#but it just fills me with joy to see the resurgence in this and also makes me feel some complex emotions because it's a part of little me

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

I'm sorry I can't take your call right now, I'm becoming unhinged about Transformers again,,,

[bakatenshii]

I got lip filler this morning and the doctor had vivienne Westwood nails and I thought of u😌 u r influencing the world I’m sure

AHHHH thats so cUTE of u, I am kissing u thru the screen on ur new sexy juicy lips thank u (*´∀｀*)

[bangtan-madi]

546 Days Without You — Ten: Day 300

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2.7k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 10 / 15

Warnings — none

A/N — I am so sorry for the long wait for this update, guys. Same old story; all work, no play. Hope it's made up for the absence somehow. Thanks for sticking with me <3

Previous — Next

The roar of the crowds grows louder and louder as showtime gets closer. Fans pour in for hours, elated and ecstatic to see the boys in person. Singing and dancing, cheers and laughter, all forms of joy fill Olympic Stadium. As the time grows nearer, you can feel the auditorium start to tremble under your feet. It's far from the first time you've been this close to a show—this has been part of your life for the last eight years—but being such an integral part of it gives the night a whole other feeling.

The only way you can describe it is pure wonder.

Peering down to see the massive crowds finding their seats, ensuring that you remain hidden behind the large stage lighting on the highest balcony, you force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it. It's the one thing that's worked consistently through the last year, and it's the one thing Seokjin's told you on a regular basis. 

"If your breath is off, you'll feel it," he'd repeat over and over on every call. And then he'd follow that up with a silly joke and force you to practice breathing with him. 

To which you'd always give him an eye-roll and sarcastic quip—while practicing with him, of course. It's his way of showing how much he cares. He'd talked you through plenty of moments of self-doubt.

"Remember: Sing for yourself first—the rest of the world can follow suit."

But the shoulder you leaned on that particular night was that of your brother. He'd been promoted recently and was given similar freeing privileges, so you no longer had to rely on such an archaic way of communication.

"Are you nervous for tomorrow?" he'd asked the night before, voice soft and timbre as you remember.

You'd tried to make it seem as if the nerves were gone, but even with the slight tremble in your voice, you could tell that he knew right away. You might've been able to fool most people that you were conquering the hoard of butterflies in your stomach, but Yoongi reads you like an open book.

"And don't lie."

"It's my first live show," you explained. "We've been practicing for the tour for months. I've been nailing my singing and rapping. All of us are spent, and tour hasn't even begun...but we're also the most excited we've been in a while. It feels like we haven't been with the Army in so, so long. Like years have passed."

"So you're torn, aren't you?"

Even though you knew he couldn't see you, you nodded your agreement. "I never thought I'd be so excited to tour with them. At first, I was horrified at the idea. And then I saw the benefits and thought it could be fun. Everyone's been so supportive and helpful. The boys and the team have guided me through all the parts I'd only seen from the sidelines. Now that I'm in the middle of it...I feel both honored and thrilled and terrified and nervous."

Yoongi chuckled softly at the confession. "That's awfully honest of you. Normally I have to pry it out of you."

"What can I say? I've spent an ungodly amount of time with Jimin. Like, even more than before. I'm now a professional feeler."

Your brother's laughter grew in volume, then fades as he insisted, "Well, your feelings are totally valid. The older I get, the more I realize that it's both normal and fine to have conflicting emotions. You can be both excited and scared. You can be nervous and thrilled. You can both be impatient to begin and scared of it, too. That's life. That's the human condition."

"Even if I feel sick to my stomach?" you asked with a chortle. 

"Especially if. We paint our lives as two distinct sides and tell ourselves that we must be in one or the other. We're happy. We're sad. We're scared. We're delighted. There are no in-betweens. But here's the thing: life is not binary. There's no black and white, and you have to learn to be okay with being all of these things at once. It's a lot, but it's the greatest part of life."

"And the worst," you added.

Yoongi laughed, "Well, that's part of it, too!"

You let out a huff of air and felt the uneasiness in your body settle down as his words hit home. "When did you get so wise, Yoongles?"

"I've always been wise. You're just now enlightened enough to see it."

Thinking back on that conversation, you can't help but chuckle and bring your attention back to the moment. The night is unraveling perfectly. All of the work and time and money that's been invested in this tour, especially the first night, is paying off. For once, the universe is on your side, and all is going according to plan. In a few moments, you'll begin the trek down to the stage interior and begin the final prep for the performance.

But in this moment, you stand with arms braced against the metal railing, gazing from the Army, to the stage, and up to the periwinkle sky. The lights are twinkling as bombs light up across the tens of thousands, and the horizon wraps around the stadium like a blanket. The weather is clear and the stars are beginning to show themselves. 

It brings a smile to your face when you realize you're comfortable with the medley of feelings in your chest, and that you find yourself more than willing to face the night with them.

Straightening up, you raise your hand to catch the wind as a breeze sweeps down from the clouds and into the crowds. Your smile grows, and a joyful sound builds in your chest. And for the first time, your heartbeat quickens not from fear alone, but from excitement.

Bounding down the stairs, two at a time, you sneak around the Army and make your way back to the boys. Most of them are already dressed for the first performance, with a couple finishing touches being added to their hair and makeup. Jimin catches your gaze first, forever the worrisome one. You give a reassuring smile, and the tiny line between Jimin's brows dissipates. 

Taehyung pulls you towards the stylist. "You need to get ready," he orders with a playful smile. "We have the first couple of songs, then you're up."

Nodding once, you turn towards your flashy tour garb that hangs on the rack to the side. "Got it."

"Are you ready, [Y/n]-ie?" Hoseok inquires.

You give the now-senior member two thumbs-ups, grin widening. "I got this. We got this!"

Namjoon ruffles your hair as he passes, surprised and thrilled with your eagerness. To which Jungkook shouts, "Let's get it!"

After the vocal line's song comes to an end, and the cheers begin to fade, you're ushered to the lift under the stage. Jimin holds your hand along the way, and he's the one that helps you up the step and onto the platform. Jungkook hands you your sparkly, white mic and leaves his tattooed hand on your trembling fingers as reassurance.

Hoseok adjusts your matching earpieces so that they stay in place, and Taehyung places a stabilizing hand between your shoulder blades. Namjoon's eyes lock with yours, and even though no words are said, the nod he gives you says everything.

Focusing on a calm exhale, you give a thumbs up to the members. As they visibly relax and back away from the platform, you raise your thumb towards the crew. A lever is pulled, and the gears in the lift groan to life. You crouch down as the platform begins to rise, letting your eyes flutter shut in one final moment of tranquility.

White noise. It's the only sound you can hear through the muffling of your earpieces. Not even technology can block out the cheers and elations of Army. The pitter-patter of your heart causes the smile to spread across your face.

Opening your eyes, the platform halts at the top of the stage. You straighten your legs as a rush of adrenaline pumps through your body. The sudden resurgence of energy has you blasting out onto the stage, as perfect as all those days of practice could be. Except this time, you have a sea of lights that play against the dark.

The live track begins to play, and you strut to your on-stage cue. Lifting the microphone to your lips, you begin to sing. From the very first note, the crowd goes wild. It's everything you could've dreamed and more. The way they immediately sing along, the way they dance along with you despite not knowing all the choreography, the way they cheer for someone who's as new to this stage as a trainee. Their support lifts you and carries you along your well-practiced routine.

The melody flows from the first verse to the chorus, then into the second verse. Not once does your voice crack. Not once does your memory falter. Not once do your feet tangle under you. If ever there were a perfect performance, especially with the high note in the bridge before the final chorus, it was this night in Seoul.

You know Seokjin and Yoongi would be proud as hell.

When the song comes to an end, the mic drops from your lips and your head rolls back. You take a moment to let the sight around you imprint in the back of your mind. Every part of this first performance, you want to remember it forever. Even the bittersweet fact that your brother and lover are far away from such an impactful moment.

Tears well up in your eyes as the lights fade. The backup dancers rush off stage, and you're pulled with them. You hadn't expected the sadness to hit you this soon after performing; by the time you're backstage with the members, your sight is blurry and your lips quiver.

"Whoa, whoa." Hoseok is over at your side in an instant, and Jimin cups your face between his palms. "You did great! Why are you crying?"

"You killed it," Jungkook agrees with a bunny-esque grin.

You shake your head fervently, brushing away the tears with the back of your hand. "It's not that," you murmur, and Taehyung wraps you in a back-hug. "It's not that at all."

That's all you have to say, and the others fall silent with understanding. Namjoon gives your shoulder a squeeze, and Jungkook offers you a bottled water. 

"Drink slowly and sit down," the leader orders softly. "Hoseok and I are up next, but take it easy with the maknaes for a second, okay?"

Nodding your acceptance, you watch as the two oldest skip out towards the stage for another wild and passionate performance. Jimin grabs your hand and, threading his fingers through yours, ushers you towards the break area backstage. The music and crowds fade away, replaced by quiet.

Jimin kneels down in front of you, while Taehyung wraps you in a side hug. Jungkook grabs a small snack from the side table and insists you get some food into your system so the shakiness stops.

"We got you," the youngest of the three chides. 

You give the brunet a grateful expression and take the chips from his grasp. It takes all your energy to focus on the three around you, in this moment, and not on the two that are absent. It'd taken you by surprise as you left the stage; you thought you'd come to terms with Seokjin and Yoongi being so far away. But after performing the song that poured out your emotions, you feel raw and exposed and drained. It's near impossible to tear your mind away.

However, eventually, you're calm enough to drink and eat a little, much to their relief. Blinking away the remnants of your tears, you heave a short breath and murmur, "Sorry...I don't know why I got caught up in that again."

Jimin's thumbs brush across your cheeks. "Don't be. It's always emotional performing a song for the first time. We should have warned you."

"And one of the members is always crying after a show," Jungkook chuckles. "So don't beat yourself up."

Taehyung adds, "It's almost always one of us."

The comments cause you to laugh, and the tension in the room dissipates. One of the producers pops her head through the door and says, "Jin's recording is up next. Are you still okay to go on stage?"

The boys turn to you, and you nod assuredly. Standing up, you drag them with you. The gentle squeeze your fingers give lets them know of your choice. They follow you without question.

It’s time to face the music.

And that’s what you keep telling yourself, time and time again, as the stage stands dauntingly ahead. Curtains and props rise up around you. Bombs light up the arena with their iridescent glow. Armys chant and sing, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

Despite the wondrous things you have seen the first day of the tour, despite being surrounded by five of your closest friends–men you consider your brothers, despite the great adventure that lies in front of you, the only thing consuming your mind at this moment is him. What you wouldn’t do to have him beside you, what you wouldn’t trade to thread your fingers through his, what you wouldn’t sacrifice to hear his angelic voice harmonizing with yours.

Then you hear it. 

As if from a hazy dream, somewhere in the fog that is your mind you recognize the vocals that begin to play. Unlike most of the performance, this particular piece is a recording. You’ve lost count how many times you’d watched it, in your darkest moments when the heartbreak in your chest becomes too much to bear.

As you glance to the side, to the gigantic screen at the back of the stage, you see Seokjin’s face exactly as your memory promised. This recording isn’t one from a music video or short film, nor is it from the tour or live show from earlier last year. No, the Jin singing now is barefaced and adorned in an ocean blue sweater with an image of RJ on the chest. A guitar in hand, he sings in the privacy of your home, the one you shared for almost two years before he left. It’s intimate and beautiful and goofy, everything you love to death about the man himself.

And it brings a smile to your face when you hear the song he wrote for you.

A gentle hand grasps yours as the song nears the second chorus. Jimin stands at your side, a look of cautious worry on his makeup-enhanced features. He doesn’t say a word, but his expression tells you what he would say if the microphones weren’t turned on.

Are you okay? Are you holding up? Do you need a moment before we go on again?

Giving a small nod of reassurance, you squeeze the hand of your closest friend in an attempt to reassure him. Jimin nods once and rests his chin on your shoulder. Both of your gazes shift back to the screen, back to Seokjin, back to one of several people you miss more than the world.

You’ve made it 300 days thus far, but it breaks your heart when you remember that you still have 246 days yet to bear. No one should have to stay away from the one they love for 546 days.

At that moment, you pray even harder for the strength and courage to make it 246 more days.

But until then, you’ll keep repeating those six words over and over until your fear disappears.

It’s time to face the music. 

Taglist — @joyful-jimin​​​, @gracehiii​​, @live-2-fangirl​​, @rjsmochii​​​, @btsnatalena​

[murdercide626]

My SSBU Roster DLC Wish List

Decided to update my list of most wanted Smash Bros. fighters. And of course since Min Min was added to the roster, that means spirits officially do not deconfirm possible roster candidates! So this time, NO HOLDS BARRED! Also, I don't care how unlikely one of my selections is, this is my list, I do whuh I wan'! PLAUSIBILITY BE DAMNED!

I'll also be listing these in ascending order, building up to my #1 most wanted fighter!

Here we go!

=====================

#10:

PORKY MINCH

I think we could use another Earthbound/Mother rep, and who better than this lil bastard? He served as a major antagonist in both Earthbound/Mother 2 and Mother 3, and was also a boss in Brawl, so it seems like he'd be a pretty good choice for a future fighter!

=====================

#9:

GENO

Yeah, tons of people want Geno in the game, and I'm definitely among them! SMRPG is a fondly remembered classic, and I think Geno has good potential as a playable fighter! Hopefully we'll get to see this guy in action!

=====================

#8:

SCORPION

HEAR ME OUT! Yeah, Mortal Kombat is DEFINITELY NOT family friendly, but then again neither is Bayonetta. And I don't think it'd be difficult to incorporate Scorpion's familiar moveset without the gore. And come on, you know you want that kickass Mortal Kombat theme in the game! lol

.

=====================

#7:

CAPTAIN SYRUP

Wario Land desperately needs more love, and I think Captain Syrup would be the perfect character to represent that series! And if they utilize callbacks well enough, then she could have a very fun and interesting moveset!

=====================

#6:

SORA

Definitely a long shot considering Kingdom Hearts is a Disney franchise, but I'd personally love to see Sora rubbing elbows with some of gaming's most iconic characters!

=====================

#5:

RAYMAN

I'm pretty damn fond of the Rayman series, and I think this guy has what it takes to be an awesome addition to the roster! Especially if they take full advantage of all the powerups throughout the series!

=====================

#4:

SHANTAE

I'm also a big fan of the Shantae series of games! And considering all of Shantae's magical abilities and many transformations, I know she could be a fun and unique addition to the roster!

=====================

#3:

EARTHWORM JIM

Yeah, this entry is pretty much just my inner child screaming out for one of my earliest video game obsessions. lol

But I really do think Jim would be an excellent addition to the roster with a fun and bizarre moveset and wacky animations! And this wouldn't even be Jim's first appearance as a guest character in a fighting game (having already appeared in Clayfighter 63 1/3 and Battle Arena Toshinden).

=====================

#2:

DR. EGGMAN

The way I see it, if other third party series (such as Street Fighter and Castlevania) can have multiple reps, why not Sonic? And I personally wouldn't have anyone other than the nefarious Doctor himself filling that spot! And they could put him in a small mech to fight in (a la Sonic The Fighters)! Seriously though, I would freak the f*** out from sheer geeky joy if Eggman ever got added to the roster! :D

=====================

AND MY #1 MOST WANTED DLC FIGHTER IS....

.........

.........

.........

.

.

.

.

CRASH BANDICOOT!

Seriously, Crash would be so frikkin PERFECT in Smash Bros.! He's a fun and unique character with great moveset potential, his game franchise is both celebrated and long lived (with a pretty strong resurgence in recent years), and the Crash Bandicoot series has had some good history of collaborating with Nintendo! Not to mention that Crash started out as a rival mascot to both Nintendo and Sega, so seeing him go toe-to-toe with Mario and Sonic would be pretty damn epic! :D

=====================

So yeah, there's my list. lol

I can only hope at least one of these characters will make it onto the roster! *crosses fingers*

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.7

Summary: Steve is reeling from Bucky’s departure and trying to make sense of what to do next. After an unexpected clue and a surprise offer of help, Steve does everything he can to make New York safe for Bucky to return. The only problem then becomes, what if that’s not what Bucky wants?  Master list is HERE

Content Warning: None :)

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! The last chapter is here!! Thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this fic through all of it’s ups and downs. Please enjoy the last bit of the journey and the much awaited happily ever after. The epilogue goes up next, so keep an eye out right after this. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Seven

Steve

Three weeks. It has been three excruciating weeks of searching and hoping and ultimately losing hope. Steve feels like he’s living in a world of grey, nothing brings him joy quite the same way it used to. It’s startling to discover how quickly he’d grown to care for Bucky and how empty his life feels without the other man. After a few days of trying to give Bucky space, Steve had reached out only to find the brunette was gone. It was hard to believe, especially after Bucky had just promised not to run away when things got tough. Steve had been frantic at first, fearing the worst, until Tony had done some research and shown Steve the paper trail. Bucky had drained his bank account and bought one way tickets to Moscow for him and Becca. The trail went cold after that, he’d ditched his phone and stopped using cards, disappearing like a ghost in the night. 

After four days of hiding in his bed mourning the loss of what was and what could have been, Steve went down to the mission debriefing Tony was hosting and dove head first back into work. It’s been non-stop missions from that point on. Days off are too lonely without having someone to text or call or visit. The nights are even worse. So Steve pours himself into the all consuming need to eliminate the threat that had sent Bucky running in the first place. Steve knows it’s not the healthiest reaction but a small part of him clings to the hope that if he can remove the threat, Bucky will be able to come home. A more rational part of him points out that even with Hydra gone there are other threats. And how would Bucky even know that Hydra had been defeated? Desperation and hope had never been rational things though. 

The team worries about Steve the longer his non-stop working goes on. They each approach the subject differently but by the end of the third week they’ve all made their concerns clear. 

A subtle “Why don’t you sit this one out, pal? We’ve got it covered.” from Bruce. 

A less than subtle “You look like you could use another ice nap, Capiscle. The bags under your eyes have their own set of luggage.” from Tony. 

Steve shakes off their comments lightly, assuring everyone he’s fine. Really, he’s fine. Steve is starting to hear the edge in his own tone but pointedly ignores it. He just needs to keep busy until the searing ache in his chest dulls enough for him to get through a day without feeling like he’s falling apart. He hasn’t felt this off kilter since waking up seventy years in the future and realizing he’d missed his chance at a life with Peggy. But he had moved on from the pain of that loss, and Steve knows he can do it again. He has to.

The first clue comes a week later when Tony is doing his monthly deep scrub of the security systems. He finds the normal clutter of attempted hacks and people trying to poke around just for the hell of it. Most of it doesn’t get past the first ring of protection and is pathetically amateur. Those people don’t even warrant a second glance before he wipes the records. It’s the people who get a little further that Tony takes note of. It’s a rare occurrence, maybe three or four times a year, that someone actually gets past Tony’s first set of barriers and those are the people who get a nice little visit from SHIELD. Tony had actually hired his newest intern that way. A sweet kid from Queens who had gotten pretty damn far, three out five barriers, on his first try. Peter Parker had been trying to spy on their intel so he could clean up the crime in Queens on his own. Setting out like a tiny little vigilante in spandex. Tony did a little spying of his own and had been more than impressed with the kid’s skills. Taking him under his wing, Peter was currently training with the team a few days a week. Tony refused to let the kid out on missions until after he turned eighteen, but for now he was at least getting prepared for when that day came. 

The clue was more of a blip than a red flag, and Tony almost overlooked it, though he didn’t admit that to Steve when he was telling him the news. There was a small window of time, just barely twenty minutes, one night where the memory had been overwritten. It took Tony longer than he was willing to say to backtrack and restore the original record but once he did, his jaw dropped. Someone, identifiable only by a little black spider icon, had gone through the security feed and Jarvis’ surveillance inside the tower. Specifically tracking down Steve and his movements throughout the day. Tony’s first assumption was Hydra, but he’d seen how they worked before and it lacked this level of delicateness and finesse. The fact that nothing had come of it also led him to believe this wasn’t Hydra. 

“So do you think it was Bucky?” Steve asks once Tony has finished explaining what he’d found. 

Tony shakes his head, “No, not unless he’s a secret super hacker in his spare time. I think he was involved somehow though. Someone wanted to make sure they knew where you were while your boy toy made his grand exit. I tracked it as far as I could, but this little spider was good. Scary good. How much do you know about his friends? Anyone in security, or IT or something?”

Steve thinks for a minute, running through the conversations he’s had with Bucky about people in his life. It hits him over the head like a ton of bricks. “Natasha!” he practically shouts, “There’s a woman, Natasha Roma-something. They went to NYU together and she works in cyber security. She watches Becca while Bucky works overnights. He joked about her ‘spy skills’ once.” 

“That sounds like a good start. I’ll start there but if you think of anyone else let me know.” 

Three hours later Tony has a name, address, and a promise that he’s 99.99% sure Natasha Romanoff is their woman. 

Steve insists on going to visit Natasha alone, praying she doesn’t run the second she sees him. He promises Tony he can go another time to “talk shop”. Natasha isn’t home when Steve arrives so he tugs the visor of his baseball cap lower and pulls out a worn paperback from his jacket pocket. Two chapters later, he spots a redhead eyeing him suspiciously as she approaches the stoop. 

“Steven.” she says evenly once she’s a few steps away.

