#but nothing has changed in my environment. it’s still the same level of dust. so why.. why would i no longer be coughing

[fingertipsmp3]

Thinking some thoughts.

[kareofbears]

just one time (just one time) ch.2

“I heard you out and I’m still unsure why you’re even doing this.” Nanami pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose, peering down at the planner in his hand. “Or rather, why you insist on having me involved.”

A training camp for wayward children, Gojo had called it, gesticulating widely with his long arms, white hair bouncing with passion.

—

Or, Gojo and Nanami take it upon themselves to keep an eye on the first years during summer vacation without realizing that the first years are the ones keeping an eye on them.

read on ao3 or below the cut

It’s to be expected, but it still befuddles Nanami that a teacher doesn’t have any method of organization for his students.

“Where’s your desk?” Nanami asks him.

“Desk?” Gojo stares up at the ceiling, genuinely inquisitive. “I’m assuming in my office?”

“Okay.” There’s a pause where Nanami expects him to elaborate. When Gojo doesn’t, “Where’s your office?”

When Gojo stares up at the ceiling again, Nanami leaves, pulling up Principal Yaga’s phone number. A few hours later, Nanami gets the spare key to Gojo’s old office, every surface thick with layers upon layers of dust. Indeed, there's a large desk, clearly one that hasn't been used for much too long, but it's huge and recognizes a mug with a cheery new teacher! printed on the side, filled with various stationery items. He’ll ignore that—he's too picky to use giveaway pens.

Window thrown open, leaving him with a pleasantly bright view of the gardens, he gets to work. Throwing a pair of rubber gloves on, glasses neatly put aside, he spends the rest of the afternoon deep cleaning, phone blessedly turned on silent. One month or not, Nanami refuses to work in an unkempt environment.

With nothing but the sound of a hard brush scrubbing on wooden floors, he does what he always does when he has a fraction of free time. He thinks.

There’s logistics. A lot of it. All of which Gojo decidedly kept from him, stemming from thoughtlessness or simple apathy. Principal Yaga asked him if he’s decided on if he’s taking a room for the duration of the month, to which Nanami had politely and immediately declined. Teachers are offered room and board at Jujutsu Tech, but the school also doesn’t get a lot of teachers. He’s seen what the lodgings look like. There are only a handful of rooms available and given how his luck is going these days, he’ll have to share a wall with Gojo. At this moment, that does sound like his own personal version of hell.

And he’s not a teacher. When he firmly corrected Yaga of the fact, he was waved off.

“You deserve some slack too, Nanami. For old time’s sake.”

Old time’s sake.

The day is too bright and pleasant to go down that line of thinking

So he falls back to thinking about Yuji instead, as usual. He’s pleased to see how happy he is at school and with friends, learning in a safe, school environment. Thinks about how he can improve said school environment—already he has a notebook of ideas, from all the way back when he was the one attending Jujutsu Tech.

The overlap between his time in Jujutsu Tech as a student and as a camp counselor (for lack of a better phrase) is far and in-between. A lot has changed since then, but the one thing that undoubtedly stayed the same—

The wood of the brush creaks in his palm as he suppresses a sigh.

It was to be expected.

He’s known Gojo Satoru since they were teenagers. Gojo was born not with power, but as power. SIngle-handedly, he restructured the jujutsu world down to its atoms, smashed the pre-existing hierarchy and stitched together a new fabric of reality. It's the world's biggest blessing that despite it all, his heart remains undoubtedly good. If he became a curse user…the world would end. Simple as that. Undoubtedly and unquestionably.

But.

With that level of power, that level of confidence, it lets you cut a lot of corners to the point that the paper is a perfect circle. He's grown a little bit since their youth, but he still remains arrogant. Childish. Ultimately immature. And to think that he handles the future of Jujutsu sorcery with that same callous attitude is worrying. He trusts Gojo, has no choice but to trust Gojo like the rest of the society does. But it’s a little different now, trying to trust him as a teacher, when Itadori is on the line.

It feels like everything is different now that Itadori is on the line.

Mulling over it as he gets on his feet, wondering if he can find a duster anywhere on campusHe trusts Gojo. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he has any fondness for him.

It takes a few more hours. As the warm orange glow of the sunset begins to wash over the office, he lets himself collapse into the comfy chair in the corner of the office, freshly fluffed and feeling his joints ache slightly as he sinks into the plush of the seat. He really should get into the habit of stretching more. A cool breeze flows through the curtains as he lets himself relax and enjoy the scent of a clean room and the fruits of his labor.

Reluctantly, he picks up his phone once more. Brows pulling into a frown, he reads the subject of the email:

Mission! Announcement!! Meet tomorrow in class at 8am SHARP! swimsuit MANDATORY

When he clicks on the notification, he finds that the body of the email is completely empty. For a horrifying second, he wonders if Gojo has somehow reached the age of 28 without knowing how to properly send an email. Silently putting his phone down, he lets his eyes close and ponders over feeling regret for agreeing to this.

His phone chimes once, twice more. Picking it up, he sees enthusiastic replies from both Kugisaki and Itadori, with a lukewarm Read. from Fushiguro.

He can’t stop the fond smile that spreads as he settles in to read their responses. At least the chair is comfortable.

—

Nanami didn’t have any expectations, but he’s disappointed in himself for not realizing it sooner.

“Heads up!”

He tilts his head out of the way, feeling the smooth plastic of a beach volleyball graze his ear, grimacing as sand tickles his cheek.

“Sorry, Nanami-san,” Kugisaki calls out apologetically, tone sincere even though she’s grinning wide. She tilts the brim of her bright pink sun hat so that she can properly meet his eye. “My teammate sucks.”

Fushiguro only shrugs in response, expression exactly as stoic on a beach as it normally is in a classroom. “Yeah.”

“More passion!” Kugsaki yells.

“Yeah���?”

Nanami leans backwards and lights rolls the ball towards them as they continue to bicker, and he watches from underneath the shade of the big umbrella that Gojo had propped up for all of them. My kids are too young to have wrinkles.

He digs his heel into the soft sand, his beige slacks rolled up to his knees as he takes in his surroundings. Had he known where they were going, he probably would have opted out of office wear for once.

It turns out the reason why they had to meet up so early in the day was so they could secure a decent spot at the beach, which they got in flying colors. They’re close enough to the water without having to trek too far, but enough distance away from the crowds that it feels semi-private. Sitting on a wide blanket with his shoes neatly tucked away so it wouldn’t get sprayed in sand, Nanami watches Fushiguro, Kugisaki, and Gojo attempt an uncoordinated rally of skirmish volleyball, with Gojo using the slightest hint of cursed energy the ball strays too far from his students.

“Not joining?” he asks. Turning his head, he suppresses a sigh as Itadori idly plays with the sand from the other side of the beach towel, body faced away from Nanami, silent. “Itadori-kun, you know how I feel about the silent treatment.”

Itadori cranes his neck to face him with squinting eyes, body still turned away stubbornly. “No, I’m not joining.”

“And why aren’t you joining?” He has an inkling as to why, but he wants to hear it from him.

Curling tighter in on himself, Itadori’s chin juts out childishly. “You kept a secret from me.”

“It wasn’t a secret, it was a surprise,” he corrects him patiently. He pauses, before adding, “I’m sorry I kept it from you. Like Gojo-san said, I wanted you to be shocked. I didn’t realize you’d be upset by it.”

“And you won’t do it again?”

“If you don’t want me to, then no, I won’t do it again.”

Defrosting immediately, Itadori grins and rolls horizontally until he’s lying next to Nanami, all grumpiness gone, wrinkling the towel along the way. He props his chin up on his palm, feet kicking in the air. “Honestly, it was such a good surprise.”

Nanami gives him a look. “Then why were you in a bad mood?” he asks, reaching over to smooth out the towel. “You weren’t upset about this yesterday.”

“Of course I’d be happy at the moment. You’re in Jujutsu Tech as my teacher!” He almost corrects him before just letting Itadori speak. “But when I thought about it…I don’t know. I didn’t like that.”

“Me keeping secrets from you?”

He rubs the back of his neck, nodding. “Gah, I know I’m being kinda weird about it. it just felt weird not knowing you, Nanamin.”

“But there’s plenty of things you don’t know about me.” He keeps his voice steady, trying to understand where he’s coming from. Itadori gets like this sometimes. Sometimes the stone that is Itadori Yuji is less of a shining diamond and more of a sinking rock that Nanami has to dive for before it hits the ocean bed.

“Not when it’s me related,” Itadori scoffs, like it’s obvious. “You tell me everything, even when it’s kinda rude.”

He doesn’t deny it. “And you’re no longer upset, yes?”

Itadori thinks for a second. “Nah,” he relents, shoving his hand into the sand and Nanami watches the grain trickle from his fingertips. “How can I be mad? I mean—“ yanking his hand back from the sand to gesticulate, Nanami doesn’t find himself minding when grains get all over his dress shirt. He’ll just have to be thorough with laundry later today. “My friends are over there, my teacher is playing beach volleyball with them, of all things. It’s summer.” Elbowing Nanami’s calf, “You’re here. It’s like I’m a normal kid, having a normal summer.” He closes his eyes, and he looks much, much younger like this. “It’s nice.”

The sound of the waves crashing on the shore fills in the peaceful silence between them. “If you’re a normal child, you should consider focusing on your studies more. Go to cram school. Perhaps apply for a part-time job.”

Itadori groans. “Can’t you just let me have fun?”

“Gaining financial stability from a young age is fun. You’d have the option to do whatever you’d like.” The idea fills him with unexpected calm. Itadori, older, more settled in himself, pursuing a career in something he’s passionate about. Or maybe it’s just the idea that he’ll reach an age where he’s old enough to think about his future beyond the next mission.

“I’m a 15 year old who fights curses and only passes algebra if Gojo-sensei is feeling really nice during exam day,” he laughs. “There’s not much I could do.”

Nanami looks at him. “If you believe even for a second that your abilities are limited to punching and kicking, I may have to express my regrets for being an adult who’s failed you.”

Seeming to sense the change, Itadori sits up hurriedly. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he says.

“I know it’s not,” he agrees, still waiting for an explanation. “Because I didn’t teach you to think like that.”

Itadori shifts in his place, picking at the fabric of the towel. “It’s not anything deep,” he says, going for casual and overshooting. “I’m just saying that I’m not that academic or anything. I’m not good at this whole Jujutsu thing yet, but I’m okay when it comes to fighting.” Nanami wants to correct him—the idea that Itadori’s only talent is related to fighting and physical prowess, but he strongly disagrees. It may be part of his talents, but his real gift is his heart. The ability to stay so consistent to his truest self, despite it all. Perhaps, it’s the reason why he can host the King of Curses. “But yeah, I guess it’s hard to imagine what else I could do. I just don’t know how I can translate that into…an adult thing.”

