the revelations of tonight.

There is a world outside.

There is a world outside, that they’ don’t have to fear.

There is a world outside they don’t have to fear, and they’re poisoning it.

Maybe not all of it. Maybe not all at once. But they are.

Worse, still, Taichi’s people are being poisoned themselves. Knowingly. Purposefully.

He was so shocked, after meeting Yama, to learn he and his brother had never lost a family member. So shocked to realize there was a place so very close to him, where children grew to know their great-grandparents and knew they’d live until their eighth decade, maybe even longer!

He wasn’t even twelve, when the two of them met, but by then Taichi already had half a dozen names on the list of people he lost. Koushiro. Iori. Two older brothers, and one younger sister that died so fast Hikari doesn’t even remember her. There were neighbors and friends and passing acquaintances and so many names he already knew, by then, he’d never be able to properly remember them all.

And now, he knows they died for nothing. Worse, they died because they were made to.

Taichi doesn’t even have the will to hide his tears in Yama’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Yama says in his native tongue, “I’m sorry. I wish it could have been a good surprise.”

A surprise, indeed. Seeds, Taichi wishes he could hate Yama just now, even for an hour, even for an instant. But then, what could he have said? ‘Sorry, love, but I think your elders are poisoning you’? Ha. Taichi would never have believed him—not until they fought and Taichi’d been dragged here and saw this for himself.

Maybe he should have suspected. All those stories about the Kil, those nightmarish legends, they were false, too, after all...but those were people. People can fight, can do terrible things and change and become good people. Memories turn to legends and myths, twisted with every mouth and every fearful set of ears. Legends about the Kil are cruel and false, yes, but they have excuses.

There’s nothing to be said in defense of what Taichi learned tonight, nothing to make it less terrible than it seems.

For a long, long time, Taichi stays in Yama’s arms, soaking up their warmth as he tries to sort through the evening, reason and explain things to himself. Eventually, though, there’s nothing to do but face the truth that’s been nagging at his ribs as soon as he understood.

“They need to know. The people in the Flower. They need to know about this.”

Yama hums in agreement. It vibrates in his chest, against Taichi’s shoulder, firm and sure.

Not a trace of surprise about it.

“You know what I was going to say the second you saw this,” Taichi realizes, “didn’t you?”

“Yes. I would have done the same in your place.”

There’s a pause as they find each other’s hand and hold on tight, only broken when Gabu starts whining too loud and Yama has to get him out of the bag.

“I don’t know if you’ll want to talk about it with me, considering I waited so long to tell you but. I have ideas.”

Maybe Taichi should be angry. Yama could have said things earlier. Even if Taichi wasn’t going to believe him, even if they would have fought about it, he could have been more direct, he could have avoided the pseudo surprise route. There are many, many things he could have done differently tonight, maybe even better. He told Taichi, though. He knew, from the second he saw this, that sharing the secret would take them on a path that may end in any number of horrible ways, and he still shared.

Say what you will about his methods, the thick and thin of it is, there’s never been anyone else in Taichi's life he felt so confident in relying on. Besides, even if he wanted to change that—even if he wanted to break from fifteen years of friendship and almost two years of something they’ve both tried really hard not to call love, well.

The only access to the Wilds goes through the Belows. He’d be stupid to cut himself off from that based on something he’s already forgiven.

“I do want to hear them. I assume they’ll be better than anything I can think of.”

Yama snorts and rolls his eyes, but he knows better than to banter just now and, not for the first time, Taichi feels grateful for the years they’ve spent learning each other’s ticks and quirks. It saves time and hard feelings.

“Let’s not do that tonight though,” he says, “let’s—”

The sound of a thousand pairs of wings cuts Taichi’s sentence short as the creatures from before fly out of the Wilds and back toward the Stem, apparently determined to get back to their nests as soon as they possibly can. They make a mighty racket, screaming and singing in the night air, almost like they’re forestalling the conversation on purpose.

Laughter bubbles in his chest before he has time to realize he’s still capable of it.

He’s still scared. He’s got no idea how he’ll go about telling his family about Yama and all the things he’s seen tonight let alone anyone else. He’s Outside, though. Outside, and free, and for one he’s not worried about coming back before the third round of Pluckers hit the streets. The revolution can wait another day, can’t it?

There’s a world outside. It’s vast, and beautiful, and terrifying, but he and Yama can exist together here—not in stolen moments sneaked out from under the Pluckers’ nose but together, as partners and equals, and equally new to the things they see.

For tonight, it’s enough.

[philanilanga-blog]

Occupational Therapy role in primary health care and the use of media to promote health and prevention.

Primary means first, care means provision of what is needed for health, this means that the communities we are working with have their first go to station, which is where their needs of care are first met, should they not, they get refered to the facilities which will be able to suits their needs  as community members. The most important and interesting  fact is that our profession in the communities that I am working with make it easier for individuals to access not only just ‘clinic services’, but they are getting more than that because I am there, providing occupational therapy spices and juices to make their lives taste even better.

Community members accessing clinics in both communities seem not to know what occupational therapy is, whilst the profession has been around for about 47 years, but still they have no clue, this tells us something whether it is us who does not let the world know what we are providing or else they are hesitating to know health services provided in their community healthcare facilities, because everyone seems to know what doctor is, what a social worker is and some of the health care professional. It breaks me to see occupational therapy translated into isiZulu as “odokotela bamathambo” when you are entering some of health care facilities in their gate boards , because this implies that we are only having those who have problems with the bones such as fractures while we treat an individual holistically including psycho-social problems. These tells us that we still somehow lack at explaining our profession in layman’s terms using other languages.

The role of OT in primary health care especially the clinics, is to form collaboration with other health care professionals by promoting health, preventing injury and by addressing occupational performance issues to promote holistic well-being in physical, mental, emotional, social and spiritual aspects (Fong & Siu, 2007) , here Fong and Siu explains clear what we do in both communities which are working on,  in addition is to firstly explain what our profession is, using the language which is appropriate for that specific community, in community A, I use English mostly because of the English speakers who are living in the community and I translate the speech to isiZulu because sometimes they mix, and in community B I use isiZulu because they are speaking isiZulu, this makes it more understandable for them. It is our role to explain to the community individuals what services do we provide and those that we don’t because if we don’t do it this will confuse the community members and they can end up asking for pills from us. Interestingly today at community B I had a chance to explain how our profession works hand in hand with culture and traditional methods, because those people’s beliefs are deep in culture and that where they started to show even more understanding because most of the conditions that we treat are highly related to those which need traditional methods to be healed. Our role in primary health care entails ‘see and treat’ at sight because we have no luxury time. We have to do health promotion talk, which include some of the elements that I have mentioned above, we have to let them know that what does it mean to take care of our bodies physically and mentally, tell them the conditions we treat and how they affect our functioning, telling parents about developmental mile stones using adult learning principles, screening the children and making necessary recommendations and referrals where needed, including people of all ages. In the community A and B, these are the common roles that the OT play, health promotion talk developmental mile stone, screening, creches. The difference is that in community A, our services are provided to home clients/ home visits, high school, primary school and in community B we see old age, work at the park. These things I have just mentioned seems to be out of primary health care but they are the factors that prevent overcrowding at the clinics because they are still influencing community members health positively, therefore reducing the risk of getting illness and end up I the clinics, because sometimes you find that in primary health care they have a shortage of supply.Considering the fact stated earlier that majority of community members accessing primary health care in the communities do not know what occupational therapy is, what can be done to avoid them knowing about us only when they start to require our services?, the answer is media, media hold intensive power in distribution of information, therefore we need to use it in telling people about our profession especially those who are not at the primary health care facilities during our talk and also use media to promote health and to encourage prevention. When using media, we need to consider the income status of individuals, to further explain this, using social media which will require money to buy data bundles for internet connection is unreasonable, because we will now be leading people to hunger especially those in rural areas. Some people do not have electricity yet, so leave televisions and radio for now.