Steve recognizes it as tactical, she’s far enough away that she can still flee if he gives her any indication this isn’t a friendly visit. He stays seated, not wanting to scare her off unintentionally. “Natasha.” he replies. 

“I don’t know where he is, he hasn’t contacted me.” 

It’s impressive to Steve how well she lies. He’s never had that gift. “I don’t think that’s necessarily true.”  he says. Natasha’s lip quirks up, amused. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have had to spy on me while he was escaping.” he adds lightly.

Natasha’s lip curves into a full smirk at that. “I must be losing my touch.” 

Steve shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s necessarily true either.” 

Despite herself, Natasha actually chuckles at that. “Come on in, Steve. I’ll make tea.” 

Steve spends the rest of his afternoon in Natasha’s little loft apartment. It’s cozy and filled with bright colors and vibrant patterns. It’s so different than he would have expected and he kind of loves it. They talk about Bucky a lot, but also about Steve, and Natasha too. Natasha is more reticent about sharing her story but Steve has a feeling he got more than most people do. She very carefully skirts around the topic of who she works for and what exactly she does, as well as anything involving where Bucky is. 

All of her question dodging is frustrating and Steve’s patience finally snaps, “Look, I’m not going to go after him. I promise you, I’m not. Not until I know it’s safe for him to come back. I lo-” Steve clears his throat, unable to say the words aloud, “I care about him so damn much. I won’t risk his safety again. I’m going to take Hydra down for good this time, I know it. And once Hydra is gone, then I’d like to at least have the option of reaching out to him.” 

Natasha watches Steve quietly for a moment. He feels like a bug under a microscope as she looks for some unimaginable tell. After a few seconds she finally nods, coming to a conclusion. “Okay,” she says, “I believe you. But if you’re going to do this right, you’re going to need me.” 

“Need you?” Steve parrots back, confused.

“Oh yes, me. You need someone who can trace all of Hydra’s webs back to their source. Or sources, most likely. Find all of their locations and burn them to the ground. If we miss even one, there’s always going to be the chance for a resurgence. Let me help take them down and then we can talk about maybe you reaching out to Bucky.” 

Tony almost swallows his tongue the first time he sees Natasha go to work on his computers. As much as he hates to admit someone is better than him, he’s in awe of Natasha’s skills. They spend all hours of the day and night working, often passing out from lack of sleep right on the computer desk. Steve brings them coffee and sandwiches but he really can’t contribute much to the discussion as they throw ideas around. 

With Natasha’s help it only takes two weeks to track down every last Hydra base, safe house, lock box, and rendezvous point. Steve insists on looping in SHIELD after he and Natasha hammer out a strategy they can both agree upon. There’s too much exposure and a risk of missing Hydra members if they use only the Avengers. The strike needs to be tactical and synchronous. Thirty one locations and thirty one strike teams all attacking at the exact same time. No chance for locations to tip each other off or for people to run. 

Agent Coluson is more than willing to lend the support the Avengers need and offers up all the man power he has. With teams in place, Steve isn’t willing to wait another day to end the decades old war. At 2:23am, eastern standard time, all thirty one teams move in on their locations. By 2:35am, Hydra has officially fallen. 

It takes a few days for it to sink in that Hydra’s really gone. Steve worries incessantly that they missed something and it’s all going to be for nothing again. He’d rather spend another seventy years at the bottom of the ocean than risk bringing Bucky back to danger. SHIELD is kind enough to handle the processing of items and documents recovered from the raids, as well as incarcerating the few members who allowed themselves to be taken alive. Much to SHIELD’s embarrassment, the raids uncovered a few Hydra agents in their own ranks, but they were thankful to have the potential threats to their organization removed. 

Steve doesn’t approach Natasha for Bucky’s whereabouts. He’s still too nervous and tentatively hopeful to ask. He doesn’t think his heart will be able to handle it if she says no again. It helps that she’s going to be around more now so he’ll have opportunities when he’s ready. After a little cajoling by Tony, Natasha had agreed to work with the Avengers on a loose, as needed, basis. Basically whenever she feels like it, but Steve’s pretty sure she’ll come to help if called. In the end, Natasha is the one who seeks out Steve. She finds him sitting in the common room, watching an old western by himself in the dark, and hands him a slip of paper. 

Steve blinks blearily, caught off guard, and he tries to read the note in the dim, flickering TV light. It’s an address and a phone number printed in Natasha’s tiny neat penmanship. He knows what it is immediately but can’t figure out why she’s giving it to him now. 

“It’s time.” she says simply, reading the question on his face. “If you decide to go, let me know and I’ll help with your disguise.” 

Steve chafes a little at her offer, “What’s wrong with my normal disguise?”

“Steven, a baseball hat and a coat are not a disguise. If you’re going to him you’ll need to blend in. Even with those ridiculous shoulders of yours.” 

“Fine, fine.” he grumbles without any heat. Part of him wants to jump on his bike and drive straight there until he can hold Bucky in his arms again. The other part of him is still terrified of rejection and that maybe their mission wasn’t a success like everyone thinks. His mind is warring with itself until Natasha flicks his ear, breaking him out of his thoughts to glare at her. 

“Stop over thinking.” she commands. “We’ll go in the morning. Together. I’ve been apart from my malyshka for long enough.” 

Steve looks at Natasha, gratitude pouring from his eyes while his mouth can’t find the words to thank her enough. She knows without him having to say a word. Patting him gently on the knee, Natasha gets up and silently exits the room leaving Steve to solitude once again.

xxXxx

Bucky

“Come on, bug, please.” Bucky begs, trying to coax Becca away from the glass walled cage of guinea pigs. 

“But daddy, look at that one! She’s perfect! I could name her Angelina and she could live in my room.” Becca pleads pointing to a white, black, and tan colored pig in the back. 

Bucky hesitates, almost willing to cave in, before finding his resolve again. “No, not right now. I’m not saying no forever, but let’s go home and do some research first. We want to make sure we can give her a good home before buying her, right?” 

Becca looks up at him skeptically before admitting defeat. Her tiny shoulders slump but she nods. “Okay, we can do the research first.” Becca turns back to the cage, wiggling her finger at the tiny animal. “Bye Angelina. I’ll be back for you soon.” 

Bucky herds Becca away from the cage and towards the check out. All they’d needed was a new filter for the fish tank Bucky had set up in the kitchen a few weeks back. It was hard to believe they’d had Elsa and Anna for a month now. Becca had won the pair of fish at the fall festival they went to their second week in town. Both Barnes’ had adapted to life in Cape Elizabeth quickly, loving the slower paced small town life. Bucky missed the city at times, the hustle and bustle, the nearness to everything, but mostly his friends. And Steve. He tried not to think about Steve as much as he could, but in the quiet moments his memories consumed him. 

Back in their apartment, which now feels like home more than their apartment in Brooklyn ever had, Bucky replaces the fish tank filter and starts the oven preheating so he can get dinner cooking while he grabs a shower. He’s still in his scrubs, having picked Becca up after his shift at the urgent care center, and though it was a relatively easy day, he still wants his habitual post-shift shower so he can feel a little more human again.

Bucky pokes his head into Becca’s room and finds her already in her pajamas, sprawled out on the floor, coloring. He leaves her be, not wanting to disturb her, and heads towards his room. Bucky just gets his shirt over his head when the doorbell rings. He was so close to hot water and soap. Pulling his shirt back on with a groan, Bucky heads to the front door trying to keep a scowl off of his face. It’s probably just Anne with some new baked good, or maybe even Chris from work dropping something off he forgot there. Bucky throws the door open before looking out the window and regrets it when two strangers stand in front of him. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, his tone guarded. In a span of a heartbeat Bucky goes through the list of places he’s hidden knives and pepper spray. While he trusts Natasha’s skills, he never wants to risk not being able to defend himself and Becca. In the next heartbeat he recognizes the breadth of the man’s shoulders and the sharp glint of the woman’s eyes. “Oh my god.” he gasps, his knees buckling under him in shock. 

Steve lunges forward, super soldier reflexes coming to the rescue, and he catches Bucky before the smaller man hits the ground. 

Embarrassed, Bucky rights himself with assistance from Steve. He’s trembling, terrified what it means if they’re both there on his doorstep. “Come in then, I guess.” he says, shakily waving a hand towards the living room. 

Bucky can’t help but stare at Natasha and Steve as they take their seats on the sofa. Natasha’s bright red hair is a muted brown, thick rimmed glasses frame her eyes, and she’s wearing heels that add four inches to her petite stature. Steve’s hair is colored black and spiked up in a way that makes Bucky want to laugh. The shapeless green army style jacket and brown contacts in his eyes make him almost unrecognizable. 

Natasha, fearless as ever, is the first to speak. “Sorry for dropping in on you like this.” 

“Why are you-” Bucky is cut off by a shriek and then a flurry of yellow pajamas as Becca comes flying into the room, throwing herself at Natasha. The little girl would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Auntie Nat!!!” she yells as she clings to Natasha for dear life. She’s crying, tears streaming down her pink cheeks, mumbling into her auntie’s shoulder, too quiet to understand. 

“I know, malyshka,” Natasha croons, “I missed you too.” 

Bucky feels tears of his own prickling the corners of his eyes. 

Becca starts peppering Natasha with questions, still not recognizing Steve much to the former blonde’s amusement. Natasha gently cuts off the little girl’s questions. “Okay, kiddo. I need to talk to Bucky for a few minutes. Adult talk. Can you go play for a bit and when we’re done I’ll come hang out with you for as long as you want?” 

Becca nods, giving Natasha another hug before heading down the hall without complaint. 

Bucky shakes his head, “You know she’s never going to let you go now that you said that.” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Natasha grins. 

“So,” Bucky starts the dreaded conversation again, “Why are you here? Do we need to leave? Did something happen?” 

 Natasha glances over at Steve and begins when it’s clear he’s not ready to speak. “Well, we have some news. Good news, actually.” Natasha looks at Steve one last time, wanting to give him the chance to share the news but he remains silent. “Hydra is gone, permanently this time. We’re certain, I’m certain. I kind of teamed up with Steve and the guys to make sure of it. You’re safe to come home now.” 

Bucky’s heart clenches at the word ‘home’. He is home. Trying to parse through the information Bucky gets stuck on, “Wait, you kind of teamed up with Steve? And the guys? What are you, an Avenger now?” 

“I wouldn’t put a label on it. But I’m there to help them when I have time.” 

Bucky huffs a laugh at the surrealness of it. He’d always thought Natasha was practically a superhero and now, here she is really being one. “Do you have a superhero name and everything?” He’s going to enjoy lording this over her head, whatever it is. 

“Nope.” Natasha says at the same time Steve says “Black Widow.” 

Bucky’s eyes bug out comically at both the name and the fact that Steve finally spoke. The rich timber of his voice rolls across the room to Bucky making him feel weak-kneed all over again. “Steve… I…” Bucky looks at Steve helplessly. He doesn’t know how to start with so many conflicting emotions whirling around inside. 

Natasha watches the pair of men watch each other and decides it’s time for her exit. “I’m going to hang out with Becs. You two have a lot of catching up to do.” She pops up from the sofa and heads off leaving the two men to stare at each other in silence. 

As much as it pains him, Steve finally speaks up. “If you don’t want me here I can go. I shouldn’t have just shown up like this, I’m sorry. I just… I thought… well, I’m not sure what I thought anymore.” He looks so lost and earnest it breaks Bucky’s heart a little more. 

“Wine.” Bucky blurts out awkwardly. “I have wine. Let’s get some and we can go sit out on the porch and talk.” 

“Okay, Buck. Whatever you want.” 

Steve follows Bucky to the kitchen quietly. He waits as Bucky pours two mugs full of a dark red wine and hands him one of the mugs. He follows quietly again when Bucky leads him out to the porch and takes a seat on one of the adirondack chairs. Steve takes the chair next to Bucky, surprised by how comfortable the seat is. “This is nice.” he says, not specifying if he’s commenting on the wine, the chair, or the crisp, clear, autumn evening. 

Bucky hums his agreement. “It is.” A soft silence falls on them again, but Bucky doesn’t let it linger this time. “So Hydra’s really gone?”

Steve nods immediately, finding his footing a little. “Yeah, for sure this time. You should have seen Natasha and Tony. They were amazing tracking everyone down. We even got SHIELD to lend us their forces to ensure our plan worked.” 

“That had to feel really good after all these years.” 

“Yeah, it did.” 

“So, what’s the plan now? What will you do now that Hydra’s out of the picture?”

Steve thinks a moment before finally shrugging his ridiculously wide shoulders, “I really don’t know. Tony was making some jokes about me finally retiring but I don’t know what I’d do with my time if I wasn’t working.”

Bucky reaches over and places his hand on top of Steve’s where it rests on the arm of his chair. The movement is so natural and easy that he’s squeezing Steve’s hand comfortingly before he even realizes what he’s doing. “You’ll find something,” Bucky assures him. “Maybe you could volunteer. There’s veterans centers, and animal shelters, and old folks homes that could all use an extra set of capable hands. You’ll figure it out.” 

Steve chuckles at the thought, “Yeah, maybe I’ll go volunteer at a retirement home. It would be nice to swap stories with people my own age about the good old days.” 

Bucky huffs a laugh and shoves lightly at Steve’s arm. “I forget that you’re really a senior citizen under all that muscle.”

“Only chronologically. Physically, I’m still twenty-seven.” 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see the date on your driver's license, pal.” Bucky teases. 

Steve laughs in earnest then, leaning a little closer to Bucky and the moment turns soft, intimate, as their laughter dies off. 

There’s so many things Bucky wants to tell Steve, so many different ways the conversation could go. But he finally decides on, “Steve, I need you to understand that as much as I want to be with you, I don’t want to go back to New York. Becca and I created a life in this town and there is so much opportunity for her to have a happy, normal, childhood here. I can provide better for her here than I ever could in the city.” 

“She comes first.” Steve says simply.

“She does, always. I loved New York for a long time but I think I forgot how different life could be outside the city. I have a job here that I love, it’s less stress and more money and I work normal hours for once in my life. Our expenses are like half of what they were in Brooklyn, which is still unreal. And Becca loves her new school and her friends. It’s not setting her up for Ivy League or anything but they have advanced classes she can take when she gets a little older. She’s happy here, we’re happy here. Hell, we have a yard, Steve. A real yard where she can run and play and just be a normal kid. This is the life I wanted for her.” 

“I’m not asking you to give all that up, Buck.” Steve is quick to assure him, “I’m just asking if maybe you’d consider giving us another chance. I know we were only together for a few months but I… I fell in love with you. And I don’t expect you to feel the same way, I’m not trying to force you into something you’re not interested in, but if you’d be willing, I’d really like to give us another try.” 

Bucky’s heart swells at the declaration. It was fast, but he’d fallen just as quickly and deeply as Steve. He doesn’t know how they’ll work out the distance, but in the spirit of putting their cards on the table, Bucky admits, “I fell in love with you too. Leaving was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I had to protect Becca. I’m so sorry I ran. Again. It’s going to be one hell of a commute, but I’m willing to give us another try.”  

Steve’s hands are trembling as he’s overwhelmed by emotion. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be too far. I’m sure there are things for a retired centenarian to do around here. If you’re serious about trying, I’ll go back to New York and hand in my resignation tomorrow. I could be back and ready to house hunt by the weekend. Just… promise me you won’t run again. Please. If things don't work out then it’ll suck, but okay. Just, don’t run before giving us a chance to talk it out.” 

Pain blossoms in Bucky’s chest at Steve’s plea. He knew he’d hurt Steve twice now by running instead of talking. After this last time, Bucky knew he’d learned his lesson. “The only place I’ll be running from now on is back to you.” Hope and love shine brightly in Bucky’s eyes as he leans forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. The kiss is a gentle, a promise for a future together. They’re unhurried, losing themselves in the moment as their bodies fall back into sync like no time has passed at all.  After a little while the air is too chilly to stay outside and they head in to find Natasha and Becca coloring together as dinner cools on the stove top. 

“I took it out when it beeped.” Natasha says pointing at the stove, “It smells amazing, I hope you don’t mind sharing.” 

“Not at all.” Bucky grins, “We’d love for you guys to stay for dinner. And if you don’t have to be back right away, you’re welcome to crash here for the night too.” 

A faint blush spreads across Steve’s cheeks at the idea of spending the night, hopefully in Bucky’s bed. He returns Bucky’s grin readily. “No place I’d rather be.” 

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #445

Top Ten Films to See in Cinemas 2020

The cinemas are open! Hurray!

We remain in the grip of a deadly global pandemic and infection counts are rising! Boo!

I love going to the pictures. It’s one of the few things I genuinely want to leave the house for. I’m not sure why; there’s something magical about the whole experience. Traveling to a different building, purchasing tickets, seeing the adverts up in the foyer, walking down snaking corridors, the darkness, the spots of light, the flicker of the projector, the size of the screen, the feel of the sound as it reverberates around the auditorium, the sense of all of time and space slowing down to this one point, this singularity, as you are consumed in the film before you, the only thing you can see and hear, this one enormous moving image before your eyes. Every once in a while even a committed isolationist misanthrope such as myself can also be swept away by the sense of community, of shared experience. Like when the t-rex roared, when the White House was destroyed, when the Death Star exploded, when Cap lifted Mjolnir.

When Cap lifted Mjolnir.

Anyway, I’ve not been able to go to the cinema for months, obviously. And even when they did start opening I felt it was probably too early. But as time has gone on, I’m starting to hope it can be done safely: masks on, socially distanced auditorium, cashless purchasing… is it a daft risk to see a film when there are loads on Netflix? I don’t know. Part of me thinks so, but part of me thinks as long as cautions are maintained then it would be fine… and I definitely don’t want cinemas to go under; I want to try to support the industry and the people who work there.

And I just wanna see some films.

So I was hoping that by now I’d actually have gone to see Tenet. That’s the biggie, obviously; the first really huge film to hit the cinema since lockdown. Others have scarpered, whether to “premium VOD” (Trolls World Tour), straight to streaming (The Lovebirds), or some bastardised combination of the two (Mulan). And then there’s the ones who’ve shuffled down the calendar, from Spring to Summer to Autumn to Winter, attempting to outrun the virus like it’s the fire spewing through the tunnel in Independence Day. In fact, as I’m writing, it’s just been announced that Wonder Woman 1984 has had its date pushed back even further, to Christmas, which may end up having a knock-on effect of delaying Dune till 2021.

Anyway, I’m going to pretend to be optimistic now, even in the face of what appears to be a long-predicted resurgence of the virus. Let’s say it is, more or less, safe to go back to the cinema. Despite the emptying release schedule, there are still quite a few films going theatrical. And so – in approximate release order – here are the Top Ten Films that I hope I might actually be able to get to see inside a multiplex this two thousand and twenty. Full disclosure: I genuinely don’t think I’ll see ten films before the end of the year. Things being what they usually are, I doubt I’d have managed to see ten films anyway unfortunately, as I don’t manage to go even once a fortnight nowadays (“nowadays” being relative obviously). But here you go; best case scenario.

Well, “best case” under current circumstances, natch.

Tenet (out now!): I’ll almost certainly be seeing this one at least; Nolan makes films that are designed for the big screen, and with its twisty plot and timey-wimey subject matter, I want to see it before it’s spoiled by the internet.

Bill and Ted Face the Music (16th September): I adored the Bill and Ted films when I was a kid, and everybody loves Keanu (although my favourite was always Bill!). I really want to see their triumphant return, which I’m sure will be a feel-good joy-fest.

Wonder Woman 1984 (2nd October): I’m sticking with its old date for now as I’m not certain it’s moved in the UK, but regardless, I hope I can see this. Although I wasn’t wowed by the trailers, the first film was incredible, and I have faith this will be just as great.

Candyman (16th October): the original Candyman was amazing, a truly terrifying horror icon as well as a dark fable about prejudice. With Jordan Peele producing (and rising star Nia DaCosta directing) it has a great pedigree. I don’t get to see many horror films nowadays but I’m looking forward to this.

Black Widow (6th November): I don’t think I’ve missed a single Marvel movie at the cinema, so there’s no way I’m missing this: finally a solo outing for Avengers stalwart Natasha. Will it answer the question of who lives to be Black Widow going forward?

No Time to Die (12th November): I’m not the world’s biggest Bond fan but I do want to see how Daniel Craig ends his tenure. Plus the trailers have been fantastic, especially the sheer badassery of Lashana Lynch and the cocktail dress kung fu of Ana de Armas.

Soul (20th November): I’ve been very reluctant to take my kids back to the cinema, but hope-against-hopefully by November we might all feel sufficiently confident to see the new Pixar, especially as it’s a suitably trippy premise from legendary director Pete Docter.

Dune (18th December): Villeneuve is a true visionary director, an emerging all-time great, so I’m always excited for his next film; he fills vistas with dark cinematic imagery. The recent trailer knocked it out of the park and I cannot wait to see his take on the classic novel.

Coming 2 America (18th December): maybe this is the least-likely to be seen, but as a big Eddie Murphy fan, and a huge fan of the original from way back when, I’m intensely curious as to what this will be like. I just hope it’s funny.

West Side Story (18th December): there’s no way I won’t go see this (he says, there’ll probably be an asteroid strike or something). I’ve not missed a Spielberg since Saving Private Ryan (and apart from Amistad, can go back as far Hook). He’s my favourite director. Plus I like musicals and I really want to see what he does with this.

