#and still... i might just trade taking those bad experiences if i could get to experience more of the good

[anyu-blue]

*Thinks about dream 'me'*

...

Gods I wish I had what she has...

[ahdriking]

Mansuang Review:

Mansuang was amazing. I was particularly impressed by Apo's performance as Khem, which was emotional and complex and deeply moving. His story was riveting to me. I personally love characters with trauma in their backgrounds, who have been beaten down by the world into a certain way of thinking and behaving, and Apo captured that experience gracefully and expertly. There is palpable pain in his performance of the darkest moments. I will say that they could have expanded upon his character development a lot more. It would have been nice to have a bit more emotional nuance in his journey towards self-love and acceptance, but I definitely didn't feel unsatisfied by where his narrative ended up. The movie was already juggling so much they clearly just didn't have the time to dedicate to expanding upon the nitty gritty aspects of his healing.

I will say that I am honestly kinda surprised this didn't have any romance in it at all, because there is such a good foundation for it that it feels like they wasted? Like, Khem feeling that no one cares about him except for his body could have been the gateway to Chatra demonstrating care and affection for him outside of sex, proving that he's capable of being loved for who he is. That jumps out at me. That might have been an opportunity for them also to have expanded on Chatra's character, and given him more presence and personality. Khem is a protector, that's clear in the way he treats Wan, but he so often has to sacrifice himself in that role that it would have been devastatingly effective if Chatra had had an opportunity to take care of him in some way instead.

I loved the *bad touch* backstory, for whumping reasons, but it did leave me a little confused. Why did Khem have to have sex with those people? Was it because he's ambitious enough that he'll sell himself to advance his position? Was it because someone was forcing him to, like a boss or person in power? Was it because he felt he had no choice, or was protecting Wan from something? I just wish we could have gotten to know him better, because we get to see the impact of the trauma but we don't really get to understand it, and that leaves me wondering. It felt like, during the dance scene where Khem goes off script, that he did that as an attempt at seduction, because seduction is what he knows and what he expects. He's used to trading in on his beauty and sex appeal to get what he wants. That suggests so many characteristics to me that just... don't quite exist in the rest of the story. And there's no real conclusion to it other than Khem, at the end of the story, choosing to be a dancer because he's at peace with his place in society. Again, lots and lots of opportunities were built up that just didn't quite manage to hit a home run.

Mile did a fucking fantastic job with what he was given, but I was a little disappointed with his role in the story. I felt like the relationship between him and Khem was half-done and underdeveloped, but it had so much potential! He put in an absolutely solid performance, and knocked the emotional scenes out of the park, but I couldn't help but feel like he wasn't given the chance to really shine.

Tong killed it. Killed it fucking dead. That man has the screen presence of a King, which surprised the fuck out of me cos I thought he was a character actor based on his performance in KinnPorsche. But no, this guy has range. I was very impressed.

Bas did a great job playing a racist sad boy. RIP Wan.

In conclusion: a flawed movie, but still so enjoyable and so, so worth watching. I cannot fucking wait for Shine, I hope that it delivers in some of the areas Mansuang wasn't able to.

[starrypawz]

hugging and gently holding the other’s head for whoever strikes your fancy?

AO3 Hug Prompts

Another very old prompt out of the way Lucas and Jonny are being soft must be a day with a Y in it @the-passenger-if

He’s cute when he’s asleep. 

And Jonny would probably argue with him but he’s also cute when he’s awake. 

Lucas finds himself again lost in taking in all the details of Jonny’s face. He sighs softly and dares to gently brush a lock of Jonny’s brown hair away from his forehead, and Jonny doesn’t stir.

He doesn’t want to move, not yet.

And it’s not as if he could right now anyway. 

Jonny’s long limbs are wrapped pretty tightly around him. And Lucas does feel a bit like a fly cocooned by a spider at this moment. But he’s content to submit himself to this fate and he won’t be going, “Help me, help me,” anytime soon. And maybe if he was a bit more awake he’d be able to turn the concept of being caught by a spider into something more romantic. 

He gently runs his fingers through Jonny’s hair as he sleeps. He shifts slightly and makes a soft, muffled sound that Lucas can’t deny is downright adorable and doesn’t do anything to dampen the so sweet it’s almost sickly rush of affection that’s going through him.

He may only be able to feel a fraction of what he could feel if he transcended this form, this casket is so restrictive still even if he’s probably as powerful as he’s ever been and this is not enough, never enough. But also what he feels now fills every part of his body, this mere casket is so much it’s overwhelming. There’s just something about how deep this ability to feel goes that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

(Maybe that’s part of why he wants to stay on this tiny speck in the universe so much, yeah he might not be able to experience )

He’s not quite sure how long he lies there as he doesn’t so much bathe in this sheer joy as willingly drown in it before Jonny starts to stir. 

Jonny gives another muffled sound, this one is not quite as soft, it’s some sort of groan. But honestly even that to Lucas is downright adorable. 

“Mornin’” Lucas drawls. 

Jonny mumbles something back that sounds like “Morning,” as he looks at Lucas slightly bleary eyed and that does nothing to help dampen that sweet, almost sickly rush of affection. 

And then he feels Jonny tense, as he looks away for a moment “I-”

Lucas reaches out and gently rubs his back and that seems to work as Jonny relaxes again.

“Jonny?”

He sighs, his voice low and thick with sleep “This… feels weird,” “Weird?” Lucas gently tucks a lock of hair behind Jonny’s ear. 

Jonny sighs, “I… I mean not in a bad way, it’s nice just… weird,” 

“Me holding you?”

“Yeah… You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” Lucas grins softly, “Only fair right? You are my boyfriend,” 

“Boyfriend,” Jonny sighs, but it’s a soft wistful thing, “That’s also going to take a while to get used to,” He gives one of those signature snorts. And honestly that combined with a barely there smirk doesn’t really do anything to provide any counter to Lucas’ allegations of ‘You’re actually fucking adorable’.  “Apparently all that weird shit about you being an alien-”

“Hey,” Lucas playfully sighs as they playfully swat Jonny on the nose, “We went through this, I’m not an alien, I’m a cosmic horror thank you very much,” He shakes his head, “And you call yourself a horror aficionado, shocking,” 

Jonny chuckles, not the snort, an actual chuckle and oh that further stokes this sensation that’s turned into euphoria by this point “It’s just…. funny how all that weird shit is easier to accept than the fact I came out of all that with a boyfriend,” 

Lucas presses a kiss to Jonny’s forehead as he gently places a hand around the back of his head and Jonny sighs. “I don’t want to get out of bed yet,”

“Good,” Lucas grins. 

[thirst2]

It's been said, before, and I think anyone remotely familiar with open-source has experienced or heard it but I'm still always taken aback by how much technological infrastructure was built to be general-purpose and malleable by the common user and how much corporations obfuscated and erased this.

Even in the tagging system for .mp3 files – ID3, an open standard –, I'm finding all kinds of functionality they accounted for that makes a lot of sense for a music file to specify (like lyrics synch.ed to timestamps and being able to specify events in the song like the outro or intro or the refrain or an interlude).

And I was just completely unaware of them because no music player on Windows ever offered them (alright; I mostly used iTunes, at the time, but the point stands).

iTunes saves any ratings you apply to songs in its own database; I never used the system in part because I've never found a need but, primarily, because I didn't want to invest a bunch of time and effort into something I'd lose the second I switched music players.

Oh; but did you know ID3 (v2) has a rating tag? One that iTunes could have used and then I'd take my ratings wherever I take my files with me?

Not only that but rating for a song are marked by an E-mail of the person rating; I expect it was largely to provide a unique identifier of some sort (and very 90s/00s to assume an E-mail is one's primary form of unique ID) but that means that songs can be rated by multiple people.

When your friends give you a copy of their favorite songs on a USB drive, those songs would've had their ratings.

Like a lot of tech. (especially early) architecture, this part fails to account for the presence of bad actors and spam but it also means you could reach out to those who rated the song, before you; their E-mail's right there.

Back when we traded AOL handles and the notion of communicating with those you knew but weren't nearby was exciting and new, we could have reached out to the friend of a friend of a friend at school who'd rated the song before handing it off until it reached us.

Even – now –, accounting for not wanting to attach your E-mail to a file that you'd, then, have to worry about getting into hands which might abuse that personal info. about you, being able for multiple people to tag a song is cool.

If I setup a Raspberry Pi at home and setup the Music Player Daemon on it for Jude and I to both put our songs on to listen to, etc., we could both tag the songs with our ratings and see what the other thought of the music we were sharing.

Like…this is some cool functionality ideas; this is some nice architecture. You just need the players to implement the functionality.

But they didn't; iTunes setup their own rating system (whether to tie people to their music player or not, I have no idea) and I never bothered to use what could be a sort of communal feature.

When I get excited about tech., these are the things that initially drew me to it – the ability to not only make my life, as a spoonie, easier but the ability to make all kinds of stuff we do everyday easier and with more people and to connect us all even more.

From the ability to making things more accessible without having to rely on others as much for it to…I dunno; the possibilities are endless.

Instead, the sheer joy so many of my generation had at creating their personal web pages by playing around with HTML and CSS became harder to construct because these businesses didn't care to make these experiences accessible because they didn't make them money.

I will never not be angry about that.

In any case, I'm at the point where anything further I might say is something I've already said before here on the subject; but I'm going to have these other tags be more accessible in my player. There's some really neat functionality in there that someone might want to utilize if presented in a more user-friendly manner (the original job of the music player implementations, to begin with…).

[italianexotiicbeauty]

[ read more because THE FUCKING AUDACITY OF THIS BULLSHIT. ]

So, let's talk about AGGRAVATION. 🤬🤬🤬🤬

Mom decided to wait until this morning as my sister is getting ready for work to BRING UP that Mark told her on the phone that THEY'VE DECIDED TO GO IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION..The reason they're asking for the title to the car is so they can trade it in, which is legitimate. Sadly with a broken transmission they won't get very much but fine, it also will take twenty days to get a replacement for it because mom has no idea where the original is.

Here comes the SHADIEST SHIT EVER.