Newspapers are more reasonable form of the media to be used, because it is cheap, it is given to clinics freely, people in urban and rural areas use them, especially in rural areas they are used to wrap lot of items once they are done reading it, they are even used in toilets in the absence of toilet rolls, therefore they more accessible than any other form of media. This can be done by ensuring that every week- month, different articles are published on health promotion and prevention, and these articles have to entail information from all of the MDT to emphasize the importance, these to be done in English and Zulu newspapers, both in those that are free and those that are for sale, this can be done by ensuing a collaboration and a relationship between the newspaper editors, journalist and health care professionals. To further emphasize this, in a UK essay in (The Power Of Mass Media,2018) newspapers have a positive influence on society, they further add that they don’t only give latest information but thy also assist with positive linkage between government and the people as government is the one who is providing basic services to community members, “if we want to know more about what is happening in the world around us, newspapers are a resource to get the daily information”.

Billboards are also highly noticeable, very attractive and strong, however less information can be revealed so to solve this, they can be placed close to each other one showing how to prevent and one promoting health, such as emphasizing on exercises, water intake, enough sleeping and reducing screen time in children and many more.

Fong, K. (2008). Occupational therapy in primary health care: A new era for involvement and contributions in the new health system in Hong Kong. Hong Kong Journal of Occupational Therapy, 18, i–ii. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/S1569-1861(08)70006-8 [Article]

Essays, UK. (November 2018). The Power Of Media Media Essay. Retrieved from https://www.ukessays.com/essays/media/the-power-of-media-media-essay.php?vref=1

[wiersema1]

The day was July 25, 1982. I was a seven-year-old boy walking into Comiskey Park for my first major league baseball game ever. My parents and sister were there too, although once I saw the beautiful green grass field I probably didn’t look at any of them again until the drive home to Lake Zurich. What I remember, and I’ll never forget, was how green the grass was. How big the field was! My seven-year-old eyes had never seen anything so pristine, so gorgeous, so wonderful. Only in my dreams would I have envisioned something so glorious. And now thirty-five years later, it remains in my dreams. When I go to sleep at night I sometimes dream of ancient ball fields like the Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, old Yankee Stadium, and old Comiskey Park. I want to go back in time and be a Giants fan in the Polo Grounds, a Dodgers fan at Ebbets, a Yankees fan cheering on one of my all-time favorites Mickey Mantle in Yankee Stadium, and I want to be a seven-year-old boy again cheering on Harold Baines and Carlton Fisk in the old Comiskey Park.

Ironically twenty-two years after that wonderful day, our first child was born. Our daughter Natalie joined us in 2004. What is it about July 25? It will always remain one of my favorite days on the calendar. Speaking of favorites, in an incredible journey as a gigantic sports fan, it’s hard to ever replace the Chicago White Sox after that illustrious start in 1982. The Sox are my favorite baseball team by far, but they may be topped by one and only one sports team.

One time around ’84 or ’85 I sat down after running around outside to watch college football on a cold autumn Saturday afternoon. I asked Dad what he was watching and who he was cheering for. From my memory, he was watching a Nebraska vs Oklahoma football game and he said he liked Nebraska and cheered for them because of their coach, Tom Osborne. He was a good respectable, Christian man who does it the right way. I didn’t need to watch for long and I was sold. Nebraska was my new team! The overwhelming amounts of red, the fans in Memorial Stadium, the dominance. As I got older and learned more about Nebraska, I was just floored by the incredible fervor surrounding this team. The story was Coach Tom Osborne had gotten so close and deserved a National Championship but was never able to fully grasp it. As the bowl losses mounted year after year, and the haters said the same stuff year after year (“Nebraska’s schedule stinks…..they will lose their bowl game against a faster team once again…….they can’t pass…….they can’t beat Oklahoma………they’re too slow……..they can’t beat a Southern team from Florida such as Miami or Florida St. anyway even if they DO beat Oklahoma”), it only fueled my desire for a Big Red Championship that much more. As the years went on and the bowl losing streak hit five and six straight years in 1991 and ’92, I was exhausted but determined to win it all. The Huskers were my team and I would help them do it with unreasonable support. I felt like the only Nebraska fan in the state of Illinois growing up. I was made fun of constantly for cheering for the Huskers.

When I went off to college to Champaign/Urbana and the University of Illinois in the fall of ’93, my allegiance to Nebraska remained. Obviously I was a huge fan of the Fighting Illini too, but it wasn’t much of a conflict since the schools were in different conferences, the Big 8 and the Big Ten. Who would have thought that Nebraska would one day join the Big 10 (now the B1G) in 2011? So when undefeated Nebraska went to the National Championship in the ’93/’94 Orange Bowl to face the 18 point favorite Florida St. Seminoles playing in their home state, most people expected the same ol’ thing would happen once again. Not me. I believed in this group of Cornhuskers. The signs were showing through like a flashlight visible through a bed sheet……hazy, but you could see the light. These Huskers were different. They had a difference maker at QB in Tommie Frazier who wasn’t scared of the Florida St. defense. Hell, he went to school with half of those guys in Bradenton, FL. The defense was now a solid attacking 4-3 under the direction of Defensive Coordinator Charlie McBride. Trev Alberts had 15 sacks from his Rush End position. Nowadays they call those guys EDGE rushers. Despite a dislocated elbow suffered in the 21-7 regular season finale victory over Oklahoma, Trev put on a memorable thick brace and totalled three sacks as he pressured Florida St. Heisman Trophy winner Charlie Ward all night! In one of the greatest Championship games ever, Nebraska lost 18-16. It was hard to hold back the tears after getting so close but ultimately falling short in that historic final minute.

As they say, the rest is history. Nebraska would go on to win three National Championships over the next 4 years in 1994, ’95, and ’97. Most experts would agree that the ’95 version is the greatest college football team of all time. Needless to say, I was ecstatic. When your team finally breaks through like the way Nebraska did in the 90s, you never go away, you never break confidence, you never give up hope. You never can renege on your fandom. What they gave you was so much, so special, so incredible that you will never forget. So I didn’t. Now we have a Big Red Room downstairs in the basement, a collection of Nebraska media guides that goes back to the ’80s, not one but two subscriptions to Huskers magazines, one unhealthy obsession with the state of Nebraska, and most importantly, a son named Trev.

Dutch Lion’s Favorite Teams

 Nebraska Cornhuskers football – “There’s No Place Like Nebraska” isn’t just a saying. I dare you to drive out to Lincoln and take it all in on an Autumn Saturday. It is truly special. “The Good Life” still exists. You just need to find it. GBR! (Go Big Red!)

 Chicago White Sox – When the Sox won the World Series in 2005, it was like living a dream. I still can’t believe they won! I seriously never thought it would happen. Whereas in other sports with other teams I am very positive and always think my teams will win it all, with the Sox it just seemed like an unreachable goal. I guess it was all those years, from ’82 to ’04 that drained my belief that it would ever happen. And then, for some reason that ’05 Title made me hungrier for more. Don’t get me wrong, that one Title quenched my thirst for several years, maybe even a decade. But now 12 years later, we’re getting hungry. Will they win again? Let’s hope. No matter what, I’ll continue to keep my streak of going to at least one game every year since ’82.