So there we go: films to see at the flicks. I hope I see a couple of these, I really do. And then not catch COVID! That’d be nice.

[flyingthehedge]

Working with the Land: 5 Ways to Practice Local Witchcraft

In witchcraft, there is no one book that contains all of our knowledge of the practice. Instead, we rely on dozens, if not hundreds, of books to learn our Craft and our place in it. We buy books on a range of witchy and occult topics, filling bookshelf after bookshelf with our collection in hopes that we can learn everything we can. I love reading books on witchcraft and the occult. I love to learn about other people's experiences and the knowledge they have accumulated through years of study and practice. Unfortunately, much of witchcraft is based on practices handed down by witches of European descent. Just about every single book on witchcraft rehashes the same old information, from the Celtic Wheel of the Year to the elements and cardinal directions. Almost all of these practices come from Europe, specifically England, Ireland, and Scotland, with some Norse thrown in there if they talk about runes. Sometimes you will see a bit of Hindu and Native American traditions thrown into the mix, but otherwise, it's largely English (unless you read specifically about a different tradition) There is nothing wrong with this; modern witchcraft and Wicca are based on English and Irish traditions, so it makes sense that most books pull from the same sources that began this resurgence of witchcraft around the world in the first place. However, the longer I have practiced, the more I have come to realize that "traditional" European witchcraft isn't always possible, especially for those that do not live in England!

What do you mean, "it isn't possible?" Every book on my shelf makes references to trees and herbs and even some wildlife that are mostly found in England or in northern North America. If you have been keeping up with me, you know I do not live in England, and I most certainly do not live up North, as much as I may want to. I am stuck in Georgia, a very southern state with hair-raisingly high humidity, melt-your-skin-off summers, and depressingly, rainy winters. I live in the northern part of Georgia, where we have mountains and forests, but just a little south of me the entire terrane changes. Needless to say, I don't have access to rowan or birch trees, hedgerows full of healing herbs and sweet fruits, fresh maple syrup, or even snow (although occasionally we are graced with its presence). Instead, I have pine trees and live oaks, poison ivy, Spanish moss, fire ants, and muscadines. Very different plants grow down here and a lot of those "witchy" plants books always talk about won't survive the summers here, so even if I wanted to grow them in my garden, they wouldn't make it. This is why learning to practice local witchcraft is so important, but where is a witch to begin?

Local witchcraft refers to working with the plants, animals, crystals, and spirits of the land where you live. Witchcraft, especially traditional witchcraft, which is historical, cultural, and folkloric in nature, is highly based on animism. Animism is the belief that all things, living and nonliving, have a spirit and thus vibrate with its own energy. This practice can easily be applied to any witch, no matter their location. Here are some ways you can introduce local witchcraft into your magical workings.

1. Get outside.

This is first and foremost the most important part of local witchcraft. Sit in a local park, go for a hike, or even sit in your front yard. Spend some time relaxing and observing the world around you. Take note of anything or everything you see. Attempt to feel the personality and atmosphere of the place. This in and of itself is a very magical experience. If you want to, write some of these observations down so you can research them later to see their significance or how you can use certain living and nonliving things from your local environment in your spell work. The notes you take while you are just observing will help you later and can get you started on new pages in your Grimoire or Book of Shadows!

2. Adjust your liturgy to your location.

Used a big word there! Liturgy is the form or formula you use during a religious or spiritual act. What I mean to say is, when you set up your altar, cast your circle, or create your magical associations for the elements, use the land around you to help. Many people rely on traditional references to create their altar or pentacle, but it doesn't make sense to place Water to the West if there is a large lake or ocean to your East. Use your locale to determine the placement of the elements. My personal associations are to have Earth associated with North because there are mountains just North of me; Water is East because a lake and the Atlantic Ocean are to my East; Fire is South because the equator is South where the temperatures are much hotter than here; and finally Air is West because the vast, windy plains are to my West. For those of you in the Southern hemisphere, you may wish to place Fire North, as the equator is North of you. If there is a mountain range directly to your East, put Earth East. Using the land to determine your placement of the elements will enhance your craft and make it more relatable to you. Rearranging my associations has completely changed my magic for the better.

3. Learn local folklore and visit local sacred spaces.

No matter where you are if you do enough digging and ask the right questions, you can find some amazing folktales. Hedgecraft is largely folkloric in nature, so using local legends and stories in your craft is important. The stories they tell in Britain about the dandelion are great, and you can definitely use those tales in your magical workings, especially if you are of English descent. I am, so I use it because I connect with it, but my family is has a tale of its own about dandelions from Arkansas, where my dad was born, and I like to use it too. Go down to your local library and see what you can find. Talk to locals who have lived in your area all their lives, especially elderly people. They may not even realize the stories they have passed down are magical folktales, but you will. Go and visit local historical sites, which are usually sacred. For example, I live close to the Kennesaw Mountain Battle Field, which was the location of a pretty large battle during the Civil War. In Atlanta, Macon, and Savannah there are three large, famous graveyards that hold some pretty powerful magic if I do say so myself. On the other side of the lake is a beautiful state park. These places have their own stories and items I can use in my practice. For example, I can pick up grave dirt in Savannah, with permission and an offering of course, or holy water from the Chattahoochee River in Helen that comes straight from the mountains. Find the sacred places in your area and see what they have to offer. Remember to offer a biodegradable offering and only take a little bit so you don't disturb the local ecosystem.

4. Identify seasonal changes and major natural forces of nature.

Some of the practices commonly mentioned in regards to celebrating the Celtic Wheel of the Year don't always make sense to me here in Georgia. In February, we don't have a bunch of snow and if it is a warmer year, plants started budding and coming up by now. It's not often a dormant time here in Georgia. By Mabon, most crops have been tilled, meaning its really not a harvesting time. Most of the traditional foods for Mabon are no longer in season. Some of the moon names also don't always fit either. June, for example, is the strawberry moon, but the peak for strawberries in Georgia is April. Strawberries are done by June! Spend time learning your local seasons and how you can adapt your changes to fit in with the Wheel of the Year. What changes do you see throughout the year? When do the flowers bloom? When are different fruits and vegetables harvested? Which insects are active

at which times? I eat summer squash and blackberries during Litha, instead of Lammas or Mabon. During Ostara, we may have strawberries. Don't just focus on the seasons though. Are there certain storms or wildfires that are common in your area? How can you use them in your craft?

5. Create a genius loci profile.

Genius loci means "spirit of place." As a hedgewitch, it is part of my job to learn about the local spirits, whether they are the spirits of the Otherworld or the spirits that reside in local plants, animals, crystals, and other nonliving objects. Its all well and good to order herbs and crystals offline or to buy them in a shop down the street or using images of animals in foreign countries in your spellwork. However, using local herbs, crystals, and animals often enhances your magic because the land, and therefore local spirits, are more familiar with those creatures. Learn about the species in your area, both plant and animal. Research endangered and invasive species. How can you preserve those endangered species? What can you do to stop invasive species? If it's an invasive plant, learn its properties and pull it up! Incorporate it into your magical workings and save the local ecosystem at the same time. Research local animals and learn about myths and magical associations. Study the local plants and learn their magical and medicinal properties, scientific names, as well as those that are edible. Wildcrafting is such a joy! When you are doing this, remember to keep a detailed record in your Grimoire or Book of Shadows as a reference.

If you practice witchcraft and are looking to increase your understanding and enhance your practice, I strongly suggest you learn about where you live. When you use the land around you in your personal practice, it makes everything more relatable to you and the spirits around you, thus making everything magical.

Do you use your location in your magical practice? Let me know in the comments below!

Looking to learn more? Here are some suggestions on where to get started.

How to Create A Genius Loci Profile by Sarah Anne Lawless

Working with Spirits: Making Friends with the Genius Loci by Lady Athena

Spirits of Land and Place by ThoughtCo

[i-dont-even-know-anymore921]

Outsiders Reclist

This is an Outsiders Fanfiction Reclist- This will be a constant work in progress(I’ll be adding to it whenever I find something I think is worth reading or if I get sent something from someone who wants something added) It will be organized by the main character but keep in mind the fact that just because a fic is under one character doesn’t mean it won’t have a very strong influence from another- I hope you enjoy:))

All of these are currently on Fanfiction.Net but I do plan on adding fics from here on tumblr in the future, i just have to go through and find them 

*ALSO- If I don’t specifically state that a fic is unfinished, assume that it’s done*

PONYBOY

The Origin of Asthma - “After a small incident while on a family trip to the lake, a young Ponyboy gets diagnosed with asthma.” K -  Words: 2,120 -

In the Depth - “In his school essay, Ponyboy reflects on his soul and the dark depths where it resides.”  T - Words: 1,234 -

Home For Thanksgiving - “It’s 1969. Michelle Randle has been away studying at NYU but has come home to Tulsa for a big family Thanksgiving. It’s 1969. Ponyboy Curtis has been away studying at Columbia University but has come home to Tulsa for a big family Thanksgiving. Both of them are hoping for a nice, calm, happy Thanksgiving - especially as it’s their first one together as a couple.” T - Words: 1,934 - 

Prom Nights - “Ponyboy and Angela both being dateless on prom night sets off very interesting conversations, and more” T - Words: 3,152 -

Sneaking In - “Pony takes a risk when he helps his brothers sneak back in.” T - Words: 2,631 -

The Bear and His Boy - “It is a truth universally acknowledged among children that there is no truer friend than one’s childhood doll or bear and after all even greaser’s were children once.” K - Words: 1,542 -

the clouds will drift away - “She’s barely on the edge of 14 and the world already feels like it’s ending.“ K - OC - Words: 2,649 -

Dumb Drunk - “Ponyboy comes back home drunk and the gang decides to find out what he’s been hiding from them.” K+ - Words: 2,050 - 

Snakes - “Young Pony never intended on becoming a writer” K - Words: 4,081 -

Eye of the Storm - “When Ponyboy was a baby, he was taken away and adopted by another family. Years later, he meets his brothers again. One-Shot. Ponyboy is aged down at the beginning.” K - Words: 6,365 - 

strawberry lips - “his first kiss left him with the taste of strawberry on his tongue.” K+ - Words: 473 -

Multi-chapter

Ten Years Later - “Just my take on what things might be like ten years after the setting of the book.” T  - Chapters: 19 - Words: 87,146 - 

Maybe Someday - “For Ponyboy, it was only the story of his luckless romance. But in reality, it was so much more than that. Ponyboy’s problems are far from over as he continues to grow up on the rough side of Tulsa, and life gets more complicated by the day.” T - Chapters: 30 - Words: 86,720 -

Esoterically Yours - “Ponyboy Curtis meets an acquaintance he has been trying to dodge for years”  T - Supernatural - Chapters: 21 - Words: 52,860 -

On a Long Road - “Sometimes, I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d never written that stupid theme. If I’d been allowed to stay with my brothers. If I hadn’t been forced to move from home to home.” T-  - Chapters: 30 - Words: 133,229 - *ABUSE* 

Out of the Blue - “After constant attempts by Mr. Syme at coaxing Ponyboy into sending his theme off to a publisher, he finally does it.”  K+ - Chapters: 8 - Words: 19,292 -

*Series*

Splintered Ties That Bind -  “One letter sent the family in different directions, each seeking the peace that comes only from being together. Time takes its toll, and love is bound by nothing” T - Chapters: 62 - Words: 118,974 -

Braided Ties - “Continuation of Splintered Ties That Bind, the brothers have found each other, and their lives move forward…Will things ever be the same?”  T - Chapters: 21 - Words: 52,860 -

~

Summer Adventures - “The school year is over, and the lazy days of summer begin. Adventures -good and bad- loom on the horizon.” - T Chapters: 47 - Words: 166,736 -

Autumn Leaves - “Crisp air, falling temperatures - the summer is over. The Curtis brothers face a new set of challenges, and each will be forced to confront a pain they haven’t felt in nearly two years” - T - Chapters: 42 - Words: 127,663 -

Winter’s Soliloquy - “A new season, a new story. Ponyboy’s adventures in growing up with only his brothers and the gang to guide him continue.” T- Chapters: 23 - Words: 57,901 -

Spring’s Resurgence - ”Letting go of the past is hard enough, especially when the future is filled with uncertainties. Spring is calling; new life, new chances, new possibilities. A new adventure beckons them all.” T - Chapters: 34 - Words: 99,873 -

~

Wealth Versus Class - “We were studying The Great Gatsby at the time and yeah, I got that the book was saying Jay Gatsby could never be a part of the elite no matter how rich he became- but I had been looking at my own life- at real life- at girls like Cherry Valance and guys like Randy Anderson- and thinking the only thing that made us really any different was money.” K - Words: 1,739-

The Quarter - “’“I’m sorry I bothered you,” I called after him. “Must be a real pain having the vending machine right out here. People shaking it at all hours?” He stopped and looked back at me almost curiously. “Well, I don’t mind when they’re as cute as you.” I don’t know who blushed more deeply but I’d probably bet on him.‘” K- Words: 1,581 -

The Other Version - “"This wasn’t the gentle giant that carried spiders to safety when I threw my shoes at them. This person was steady and determined; ready to hit another person in the face for the sake of a few dollars.“ After an attempted mugging, Lizzy isn’t sure she knows Ponyboy as well as she thought.”  K+ - Words: 1,999 -

~

Love Me Tender, Love Me True - “Lily Smith isn’t your typical Greaser girl. She wears decent clothes and doesn’t drink or smoke. Lily has skipped a grade in school and now she is all alone. That is until she meets Ponyboy Curtis and the gang. She and him fall for each other. The road to happiness is a bumpy one, but is always worth it in the end. Part One of "Love Me Tender” series.” T- OC - Chapters: 35 - Words: 135,241 -

All My Dreams Fulfilled - “Part Two of the “Love Me Tender” series.” T - OC - Chapters: 20 - Words: 118,700 - *NOT FINISHED*

SODAPOP

Due Diligence - “Trigonometry. Already the bane of Sodapop’s existence.” K+ - Words: 1,757 -

Dividing Lines - “Now that Sodapop’s reached high school, he’s suddenly aware of Darry’s godlike status and isn’t quite sure of where he stands.” T - Words: 4,911 -

I Don’t Understand - “The one time Sodapop doesn’t get it. The one time he doesn’t understand what pain his younger brother is bearing.”  T - Words: 2,117 -

Telling Soda - “Jo Curtis has some important news to tell little Sodapop Curtis. One-Shot.” T- Words: 2,660 -

Multi-Chapter

Windward Circle - “This is the story of Dallas Winston’s little sister, Brooklyn. When Dally dies, her world falls apart. That is, until Sodapop Curtis swoops in and forces her to see that there is still good in the world.” T- Chapters: 29 - Words: 46,506 -

Lightnin’ Strikes - “‘That was Joanne. Met her at work today.’ Seems like a sensible place to start. Tie in to, and overlapping with, 'Our One Rule’ and 'Love Me Two Times’, but don’t tell Soda and Jo. As far as they’re concerned, this was always their own story…” T  - Chapters: 32 - Words: 109,002 -

STEVE

20 Reasons - “20 reasons why Steve Randle severely dislikes – or so he likes to think – Ponyboy Curtis” T - Words: 1,354 -

Lighter Fluid - “Twenty facts about Steve Randle, in no particular order.” T - Words: 2,313 -

Stay with me (Just a little longer) - “He can’t stay. He knows that. He knows the longer he stays, the more it will hurt… but then, why is it so hard to go?” T - Words: 1,689 -

Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair - “Evie wasn’t the only woman in Steve Randle’s life. It’s just that this particular one sort of haunts him.” K+ - Words: 3,073 - 

STEVE/EVIE

Apple Blossom - “You get it, he’s good looking. But he knows it, and you can’t stand that.” T - Words: 7,089 -

Bite Me - “Evie has a little explaining to do for the strange mark on her neck.” T - Words: 1,244 -

Can’t - “And for some reason I can’t keep my mind off him, and I don’t mind that at all.” T - Words: 980 -

Never Again 

Emotions - “Evie Sanders’ eyes were planted on Steve Randle, and his eyes were, unfortunately, planted on a car.” T - Words: 1,249 -

Next Contestant - “Everyone knows Buck’s can get wild and crazy, but what they don’t know is that the very people they are befriending and talking to are willing to take advantage of them at any moment.” T - Words: 1,428 -

Only One - “All the girls fell for Sodapop Curtis. All except one.” K+ - Words: 836 -

Single Girl - “She only ever had eyes for Steve.” T -  Words: 3,687 -

Turn This Engine On - “Steve is working late by himself at the DX, and Evie stops by for some extracurriculars.” T - Words: 2,224 -

Multi-chapter

Fatherhood - “Steve experinces the joys of being a dad and pounders the moments that led up to it.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,325 - *NOT FINISHED*

let’s pause this moment in time - “and I just wanted to say thanks, you’re the only reason I’ve smiled in days. :: a series of stevie drabbles.” T - Chapters: 6 - Words: 1,469 -

*Series*

The Only Kind - “'I knew that look. That look had been pulling me into trouble since kindergarten… ’ When Sandy gets Evie a date with Steve Randle, things begin to get complicated. Because Sandy and Sylvia have a hidden agenda and Evie’s getting caught up in the lies, at the same time as she’s falling for the guy she thought she disliked. Set in the months leading up to the book.” T - Chapters: 24 - Words: 73,218 -

Our Kind - “'Maybe Sylvia was right. Whatever I thought about her motives. Whatever I thought about her actual relationships. She did get the guy she wanted when she wanted him.’ Sandy’s gone, their lives are about to be turned upside down. Whose advice will Evie take and how far will she go, to get Steve back? Sequel to 'The Only Kind’.” T - Chapters: 24 - Words: 86,927 -

Our One Rule - “Evie and Steve are back together and everything is great. Until it isn’t. Because revenge is a way of life on the North Side and Evie is about to find out exactly how that works. Third story in series, following 'The Only Kind’ and 'Our Kind’.” T - Chapters: 26 -Words: 95,907 -

Love Me Two Times - “'He didn’t say it often, but when Steve Randle told me he loved me, I believed him. Of course, when he said that 'nothing in this world’ would keep us apart, I believed that too…’ Fourth story in series, following 'The Only Kind’, 'Our Kind’ and 'Our One Rule’.” T - Chapters: 30 - Words: 96,521 -

DARRY

ETOH - “Darry learns what happens to Ponyboy when left to his own vices.” T - Words: 2,854 -

He’s Wrong - “As she prepares for her senior prom, Audrey Holden is forced to face just how much people - and their opinions - can change in just a year.” K+ - Words: 2,692 -

Vivere Pro Aliis - “’You see me every day. We share a room. I spend more time with you than anyone else on the planet. And right now, I’m going to a movie with my friends, and you ain’t comin’.’” K+ - Words: 3,496 -

Slippery - “Wet floors can be a handful and rather surprising. You’ll never know where you slip. Darry/TwoBit” T  - Words: 1,667 - 

First String - “Darry knows making the football team could change his life.” T - Words: 2,985 - 

Multi-chapter

Sticky Leaves - “Darry has lost his parents. Diana has lost her boyfriend. Maybe, in the end, they’ll both find something they can hold on to.” T - Chapters: 32 - Words: 124,496 - 

DALLY

Beneath the Surface - “There’s more to their relationship than jail and cheating. No one else knows it, and half the time they don’t know it themselves. A collection of real moments in Dallas and Sylvia’s relationship.” T - Words: 3,853 -

*Series*

Arrogance and Aggression - “Arrogance and Aggression’ is a frothy Jane Austen-esque AU about love and friendship among the greasers (and their sisters). Dallas Winston is aggressive. Lucy Bennet is arrogant. Though she vows to hate him for the rest of her life, she begrudgingly realizes she may be wrong about him and about herself.” T - Chapters: 15 - Words: 63,651 -

Impatience and Impulsivity - “Lucy Bennet is impatient. Dallas Winston is impulsive. Somehow, they are still surprised when these traits eventually catch up to them and bite them in their backs.” T - Chapters: 12 - Words: 92,530 -

See My Friends - “The year 1968 was signalized by a single piece of mail, a terrible and senseless request, which undoubtedly, no one would ever forget.” T - Chapters: 8 - Words: 79,766 - *NOT FINISHED*

JOHNNY

The Date - “Johnny had just realized that Hanna Matthews is not a little child any longer” T - Words: 1,602 -

Late Hormones - “After finding a place to stay for the night, Johnny discovers an unusual change in his body which Dally helps him relieve.” M - Words: 2,564 -

Multi-Chapter

The adventures of Jonathan Cade and Dallas Winston - “What if after the murder Johnny went on the run alone, not taking Ponyboy with him. What if instead of Windrixville Dally told him to run to New York. Perfect for all you Johnny and Dally fans as well as everyone else.” K - Chapters: 11 - Words: 29,770 - 

TWO-BIT

Crescent Moons - “Or, how Two-Bit Mathews got it in his head that seeing his daughter kissing his buddy’s son in the Sunday school classroom on Easter was the worst possible thing that could happen. Also, said daughter may or may not have an obsession with whether or not she’s named after the Virgin Mary. In short, the Easter of 1989 was one of the family’s weirder ones.” T - Words: 8,774 -