“That is the beauty of youth, Itadori-kun,” he replies. “This is when you find out what else you can do.” At the look of fear and apprehension on Yuji’s face, Nanami almost cracks a smile. This boy fights curses and bleeds without flinching, yet considering his own possible growth is enough to still him. “No need to overcomplicate it. What do you like?”

“What do I like…” Voice trailing off, Yuji looks around, like he’ll find the answer in the ocean waves or the squawking bird that flies by them. Finally, his eyes settle in front of him, where Kugisaki faceplants and falls directly into Fushiguro, Gojo pointing and laughing like the bully that he is. “I like my friends. Can I make money with that?”

Suddenly, Itadori’s eyes widened, and he could almost see the light bulb blink above his head. “I can make money with that.”

Just as he was about to ask for clarification—asking friends for money isn’t a reliable source of income—Gojo’s voice rings out. “Yuji! Join my team or I’ll fail you.”

“Put him on my side!” Kugsaki argues.

“I’ll fail you, too.” Gojo catches Nanami’s eye and winks from above his sunglasses, foregoing the usual blindfold today. “Your Nanami-sensei can back me up on that.”

“No, I will not.” Not a sensei.

“Coming!” Itadori yells back, scrambling on his feet. “See you later, Nanamin. Hey, let me borrow a tie later, okay?”

Itadori joins them without waiting for his response. That’s fine. They both know the answer will always be yes.

—

Money’s never been high on his priority list, but he does like the idea of more than dust motes in his wallet.

Itadori takes a deep breath, trying to calm the jitters in his chest by focusing on the warmth of the morning sun caressing his cheek. He’s sitting in the courtyard in front of a table that he found in an unused classroom on a stool that he had accidentally kicked over on his way there. With a composing nod, he straightens his borrowed tie that he just knotted together clumsily, reaches towards the edge of the table, and flips the sign:

OPEN FOR BUSINESS.

“Wow,” a voice coos behind him immediately, and Itadori doesn’t jump anymore. Gojo’s habit of simply appearing has lost its shock value. “Are you an entrepreneur, Yuji-kun? Should I invest in your company? Where do I sign?”

“Sensei,” he turns his head, craning his neck up to look at Gojo, eyes squinting against the sun’s rays. “Do you want to be my first customer?”

“Of course.” Moving opposite to Itadori, Gojo folds his knees in tightly to sit on the short stool, long limbs neatly folding in on itself. “And what exactly am I purchasing?”

“My advice—” Itadori starts, but Gojo gestures for him to come closer. Obediently, he obliges, and Gojo reaches forward to redo his tie. “My advice. Nanamin said I should get a job that I like, and at first I thought ‘I don’t really like a whole lot of things,’ but then I realized I like talking!”

“That you do,” Gojo placates. “Nanami said that? He doesn’t even like his job. Or the concept of any job.” Smoothing down the expertly-knotted tie, he leans back. “If you need money, I can give you an allowance. Megumi gets one.”

“Yeah, but—” Itadori waves him off. “That’s different.”

My sponsor, Fushiguro tells him once, begrudgingly. It’s one of those topics that have always come up in odd moments but Itadori just found it’s not really his business to ask. Fushiguro is a private guy, and even though Gojo would probably be more than happy to go in-depth about the subject, all Itadori needs to know is that they’ve known each other much longer than an average first-year would know their teacher. If it’s anything like what Itadori has with Nanami, then he knows everything he needs to know.

“You want to make your own way? I support it! Kids these days are so inventive.” Gojo pokes at the empty glass jar on the table. “Give me advice then.”

“Uh,” Itadori stalls, a little flustered under Gojo’s undivided attention when it’s only his first day on the job. For a moment, he feels a little silly. What advice can he give Gojo-sensei? He probably already knows everything in the world. “Advice on what?”

“How about…” Gojo hums, long and inquisitive, and Itadori represses the urge to loosen his tie. “Where should I go for lunch today?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, relaxing. It’s an easy out, the sturdiest of olive branches. Aside from movies, this is probably what he can answer the best. “Do you want something quick, fancy? Nearby, or warpable, maybe? I guess they’re all warpable, but I still don’t really understand how you do that.”

“How about your favorite?”

“My favorite?” Itadori laughs. “I wouldn’t recommend that one to anyone, sensei. It’s sort of run down. But the owner likes me. She gives me toppings for free.”

“Toppings?” Gojo asks. “Ice cream?”

“He’s talking about the hot dog stall down four blocks from here,” a voice from behind Itadori replies, and he feels himself grin. “Unfortunately, Itadori-kun’s taste buds have yet to evolve from when he was seven years old.”

“Good morning,” he greets, craning his neck back.

“Good morning. Is this what you wanted my tie for?” The usual monotone is present, but Itadori catches the way Nanami glances downwards. “You tied it well.”

“Thank you,” Gojo drawls, kicking his feet up so it’s propped up on the table, hands behind his head and lazy grin spreading. “No good morning for me?”

The monotone is immediately replaced with a thin sheen of iciness. “Hello, Gojo-san.”

Itadori doesn’t bother watching his fascination, eyes bouncing back and forth like a tennis match. He looks up to both Gojo and Nanami almost religiously, and takes their words to heart every single time, but for very different reasons. Where he can rely on Gojo to push him to his limits and training, Nanami’s there to make sure he doesn’t get to the point of limping afterwards. Where Gojo can be hidden behind layers of riddles that leave him dizzy and scratching his head, Nanami is so straight-forward that he feels practically winded afterwards. They’re the only reason why he’s improved so much despite being new to the Jujutsu world, and for that, Itadori will be forever grateful.

But despite his reverence towards both of them, the animosity crackles so intensely that he almost has to shield his eyes from it.

He doesn’t let it get to him, though. “So, yeah, I like hot dogs,” he finishes.

“I’ll have to try it sometime,” Gojo says. Straightening up, he pulls out his wallet—bright yellow, decorated with cartoon characters and peeling stickers— and slides a thousand yen bill into the jar. “Thanks, Yuji-kun.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, you can’t give me that—”

“He’s right.” Nanami leans over Itadori’s shoulder. “That’s too low.”

“Nanamin,” he shakes his head. A couple of hundred coins yet. Pocket change. That’s all he was really expecting, if anything at all. “It’s—”

“He just started,” Gojo replies. “I won’t spoil him. When he continues, then it’ll go higher. Like a normal job.”

“He’d have time to have a normal job if he wasn’t stuck in Jujutsu Tech for the summer.”

There’s a sharpness there that Itadori wasn’t expecting, and for a moment, it catches him off guard. A sneaky glance at Gojo, however, doesn’t tell him a thing.

A beat passes.

“Class is starting soon.” Nanami takes out his own wallet—deep brown, worn leather— and slides a five thousand yen note into the jar before turning. “I’ll see you both there.”

When he leaves, Gojo gets up, stretching. “We should get going,” he says cheerfully. Lifting Itadori by the hoodie, he sets him on his feet. “Are we feeling hot dogs for lunch?”

“Sure,” he says belatedly, distracted. Before he follows Gojo up to the classroom, he quickly flips the sign and snags the jar, not quite sure how to interpret his first day at work.

CLOSED FOR BUSINESS.

[creatingnikki]

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out. 

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices. 

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make. 

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it! 

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up. 

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday. 

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same. 

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people. 

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful. 

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away. 

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you. 

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs. 

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight. 

[ancientphantom]

So, in some branches of vampire folklore, they can change their appearance, but not permanently - for example, if a vampire got a tattoo or a haircut, they’d wake up the next morning with the hair regrown or the skin unmarked, generally on the theory that supernatural healing doesn’t know the difference between someone stabbing you a bunch when you didn’t ask them to vs. when you did. You’re eternally locked into your appearance, you probably have angsty thoughts about it, blah blah blah.

However. If that’s true, nothing is stopping vampires from getting haircuts. I imagine you’d get haircuts a lot more, actually, because you could literally do a full style for every outfit without having to wait for it to grow back out afterward. Which means there’s a lot of vampire hair getting cut off.

Now, normally vampires in these sorts of universes either turn to ash/dust when they die, or they revert to the level of decay they’d be at if they hadn’t become vampires, which usually means really old ones turn into bone dust or skeletons, younger ones might still be putrid corpses, etc. And usually, decapitated body parts get the same treatment, since once cut off they aren’t “part” of the vampire’s body anymore.

But. Hair doesn’t decay. Or, okay, it does decay, but not nearly as quickly or easily as flesh and even bone. Hair and teeth and nails stick around forever. Wet environments can make them break down more quickly, but hair can literally still be just fine millennia later, which we know because we have mummies who still have theirs.

So my question is this: how much of the world’s excess of waste hair and fingernail clippings is coming from vampires in this sort of fantasy setting? It has to be a ridiculously disproportionate number. They’re probably even contributing extra bones and shit that will freak out archaeologists later whenever they get inconveniently decapitated for a second. Humans are out here contributing a few heads of hair and a few buckets of nails over their lifetimes, but vampires are creating an ENDLESS SUPPLY OF SUPERNATURAL HAIR TUMBLEWEEDS.

This cannot be good for the environment. Also, imagine being the vampire who goes to one of those museums where someone has preserved an ancient lock of hair and being like... what the fuck. That’s part of my body. I’m legally 1/89706th owned by the museum foundation.

[hell-yeah-destiny]

So. Sun's out huh. Time to overthink this.

Had a conversation with my dad, an astrophysicist and lots of thoughts on my own.

First of all, if the sun was gone just like that everything that was circling it would just continue on it's path so our solar system pretty much would go nyoom in every direction. Fun.

That obvs didn't happen so it's gravity is still there... sort of? Imagine sun's out but it's mass is still there. Some effects that come to mind? (Edit: ok, the sun is only gone in the last city. It's there everywhere else, I'm just an idiot. Still interesting to think abou the effects of it beeing gone everywhere)

Yeah so it would be dark. BUT unlike we see in the game the moon wouldn't shine anymore. Unless the hive's green light is bright enough. Creepy.

Temperature drops. Like it does in the night but there's no point at which it would warm up again because guess what, no days. (Oh boy, my sleep rythm would be even more broke than it already is). So it would get ever colder - how fast though? Depends on how cloudy it is because clouds keep the warmth in. This is why cloudy nights are usually warmer than starry nights. So let's assume that temperature drops an average of 10°C during one night, that would make 20°C per day although I doubt that it would be linear, just to have some numbers to play with though. That would go on for a few days, maybe 3 - 4 when it comes closer to the lowest it would get. Remember earths core is very hot? Yeah that would balance it out at some point. Also it will take a while for all that water to cool down and there will be some clouds which brings me to the next point:

Clouds. Yes at first but when it get's cold enough all that will come down and no water will be left in the air. No more clouds when it's too cold. And that means it will cool down faster. Great, you better have a solar light wielding friend or electricity bills are going to look funny. Even more so than they already will.

More electricity needed. Y'know. It's dark all the time now and people need light although we'd get used to it beeing dark in general like we do in the night anyway. That means max. pupil extension plus heightened production for the cones in our eyes that let us see in darker environments. Your awoken or exo friend's eyes are gonna be blinding.