 Illinois Fighting Illini basketball – The biggest heartbreak of all was the 2005 Illinois Fighting Illini’s Road to the Final Four and the subsequent Championship that ended with a deflating loss to North Carolina. I still can’t believe this either. It all ended so sadly. We HAD that game. That was OUR year! I still refer to them as the “Real Champs”. 37-2! Only one team has ever had a better record and NOT won the Championship (’08 Memphis led by DRose was 38-2, falling to Kansas in OT). If you watched his year’s National Championship, it may have occurred to you that we had a very similar irony at play. #1 seed Gonzaga was 37-1 as they ended up losing in the last minute to those big bad North Carolina Tar Heels, just as Illinois had 12 years earlier. 37-2 once again. It brought back a lot of bad memories. I still haven’t watched the full replay of Coach Weber’s bunch in that last minute defeat. I looked it up and it’s on YouTube. Maybe one day I’ll check it out. It’s only been a dozen years of heartbreak. Someday Illinois may just go on and win that elusive National Championship, but it will never be the same. That ’05 team was the greatest of all time! They deserved the acclaim from the masses as National Champions. In fact, if one or two of those last minute threes by Luther or Deron drops, the ’05 Illini probably go down as one of the greatest college teams of all time. No matter…….to me, they will always be Champions! I-L-L!!!!

  4.  Chicago Bears – Growing up down the road from Halas Hall, it was always obvious that I would be a Bears backer. How lucky was I to be a 10-year-old in 1985?!? How lucky were we? My grandparents lived in a condo in Vernon Hills in the mid 80s. Downstairs in their unit lived #99 Dan Hampton. I know! One time my grandpa introduced me to Dan and I was completely nervous. This hulking man was my hero! I don’t remember saying anything. I’m sure I was speechless. The normal thing to say about 1985 would be that we didn’t know how great it was while it was happening, but that would be totally untrue. What was unique about the ’85 Bears was that we did indeed know RIGHT THEN that it was a once in a lifetime team. Really? The Super Bowl Shuffle!?! It all seems like unbelievable, like a Hollywood movie. Like Forrest Gump! The ’85 Bears defense remains in the Pantheon as the greatest defense of all time! Ask anyone. There will never be another team like the ’85 Bears. They were the best, they were the most dominant, and they were the most interesting group of characters on one team of all time. How do you top that? You don’t. We’ll never see anything like it again.

5.  Chicago Bulls – OMG! Here we go again…..how lucky were we to be watching the greatest of all time while we were children. I mean, seriously! Growing up in the 80s was an extremely special time to be a Chicago sports fan. I’ve been really blessed to witness the rise of Michael Jordan and the Bulls while living right down the road from the Bulls practice facilities in Deerfield. Think about it. When’s the last time you heard anyone, I mean anyone, that didn’t think MJ was the greatest basketball player of all time? 6 Titles in the 90s? Talk about expectations and greed amongst a fan base. The parade at Grant Park got to be a regular thing on the City of Chicago calendar. Since ’98 it has never been the same. It never will be. That was a special time. Could it be again? Possible but not probable. How many times do you get a once in a lifetime athlete in one city?……….Once.

6. Chicago Blackhawks – I love the Hawks but I’m not a fully invested hockey fan. What I mean by that is I never played hockey. I was never on a team and don’t understand the subtleties that only a true hockey player who has gotten coached would understand. Nonetheless, I love the sport but it’s clearly down the list as no higher than my 4th favorite sport behind baseball and football (tied for 1st) and basketball (3rd). I respect these guys as amazing athletes. Moving fast, bumping your opponents into walls, shooting a frozen puck at 100 mph, all while skating on ice??? Truly ridiculous and remarkable. Will the Hawks win another Cup? I hope so but I don’t need it. I’m not a greedy fan. Three Stanley Cup Championships over the last 8 years is enough for me to be happy. Nonetheless, I’ll “Commit to the Indian” forevermore.

7.Netherlands national soccer – “You ain’t much if you ain’t Dutch”. Cheering for the Dutch national soccer team has been one of the great, unexpected joys of my adult life. I just love the history of Johan Cruyff and the “Total Football” Dutch team. As 3 time World Cup runners-up (1974, 1978, 2010), they may be down right now, but the Dutch will one day win the World Cup…..and I can’t wait! One of these days my wife and I are going to take a trip to Amsterdam and hopefully attend a game in the ArenA. “Hup Holland Hup”!

8.  Notre Dame Fighting Irish football – I haven’t always loved Notre Dame consistently, but I usually cheer for them, often times based on their head coach. Coach Lou Holtz (1986-’96) had me enamored, especially with that 1988 National Championship team. That Fighting Irish team was one of my all time favorite single year teams. Outside of the other teams listed, ’88 ND is right up there with the ’86 New York Mets, ’93 Philadelphia Phillies, ’01 Philadelphia 76ers, ’04 Boston Red Sox, the Steve Nash era Phoenix Suns, ’07-’08 Texas Tech football, ’10 Auburn football, ’14 Oregon football, and ’16-? Villanova basketball. Those teams I followed and loved for at least one year. It’s funny but I could care less about some of these teams during other parts of their history. For example, the Phillies won the World Series in ’08 but I could care less about that particular group. Same with Auburn. I loved the Cam Newton led Tigers as he won the Heisman Trophy for them, but in other years I probably not only didn’t cheer for them, but I probably even cheered AGAINST them. The reasoning is I usually love a specific player(s) and/or coach(es). Sometimes I grow to love squads because of fantasy players or coaches that might catch my interest.

9.  Oregon Ducks football – I started following them in their ’94 Rose Bowl season. I loved this dude named Chad Cota. He played safety on that ’94 squad. Then I loved QB Joey “Heisman” Harrington during their ’01 Fiesta Bowl season. It started with Coach Rich Brooks, continued with Coach Mike Bellotti, expanded further with Coach Chip Kelly, and topped out with Coach Mark Helfrich as QB Marcus Mariota led them all the way to the National Championship game in ’14. Now that they fired Coach Helfrich, I’m in a holding pattern. Will my love for the Ducks wane?10. Washington Nationals/Dallas Cowboys/Milwaukee Brewers/Stevenson H.S. Patriots/Illinois Fighting Illini baseball/other random teams – As a huge sports fan, I’ve loved a ton of different teams over the years. I often cheer for teams because of their coach or a specific player. From Florida football during the Steve Spurrier years to Phoenix Suns basketball during the K.J., Charles Barkley, and Dan Majerle era. From the ’80s New York Mets and the ’90s Philadelphia Phillies when they had my favorite baseball player ever Lenny Dykstra leading off, to the Washington Nationals since they drafted Stephen Strasburg 1st overall in ’09 and then Bryce Harper 1st overall in ’10. I’ve always considered the Dallas Cowboys my second favorite NFL team behind the Bears. I loved Tony Dorsett and the big star on the helmet since I was a little guy. Recently, I’ve become a big Villanova basketball fan over the last few years because of Jalen Brunson committing to play for Coach Jay Wright. We know Jalen from working at Stevenson High School and it’s been quite a fun journey following his career. In fact, I just ran into Jalen the other day as he came back to his alma mater to visit. He’s a good, polite kid and we’re really proud of him. He has two years left at Villanova as he aims for his second National Title. As long as Coach Wright is there I see myself cheering for ‘Nova. There will be more teams, more coaches, and more players. As long as I’m breathing I’m sure I’ll find people to root for outside of my own special teams. I look forward to seeing where the journey takes me.

Dutch Lion Hates!

Chicago Cubs – Do I need to explain? I don’t think you want to read this. If you need more explanation, go read my previous blog posts such as “Reid ‘Em & Weep 2.5”  or The 2016 Cubs……..Not That Good! Excuse me now while I go hoist my “L” flag.