The Society Pages - “The society pages the next day spoke almost exclusively of how Two-Bit Mathews had been seen gallivanting around town with the newly crowned prom queen. Everyone agreed that Miss Stevens looked dazzling in her pink formal, and could pull off a tiara. And no, we still don’t know who slashed Steve Randle’s tires.“ T - Words: 7,349 - 

TWO-BIT/KATHY

What Chicks Really Want - “Evie’s conversation with Two-Bit, regarding Kathy and what he ought to be doing.” T - Words: 1,564 -

First Date - “Two-Bit picks Kathy up for their first date … half an hour late.” T - Words: 3,572 - 

Love Fool - “Three toxic words change everything, but is it for the better or worse?“ T - Words: 3,979 -

TWO-BIT/MARCIA

Banana Clip - “I got the usual for Christmas, thanks for asking. Mostly more librarian clothes […] I swear I have enough for a week straight now without having to wear one twice. One of them’s in that pink you like, though, so maybe you won’t make too much fun of me—not that I don’t love your two-bits (I know you think I’m funny). (Or, Marcia writes Two-Bit, half a world away.)” T - Words: 6,256 -

Keeper - “A post-book oneshot about Two-Bit and Marcia.” T - Words: 1,353 -

Multi-Chapter 

Unlikely - “Two-Bit and Marcia run into each other a few months after that fateful night. What happens is, to say the least, surprising.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,258 -

GIRLS

The Girlfriend Coalition - “They weren’t really friends. They were just girls who knew each other because of who their boyfriends happened to be. Evie’s left to wonder if she’ll ever actually get to meet someone who likes her for her, who doesn’t hang around her just to keep up appearances.” T - Words: 3,110 - 

Multi-Chapter

God Help the Girls - “…But with the girls, the rivalry was played out in near silence; psychological warfare. Nasty rumors and snide remarks. Girls will be girls, just as boys will be boys. It was that way all over America, and surely Tulsa was no different. But, no. It was oh so different in Tulsa.” T - Chapters: 20 - Words: 118,775 - 

CURTIS FAMILY

The Detective - “You’re a detective and his eyes hold a mystery for you to solve.” K+ - Words: 1,591 -

The Birth - “The Curtis parents prepare for the birth of their second child.” K - Words: 1,041 - 

The cake thief - “ Mrs Curtis. Verging on, if not complete, fluff…” K+ - Words: 969 - 

A Mother’s Love - “A summer trip to visit Grandma takes an unexpected turn when someone shows up earlier than expected.” T - Words: 3,123 - 

Solemn Simplicity - “The boys cope through their first Christmas without their parents and the recent loss of their friends.” T - Words: 2,811 - 

Little Liar - “It’s Ponyboy’s first ever rumble, and the Curtis brothers try to hide it from their parents.” T - Words: 4,647 -

That’s My Boy! - “Everyone thought Darry was named in honor of his dad; they’re wrong.” T - Words: 920 - 

Multi-Chapter

The Beginning - “Ponyboy isn’t the only Curtis with a story to tell.” T - Chapters: 10 - Words: 33,863 -

TIM 

the more is my unrest - “Being the man of the house is a job with few benefits, but someone has to do it.” T -  Words: 1,582 -

Breakfast With Shepard - “…Once we even found Tim Shepard, leader of the Shepard gang and far from his own turf, reading the morning paper in the armchair… What if Tim Shepard had decided to stay for breakfast?” M - Words: 2,314 -

Multi-Chapter

Going Back Home - “Tim Shepard drove out of Tulsa and swore he’d never return, but 14 years later a phone call brings him back to face the past.” T  - Chapters: 14 - Words: 29,319 - 

CURLY

Spin - “Little did Katie Mathews know that she didn’t need the luck of a coke bottle to kiss a certain greasy hood.” T - Words: 1,962 -

Totally worth it - “Pony goes to visit Curly in the reformatory” M - Words: 1,416 -

Multi-Chapter

Wild Ride - “To Ponyboy, Curly was the love of his life. To Curly, Ponyboy was just an expendable sex toy. Will Ponyboy bring back the Curly he supposedly remembers from their childhood, or will Ponyboy be left even more heartbroken than he already is?” M - Chapters: 25 - Words: 90,809 -

Curly Shepard Has A Plan - “Pony and Curly started 'going steady’ for a month. Pony didn’t want to go further until he was sure of himself, to which, 17 year old, Curly, frustratingly respected. Can a game of Truth or Dare changes things for better? Or for worse?” M - Chapters: 15 - Words: 14,597 -

ANGELA

They Were Gold - “Angela and Ponyboy used to be gold. But then…he changed them.” T - Words: 2,790 - 

Young Girls - “When’s the last you fell in love, Angel?” T - Words: 8,746 -

Multi-Chapter 

Trust - “As the youngest in her family Angela’s got a whole lot of reputation to live up to. Usually she enjoys the challenge, but when things go badly wrong there’s only ever one person she trusts to make things right.” T - Chapters: 2 - Words: 7,618 -

OTHER/OC POV

A Work of Art - “She never expected anyone to understand her—she expected them to learn from her, for through expression and knowledge deep within the soul is what brought art to life.” T - Words: 5,454 -

Looking back on a burning ember - “It has been twenty two years since the Windrexvill fire but Barbara has never forgotten the hero who saved her from the inferno.” K+ - Words: 1,025 - 

I spent way too much time on this and i still havent added fics from tumblr yet and sbahkfdsbjfbjvbfsdfjb but pls do send any fics y’all like to me and ill add them:))

@insanitycaver @sunny-impalas @staygoldponebone @sodapopsundae

[shannaraisles]

Hey! I'm sorry you had to get a message like that. I write white ocs too because I'm white and I don't want to disrespect anyone and the message I've mostly got is that it is disrespectful for white people write poc characters, because we don't know what it's really like. There seems to be something in the water because this is second time I've seen this kind of message today. It's really confusing.

I’d be willing to bet it has something to do with people getting riled up about the Brexit voting and bollocks happening over here (don’t get me started), as well as the resurgence in confidence among the bigoted and intolerant.

But you know what? You should write what you are comfortable to write, what you enjoy writing. As wonderful as it would be to fill my writing with diversity, I know that I would not be capable of doing that. If I was writing a book that I hoped to get published, I would be all over that research, I would completely immerse myself in learning everything I could about the experiences of people other than I am, just so that I could represent it accurately. But I also struggle a huge amount with depression and anxiety, and I am very easily overwhelmed. So for my fanfiction, which is an escape and an entertainment for me, I don’t want to get stressed out and upset. I don’t want to invite that anxiety into my relaxing moments. It isn’t that I don’t care about diversity and representation, but my priority has to be my own ability to function effectively. I may want to do everything and more, but I know my own limits.

So my fanfiction writing ... yes, it’s a white woman’s perspective from a Western European Christian background’s point of view. I was lucky enough to grow up in a city that is immensely proud of how tolerant it is of myriad religions, races, and sexualities; it still has its bigots and various ‘phobes, but I’ve not been exposed to that violence against the “other”. That is my experience, and it does bleed into my writing. 

For every writer, the baseline is who they are, where they were raised, what their experience of the world is. A professional author has the incentive and the responsibility to invite the stress and worry of accurate representation and throw themselves into including the diversity of the world around them in their writing. An amateur, someone who write purely for the joy of a character or a setting - they don’t have that incentive, or that responsibility. It’s amazing that so many fanfiction writers do put themselves through that stress to inform their writing, and I have nothing but respect for anyone who will use their leisure time to do something that overwhelms me just thinking about. Just because I can’t do it, doesn’t mean that other people can’t or shouldn’t or don’t.

I love seeing diversity in fandom; it’s a privilege, and it’s an education that I would not get in my day-to-day. I’ve learned so much about respecting boundaries and cultures, about understanding the differences between us and embracing them, just from my involvement in this fandom on Tumblr, and it makes me happy every time I learn something new. I can only hope, as I learn from so many people and my experience of the world changes, that it, too, will bleed into my writing, and I’ll improve.

All I really want is to write stories that people enjoy, and engage with people over games and characters that I love. I’ve got no room for intolerance, hatred, or bigotry. But I’ll never stop worrying that I’m being intolerant, hateful, or bigoted in some way, and in a way, that worry keeps me from doing it. I hope. I’m not here to upset people, and I don’t want to be disrespectful. That’s my baseline, and I’m always up for being corrected when I am wrong.

That got rambly, didn’t it? Thank you for the reassurance! :)

[thebibliosphere]

I saw somewhere that vampires couldnt see their reflections cause mirrors used to be backed by silver, but now theyre backed by tin or aluminum so vampires should be able to see themselves, what do you think of this?

The reason vampires, theoretically, cannot see themselves in mirrors, is because they are supposedly soulless, and silver is a “purifying” metal. 

People have been using silver and silver compounds to treat medical problems since the time of Hippocrates (so from at least around and before 460BC), with silver nitrate being used as an antibacterial/treatment for gonorrhea and other infectious diseases, from the late 1800s on wards. 

It’s seen a resurgence in the last few years in the form of colloidal silver, despite there being no real conclusive evidence that drinking it (DO NOT) will “cure” any and all ailments, ranging from skin infections to Autism or AIDS. (Yes really, that is a thing people have done. They freak out over the truly beneficial, life saving vaccine, but will gladly give their children a highly toxic compound which can result in third degree chemical burns, blindness or a condition called argyria which turns your permanently blue), In fact I think there was a study as recent as 2010 that said it actually did the opposite and was not more beneficial than a modern antibiotic, as many quack healers have and are claiming. Shocker.(Unlike colloidal gold which is used by the medical world, primarily in detection methods and also gene therapy. It was also used to be injected into the muscles to treat arthritis and was reported to have some benefits, but I think it has since fallen out of practice in a lot of places. My Nan used to get it done to her hands.) 

But Joy, I hear you ask, what does any of this have to do with vampires and silver backed mirrors? 

Well the thing is, silver backed mirrors didn’t become a thing until the mid 1800s, roughly around about the same time silver nitrate et al were being fully explored for medicinal purposes, and mistakenly thought to be a cure all. 

So, what do you do when someone is sick? You give them the latest cure all! What do you do if you live in a part of the world where the fear of vampires is still a thing and the cure all turns them blue and kills them? Shit, they must be a vampire!  

By that “logic” all things silver must repel them in some way, including these new fangled silver backed mirrors which reflect light perfectly. That’s why you never see them in the homes of the poor buggers we’re staking into the ground after they’re dead and cutting their heads off...not poverty or lack of availability in our small town...v a m p i r e s. 

And from there the new myth grows arms and legs—though possibly not a head for the poor bugger they just threw into a shallow grave covered in garlic—and the idea that vampires don’t have mirrors in their homes because they don’t cast a reflection is immortalized in popular fiction and carried over into modern mythology. (The reason for it being deadly to werewolves is down the the Magical Sympathy Law. ie werewolves are controlled by the Moon, so silver (also known as “lunar caustic” when the nitrate crystals solidify) being one of the seven metals of alchemy associated with the moon, must reverse their power or kill them! Science! Kind of...)

And even if your mythos does ascribe to his belief (and there’s no reason it can’t! It’s a great story prop!) I feel that conversely, this doesn’t mean vampires have no idea what they look like or cast no reflection at all, purely that they do not cast a reflection in silver.

People have been hammering metal flat and shiny to make reflective surfaces long before they were using silver backed mirrors. We know that polished copper has been used by people as a mirror since around 3000-4000BC in the region that was once Mesopotamia, and polished smooth bronze mirrors have been found in China dating back to 2000BC. They were rare and precious of course, and a luxury item, so not everyone household would have had one, but even your poorest lowly born vampire would have been able to see their reflection in a dark stone bowl filled with water allowed to sit still long enough, or sitting by the river on a clear calm night.

Which means I feel like writers are missing a trick when it comes to vampires who are so glad that silver is no longer considered an effective means of making mirrors (it’s expensive and harms the earth to keep mining it for vanity purposes) and are just here for metal alloy mirrors. Like holy shit Mary, hold the receiver, we are going to purchase floor length mirrors and put them in every room, you there my good sir, Harrods as fast as you can and don’t spare the mechanical horse. It’s time to SHINE. 

Don’t even get me started on when digital cameras become a thing and silver nitrate is no longer used to develop them, and they print in color. You mean I don’t have to keep getting the family portrait updated every few decades? Marvelous! The cost of blue ink is better than it was but it’s still highway robbery I tell you. Sharron, come here and help me put this on the book of faces. Yes, good. What a pity there isn’t a way to hold it back far enough for a family portrait whenever you want it. How easy it would be to commemorate moments of joy...a selfie stick?!?! TELL ME MORE

[scifimagpie]

What Is Even Happening Right Now?

So, astute readers will have noticed that I've been completely silent since February. Where'd I go for three months? This is going to be rambling and less focused than my usual posts, but perhaps my readers will forgive it. Content warning: pet death, current events Well...frankly, I haven't been able to figure out how to write about what's been going on. Despite years of editing and writing science fiction, including stories about or related to pandemics, actually enduring one myself was not something I seriously considered. I mean, I grew up in the era of both SARS and H1N1, the latter of which I actually contracted. It was a bit scary, and it sucked, but the deaths were relatively few in number, and fewer still, those who developed serious complications. Now, I realise the case was different for those living in Hong Kong and China and South-East Asia in general, but that was my experience as a Canadian. I trusted the medical system to handle a disease of significant scale.

How fact and fiction differ

For starters, the contagiousness of a disease is inversely proportional to its ability to spread. This is something that sci fi usually gets completely wrong - diseases are portrayed as both easy to catch and very deadly. But an extremely deadly disease usually burns itself out. Bubonic plague was an exception to this in part because the way diseases spread in the ancient world is different from the way they spread now - there were a lot more vectors back then because of the lack of knowledge about hygiene. There may be more opportunities to spread diseases now due to the increased population size and contact methods, but human beings have far less contact with blood, other animal species, and each others' bodily fluids than we used to. We know that washing our hands is even a thing we should do, rather than just a cosmetic or convenience factor, and we have functioning sewage and water lines (in many parts of the world, though not all, of course). The world is a lot less gross than it was in earlier eras, and frankly, that's protecting us more than we realise. Not enough, of course, to keep us from contacting new bacteria and viruses, and global warming is also increasing our risk of contracting ancient illnesses for which we no longer have immunity.

The practical upshot

Of course, all of this is intellectually interesting, but living through a pandemic is still flat-out terrifying and hard to deal with. I was already following the news avidly, fearful and concerned about the world, and then...this all happened.

The painful part

But that wasn't all. On April 4th, our cat Maxwell Maximilian Maximus passed away, having a heart attack at the age of about 12. We rushed him to the vet's office, but were told it was too late, and he was in heart failure. I'll skip the painful details, but his sudden death shook both my partner and I quite badly. We later realised he'd had his first heart attack in late November, and had actually been in heart failure for some time, but the benefit of hindsight is a sad one.

Still, having a cat for almost his entire life was a privilege and a joy. Because I hysterically demanded that we fill the "cat-shaped hole" in our home as soon as possible, with tears still on our faces, we went to the non-profit Humane Society to have a look at their cats. I can't recommend that enough for anyone grieving a lost pet - the joy animals have and their appreciation for human company is immense. After a few more visits and some discussion, about three weeks later, we brought home Alfred (Alfred Sylvester Codworth) and Chester (Chesterfield Archer Chestermere), a dignified 4yo tuxedo Ragamuffin-mix and a bouncy 10mo shorthaired tuxedo respectively, both with light green eyes. They get along wonderfully, and although new pets absolutely never replace the old, they made grieving a lot easier.

Cat pictures, because of course. Top: Chester; bottom: Alfred.

Alfred, named for his calm and butler-like solicitiousness, even seemed to figure out what happened to Maxwell. Of course the house still smelled of Max (to the cats), and coming fresh from the shelter, they started investigating to see where the other cat might be. On Alfred's first day at our home, he sniffed the area by the bookshelf in the bedroom where Max had spent most of his time crouching, and seemed to follow the scent trail to the closet where Max hid in fear (an unusual place, one he never spent time in) when the heart attack was happening. Animals instinctively know the smell of death, and Alfred must have recognised it at some point. He somberly padded from the closet to myself on the carpet by the bed. I burst into tears and hugged him, and the calm creature patiently let me sob into his luxuriant black fur. Since then, of course, things have been markedly less glum, and less painfully quiet than during the two weeks and a bit before we brought them home. It seemed like things were looking up. With a 290K fantasy novel to work on, I had professional occupation aplenty to boot. I even re-started my online D&D campaign, feeling that it might help me stay motivated and connected to the world. But the world had other plans. 

Current situation, protests

Although I've been planning a blog post on Things I've Been Wrong About, such as police reform, I am in many ways not especially well-equipped to speak on the epidemic of police violence and decades of racial injustice that has provoked Black Lives Matter's triumphant resurgence. Suffice to say for now that I fully support these efforts, and I now understand why merely reforming police is inadequate. I will be writing more about some of thoughts about this and other leftist issues in the future, so I'll keep it short for the time being.

You'd think that writing about revolutions would equip me to handle living through one to some degree, but I don't feel especially well-prepared. If I am better prepared than I would have been otherwise, it's hard to say. The truth is, the world's been in a rough spot for as long as I can remember, and by the world, I mostly mean "America," the loudest part. I also am considering a post about what it's been like to grow up as a Millennial, for the purposes of contrasting it with the Gen Z experience, so look for that in the coming weeks.

Do I think this is the apocalypse?

Well, the apocalypse is never the end of the entire world, because that's meaningless - if by "the world" we mean "our experience and lifestyle up to this point," then yes, this is an apocalypse - but we've had those before. The start of the Cold War, the First and Second World Wars, the invasion of North America by Europeans - all of those were apocalypses.

But I also believe that these painful contractions are spasms of death for some of our worst beliefs. The fact that people can even demand justice and be listened to is a significant step forward. However, not resting on our laurels or being content with crumbs is of vital importance, and any momentum gained from demanding either the abolition or restructuring of the police has to be used to demand the restructuring and abolition of prisons and other measures for creating equity.

There's a lot of work to come. We have to stick together, forgive each other sometimes, keep learning, and take time to rest, because the world just won't stop. 

***

Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and their two cats. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people’s manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. Find her all over the internet: * OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

[monolid-monologues]

TMI meets TMO. (as in, sharing Too Much Info will Talk Me Out of heartbreak, maybe?)

#6.

And yet another week flies by..with nothing to publish. because i haven’t been writing over the week.

Actually, plenty of writing, but, very personal writing. Where it was not happening: my tinyletter drafts. Where it was: my yellow moleskin journal i lug around everywhere. And THESE DAYS I really mean everywhere every day because…………….. well………………… WELL. WELL, HERE:

Let’s start with some context.

My last Mainstage production at UC Davis before graduating was the great beautiful and miraculous The Bluest Eye. I kid you not, I felt in my BONES how much this production would affect me. I needed to be in it. I had conflicts with another show overlapping rehearsal/show times. I got cast (joy!!!!!), then dropped (NO!!!!!!!). I caused a lot of ruckus and trouble lol. I insisted I NEED TO BE A PART OF THIS. My gut was one thooooooousand percent right. I wish this kind of ensemble experience for every student theatre artist. In this show, I enjoyed the presence of the most colorful mothafking cast i’ve ever seen in a play. We understood the importance of our work and the importance of each other in this work. We threw ourselves into shared purpose. We created and held a treasured space for love and chaos. We brewed so much love it was like a drug in a league of its own; we gave and received so much energy together we were all bonafide high off each other’s presence.

This show was selected to participate in a festival and compete for national awards and recognitions. Like 1 of 30 across the country. Part of me cannot believe a theatre production from UC Davis Major University for the Sciences was invited to this robust/artsy-theatre-program-school-type-shit festival. But also, part of me knows how special what we put on was, is, will be. The life-sized puppets, the ensemble work, the story, the purpose — we shared something rare, relevant and powerful. White Theatre Be Shooketh.

As you can tell, i’m fiercly in love with this production. And the point of this context is that we are now reuniting to put this show back together and take it to Oregon for 1 week this FEBRUARY!

and i’m getting to my point now....

That spring, i told you, i knew being in this show was going to impact me beyond words. But what i could NOT have known. What i never expected. What has been haunting me for months: Falling in love with someone in this show. I couldn’t have known that someone I’d never known before this show was going to shake. me. to. my. core. In meeting this person, knowing this person, falling in love with this person, and letting go of this person, i have undergone and am still getting through a terribly overdue re-awakening of my independence.

It gets really messy okay. For me to go INTO it, i need to go into my my open relationship, my relationship with my then partner of nearing 5 years (who was set to move in with me in the end of spring, closing the gap on our LDR), and my trapezing around town with this person I just met. The short version is this: I was careless, reckless, and naive; ignorant of my partner, ignorant of my needs, and of my own spiritual well-being. At that time, with just that person by my side, i felt fucking invincible. But I was being real clumsy.

Fast forward to the end of that spring — my partner moves back in with me, i tell this person we need to just be friends now, and everything feels wrong. I’m lying in bed with my partner, crying my eyes out because i hate letting go of this person. My partner is finally back home with me and I’m crying my eyes out because the truth was i have never felt for anyone what i felt for this person, and that included my partner. This is, of course, when i realize my partner and i need to break up.