“We've decided to go in a different direction and in order to get the car, you need to get your cellphone back.” You mean the one she willingly handed over when she got caught being scammed out of $300 because she was lonely and needed someone to talk to who was MOST DEFINITELY posing as an actor that would not EVER ask for money? Something we told her she couldn't tell ANYONE about because of how they'd respond? Why on earth does anyone THINK this is a “bargaining chip”, why? And Mark, John does NOT “pay all the bills” — he just signs/fills out the rent checks that YOUR FATHER WILLINGLY DECIDED TO PAY. We use the SSI she gets ONCE A MONTH to pay the bills. Do you actually know that? No, ya fuggin’ don't. There's a LOT of shizz they DON'T KNOW because past experience says TELLING THEM WOULD BE A BAD IDEA. ( and why bring up the fact that she has blocked lisa and then say “I don't want to get in the middle of it”? )

Kelly was absolutely right to not trust Mark. He asked for insurance info and mom's license photos, didn't say a damn word at all about what he told mom over the phone. Again, the trade in part is legitimate because it shaves off money from the buying price but the rest of it? Nope, I'm sorry — in what universe is that ever okay? Because now she has to go without seeing any of them, like ever — and I have to HOPE that this CTRides thing pulls through or she might need to consider trying to get part time work down the street at DG or Dunkin. ( because her staying home with barely enough to keep her mind occupied isn't good, the combination of adhd with depression & anxiety is bad news bears — if you know, you know. ) And yes, if I had work experience or a college degree or references — I'd apply  for work but if you don't know this? Mom gets stress brain fog ( or from her cluster headaches not going away immediately ) — so I have to stay home and look after her. 

Mom also talked about contacting her employer and asking them to find her cases in town, because this cannot go on. Not like this it cannot, and I am ALREADY actively concerned about what the outcome of November will be like. Because of what *that one* wants to eliminate what my family relies on — that so many rely on. 

I know this post is ALL over the place, but I am so ANGRY right now. Mom even just said that she's not even sure Mark would believe her that it'd take 20 days to get a replacement car title ( 20 days and $25 dollars, and even getting an appointment might not guarantee her walking out with it — don't actually know but it's a thought. ) like if that's what the legitimate DMV SITE even told Kelly, the fugg? 

… … … … … for reference, we did find mom a phone she could afford to have. A flip phone, yes they still make those and we'd pick a plan with no internet access / data use for her safety. But WHY does that need to be a "bargaining chip", and who the H E L L thinks this kind of tactics is okay?!

Due to my overall anger at this situation that was going a LITTLE TOO GOOD … phone's on DND mode. I … this post fully expresses everything I'm feeling and what we've learned, thank you for just listening.

Sincerely hope no one else has "family" who treats them ( my mother is the eldest sibling, and while she has health issues - that doesn't give anyone the right to treat her this way or even think it would be okay ) like this.

[balkanradfem]

The beans post

I learned some new things about gardening due to neglecting it for 3 months; most of it is related to beans. I noticed that people were hasty to harvest their dry beans as soon as it started raining; I supposed it was bad for dry beans to be in a lot of rain, they might rot or something. I got to harvest mine way late, so I found out; what actually happens when you leave your dry beans outside after summer, and it rains a whole lot, and then a whole lot more?

The answer: They sprout. And I don't mean they fall down to the ground and start growing new plants, they sprout even while they're still hanging off of the plant! Just look at these:

Still in their pod and sprouting!

This was a lot of fun to find out; I'm not upset by this, as it's not the majority that sprouted, and I can simply eat them anyway, sprouted food is healthy! Here's all of those who sprouted, ready to be cooked:

And they tasted only slightly different than the other dry beans, they were great to eat!

The rest of my beans have happily cross-pollinated, now they're all possible sizes and colors and I could not be happier about that. Looking at the colorful bean collection makes me feel like my life is happy, enriched, filled with wonder and variety. Look at these:

Some of the beans I was picking up were in the big, still-green pods; that meant they're unripe, but we weren't getting any sun, and they wouldn't get to ripen more, so I harvested them anyway. Upon opening them at home later, I was greeted with the most gorgeous beans I've ever seen in my life. I've been entranced. Look at this:

If I told you these were magic beans and tried to trade them to you in a small village's farmer's market for something valuable, would you not take my word for it? They're the colors of the universe, light blue and purple and some even have slight brushes of color on them like they're painted. I've been staring at these lovingly for 2 days, and then I had to cook them, because they're unripe and can't really be stored as long as the dry beans can. I made them into a white soup, together with potatoes and chive infusion. They don't completely lose their color in a soup either! They just get a bit more grey:

These are only this pretty because I got to see them in the middle of ripening, they would have turned fully dark-blue or dark-purple if completely ripe and dry. I have a few seeds for these left, so I'm going to try and get them again, the experience of gorgeous beans is now going to be expected in my every gardening year!

[mdhwrites]

Omg is crisis girlfriends inspired by Sayori and Yuri????????:D

Looks at the cover. Looks at Sayori and Yuri. Looks at the KNIFE. You know, I see it but it was ENTIRELY on accident. XD

The inspiration for Crises Girlfriends is actually something I've been very honest about and have talked about before. In fact, it's so blunt that the fanfic version of it is still up for anyone to read because I wasn't about to take down a work that had helped some people understand therapy better and potentially seek it out themselves just to potentially help my sales numbers. Hell, I actually have the majority of it also on Wattpad but my brain kind of broke about posting things eventually. I promise I plan to get the rest of it there too.

To say it was inspired by The Owl House would be incredibly disingenuous though. Not only do I think TOH actually handles topics like these not super great, honestly just about as good as most fantasy works, but also because that's not what motivated me to write it. It's one of my most personal works for a reason after all since arguably it helped keep me from drowning for a while by giving a place for the water to go. Warning for some darkness related to the themes of Crises Girlfriends, mostly to do with depression, suicidal thoughts and crises in general. Also, you know, spoilers for potentially my worst performing book.

So almost two years ago when I first started the project, I was in a really bad place. There's a moment in the story where Anisa puts a hand on the side of her head that then shifts to pretending to having a finger gun against her temple. It's one of the moments in the story that I assumed people might call out as over the top. After all, it's not like the thoughts have that much control and it's silly imagery anyways!

But it's where I was at. The thoughts were that prevalent that they were always trying to find ways to creep from the subconscious to the conscious. It was awful and it wasn't helping the feeling that I'd lost the magic that had been flowing through me the year prior as I'd managed a novella and some small bits of writing here and there but not the hundreds of thousands of words a month I had been managing. I was making more and more drastic trade offs with my mind to keep going and this was one more. The last one that has actually worked.

I was scared and asked myself if I needed to go to a Crises Center again. I'd been to one seven years prior back in Alaska and this wasn't the first time I'd considered going back. Then a thought popped into my head. Take the couple who I still loved and send them into the center. I'd played with both of them having depression and the like before to great effect and this would be someway to get these feelings and thoughts out of my head and onto the page.

There were two mandates from go from my brain though: The first was that Luz, Anisa in the original version, had to be hurt when she smiled. It was another one of those things I thought people would call BS on because of it being over the top but was once again true to my reality. I use comedy as a defense. My whole family does. This song may as well be a theme for the Hudsons.

And so when I know my depression is truly out of control, when I'm in a state for the void to take over entirely, is when I'll crack a joke or something will make me smile and suddenly it will feel like a small black hole was made within me. It sucks the life out of me as it tries to destroy my mind and punishes me for even the concept of joy or happiness because it cannot even fathom those right now. It can only punish them.

The second was that the relationship couldn't be the answer to the problems. The support they gave each other could help them be more honest, could help them be more receptive to the care they needed, but the answers they got had to come from therapy. Had to come from my six years of experience with getting help. That's part of why literal lessons I have learned in therapy like mental fallacies are in there. It's why the story starts with THE depression questionnaire that so many who have been in therapy long enough will know all too well.

But otherwise, I just opened up a new document and began, using Luz and Amity as archtypes and inspiration but grounding it all in the years of misery I've been through. I will say though that one of their traits when it comes to depression actually only became true for me while writing it because I'm used to a more uncontrollable appetite but that Summer would see me struggling to eat, something that hadn't happened to me before. Usually failing to eat meant a BAD TIME mentally for me but there's reasons why that changed that Summer.

It is a love story. It's also a story about depression. It's my final, fond farewell to an year of writing these two characters who lit a fire in me and changed my genre focus. It's a lot of things and it's also the work I feel can do the most good because in the comments for it, I saw proof of that good. That people do need works like these and that my experiences could cross gender and racial boundaries because they're simply honest and earnest.

It is a work I would love you to check out, even if I could literally explain to you why so few have.

And just as a final part of this reminiscing: Since Crises Girlfriends finished, I have tapped at a couple projects. A couple chapters here and there on a half a dozen things and a few one offs. I haven't completed anything since though and I have tried to figure out why I'm so much more fragile about it all. Instead, I've let my analytical mind let me continue to do anything and I would like to thank all of you who follow me now, the vast majority of who follow me due to all the lessons I've tried to teach and ramblings I've spouted out, for indulging me.

Thank you, have a wonderful day and see you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[sodiumlamp]

Picard

This one started out promising but went downhill fast. They should have called this one "The Icarus Factor II: So Very Tired".

I'll try to keep it short this time. Geordi's still trying to figure out how to get Data separated from Lore, since they're now both stuck in the same body. Euthaizing Data (again) might be an option here, but they need his help to stop the attack on Frontier Day. That's a good way to explain why they don't just dump Data's new body in the sun. He's clearly suffering, but there's too much at stake.

Beverly suspects there might be a way to track or even kill this new-and-improved breed of Changeling Revanchists, but she's worried about the moral implications of using a species' own biology against them. Meanwhile Jack is loaded with survivors guilt, and wants to trade himself to Vadic in exchange for Riker. Also Troi, I would imagine, since Vadic has her too, but Jack doesn't know that. Picard won't allow this, but it does give him an idea to set a trap.

So the Shrike finally tracks down Titan and it looks like it just got disabled in a battle with a "Vulcan warship", also disabled. Was there actually a battle or did they stage the whole thing? Anyway, Vadic is desperate because she can't get any information out of Riker and Troi, so she leads a boarding party and Jack lures them into a bunch of force fields. Hooray!

And then things start to go bad. Somehow Lore takes over all of the ship's systems. I'm not sure what the rest of the good guys' plan was supposed to be, but Lore causes it all to backfire. Jack and Sydney La Forge are trapped with a pair of Changelings, and Jack has to do some sort of telepathic thing to guide her body into defeating one of the Changelings the same way he did.