Green Bay Packers – My wife is a Packers fan from the Milwaukee suburb of Waukesha. I understand that she likes them but it’s really a shame. My brother-in-law Jay is also from Waukesha and a huge Pack fan. Meanwhile, my other brother-in-law Joe is from Deerfield and is a gigantic Bears fan. I remember when Joe and I were so excited when Brett Favre’s career was winding down because we thought the tide would finally turn for Chicago. We figured Green Bay would come back to earth after Favre’s dominant run over the Bears. Then Aaron Rodgers emerged. Really? How often does one franchise get back to back franchise quarterbacks? I can only think of two occasions….the ’80s San Francisco 49ers when they went from Joe Montana to Steve Young and then these Packers. Ugh. We’ve been in the wilderness for thirty years and are searching for our Moses to lead us to the Promised Land. My wife is great, but I’m not sure she fully understands. I know it’s cyclical. She knows too, as the ’80s Bears dominated the Packers of her youth. But when does the cycle revert back? It’s been 25 years since Favre was traded to the Packers from Atlanta (February 11, 1992) and the Bears fired Coach Mike Ditka (January 5, 1993). These two franchises have never been the same since.

Wisconsin Badgers football and basketball – As a fan of Nebraska and Illinois football and Illinois basketball, it kills me to see Wisconsin consistently winning since the turn of the century while my teams have often struggled. Along with some of the unsavory coaches in Madison (Coach Bret Bielema and Coach Bo Ryan), the Wisconsin fans are over the top. I’ve been to Camp Randall Stadium a few times and felt lucky to get out alive on my last two visits for Huskers games. The fans are sometimes rough. Isn’t getting pasted on the scoreboard enough? Have no fear……things will change. The cycle has been all roses for Wisconsin lately but it won’t last forever. The Huskers and the Fighting Illini are surging! We shall return!

And now for the Dutch Lion’s friends…….

Jeff Marchese

Age: 41

From: Darien, IL

Attended: University of Illinois (Class of ’98)

I met Jeff at the U of I in about 1994 or ’95 and we’ve been buddies ever since. Jeff is a great sports fan that currently resides in Downers Grove, a western suburb of Chicago. In fact, Jeff and I worked in radio together at WPGU in Champaign. We were both DJ’s, sports reporters, and in general, fools! We had some great times. One time Jeff was hosting a Sunday morning show called “Sports Talk” and I still remember our discussion almost 20 years later. We discussed the best point guards in the NBA and I recall listing Damon Stoudamire while Jeff mentioned Allen Iverson. Then we were talking about college football and the Fighting Illini. For some reason I mentioned that Penn St. was really tough and don’t count them out because of their defense headed by Defensive Coordinator Jerry Sandusky. I know…..twenty years later, it’s haunting.

Jeff Marchese’s Favorites:

Illinois basketball & football

Chicago White Sox

Chicago Bears

Chicago Blackhawks

Chicago Bulls

Jeff Marchese’s Hates:

NFL –maybe Patriots although I respect what they’ve been able to do

NBA –Lakers and Knicks maybe?  Tired or hearing people say you have to be on the coast as a player to make money.  Although league does suffer when they aren’t good

NHL  –maybe the Ducks?  Stupid name.

MLB –don’t hate the Cubs but don’t cheer for them.  And I hate the Red Sox/Yankees “rivalry” since it’s so overplayed by ESPN.

NCAA –Muck Fichigan!

  “I would love if my alma mater won a championship and help keep up any pride in the school which has disappointed me years after year in both football and basketball.  After that I’d go with the White Sox.  Their championship seemed to mean more to me than those of the Bulls, Hawks, and even the ’85 Bears win. Although I betcha can’t find a true Chicagoan that doesn’t know the entire offensive and defensive starters for that Bears team.  Several diehards even knew the backups. And despite my favorite sport being college football, my allegiance to teams other than Illinois always tends to drift towards players that I love…even Oregon and Texas.” – Jeff M.

I love Jeff’s comments. He touched on a bunch of hot button topics that I also covered above such as the ’85 Bears and liking “players” from fantasy teams. Sometimes it takes loving players and getting to know them as individuals first, THEN adopting their teams as your favorites. As usual, Jeff’s comedy shone through on comments about hating the Anaheim Ducks and Michigan Wolverines. Well done! Thanks for your help and your opinion Jeff!

Jeff and I (circa ’98)

Mike Lis

Age: 43

From: Darien, IL

Attended: Western Illinois University (Class of ’97)

Mike is Jeff’s cousin. He started visiting Jeff in Champaign in the mid 90s. Jeff and I used to hang out at work as well at local establishments such as KAM’s. So when Mike visited we would go out together in Chambana. Naturally, we became close. We’ve been through a lot together. In fact, we even married girls that were roommates. It all started when Mike and I were living together. His girlfriend Julie was living with Deborah. We went on a double date. The rest is history. Mike and Julie got married in June 2000. Six weeks later Debbie and I got married. We’ve both been married for 17 years now. Needless to say, we’ve been buddies ever since. We remain great friends, despite some of Mike’s allegiances.

Mike Lis, Jeff, and I at Sox/Blue Jays game, July 6, 2015

Mike Lis’s Favorites:

Chicago Bears – For the same reasons I listed above, Mike loves the Bears because growing up in the 1980s with the ’85 Bears team was special. It wasn’t just 1985 either. Don’t forget this Bears team headed by Head Coach Mike Ditka won the NFC Central Division five years in a row from 1984-1988. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone our age that grew up in Chicagoland that does NOT like the Bears. Mike stated, “This was the team of our childhood”.

University of Michigan basketball and football – Mike’s dad and his uncle both attended Michigan so Mike heard “Go Blue” most of his life. He loved the Fab Five era basketball. As a Western Illinois alum, Mike doesn’t have a natural D1 school to cheer for so I think it makes sense that he now cheers for one of the Big 10’s perennial powers.

New York Yankees – Mike lived in New York City in 2000-’01 and thus he grew to love America’s most iconic team. Living in NYC during the Yanks amazing run of 4 Championships in 5 seasons didn’t hurt (’96, ’98, ’99, ’00).

Chicago Bulls

Chicago Blackhawks

Mike Lis’s Hates:

Green Bay Packers – When I asked Mike about who he hates, he got really lit up! In fact, I could feel his heart rate increasing as he dived into the conversation. It was an amazing interview where the tension increased exponentially. I wish I would’ve recorded this conversation but I’ll try to recreate it this Summer during our annual golf match.

Pete Carroll – Words used to describe Carroll, courtesy of Mike, “He’s so shady, he’s a cheater, he’s lucky too….I hate him!”

Pat Riley – This one caught me off guard a bit. I had forgotten how much Bulls fans hated Riley in his N.Y. Knicks days. Now I remember…..the slicked back hair, the dirty play of guys like Anthony Mason, Derek Harper, Charles Oakley, Charles Smith, Patrick Ewing, John Starks……that was seemingly encouraged by thug-master Pat Riley. I’m pulling my hair out all over again.

Good stuff Mike! Thanks for your comments and quotes.

Mike Lis and I golfing – October 9, 2015

  Mike Feigh

Age: 36

From: Willowbrook, IL

Attended Concordia University

I just met Mike about seven years ago at work. We both work at Stevenson High School in Lincolnshire, IL. Mike is a former assistant basketball coach for Stevenson and is a huge sports fan. He loves fantasy sports and dominates his leagues the same way he dominates life. Here’s his list:

Mike Feigh’s Favorites:

Notre Dame football

Villanova basketball

White Sox baseball

Hawaii football – I was surprised to hear that Mike’s father went to Hawaii and played quarterback for the Rainbow Warriors back in the ’70s. Aloha Stadium, Honolulu, Waikiki…….very cool.