I’m dumb in love with the most awful timing — it is absolutely not the right time for me to “be with someone” — and the most obstinate hubris — “I can handle the drama”. The relationship between me and this person is becoming increasingly tumultuous. I feel distance; I feel coldness; I feel confused. I keep biting my tongue; I keep second-guessing myself; I keep killing my impulse. I keep telling myself this is what I want! I want HIM! But what the fuck do I know about what i need? I haven’t been single in 5 years. I can barely recognize myself. There’s so much self-discovery to do. I had no business trying so hard to be with someone, when i didn’t even give myself the chance to consider what it meant to be alone.

I was absolutely in need of time with myself. Time for myself. time alone. alone. alone. alone. alone.

I understood this when I spent the following summer in Vermont. off grid. in frequent solitude. and the fellowship of a beautiful few.

I nearly forgot it when i came back from Vermont, and started trying to be with That Person. Dare i admit i became desperate? I opened myself wide open to you, in such haste, that I nearly hallowed myself of all my hard-earned and beloved sacred energy to make any kind of space i could so that you would fit. so that i could maybe possibly somehow someway make it fit, make it work. Obvious spoiler: it didn’t work.

When i was trying to make it work, i was someone different. My best friend had never seen me in such a state: so in love with someone, and so unable to get a grip on myself. Sitting across from me, or soothing me on the other end of the phone, she is shocked to witness me so paralyzed, so fearful, so insecure. She wants the best for me and i don’t care, i just want him. As I run this back through my memory, I am shocked too. I’m a little embarrassed but mostly deeply empathetic towards myself then: i needed to be alone, but i couldn’t let go. Whatever i was trying to have…Whatever i was holding onto…was suffocating my life. And I insisted on being choked and being fine.

How did this become the cliff notes to my love life? I want to share with you the magnitude of this person’s affect on my heart, so that when i say: I HAVE TO SEE HIM AGAIN FOR THIS FESTIVAL

you understand

the

storm

resurging

in a place i thought was healing.

I was healing. I was letting go molecule by molecule. I was steaming off the memories layer by layer. I was cutting myself off from dangerous dwellings. I was doing my god. damn. best. to thoroughly leave this person in the past where this whole thing belongs.

Yet, The Bluest Eye is reviving for at least one more stretch in February. I’ve just come back from Davis (last night Sunday); we had our first full meeting and puppet rehearsal. This is to say, i saw the guy, in the flesh, and spent the whole week prior bracing myself for it. In the spirit of self-effacing honesty: i nearly didn’t go. But i decided it is a test of strength and it is a test of independence and it is allowing my craziness to overcome my insecurities. I was going to be in a room with this guy for 5 hours and dig my nails into myself, stay loyal to myself, and be Who I am unyieldingly. I felt really good about it when i left. I proved to myself that i could be the open and loving person i am even if the guy wrenching my heart is 5 feet away. 

Being so distracted and confused by the pain and longing that i missed the opportunities to exchange energy with the rest of the room around me would have been my biggest regret. 

As i said, i left feeling quite good, proud, and at peace with my vulnerabilities.

Maybe i’m not 100% recovered, but i’m clearly, very clearly, in the THICK of recoverING, and i am truly growing, and moving forward step by step by step. 

In Davis, my good friend tells me: “if it’s not good for you, it’s not love”. Before I left for Davis, my best friend reminded me: “you’re trying too hard to fill in the blanks.” I’ve learned: “You can’t give what you can’t give.” (More familiar is the saying: you can’t give what you don’t have.)

To be completely honest, this beautiful show getting this beautiful chance at national recognition has ripped open such deep, old, ill-healing wounds in my heart. with a GIANT sigh, i am re-facing re-surfacing emotional ghosts, hurled back into combatting some very volatile mood-swinging emotional crises. In my personal journal this week i worked up a motherfkn STORM. My journal may as well be dripping from all the gel pen.

and meanwhile, my tinyletter’s been blank blank blank blank empty dusty blank………… and somehow, addressing my lack of tinyletter-ing, has revealed a very private part of my life. it is true: i was very busy private journaling, i didn’t have steam to write for the blog.

now i feel kind of sick this is the story for this week, i mean this is what came out, but this is all “VERY PERSONAL TERRITORY KEEP OUT”’. it’s honestly sort of unfortunate that this week’s letter has be to about my love life.

well there we go anyway.

Wow, Well, To leave on a more caustic, casual note~

THOUGHTS I KEEP COMING ACROSS AS I USE HINGE............

so many Del Playa/Newport, suit wearing, beer touting, IM ON A BOAT white bro motherfuckers (this is the first demographic i kept seeing on my recommended. happy to say hard passing each and every one of them has changed the algorithm).

why tf is pineapple on pizza such a hot topic lmao

BUT WHAT’S THEIR ENERGYYYYYYYYYY LIKE??????!!!!!!

But how old are these pictures man *scrutinizing any available time stamps*

Oh, :O HE’S………not the cute one in the pic………….

Pictures say 33 but profile age says 23, iooonnooooo sir

weird flex weird flex weird flex

if you think they’re 20 miles away from you, always add 20 more…………..

am i having an averse reaction to your profile because you remind me of someone? ~_~

am i really attracted to your profile because you remind me of someone? ~_~

ARE THESE SHENANIGANS THE BEST USE OF MY TIME???????????

It seems this is what comes out of me when I have nothing prepared to write about...

Nothing like rashly revealing too much info to motivate a better, more though-out next week. LOL. 

wish me luck, and see you then.

* * *

i’ve committed to being vulnerable in writing every week. if u want it straight shot to your inbox: https://tinyletter.com/rose-artrat

previous letter:  #5.) God Bless a Good Mess

for random thoughts, random questions //

http://monolid-monologues.tumblr.com/ask

[mrneighbourlove]

A Gerudo Story: Tebanem and Klinge.

Klinge toured the castle halls. He enjoyed the small walks he could have on his own around the castle interior, taking in the grandness of it all. So much history over the generations, personal included as well, in every inch. His concentration, however, was broken by two young men running around the corner, one of them smashing into him and falling into the floor.

Keeping his balance from the crash and looking down Klinge saw Prince Tebanam on the floor, and a son of a court member if Klinge recalled, panicking from the collision.

“Ow, that really hurt.”

“Tebanam, are you alright?!”

Klinge screamed internally from potentially harming the prince but kept steady. Tebanam was such a care free lad, and Klinge enjoyed how the prince took great interest in Gerudo history. If he unintentionally hurt him he would never forgive himself.

“Prince Tebanam, you are not hurt are you sir?”

“I’m fine Commander. Sorry for running into you.”

“You can address me as just Klinge Prince Tebanam. No need for ‘Commander’.”

“Then in return how about we just leave it at Tebanam if you don’t want formalities.”

Tebanam gave the commander a smile. Klinge reached down and yanked Tebanam up to his feet.

“I’d recommend getting checked out for head wounds. Running straight into a heavy suit of armour can’t be good for you.”

“Coming from the guy whose personal training gets me and my brothers and sisters rocked around like ragdolls. I think we’ll be fine.”

The boy with the prince dusted him off with deep concern in his eyes.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, he’s intentionally given me worse. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, good. I need you in peak condition.”

Tebanam gave him a smile beaming with joy.

“Let’s go. And sorry for once again running into you Klinge.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Klinge watched as the two boys ran off. They had a sparkle in their eyes that brought Klinge back to a younger time in his life. Ah, the joys of youth. Klinge continued his stroll down the castle, noticing the rainbow shining through the window. Looked like the storm outside had just finished.

- 

“Lazy oaf, sending me to do something he could get in an instant.”

Klinge made his way down to the basement of the ninth tower. Ghirahim wanted him to collect a scroll of some sort from storage, insisting it was important, but not important enough to grab himself. And since the demon still outranked him, Klinge had little say in the matter on being a dog going to play fetch.  

Klinge yanked open the door to the basement and descended down the steps. He looked around some of the shelves but didn’t see any scroll. Must have been in the closet door. Opening it he came to a sudden stop. Before his eyes he saw Tebanam and the younger man from before, naked and on top of each other in passionate love making. Tebanam was thrusting up and down.

When Tebanam eyes took notice of the armoured warrior, he locked onto him with a burning primal fear exploding.

“OH MY GOD! Get out!!!”

Klinge quickly stepped outside and shut the door. He heard the panicked rushed voices coming from the two men. Klinge took a moment to process what he just saw, and, with a deep breath, knocked on the door. This would take the most careful planning of words and intention. A prince and the son of a council member engaging in sexual intercourse. The scandal would be worse than any in Hyrule’s history. Klinge tried to soften his words with his tone.

“I’m coming in about ten seconds. Get changed.”

Klinge waited a moment, and opened the door. The two young men had at least their pants on, and fumbled their way on getting their shirts on.

“Boys, calm-“

“No, you weren’t supposed to be here!”

“Lord Jazoh please-“

“No he’s right, what the hell are you doing down here!?”

“I came to get a scroll Prince Tebanam.”

Tebanam looked to his right and threw the closest piece of paper at Klinge. Tears were streaming down his face.

“There you go. Now get out!”

“Prince Tebanam I-“

“JUST GO!”

Klinge firmly shut the door and blocked the only exit out, using his large frame to keep them in.

“No.”

“Why, so I can feel more embarrassed?!”

Klinge took a softer stance. He had to let Tebanam know that there was no danger.

“Boys, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. I want you to trust me. However, I’m going to have you both just take a deep breath and calm down.��

Tebanam and Jazoh looked at each other, and did as they were told, but still had worry in their eyes. Jazoh looked at Klinge, the black knight’s presence unnerving him.

“If my father finds out about this-“

“He won’t.”

“You sure?”

“Nothing leaves this room. Tebanam, how long has this been going on for?”

“Almost a month now.”

“Why keep this a secret?”

Jazoh shuddered, barely able to stop shaking from the thought of what would happen if this got out.

“Because my father would never allow this. As a member of the court he despises the very thought.”

“I see. Rinku’s first girlfriend made Zelda have a panic attack; can imagine how those stooges in the court would burst in comparison.”

“That’s why this has been a secret. No one can find out. Not Moma, Papa, or anyone else.”

“I understand. But you both should know that the King and Queen would support you in the end. And you have my support. Love, no matter what shape, shouldn’t be something that is ridiculed and snuffed out.”

“But-“

“Follow your hearts and do what’s right. And I promise, as ex. Head of the Royal Guard, and your protector, you are safe with me.”

Klinge crossed his heart and smiled under his helmet.

“It’s our little secret.”

Tebanam gave a huge sigh of relief and hugged the Darknut, catching Klinge off guard with the sign of affection, and tears of joy starting to fall down even harder.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Klinge patted him awkwardly on the back. He barely received this kind of contact anymore. It was nice though. Never having a child himself, Klinge couldn’t help but see himself as father figure sometimes. Hell, the kids even sometimes called him “Uncle Klinge” as little children. It filled him with pride to help Tebanam.

“Anytime Tebanam.”

Klinge let go, grabbed the scroll, and started to leave.

“I’ll go now. So sorry for interrupting you. And this wasn’t a bad spot to hide all things considered.”

Klinge gave small one handed salute.

“Have a fine rest of your evening gentlemen, and know you aren’t alone.”

-

Klinge exited the board room of Captains, council members and other military leaders. It had been a long meeting over the petty charade of how to integrate Lorleidian guards into noble protection units. The snotty men and woman argued and debated why they wanted pure Hylian units watching them. He turned to Captain’s Kelly and Tulilad with an angry gruff.  The insults were unbearable today. Against the Lorleidians sure, but also oddly enough a resurgence against the Gerudo.

“God damn nobles. How they are still able to come up with new insults infuriates me to no end. I am close to boiling the next fool uses his tongue in such a way. Don’t they understand that sacrifice to their pleasure must be taken to achieve success? It took so many goddamn years for them to get used to the Goblins and Undead, now we have to restart the whole damn thing over again!”

Both Captains rolled their eyes. Tulilad picked up his stride to keep up with the Commander.

“Sir, maybe you and the nobles would get along more if you didn’t undermine them every given chance.”

“Or threaten them.”

“By and I quote, “Crushing their greedy fat eyes into their skulls” if they couldn’t see change.”

Klinge shrugged his shoulders. He had never gotten along well with the nobles of Hyrule. They represented everything wrong with the country. He was fine with a relationship of fear between them, because they knew who would come out on top in the end. Klinge even had a few secretly assassinated over the years against the ones who would dare plot to end the lives of the royal family. He understood why they were necessary to the country, but by god did he wish Ganondorf had just done away with them all when he became King. Maybe when Zarazu ascended the throne she could be convinced to make some changes to the hierarchy.

“Speaking of that, I appreciate the gesture, but perhaps in the future we should watch our words.”

Klinge turned to see Queen Zarazu exit behind them. The Lorleidian had bags under eyes from the stress of keeping her composure in. She was glad her friend was there to be the first to put the council in its place and back her up. Her people had done so much for Hyrule over the years, yet those damn nobles still fought tooth and nail to stop change from occurring.

Klinge smiled to the Queen, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips. How odd, over the years he had grown more human and expressive with his emotions.

“Aw come now, I’m sure it would be fun. Besides, there is so much you can do to those vultures. You ever seen a rich man run around with his wig cut to pieces, or better yet, on fire? Damn hilarious.”

Zarazu gave a laugh. The man’s dark sense of humor amused her, at least when directed towards the right people.

“I’m sure it would.”

“Seriously though, on your command. Poof.” Klinge made a motion with his fingers and a small amount of dark fire flickered in his hand.

The two shared another jolly laugh. Tulilad and Kelly looked at the Knight and the Queen in amusement. It was nice to see their Commander have opened up to more people over the years. Especially after his first encounter with Queen Zarazu. She had brought a new and, dare they say, caring side to the Commander that before could only be rarely seen.

After the warrior had said his goodbyes, Klinge went around the corner to go into his private courters when he found Ganondorf waiting for him at his door. Oddly enough the king and a few others had been missing from the meeting. Klinge knew immediately by the look of rage that something was wrong.

“Yes, my liege?”

Ganondorf trotted up to him and yelled right in his face.

“My office. Now!”

Klinge did as he was commanded. He tried to quickly recall if he had done anything out of line. Entering the office he found Zelda sitting at the end of the desk with a bottle of gin next to her. Her glare was ice cold and pointed straight at him. Klinge’s muscles tightened, he was not in the mood to have a snapping argument with the queen.

“Take a seat Commander.”

Klinge did as he was told, but only because Ganondorf was in the room with her, taking a seat beside his wife. If Zelda wanted to be on point, so would he.

“What is this about?”

“This is about our son, Tebanam.”

Klinge’s mind cracked like a piece of glass. There could only be one reason for him being called here. They knew, and if they knew then others must have known. Yet he put on a poker face in his voice hoping for a different outcome.

“What about the Prince?”

Ganondorf’s fingers cracked.

“Don’t be coy Klinge. You know exactly what.”

Damn it. So they did know. Klinge still tried to keep up the façade in his voice though.

“I don’t know what you are-“

Ganondorf slammed his fist into the desk, dark energies rippling.

“You know exactly what we are talking about here you bastard!”

Fine, no point in hiding it now.

“I do not see what this has to do with me. The prince’s sexual preference matters not to me!”

“So you did know, why did you not come forward to us right away? We are his parents. If you told us what happened between him and  Jazoh, the situation may have not grown out of control.”

Klinge’s hands tightened, a pit in his stomach growing.

“What situation?

Zelda gave a sigh and squeezed tightly around her glass.

“Uro Spegeil, Jazoh’s father, somehow found out about the relationship between his son and Tebanam. Rumors are already going through out the court. When we asked our son who knew of his “activities” with Jazoh, he told us you were the only one who knew.”

Klinge stood up from the chair. He had to see Tebanam and see if he was ok.

“I can fix this.”

“Sit down Klinge! Because you didn’t tell us right away, the situation has spiralled out of control. We could have done something to help him!”

Klinge snapped at Zelda, he knew exactly what the damn Hylian meant by “help”.

“Really, what would you have done Zelda? Placed guards around Tebanam, given him a scolding to “fix” the way he loves people? Because it worked so well the first time around after you discovered Rinku’s first relationship! God forbid you love a child who can explore their sexuality!”

The small bottle almost broke under Zelda’s rage from the commanders comments.

“How dare you. I love my children for who they are.”

“Please, being gay isn’t a high Hylian standard and you know it! If you had it your way, your perfect flowery Hylian way, you would have-”

“Be silent Klinge!”

Klinge looked over to see Ganondorf slam his fist once again into the desk, shattering it in two. Klinge, however, was still angry himself, and would not be dismayed by Ganondorf’s power.

“King Ganondorf, Queen Zelda. If you brought me here to scold me you are wasting your time. I didn’t tell you because I felt it was in the best interest of Tebanam. I wanted his privacy to come first!”

Zelda breathed deeply. She had tried so long to keep her children safe, both physically and mentally, but now a terrible omen laid in her stomach. The courts, who had despised her husband and children for years, finally had something to tear their teeth into. The only minimal bit of comfort she felt was that Klinge did what he though was right and legitimately cared for her son.

“If you don’t mind your majesty, I wish to see the young prince.”

Ganondorf was hesitant, but Zelda gave a tired nod, with one final fiery glare at Klinge.

“I doubt your looking for permission but you may proceed. Just know this, if anything like this happens again with our children, and you keep the knowledge to yourself, I will have your undead head removed from your body.”

Klinge growled from her threat. Even now they still couldn’t be fully at peace with each other. If Zelda wanted to take her stress out on him from the situation, that was fine with him.

“I’ll remember that comment the next time an assassin sneaks his way into your room Zelda.”

Klinge stormed out of the office before either the King or Queen could have a reaction from his comment and made his way as quickly as he could to Tebanem’s room. Just as he made it and was about to open the door, he heard someone behind him. Turning around, he then had to look down to see Rinku, her short stature easily recognizable.

“Oh, Commander Klinge, long time no see. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see Tebanem.”

A small look of grief and pity graced Rinku’s face. She knew exactly what her brother was going through.

“Yeah, me too. Say, why don’t we go in together.”

Klinge nodded his head. It would be nice to have some support on this. Opening the door he let Rinku in first. Tebenam was by his window, curled up and watching the night sky. From this distance he was looking out to the lands beyond Hyrule.

“Hey bro.”

Tebanem turned his head, surprised to see his elder sister. His eyes looked devoid of colour and life, as if something had been ripped from his very soul.

“Hey sis.”

Rinku walked over to him and sat beside him. “You doing alright?”

“No.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Rinku put an arm around her baby brother for support. Thankfully Tebanem didn’t object. However when the prince saw Klinge a bitter anger started to grow in him.

“Klinge.”

“Yes, Tebanem?”

“You said that everything was going to be alright.”

Klinge did not like where this was going.

“I did. I told you it was our secret, and I didn’t make that public.”

“Yet the information got out anyways.”

“Tebanem, your family and I can help you. I told you you’d be safe, you and Jazoh can still have a happy life together. I won’t let your mother or even the nobles get in the way of that. That’s a promise on my part.”

Klinge reached a hand out for Tebanem. God he just wanted him to be happy. The smile Klinge wore slowly disappeared as he released Tebanem had no intention of reaching out.

“Jazoh’s gone.”

Both Klinge and Rinku had surprise slapped across their faces. Rinku held her grip on her brother a little tighter.

“What do you mean?”

“As I walked through the castle today I picked up on the new remarks whispered behind my back by the staff and nobles. I quickly knew what this could only mean so I hurried to find Jazoh. Instead I found his father. He told me he had sent Jazoh away to be cleaned in spirit. He called me a disgusting desert pig swine who stole Jazoh’s heart and corrupted him and that he would do everything in his power to make sure my name was damaged beyond repair.” Tebanem started to have tears come down his face, yet he retained his low tone, never breaking into a sob. These were the tears of a broken man. “I never even got to say goodbye. So what the hell can you possibly keep safe Commander.”

Klinge’s hand shaked. Guilt stabbed him in his gut. He should have watched more carefully over the boys. “Tebanem, I only wanted…”

“Get the hell out.”

Rinku watched as Klinge took a physical step back. She had never seen the Commander so rattled by words before.

“Tebanem, that’s not fair to Klinge.”

“I want him gone Rinku.”

Klinge’s hand slowly balled into a fist. With a small bow, he reluctantly followed the prince’s command. “As you wish, your highness. I suppose you’d like to be with actual family now.”

“I would. Now leave.”

Klinge left the room and slowly shut the door behind him. The balled fist he had squeezed tighter and tighter, until blood started to leak from it. The prince was angry at him because he couldn’t protect him. Klinge had failed him, had completely shattered his promise. Klinge’s eyes then flared from sadness to wrath, a hatred kindling inside him. If he couldn’t protect Tebanem from the ridicule of the court, he would avenge him. Starting with the bastard who dare hurt him so.

-

Uro Spegeil entered his living courters and sat at his desk. Sending his son away out of Hyrule was taxing, as well as arguing with boy’s mother on doing so. But seeing the look of fear as the young Gerudo prince squirmed when he told him that he’d never see Jazoh filled Uro with content. How dare that ingrate, that desert rat confuse Jazoh so, and worse, defile him before wedlock.

Uro took out his secret stash of wine from his draw and poured himself a glass. Taking a sip he nearly dropped his bottle when he finally noticed the figure standing in the corner of his room, illuminated by the moonlight peering through the room.

“Who’s there?! Identify yourself before I call the guards!”

“I am the Guard.”