Meanwhile, Picard and Beverly interrogate Vadic, who reveals her dark origins. She and her comrades were Changeling prisoners held captive during the Dominion War. They were experimented upon by a Federation scientist at the Daystrom Institute, and apparently the goal of the experiments was to make them even better at infiltration? Was the plan to use them as Federation agents? How was that ever going to work? Anyway, Vadic escaped, and she could pass her enhanced powers to other like-minded Changelings. So I guess she was always part of the Changeling plot going on in this season, but why is she posing as a bounty hunter? If her comrades have so much influence in Starfleet, what do they need with the Shrike? Why did she kill those security guys who had captured Riker? She just re-captured him for the same cause.

Anyway, thanks to Lore's treachery, Vadic escapes and takes control of the Titan. Data reasserts control, so may he has a chance to turn the tide, but the episode ends before that can happen.

And that's the problem with this thing. It's a pretty good half-episode, but it's been padded to full-length. Vadic's origin story was compelling, Picard and Beverly's moral dilemma was compelling, Geordi's plea to Data was nice, but what I really wanted was for the good guys to get a win, and they decided to defer that for the next episode.

There's no good reason for this. A lot of time was spent on dramatic pauses and ominous posturing. When Vadic takes the bridge she gives a(nother) long, rambling speech. Then she stops talking, and this really grim, suspenseful music plays, and she.... sits down in the captain's chair. Is that supposed to matter? She already won, what difference does it make that she decided to sit?

The next episode will probably feature the big comeback I was hoping for, but that's the problem. I wanted a mid-story comeback, kind of like what we had when they escaped the nebula a few episodes ago. But now, if the good guys get out of this jam, it'll have to happen in Episode 8 of the season. So then they'll have to immediately move on to the part where they win the whole thing. It's not paced well, is what I'm saying.

Oh, wait, we never saw Worf in this one. In the previous episode he said he would bring back Riker, so maybe he snuck aboard the Shrike or something. Well, this might be worth it after all... but I doubt it.

[hekate1308]

And That Special Quiet On Christmas Morn, A Destiel Advent Calendar December 1

Masterpost

It was far from the first time Sam had asked Dean to accompany him to an auction. Came with him being a woodworker and knowing good furniture when he saw it. In truth, Dean would have preferred to gift him every single piece he needed for his office, but Sam was absolutely against that because “You need to make a profit, Dean” but since he was not ready to accept money from family, this was a compromise.

Plus, Sam hadn’t been able to say no to Dean making his desk, at least, and some of his clients and colleagues had actually asked for his number after seeing it, so…

Still, Sam wouldn’t be gainsaid when it came to certain topics, so here they were once more so he could get a new (well, old) cabinet.

Anyway, it also meant spending more time with his brother. And he was never going to say no to that.

“Say what you want” he couldn’t help but announce in the showroom, although he lowered his voice when he noticed several official-looking people around “but most of this is garbage.”

“I was thinking it might be, but that’s what I’ve got you for” Sam simply replied in the same tone.

They came across a desk where someone had decided to carve some… interesting decorations on the legs, and traded a glance. Sam struggled to keep decorum, being an ace lawyer and all, but Dean didn’t bother to hide his smile.

And that was when he happened to see the painting.

Now, normally when it came to these auctions or exhibitions or wherever Sam wanted to take him, he didn’t pay much attention to anything but the furniture. He knew why he was there, after all. But somehow, when he raised his head and noticed the painting, he was drawn to it.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the wall where it hung, staring at it.

Now that he was so close, all in all… it was nothing special. It was a painting of a man standing in a non-descript city. He had dark hair and blue eyes (very blue eyes – as his friend Crowley would have teased him, that was probably why Dean had noticed the piece of art in the first place) and the shine from the street lamp he stood under made it seem like he had a halo.

It was not a bad painting, as far as he could tell with his limited experience, but it probably wasn’t what one would have called a masterpiece either. Still, there was something about it…

“Dean?”

He turned his head to find Sam looking at him, clearly puzzled.

“I –“ he cleared his throat, having no idea how to explain, then gestured towards the wall. “Not bad, is it?”

Sam, who’d taken an art class in college (which Dean always held didn’t count for much because he had mostly done it to meet girls) turned his head and studied it. “I suppose not. Nothing to write home about, but…”

He shrugged. “I just thought it looked neat, is all.”

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied. “Come on; the auction is about to begin.”

---

The auction went as these things always did. There were the professionals, hoping to stock up their warehouses or stores; those pretentious ones who believed they knew what they were doing and might find a bargain; and normal people like Sam and Dean who were just looking for something they needed.

Sam got the cabinet they had been eying – naturally, he had to be persistent with his job – and sat back, clearly happy enough. Now they just had to wait out the rest of the auction.

Yet somehow, Dean grew more and more nervous the more time passed.

He didn’t know why until the painting – truly the painting, for he would late realize that for him, there really had only been one there, he wouldn’t have been able to describe any other that he had seen – was carried onto the stage.

He looked at it again. Well, he hoped whoever bought it would find a nice place to hang it up instead of locking it away in a safe, as some of those millionaires one heard about were wont to do…

He raised his hand without meaning to. Or rather, his hand went up when the auctioneer called out, clearly to Sam’s surprise.

He very resolutely did not look at his brother as he bid against a little old lady who seemed determined.

But suddenly Dean realized he was as well – more than that – he had to have the painting. It was meant for him.

In the end, he managed to bid 200 dollars – luckily he’d had a few big orders lately – and won.

He let his hand sink, still not catching Sam’s eyes.

What had just happened?

[peggy-sue-reads-a-book]

Paper Cranes

TW: homophobia, bullying, church abuse, swearing, assault, ED, SH, compulsive exercising, Republicans, purity culture, evangelical crap, but most of all middle school. If I’ve failed to include anything, just let me know. Fr I wrote it for me and posted it for those who might find my experience affirming. I’m all good if you need to scroll right on past a trauma post.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The first time I ever watched homophobic bullying was in my pastor’s office. All the teens were waiting around a table for our youth pastor. There was one gay boy, a close friend of mine in a relatively small group. From the first week his family joined our church, an older girl in youth group announced to the rest of us that she couldn’t stand him because “he’s too happy and sings too much.” It was true. The new boy was the most cheerful, outgoing person I’d ever met. And he loves to sing.

The same girl gave a similar PSA behind my back when I was new. “We shouldn’t play with her because she’s weird and wears dress up clothes.” I was six. And it was true, I did wear a princess costume every day. Eventually I traded in my tutus for some looks that better reflected internalized misogyny and everyone figured out I’m funny as all shit and can get along with most anyone. I graduated from the bottom of the food chain.

So I shrugged off her hot take on my new friend. I don’t think she liked that her plans to cancel the new guy flopped. Because as we were waiting around that table she jumped up and grabbed his earlobe between her finger nails. She was super proud of her nails. They were long and scraggly like a cat and she was into filing them in public in case anyone felt too safe.

She dug her nails in on either side and no one said anything. You don’t stand up for a boy to a girl. I can’t remember if he tried to swat her off or just took it. It was only a minute but it was a damn long one. Blood started to bead around her nails. Then the door opened and she sat back down. Sunday school started.

Nothing I believed, no books, no paper, no concept of abomination could override what I’d just seen, the revulsion deep in my gut. It was more than rage. More than disgust. I still have no word for it. I was too young and the feelings that well up are still those of a thirteen year old.

It doesn’t matter what you call it. Anger like that is like walking around dead and suddenly finding your pulse because it’s roaring in your ears like a jackhammer.

I prayed to be like everyone else. To care about the same social issues in the same way. The only way I could make sense of my loneliness was that I was cursed in some way. If God loved me, he would make me content with the same values as my peers. But I had just seen someone harm someone else and not a single one of these fine, upstanding kids I’m supposed to make friends with say a damn thing.

A few years later, there was some kinda touchy-feeling Jesus shindig where everyone got real sugared up at night and had a big sing along with some college kids who were supposedly qualified to talk about the deep shit with us. If I mentioned their university you’d recognize it. Hint: assault cover ups

One guy, nineteen or so, must have gotten particularly inspired in the spirit because he starts preaching off-the-cuff about the sins of anorexia, binging, purging, and cutting. I inched backward. I tried hiding behind a football player; I was about half his width after all.

Peggy, what’s up with the bandaids?

I guess I tripped over a wall.

Hey I have a joke. How many Peggies can you fit in the shower? No one knows because—-

— I keep slipping down the drain. Heard that one.

Eat a fucking sandwich, you skinny cunt

The best part of the speech is it was addressed to us about the bad, vague other kids who barfed and otherwise screwed around. Those poor fuck-ups, insulting God’s creation by choosing to defile their bodies.

I couldn’t wait to get home and go for it, but felt a whole lot more like a compulsion than a choice.

I’ve heard this sermon twice, by the way. The second time, the pastor held up a paper crane and asked us to admire its delicacy and the skill it took to make it before shredding it up. Guess he worked hard on that metaphor.

That was me. A paper crane. Pure white, crafted precisely, folded up small. You could pinch my wings between your fingernails and pull them off. I wouldn’t bleed and you could vacuum me up. That was my power. The control in the fine lines and tight folds.

Anyway here I am squirming on my butt and waiting for my chance to burn off my two bites of pizza and Oreos. I’m pretty sure I’d made everyone laugh by scooting the cookies into my mouth from my forehead with no hands. See, everyone, I eat. Yeah, I was gonna have to get in some crunches tonight.

I wondered if I could chug enough lemon water to get diarrhea without being noticed, when somehow, we were looking at each other. The boy’s eyes were bright blue. Ice blue, like in cheesy books. Gay.

Skinny.

Leviticus. The apostle Paul.

Cutter.

It’s a powerful feeling, that two seconds of eye-contact that lets you know you aren’t crazy. That you aren’t the only one in the room who is angry. It is taking a hand to find it as wounded as yours.

Whatever is divine in this world, whatever is true and special and outside of ourselves, it is in the rage you can’t shake. If a voice is telling you that no one deserves to be treated this way, that you inherently do not deserve this, and you say shut up and shut up and shut up and it won’t

Shut up, shut up,

and your only answer is this is bullshit. You should get up and leave

Shut up

I said you are free to walk out,

I can’t,

well then I say you can. I say Truth never left you and you’re not dead.

disclaimer: I did not write this to shit on Christians (I am a Christian) or any tradition in general but the corruption that exists in specific systems

other disclaimer: the other kids in this story were literally also just kids, even the mean ones. I’m pretty sure all of them have grown into sensible adults I’d hang out with. I did not write this to shit on them either.

[night-garden-fic]

Chapter Two: The Pressed Leaf of the Past

(Read on AO3)

"But then again, I was always an awful soldier, wasn't I?"

Chapter Two: The Pressed Leaf of the Past

     Russell never really understood why having read every book in the Library should be seen as something so remarkable.