Mike Feigh’s Hates:

Coach John Calipari

Coach Bill Self – Mike mentioned that he not only hates Coach Self for the way he treated Illinois but also for his recruiting tactics. Paraphrasing Mike, he even went so far as to say, “I don’t want to give the details but you’d be appalled at what he tried to do to get Jalen Brunson away from Villanova.”

Coach Pete Carroll

So now you know where the Dutch Lion stands. Who do you love? Who do you hate? Tell me about it in the comments section. Next up on “Reid ‘Em & Weep”……..the NFL Draft Preview!

Reid ‘Em & Weep (2.6) – The “Dutch Lion’s” Favorite Teams The day was July 25, 1982. I was a seven-year-old boy walking into Comiskey Park for my first major league baseball game ever.

[terresdebrumestories]

Kechibi

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: General Audiences. WORDCOUNT: 5 758 words PAIRING(S): Pre-Taiyama CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya & Yamato Ishida, with cameos from Sora Takenouchi, Takeru Takashi and Michel Takashi. GENRE: Will you just stop it? TRIGGER WARNING(S): Some l light references to depression and Yamato staying in a psychiatric hospital for a while. SUMMARY:  From: Yamato To: Sora ’got 2nd degree burns from a head in a fire ball last night’ Or: Yamato didn't really think spirits from his childhood stories were real, but if he had he certainly wouldn't have expected to meet one in the French countryside. NOTE: I would have gone further into the comedic potential of kechibi spirits, but I figured this story was already long enough as it was, and I didn’t want to fall into disrespect (since I only did realy cursory research) so here we go.

DIGIOTPWEEK 2017: [Day 1: Coffeeshop AU] [Day 2: Fantasy AU] [Day 3: Profession AU] [Read on AO3]

Yamato swears so hard, once he finally figures out what the problem with his bike is, that a rabbit jumps right out of its hiding spot and into the grazing field on the other side of the road. It can’t really be blamed for it: it’s midnight on a chilly, damp August night, and the poor creature probably thought it was safe from stupid humans who don’t have anything better to do than break down in the middle of the night.

Clearly, it never anticipated Michel Takashi’s ancient relic of a motorbike, or the absolute absence of patience Yamato suffers from at the moment.

 He swears for an unreasonably long time, mixing the few Russian curse words he remembers from high school with the full extent of his French vocabulary, until realizes he’s up for at least two hours’ walk, pushing a bike uphill and, most likely, in the rain. Honestly, at times like these, he almost wonders what’s the point of having enough strength to leave the house if he’s going to end up in these situations.

He knows the answer, of course, and wouldn’t trade the propensity to spiral down into irrational anger or despair for the gaping nothing that were the past few months, but that doesn’t make his present situation any more enjoyable.

 At least he didn’t break down on a dirt trail.

 He’s been at it for about half an hour, earphones blasting a long string of insults vaguely put to music at an unreasonable volume, when he notices a flame in the wheat field to his right. The weather as been awful since he got to France, so it’s unlikely to set the crop on fire, but where there’s a fire there’s a person and, in this case, they’re probably trampling around in the wheat.

Yamato, who needs something to throw his annoyance at, decides to be a proper farmer’s grandson and go kick an idiot’s ass.

 “Oi!” he starts, not interested in how odd that’ll sound to French ears, “you gotta turn your thing off! You’re gonna damage the crops!”

 He has to walk along the field for a bit before he finds the entry path and follows the tire tracks from the tractors into the wheat, stomping more than he walks. Not that it seems to bother whoever decided to get a hot snack in the middle of the night, though, because there’s no movement or sound of any kind, not even when Yamato growls and calls out again:

 “Hé! Piss off before you do anymore damage, dumbass!”

 Still nothing. The wind picks up a little and the flame shivers, but as for the rest Yamato might as well be pissing in a violin—either the bastard is entirely deaf, or they’re ignoring him on purpose. Given the general conditions of deaf people in the country, Yamato’s inclined to believe it’s the later, and bright hot anger clenches his fingers into fists right before he decides to use his grandfather’s tried and true technique: just yell at them in Japanese.

True, the reason it works for Michel Takashi probably is that he’s a super-white octogenarian with the general silhouette of a particularly ill-combed leek, but if Yamato hasn’t let his obvious Japaneseness hold him back before he really doesn’t see why he’d start now.

 (Ironically enough, there is also something viciously satisfying at making himself so other in his country, his culture and origins spontaneously and universally recognized and accepted in a way they rarely are at home. Who knew racist ignorance could do good things for his brain.)

 “Sir!” He shouts, using the lower tones of Japanese to make his voice sound scarier, “could you please put your fire out and leave the field? You’re damaging the crops!”

 The flame grows several centimeters after that, fizzles out, and reappears right in front of Yamato’s knees with a relieved:

 “You speak Japanese! Can you help me? I’m lost!”

 Yamato blinks.

 Pinches his arm.

 Does it again, but harder this time, digging his nails into the flesh for good measure.

 Everything hurts the way it’s supposed to, so he’s probably not sleeping but, despite that, the flame is still here.

 Clearly, he’s gonna need to check out his meds’ notice when he gets home.

 “Can you help me?” The flame repeats.

 It’s got a pleasant voice. Lighter than Yamato’s, maybe a bit too loud, but relatively pleasant.

 It would, of course, be even better if it didn’t come from a fire that gives the inexplicable impression of being a head with far, far too much hair on top of it in the middle of asking a question. For a moment—a couple of seconds, at most—Yamato tries to make sense of it all.

Then he decides he doesn’t have the strength for this mess and walks away, refusing to let himself slow down even when the fire’s voice gets louder.

 “Please,” it yells, far closer than Yamato would have thought, “I’m lost!”

 Don’t talk to it, Yamato tells himself, that’s how people get themselves interned. Just ignore it and it’ll have to stop, eventually.

 Right. Because this is exactly how hallucinations work.

 “I’m lost! Please! I’m lost!”

“Buy a map!” Yamato tosses over his shoulder, heart in his throat as he reaches the exit path.

 He’s giving himself a rather severe mental talk down by the time he reaches the motorbike and starts pushing on the handles. He’s finally lost it, there’s no way around that, but that doesn’t mean he’s got to go and make it obvious, for heaven’s sake!

 “Please! I’m lost, help me please!”

 Yamato screams and lets the bike stumble into the irrigation ditch when the flame touches his calf, searing pain shooting up his leg and sending his heart in overdrive. He whines in pain as he slaps the fire out, a litany of apologies floating in his ears even when he forces himself to his feet and takes off at a run toward his grandfather’s home.

 ***

He doesn’t remember getting home, let alone in bed, but he must have managed it somehow because, when the pain finally gets too much to bear, his eyes immediately land on the old dance trophy that resides on the bedside table of his mother’s childhood bedroom. He hisses and grits his teeth against the pain to sit up...and yells when the movement causes the sheets to brush on exposed muscles.

He’s still swearing by the time he gathers the courage to check, heart racing like it’s going for a gold medal in the fear Olympics.

There’s almost no skin left on the back of his right leg, raw flesh exposed to the morning air like a painfully undercooked steak. There are blisters all over it, one of them almost the size of an egg, and jeans fibers stick to the wound in a couple of places. It could probably be worse, but it’s bad enough to make him dizzy and vaguely nauseous.