No wind! Wind exists because our atmosphere get's warmed up and cools down. Without sun there's only cooling down. No circulation.

Atmosphere collapses. Yeay. The stuff we breathe is more than just oxygen (that would kill us) and all those different types of gas freeze at different temperatures. So it would separate the gasses during the cooling process and at some point the mixture would not be good for people to breathe. And that is ignoring the fact that breathing super cold air is generally a bad idea.

Which brings me to another fun point. So. Stuff get's cold = it get's smaller. Most extreme would be gas. Remember that there's a hecking lot of gas on Jupiter and Saturn? Yeah they'd shrink to a size comparable to earth. Jupiter. Earth. That's... a lot. Mass would be the same though so it shouldn't affect Jupiters moons to a messurable degree.

With the only light source beeing our Milky way and stars I wondered whether Europa would be a bit brighter due to bright surfaces reflecting more light. It wouldn't do much though because there's not that much to reflect. There is no atmospheric shimmer (except if it now has an atmopshere due to the traveler but that would do funny things due to it beeing really damn cold already) and no zodiacal light in general (interplanetary dust that the sun shines at. Would there be a sun that shone at it.) so it really is just the night sky reflecting off of snow and ice so if someone wants to calculate that, please go ahead and let me know.

I'm not even going to start on the effect on plant life and the general biological effects. Like humans need sunlight to produce stuff like Vitamin D. Plants need light. That kinda stuff.

I did not take the traveler into account for this. Does it keep the temperature at level? The plants growing? Humans healthy? Does it change energy levels of it's surroundings or how exactly does it terraform planets? Does it do nothing?

So these are my thoughts on that. Where was I going with this? Nowhere, it is what it started out as; a journey into my insanity.

[sk-lumen]

I feel that I am on the cusp of great change, but something is holding me back that I can't let go of because I don't know what it is. From since I can remember, most of my 'problems' have come from not being able to love or be loved. How do I combat this?

Hi anon,

I'm happy to hear you're ready to make a huge change in your life. Whatever your level up journey has been so far, know that I'm proud of you. Making big changes is not easy, because let's be honest, it requires a certain degree of mindfulness and owning up to where you are in life. But it's a necessity to review what is, so you can decide where you want to go from there.

From what you mentioned, there may be a lot to unpack, but the important thing is you've already made the first step - choosing to heal, to recover, to get better.

"Not being able to love or be loved" is not a light matter, and I empathize with that. There are so many reasons or causes for this, but the good news is, everything you need is at your disposal: it starts with you. It starts with shaking the dust off your inner world and stirring up any limiting or toxic beliefs. By asking yourself deep questions which delve into the core of any childhood memories, wounds, traumas or anything else.

Questions like...

When was the last time you felt really loved, really seen and appreciated?

Do you feel worthy of healthy, deep, fulfilling love? If not, then why not?

Do you find yourself unconsciously sabotaging your relationships, rocking the boat just when it gets really good? Perhaps it's your subconscious' way of finding itself in new, uncomfortable environment (that being a healthy relationship) and, in a half-panic to steer the situation into familiar grounds, it sabotages everything. At the same time, it now proves your internal/mental belief system (of not having/deserving healthy relationships) and continues to validate them in this vicious cycle. And the key to overcome any vicious cycle, is to break it. Break the patterns, shift your mindset, reprogram your belief system.

What is “familiar” for you in terms of a relationship? Is it a list of mostly negative aspects? Then it may be time that you to change your mindset about what is familiar (=safe, good) with positive aspects that actually builds a healthy relationship.

Yes, healing starts with mindfulness and self-awareness as the first step, but then you need to practice it. I'm not going to sugarcoat the journey of self love as some glamorous, cotton-candy filled process (although incorporating pink into your environment does help, not gonna lie). It’s not just fancy facemasks and treating yourself. That’s just the glamorous side.

Self love practices can be actual selfcare practices:

By taking care of yourself, day by day, you begin to see your own beauty and appreciate all that you are.

By taking the time each day to nourish your body with healthy, hearty meals that keeps you strong and vibrant with vitality; by taking the time to brush your hair, lotion your body, brush your teeth, or indulge in further skincare regimes.

By looking out for your future self by doing things you don't feel like doing but which you know will make you feel better afterwards (just getting out of bed and taking a shower, when you may be feel depressed or anxious or just drained of energy); or even just by wiping down the kitchen surfaces, putting away any household clutter, and preparing your outfit for the morning after... The you from next morning will feel so much better to wake up to a clean, tidy home and outfit ready to go, right?

All these things add up. Day by day, it builds on your bond with yourself.

It helps you find safety within, because you realize you'll always have your own back.

It helps you find peace within, because you realize everything you need is already within you, those things you're chasing, none of them are essential to inner fulfillment. That cute person thinking you’re hot? Falls short next to finding that all-encompassing relief of feeling fully comfortable in your own body.

It helps you develop trust within, as you can now trust the most important person in your life - yourself, because you're loyal and authentic to yourself and honor your boundaries, your fears, your needs. When you make sure you're priority nr. 1, you'll be at ease because you'll never have to worry about being abandoned, or not being validated or appreciated through external forces. When you take care of your needs from the getgo, you step out into the world as a whole being, and not a half missing its other half.

It helps you find love within yourself most importantly, and at long last, you'll stop chasing it everywhere outside of you, because you'll realize what you really need to fill that emptiness within, is already within you - your own acceptance, your own respect and appreciation.

Darling, you're absolutely worthy of love!

If you don't believe it, write down "I'm lovable" every day. State it out loud every morning and day and night until it's engrained in your mind.

Use all of these habits and practices to your benefit. Journaling, meditating, mindfulness. Healing selfcare practices. Selflove begins with you taking care of you. If nothing else, it begins with you saying "yes, I accept that I'm lovable and worthy of being loved in my fullness". Yes, it begins with you, but you don't have to walk this path alone. You can accept help from friends and family, from specialists, just keep in mind that your healing is your responsibility first and foremost, not anyone else's. Other people can help on this path, and you can and should let them because they love you and only want to help you. But keep in mind they, too, are responsible for their own healing and working through their challenges and limiting beliefs.

I mention this because codependency and projecting onto other people are not the foundation for a healthy relationship, on the contrary. Because by projecting onto other people in a relationship, we are essentially expecting them to fix our issues, heal our wounds, fill the emptiness in us, make everything better in our place. We put our whole life's burden onto them, and then we wonder why the relationship crashes and burns, turns toxic, or leaves us unfulfilled. Why? Because the solution is believed to be in the external world, outside ourselves, anywhere else except ourselves. Because in a world where everybody rejects accountability for their own healing, the burden falls always on "the other person", and you can see why it can turn unhealthy fast. However, in a world where we strive to take charge of our healing journey, we lay the foundations for our own healing. It begins with each of us.

Note: I'm not licensed to offer specialised advice. For that, I would heartily recommend a specialist such as a therapist. Here and now, I want to make clear that there is nothing taboo, unusual, embarrassing or strange about reaching out to therapists. In fact, I genuinely believe if everyone had a therapist, the world would 200% be a happier place, because we'd stop just bottling every damn thing inside, you know? A specialist can help with listening, with providing clarity over your whole life, with forming accountability for your own choices, and so much more. They can help realign your thought patterns, your beliefs which, as we age, get so engrained and fixed in our heads, that it gets harder (yet still possible) to budge and change.

I hope these gentle words offer some comfort, and help you in your journey of healing. Just remember, you’re not alone okay? And if anyone thinks you’re not lovable, just throw this post in their face, because if Lumen says you’re lovable then you better damn believe you’re lovable. *mic drop*

Much love, -𝓛𝓾𝓶𝓮𝓷

[some-dr-writings]

Gundham Tanaka x Reader One-shot: First Date

Winter always had this captivating beauty about it. A lonely kind of beauty, so distant yet distinct. Nothing was quite like just looking out the window at the snowy mountain forest off in the horizon. Winter break had come and most life fled from the place, returning to their families or simply hid in their dens, like you. With a mostly empty cup of hot coco in hand you looked out that open window as if in a daze. A breeze flew past making the sharp contrast between the cool it brought and the hot cup more apparent. Without realizing it you pulled the mug just a bit closer to your chest, wishing for more of that warmth.

Taking a sip from it, something caught your gaze. Out in the white that distinctive berry purple scarf and long black coat leaped out, like adding a drop of lemon juice to a mild milk tea. “Ice Lord Tanaka, returning to the dorms already?” It was odd for the man to be returning to the dorms in the morning hours. It always took so much time and effort to properly tend to his creatures that he hardly had time for much else. “Ah, so the watcher of endless shadows has risen to search this low domain for a change. The demon beasts have taken to laying dormant in the new creeping polar environs that all but consumed this land.” “Huh, I guess you don’t have much to do with most of them hibernating.” Gundham simply nodded drawing your attention to his scarf. There was no movement whatsoever. “Even the Dark Devas?” “Indeed, they have too.”

“Hey, Dark Lord, want some hot coco?” “Hmm, I see no reason to decline such an offer.”

Gundham leaned against the wall beside your window as you prepared him a drink. At first glance not many would assume the Super High School Breeder and Super High School Level Astronomer would be friends but you two were. You both were very introverted, not finding much stimulation from being with too many others or in loud situations, you two kept to yourselves. Ironically that’s likely what magnetized you to one another. You didn’t need to talk to enjoy the other’s company. There was no need to fill the air with meaningless noise. You never had ‘how’s the weather’ kind of conversations, when you spoke there was always a specific purpose behind it.

Funny thing, the first time you two met you never spoke. You had set up your telescope and were star gazing when you heard an owl. Not thinking much of it you looked though that telescope, having an uncharacteristically difficult time finding Saturn. Moments later you heard some rustling. Finally taking a look behind yourself you saw a man you’d come to learn was called Gundham, wearing a big, thick glove with an owl perched on it. Minding your own business, you went about readjusting your telescope. And there you two stood, Gundham tending to the owl and you internally cheering having finally found that planet. Hearing another hoot, you were surprised it was so close. The man was beside you and the owl perched on his arm kept looking at you. Cautiously the bird was held out to you. Confused yet intrigued you gently held up a hand and pet the bird on the head with the back of your fingers. It’s feathers seemed to fluff out making the creature look even softer than it actually was. Gundham’s eyes slightly widened in surprise seeing the creature’s reaction before pulling his arm back. Facing out into the distance Gundham then threw up his arm, sending the owl flying, never to be seen again. Reaching into a small bag you had beside you, you pulled out a pair of binoculars and passed them to Gundham so he could watch it leave just a few moments longer, even in the far distance. After some time of looking through it, Gundham passed the binoculars back to you. Placing them away you took a few steps back and gestured to the telescope. After a moment of hesitation Gundham looked through it. Much time was spent showing him a few more planets a couple of stars. Soon though you and Gundham parted ways the same way you met. Wordlessly as you looked to the sky and he the horizon.