     After all, he was a lifelong avid reader, and lived in the building besides. To him, having read everything was a simple inevitability.  It was a large number of books, true.  But the collection wasn't limitless, and his appetite for words was—or at least felt, to him—approximately so.  All things considered, it didn't take him very long to burn through the entire backlog.

     Indeed, "burning through" was an apt description for his reading habits in those lonely early days in Kardia.

     Russell had arrived in town a stranger and a fugitive; war-battered and disgraced, with little respite for his mind outside the comforting familiarity of ink on paper.  Dazed and half-shattered, he found himself falling into the pages harder than ever before, the agonized weeks and months passing by in a hectic, ink-scribbled blur.

     It wasn't until he was finally somewhat ready to integrate into village life that Russell realized he really had read everything there was to read, sometimes twice over.  And, knowing no other way to live, he kept up the habit even as his mind began to settle; reading every book that came his way, and returning to his old favorites for the third, forth, or fifth time over.  It remained a precious escape from past and self when he found he still needed one, and served as the ultimate fulfillment of a dear old dream.

     And of course, on a more practical level, it also helped him keep up with the slow, steady trickle of new material.  Having at least a broad familiarity with all the books and their contents, Russell figured, was an essential part of the job.  And, given his passing interest in nearly everything, it was probably the part of the job that he relished most of all.

     But all people have their preferences, and he was no exception.

     If one knew Russell well enough, it was probably less surprising to learn that he had read every book in the Library than it was to find out that there were some—indeed, many—that he hadn't particularly enjoyed.  It was something of a source of guilt for him, but it was nonetheless true.

     The most obvious examples were technical manuals concerning advanced, unfamiliar trades, which he generally found inscrutable, and often merely skimmed.

     Then there were the romantic stories written for a juvenile—or perhaps excessively timid—audience; the kind that always conveniently ended before anyone got up to anything interesting, leaving Russell feeling cranky and unsatisfied as he wondered, for the hundredth time, if he should just start skipping these.  Each one seemed identical to all the others, and no one but Tori ever seemed all that interested in checking them out.

     But, if given a choice, Russell knew he would rather read a thousand carpentry texts and a million treacly chaste romances than a single tome of military history.

     In his youth, he'd found it as dry and esoteric as the most complex of those vexing manuals, and could never quite create a picture in his mind of what was supposed to be happening.  Surely, there was some coherent story to be found, behind all those far-away dates and names and landmarks.  But, try as he might, he could never get it to emerge.

     And, if it was bad then, it had somehow become even worse.

     Back in those tumultuous early days of indiscriminately reading everything within arm's reach, Russell assumed having a bit of personal experience would help, but it never seemed to properly apply, leaving him more confused than ever.  Though he now understood a bit of the jargon, he still found that these texts seemed to talk right past him; telling a story in which, even now, he seemed to have no real part.

     It gave him the strange sensation of being flattened to nothing in those pages.  Like a dry autumn leaf, carefully pressed and promptly forgotten, the blood-vibrant colors of his life slowly fading away

     Still, Russell had read every book in the Library.  And, inevitability or no, it had become something of a point of pride.

     Just get through it, and you can read that nice big natural history encyclopedia you've been staring at.

     A new shipment had arrived the previous week.  And—confusing, unsettling, or otherwise—Russell couldn't just not read one of them.  So, when he unearthed yet another ponderous volume on Norad's seemingly endless border conflicts, he figured he would just go ahead and read that one first, to get it over and done with.

     Unfortunately, this was proving surprisingly difficult, mostly owing to the tome's recent publication.

     For one thing, the spine was stiff, and Russell had to make an active effort just to keep it open in front of him.  Of course, this got easier upon reaching the halfway point, but by then he was seeing descriptions of locations and practices that he actually recognized, which made his mind wander uncontrollably.

     Why can't I put it all together?

     (I remember everything.)

     Just yesterday, he'd read the description of a certain ambush technique, and lost the better part of an hour staring into space, running through the procedure in his head; surviving, dying, surviving again, and only grudgingly allowing himself to move on once his mind finally stopped letting him live.

     If you can't save yourself, have the sense to let it end.

     There were several such incidents, and they all made Russell feel as though he'd never get through the damned thing.  But still, as in most areas of life, he supposed he was making a stilted kind of progress.  He only had a quarter of the book to go, and was back to having to pin it open; a welcome, immediate annoyance.

     Having reached the end of another laborious page, Russell carefully flicked to the next, preparing himself for another dense and thorny, but mostly uneventful bramble of words he'd have to hack through.

     Not five seconds later, he felt his hair standing on end with the realization that he'd found something else entirely.

     This can't be history.

     Russell's brain snapped in electric recognition; breath caught in lungs that still held a faint rattle, heart feeling like it could have beat its slick way out of his mouth.

     At first, it was just an infantry number and a span of dates, somehow as strangely meaningless as any of the others.  But the page also contained one of the volume's few illustrations.

     It only took about a second to realize what, exactly, he was looking at.

     (Tin cups. Mud puddles.)

     (My grave.)

     A scratchy woodcut reproduction of a photograph; one that he had never actually seen, though he could remember the day it was taken as though it were just last week.  The kind of day that your mind holds onto not because it was particularly important, but more so because no other day had yet bothered to dethrone it.

     Far right end of the second row from the bottom.  It won't be hard to find.  Just take a look.

     Russell's eyes tracked across the page.  And, sure enough, there he was, right where he'd left him: the vague image of his eighteen-year-old self.  He stood at the very edge of the group, spaced slightly too far from the young man at his side and looking almost tacked on as an afterthought.

     The expectation was that he would either feel either a deep crushing sorrow, or nothing at all.  But, to his surprise, Russell actually found it slightly funny.  The photograph had been a formal affair, with everyone standing at attention and holding the camera in a steely gaze.  Meanwhile, that distant teenage Russell was, to all appearances, simply trying his best.

     Gods, this poor kid.

     He wore a round pair of glasses back then, and the glare on the thick lenses must have been such that the artist decided not to bother with his eyes at all, instead rendering the frames opaque.  This gave him an unreadable, somewhat hollow look, which made him look even more out of place.  And, upon closer inspection, his posture was slightly hunched, shoulders just a tad bit lopsided.  That, he supposed, could have been the misery of his new life settling into his young, green bones.

     Poor, poor kid.

     (You wretched little killer.)

     But no, Russell remembered that day well.  He'd been assigned to help with digging a trench the day before, managed to tweak something in his back in the process, and simply couldn't handle standing up straight for as long as it took to get everyone in position and process the photograph.

     Even now, over a dozen years later, he could feel it—if only vaguely—as he slumped at his desk.  The weight of his tired spine worrying at that frayed cord, a reminder of everything else inside him that had been pulled to near-snapping over the years.

     Despite it all, he had to laugh.  It came out as an awkward, breathy bark, followed by a slight cough, but it was laughter all the same.  Of course, the Library was nearly silent, and Russell had spent the last two hours sitting all but motionless, face set in a light scowl, so this drew the attention of the entire room.

     Which, thankfully, was just Tori and Cecilia.  And Lynette, he supposed, but she was stood against the far wall with a book propped in one hand—as was her way—and quickly decided that this didn't concern her.

     (Doesn't it, though?)

     His daughter and assistant, however, were a bit more curious.  Tori looked up from the card catalog that she had been sorting through, nervously fiddling with the end of one long, yellow braid.

     "...S-something funny?"

     Russell laughed again, more quietly this time, and shook his head.

     "Not really, I guess...  Mostly just surprised.  I'm...  I'm in this book."

     Tori tilted her head quizzically, and Cecilia craned her neck over the desk to get a better look.  Russell beckoned Tori over, and moved the book aside so Ceclia could settle herself on his desk.  He carefully held the pages open with one hand while gesturing at the image with the other.

     "See the one on the end here?  That's me."

     Those two words, spoken aloud, turned to ash on Russell's tongue, drying his mouth and making his throat feel slightly constricted.  He swallowed painfully, and watched as they took him in; the bad posture, the bad glasses, the daydreamy, serious face.

     A face that, he began to realize, hadn't changed much in all these years.

     It was starkly recognizable, even in this miniscule, ink-lined state.  This was the face that still met him every day in the mirror; though by now it had grown into itself a bit, and there were a few faint lines coming in around the eyes, breaking up the general blankness.

     Surprisingly, Tori was the first to speak up.

     "You l-look smaller..."

     Russell shrugged.

     "Well, there's a lot of us in one picture, so I guess we all do.  But I wasn't quite done growing until I was twenty, so you're probably right."

     Cecilia placed her own small hand next to her father's, leaning in for a better look.

     "What were you all doing?"

     What, indeed?

     "We...  Well...  I had to fight in a war for a while.  It was before you were born.  I guess they wanted a picture of everyone, in case someone wrote a book like this someday."

     Russell supposed that was technically true enough, and hoped she wouldn't press much farther.  Suddenly, it occurred to him—with some mild shock—that this was the first time they'd ever discussed his past.  Somehow, it just hadn't come up.

     And who made sure of that, hmm?

     Cecilia studied the image for a moment more, then tilted her face towards him.

     "Were you scared?"

     Another hard, painful swallow.  Russell had to clear his throat before he could continue.

     "Sometimes I was.  It could get scary."

     Cecilia looked grave for a moment, then smiled.

     "You were brave."

     That had nothing to do with it.

     Russell forced a smile of his own.

     "I think I mostly felt tired...  I like being here with you a lot more."

     Somewhat awkwardly, with his one free arm, he pulled his daughter into a hug.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulder for a moment, then hoisted herself off the desk and scampered off to the remainder of her carefree afternoon.

     Sweet girl.  You're braver.

     (You don't even know.)

     "...Gods, those uniforms are like street clothes."

     Lynette seemed to be curious after all, and had joined Tori in hovering over the desk, regarding the image inquisitively with a single crimson eye.  Russell startled slightly when she spoke, gathering himself a bit before he could reply.

     "Yeah... They weren't great.  We had some other gear to layer on for active combat, but it probably wasn't much better."

     He didn't know why he felt the need to explain this to Lynette, of all people, because she certainly already knew.  Still, there was a slight disbelieving note in her voice.

     "...I frankly don't know how any of you are still alive."

     Well, for starters, a lot of us aren't.

     Russell readjusted himself in his seat.  His clothes were sitting funny across his chest, the friction causing faint pins and needles.  Still, he let out another small laugh.

     "I got lucky, I guess."

     That I did.

     By way of reply, his chest ached.