Klinge walked forward more into view, his presence towering over the noble. Uro wasn’t sure what the High Commander wanted.

“Why have you broken into my room?”

“I told you, I am the Guard. I protect the royalty, and you have made the terrible mistake of targeting Prince Tebanem.”

“Are you here to threaten me? Because if you are, just leave now. I won’t be dismayed in my actions, that little rat deserves everything coming to him. Besides, you can’t do anything, I haven’t broken any laws.”

Klinge took another step closer to Uro, his hands crackling.

“You hurt my boy. And for that, I am going to kill you.”

Uro dropped his wine glass in terror and took as much distance as he could between himself and Klinge as he could.

“Are you insane? I’m a council member! You can’t touch me!”

Uro desperately tried to find something to defend himself, grabbing a small dirty butter knife.

“That’s right! If you do touch me, people will know it was you. How many times have you threatened to tear a nobles head off or stab him to death?”

“That’s why I’m not going to lay a finger on you.”

“What in god’s name are you talking about?”

Klinge merely pointed down to the broken bottle on the floor. Uro didn’t quite get it until a feeling in his gut started to stab him. Falling to his knee’s his eyes started to bulge and the air turned hot. He looked up through the red haze and the pain to see Klinge stand over him.

“Not the first time I’ve done this. Your right though, a more hands on approach would give myself away, so that’s why I only use poisons for situations like these. You can thank the Deku for coming up with such a dangerous toxin. Burns up your organs, causes you to exert any fluids and feces you have from your body, cuts off the air supply, as well as put you in the most unimaginable pain after a minute of taking it. Well, if you aren’t a Deku that is. Don’t worry though, there’s always able body nobles just itching to have your position, and nobody will miss you.”

Uro started tearing at his throat, desperate for any kind of clean air.

“I do hope you savoured that wine. Maybe in the next life you’ll think twice about hurting a Gerudo you Hylian mutt.”

Klinge watched the last bit of life be torn from Uro as he twitched on the ground, foam and blood leaking from him. Feeling content with what he did, he left the room as fast as he could. Best nobody witness him at the scene of the crime.

-

A little more than a month had passed since Klinge slew Uro. People were shocked, but assassinations against nobles were nothing new. Hell, this actually helped Klinge’s case on convincing the nobles to not be picky with having Lorleidians be there bodyguards. Yet, Tebenam had still refused to talk to him. Klinge thought that he out of most would be thrilled for Uro’s death.

Klinge decided that maybe he should confront Tebanem directly. Maybe it would be best for Klinge to tell him he was actually sorry in his failure to protect the boy. At least then he could feel less guilty. Over the last month Klinge had threatened more and more nobles daring to speak out against Tebanem, and those were against just the rumor’s he heard himself. He hoped the stress wasn’t too much for Tebanem. It had been a week since he had been at the castle, just coming back from an inspection, he worried about the boy immensely every day he was gone.

Klinge knocked at the prince’s door.  “Prince Tebanem? Are you there? It’s Klinge.” There came no reply from the other side. “I just wanted to say that I am sorry.” Once again came no answer. After a minute of waiting and the occasional knock, Klinge decided Tebanem wasn’t in his room. Maybe one of his siblings would know.

Klinge made his way through the castle, until he found Kanisa practicing her dancing. My how she moved like the wind. When she took notice of the commander, she didn’t stop her practicing until she was finished. With her last stride she took a bow towards Klinge, who gave her a clap of congratulations.

“Nicely done Kanisa. I can see why so many have fallen for you. No one can make a heart sing for joy like you can.”

Kanisa blushed from the commander’s compliments.

“What can I do for you Klinge?”

“Actually I was hoping to find your brother, Tebanem. I haven’t spoken to him for a while and I just wanted to check in on him. He wasn’t in the library or at his room. I thought you or one of your siblings would know.”

The smile on Kanisa’s face died off and was replaced with that of a burden.

“Oh, you didn’t know.”

Klinge was curious, but a little worried at the same time. Did something happen to her brother while she was away?

“Know what? Kanisa, please, if there is anything you need to tell me, do so.”

Kanisa walked off the stage and took one of Klinge’s hands and held on gently.

“Klinge, Tebanem is gone. He left the castle four days ago. I… I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Terror went through Klinge. He should have been there to stop Tebanem, or to at least talk to him.

“Why. Why would he leave?”

“He couldn’t handle it anymore. The people of the court kept ridiculing him, despite everyone’s best interests to protect him. So he just left it all behind.”

“No.” Klinge looked towards the exit. His mind was racing. He had done everything he could to protect Tebanem. Given him extra protection detail, threatened nobles, even bribed people to stop antagonizing him. He started to move towards the exit, if he hurried, maybe he could pick up a trail. Kanisa still held on, stopping him from going forward.

“Klinge please, he’s gone. There is nothing you can do now.”

Klinge’s hand shook in Kanisa’s. He started to tremble throughout his body.

“No, you don’t understand. I was supposed to protect him; I was supposed to protect you all. Yet, even after I promised him safety…I failed. I failed to protect him. I…” Klinge’s guilt caused him to collapse into Kanisa’s arms in a supporting embrace. “Oh goddesses, I wasn’t there for him. I told him he’d be safe, yet I failed. I failed Kanisa.”

Kanisa soothed the commander as much as she could. She was glad that someone had tried so hard to look after her brother and cared for all of her siblings so much.

“This isn’t your fault. Things will work out in the end, trust me.”

Despite her kind words, Klinge felt nothing but misery in his heart. Since his reincarnation, he had barely felt human emotion besides rage and wrath, or the pleasure of others pain. But now he felt true sadness. After failing to save Cipher and his child, he considered this his second biggest failure in life.

-

“ ‘And so Ralco carried his beloved Cleo down the steps to his horse carriage, ready to whisk her off to a far off country. This was his last chance for escape.  Suddenly, Baron Von Issia stepped into view and drew his blade. He was hell bent on making Cleo his. Taking his blade, the baron stabbed the thief through the heart, saving Cleo from the scum!’ God damn it Issia, Cleo isn’t yours to take!”

Klinge continued to read his light novel, becoming more furious as he discovered Issia was the one to end up with Cleo. A whole three hours and this was how the book ended?! He slammed the book close and threw it in the garbage heap where it belonged. His private office was filled with unfinished crafted weapons, scrolls, books, and documents stacked upon each other. He had a special shelf for historic books and novels Kanisa had recommended. His walls were always filled with weapon racks containing old swords and armour, mostly Gerudo, but now also on the walls were drawings and small paintings he had done.

Klinge turned to the painting of the Gerudo Desert he still had to complete. It was odd how much free time he had on his hands now a days. True, he always had the freedom to do tasks at his own pace, but when he first moved into the castle, there was always someone that needed drilling, inspections to sort out, criminals to hunt down, look out for threats against the royalty, etc. Even after he promoted Tulilad to the head of the Royal Guard, he still trained knights, help raise and teach the children, stop more than one war against Hyrule, as well as put an end to other disasters. There was just no time in the early years to focus on something more than just combat, bloodshed, and hatred. Now he could just…do things. He found himself getting bored, and like any enemy, he’d do anything to kill it.

Klinge took the brush and carefully continued his work. The brush was his dagger, making clean strokes. Even when he was living he never did this, but he had learned so much culture even in just the last twenty-nine years that it inspired him. And after some practice, he was getting very good at his craft. If mastering weapon and martial art techniques could be done, then so could this.

After another hour he was done. Klinge looked the bright orange and the curves of the sand, and was especially proud how he got the shadow right with the sun. Looking at the painting alone he started to miss home. The blazing heat, the warm feeling you get when you stood barefoot on the sand, the cool breeze at night. It had almost been five-hundred years since his birth, how he longed to feel the desert as a living being again. A loud bang at his door shattered his concentration. He could hear the muffled voice of Tulilad from the other side.

Klinge walked over and unlocked his door, starting from the bolt at the top, the chain in the middle, then finally bar. As High Commander he couldn’t be too careful of assassins in his rest. Klinge stood perfectly with the door open just enough so Tulilad couldn’t see inside his room.

“Yes, Captain, what is it?”

“Sir, I’ve been at your door for five minutes trying to get your attention.”

Klinge was surprised. He concluded the painting must have captured him more immensely then he previously thought.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help you Tulilad?”

“Commander, it’s Prince Tebanem, he’s back from one of his expeditions.”

Klinge’s heart skipped a beat from hearing that. It had been so long since he had seen the prince. Unlike Orana, whenever the prince came back from home, he barely stayed long. Also, because of these short windows, Klinge had missed the first two times Tebanem returned, as he was out on assignments outside of the castle for days at a time. First Kanisa and her new lover Vidar had come back from the North for a visit, now Tebanem had arrived here at the same time? The gods had favoured his hand this day.

“Thank you for alerting me of this Captain. I will be down to see him immediately. Just give me a moment first.”

Klinge shut the door and went over to the painting he had just finished. He had planned this being displayed above his bedroom, but now he had a new idea. What better gift to give to Tebanam then this? Rolling it up carefully, Klinge sealed up with scroll wrapping and hurried his way done the palace. As he walked through, he heard the buzzing of the staff, all them excited for the prince’s return. To be perfectly honest, Klinge was worried. The last time he saw the boy, although it had been many years, Tebanam was in a hurt state. He hoped he fared better now.  

He heard the excitement come from the family room behind the door. At least it seemed like they were in good spirits. Klinge crossed his heart for luck and entered.

“So Faris and I were double crossed. The Baron’s guard were moving to box us in and steal back his treasure. With all the artifacts in hand, we stuffed ourselves into the mine cart and rocketed ourselves down the shaft. At the end, was an opening to outside the mountain, and we flew out to the lake below, having the water save our skins. By the gods it was a hell of a ride.”

The whole family laughed from Tebanem story. Klinge saw how the boy grew, and how the spirit he had before the scandal was back in him. And by Din, the facial hair on him.

Klinge took notice of the new comer in the corner of the room. A strange man with a dark skin tone, purple hair braided into dreadlocks, and tattoo markings on his face and what was visible on his arms. The man also took notice of him, and when he spoke his voice was calm and low.

“Hey Tebanem, you’ve got another visitor.”

Everyone turned to look towards to who Faris was referring. When Tebanem saw Klinge, he gave him a small smile. Damn, did he have some explaining to do. The rest of his siblings and their spouses gave him room to walk towards the commander.

“Hey Klinge.”

“Hello Tebanem. You’ve been gone a very long time.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t seen you in years, and all you can say is “I know”? You didn’t even stick around long enough on your last two returns to say hello.”

“Um, yeah. I’m sorry about that.” Tebanem took a deep breath. “And I’m also sorry for the way I treated you the last time we talked. I was just anger and hurt.”

“That’s ok.”

Klinge and stared at Tebanem for a while in silence after words. It made his siblings unsure of what Klinge was going to say next, and it unnerved Tebanem to no end. Klinge then relaxed his shoulders and squeezed hard around Tebanem in a hug, surprising everyone in the room.

“I missed you. You’ve been gone for so long.”

Tebanem hugged him back, patting the back of his armour, while trying to not suffocate.

“Me too. Can you put me down now?”                                                    

Klinge was the first to let go, but still held his hands on Tebanem’s shoulders, really examining him.

“Look at you, all grown up. Even have a fine beard growing here. I’m impressed. So according to your siblings you’re a treasure hunter eh?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to find knowledge and artifacts around the world of different civilizations. Especially on the Gerudo.”

Klinge’s eyes shot out in amazement.

“You’re serious, our people?!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve even got a haul of stolen artifacts from our tribe here at the castle.”

“That’s amazing boy! What’s your research like?!”

Tebanem smiled from ear to ear, taking out a research book. Ganondorf and Covarog grinned from both men’s excitement.

“You ever see Klinge this excited before Papa?”

“Maybe when you were first born, but other than that, no.”

The two Gerudo’s chuckled as Klinge and Tebanem carried on. Klinge took a moment’s pause to look back to the new man in the corner.

“So, Tebanem, who is this burley gentlemen?”

“Oh of course, where are my manners, Klinge this is Faris.”

“Faris huh? Is he a friend, bodyguard, lover?”

Klinge took note of the body language Tebanem gave him, revealing the answers. How he started to nod at bodyguard, but the moment Klinge so causally dropped lovers, the prince was blushing redder then peaches.

Tebanem tried to have something to reply when Klinge tilted his head at his flushness. Damn him for catching off guard. He watched as Klinge made his way over to Faris.

Faris on the other hand, wasn’t fully quite sure what to make of the black knight, except that he was huge. He stood slightly taller than Tebanem’s brother, Covarog, and his presence was unnerving. His aura quickly went from a possible friend to a danger just from walking from Tebanem over to him.

“So Faris, I just need to ask, how does Tebanem make you feel?”

“I care for his wellbeing if that’s what you are asking.”

“Very, good, straight to the point, I like that. Because I just want you to know that terrible things can happen to those who treat Tebanem poorly.”

“Like what?”

Faris’s wasn’t sure where Klinge was going with this, but it felt very much like an interrogation. Immediately everyone in the room stepped forward, because they knew exactly where Klinge’s first impressions could go. Tebanem stepped between himself and Klinge.

“You are not allowed to scare my boyfriend.”

“Come now, I just wanted to get to know him better, give him my special charm. Maybe a little sparring session?”

Cass, Corsaire, Vidar and Zarazu shook their heads.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You should stay away from the lad.”

“Let’s not.”

“Please for the love of Voda, do not.”

Klinge rolled his eyes and gave a huff. “Fine, perhaps another time.” Klinge looked deep into Faris’s eyes and spoke in soft cold whisper.  “Like if you break his heart I will tear your spine from your body with my bare hands.”

Tebanem smacked his hand down his face. So this is what his siblings had gone on about Klinge being terrible with meeting new people. He honestly hoped he didn’t scare Faris away from wanting to visit Hyrule again. “What did I just say?”

Faris gave a gulp but didn’t break his gaze, though the warrior in front of him had a killing intent behind him. He was as cold and black as the void just staring him down. “I’d never do anything to hurt him, you have my word on that.”

Klinge leaned off him, content with the answer. “Good. Now boys and girls, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you all.”

Klinge took out the painting he had, and rolled it out flat for all to see. Everyone was blown away by what they saw. Ganondorf especially stunned.

“Klinge, is that-“

“Our old home, the Gerudo Desert.”

Covarog and Ralnor loved how the shadows were cast down, Orana and Kanisa overjoyed by the waves of orange, and Tebanam the shining sun and bright blue sky in contrast with the sand. Zolori came behind Klinge and gave him a pat on the back.

“You’ve been practicing.”

Klinge gave a nod.

“Yeah, thanks for the inspiration.”

Tebanem scooped it up, in love with the art.

“And this is for all of us?”

“Yes, I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you Klinge.”

After the kids finished fawning over the art everyone mingled for a while. A small party had been prepared for Tebanem’s and Kanisa’s arrival. Grand amounts of food and drink had been prepared. Klinge talked with Kanisa before excusing himself to see Tebanem. The Prince was just with Faris’s, avoiding the nobles from the castle. Klinge’s presence was a nice distraction.

“Klinge, what can I do for you?”

“Tebanem, I was wondering if I could talk to you privately.”

“Sure.” Tebanem looked to Faris’s and gave him a peck on the check. “Be back in a moment.”

Klinge and Tebanem walked around the corner of the party, away from all the noise and people.

“So Klinge, what is it?”

Klinge looked at Tebanem and gave a heavy sigh.

“I wanted to tell you that I am sorry I failed you.”

Tebanam took a double back.

“What are you taking about?”

“All those years ago. I told you I’d keep you safe. My sole purpose was to keep you, and your brothers and sisters protected from harm. Yet I couldn’t. I broke my promise to you. I tried so hard to keep your dignity intact. You left because I failed in helping you Tebanem. I’m….I’m a failure.”

Tebanem couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Klinge feel this guilt the entire time he was gone? He had no idea how to respond at first.

“Klinge…”

“I’m sorry Prince Tebanem.”

“Hey”, Klinge looked up from the cheerful change in attitude from Tebanem’s voice. “What did I say about you calling me a Prince?”

“But I-“

“I left for my own reasons. And you can’t carry this unimaginable, unfair burden on yourself. There was nothing you could do on your own to protect me and when I was angry at you, I was at my lowest point. I was cold. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I’m sorry that you felt this guilt all this time Klinge.”

Klinge took a deep breath, these words helping him expel the feelings of worry he had carried over the years.

“I just, care about you boy. I care about all of you.”

“I know Uncle Klinge.”

Klinge gave a mighty cheerful laugh, but his voice was soft and warm.

“You haven’t called me that since you were a tiny child.”

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t care so damn much. Kind of overwhelming.”

“You know, it has been a while since you’ve had a combat lesson. How’s your sword arm?”

“No, we are not going there.”

“Nonsense, it will be fun. Tell you what, if you tell me about all the culture of our people you’ve found, I’ll go easy on you.”

“How about I show you the culture itself, think my last catch will intrigue you and the rest of the family immensely.”

Klinge was blooming under his helmet. The resurgence of Gerudo culture, and all because of Tebanem.

“That sounds delightful. Tell me, if you remember your history so well, who was the only Gerudo sage in our history?”

“Pfff, that’s an easy one. Nabooru.”

Klinge gave Tebanem a light pat over the back, almost knocking the prince over.

“Very good. Glad to have you back boy.”

[leighkhoopes]

The first big meme of 2017 has arrived and it's List the Top 10 Albums That Influenced You As A Teenager. This was an almost impossible selection for me, so I gave myself some additional ground rules: these albums all came out when I was an actual teenager (13-19, to be precise) and I promptly wore them out something serious. These are also albums that I continue to listen to and enjoy to this day. I also took the *complete* album into consideration—almost all of these are total listen-throughs for me, even though there may be some other songs and singles that had more of an impact on my impressionable teenage brain. 

 So, here's the list, how old I was when they came out, and some thoughts, in no particular order: 

Sleater-Kinney - One Beat (2002) I was: 17, in between high school and college This was the first SK album I ever bought, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. It was on one of those listening stations at the local music store (RIP ear-x-tacy) and the opener with its urgent drums, spindly guitars and fantastic vocals and harmonies drew me in immediately. Apparently One Beat was their "political" album and that makes sense, but the infectiously jangly "Oh!" remains one of my all-time favorite songs to this day, and though I've listened to the rest of their catalogue, One Beat remains my favorite to this day. 

Christina Aguilera - Stripped (2002) I was: 18, college freshman Fun fact: I was one of those angsty teens who mocked pop music while hiding my secret shame at loving every bubblegum beat and boy band dance jam. When you're a teenager, you have to keep up appearances—I knew I wasn't one of the popular types, so I tried to be a "rock" kid and turned up my nose at what turned out to be some really great songs. My dear Ms. Aguilera changed all of that for me. I had already loved her first singles (You cannot deny "Genie in a Bottle," so don't even try) and her complete ownage of "Lady Marmalade" for the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, so when Stripped came out in all its sexual and bold yet vulnerable and honest glory, I found the soundtrack to the twilight of my teenage years. Everyone knows about "Dirrty," "Beautiful," "Can't Hold Us Down," and "Fighter," but have you heard the soft sensuality of "Lovin' Me for Me"? What about the deep piano soul of "Underappreciated"? This album is packed with both gems and jams, and remains relevant to this very day.

Eve - Scorpion (2001) I was: 16, high school junior I came late to the rap game, since I wasn’t allowed to buy CDs with parental advisory stickers until my senior year of high school, so I've made a lot of progress, but I didn't get the kind of hip-hop education most of my friends have besides what made it onto the radio at the time. This was post-Tupac/Biggie but pre-50 Cent, and the airwaves were mostly dominated by the aforementioned pop and its bad cousin pop-punk. So when Eve's basically flawless "Let Me Blow Ya Mind" featuring Gwen Stefani's damn near perfect hook and what I would learn is a quintessentially Dr. Dre beat dropped, all slinky and sexy and sassy, I was beyond obsessed. The rest of the album is on point, too: "Who's That Girl?" became an anthem for me because I could easily sing back "LEIGH's that girl!" (la la la-la, la la la-la); "Gangsta Bitch" was a sick collab with Trina and Da Brat; and "Got What You Need" is a great call-and-response banger courtesy of Swizz Beats and some other lesser Ruff Ryders rapper who is probably mad that Eve destroyed him on this track and probably in real life as well. 