He has to grip the edge of the bed with white knuckles before he tries to stand, and when he tries to put a foot in front of the other the pain, sharp and raw like nothing else, catches him fast and hard enough that he yelps and falls to the ground, wincing when the door open to reveal his grandfather standing there with his night gown and a panicked expression on.

“What did you do?” He yells in French when his gaze lands on Yamato’s calf.

“I didn’t do anything, it’s—”

A pained exclamation cuts through Yamato’s sentence when his grandfather plucks the jean fibers out of the burns, and it’s all he can do to get his breath back while Papy Michel chastises him:

“You couldn’t just do that with a knife, could you? You could have set the house on fire!”

“But that wasn’t me!”

He knows he’s lost before his grandfather speaks again. It shows in the way his features go from worried granddad to steely war veteran and, even if that wasn’t enough of a tell, the fact that he reverts to Japanese for the next sentence is a dead giveaway.

“Can you get to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” Yamato confirms with burning eyes, “I’ll manage.”

It’s easier to brace himself for the pain now that he knows what it’ll be like. With a wince, he bites on the pained sound that tries to get out of his throat and pushes himself upright, grabbing his phone on his way up. If his grandfather won’t listen to what he’s got to say, he might as well reach out for people who will.

‘got 2nd degree burns from a head in a fire ball last night’ he texts to Sora, before transferring the message over to Takeru.

It’s a little over seven PM back in Tokyo, so he’s not surprised when Sora answers first:

‘Did your dosage change recently?’

‘np & nothing causes hallucinations, I checked + I was in a wet wheat field. Nothing to burn me w even if I was seeing things’

‘Yikes. How did your granddad take it?’

‘badly’

‘YIKES. Hang in there & phone me when you can. My new pill keeps me up anyway.’

Yamato promises Sora to call her as soon as he’s done getting bandaged—possibly with lunch, too—and does his best not to be too obvious about how much he wants this thing to be over already.

“You know,” his grandfather tries after a while, eyes straying toward Yamato’s phone almost too quick to be noticed, “if you want to talk about this, I can—”

“Sora says hi,” Yamato says, heart in his throat, before the sentence can end.

“What?”

“Sora. My friend from the hospital. She says hi.”

She never had even the beginning of a will to get in touch with Yamato’s family, a sentiment he approves of and mirrors entirely, but mentioning her is a surefire way to cut any conversation short without having to provide an excuse. It’s not that Yamato’s family isn’t trying to support him. They are.

It’s just that they don’t exactly understand one another at the best of time, and neither his parents nor the two grandparents he still has were prepared to deal with the kind of issues Yamato turned out to have. His friendship with Sora, born and forged in the heart of a psychiatric ward, is quite possibly too much of a reminder for them to be fully comfortable with it.

“Good,” Papy Michel mutters with a bit of a strangled voice, “that’s good. Well, you’re all patched up now. Don’t get this dirty.”

Yamato nods and gives a perfunctory mutter about wanting a smoke before he makes his exit to the garden, where he promptly lights a cigarette. He can’t honestly say he needed it right this second, but since he’s here he might as well indulge and settle his nerves.

Besides, it’ll give him some space to answer Takeru’s incoming text.

‘Dsnt that sound lk 1 of grdma Fumikos stories?’

‘wut?’

‘the head ina fire thing. Its a Kõchi story no?’

‘maybe idk’

‘ill check’

Takeru doesn’t really need to check, seeing as his comment actually reminded Yamato of the legend in question, but waiting for more information gives hims something to do while he finishes his cigarette, and it’s as good an excuse as any to stay away from his grandfather for a bit.

The thing he met—the thing he thought he met—was probably a kechibi: some poor sod’s spirit literally rolled right out of them and into a fireball, for whatever reason. It can’t be real, of course, and Yamato feels stupid for entertaining the notion now, but he used to be a hardcore believer when he was younger. Not, as his grandmother first thought, because he was afraid of them, but because she used to say some kechibi were wrathful spirits, meant to exact vengeance on those who wronged them during the day.

The amount of time Yamato spent nursing his resentments, during middle school, hoping he’d generate a kechibi powerful enough to take care of his worse bullies, was probably not very healthy. He can’t say he regrets it, though of course he’s given up on their existence a long time ago now. After all, he may go to a temple on a semi-regular basis, half-because he wishes he’d believe again and half because the atmosphere soothes him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t realize that legends are just that. Legends.

‘how do u explain the burns then?’ Takeru asks when Yamato points that out.

‘dunno. Y do u even want it 2 b real?’

‘either it’s real or u burned urself & fabricated the encounter 2 cover it up. Whether were talking hallucinations or lies I prefer the 1st option’

‘...ngl, so do i’

It’s getting late by now, the butt of Yamato’s cigarette long discarded in the ashtray he keeps on the low wall protecting the vegetable garden, so he wishes his brother goodnight and finally goes back inside for lunch. He answers his grandfather’s questions—in Japanese, for the most part—without lying, though he’s careful not to mention the kechibi, and they spend the next few hours figuring out how to get the motorbike out of its ditch and into a garage shop.

The words ‘please, I’m lost’ float in Yamato’s mind the whole way through.

***

‘You’re a nutcase,’ Sora texts when Yamato finishes telling her about his projects for the night.

‘tell me somthng I don’t know’

‘No, the depression is regular crazy. This is just nuts.’

‘im going now ttyl’

Yamato can almost ear Sora’s disbelieving little snort as he sneaks out of the house and climbs on the mountain b ike his grandfather borrowed from a neighbor on his behalf. She doesn’t let it out as often as he does, but sometimes she’s got enough sarcasm to give him a run for his money and, honestly, the only reason he doesn’t keep texting her is because he has no intention to die on the road tonight.

Still it’d be nice if he could. He’d feel a little less stupid, for one. How else could he feel when he’s on his way to a freaking field in the middle of nowhere just so he can maybe have a—second—conversation with a head in a fireball.

Ridiculous doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The ride goes peacefully. There ’s next to no traffic on the roads as it is, let alone at eleven at night, and the weather finally cleared so aside from the darkness it isn’t that different from Yamato’s usual exploration of the countryside. There’s a sense of trepidation in him his usual outings lack, though.

The countryside in this part of France is dreadfully empty—not even five hundred persons in his grandfather’s village—and it doesn’t even have the decency to make up for it with particularly beautiful landscapes. Yamato had been spending most of his days out so far, but it’s a way to be alone with his thought and away from his grandfather’s worried incomprehension more than a show of appreciation for the place, r eally.

Add a healthy dose of depression to that and, well. That’s all you need to know about Yamato’s current hobbies, really.

There’s a real purpose to this particular trip, though, if only to figure out whether that thing really is real—it can’t be. Legends aren’t real! But then Yamato’s burn, still throbbing under the bandage and disinfectant, is, so there’s that. He pulls into the entry path to the field with a sigh and one last volley of disbelieving insults to his own intellect, and rests the mountain bike down on its handle before stepping onto the tire tracks.

The full moon’s getting near which, if legends are to be believed, make the possibility of a spirit encounter even more likely. Of course, that’d feel a little more logical if he weren’t thousands of miles away from Japan in a field that is painfully, obviously empty—of people and of flame.

Yamato is running a hand over his face with a weary sigh when there’s a firecracker sound, and he jumps about thirty centimeters into the air, shrieking as he lands on his ass and damages a sizable patch of wheat, as well as the butts of his hands, in the process.

“Shit, warn a guy would you?”