     Did you?  Really?

~*~

     Russell always found it funny how, even when you considered the obvious, the easiest way to tell that Cecilia and himself weren't blood relations would be to watch both of them try to go to sleep.

     Specifically, the way Cecilia never had to try.

     That night, as was their routine, he'd read her one of her favorite picture books; this time the one about an old tree in an even older forest, and how it gave life to all the birds and insects living in its leaves, wood, and branches, and the worms in the soil at the roots.  She kept herself awake just long enough for him to finish that familiar tale, then seemingly turned off her little body and mind like twin lamps as soon as he turned the last page.

     "Goodnight, Ceci."

     He kissed the crown of her head, then lay there in her small bed for a few moments, legs hanging awkwardly off the mattress, listening to her quiet breathing.  In the dim light of the room, he took in all the chaotic flotsam of his daughter's messy, miniature life.  The stones on the headboard, the feathers sticking out of an old jam jar on the nightstand, and the colorful crayon drawings that already papered the folding divider they'd installed in their shared room just a day before.

     Perhaps Cecilia's restfulness was contagious.  Maybe her body contained some naive wisdom that his tense, overgrown form could learn from.

     But, of course, there was no such luck.  Russell stumbled to bed, crawled under his own covers, and began the nightly waiting game.

    On the good nights, an hour or two of reading would be enough to lull him into a shallow but reasonably refreshing sleep.  A sleep that, by its very shallowness, would remain dreamless and blank.

     Somehow, as soon as he'd extinguished the lamp, Russell knew that this would not be a good night.

     I guess I should have figured.

     The previous night hadn't been very good, either.  And nor—at least when it came to sleep—had the night before that; lying awake and bruised in Lady Ann's soft bed, watching the falling snow through the window.  And neither, come to think of it, had the night before that.

     If he kept on looking back and back, Russell could follow this span of bad nights for weeks, spooling out beyond the horizon of recent memory.

     And now he had a new addition to the torrent of images that flooded his mind the instant he closed his eyes: the younger self, rendered rather carelessly in stark, black ink.

     It's not even the real picture.

     Russell wondered why the artist—who surely could have taken liberties if they'd wished—had bothered to include his crooked posture.  It was subtle enough to ignore, and surely, it would have been easier to just render everyone the same, as that had been the goal in the first place.  But no, there it was, the time he injured himself while clumsily shoveling mud in a trench, forever immortalized in print.

     Just as it was, he remembered again, in his own body.  The subtle ache in the tendon was bothering him, and he shifted again, trying to get comfortable.

     It's never going to be over, you know.

     It already is.  It's literally in a history book.  I need to sleep.

     Arguing with himself, Russell knew from experience, never got him anywhere good.  But what else did he have to do, lying there alone in the dark?

     You're okay.  It's just been a rough year.

     Russell blinked hard, and more pictures rose to the surface to replace that bespectacled boy, frozen in ink.

     Cecilia, lost in the volcanic depths of a cave, terrified and alone.  Himself, sitting in the dirt at the cave's mouth, mentally brutalizing himself for not being the one to go in and save her, for being such a poor caretaker that this even happened in the first place.

     For scooping her up off that battlefield, just to walk her straight into other dangers.

     No, she walked there herself.

     (She's too brave for her own good, is all.)

     Time had already ground a few sharp edges off the whole incident.  But, deep down, Russell still blamed himself.  Still woke from nightmares of a small girl's keening screams, of walking into pillars of fire.

     You've been keeping a better eye on her lately.  She'll be okay.

     Will I be, though?

     As usual, Russell couldn't give himself an honest answer.  Especially not from where he was right then, cold and alone in the dead of night.

     ...Not if you don't sleep.

     Then I guess I won't be.  Who the hell can sleep like this?

     Almost reflexively, He thought of Sabrina.

     The warmth of her body next to his own, and the silly conversations she would distract him with when he was too wound up to sleep.  Her hands, which never seemed to sense the contamination he could feel coming off himself in waves.

     And how almost surreal it seemed when she and Neumann reconciled that spring, seemingly out of the blue.

     Russell was happy for her, but had to admit it took the wind out of him.

     In truth, he wasn't even sure why.  They had only been exclusive for a few months, before which Sabrina and Lady Ann had been content to amicably pass him back and forth, with no hard feelings or jealousy that he could ascertain.  Hell, for all he knew, they were messing around with each other in addition to him.  But that was one of the many, many things that just seemed to never come up.

     No hard feelings or jealousy from me now, either.

     They remained close friends, as they had been since not long after Sabrina first arrived in Kardia.  And she seemed genuinely happy, which was all Russell could reasonably ask for.  But it had been an adjustment, and after the whole mess with Cecilia had taken so much out of him...

     (I almost lost my mind.)

     ...Well, his capacity to adjust was a bit compromised, to say the least.  Every empty bed seemed emptier, every lonely night seemed lonelier, and every unspoken fear threatened to physically corrode him from the inside.

     And so, when the tanks rolled in with the summer, was it any wonder that Russell felt fully prepared to face them head-on himself?

~*~

     It was an unseasonably hot, dusty-bright, uncanny afternoon, when the worst finally happened.

     For months, there had been an escalating whisper of siege and invasion that kept Russell steely-spined and frightened; painfully alert by day and restlessly wakeful by night, nerves crackling and ready for danger.  At first, it was only hearsay and rumor, which he couldn't fully believe.

     Told himself, again and again, that he wouldn't believe.

     But even so, whatever was left of the soldier within him still knew it was best to be prepared.

     Having spent so long trying to silence that malignant sliver of self for the good of the whole, the only thing Russell had ever been entirely unprepared for was the day when the paranoid whisper in the back of his mind finally spoke the truth.

     There were tanks lining up on the edge of town.

     And, when he began to hear the distant, familiar grind of heavy treads on gravel, he knew exactly what he had to do.

     With that brave young warrior-farmer down in the thick of things, there was no one left but Russell to defend the heart of the village.  It was all on him, and he was more ready to die for the cause than he had ever been in his soldiering days.  This wasn't some abstract fight for honor and country.  This was for his home, his neighbors, his daughter's future.

     What was his life, really, in the face of all that?

     Once he had made up his mind, Russell moved quickly.  He raided Leo's empty shop, borrowing a dull old sword, an ill-fitting iron chestplate, and a dented helmet with a creaky face guard.  Having outfitted himself as best he could in other people's damaged gear, he ran down to Raguna's field and grabbed as many fist-sized stones as he could carry.

     He knew well that it wasn't enough, but it was what he had.  There was nothing left but to station himself under the first arch of the main road, and wait.

     Sabrina tried to reason with him, tried to get him to abandon his self-appointed post and shelter in the sturdy stone cellar of the de Sainte-Coquille manor with her and all the others.  She reminded him of Cecilia, and Edward, and herself, and all he had to live for.  Cool and numb, as though he had just broken through the splintered surface of a frozen lake, Russell could only explain that he was thinking of Cecilia.

     "What else do I have to fight for?"

     Realizing that reason was getting her nowhere, Sabrina grabbed Russell by the wrist and started pulling; screaming at him that he was insane, that he would die, that there was nothing to prove here.  She was surprisingly strong for her size, and definitely the more athletic of the two, but Russell had received a good deal of formal training in how to plant his feet and hold his ground.  He wouldn't budge, and eventually Neumann took Sabrina's hand, shouting many of the same words that she had just been shouting at Russell.

     And then they were gone; dragging a sobbing Cecilia with them, leaving Russell alone to meet thirty tons of steel with a tarnished sword and a pile of stones.

     For a moment, he thought Camus might assist him.  The sturdy young farmer ran down the lane with his builder's hammer in hand, clearly filled with adrenaline and ready to see some action.  Russell couldn't understand his mindset, but was grateful to have some help.

     That is, until Edward realized what was going on and burst out of the Clinic in a fury.

     "What the hell are you doing!?"

     "I'm not just gonna let them destroy us!"

     "You can't fight a tank with a hammer, Camus!  You need to go and shelter with the others!"

     "You're staying behind!"

     "There's a difference!  I have to stay at the Clinic in case someone gets hurt!  You don't have to fight some machine that can crush you in an instant!"

     "Russell's gonna fight!"

     "Russell is crazy!"

     Not yet crazy enough to begin insisting that he wasn't, Russell simply watched their argument with half-hearted interest.

     And then Edward—a strong man in his own right—grabbed his strapping son by the collar and began dragging him towards the manor.  For a moment, he looked at Russell as though he wanted to grab and drag him, too.  But he must have thought better of it, for he quickly turned and left, with a protesting Camus in tow.

     Edward, after all, only had one free hand.  Russell was armed, driven, and—yes, perhaps—crazy.

     One would have better luck fighting a tank with a hammer.

     Or with some stones and a rusty sword.

     Alone.

     Alone, boiling under the unforgiving summer sun, the borrowed armor hanging loose and crooked around his frame and digging heavily into his shoulders, Russell spent the better part of a day standing at attention in that first archway.  With everyone else in hiding, Kardia was deathly still, and he found he could hear nothing but the far-away rumble of tanks and the ringing clatter of his own thoughts.

     Mostly, he thought of Cecilia, and wished he had thought to bring a pen and paper, to write her a proper goodbye before he was ground to nothing where he stood.  He wondered how it would feel to be broken under those heavy treads, almost grateful that the fate he'd run from had finally found him.

     It was a chance to get it right.

     Russell wouldn't run.  Not this time.

     He would stand tall.  He would do his best.

     And yes, he would be brave.

     Then, hopefully, it would all be quick.

     Though the plan was to hold his ground until the very last, for Cecilia and everyone else, Russell had—just as he had countless times before, during the fighting years—already accepted the likely outcome.

     And, same as before, the end never actually came.

     Raguna and Ivan, it turned out, had worked some strange Draconic miracle, and the tanks were stalled in place, held to the Earth with sturdy vines and roots.  There would be no invasion.  There would be no destruction.  Kardia would hold strong, with or without Russell and his pile of stones.

     Utterly exhausted, nerves fried from too many hours on the brink, he felt his legs give out beneath him and fell to his knees on the cobbles.

     A minute or an hour later, Sabrina and Cecilia returned, embracing him right there in the street.

     Russell knew they were speaking to him, a frenetic stream of teary gratitude, but he could hardly hear them over the empty roar of his white-noise mind.  They held him tight, but he still felt himself drifting backward, staring at the horizon for so long that he too felt collapsed into a flat, distant line.  Eventually, Edward emerged from the Clinic and helped him to his feet.  Russell nodded a weak thank-you, then staggered numbly into the Library.