“So, what are you going to do now?” “That, in fact, was what I was pondering myself till you summoned me.” “Huh… Well, if you have nothing better to do, why don’t we go on a date?” Suddenly loud stifled coughing erupted from Gundham as his entire face flushed such a velvety rose pink. Perhaps you should not have asked that as he was mid-sip. When his coughing fit was over you simply passed him a handful of napkins in case he splashed hot coco on himself in the momentary chaos. “You okay there, buddy?” “I, t-the Supreme Overlord of Ice, am fine! I am unflappable!” “Uh-huh, suuuuure.” “Don’t take such a dry tone with me!” “Okay, okay. Sorry.” A light chuckle bubbled up from deep in your chest seeing a light steam radiate off the Dark Lord’s still flushed face. “But, seriously though. Let’s go on a date. It seems neither of us have anything better to do today, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t mind the idea of being partners. You’re my closest friend, we get along great, any good romantic relationship needs a stable base, I can’t see a more stable base than being good friends, and you’re cute. But if you don’t want to that’s A-Okay.” “Seeker of the Void, you should not speak of partaking in courting rituals so lightly! You do realize you are speaking with the one who shall soon rule this world, Gundham Tanaka, the Overlord of Ice!” “Yeah, I realize that.” Gundham simply stared at you, his mind momentarily blanking. “C-courting me shall be no easy task! Do you truly wish to even attempt such an endeavor?” “Well, if the date doesn’t go well or feels like every other time we hang out, we can just pretend this never happened.” “No. If you’ve the courage to face me and say such things you shall not yield! Prepare you soul for the clash of a lifetime! If you’ve the power to see through your words and fight to the end, I shall await for your challenge at the gates of this confined land.” With that said he placed his mug on the windowsill and walked away.

“… huh.” After placing the mugs on the small coffee table in your room you shut the window… A bright red dusted your cheeks as the situation really sunk in. Flopping onto your bed you buried your face into a pillow. Yes, you had a crush on the Dark Lord for a long time, but you didn’t think he’d accept! You were just saying it casually to test the waters! Oh, curse how you always got so fixated on things and just can’t let go! You weren’t mentally prepared to already be doing this! You didn’t even have a plan! What were you going to do!? A movie? Shopping? What!? What do people do on dates anyway!? You never dated before, the only things you knew about dating were the little you heard from your classmates and the romantic subplots you’ve seen on T.V. shows and movies!

The icy wind blew past causing Gundham to tug even more at his scarf.  A tinge of pink still softly dusted his cheeks since that proposal was made. A ‘date’… Even just merely thinking of that simple word forced his heart to pitter-patter faster and faster. How pitiful that a mere word could draw such a reaction from him. He was Gundham Tanaka and…. and… a-and… he had no idea what he was doing! But it was fine, it was going to be just fine. He was just going to hang out with you! It was fine! Right!? Maybe!? Like, sure, Gundham often found himself wishing you were by his side almost all the time, and the thought of going on simple little adventures like a date were all he dreamed of as of late, so doing for real should be fine, right!? He was getting the chance to do something he wanted! “BE STILL MY FLUTTERING HEART!” Who was he kidding, he was an absolute mess.

The sound of speeding foot falls crunching against snow rang out as you raced towards the breeder. “H-hey, Tanaka. So, is there anything you want to do?” “… You are the one who initiated this, I assumed you would have provided the ideas. Though, your consideration for my thoughts are appreciated.” “Well, if you don’t have any, I was thinking we could go for a walk at a park, maybe go shopping and watch a movie, take a nap, whatever we feel like really, oh and if we’re somehow lucky enough and the weather clears up, we could see a comet tonight! It’ll be extra gorgeous since it’s winter! In winter there’s less moisture in the air so the sky is more crisp and clear than at any other time! Though there are often clouds obscuring the view in this area so, it’ll be a gamble if we get to see much in the first place.” “Ah, go with our instincts and let the universe decide our fate, you’re saying. Very well then! I shall follow your lead.” “Alright, I guess we’ll just start walking and see where out feet take us!”

The pair of you walked in a comforting silence with your cheeks still red, but from the cold or your welling up feelings, neither of you knew. Having gotten to a park you found your gaze wandering around, lingering on the bare, spindly trees and that wavering gray lake. Glancing up at the sky you realized just how dark those clouds above were. Perhaps it would snow soon. The wind quickly picked up, constantly swirling and dancing about you two. It even threw up the long ends of Gundham’s scarf, whipping it around causing a crisp, sharp snap sound to occasionally ring out. With the noise neither of you noticed the similar clicking sounds that began to surround you till something hard hit your head. “Ouch! Wait, hail this time of year, or is it graupel?” All too quickly those ice chunks came raining down faster and faster as the wind grew more violent. “Or would this be sleet? Maybe we should ask a meteorologist. Is there a Super High School Level one at the school? But they’d li-” “Seeker of the Void, it matters not what it’s called. These are small, hard, painful attacks from the heavens. We must escape!” “Ah, you’re right! We can figure that out later!”

As you two ran with your arms covering your head, you raced to the small temple just ahead. “Well… at least we have shelter.” Gundham didn’t respond, just stoically looked out at the precipitation. “… Maybe going on a date today wasn’t the best idea. At least we got some exercise out of this.” You wanted to try seeing the bright side of this, but you could only find that one reason with your usual pragmatic approach. As you were searching through your coat pockets for your phone to look up if a Meteorologist went to Hope’s Peak, you suddenly heard foot falls. “Huh? Wa- Tanaka! Where are you going!?” “Wait here!” Gundham ran and slipped through the wind and hail not looking back. “… Tanaka you idiot! You’re just going to get hurt! What are you even doing!?” Seeing his form retreat off into the distance, a sigh escaped your lips. As much as you wished to chase after him, he specifically told you to stay put, so he clearly had some plan, but a plan for what? All you could do at this point was simply wait for him.

And so, you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Perhaps it was your unsteady mind making the time feel like it was ticking away at such a slow pace, perhaps he truly was taking so long, but that time waiting for him to return felt like a thousand days. It was certainly not helped by you constantly looking down the white covered path the man had left on, but you couldn’t get yourself to do anything else, you were much too antsy. Then finally you saw a figure. Not even giving it a second thought you raced to it. Surely enough it was- “Tanaka!” You managed to stop yourself in time to keep from crashing into him. Absolutely out of breath, Gundham rested his hand on his slightly bent knee trying to catch his breath. His scarf hung loosely around his neck. “A. There is no Super High School Level Meteorologist. B. Were you running this whole time!? In THIS wind!” It was then you suddenly noticed what Gundham held towards you. “I-I have procured the best charm I could find in the cl-closest marketplace.” “An umbrella! Thank you Tanaka. Though, we could have just stayed at the temple for a while. You didn’t have to go to this much trouble. You must have gotten pelted by the hail or whatever this is. It must have hurt.” Straightening himself out, he looked you directly in the eyes. “I am the Overlord of Ice; these mere pellets can do no such harm to me! I was the only one who could salvage this date. Even if the heavens try to disrupt this union, this ritual, no such thing as fate shall stand in my way!” The softest, most tender of smiles formed on those lips of yours even in that harsh wind, sent the Ice Lord’s heart a flight faster than the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. “… o-oh. Thank you, that’s so sweet.” “S-sweet!?” As you took a step closer, he could feel his entire face igniting in that familiar heat. How were you able to do this to him without even trying?

Wanting to just momentarily hide away to compose himself he tugged up on his scarf. Just as he did so, more wind came thrashing about, stealing the garment. “Your scarf!” You immediately chased after it, leaving Gundham to run after you, desperately holding the umbrella just out far enough to cover you. Zipping from left to right to any direction it was thrown higher and higher. “I think it’s gone into the street!” “Void Seeker! You don-” “Rental bikes!” Dashing out of the park you smashed some yen haphazardly into the slot and took out a bike. You were already riding away when Gundham managed to hop on the bike stand pegs on the back wheel before you left without him. Gripping your shoulder for balance he used his other hand to hold the clear umbrella before you, acting like a windshield of sorts.

You certainly never thought you’d ever find yourself peddling on a bike so fervently in a storm before but here you were, fighting against the wind, suddenly swerving around the few cars that passed your way, making sharp turns when your balance was tossed off, desperate not to crash! The ice certainly didn’t make things any easier, causing the ground to be slippery and bumpy at the same time making control almost near impossible. Despite Gundham’s best efforts those ice chunks crashed into you, and even almost into your eyes at times.

Sliding down a steep hill you had to take your feet off the pedals fearing the overwhelming speed would break your knees. Everything was but a blur as you zipped down faster and faster. “Wait!” You looked over your shoulder to see Gundham, hoping being just a bit closer would make your voice a little more clear even in the thundering clicks and howls. “We might be fast enough now!” “What!?” “Tanaka get your scarf! It might be our only chance!” Understanding, he gave you a firm nod. You tried keeping the bike steady for Gundham, who had to stand on his tiptoes reaching out as far as he could. It seemed each time the scarf was within reach it slipped from his fingers. Every single time! “Tanaka!” You were already speeding all too closely to the bottom of the hill, and you had to make a sharp turn.

…

With a groan you slowly pushed yourself off the ground. “Y/N!” “Huh? Who is-… Tanaka?” He was absolutely unrecognizable. Never before had you seen him so close to you. Never before had you seen him look so worried, scared even. Never before had you heard him call you by your first name. “Where are you hurt? How are you feeling? Do I need to summon healers?” “Did you get your scarf.” “… Seeker of the Void! Now is not the time to fret over such things! What is most important is your wel-” “I see it, your scarf!” You hopped to your feet, quickly racing to it before it got uncaught in the fallen, dented bike. “I got it!” Immediately Gundham was at by your side, dropping the broken umbrella. “You appear well enough.” “Ah! Sorry! I just wanted to get it before it was blown away again. As for me… very sore, maybe some bruising, but nothing bad. I think I more rolled than crashed. What about you?” “Heh, a pitiable attack such as that is no match for me!” “Good!”

A deep sigh escaped you as you picked up the bike. “That was certainly more than enough excitement for a week.” “Let us take shelter there for the time being.” He pointed toward a little café nearby. “What about the bike? I don’t think we can take in it in with us.” “Leave it out here. Look around, other than us no others dare to brave this treacherous terrain. Though should our transport be taken, I’ll pay the price, this is done on my suggestion after all.” Though a little hesitant you decided to go along with that plan.