The Kills - Keep on Your Mean Side (2003) I was: 19, college sophomore Somehow I got this CD for Christmas? I don’t remember how or where I heard about it, but this album for me is the perfect combination of sexy and scuzzy with raw guitars and sparse, swampy beats and endless, unbearable chemistry between VV (Allison Mosshart) and Hotel (Jamie Hince) that continues to this day. Fifteen years, four albums, and multiple side projects (and one very high-profile marriage and divorce) later, and I am one of those fans who firmly stans for them to live happily ever after in musical harmony and continuing rock n’ roll cuteness. They’re just SO PERFECT TOGETHER, OKAY? Anyway, this album is great, and you should listen to it if you haven’t already.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2001) I was: 16, soon-to-be high school senior If I had to pick ONE album that was the most influential to me of all of these, it would be Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ seminal self-titled EP. It dropped right before my senior year of high school, when I was finally starting to figure myself out a little bit and realizing that I liked loud music by loud ladies that I could dance to and scream along to, regardless of genre or format. The Strokes, The Hives, The White Stripes, and all their ilk were kicking off a new rock revolution, but there were so few ladies out there making as much noise as I needed them to. Karen O was not a great singer, but the way she whispered and groaned and wailed over the wall of sound that Nick and Brian created with just a guitar and a drumset was revelatory to me, especially after I got to see them live a few years later, smushed up against the stage at the Southgate House and rapt as the speakers pounded in my chest and Karen sprayed beer and spit on all of us, and she leaned down at the beginning of “Our Time” at the end of their set, when I was exhausted and enthralled, put the mic in front my face and together we crooned “To break on through-ooh!” YYYs continued to put out some great music and evolve their sound not-so-greatly in the following years (sorry, y’all, but Mosquito was not good), but nothing seared itself so firmly on my psyche as Karen and me covered in sweat, singing what should have been an anthem for the pre-1990 Millennials: “It’s the year to be hated / so glad that we made it.” If that doesn’t sum up everything everyone’s ever said about those of us born between 1980 and 1999, I don’t know what does.

Daft Punk - Discovery (2001) I was: 16, high school junior If there’s another album I had to name as one of my top all-timers, completely different but still equally influential, it’s Daft Punk’s Discovery. Daft Punk allowed me to embrace my love of dance and electronic music, and built a perfect unifying force among me and my friends, providing that anthem we’d been waiting for with “One More Time,” a song that still fills me with joy every time those first few beats fade in and I can’t help but smile when it drops and that surprisingly, beautifully warm vocoder voice comes in over the spaces between. The rest of the album is literally iconic as well, and really cemented Daft Punk as the arbiters of dance parties for everyone, all-inclusive, delirious and endlessly entertaining and ultimately joyful.

Le Tigre (1999) I was: 15, high school sophomore I’ll admit it: I missed the Riot Grrl movement by several years, so Kathleen Hanna and Le Tigre were a new experience for me. I loved the edge and the anger in her voice, the fuzzy throwback sound and sampling that made it seem like something I could do if I just tried harder and wasn’t so shy and scared to raise a ruckus and my voice. One thing I’ve noticed about so many of these albums and groups is that I really liked stripped-down music with big sounds created by small groups of people: duos and trios make up the bulk of my favorite albums during this era. I got to see them live as well, when JD Sampson joined the lineup and became my introduction to confusingly, distractingly sexy nonbinary people, and it was at the height of the Bush era, in the middle of my college years, and while I didn’t feel the exhilaration of singing with Karen O, I felt the freedom of dancing my ass off and screaming until my lungs my ached, unafraid of who I might bump into with my unruly booty, unafraid of who I might offend with my burgeoning baby feminism. I was sad when they stopped recording and disappointed at their recent lackluster Hillary Clinton track near the end of the election cycle, but I’ve loved the resurgence of The Julie Ruin and the ongoing reinvention and determination Hanna continues to project in the face of so much bullshittery that permeates our world and culture today. 

The Mars Volta - De-Loused in the Comatorium (2003) I was: 19, college sophomore At the Drive-In was another band I missed out on the first time around, but The Mars Volta popped up in my circles of smartass potheads once I started to find my tiny tribe of people in the rural Kentucky college town in which I lived for four years. I’ve always loved a man unafraid to belt out an anthem, and Cedric Bixler-Zavala golden throat soared over Omar Rodruigez-Lopez’s prog-rock symphonies and movements, and it sounded just as good when I was stone cold sober as when I was self-medicating in the name of social acceptance and anxiety avoidance. I will forever associate them with giant spliffs and endless laughter, letting the discordant sounds wash over me and and Cedric’s voice burn through me, as well as making myself a zombie prom queen Halloween costume under a waxing moon after a bad breakup, working some kind of dark magic to transform myself into someone no one would recognize, even if only for a night. There was always a sadness that permeated these songs, something that got lost in their later, more esoteric albums I could never get into, and there was something on this album that made me feel okay with being sad, allowing myself to feel my feelings that I tried to keep hidden for far too long.

Ludacris - Back for the First Time (2000) I was: 16, high school junior Again, the most rap I had ever really listened to before high school was MC Hammer and Will Smith’s squeaky clean radio-rap, so Luda’s debut was a major eye-opener for overly-sheltered white suburban me. "What's Your Fantasy" and "Phat Rabbit" were titillating, sure, but also fantastic rhymes and beats, and "Stick 'Em Up Bitch" and "1st & 10" were darkly hilarious under their gangsta veneers. "Southern Hospitality" brought bravado to what could have just been another Neptunes beat, and throughout it all, Luda's flow was so sick and smooth, so full of wit and wordplay and unashamed sexuality, and I loved to blare it driving through my parents’ neighborhood, even after the speakers in my car blew out and sounded like nothing but surly vibrations as I dawdled on my way home for my 11pm curfew. If I had to come in at what I considered an unfair, oppressive time, I was going to wake up everyone else in the process. Yes, I was a not-so-secret dick when I was a teenager–weren’t we all? Side note: I'm kind of sad Shawnna never made it all that big, and this video is the absolute perfect time capsule of the year 2000.

Peaches - The Teaches of Peaches (2000) I was: 16, high school senior I’ll also admit this: I fucking loved “electroclash.” That amalgamation of punk and dance music was everything to me, the perfect blend of rock guitars and big beats that enmeshed everything teenage me loved about being loud and dancing like everyone was watching and not giving a fuck either way. Peaches was gross and vulgar and rapped about sex with no emotion but pleasure, and she got even dirtier as the years went on, but The Teaches of Peaches was seminal and shocking and just the kind of thing a slightly crazed and endlessly awkward, horny teenage girl needed to hear to start embracing my own weird sexuality and rampaging hormones and confused feelings, instead of keeping them locked away and shameful like I was supposed to. Everyone knows and loves "Fuck the Pain Away," thanks to its cameo appearances in Lost in Translation and the Jackass movies, but "Lovertits" was always my personal favorite from this album. The moment that breakdown takes over is pure brilliance and one of my favorite moments in any song ever. Peaches dancing in front of the mirror in this video is teenage me, always and forever, singing to myself when no one was looking and finally finding away to sing to myself in public, out loud, and not caring who heard me. I'm still working on it, but I think these albums did a lot to push me in the direction I've gone and to get me where I am now as a feminist and a lover of music and dance parties for life.

Honorable Mentions: 

Beck - Midnite Vultures (1999)

No Doubt - Return of Saturn (2000)

Madonna - Ray of Light (1998)

The Strokes - Is This It (2001)

N.E.R.D. - In Search Of... (2001)

[entergamingxp]

Skater XL Review — Ride Like the Wind, Straining the Limits

July 28, 2020 1:00 PM EST

Shred the gnar!

It has been 10 years since Skate 3 released for Xbox 360 and PS3. While it isn’t the best entry in EA’s beloved franchise (Skate 2, baby!), it was the last time we saw a major skateboarding video game release. Sure, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater HD and Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 5 launched in 2012 and 2015 respectively, but we don’t talk about those dark times. There has been a huge hole in the video game market and it is finally being filled after those 10 long years, starting with Skater XL.

Developed by the California-based team at Easy Day Studios, Skater XL attempts to bring back the simulation style of the Skate franchise, but with its own unique take. It may not be the cleanest landing, with a few frustrating quirks, but it’s certainly a stylish and fun take on a genre I’ve personally missed.

Skateboarding is, in many ways, a form of expression. Everyone has their own style; someone like The Nuge has a more aggressive style than someone like Daewon Song, who is more tech-focused. In Skater XL, that expression is found in its gameplay. It is arguably the most imperative facet of any skateboarding game. Easy Day Studios has crafted a pretty rad trick system that is incredibly expressive, but comes at the cost of some oddities that break the immersion I would want in a sim-style skateboarding game.

Similar to Skate, Skater XL uses the analog sticks to perform tricks. However, the majority of tricks require both sticks, each representing the skater’s feet; the left stick is the left foot and the right stick is the right foot. In order to turn the board, the player has to use the triggers. For example, if I wanted to do a frontside flip in regular stance, I would want to first position the right foot at the tail, which is done by pulling the right stick down. To initiate the flip, I want to let go of the stick to pop the board, and then flick the left stick to the left, producing that kickflip motion. While doing that, I want to pull the left trigger so the skater does the frontside 180.

For the most part, this trick system is very fluid and fun to play around with. It really does feel like skateboarding. This is also in part due to the physics-based nature of the system. The tricks feel and look different depending on how I would flick the sticks. It also looks pretty natural in-motion. There is definitely a learning curve; when I started playing the early access version a few months ago, it took me about an hour to feel comfortable. But once it clicks, the potential for lines in any given map feels endless.

“For the most part, this trick system is very fluid and fun to play around with. It really does feel like skateboarding.”

However, there are times when these tricks don’t look all that natural. The physics-based system is a bit of a double-edged sword. Yes, I was able to produce incredibly natural-looking flips a lot of the time. But sometimes, and especially when I attempted more advanced tricks like 360 inward heelflips or nollie hardflips, the board does some very unnatural motions. Some flips will kind of just find its way to the skater’s feet mid flip, almost like a magnet. It looks very odd, and was a bit of a damper when I was attempting a line repeatedly because a trick just looks so unnatural.

There are also times when the character’s body would bend in ways it probably shouldn’t. One of the more recurring instances of this is when I would do a boardslide and landing fakie. The skater’s knees would bend in before the landing. While I had a good laugh at how this man just broke his knees and then re-popped them back during a trick, it definitely became frustrating when I was trying to create “realistic” looking clips.

However, most of those odd and unnatural occurrences never frustrated me enough to hate the trick system. Since most of the game is finding spots and attempting lines over and over again, it never felt disheartening to restart a line. It also helps that the spawn point tool is useful. If I was unhappy with a line or my skater’s body contorted in some odd way, I was able to go back to the spawn point I placed instantly. I could also replace my spawn point on the fly if I felt like the current spot wasn’t placed well.

One thing that bothered me initially with Skater XL’s gameplay was the most basic of tricks: The ollie. There were two factors that irked me about the fundamental trick when I started playing. The first, there are really only two different ollie heights; the second, the high popping ollie is comically high. It still kind of bothers me now, because ollieing up a curb will always look so ridiculous, but every level seems to be designed with these ollie heights in mind. So, it doesn’t look so ridiculous all the time. Just sometimes.

Again, everything I’ve talked about, when all put together, really makes for a fun experience. The only aspect of Skater XL’s gameplay I really struggled with finding much joy in was with how it handles transition skating. This isn’t a flaw exclusive to this game. Skating on ramps, particularly bowls and halfpipes, in Skate and Session are also not great. I never feel like I’m in control of my skater when I’m on a ramp. For example, let’s say I want to do a frontside flip on a quarter pipe. I figure if I initiate the trick at the top of the ramp, I would then go back down rather than moving forward on top of the ramp. That was not the case. There were times where I did go back down the ramp, and a lot of times I would just move forward.

“One of the most impressive parts of Skater XL is its replay editor. I absolutely cannot stop messing around with it.”

For bigger ramps, like the halfpipe on the big ramp level, I needed to pump to get enough speed to move up the ramp. However, when I did pump, the skater went way too fast, and more often than not, ended up on top of the ramp rather than going back down it. Sometimes the stars would align, and I was able to perform some sick trick, but even then it doesn’t feel as satisfying as street skating.

One of the most impressive parts of Skater XL is its replay editor. I absolutely cannot stop messing around with it. There is a bit of a learning curve, but the menu for the editor is so clean and straightforward, it really doesn’t take too long to start making cool clips. It actually surprised me how easy it was to make a clip that really looked impressive. I may have a few gripes about Skater XL’s gameplay, but the incredible replay editor will be the reason why I’ll always come back and shred at places like Easy Day High School and Downtown L.A.

Speaking of those two locations, the maps in Skater XL are all really fun to skate around. Easy Day High School and Downtown L.A. are easily the best of the eight maps available at launch. They are the largest with some iconic spots, like the Leap of Faith and Staples Center. Heck, there is a level that seems to be an accurate depiction of the West L.A. Courthouse (which you can watch Eric Koston skate on above).

The one map I lost interest in quickly was the big ramp. It is super fun to get crazy air of the wooden goliath, but as I said before, the transition skating just isn’t all that fun. For what it is, it is a fun map to mess around with for a bit, but I would rather skate Easy Day High School over that any day.

There really is a lot to love about Skater XL, but it does lack a robust character creator. All in all, there are 11 different player models. This includes four males, four females, and three pro character models. Also, there are several different hair types, hats, clothing, and boards, some of which are from real-life brands like New Balance, Element, Primitive, and Independent.

Despite having all these different brands, there really wasn’t much variety in the clothing or boards available. Every shirt, bottom, and hat type all fit nearly identical. For example, the unbranded jeans looked exactly like the DC branded jeans, just a different color. There aren’t as many board options, either. There are enough options to make a skater with distinguishable features, just not enough to create one that is wholly unique.

“Skater XL has successfully brought back the skateboarding genre…”

From its fun gameplay to its stellar replay editor, Skater XL is a great game to kick off this resurgence of the skateboarding genre in video games. Really, the only thing standing in the way of this game’s success is whether players can get down with the lack of a progression system or campaign. Yes, there are challenges for each map, but they are really meant for newer players who want to learn the ropes or need some ideas for spots or lines to skate. From what I can tell, everything is unlocked at the start, and the “progression system” is the player’s ability to perform tricks in a manner that is satisfying, kind of like real skateboarding. Personally, I love the loop of finding a spot, committing to a trick, and performing it as clean as possible. That is enough for me. But I can see players becoming disinterested if there isn’t really anything to strive for.

I mentioned this in my interview with Easy Day Studios, but I have essentially waited for a game like this to release before I even started working for DualShockers. The once elusive, but now announced Skate 4, and really the skateboarding genre as a whole, has been part of many E3 editorials I’ve written the past couple of years. It is one of the very few genres I really identify myself with. So, to see a small studio like Easy Day Studios create something that is not only reminiscent of the games that clearly influenced them, but overall improves on what its predecessors did, is heartening. Sure, it has its fair share of flaws, but none of them take away from how much fun I’ve had. Skater XL has successfully brought back the skateboarding genre, and I am eager to see how Easy Day Studios supports the game moving forward.

July 28, 2020 1:00 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/07/skater-xl-review-ride-like-the-wind-straining-the-limits/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=skater-xl-review-ride-like-the-wind-straining-the-limits

[thesnhuup]

Pop Picks – January 2, 2020

What I’m listening to: 

I was never really an Amy Winehouse fan and I don’t listen to much jazz or blue-eyed soul. Recently, eight years after she died at only 27, I heard her single Tears Dry On Their Own and I was hooked (the song was on someone’s “ten things I’d want on a deserted island” list). Since then, I’ve been playing her almost every day. I started the documentary about her, Amy, and stopped. I didn’t much like her. Or, more accurately, I didn’t much like the signals of her own eventual destruction that were evident early on. I think it was D. H. Lawrence that once said “Trust the art, not the artist.” Sometimes it is better not to know too much and just relish the sheer artistry of the work. Winehouse’s Back to Black, which was named one of the best albums of 2007, is as fresh and painful and amazing 13 years later.

What I’m reading: 

Alan Bennett’s lovely novella An Uncommon Reader is a what-if tale, wondering what it would mean if Queen Elizabeth II suddenly became a reader. Because of a lucked upon book mobile on palace grounds, she becomes just that, much to the consternation of her staff and with all kinds of delicious consequences, including curiosity, imagination, self-awareness, and growing disregard for pomp. With an ill-framed suggestion, reading becomes writing and provides a surprise ending. For all of us who love books, this is a finely wrought and delightful love poem to the power of books for readers and writers alike. Imagine if all our leaders were readers (sigh).

What I’m watching:

I’m a huge fan of many things – The National, Boston sports teams, BMW motorcycles, Pho – but there is a stage of life, typically adolescence, when fandom changes the universe, provides a lens to finally understand the world and, more importantly, yourself, in profound ways. My wife Pat would say Joni Mitchell did that for her. Gurinder Chadha’s wonderful film Blinded By The Light captures the power of discovery when Javed, the son of struggling Pakistani immigrants in a dead end place during a dead end time (the Thatcher period, from which Britain has never recovered: see Brexit), hears Springsteen and is forever changed. The movie, sometimes musical, sometimes comedy, and often bubbling with energy, has more heft than it might seem at first. There is pain in a father struggling to retain his dignity while he fails to provide, the father and son tension in so many immigrant families (I lived some of that), and what it means to be an outsider in the only culture you actually have ever known. 

Archive 

Posted on November 25, 2019

My pop picks are usually a combination of three things: what I am listening to, reading, and watching. But last week I happily combined all three. That is, I went to NYC last week and saw two shows. The first was Cyrano, starring Game of Thrones superstar Peter Dinklage in the title role, with Jasmine Cephas Jones as Roxanne. She was Peggy in the original Hamilton cast and has an amazing voice. The music was written by Aaron and Bryce Dessner, two members of my favorite band, The National, with lyrics by lead singer Matt Berninger and his wife Carin Besser. Erica Schmidt, Dinklage’s wife, directs. Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play is light, dated, and melodramatic, but this production was delightful. Dinklage owns the stage, a master, and his deep bass voice, not all that great for singing, but commanding in the delivery of every line, was somehow a plaintive and resonant counterpoint to Cephas Jones’ soaring voice. In the original Cyrano, the title character’s large nose marks him as outsider and ”other,” but Dinklage was born with achondroplasia, the cause of his dwarfism, and there is a kind of resonance in his performance that feels like pain not acted, but known. Deeply. It takes this rather lightweight play and gives it depth. Even if it didn’t, not everything has to be deep and profound – there is joy in seeing something executed so darn well. Cyrano was delightfully satisfying.

The other show was the much lauded Aaron Sorkin rendition of To Kill a Mockingbird, starring another actor at the very top of his game, Ed Harris. This is a Mockingbird for our times, one in which iconic Atticus Finch’s idealistic “you have to live in someone else’s skin” feels naive in the face of hateful racism and anti-Semitism. The Black characters in the play get more voice, if not agency, in the stage play than they do in the book, especially housekeeper Calpurnia, who voices incredulity at Finch’s faith in his neighbors and reminds us that he does not pay the price of his patience. She does. And Tom Robinson, the Black man falsely accused of rape – “convicted at the moment he was accused,” Whatever West Wing was for Sorkin – and I dearly loved that show – this is a play for a broken United States, where racism abounds and does so with sanction by those in power. As our daughter said, “I think Trump broke Aaron Sorkin.” It was as powerful a thing I’ve seen on stage in years.  

With both plays, I was reminded of the magic that is live theater. 

October 31, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

It drove his critics crazy that Obama was the coolest president we ever had and his summer 2019 playlist on Spotify simply confirms that reality. It has been on repeat for me. From Drake to Lizzo (God I love her) to Steely Dan to Raphael Saadiq to Sinatra (who I skip every time – I’m not buying the nostalgia), his carefully curated list reflects not only his infinite coolness, but the breadth of his interests and generosity of taste. I love the music, but I love even more the image of Michelle and him rocking out somewhere far from Washington’s madness, as much as I miss them both.

What I’m reading: 

I struggled with Christy Lefteri’s The Beekeeper of Aleppo for the first 50 pages, worried that she’d drag out every tired trope of Mid-Eastern society, but I fell for her main characters and their journey as refugees from Syria to England. Parts of this book were hard to read and very dark, because that is the plight of so many refugees and she doesn’t shy away from those realities and the enormous toll they take on displaced people. It’s a hard read, but there is light too – in resilience, in love, in friendships, the small tender gestures of people tossed together in a heartless world. Lefteri volunteered in Greek refugee programs, spent a lot of interviewing people, and the book feels true, and importantly, heartfelt.

What I’m watching:

Soap opera meets Shakespeare, deliciously malevolent and operatic, Succession has been our favorite series this season. Loosely based on the Murdochs and their media empire (don’t believe the denials), this was our must watch television on Sunday nights, filling the void left by Game of Thrones. The acting is over-the-top good, the frequent comedy dark, the writing brilliant, and the music superb. We found ourselves quoting lines after every episode. Like the hilarious; “You don’t hear much about syphilis these days. Very much the Myspace of STDs.” Watch it so we can talk about that season 2 finale.

August 30, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

I usually go to music here, but the New York Times new 1619 podcast is just terrific, as is the whole project, which observes the sale of the first enslaved human beings on our shores 400 years ago. The first episode, “The Fight for a True Democracy” is a remarkable overview (in a mere 44 minutes) of the centrality of racism and slavery in the American story over those 400 years. It should be mandatory listening in every high school in the country. I’m eager for the next episodes. Side note: I am addicted to The Daily podcast, which gives more color and detail to the NY Times stories I read in print (yes, print), and reminds me of how smart and thoughtful are those journalists who give us real news. We need them now more than ever.

What I’m reading: 

Colson Whitehead has done it again. The Nickel Boys, his new novel, is a worthy successor to his masterpiece The Underground Railroad, and because it is closer to our time, based on the real-life horrors of a Florida reform school, and written a time of resurgent White Supremacy, it hits even harder and with more urgency than its predecessor. Maybe because we can read Underground Railroad with a sense of “that was history,” but one can’t read Nickel Boys without the lurking feeling that such horrors persist today and the monsters that perpetrate such horrors walk among us. They often hold press conferences.