     I guess it happened again.

     Once more, Russell was left to face the sort of world he could never imagine.

     A world where the horror had passed, but he somehow had to keep on living.

~*~

     My eyes blink open to the loathsome summer sun, and I realize how ridiculous I'd been, in thinking it had all ended so neatly.

     That was no miracle.

     It was only a dream.

     And I'm an awful soldier, falling asleep on my feet like that.

     But then again, I was always an awful soldier, wasn't I?

     (All those lives you cut down, and for what?)

     I tell myself that I still have time to be better, if only by dying an honorable death.  The tanks rumble in the distance.  Terrable circles overhead.  I wait; though whether it's for a miracle or a catastrophe, I can't be sure.

     I wait only, perhaps, to be needed.

     I wait, always, for it all to be over, whatever that may mean.

     And then a munition whizzes up from behind the distant treetops, knocking the great Native Dragon from the sky.  The ground shakes.  Trees crack.  The world is thrown off-balance.

     (It really is on you now, isn't it?)

     I adjust the armor to stop its painful digging into my hips, get a better grip on the sword, and take up a stone.  I listen as the rumbling grows closer.

     I wait.

     The sun overheats my brain inside the helmet, and I suddenly remember that something isn't right here.  I shouldn't be hot.  I should be freezing.  But maybe I'm just thinking of my years in the trenches; which, in my mind, seemed to take place in a perpetual winter.

     (But surely, even then, it must have been summer at least some of the time?)

     (I try not to remember.)

     Luckily, I don't have time.

     The tanks emerge from the treeline and crash through the farm.  I plant my feet wide apart and square my shoulders.  I hurl my stone, and my aim is true.  It glances off the helmet of the unfortunate helmsman, but the impact still rung his bell pretty good, and I watch him slump forward in his seat, unconscious or dead.

     Then the tank keeps on rolling, and I realize the horrible truth.

     He was never in control.

     Neither was I.

     This machine was always going to crush me.

     So I drop my sword and let it happen.

     (It's only more waiting.  You can do this.)

     (I'm sorry, Cecilia.  I never had a choice.)

     Mercifully, I don't have to wait very long.

     The steel behemoth barrels toward and over me, making its vile destructive way into the town beyond.  I failed.  I was always going to fail.

     This was how it was supposed to end, and I was a fool for thinking I could ever escape.

     (It's okay.  Just as long as she can.)

     At least the chestpiece isn't hanging on me anymore.  The pressure of the treads crumpled it into my body, drove jagged dented metal into my collapsed ribs.  I can't take a breath, and I guess that's fine.  I don't have much use for air anymore.

     (It's over.  Finally.)

     And that's all I can think: "finally."

     Until, that is, I start wondering why I still have an intact head to think with at all.

~*~

     Russell woke with a start, hands flying over his ribcage in a panic.

     You're all right.  It was just another stupid dream.  Calm down.

     His chest was certainly a site of some genuine distress—lungs heavy with congestion, rib muscles achey from the persistent nighttime cough that had bothered him since autumn, scarred nerves sizzling in the wake of his hasty exam—but it was a far cry from the wreck of twisted metal and pulverized bone his half-dreaming mind had lead him to expect.

     Relieved, Russell sat up, coughed heavily, then collapsed back on the pillows.  He wasn't ground to a pulp in the street.  He was only right here; curled in a ball, blue moonlight, empty bed, daughter drifting peacefully on the other side of their divided room.  The dream had exhausted him, but he was too afraid of a repeat performance to chance sleep again.

     Not tonight, I guess.  I give up.

     Russell crawled out of bed and padded downstairs to the Library, where the thick book was still open face-down across his desk.  He lit a candle, flipped it over, and stared into his own younger, obscured face.  What, he wondered, would he tell him if he could?

     First, he tried it Cecilia's way.

     You're being so brave.

     As before, it rang hollow.  So he decided to try something else.

     I know what you're going to do.  Hell, I know what you've already done.  You make me sick.

     He tasted bile on the back of his tongue, felt his vision begin to shiver.  For a moment, Russell felt as though he was about to pass out from sheer white-hot rage, and was indeed so exhausted that it would have been welcome.

     Suddenly, a third thought; another message trying to propel itself across time, to leap into the illustration as through a magic portal.

     I know you're tired.

     Somewhere—perhaps buried in his own flesh, like a shard of jagged shrapnel—that lost boy must have heard, because Russell was overcome with something that felt too massive to name or express.

     He lay his head down on the cool scarred wood of the desk, and silently wept until dawn.

[lyraeon]

ok so one of my current physical therapy assignments is walking 30 minutes at least 3 times a week, which I have decided to fulfil by walking to the corner store and back since I can get myself a little treat in the process, or just pick up stuff I might be out of etc

so today I'm looking through the sodas because I have leftover pizza at home, and pizza is the one food that just has to be eaten with soda in my mind, like even burgers I can sub in a lemonade you know? and I was gonna just buy a root beer but then I see it

a row of cans of Warheads sour candy flavored soda

if you are unfamiliar with warheads, they are a hard candy you're meant to suck on that is already sour to begin with, but then has what I can only assume is a pure citric acid powdered coating on the outside. you know how pineapples burn your mouth and bite you back? yeah well having more than one of these in a day would fry your tastebuds so bad that I distinctly remember several kids in the 5th grade crying because they thought they'd burned their tastebuds off like the fingerprint erasers from MIB. these were the way playground tough guys at my nerdy ass middle school proved how tough they were, while the "wimpier" kids traded urban legends of how to make the sourness burn less the way their college age siblings traded hangover "cures".

(they are also, in retrospect, probably responsible for the resurgence of hot sauce eating, either by introducing us to the thrill of masochism or direct lingual scarring)

(though my other theory is everyone could suddenly smell stuff again after the smoking bans rolled in)

(or maybe it was just the allure of internet fame idk, I am the one consuming the content not the hot sauce in this tangent, I could not tell you what their purpose is)

so I grab a blue raspberry one and, because I am one of those customers who makes too much small talk, I joke to the cashier, "I'm probably gonna regret this, but I had to at least try it"

so imagine my shock and utter disappointment when I get outside, crack it open, cautiously take a sip... and it's not that sour. like if any americans are familiar with how gaggingly sour calypso lemonades are, they weren't even that sour.

I had braced myself for nothing.

(it was still tasty-ish, at least)

but now here I am, back inside and looking at the drink and remembering my reactions to actual warheads the last time I had them

and I am stuck wondering if there is some upper limit to how much sour a drink can be??

like, either as in, an upper limit of how much can literally physically dissolve in it (which this is certainly nowhere near, I can tell you from experience, but it might have been a cloudiness threshold)

or as in - more likely in my mind? - an upper limit to how sour something can be before it's too likely to cause people to choke when they try to swallow? which mind you, I would like to argue this is also nowhere near the upper limit on, but then I remembered that I actually have gagged on a calypso before and that I had to stop drinking them because of acid reflux problems

and well, I never thought I'd be pondering whether something was the flavor it was on account of physics, marketing, or lawsuits, but sometimes you just gotta chase the pondering no matter how bizarre it gets

[theskyexists]

The last graduate reread

It's crazy. People just RUN. You save yourself or it's over. Damn

Does El seriously not realise that if she just got her head out of her ass and told any enclave: I can kill every mal ever ever ever if you just give me the mana... But no

It's something that the scholomance is trying to teach her now. It realised she's got a weakness for poor freshmen lol

But hold on if El got jumped 5 times a week, then how the heck has she never shown off her killing prowess???

She NEVER asks Orion for mana. And he's so unbelievably dumb that he never even offers it

Once again, the last graduate sets the scholomance up as the largest mal ever - perfectly. El literally thinks: it feeds on us. Yet.

Honestly ...I think Orion DOES like Chloe a bit. He likes them all well enough. They're alright. They just don't interest him.

She just killed a whole pack of leskits.

She could have absolutely saved a couple of those 600 kids that died anyway. If she'd had the SENSE to get a power sharer

There were two silly parts in here that I disliked. The plans that went nope. The honeypot plan in original form that went nowhere. And yknow the whole graduation plan.

Was the scholomance trying to get Orion to slow down on his eating too?

I am pretty damn sad that Chloe got such a limited role in the golden enclaves. She's their ALLY. Why wasn't she there for any of it???

Yeah. Why CAN Orion see El? It IS probably because she's a third level entity.

Mana mana mana. Can't find enough mana to do a major working. Ok but. Orion is right there. He's right there. He WILL BE right there in the graduation hall. So. Endless mana.

Yeah this was the disappointing honepot setup. Their first experiment with the lute worked just about. Rework the melody.

Sludging acid that can burn through flesh and bone. It's like she doesn't even see that that might be USEFUL ON MALS???

Last time i also thought this spell was insane. Insane. It took a minute. It took no mana. Its free mana building. All it takes is common selfless purpose. healing. And they never use it again. She could have used it on any one person bleeding out or dying of one or the other mal poison or wound. Like.

Wait... Orion could SEE Cora when she got healed by circle

Wait... Is it because she's pure mana? No. He'd be able to see liu. Its because she's so powerful. So that IS why. Third order entity, thus has crisp edges for a mawmouth

Orion doesn't want the sharer because then he'd suck it dry.

El complaining aboutbrewing instant kill poisons. El...you can throw them...at Mals. You can trade them..... To be thrown at mals....

I would actually bet that the Scholomance has been funneling mals at El before, it was just never so obvious before, and matched to her abilities. Or not.... Did she just run everytime she got jumped? Probably ....

El says ' i understood him perfectly' but she didn't understand him there at all lol

Holy SHIT. Liesel tripped El so bad just before the mortal flame it's basically a fucking murder attempt. What the FUCK. She goddamn well gave you important information too

Ah. Right. She regretted hurting her that bad.

Amazing cake metaphors for Liesel's stunning cleavage lips and hair ensemble that Orion has zero interest in.

AND THEN THEY KISS!!!!!!! great kissing scene

That line I'll never forget it. That there's nothing much more dangerous than a fully grown wizard. Yeah. What if they didn't have to fight for their lives endlessly. What would become of humanity then...

She only realised now, now that freaking khamis did it, that SHE could do it. My god.

El is convinced Orion wouldn't survive. Which is stupid and hilarious in retrospect..he WILL survive

He just won't be able to protect people much. After all he couldn't get at Ellen in time

So the scholomance set up a situation to get El to see she will have to get everybody out. Then threw a course at them that only she can help teams get through

ALFIE!!!!! still so friendly lol

Liesel, a woman after El's own heart.