Stepping into the café was like entering another world. So peaceful, so calm, it was absolutely lovely! When you and Gundham sat down you realized just how exhausted you felt. You simply let yourself sink into the seat. “… Maybe I should have thought this out more. It was awfully spur of the moment asking you out.” You looked out the window to the chaos that dwelled outside. “It was cloudy, I should have had the forethought to check the weather at least.” “Seeker of the Void.” “I mean, I was actually awake in the day and not napping to go stargazing tonight because I knew the weather wasn’t good.” “Void Seeker.” “Maybe I-”

Your thoughts suddenly came to a halt feeling your foot being nudged. “Huh?” Gundham sat there with his arms folded. His gaze seemed to bore holes into your figure, focusing solely on you. “The past matters not. You may dwell on possibilities all you like, but that will not change it.” “Yeah, you’re right. We’ve just got to make the most of this moment, right?” “Exactly.” Seeing that small kind smile curl on his lips set your mind at ease. It was then you remembered something. “Oh, and since in this moment we’re inside I can give your scarf back without it blowing away!” Not wanting to accidentally touch Gundham, knowing he didn’t like contact, you opted to place the garment on the table and slide it to him. “I thank you.”

After that not much was said. You two just enjoyed the quiet. This was just what you needed. Yes, the other patrons were a bit too noisy for either of your liking, but it was nice getting to rest after the hectic time before… It wasn’t that bad in the café either. The floor and walls were soft, light tan, wooden boards, and the furniture were a wooden dark reddish-brown. It was all so mild and warm. The other patrons mostly kept to themselves. The sounds of the creaking of wooden seats, the light thuds of foot falls against the wooden floorboard, the clinking of silverware, and the soft playing of piano music filled the air. The food was good too. The flavors like the café were mild, but comforting. Could use a little something to make it pop, but you were an astronomer, not a food critic, so you didn’t care all too much. It still tasted good.

Soon the music had changed. Still piano, but it was up-beat or at least faster paced. Jazz perhaps? Whatever genre it was, it got your foot tapping to the beat. It was a rather catchy tune too. “Hmm?” Then something got caught under your toes. Wanting to continue your tapping you decided to nudge whatever the object was out of the way. Instead it lightly nudged back? You nudged it with your other foot, which was immediately tapped against by something else. Looking up to the man who sat across from you, you saw he had his eyes closed and arms crossed. Curiously, you lightly kicked forward getting caught on something. A small huff escaped Gundham before you felt the bottom of your foot being lightly pushed back.  

Continuing to tap, nudge, kick, and push one another you were desperately trying and failing to hide your ever-growing enormous grin as Gundham looked to be perfectly stoic and composed, not even flinching. You were now determined to get him to crack. You couldn’t be the only one smiling like a little child. As you were pondering on what to do, your foot slipped when pushing back, kicking the leg of the table sending all the silverware clattering for a moment. Without thinking you clamped your hands over your mouth, not wanting to burst out into nervous laughter and drawing more attention your way. At least you got a reaction from Gundham, who genuinely looked surprised. “Geez, Tanaka. You need to be more careful; we were almost caught.” You spoke just under your breath, not wanting others to hear. “Me? What could you possibly mean? You’re the one who kicked the table.” “You’re the one who started this.” “I, Gundham Tanaka, the Overlord of Ice, would never kick off such a childish game.” “’kick off’?” You desperately tried stifling you giggle hearing the Great and Mighty Gundham Tanaka of all people make a pun. In your little fit of laughter, you missed the tinge of pink which dusted his cheeks and his gentle smile which stretched from ear to ear.

Neither of you were willing to give up your little game, you both wanted to get the last hit in and be the winner. As the game continued you got lost in your own world, all composure thrown out the window, both giggling messes. Your fun was soon interrupted though as an employee came telling you, you were starting to disturb the other customers and that you had spent far too much time loitering around, not having ordered anything else in over an hour. Gundham abruptly stood from his seat, slapping some money onto the table. “You mortal believe you can tell me, the Overlord of Ice what to do!? Though bold you are quite foolish. Come my companion! Let us take flight as to not allow these fiends to humiliate themselves further!” He then gently tugged on your coat. “… Sure, but I must add, you’re really freaking cute Tanaka.” “Cute!? P-preposterous!” Then you zipped past him, lightly kicking his foot. “You fiend! You managed to pull off such trickery! Not that it will matter for long though, for I shall be the winner!” He swiftly made chase after you out of the café.

You ran up and down the streets with the bike in hand trying to avoid Gundham’s attacks while hitting back with your own counters. Only the laughter you two shared could be heard in the calm desolate white world. It was gently carried along by the breeze ushering the peace that now existed. You noticed a glint in the Ice Lord’s eyes, as smirk formed on his lips. Suddenly white ice was kicked up distracting you from your advance and you were counter attacked! Loud, cheerful laughter erupted from deep within Gundham, and continued to do so as he spoke. “Oh dear, sweet, Seeker of the Void! You are in my domain now! There is no hope of your winning this match, for I am Gundham Tanaka, the Overlord of Ice!” “Ha! I bet you can’t get the last hit before we get to the park!” “Hah! I’d like to see you even attempt such a feat!”

The closer the two of you neared the park the more heated the battle became. You felt your heart pounding as you ran. You got the last hit, you just needed to keep dodging and you’d win! Though constantly running and laughing was not a good combination, you were so lightheaded you were likely a little delirious. Gundham was in the same position believing he was winning. Whatever the case was, neither of you could care at this point it was too fun. After placing the bike back in the rack, you leaned against it, trying to catch your breath. “Oh boy, I-I’m exhausted.” “Hmph, t-though you spend your life still and gazing, you put up quite a fight!” “Well, I guess that’s what you get for hiking up mountain peaks for the best view!”

As you made sure the bike was properly secure, Gundham’s gaze shifted towards the heavens. “Void Seeker, do you believe the winds shall grant us a clear view of you comet?” “… You remembered that? I just mentioned it off hand, didn’t I? Or did I start rambling again?” “That matters not, you spoke of it, and it’s your passion. I would never forget.” Your eyes sparkled with delight. “Well, the sky is starting to clear up so there might be a chance! Though obviously checking the weather report is the best, but I’ve found that so often it can be wrong that I just use it as more of a guideline. At this point I just go with my instinct and knowledge of the weather since I have to deal with it so much, I’ve learned a thing or two about how it works, and I think… I think we might have a chance!” “So, we are too rest now?” “Yeah! If we wanna stay up all night stargazing we’re gonna have to sleep now! Aw, I hope this works out!” Giddily you skipped into the park, twirling and spinning around as you took out your phone, setting an alarm.

“This looks like a good napping spot!” Kicking your feet up, you fell onto the ground. “Out here and not the dorms? I assumed you’d wish to quickly collect your tools.” “We’ll have enough time to get to the dorms later! Right now, I’m tired from all that running so we’ll just nap here!” Not questioning your reasoning, Gundham simply shrugged his shoulders and fell onto the ground beside you. Curling up into your coat and closing your eyes you swiftly fell asleep, just barely registering the single light nudge against your foot.

With a yawn and a stretch, you awoke to that dreaded, awful, blaring siren. “… not a cloud.” Gundham slowly sat up, grunting as he tried rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. Standing up you lightly nudged Gundham’s foot. “We need to get going if we wanna get the shopping done and get back to the school by night fall.” “Shopping?” “Yeah! We’re going to get hungry staying up all night.”

There was a spring in your step as you merrily walked along the sidewalk, occasionally playfully kicking at your companion’s feet to which he’d return the favor. The sun had yet to set but it was close to doing so. You watched as each of your breaths froze in the air before dissipating into mist and gently swirling away on the wind. The soft crunching of the ice beneath one’s footfalls was absolutely delightful on the ear.

Quickly you spotted that small neon sign flash on in the distance. Your pace slightly quickened, daydreaming of the delightful treats that awaited you and your companion inside. Arriving at the tiny convenience store you went straight to a specific aisle. “Hey, Tanaka pick out whatever you want, alright? I’ll pay!” Then you zipped around already knowing what you wanted. The elderly man behind the counter smiled and lightly waved as you passed by for a moment. “Ah, Y/N going out on another trip?” “Nope! Staying at school this time. Sorry I won’t be buying as much because of that.” “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine. You’re not my only customer you know. Now, who’s this fellow here?” “He’s my date.” “Oh, a date. I see I see. Wait… is this the great Gundham Tanaka I’ve heard so much about?” You froze for a moment feeling a blush cover your entire face. “Y-yeah. And I haven’t talked about him that much!” The man chuckled seeing Gundham’s cheeks flair up. “Ah, youth.”

The place was filled with brands and treats Gundham didn’t recognize. All the packaging was quite colorful too, a stark contrast from the simple, calm store. He meandered around looking for some treat as you chatted away with the man behind the counter about the comet tonight. Soon something caught the Ice Lord’s attention. It was but a plain blue box, a single side was see-though allowing one to spot the dull gold orb inside. “Chocolate Orange” was all that was written on the lid. After taking a few more moments to see if anything else caught his fancy he made his way for the counter, sliding the box to you.

“Huh? Aren’t you going to scan the items?” The man lightly shook his head. “You finally gained the courage to ask the young man out. I’m not going to have you worry over payment.” “What? No! I have to give you something!” “Alright, alright. Take your friend out on an out of town date some time and buy some extra treats for the road. Now get going, I’m sure there’s more exciting things to do on a date than speaking with an old man.” He laughed once more seeing how you and Gundham so easily blushed at his comments.

“Sorry about Mr. Sato. He’s a good acquaintance of mine who I end up rambling to when I go to his store. It’s always my last stop before I go on any trip stargazing, his place has the best snacks that can last for a long time!” The sun was just beginning to set, casting orange, purple, red, and yellow hues across the sky. “So, what did you get? Something new to try or an old favorite?” “Something new. Should the mere thought be tantalizing enough we could try it now.” “Oh, good idea! We can see if it’s good or not now and not have to deal with it later when the comet arrives if it’s not.”

Quickly sifting through the small paper bag, you took out the small box and held it out to Gundham. “Oh! Uh… Should I place it on the ground, or…” Your words trailed off seeing Gundham hesitantly hold up his bandaged hand. Ever so gently he took the box, his fingers brushing against yours. You swore your heart skipped a beat in that moment. Playing footsies was one thing it wasn’t really touching, but this… Neither of you spoke of it, there was no need. Words simply would have muddled the message that simple act conveyed. A simple act that meant everything to you. Getting so absorbed in the moment you almost didn’t notice how the now empty box was held out to you. “o-oh, Oh!” With a shaky hand you took the box back.

You watched as Gundham simply held the orb for a moment. The sun was directly behind him, casting his figure in a bright glow, simultaneously as a long dark shadow trailed from him. Unwrapping the gold foil from the treat, the chocolate inside was revealed. The chocolate was clearly cut into many pieces yet, still held it’s shape. After a moment of struggle Gundham managed to snap an orange segment shaped slice out… Then he held it out to you in his open bandaged palm. You heard your heart pound in your ears. Your mind sputtered to a stop just staring at that hand. All you could do was keep walking. Hesitantly that hand loosely closed and retracted, falling to Gundham’s side. You were suddenly snapped back to your senses when you felt something shaking beside your hand. Still trembling it slid into your open palm. As your fingers curled around the slice your hands parted.

The milk chocolate was mild with an orange zing that spread through the entire thing.