The face in the fireball doesn’t have very definite features, except maybe for the ridiculous excess of hair, but it still manages to convey a decent air of contrite confusion as it settles down at some distance from Yamato’s legs. Good. Not only does that mean he won’t get burned again just yet, it should also spare him the mental image of a head bouncing after him like a rubber ball which, as his irreverent conversation with Sora this afternoon attests, is nothing short of ridiculous.

Still, the head looks like it sort of feels bad, so Yamato sighs, shifts his mental processes over to Japanese, and says in as calm a voice as he can manage:

“Excuse me, oh Spirit, but what are you doing here?”

The flames around the head brighten, and the vague hint of eyebrows raise up as the head exclaims:

“You speak Japanese! Can you help me? I’m lost!”

“So I understand,” Yamato says, a not-so-small part of his brain still yelling at him to go home and get a grip.

The rest of him figures it can’t be worse than staring at the ceiling and hope for something to come and jump start his emotions back to life.

“Who are you?”

There’s a pause, like the head is gathering breath, and then:

“I’m lost, sir.”

“Yes. You mentioned that. Where are you from?”

There’s another, longer pause, and the flames around the kechibi’s head dim a little before it—he?—tries in a hesitant voice:

“I’m lost.”

“Alright,” Yamato sighs, distantly relieved this thing is managing to irritate him, “let’s try something different. Do you have a name?”

“I have a friend!” the kechibi answers, voice piping so high it sounds more child-like than the adult voice it had before.

It’s not the answer Yamato was aiming for, but it’s a step out of the ‘I’m lost’ loop, so he’ll take it.

“What’s you friend’s name?”

“Koushiro.”

There’s happiness in that one name, like saying it is enough to put the kechibi in a good mood, and a trickle of dread worms its way inside Yamato’s heart. He really hopes he’s wrong about where this is going.

Maybe this Koushiro person is just a close friend.

“Do you know where Koushiro is?”

Pause. Dimming flames.

“...I’m lost.”

Evidently, not the right question to ask. This is going to be tricker than he thought it would be.

At least, he reminds himself, it’s not a wrathful one. He hasn’t believed in literal spirits in a long time—tending to interpret them as energies of some sort more than anything else—but he did grow up with a healthy respect for them. That, and a certain awareness of their potential for harmful behavior, because respecting spirits doesn’t mean pretending they’re only ever nice and fluffy.

Hell, even his mother, who is a practicing Catholic, always told him not to anger any spirit, that’s how well aware of their nature he is.

This one though? More confused than angry. It’s honestly the only thing that keeps him from turning heels and leaving it to its own devices. Instead, he follows his earlier inkling, and asks:

“What’s Koushiro like?”

Look, Yamato isn’t usually the type to compare real life to movies but, one, he’s literally talking to a spirit so the usual rules can suck it and, two, there’s really no other way to describe the way the kechibi glows other than Ghibli-like. It’s like watching a flaming, wild-haired version of Ponyo puff itself up and yell:

“Awesome!”

It’s a good thing it looks so cute, because it means Yamato doesn’t have to fake his little smile when he replies:

“That great, uh?”

“Yes! He’s smart, and he’s funny and he knows how to do so many things with computers! And he’s nice and sometimes he forgets to it so I bring him food and then he smiles and we laugh a lot. He’s a really good friend.”

It’s funny the kechibi’s voice should sound like a child’s. Yamato can’t know for sure tit’s not its real voice—although the head seems large for a kid’s, and it did start out speaking in deeper tones—but even then there’s something so...innocent about the way it sounds. There’s no fear, no embarrassment, no self-disgust here, just pure affection and a fondness that can never be faked.

He sort of wishes he’d get to have that.

“He does sound pretty amazing,” he says, trying to keep the wistfulness out of his voice. “How long have you known him?”

“Oh, forever, I’m sure,” the kechibi replies, head tilting back like it’s looking for an answer in the stars, “I don’t remember not knowing him.”

“That’s quite a long time.”

“Yes, but it’s nice! Don’t you have someone you’ve known forever?”

“Not really,” Yamato shrugs, “my oldest friend is my little brother, but I remember what it was like when he wasn’t there.”

Dimly, in short flashes that mostly consists of the few weeks before Takeru’s birth, but Yamato still remembers.

“Do you like your brother a lot?”

Yamato blinks at the change of topic, in part because he was starting to get lost in his own thoughts, but also because he’d kind of given up on the kechibi extending their conversation topics on its own. Evidently, he just hadn’t found the right angle.

“Yes,” he says, settling into a more comfortable position, “I do.”

“How much?”

Oh well. If he’s gonna hear a kid’s words in a kid’s voice, he might as well go the whole way.

He extends his arms as far as they’ll go before he says:

“That much.”

He really hopes this kechibi didn’t come from an actual child, though. If he’s right, and there’s less an less hold on the hope that he isn’t, then he really hopes it’s happening to someone who’s old enough to mostly bounce back from it.

“I,” the kechibi says, the flames at the side of its head widening like they’re trying to imitate Yamato’s gesture, “like Koushiro thiiiiiiiiiiis much!”

The fire licks at a couple of strands of wheat on the side, and Yamato is halfway to his feet before he realizes nothing caught fire. In fact, aside from the damage he inflicted, it’s like nothing’s happened here at all.

Well, good to know major burns are a human-only experience, he guesses. Could have done without the discovery, though.

“Oh, sorry,” the kechibi says, dimming and shrinking as it talks, “sorry, sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Yamato reassures it, one hand straying to his calf, as if he could have forgotten the wound there, “it’s not so bad, and you didn’t—”

“Koushiro is a boy,” the kechibi shrieks.

Fuck, Yamato thinks.

He was right.

The spirit vanis hes with a loud snap before he can fully figure out what to tell it.

Yamato waits for the kechibi to return for a long, long while, even going so far as to call out once or twice, but to no avail. The spirit, it seems, is either back to its body, or determined not to come back. Yamato could wait it out until morning if he wanted, he’s definitely got the hang of not moving of uncomfortable length of time. That would probably result in his grandfather having a stroke in worry, though, and he’s not so far down that it’s something he’ll let happen anymore.

Besides, even supposing he stays here all night and his grandfather either doesn’t notice or survives the experience unharmed, anyone who lives within in a twenty kilometers’ radius would soon know about how Michel Takashi’s grandson slept in a field. He’s already the local weirdo, there’s no need to add to that.

He calls out for the kechibi one last time, then looks around to make really sure no one hears him when he promises to come back the following night.

By the time he gets back to his bed, he’s tired enough that even his brain can’t keep him awake.

***

The kechibi is already there by the time Yamato makes it to its field on the third night and he thinks, a little stupidly, that he might have to find it a name at some point. It’s ridiculous, really, these things are supposed to be people’s souls, not pets. It feels weird not to have a name to give it, though, so it doesn’t hurt to think about it.

It isn’t a priority though, and as soon as Yamato is within speaking distance of the spirit he makes sure to say:

“It’s alright that Koushiro is a guy.”

The kechibi’s features are a little more defined when he looks up to stare at Yamato. Its hair, still overgrown, is dark brown, a little paler than the stereotypical Japanese black. Its nose is short, its mouth a little too thin but somehow friendly, as if made for smiling. It’s the kind of smile that half begs you to be telling the truth, half asks if you wanna be friends.

If maybe you already are a friend.

Yamato’s Gay Epiphany wasn’t what sent him to the psychiatric ward but damn, he would really have loved it if someone would have put that kind of expression on his face instead of having to figure it out on his own.

“It really is.”

“It’s alright,” the kechibi repeats, its flames growing a little taller, a little brighter.

“Yeah.”

“Koushiro’s a guy. And it’s alright.”

“Completely alright.”