The Marathi group who traded their spellbook to Jaipur for enclave building spells instantly imploded after getting them. Well now we know why. Some moralists among them

It does also say here that you can purge your own mana. Why doesn't every fucking wizard do that oh my GOD. That's a bad loophole you shouldn't have put in novik

She literally describes the use of a mal binding spell then goes urgh but it was useless. El....you didn't have to keep it... Didn't have to feed it human corpses....just direct it into the void....

El still pessimistically interpreting the scholomance.

El not telling anyone she's gonna save em all.

WHY???? ARE YOU AN IDIOT

I guess the scholomance feels the same

Oh right. This was the moment even the book admitted: El desperately needs help because she can never spit a single thing out that would help everyone

Wow I suddenly love khamis. For finally having a go at El.

Yeah the scholomance made her the enclaver in a group of thousands. But now she's got to live with being that, everybody having to say yes to her stupid plan or die

Edit: kind of hilarious that Liesel was looking like some sort of super attractive vogue model scholomance equivalent and Orion didn't even notice which somehow triggered El into going for it with him. I need a fanfic of that exact scene again with them as highly accomplished adults. Like. El (Killer of Mawmouths) takes Liesel along (Domina of London and Manager of the Mawmouth Extermination Program) into the new Scholomance to visit Orion (Guardian of the Scholomance) and Liesel looks stunning and El looks beautiful naturally but yknow like a hippie nomad who never had the chance to learn how to dress. And somehow you get the same dynamic where El notices how amazing Liesel looks and how Orion doesn't notice at all. And Liesel rolls her eyes at El like, duh. And it again triggers El and Orion making out. Lolololol (because that IS flattering right? And also Liesel IS an aphrodisiac alsjdodjeoddjdjliaks).

[weerentheworld]

Iceland, the good/bad/FAQ

The Good:

South Coast! This area had most of the things I went to see + I lucked out and had great weather for it!

Reykjavik’s Cats I did not know Cats were such a thing in Reykjavik before I visited, so this was a pleasant surprise 

Puffins! I expected to miss these, since I visited later in the summer, was very happy to get to see them!

Landscapes in general- Seriously, this was one of those countries where just sitting and looking out the window was an experience

Food Allergy awareness. This is the first country I’ve visited where EVERY restaurant I went to had a sign or a note on their menu saying to please let them know of any food allergy/restrictions and that they would accommodate you if they could. It made me really happy to see since asking about garlic can be awkward.  

The Bad:

Golden Circle - this area in particular was overcrowded and overhyped in my opinion. It’s not bad/not worth seeing, it’s just so many other parts of iceland are more worth seeing

Too much time in Reykjavik. This was more of a planning error on my part rather than a reflection on Reykjavik. Reykjavik itself was great! But it is a smaller city, and without a car to check out some of the farther out attractions easily it was pretty easy to feel like I’d seen everything in the city center between the full day I’d spent exploring Reykjavik, the ½ day I had on arrival, and the evenings I had free after day tours. So by the end of my trip I wasn’t tired of Iceland, but I was tired of Reykjavik. If I could do it over I might trade the full day I spend in Reykjavik for another ½ day tour, or plan to spend some time in Vik or another nearby city.

Public transport is challenging- this may have been a me problem! But while there are options in Reykjavik for public transport (bus, scooters) both are mainly used through apps. And my phone was on airplane mode most of the trip to save costs. Likewise, I didn’t have an iceland phone number so I never did figure out how I was supposed to use the bus app as a guest with the risk of losing connection. Buses do take cash, but my understanding is they don’t give change.

Wish I’d known (although in hindsight this makes sense): 

Weather dependent activities are very weather dependent! So have a backup and if the weather is looking funky don’t be afraid to reschedule before the refund window closes! This was my big mistake, I got into a cancel-chicken game with one of the vendors, and felt like it blocked me from planning other activities. 

Lodging/Car rental fills up in advance. Tbf I kinda knew this one, but was reminded of it when I tried making some last min contingency plans

FAQ

Q: How was traveling via day trips vs driving around the ring road vs doing a longer group tour?

A: Hard to say, since I only did one of these in iceland.

Do I still think I made the right call in planning day trips? Yes! I don’t much care for driving, and I liked that I still got to see lots of the country via day trips. Plus there are so many different options for day trips that you still have a lot of flexibility in planning.

I also think that day trips were a better option than a long group tour for me this trip. Since it was my first visit to Iceland I was okay with not saying I went around the whole country. Still, if I’d wanted to visit some more remote destinations (ones that can’t be reached in a day or don’t have day tours offered from Reykjavik) a longer group tour could have been a good alternative to reaching those places without driving.

I also liked not having to switch hotel rooms mid-trip, but this was personal preference. 

So really the answer is what works for you?

If you like driving and want more flexibility/control over where you stop and how long you stay for driving might be the answer. Iceland is reportedly an easy country to drive in, although gas can be expensive, so it is likely not the most cost effective option for a solo traveler.

If you want variety and fear getting stuck with a not so fun group, go for day tours.

If you want to reach more remote areas but don’t want to drive, a longer group tour may be the way to go.

Personally I’d recommend to mix and match from the above options a bit more. Maybe do a multi-day tour or get a car for part of the trip, but do day tours for the rest.

Do be aware! If you plan to drive in Iceland there are multiple places regular cars cannot go due to rough terrain! 

So even if you get a car you may still need to plan to book day tours to reach some sites, depending on vehicle type + your level of comfort with rough terrain. 

~~~

Q: What companies did you travel with and how were they?

A: Note I booked most of these via Viator or Trip advisor or get your guide. It likely would have been cheaper to book directly from the sites of the companies in hindsight.

Viator & get your guide were fine, Trip advisor was more than a little wonky.

Nice Travel, went to both the South Coast and Golden Circle + Sky lagoon. Very pleased with this company. The South Coast guide Maria was the absolute best guide on the entire trip! The Golden circle guide was good as well. Both guides gave lots of context as to what we were seeing/visiting and did a good job of pointing out bigger and smaller sights. Likewise the both helped squeeze in a bonus sights, time permitting. Both tours were on a smaller day bus (I think 20 people max? Think a large van)

Troll expeditions, Snaefellsnes. Less pleased with this company. Tended to give less context and the division of time was odd. We’d spend not enough time at bigger sights and too much time at smaller ones, like a simple overlook. Still they are one of the bigger companies, so maybe just got a bad guide?

Activity Iceland, Jeep tour to the hidden valley of thor. Again, very pleased. This was the smallest tour I took since it was to a lesser known site so booking was a little difficult since I had to re-book based on availability. Still the company was very nice in working with me on this, and this was not a sight I could have seen by driving on my own.

Arctic Adventures- landmannalaugar hike. Not much info during the drive, likely since this was on a bigger tour bus. But they did give great info during the hike (although I missed some of it since I was walking at my own pace to take pics). I think this company tends to have larger sized tours.    

Íshestar, horseback riding. Driver didn’t have great communication to the point that some of us were unsure if we were on the right bus. A good overall experience, and I liked that they had a group for beginners and advanced riders, but I think there might be more scenic options with other horseback riding companies.

Wake Up Reykjavik, Reykjavik food tour. This was great! A good introduction to Reykjavik & Icelandic food, a great guide and very accommodating for food allergies. I do wish I’d booked it earlier in my trip however so I had more time to apply the knowledge throughout the trip.

Reykjavik Excursions- Lava tunnel. I’m a little unclear how much of this was Reykjavik Excursions vs how much was the lava tunnel staff? The pick-up and transport went fine, but then we had to wait a while with no explanation for the tour to start. The tour of the lava tunnel was okay, guide was a bit annoying and we didn’t have much time to get back to the bus once the tour of the lava tunnel ended (still in the lava tunnel)

Tourism Iceland / GlacierHeli Iceland - Didn’t go on a tour with them due to weather, but they still get a shout out for AWFUL communication skills. Would avoid.

Other activities

Mink Viking Portrait Iceland - not a tour, but a fun experience if you’re into it/looking to kill time in Reykjavik in a fun/unique way

Lava show- Awesome! Check it out! Do book in advance.

Perlan- Good, the ice cave was the main attraction for me. Prob could have spent less time here overall, did not need to book in advance when I went, but that might be different in a more crowded month.

Omnom chocolate- must do/visit. If you can’t make it to the shop, be sure to buy some in stores. It’s more unique than I expected (in a good way!)

Chromo sapiens- not really worth the price/travel distance. Maybe if you have a car and want to kill some time.

~~~

Q: Is Iceland expensive?

A: Yes and no

Some things are very expensive: Taxis are awful, dinner can be expensive, and while I didn’t deal with it, I’m told gas is high. Iceland sweaters, if you get one, are expensive.

Some things not so much: Day tours are not cheap, but I did feel they are reasonably priced and are similar to USA prices for similar excursions. Likewise you can find food that’s at the lower end of the price range. Other souvenirs varied in price.

Lodging was medium? I’m not as sure of this answer as I booked lodging more based on location and availability as I booked closer to my trip than I should have. I did feel like I got a good value for my dollar. I stayed at Loft HI Hostel which was right in the city center. I also ended up with a private room which was more expensive for a hostel, but still on the lower side for hotels I think (again I didn’t shop around all that much due to time.)

Personally I spent less than I expected to (but mostly because I thought it would be more expensive than it was!)

Part of this was food. I absolutely got some expensive dinners, but I also saved money on lunch, since I was bringing PB&Js with me on day trips and only buying snacks during the day.

This was more about garlic than costs but it worked out well.

Likewise some of those expensive dinners were because this was an option I’d found that was garlic free and I was tired of looking around. 

(I’ve decided I’ve reached an age/income where I’ve stopped making price compromises for garlic when I travel. If an expensive option is garlic free, I’m going to eat it and not stress about it. It’s not worth the non monetary cost of dealing with garlic poisoning on a trip. That said, this does result in me budgeting more $ for food than I might have when I was younger and would have been more willing to compromise for a safe sandwich.)

Expensive is also relative. Have you traveled/lived in the USA lately? Compared to that, Iceland isn’t so bad overall, but as mentioned above some things are still expensive.

Compared to a destination where the dollar goes further like Thailand, Iceland is very expensive  

~~~

Q: How widespread is english?

A: VERY!!! 

~~~

Q: Was late august a good time to visit?

A: Yes (for summer)

Iceland is what I'd call a seasonal destination in that it’s very different at different times of year, mainly the summer and winter.