Gundham stood before your dorm room as you came out with your disassembled telescope in it’s case. The pair of you quickly climbed your way up to the rooftop of the dormitory. Once there you set about preparing and reassembling the telescope. You then spread out a blanket and laid atop it, simply waiting for the show to begin. After an hour or so of occasionally nudging the other’s feet with your own it finally happened. A streak cut through the sky quickly dissipating. Then another, and another till those streaks filled the sky. Confused, Gundham turned to you. “Do you know how the phenomena of meteor showers or shooting stars happen? Most often they occur when a comet passes by. The comet leaves a lot of stuff behind in it’s travels, that stuff getting pulled in by a planet’s gravity. As it enters the atmosphere, it burns up, disintegrating before it even gets to make impact, that’s why it’s so bright.”

Your eyes always seemed to be fixed on the sky, it was rarer your gaze shifted to anywhere else. Gundham used to wonder why that was. Was there something up there you longed for that was out of reach here? Did you just like marveling at it’s beauty? Quickly after meeting you, he stopped questioning it. It didn’t matter really. It just meant that if you even did pay attention to anything else, it must have been quite special indeed. So, when you turned to glance at him, to him, the world stopped. Being with such a person, a person who only dedicated their time to things they cared about and nothing else. It made him feel like he meant absolutely everything… that must have been why the simple word ‘date’ could send his heart aflight. It was because YOU said it. You asked him, not the other way around. You really wanted to be with him.

You shivered as that cold wind brushed past. As you hugged yourself you noticed Gundham had scooted closer to you. Undoing his scarf, he rewrapped it around himself but with only one end, the other was gently placed atop your shoulders. A content sigh slipped from his chapped lips seeing you so tenderly wrap the garment around yourself.

Though that night felt to be an eternity the sun still rose. Neither of you dared move as it climbed higher and higher into that brightening sky. Gundham tried stifling it, but you still caught the yawn that managed to escape him. You gently tugged on the scarf, signaling Gundham to stand up. You slowly set to disassembling the telescope, collecting your trash and rolling up the blanket. The whole time you were tied close to one another, not willing to loosen the scarf even a little.

All to soon you found yourselves standing before your room. Gently you untied the scarf. “… Void Seeker. I… I wish to continue this ritual. This ‘date’ was but the first step after all. So… would you have me? To keep close…” He feared his heart was going to burst from his chest as he spoke. He found he couldn’t look you in the eyes. “… Want to stay up all night for New Year’s Eve and day, but that’s a few days from now… Well, it’ll take a day to readjust our sleeping schedule. I’ll be up for being awake in the day, day after tomorrow!” “Y-yes! Certainly! A-and I, Gundham Tanaka, shall plan the date this time! Come and reunite with me at the same place and time from our date yesterday!” His strangely excited yet nervous laughter filled the air as he practically sprinted away.

Dashing into his room he slammed the door shut. He took deep breaths trying to steady his racing heart. Leaning against the wall he slid down, just letting gravity take him. Lightly chuckling, he smiled, it sinking in that he got another date! Wait- were you two going steady now? Were you partners!? Then that familiar pitter patter of feet filled the air. “My Devas, you’ve awakened!... You sensed the Void Searcher’s presence on me, no doubt…” The four hamsters quickly, yet sleepily scurried towards Gundham. “Y-yes……… I- N-NO THEY ARE NOT MY MATE, WE’RE STILL COURTING!... well… not at the moment, I believe? M-maybe…” Of all beings, Gundham never thought his loyal Devas would be teasing him about his crush… or would it be his partner? He burrowed his face into his scarf, desperate to hide… The scarf you also wore… So much for trying to slow his heart! “It seems these affections for Y/N will be the end of me.” Hugging the scarf close, he smiled, day dreaming of what to do on your next date.

[tealin]

Basler to the Beardmore 2: Errands

As always, no matter what Tumblr does with it, this post is available in its intended presentation at twirlynoodle.com/blog along with the rest of my Antarctic travel diary.

On this flight to the heart of Antarctica, I was only a hanger-on.  We had two errands to run before entertaining me and my historical interests, the most important of which was restocking a fuel depot at the base of the Transantarctic Mountains.

There are many busy science teams in Antarctica, and while some renewable energy sources are starting to be used, the fact is that everything runs on a reliable supply of fossil fuels, mostly petrol.  The aircraft that keep people and their essentials moving around the continent have a network of fuel depots, both for relay stops and for emergencies.  Contrary to some conspiracy theories, anyone can fly to and around Antarctica if they have the money and resources to get there, and many do.  As the national science programmes have a very tight margin, and their fuel depots are expensive to maintain, they cannot afford jet-setters raiding their supplies, so the locations of these depots are kept secret.  Therefore I am not going to tell you where our first stop was.  The chances of a private pilot reading this blog are slim, but it may be possible to deduce from my photos where this particular cache is: if you are that outlier, I hereby ask you please to do the decent thing and leave the fuel alone – or if you absolutely must access it, then let the USAP know what you've taken and make good on it as soon as you can.  Everyone in Antarctica looks out for each other, and that includes you.  OK?  OK. 

So, we've taken off, and done our acrobatics to get the skis up, and are now facing a couple of hours' flight time before we reach our primary destination.  There is, quite frankly, nothing between Williams Field and the Transantarctic Mountains, besides hundreds of miles of the Ross Ice Shelf. This was known as 'The Barrier' to the early explorers, because when James Clark Ross sailed down to explore in 1840 it was a great while wall that prevented his ships from going any further. In later years it wasn't so much a barrier as a highway – clear and flat, and not much off sea level, it provided a route deep into the high latitudes without the perils of the high windy Polar Plateau.  Among people who frequently travel out there, it is sometimes referred to as 'the Flat White' – my impression is that this term came from the Kiwis, and the espresso drink of the same name is also antipodean in origin, so I wonder which came first.  It is undeniably Flat, and White (though the refraction of sunlight through ice crystals makes it look anything from peachy to periwinkle, depending on the angle), but none of its various names communicate just how big it is.

I have flown over the Canadian tundra many times, and over the Greenland ice cap, but the view from 35,000 feet is like looking at satellite view in Google Maps compared to flying at cloud level, where the parallax with the horizon gives you a much keener sense of distance.  The Barrier is BIG.  In fact, 'big' is too small a word to communicate it.  'Massive', 'mammoth', and 'gargantuan' are more melodramatic than descriptive.  Its vastness puts all of human consciousness, never mind vocabulary, in proper perspective.  For my money, it outdoes the night sky as a visual approximation of infinity. 

Getting a sense of its size, especially in a still photo, is difficult without an object for scale.  For your education and my good fortune, we happened to fly over the RAID convoy as they made their way from the Minna Bluff site to where the Ross Ice Shelf meets the Antarctic continent.  Rapid Access Ice Drilling has been supporting various scientific projects for a few years now, whether their interest is in the ice itself (its trapped air gives a record of Earth's atmosphere in millennia past) or what's underneath (marine environments far removed from the open sea; the bed of an accelerating glacier).  Their units are about the size of a shipping container, and are pulled by enormous tractors, so if they are this dwarfed by the Flat White, imagine how much more puny a sledge party would be. 

Before too much longer we were at the depot.  Landing at an Antarctic field airstrip is even more complicated than taking off: we circled once, to do a visual check, then skimmed it with the skis to make sure no hidden crevasses had opened up since the last time someone landed here, then finally touched down for real on the third go-round.  The plane crew rapidly got to work unloading the fuel drums; I offered to help but was assured I wasn't needed, so spent the time taking photographs and mucking around in the snow.

The first thing that struck me was how beautiful the mountains were in colour.  The best photos I've seen of them have been black and white, so the rich variety in shades was remarkable.  What you can't see in this small photo was how the lighter rock was banded with strata of blue-grey and orange-brown sandstone, giving it a luxurious marbled effect. 

I've read a lot about how conditions on the Barrier are so much different than on the coast.  This was far deeper into it than I was ever expecting to set foot, but I was surprised how tame it was.  Now, it was an idyllically calm and sunny day – had it been any different we would not have been there – so the only time I realised that it was actually much colder than McMurdo was when a slight breeze wafted past my bare hand and broke the warm spell that the sunshine had cast.

 What was different was the snow.  Around McMurdo, the snowbanks which did build up had been repeatedly blown over with volcanic dust which warmed up in the sun and made the snow gritty, icy, and rotten – if you live in a snowy city, think of the texture of snowbanks alongside busy roads.  Out here, there was nothing but snow, all the way down to where it became ice – powder blown off the mountains, maybe even off the Polar Plateau, deposited here to be compacted in the sun and polished by the wind.  The crust made by these processes was smooth and, in many places, thick enough to support my weight, so I hardly left a footprint – a 'good pulling surface' as sledgers would have it – but without warning there would be a thin spot where my foot would break through and sink in the sugar-like snow below.

Before long, the crew had finished their restock, and playtime was over.  After our exciting takeoff manoeuvres, we started climbing the mountains to the second of our tasks for the day. 

The Transantarctic Mountains, according to our pilot, are still something of a mystery.  They are a very high mountain range, but unlike the Rockies for example, they show little or no sign of buckling or other geological forces – they seem to have been lifted whole, keeping their layers of sandstone and coal and fossil-rich deposits mostly flat, with occasional intrusions of igneous rock. The range acts as a sort of massively oversized dyke, holding back the miles-deep polar ice cap from spilling over West Antarctica, the Ross Ice Shelf, and the Ross Sea, as the mountains cross the continent.

Ice appears to be solid, but it actually behaves more like a stiff jelly or fondant icing – if it finds a change in altitude it will flow, very slowly, downhill.  This is what a glacier is: snow gets deposited over many years without melting, turns to ice, and when its volume can no longer be held at elevation, starts to creep down the valley. The ice of the Polar Plateau finds gaps in the Transantarctic Mountains and pushes through them, forming glaciers which pour out onto the Ross Sea and, merging, form the Ross Ice Shelf.  The Beardmore Glacier is one of the largest of these, but there are hundreds of smaller ones, and many tributary glaciers that feed these.  In flying over the lower Transantarctic Mountains, there were plenty of opportunities to see ice dynamics at work: 

Our destination was up near the head of a narrow glacier, where it broadened out into a snowy plain called the Bowden Névé – névé being a term for young snow which has not yet compacted into glacial ice but is in a position to do so.  This was CTAM (pronounced see-tam), a geology camp established to be a hub for teams doing work in the Central TransAntarctic Mountains. The névé afforded an open, soft, flat place to land planes carrying supplies and people, who could then move on to less accessible places overland.  At least, it did, until a wind event a few years ago scoured deep furrows in the landing strip.

As we flew over, doing the visual check, I was astonished the site could be spotted at all, as it was only a small clutch of bamboo poles in the vast expanse. 

Having proven that the landing strip was landable, the next task was to see what condition the building was in.  What building, you ask?  Why, the one completely covered in snow, under the markers.  Once upon a time it was a couple of modules standing on the surface of the glacier, but Antarctica gradually swallowed them up, so now one has to dig down through the snow to reach the roof hatch, eight feet above the floor. 