What I’m watching:

Queer Eye, the Netflix remake of the original Queer Eye for the Straight Guy some ten years later, is wondrously entertaining, but it also feels adroitly aligned with our dysfunctional times. Episode three has a conversation with Karamo Brown, one of the fab five, and a Georgia small town cop (and Trump supporter) that feels unscripted and unexpected and reminds us of how little actual conversation seems to be taking place in our divided country. Oh, for more car rides such as the one they take in that moment, when a chasm is bridged, if only for a few minutes. Set in the South, it is often a refreshing and affirming response to what it means to be male at a time of toxic masculinity and the overdue catharsis and pain of the #MeToo movement. Did I mention? It’s really fun.

July 1, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

The National remains my favorite band and probably 50% of my listening time is a National album or playlist. Their new album I Am Easy To Find feels like a turning point record for the band, going from the moody, outsider introspection and doubt of lead singer Matt Berninger to something that feels more adult, sophisticated, and wiser. I might have titled it Women Help The Band Grow Up. Matt is no longer the center of The National’s universe and he frequently cedes the mic to the many women who accompany and often lead on the long, their longest, album. They include Gail Ann Dorsey (who sang with Bowie for a long time), who is amazing, and a number of the songs were written by Carin Besser, Berninger’s wife. I especially love the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, the arrangements, and the sheer complexity and coherence of the work. It still amazes me when I meet someone who does not know The National. My heart breaks for them just a little.

What I’m reading: 

Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls is a retelling of Homer’s Iliad through the lens of a captive Trojan queen, Briseis. As a reviewer in The Atlantic writes, it answers the question “What does war mean to women?” We know the answer and it has always been true, whether it is the casual and assumed rape of captive women in this ancient war story or the use of rape in modern day Congo, Syria, or any other conflict zone. Yet literature almost never gives voice to the women – almost always minor characters at best — and their unspeakable suffering. Barker does it here for Briseis, for Hector’s wife Andromache, and for the other women who understand that the death of their men is tragedy, but what they then endure is worse. Think of it ancient literature having its own #MeToo moment. The NY Times’ Geraldine Brooks did not much like the novel. I did. Very much.

What I’m watching: 

The BBC-HBO limited series Years and Years is breathtaking, scary, and absolutely familiar. It’s as if Black Mirrorand Children of Men had a baby and it precisely captures the zeitgeist, the current sense that the world is spinning out of control and things are coming at us too fast. It is a near future (Trump has been re-elected and Brexit has occurred finally)…not dystopia exactly, but damn close. The closing scene of last week’s first episode (there are 6 episodes and it’s on every Monday) shows nuclear war breaking out between China and the U.S. Yikes! The scope of this show is wide and there is a big, baggy feel to it – but I love the ambition even if I’m not looking forward to the nightmares.

May 19, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

I usually go to music here, but I was really moved by this podcast of a Davis Brooks talk at the Commonwealth Club in Silicon Valley: https://www.commonwealthclub.org/events/archive/podcast/david-brooks-quest-moral-life.  While I have long found myself distant from his political stance, he has come through a dark night of the soul and emerged with a wonderful clarity about calling, community, and not happiness (that most superficial of goals), but fulfillment and meaning, found in community and human kinship of many kinds. I immediately sent it to my kids.

What I’m reading: 

Susan Orlean’s wonderful The Library Book, a love song to libraries told through the story of the LA Central Library.  It brought back cherished memories of my many hours in beloved libraries — as a kid in the Waltham Public Library, a high schooler in the Farber Library at Brandeis (Lil Farber years later became a mentor of mine), and the cathedral-like Bapst Library at BC when I was a graduate student. Yes, I was a nerd. This is a love song to books certainly, but a reminder that libraries are so, so much more.  It is a reminder that libraries are less about a place or being a repository of information and, like America at its best, an idea and ideal. By the way, oh to write like her.

What I’m watching: 

What else? Game of Thrones, like any sensible human being. This last season is disappointing in many ways and the drop off in the writing post George R.R. Martin is as clear as was the drop off in the post-Sorkin West Wing. I would be willing to bet that if Martin has been writing the last season, Sansa and Tyrion would have committed suicide in the crypt. That said, we fans are deeply invested and even the flaws are giving us so much to discuss and debate. In that sense, the real gift of this last season is the enjoyment between episodes, like the old pre-streaming days when we all arrived at work after the latest episode of the Sopranos to discuss what we had all seen the night before. I will say this, the last two episodes — full of battle and gore – have been visually stunning. Whether the torches of the Dothraki being extinguished in the distance or Arya riding through rubble and flame on a white horse, rarely has the series ascended to such visual grandeur.

March 28, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

There is a lovely piece played in a scene from A Place Called Home that I tracked down. It’s Erik Satie’s 3 Gymnopédies: Gymnopédie No. 1, played by the wonderful pianist Klára Körmendi. Satie composed this piece in 1888 and it was considered avant-garde and anti-Romantic. It’s minimalism and bit of dissonance sound fresh and contemporary to my ears and while not a huge Classical music fan, I’ve fallen in love with the Körmendi playlist on Spotify. When you need an alternative to hours of Cardi B.

What I’m reading: 

Just finished Esi Edugyan’s 2018 novel Washington Black. Starting on a slave plantation in Barbados, it is a picaresque novel that has elements of Jules Verne, Moby Dick, Frankenstein, and Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad. Yes, it strains credulity and there are moments of “huh?”, but I loved it (disclosure: I was in the minority among my fellow book club members) and the first third is a searing depiction of slavery. It’s audacious, sprawling (from Barbados to the Arctic to London to Africa), and the writing, especially about nature, luminous. 

What I’m watching: 

A soap opera. Yes, I’d like to pretend it’s something else, but we are 31 episodes into the Australian drama A Place Called Home and we are so, so addicted. Like “It’s  AM, but can’t we watch just one more episode?” addicted. Despite all the secrets, cliff hangers, intrigue, and “did that just happen?” moments, the core ingredients of any good soap opera, APCH has superb acting, real heft in terms of subject matter (including homophobia, anti-Semitism, sexual assault, and class), touches of our beloved Downton Abbey, and great cars. Beware. If you start, you won’t stop.

February 11, 2019

What I’m listening to:

Raphael Saadiq has been around for quite a while, as a musician, writer, and producer. He’s new to me and I love his old school R&B sound. Like Leon Bridges, he brings a contemporary freshness to the genre, sounding like a young Stevie Wonder (listen to “You’re The One That I Like”). Rock and Roll may be largely dead, but R&B persists – maybe because the former was derivative of the latter and never as good (and I say that as a Rock and Roll fan). I’m embarrassed to only have discovered Saadiq so late in his career, but it’s a delight to have done so.

What I’m reading:

Just finished Marilynne Robinson’s Home, part of her trilogy that includes the Pulitzer Prize winning first novel, Gilead, and the book after Home, Lila. Robinson is often described as a Christian writer, but not in a conventional sense. In this case, she gives us a modern version of the prodigal son and tells the story of what comes after he is welcomed back home. It’s not pretty. Robinson is a self-described Calvinist, thus character begets fate in Robinson’s world view and redemption is at best a question. There is something of Faulkner in her work (I am much taken with his famous “The past is never past” quote after a week in the deep South), her style is masterful, and like Faulkner, she builds with these three novels a whole universe in the small town of Gilead. Start with Gilead to better enjoy Home.

What I’m watching:

Sex Education was the most fun series we’ve seen in ages and we binged watched it on Netflix. A British homage to John Hughes films like The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Pretty in Pink, it feels like a mash up of American and British high schools. Focusing on the relationship of Maeve, the smart bad girl, and Otis, the virginal and awkward son of a sex therapist (played with brilliance by Gillian Anderson), it is laugh aloud funny and also evolves into more substance and depth (the abortion episode is genius). The sex scenes are somehow raunchy and charming and inoffensive at the same time and while ostensibly about teenagers (it feels like it is explaining contemporary teens to adults in many ways), the adults are compelling in their good and bad ways. It has been renewed for a second season, which is a gift.

January 3, 2019

What I’m listening to:

My listening choices usually refer to music, but this time I’m going with Malcolm Gladwell’s Revisionist History podcast on genius and the song Hallelujah. It tells the story of Leonard Cohen’s much-covered song Hallelujah and uses it as a lens on kinds of genius and creativity. Along the way, he brings in Picasso and Cézanne, Elvis Costello, and more. Gladwell is a good storyteller and if you love pop music, as I do, and Hallelujah, as I do (and you should), you’ll enjoy this podcast. We tend to celebrate the genius who seems inspired in the moment, creating new work like lightning strikes, but this podcast has me appreciating incremental creativity in a new way. It’s compelling and fun at the same time.

What I’m reading:

Just read Clay Christensen’s new book, The Prosperity Paradox: How Innovation Can Lift Nations Out of Poverty. This was an advance copy, so soon available. Clay is an old friend and a huge influence on how we have grown SNHU and our approach to innovation. This book is so compelling, because we know attempts at development have so often been a failure and it is often puzzling to understand why some countries with desperate poverty and huge challenges somehow come to thrive (think S. Korea, Singapore, 19th C. America), while others languish. Clay offers a fresh way of thinking about development through the lens of his research on innovation and it is compelling. I bet this book gets a lot of attention, as most of his work does. I also suspect that many in the development community will hate it, as it calls into question the approach and enormous investments we have made in an attempt to lift countries out of poverty. A provocative read and, as always, Clay is a good storyteller.

What I’m watching:

Just watched Leave No Trace and should have guessed that it was directed by Debra Granik. She did Winter’s Bone, the extraordinary movie that launched Jennifer Lawrence’s career. Similarly, this movie features an amazing young actor, Thomasin McKenzie, and visits lives lived on the margins. In this case, a veteran suffering PTSD, and his 13-year-old daughter. The movie is patient, is visually lush, and justly earned 100% on Rotten Tomatoes (I have a rule to never watch anything under 82%). Everything in this film is under control and beautifully understated (aside from the visuals) – confident acting, confident directing, and so humane. I love the lack of flashbacks, the lack of sensationalism – the movie trusts the viewer, rare in this age of bombast. A lovely film.

December 4, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spending a week in New Zealand, we had endless laughs listening to the Kiwi band, Flight of the Conchords. Lots of comedic bands are funny, but the music is only okay or worse. These guys are funny – hysterical really – and the music is great. They have an uncanny ability to parody almost any style. In both New Zealand and Australia, we found a wry sense of humor that was just delightful and no better captured than with this duo. You don’t have to be in New Zealand to enjoy them.

What I’m reading:

I don’t often reread. For two reasons: A) I have so many books on my “still to be read” pile that it seems daunting to also rereadbooks I loved before, and B) it’s because I loved them once that I’m a little afraid to read them again. That said, I was recently asked to list my favorite book of all time and I answered Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. But I don’t really know if that’s still true (and it’s an impossible question anyway – favorite book? On what day? In what mood?), so I’m rereading it and it feels like being with an old friend. It has one of my very favorite scenes ever: the card game between Levin and Kitty that leads to the proposal and his joyous walking the streets all night.

What I’m watching:

Blindspotting is billed as a buddy-comedy. Wow does that undersell it and the drama is often gripping. I loved Daveed Diggs in Hamilton, didn’t like his character in Black-ish, and think he is transcendent in this film he co-wrote with Rafael Casal, his co-star.  The film is a love song to Oakland in many ways, but also a gut-wrenching indictment of police brutality, systemic racism and bias, and gentrification. The film has the freshness and raw visceral impact of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. A great soundtrack, genre mixing, and energy make it one of my favorite movies of 2018.

October 15, 2018 

What I’m listening to:

We had the opportunity to see our favorite band, The National, live in Dallas two weeks ago. Just after watching Mistaken for Strangers, the documentary sort of about the band. So we’ve spent a lot of time going back into their earlier work, listening to songs we don’t know well, and reaffirming that their musicality, smarts, and sound are both original and astoundingly good. They did not disappoint in concert and it is a good thing their tour ended, as we might just spend all of our time and money following them around. Matt Berninger is a genius and his lead vocals kill me (and because they are in my range, I can actually sing along!). Their arrangements are profoundly good and go right to whatever brain/heart wiring that pulls one in and doesn’t let them go.

What I’m reading:

Who is Richard Powers and why have I only discovered him now, with his 12th book? Overstory is profoundly good, a book that is essential and powerful and makes me look at my everyday world in new ways. In short, a dizzying example of how powerful can be narrative in the hands of a master storyteller. I hesitate to say it’s the best environmental novel I’ve ever read (it is), because that would put this book in a category. It is surely about the natural world, but it is as much about we humans. It’s monumental and elegiac and wondrous at all once. Cancel your day’s schedule and read it now. Then plant a tree. A lot of them.

What I’m watching:

Bo Burnham wrote and directed Eighth Grade and Elsie Fisher is nothing less than amazing as its star (what’s with these new child actors; see Florida Project). It’s funny and painful and touching. It’s also the single best film treatment that I have seen of what it means to grow up in a social media shaped world. It’s a reminder that growing up is hard. Maybe harder now in a world of relentless, layered digital pressure to curate perfect lives that are far removed from the natural messy worlds and selves we actually inhabit. It’s a well-deserved 98% on Rotten Tomatoes and I wonder who dinged it for the missing 2%.

September 7, 2018

What I’m listening to:

With a cover pointing back to the Beastie Boys’ 1986 Licensed to Ill, Eminem’s quietly released Kamikaze is not my usual taste, but I’ve always admired him for his “all out there” willingness to be personal, to call people out, and his sheer genius with language. I thought Daveed Diggs could rap fast, but Eminem is supersonic at moments, and still finds room for melody. Love that he includes Joyner Lucas, whose “I’m Not Racist” gets added to the growing list of simply amazing music videos commenting on race in America. There are endless reasons why I am the least likely Eminem fan, but when no one is around to make fun of me, I’ll put it on again.

What I’m reading:

Lesley Blume’s Everyone Behaves Badly, which is the story behind Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and his time in 1920s Paris (oh, what a time – see Midnight in Paris if you haven’t already). Of course, Blume disabuses my romantic ideas of that time and place and everyone is sort of (or profoundly so) a jerk, especially…no spoiler here…Hemingway. That said, it is a compelling read and coming off the Henry James inspired prose of Mrs. Osmond, it made me appreciate more how groundbreaking was Hemingway’s modern prose style. Like his contemporary Picasso, he reinvented the art and it can be easy to forget, these decades later, how profound was the change and its impact. And it has bullfights.

What I’m watching:

Chloé Zhao’s The Rider is just exceptional. It’s filmed on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which provides a stunning landscape, and it feels like a classic western reinvented for our times. The main characters are played by the real-life people who inspired this narrative (but feels like a documentary) film. Brady Jandreau, playing himself really, owns the screen. It’s about manhood, honor codes, loss, and resilience – rendered in sensitive, nuanced, and heartfelt ways. It feels like it could be about large swaths of America today. Really powerful.

August 16, 2018

What I’m listening to:

In my Spotify Daily Mix was Percy Sledge’s When A Man Loves A Woman, one of the world’s greatest love songs. Go online and read the story of how the song was discovered and recorded. There are competing accounts, but Sledge said he improvised it after a bad breakup. It has that kind of aching spontaneity. It is another hit from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, one of the GREAT music hotbeds, along with Detroit, Nashville, and Memphis. Our February Board meeting is in Alabama and I may finally have to do the pilgrimage road trip to Muscle Shoals and then Memphis, dropping in for Sunday services at the church where Rev. Al Green still preaches and sings. If the music is all like this, I will be saved.

What I’m reading:

John Banville’s Mrs. Osmond, his homage to literary idol Henry James and an imagined sequel to James’ 1881 masterpiece Portrait of a Lady. Go online and read the first paragraph of Chapter 25. He is…profoundly good. Makes me want to never write again, since anything I attempt will feel like some other, lowly activity in comparison to his mastery of language, image, syntax. This is slow reading, every sentence to be savored.

What I’m watching:

I’ve always respected Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but we just watched the documentary RGB. It is over-the-top great and she is now one of my heroes. A superwoman in many ways and the documentary is really well done. There are lots of scenes of her speaking to crowds and the way young women, especially law students, look at her is touching.  And you can’t help but fall in love with her now late husband Marty. See this movie and be reminded of how important is the Law.

July 23, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spotify’s Summer Acoustic playlist has been on repeat quite a lot. What a fun way to listen to artists new to me, including The Paper Kites, Hollow Coves, and Fleet Foxes, as well as old favorites like Leon Bridges and Jose Gonzalez. Pretty chill when dialing back to a summer pace, dining on the screen porch or reading a book.

What I’m reading:

Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. Founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, Stevenson tells of the racial injustice (and the war on the poor our judicial system perpetuates as well) that he discovered as a young graduate from Harvard Law School and his fight to address it. It is in turn heartbreaking, enraging, and inspiring. It is also about mercy and empathy and justice that reads like a novel. Brilliant.

What I’m watching:

Fauda. We watched season one of this Israeli thriller. It was much discussed in Israel because while it focuses on an ex-special agent who comes out of retirement to track down a Palestinian terrorist, it was willing to reveal the complexity, richness, and emotions of Palestinian lives. And the occasional brutality of the Israelis. Pretty controversial stuff in Israel. Lior Raz plays Doron, the main character, and is compelling and tough and often hard to like. He’s a mess. As is the world in which he has to operate. We really liked it, and also felt guilty because while it may have been brave in its treatment of Palestinians within the Israeli context, it falls back into some tired tropes and ultimately falls short on this front.

June 11, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Like everyone else, I’m listening to Pusha T drop the mic on Drake. Okay, not really, but do I get some points for even knowing that? We all walk around with songs that immediately bring us back to a time or a place. Songs are time machines. We are coming up on Father’s Day. My own dad passed away on Father’s Day back in 1994 and I remembering dutifully getting through the wake and funeral and being strong throughout. Then, sitting alone in our kitchen, Don Henley’s The End of the Innocence came on and I lost it. When you lose a parent for the first time (most of us have two after all) we lose our innocence and in that passage, we suddenly feel adult in a new way (no matter how old we are), a longing for our own childhood, and a need to forgive and be forgiven. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. As Wordsworth reminds us in In Memoriam, there are seasons to our grief and, all these years later, this song no longer hits me in the gut, but does transport me back with loving memories of my father. I’ll play it Father’s Day.

What I’m reading:

The Fifth Season, by N. K. Jemisin. I am not a reader of fantasy or sci-fi, though I understand they can be powerful vehicles for addressing the very real challenges of the world in which we actually live. I’m not sure I know of a more vivid and gripping illustration of that fact than N. K. Jemisin’s Hugo Award winning novel The Fifth Season, first in her Broken Earth trilogy. It is astounding. It is the fantasy parallel to The Underground Railroad, my favorite recent read, a depiction of subjugation, power, casual violence, and a broken world in which our hero(s) struggle, suffer mightily, and still, somehow, give us hope. It is a tour de force book. How can someone be this good a writer? The first 30 pages pained me (always with this genre, one must learn a new, constructed world, and all of its operating physics and systems of order), and then I could not put it down. I panicked as I neared the end, not wanting to finish the book, and quickly ordered the Obelisk Gate, the second novel in the trilogy, and I can tell you now that I’ll be spending some goodly portion of my weekend in Jemisin’s other world.

What I’m watching:

The NBA Finals and perhaps the best basketball player of this generation. I’ve come to deeply respect LeBron James as a person, a force for social good, and now as an extraordinary player at the peak of his powers. His superhuman play during the NBA playoffs now ranks with the all-time greats, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, MJ, Kobe, and the demi-god that was Bill Russell. That his Cavs lost in a 4-game sweep is no surprise. It was a mediocre team being carried on the wide shoulders of James (and matched against one of the greatest teams ever, the Warriors, and the Harry Potter of basketball, Steph Curry) and, in some strange way, his greatness is amplified by the contrast with the rest of his team. It was a great run.

May 24, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I’ve always liked Alicia Keys and admired her social activism, but I am hooked on her last album Here. This feels like an album finally commensurate with her anger, activism, hope, and grit. More R&B and Hip Hop than is typical for her, I think this album moves into an echelon inhabited by a Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On or Beyonce’s Formation. Social activism and outrage rarely make great novels, but they often fuel great popular music. Here is a terrific example.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad may be close to a flawless novel. Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer, it chronicles the lives of two runaway slaves, Cora and Caeser, as they try to escape the hell of plantation life in Georgia.  It is an often searing novel and Cora is one of the great heroes of American literature. I would make this mandatory reading in every high school in America, especially in light of the absurd revisionist narratives of “happy and well cared for” slaves. This is a genuinely great novel, one of the best I’ve read, the magical realism and conflating of time periods lifts it to another realm of social commentary, relevance, and a blazing indictment of America’s Original Sin, for which we remain unabsolved.

What I’m watching:

I thought I knew about The Pentagon Papers, but The Post, a real-life political thriller from Steven Spielberg taught me a lot, features some of our greatest actors, and is so timely given the assault on our democratic institutions and with a presidency out of control. It is a reminder that a free and fearless press is a powerful part of our democracy, always among the first targets of despots everywhere. The story revolves around the legendary Post owner and D.C. doyenne, Katharine Graham. I had the opportunity to see her son, Don Graham, right after he saw the film, and he raved about Meryl Streep’s portrayal of his mother. Liked it a lot more than I expected.

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan.  Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news. 

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

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