He’s not sure how a disembodied and mostly featureless head manages to make fondness bloom in the vicinity of his heart but, eh. It’s a spirit. They do weird things, like burn people by accident while leaving crops alone or, in this case, flickering and changing colors at a steady pace.

Flick-orange, flick-redder, flick-range, flick-redder.

“That’s funny,” Yamato says after a moment of silence, “your flames.”

“What about them?” the kechibi asks as if having fire all around your head was a normal, every day occurrence.

It probably is to a spirit, mind you, but that doesn’t mean Yamato can’t keep in mind how surreal the entire thing is.

“The way they change color. It’s like a heartbeat.”

“Heart?”

“Yeah,” Yamato replies, deciding to try and circle back just to see if their conversation changed anything, “it’s what you like people with.”

“I like Koushiro a lot.”

The flames don’t widen like enthusiastic little arms this time, but considering there’s no abrupt disappearance either, Yamato decides he’s okay with it.

“Yeah. It’s alright to like him a lot.”

It sort of feels like Yamato should be trying to have this conversation with a more elaborate vocabulary, mostly because the face in the flames doesn’t really look child-like. Sometimes, though, even adults need to get simple words, and this one hasn’t protested the lack of over-three-syllables lexicon yet.

“Jyou doesn’t like Koushiro as much.”

Ah, yes. That’s the fun part, as far as Yamato remembers, the moment he went from a relieved, almost elated ‘this is why it’s not working with girls’ to ‘oh fuck, now I’m even more different’.

There were other components, too, things being straight wouldn’t have changed like, oh, being blond or being socially awkward, or having lucked out at the brain make up lottery—although that point might have been easier to deal with in a different world. The fact remains that, even though his Big Gay Epiphany was, depression aside, a mostly smooth process, that part was particularly hard to swallow.

Still is, whenever it rears its ugly head, but Yamato learned to suppress his gag reflex by now.

God, this metaphor is getting out of control.

“Not everyone likes boys this way,” he says instead of trying to examine that strange train of thoughts.

“Boys don’t.”

“Some do. I do. Some girls don’t like boys that way, either. My best friend Sora, she prefers girls. The person she’s in love with is a girl.”

“I like girls a lot too,” the kechibi says, like it’s correcting a mistake, “and I like Koushiro.”

“Well, you’re allowed to like both. You’re allowed to like any kind of person.”

“Mom will be angry.”

“Maybe she won’t,” Yamato counters, because it’s true. Not everyone gets terrible reactions. “Even if she is, there’s nothing she can do against it. No one can stop you from liking people.”

Yamato has to hide his eyes behind his arm when he ends his sentence, and even then it’s not fast enough to prevent him from seeing spots for the next ten minutes, at the very least. He really, really hope no one was awake to see that, because he’s got no idea how he’d explain it.

Somehow, he doesn’t think ‘sorry, some poor fucker was having an identity crisis in the countryside’ would appease many people.

“I love him so much,” the kechibi says.

It’s quiet and wistful, back to the deeper tones of the first night. There’s acceptance in that, and some relief, but there’s grief, too, and Yamato isn’t quite sure whether the guy is grieving the safety of straightness or the possibility of something happening with Koushiro.

Either way, he’s definitely back in a headspace where he’s aware of the potential ramifications of his recent discovery, and Yamato knows exactly how that feels.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I can tell. Sorry.”

This time, when the kechibi pops out of the conversation, Yamato doesn’t bother waiting around before he leaves.

***

When he reaches the field the next evening, he’s almost afraid to find it empty. Sure, it’d mean no more risk of sounding like a complete nutcase, but then again...well, the spirit was the first person he had a real conversation with in this country, including his grandfather. He thinks it’s understandable that he doesn’t want to let go of the connection just yet.

Doesn’t prevent him from swearing blue murder when the kechibi startles him again, though.

Yamato ignores the kechibi’s surprised stare as he slaps dirt off his jeans and checks the state of his hands...yep. Fresh scraps. Damn it.

Then, because there’s only so long he can ignore a pair of big, almost pleading brown eyes in a fireball looking up at him, Yamato sighs:

“What?”

“Why do you keep speaking in a different language? I don’ understand it.”

“We’re in France. If you wanted to hear Japanese you shoulda had your out of body experience back home. Why don’t you ask Koushiro out if you like him that much?”

“He’s aromantic. He told me last week.”

“Ah. Tough luck.”

Brown eyes look down, shadowing a vague hint of pinched lips and, well, yeah. It’s not like there’s anything wrong about the aromantism thing, it’s just inconvenient for the spirit’s love life at the moment.

“It’s not a problem,” the kechibi says, looking like it’s shrugging nonexistent shoulders, “I’ll get over it.”

“Of course. Doesn’t mean the first few days of it are fun. Is that why you’re here?”

“What? No. I’m on vacations with my family.”

Yamato would be lying if he said he doesn’t smile at that. Sounds like the spirit isn’t so lost anymore.

“Anyway,” the kechibi adds with the tone of someone who’s trying really hard to convince themselves, “at least it taught me something about myself. It’s….”

“Kind of painful and coming with a whole lot of unpleasant strings attached?”

Okay, Yamato knows he sounds harsh, here, but this is honestly the easiest part of this whole story so far. He’s had plenty of time to think about the sort of unpleasant reactions people could, would, and did have to learning he was gay.

“If it makes anything better,” he says as he sits down in the grass of the entry path, “you learn to enjoy the cool parts more than you think about the bad ones. Those are only there because people are ridiculous.”

“No offense, but ‘ridiculous’ coming from you sounds somewhat...nice.”

“Just wait ‘til I can handle more than two languages again,” Yamato replies with a shrug, “I’ll show you how mean I can be.”

The kechibi snorts at that, laughter burying itself in the ground next to Yamato’s feet, and the only reason Yamato can think of for that is that the poor guy’s had a pretty stressful week. It’s got to come out somehow.

Besides, it makes him chuckle, too. It’s not actual laughter yet, but it’s been a while since he did that and really mean it, so he figures he might as well enjoy this new step on the path of re-recovery or something.

“I’d like to do that, actually,” the spirit says with one last huff of breath. “I really was lost and you...you got me out of it.”

“Well, my twitter handle’s @yamaNO, if you want to get in touch there. I have a rainbow-filled silhouette as a profile pic.”

“Okay!” The kechibi agrees with more enthusiasm than Yamato feels is needed, “I’ll check you out!”

A second passes.

“I mean, I’ll check IT out. It. Your profile. Soon. Tomorrow. Oh my god this is—I really should go….”

He snaps out of existence before Yamato can ask for his name.

***

Yamato is wasting time around the web the next day, trying really hard to pretend he’s not checking his twitter tab every five seconds, when he gets a new follower notification and a direct message, pretty much in the span of a second:

@tAYYYYYchi: OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE REAL

@tAYYYYYchi: I THOUGHT YOU WERE A DREAM

@tAYYYYYchi: YOU’RE TOO WEIRD TO BE REAL

@yamaNO: says the guy whose Big Gay Crisis gave him a literal out of body experience

@tAYYYYYchi: First of all I told you I’m still into girls so I don’t know what it is but it’s definitely not gay. Second, shut up, dumb face. Third: what are you doing?

@yamaNO: wondering if some1 invented time travel so I can go back & not help u

@tAYYYYYchi: LIES AND SLANDER.

@tAYYYYYchi: Everyone loves me.

@tAYYYYYchi: Clearly, you’re A Big Liar Who Lies.

Well, there’s no denying the guy—Taichi, his bio says when Yamato follows him back—is entirely right about that.

Yamato really , really doesn’t mind.