On the way from the Basler to the camp site, I was treated to one signature snow effect I had missed out on, at the depot.  'The Barrier Hush' is frequently mentioned in journals: it was described as a 'whoosh' or a 'hush-shh-shhhh' that sighed out from underneath the walker as he broke through the top crust into a pocket of air underneath, where the loose snow had settled after the top crust was formed.  The pocket could sometimes extend quite a long way from where the crust was broken and the sound followed the exchange of air as far as it went.  It would startle the ponies and excite the dogs, until they learned there was nothing to chase and catch.    

I was walking some way behind the plane crew as they made for the camp with shovels, and suddenly heard what I thought was a small whirlwind – a sharp and intense, almost whistling sound that seemed to race across my path.  This being the sort of place one would expect to see dust devils (or snow devils, I suppose they would be) I looked around to see where it was, but the air was as still up here as it had been down on the ice shelf.  It was only after the second or third time it happened that I realised what it was – it was so completely not how I had imagined the Barrier Hush to sound.  If you make a little whirlwind sound by whisper-whistling whshwshywshwhwwsh with your lips really quickly, that's what it sounded like.  Having heard it, now, I can completely understand how the dogs would have thought there was a small creature scurrying around under the snow.  It sounded much more animate than it had been described.  I felt so lucky to be let into that secret. 

The crew got the hatch open and the first of them climbed down into the pitch darkness to report everything OK.  The rest followed, and invited me along, but I am not the most coordinated travelling artist, and couldn't see a way down for me that didn't end in a concussion.  So I stayed above while they explored the submerged camp, and enjoyed the view.  It was really spectacular – not just the stunning mountains but the thin, brittle blue of the sky and the hardness of the sunlight, as if the whole world were a taut drumskin. 

And, best of all, from here the horizon was the Polar Plateau – another Flat White stretching to the South Pole and beyond.

[alloftheimaginess]

New York

Wordcount: 1364

Warnings: Swearing

I walk into the lab looking for Thor "I was wrong, Director. The world hasn't changed a bit" I hear Steve say.

"Did you know about this?" Bruce asks Nat as her and Thor walk in.

"You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?" Nat asks and Bruce chuckles. "I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed" he says leaning against the table.

"Loki's manipulating you" she says calmly obviously scared.

"And you've been doing what exactly?" He asks obviously annoyed.

"You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you." Nat says.

"Yeah and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy" he says turning the screen.

"I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction" he says pointing to it.

"Because of them" fury says pointing to me and Thor.

"Us?" I ask.

"Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge mass that levelled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously out gunned." Fury says walking closer to Banner.

"Our people want nothing but peace with your people" I say.

"You're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat, the world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled" Fury says and I suck in air.

"Like you controlled the cube?" Steve asks.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war" Thor says finally speaking.

"A higher form?" Steve asks.

"You forced our hand. We had to come up with some-" Fury gets cut off.

"A nuclear deterrent cause that always calms everything down" Tony cuts in and I roll my eyes at the childlike behavior.

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?" Fury asks.

"I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep” Steve says.

"Wait, wait, hold on. How is this now about me?" Tony asks putting his snack down.

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?" Steve asks causing Tony to grow angry.

"And here I thought humans were more evolved than this" Thor says rubbing his face and I smirk at his comment.

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" And everyone starts arguing.

"Children" I yell and I whistle but everyone ignores me.

"Let’s all just shut the fuck up!" I yell and they quiet down.

"No one even knows who you are" Tony says.

"I'm literally your only hope, can any of you get to Loki?" I ask hand on my hip and when no one answers I smirk.

"I thought so, fighting each other isn't the way to go. We aren't going to get anything done, we aren’t each other’s enemies, we are a team but a team divided amongst itself cannot win" I say and they start again and I roll my eyes, sitting down giving up and mentally checking out.

"You people are so petty, and tiny" Thor says and I laugh.

"Yes, right. I think I'm done here, it's probably best I return home since none of you actually care about what we're going to face" I say dusting myself off. "Stay put" Fury bosses and I stand by Thor.

"Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-" Bruce cuts him off.

"Where? You're renting my room" he says. And I start shaking, feeling completely drained so I focus my mind but it's quickly interrupted.

Something starts beeping and Bruce walks over to it "oh my god" he says and an explosion goes off flinging us everywhere and I smack into the glass groaning as I roll over once I hit the ground.

"Are you okay?" Thor asks helping me up.

"Just my leg" I say groaning and he helps me over to the chair.

"I have to get to Loki" I say standing up.

"You're going to bleed out" he says touching my face "I’ll be okay, I need to talk to him" I say limping out grimacing every step I take.

"Go help Natasha" I say and he nods running off. "Good luck" I shout.

"Same to you"

I put my hand on the scanner opening the door and I limp in and Loki's face drops.

"My Queen?" He asks practically jumping up from his seated position.

"Are you okay?" He asks and my lip starts quivering as my eyes water.

"Do I look okay?" I ask and he walks closer to the glass pressing his hand and I stare at it shaking my head.

"I could have been killed Loki" I say.

"I didn't know you were here, if I did it wouldn't have happened" he says and I press my hand against the glass and I stare at it for a minute.

"Bullshit!" I snap snatching my hand away from the glass.

"Bullshit Loki, you don't love me" I say stepping back shaking my head.

"Don't say that" he says.

"Is it not obvious?" I ask.

"If you really cared about me, if you really loved me you would be on Asgard with me and your son, but here you are locked away in the stupid cage because we weren't enough for you" I say full on crying.

"I was trying to give you the world" he says barely in a whisper.

"I never wanted the world Loki, I already had it with you and Amion, I didn't need anything else, I didn't care if you were a king or not" I say pausing to calm down.

"After you died, or well pretended to die I was a mess, three days ago I get asked to meet with heimdall and I show up and he's there with Thor and they tell me you're alive and that he has eyes on you because he's never stopped looking out for you" I say.

"Don't say anything" I say when I see him open his mouth.

"I never stopped looking out for you. When he told me what you were doing I couldn't believe it because that's not my Loki" I say shaking my head.

"My Loki would never hurt the place that I care for, the Loki I know and love, knows that this is wrong. The Loki I know is just the god of pranks and hurting his brother who can take it. Then I got to thinking maybe it's not my Loki" I say looking up at him and he looks down.

"Look at me" I say my voice shaky and he doesn't look up.

"Look at me!" I scream hitting the glass and he looks up and I stare deep into his eyes.

"What did he do?" I whisper seeing how broken he is.

"What happened?" I ask feeling the tears stream down my face and the last thing I expect to happen happens and he breaks down crying.

"Loki" I say and he looks up.

"You have to make this better before it gets worse" I say kneeling down so I can be eye level with him.

"We need you, don't get yourself killed" I say and he nods.

"When you fix things I promise I'll do everything I can to help you" I say.

"They are under a spell only you can break" he says speaking up and I nod getting up to open the glass he's behind and fury walks in.

"What do you think you're doing?!" His voice booms as he yells at me.

"What's right" I say walking over to Loki and I conjure up my magic.

Once the purple glow pops up I put my hands to his head moving them in a circular motion and he falls out.

"What did you do?" Fury asks grabbing my arm tightly.

"I just saved my world" I say glaring at him.

"So unless you want me to not do the same for yours I would appreciate if you let me go" I say through gritted teeth as I push him away.

[peacefulrevivalteen]

Round 2: Electric boogaloo original title edition.

@taiyuu-high-oct @sapphireknight30 @snoopdoggkun 

         The second round was about to begin, students starting to make their way through the faux-city Taiyuu raised. A student whose height was only second to their home room teacher’s, manages to stop a much shorter girl from the opposing class

         Vai lets out a squeak as she is caught off guard, her eyes land on the hand gripping her shoulder, gaze slowly crawling up the arm to her round one opponent, Ozen 

         “O-oh h-hey Ozen, w-what’s up?” Vai squawks

         Ozen stares down at the shorter girl, the same girl nicknamed “Bondage-san” by her class; the compromising position they put Ozen in securing them both victory and the nickname pops briefly into her head. Ozen manages to shake it away, returning to the moment at hand. “You better win” she states, letting go of the girl’s shoulder.

          Vai just sputters, face growing flushed as she tries to get out a coherent response, one Ozen decided not to stay for, continuing past the smaller girl. A sharp inhale, followed by “I’ll do my best” has Ozen smirking to herself, soon after passing into the city.

         After being directed by her teacher appointed earpiece, Ozen finds herself dawdling at her starting position. As she waited for other students to find their positions, she took note of her urban surroundings, the dotted lights denoting her area, of particular interest to her.

         She doesn’t have to wait long, the crackle of her earpiece was followed by confirmation of everyone’s position. Ozen readied her body, just like she was used to from all those years she spent in track. Soon enough a “start!” is released through her earpiece and she bursts into a sprint.

         “This city is certainly large” Ozen thought, easily keeping to her initial speed, her body void of any heavy breathing, and miraculously enough sweat despite the brutal pace she set.

-------------------------------------------------------

         Bringing the water bottle to her lips Ozen manages a couple sips as she exits the changing room, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Kyaa!! Ozen-Senpai!” greets her as she doesn’t make it far before she is crowded by the usual group of second year girls.

          “You were so great out there!” one of them says. “Yeah! You didn’t even break a sweat out there!” another one says. “I wish I was as athletic as you! You make track look so easy!” a third says, or was it the first girl? Ozen didn’t particularly care enough to pay attention to their faces, this was hardly the first time something like this has happened.

          Today though Ozen doesn’t have time to dawdle and starts to make their way through the small crowd. “Thanks, I do have a doctor’s appointment to get to-“ is all Ozen has to say before the crowd parts before her like Moses and the red sea.

          A chorus of “Good luck senpai!”’s ring out from the crowd. “That doctors appointment is a waste of time, Ozen-senpai has to be the healthiest student at our school” is the last conversation she is able to make out before rounding the corner. -------------------------------------------------------

         The ringing in her ears was deafening but slowly it subsided and Ozen began to lift her gaze from the floor, eventually resting on the shouting form of her Mom. “What do you mean she’s the ‘unhealthiest person still standing you’ve ever seen?!’ my daughter is the captain of her school’s track team! Get your shit straight!” her mother fumes.

         “Fujinuma-San, I’m saying that your daughter’s muscles are reminiscent of a bed ridden coma patient” the doctor in front of them responds bluntly, drawing their attention to the results they pin up. “Your daughter’s ‘stamina’ is just her quirk negating physical stress on her body.” -------------------------------------------------------

         Ozen skids to a halt, catching sight of an alleyway, more importantly the fire escape within. Not one to miss a beat she starts off again, running into the alleyway jumping and easily reaching the ladder with her height bolstering her.

          Ozen ascends the steep emergency staircase like it was nothing, and really it might as well have been. She shakes those memories from her mind refocusing on the match.