But there are also pros/cons to visiting in diff months. 

High summer when lupins are in bloom and there’s 24 hours of daylight is likely different from what I experienced in late august, but I likely got less crowds.

Winter would be a very different experience!

If you’re thinking of visiting, consider what you want to see and how available it’s likely to be during your visit.

Ex: I was hoping to see puffins, which are easier to see during high summer. During late august the puffin tours stop running since the birds have likely left for the season at that point. I was very lucky that I was still able to see them, and even then I was mostly seeing stragglers. (But I wasn’t able to visit sooner, so I took the gamble of maybe puffins in late summer over cheaper prices and no puffins in fall)

Likewise I really wanted to see moss fields, which are greener in summer.

Northern lights I wanted to see (who doesn’t?!) but was willing to do without, knowing they were very unlikely this time of year.

If you just want to generally see Iceland it might be worth considering a shoulder season (late/early summer, or spring/fall) to get cheaper prices/less crowds- although I don’t know if as many tours run during these months, and some parts of the country may not be accessible due to snow.

Still I think it’s telling that I saw several photo books of Iceland in the fall.

~~~

Q: Any tips?

A: Plan your must-sees sooner than later in the trip, and have some flexibility! 

Iceland can be very weather dependent, and even if you can get to a location on a day with bad weather, the weather may get in the way of pictures or doing something there. It’s nice to have a ‘spare day’ near the end of your trip to try to either re-visit a high priority location where you might want to re-take pics or can plan extra activities should you not need to re-visit anywhere.

That said, it’s a good idea to have some options for the extra activities planned out, and I would go ahead and book 1-2 days in advance. 

Day tours could be booked the day before, but sometimes they sold out. Usually they could not be booked day-of due to early start times if leaving from Reykjavik.

Booking the blue lagoon coming from the airport worked out beautifully! 

You need waterproof/water resistant gear regardless of the season!

~~~

If I go again:

I’d revisit in the summer, but nearer the height of puffin season/ when there’s extra daylight for driving.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t go in winter, but I feel like there are other places to see winter in the far north besides just iceland.

If I went again I’d either get a car or a car + day trips, mostly depending on how accessible some of the below sites are.

I’d want to explore some areas of the south coast that I didn't see this time. I think I’d also look into combining an Iceland re-visit with another country in Europe to justify the length/cost of the flight across the pond.

Places/Things I’d see if I went again (having missed them this time)

Breiðamerkursandur (Diamond Beach) +  Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon. Didn’t go this time since while it can be reached by day tour it’s a bit far out (but I should have!). I also didn’t realize how unique it is for some reason till it was too late. Idk if I could drive here, but I could at least drive to Vik and hopefully book a shorter day tour from there.

This is my big wish I did this trip. If you’re staying in Reykjavik and looking at the distance like I was, I'd go ahead and go on the day trip.

Reykjadalur Hot Springs Trail! (river hot spring) tried to do this but ran into public transport concerns. Still bummed I missed out on it. Only 45 min from Reykjavik

Westman islands. Sadly I couldn’t find a day trip here from Reykjavik. But if I’d had an extra 2 days and a car I would have absolutely visited! They are remote so may not be for everyone, some fellow travelers recommended them but others didn’t, but I understand they are likely to have puffins and the travelers who recommended them seemed to have similar vibes to me.

Fjadrargljufur canyon - Maybe. I kept seeing this on postcards and it looked really pretty. Not a must do for a first trip, but I’d check it out on a 2nd trip (if it’s open, it’s been subject to overcrowding in past years)

The Reykjavik Cat Walking Tour. Maybe. Didn’t get to do this due to booking difficulties this time. Would try to book again based on if I was going to be in Reykjavik any.

Eat more Icelandic bread. The rye bread I had on the food tour was amazing. I needed more of it. May have ordered more from iceland once I got home, but eating more fresh would be even better. 

Go inside a volcano. Maybe. There’s tours that let you hike up to a (dormant) volcano and then lower you inside. Tried to book this one but had some scheduling conflicts/it was sold out.

Blue lagoon. It's so close to the airport why not go again?

And, luck permitting, see a volcanic eruption (from a safe distance). This wasn’t an option this trip as there were not any active eruptions when I visited, but maybe someday.

[violettewolfheart]

Meet my pets!

Meet Baxter (left) and Milo (right)!

Baxter is a 6 year old black lab who is sadly the only surviving one of his siblings from what we have heard, the vet was fairly positive it was parvo, unfortunately he came from bad breeders but we are thankful we were able to get him the care he needed. He is a little over weight and extremely unhappy with his diet.

Milo is a 1 and half year old "mutt" he was part of an oops litter from someone who breeds Golden Retrievers apparently so they were just rehoming the puppies for free, he unfortunately does have some birth defects, one being a weak bladder that he is now on medication for (those were fun vet visits with one vet claiming we just don't know how to potty train a dog) and we think he might have some mental stuff going on too, nothing major, just some funny little quirks that just make him extra lovable, like jumping up onto furniture sideways and sideways kisses (makes them extra sloppy and not the most pleasant experience but I wouldn't trade it for anything)

This is Imelda, a normal western hognose snake! She is my first ever snake/reptile! After a weird chain of video recommendations (somehow ended up from blacksmithing videos, which had been an interest at one point, to Ants Canada, to tarantulas and then to reptiles) I ended up learning about her species right before the pandemic and spent the lockdown learning everything I could about them and I ended up getting her in the fall of 2020 after absolutely falling in love with her picture online.

This is Corcoran! He is a Lavender morph Western Hognose! I got him in the summer of 2021, because it's true after you get one snake/reptile you're gonna want more!

This is Mr. Wilson, a Bearded Dragon of unknown age and origins, he was rehomed to.me through a friend who knew the people who were briefly taking care of him and then went to rehome him, she had informed me of this because she knew that I had a little experience with reptiles and that someone who shouldn't have pets at all was also wanting him. Was quite surprised to find out he was in good health since I didn't have much information about him before hand.

This is Cookie (Dough) my first ever Guinea pig, she has a sad story, her original owners decided they didn't want guinea pigs anymore and decided that rehoming them was too much of a hassle and released them outside. In minnesota. Their friend went and was able to catch her, but sadly not the other one. Life happens, and she had to be rehomed again and through some miscommunication with a friend's coworker (they thought she could take her) she is now with me. She's very outgoing and not afraid of being out and about, still don't quite trust me for handling, but I can safely pick her up to move her when need be.

And last but not least is Angel (Food), I got her at a locally owned pet shop that also takes in surrenders to rehome, I got her in the hopes to bond with Cookie but it's still a work in progress and Im not sure if Cookie will want anything to do with her. She is extremely shy and isn't comfortable with being out when I'm in the room, I have to use a soft hide/pouch to move her safely since she will bite and has gotten lose a couple of time on me. Cookie and Angel are kept in a secure room that the dogs do not have access to for their safety.

And that's my weird amalgamation of a pet family.

[talldarkandroguesome]

13th of Sun’s Dusk, Sundas

Sildras has been so very excited to use his telescope. He has moved some of his furniture around so that he can prop it up upon a large trunk, giving it a perfect angle to the sky, or so he says.

Of course, purchasing it from Gahalma Helma means that the Mages Guild Artificer has been round to ask if we were still interested in the various models she had shown us. I sent her back a kindly worded letter thanking her for all the advanced models, but said that we had thought it best that, should enchanting he a part of the learning process, that my son learn to do that himself as he went through his lessons. I am sure she is kicking herself for trying to upsell us at every turn. Alas, that is how it goes.

I did speak with Gahalma Helma about the levitating mechanical Vehk. She was very taken by the idea. She said she mostly stuck to images of Seht, given the nature of her craft, but it was her honor to come up with some method by which to create the custom piece. When she told me that it would take a while for the pricing since she still was unsure of exactly what it might take to create it, I told her that I was not worried about such things and that, should she be inclined, she should begin experimenting to make the mechanisms that she needed and I gave her a patron’s sum. Something to provide her parts and pay for the time spent working.

It was a sizable chunk of my personal stipend, but considering how much frivolous coin is spent on lesser things by the House, I do not feel bad. Besides, it will no doubt become the talk of the town. Perhaps I should have a glowing Almalexia made as well. Something to show off. I will have to inquire about that when I next go to check in with her. I know she said she was going to have to hire on another apprentice to be able to complete the work, which I told her to feel welcome to include the charge of which into the cost. It almost seemed like she was afraid to ask me, like it might scare me off with the pricing, but honestly, if I can take this amazing craftsmer and provide her a better quality of customers, it will be well earned. I know that once Sildras begins to talk about the telescope in his class, which I have no doubt he will, that it will drum up more business for her.

That said, I am thinking of going to the mer who did the very intricate telescopes to try and get a gift for Avon. He has seemed so down lately. And I feel as though he has been left behind in so much. I want him to know just how much we all truly appreciate him. I could not manage without him. Of course, he does not believe it when I simply tell him, so I will need to give him a token of my appreciation.

Last night we went to the theater. Instead of purchasing the usual box, I decided to get us seats on the floor. They were fairly close to the front, but something more akin to what those with a little less privilege might procure. I had tried to get seats in one of the poorer areas, honestly, but they were sold out.

The show was two variety acts and a short play, a comedy. Sildras had a little issue with seeing, the woman in front of him being both tall and with her hair styled up. I offered him my lap to see better, but he told me he was too old for that sort of thing, so between the first at and the second, I traded seats with him and gave him my cloak to sit upon to help boost him up. After that he seemed to have a grand time.

The variety acts were very impressive. The first was a Khajiit couple who talked about the strange things that Mournhold was known for. A mix of comedy and history. All of it true, of course, but presented in a very fun way. The second act was a troupe of Argonian aerial performers. They did suspension for great silks and rings, they jumped between ropes, they would contort themselves in incredible figures together and then levitate and rotate around the stage.

Then there was the play. It was about a misunderstanding between three brothers going to Skyrim for the first time. I believe that the actors may even have been three actual brothers. Two of them, at least, bore nearly identical features. They were certainly all related. As amusing as the play was, the troope manager, who came out between acts, was a favorite of the crowd. He would provide jokes, do physical comedy bits, and seemed to wind up in every act, somehow. The narrator of the play was also very funny and I would love to have seen him do more, though he played his part very well. He was clearly a man who was used to soaking up the central role and I would pay good money to see it. I shall have to keep an eye out for their next performance. I do believe they are relatively local.

B’cahn! Is that really the time? Luayl is going to be so cross!