         Her newfound height provides her a tactical view of her area, quickly she scans the urban environment around her, constructing a mental map before directing herself to where she believed the center to be.

         Having wasted enough time Ozen starts off into another sprint, not hesitating to vault off the edge, feet landing firmly on the adjacent building. She keeps her pace, building from building and while not the most direct approach to the center, she would rather have the visual advantage.  Yet Ozen still furrows her brow, hoping she didn’t lose too much time.

-------------------------------------------------------

         “Wow, tall girl must have gotten lost, guess street smarts isn’t her thing.” Kutou states to the crowd of only herself. Looking around the courtyard she makes her way down the steps of the raised dais, orb in hand.

         Kutou can clearly hear battles kicking off in the distance and yet there is no sight of her opponent, even on the stupid radio bunny girl made her be a part of. Being on edge she starts to exit the way she came, approaching the underpass connecting two buildings lining the alleyway. However, she doesn’t make it far before a blue blur crashes down in front of her. -------------------------------------------------------

         Ozen slams down in front of her opponent, still crouched she wastes no time grabbing at kutou’s ankles, violently jerking them up and flipping them into trash can behind her. Kutou only manages a surprised “Kya!” as her body uncomfortably crumples into the trash receptacle.

         Ozen manages to catch the orb midair, leaving her opponent behind as she runs back into the courtyard, having already seen this area from above she knows where to go and turns the corner exiting the alleyway, heading for the smaller one across the way. Aggravated yelling sounds off behind her as she enters the alleyway that exits to her street, managing to turn the left corner just in time to miss the chunk of trash can rocketing out of it.

          Making her way down the main street connecting to her goal she catches sight of a spotted boy staring straight at her, peculiarly hand to their ear. Ozen isn’t able to give it much though before a loud ear grating crunching noises throughout the street and despite her better judgment turns towards the source, a large chunk of Building careening towards her, colliding with her in a thunderous-- -------------------------------------------------------

          -Ping- Usually kids her age would have having rocks thrown at them but Ozen just lets out a beaming smile. “Wow Ozzie-chan! Your quirk is so cool!” her friend, who were they again? H̵̨̛͢҉a̴̡͢͝n̶̴á̡́͞? Said to her. “Do you know how much it can take?” the excited H̵̨̛͢҉a̴̡͢͝n̶̴á̡́͞ lets out. “N-no, not yet.” Ozen replies with a nervous scratch to the back of her neck. “ H̵̨̛͢҉a̴̡͢͝n̶̴á̡́͞! Ozen! Come on! You two are the only ones not on the bus!” their teacher calls out to them. H̵̨̛͢҉a̴̡͢͝n̶̴á̡́͞ eagerly grabs their friend’s hand and they quickly make their way to the school bus, they don’t want to miss out on the heroic history museum, today is going to be a good day, they can already tell. -------------------------------------------------------

          -CRACK- goes the boulder of debris, having slammed into Ozen full force, she never yields even an inch of ground causing the boulder split two, continuing past to crash violently into the building behind her.

          Ozen lets out an unimpressed “hmmph” at the realization that her opponent must know her quirk already, if she were to try such a stunt. She is unable to continue this thought however, the grinding and twisting of metal blare behind her. Ozen turns around in time to bear witness to the destruction the boulder has wrought. The fake storefront was thoroughly caved in. She manages to catch sight of someone fleeing the top levels before her attention is ripped back to the building buckling under its own weight. Her eyes widen as the building plummets towards her, taking a deep breath as if by instinct she drops the orb and braces for impact. She has to hold it up she has to she can’t drop it- -------------------------------------------------------                     “Please don’t drop it Ozen!” and for those moments she is there again, The Museum of Heroic history, dust coating her lungs, crying, so much crying around her, her class huddled around her, the only thing separating them from the roof crashing down and crushing them all; pleading, begging her to not falter. There she stood, surrounded by sobs and pleas, in the exact same spot for what she would later would learn to be hours but it felt like an eternity to her. She never left that spot did she? She’s the only one left, no one came for them, this is her tomb and she’s never getting out

-------------------------------------------------------

         Ozen doesn’t even realize when the building finally topples over her, only being brought out of her nightmare by a low whistle. Looking around frantically she finds she isn’t back in that museum and there appears to be a way out, her gaze following the slope up to the mouth of the debris cave, the same location her opponent now stood.

         “You seem a little stuck” Kutou lets outs sarcastically, chuckling to herself she starts carefully making her way down to the taller girl.

         “I can drop this whenever I want” Ozen retorts with a narrow of her eyes.

         “Yeah but you won’t, not with me in here, you wouldn’t risk it.” Kutou responds, mockingly patting Ozen’s cheek for emphasis.

         Kutou picks up the orb by her opponents feet, being intact but looking quite worse the wear. Ozen just grits her teeth in frustration as her opponent makes her way back up and out. Kutou stops at the entrance however, having decided to rub her victory in one last time she turns to back to Ozen, spinning the orb on her finger with ease.

         “Well, looks li-kyaa!” is all kutou manages to get out before something or someone interrupts her, causing them to topple backwards outside.

         Ozen is surprised by the display, waiting patiently in her alcove, wondering to herself what just occurred. After what seems like forever a face pops its way into view, however the bright light of the entrance blinds Ozen from distinguishing any features. “Yo Ozen, you down there?” Is what she hears from the figure and with that, recognition quickly clicks in her mind.

         “Popi? Is that you?” she asks rhetorically, she knows it’s her. “Yeah, cotton candy is here too,”

Ozen blinks at the descriptor. “Takakutou?” she has to ask, “yeah, whatever” her friend replies almost bored.

          “Mind moving them so I can get out without hurting them?” her inquiry is met with the sight of Popi checking for dirt under her nails.

         “I do… but fine, for you, give me a minute.” Popi manages to say before popping out of sight.

          Ozen gives it two minutes just in case, after which she starts making her way up and out of the debris cave, having to bend her arms awkwardly to accommodate the ceiling. Slowly but surely the building collapses behind her, culminating in a final grand cave in as Ozen squeezes herself out.

          Taking a deep breath of fresh air she catches sight of her best friend, looking bored down at the bottom of the mountain of debris, a twitching Takakutou lying thankfully safe by her feet.

         Ozen makes her way down the slope and is met with Popi handing over a pretty banged up orb, Her orb. Ozen graciously accepts it from her and holds it under her arm. “Thank you for the help” Ozen says, hoisting kutou up into a more comfortable sitting position, an angry glare from her opponent is all she got in response, unless you count twitching limbs and talking in tongues, which frankly Ozen didn’t.

          “Yeah well, that building stunt distracted Manspell enough for me to get a hit on her, so we’re even.” Popi emphasizes with a nod to the orb under her arm.

          Ozen doesn’t believe that’s the only reason but she leaves it for another time. They part ways soon after, Ozen keeping her guard up after being told by her friend that “1-A has been communicating with radios.” Her thoughts going straight to the boy she saw earlier.

          Despite radio communication Ozen doesn’t come into contact with anyone else, quietly making her way through her goal and securing victory

[death-rebirth-senshi]

This is like a more petty level of complaining for kingdom hearts but like. Even the boss battles were mostly kind of boring and unmemorable, and I found proud mode to mostly be easy to the point of being unengaging. Like, I'm not a big "everything has to be hard" type of gamer, but I literally tried to die against Hans' heartless so I could replay it and I couldn't. Some of the post game battlegates have been some fun.

There are also no human boss battles in kh3 until the end (except for Davy Jones I guess), and then you get the messy 3v3 or 2v2 organization battles, at which point I couldn't be bothered to do anything but put on keyblade guns and blast magic. Their HP is kind of too low to really get a hang of them as individual bosses, and together they're just kind of a mess. Xehanort has annoying flying and underwater segments, though his final fight is halfway decent.

All of it is made worse by the plot content though, like there's no sense of...anything. There's generally a boss fight because "well we're at the end of this Disney movie's plot so there should be a boss fight."

I think about fighting Xaldin after he's been harassing Belle and the Beast and naturally Belle's epic elbow. There's just nothing anywhere near that here. Gothel gets turned into a heartless by Marluxia at the part where she's supposed to turn into dust (or even fall to her death - why would Marluxia turn her into a heartless now?). It's after she's stabbed Eugene and Rapunzel's hair got cut, so there's no like. Stakes to it. It's just shoved in there. We're not rushing to save Eugene or Rapunzel, we're just. Boss battle. Same with Hans, WHO DOESN'T HAVE A SPEAKING ROLE, he's just there, knocked out and then he becomes a heartless we have to fight at an awkward moment. Davy Jones is like. I don't think Sora knows who Davy Jones is at this point, and he's stripped of everything that made him compelling in the movie, which actually could have worked very interestingly in kingdom hearts (he doesn't even say Calypso's name when he dies...I'm still shocked they included Will's death).

And while some of the battlegates are nice, previous games had whole arenas and tournaments with unique enemies or more powerful versions of previous bosses, so this is nothing.

And while form changes are neat, they can't be leveled up like drive forms, so once you get the keyblade you're done, so there's no depth or extra rewards there. You can level up keyblades, but you really don't need to and it seems like it would be more trouble getting all the required items than it's worth, as like I said I already beat everything. There's a version of mushroom 13, but not as good, gameplay mechanics aren't relevant for any of them, and from what I gather the rewards are mostly for the cooking minigame rather than giving you unique synthesis items.

Synthesis is also boring because recipes unlock automatically rather than needing to be found and thus far a majority of items you synthesize can just be found in treasure boxes. You can't level up synthesis like in kh2, so there's no reason to like...synthesize anything. You can get the + version of stuff without crafting the normal ones. So it's just. Nothing there to be bothered with.

Finding hidden Mickey's is fine in concept but I am absolutely not wasting my time running around to find them all. Puzzle pieces in kh2 were more about unlocking abilities by leveling up your drive forms and less a matter of going on a scavenger hunt; stickers kind of the same (I'm not a big fan of the huge environments, partially because everything looks so samey. Exploring islands in pirates was alright but even that gets old after a bit).

So in conclusion even from a gameplay point of view most elements of kh3 are kind of inferior, even to the side games. Command Melding in bbs and making dream eaters to get the best commands was engaging; even without the final mix kh2 had tournaments and unique leveling for the drive forms and Sephiroth. Kh3 has nothing! It's just mediocre. And to my knowledge, the dlc pretty much only adds the data battles, which look like halfway decent competent boss battles that should have been in the main game.

And sure maybe critical mode is better or a level 1 run would be more engaging and reveal hidden depths of the game but I've never had to do that to have fun with a kingdom hearts game before and I don't feel like that should be the answer.

[missguomeiyun]

Kimchi fermentation jar

Hello everyone, & how are you doing?

This is going to be an ongoing post - which means I will come back to this post at a later date & let you know what’s up/the progress...

This is a “professional” kimchi fermentation jar/crock that I had received earlier this week (Thank you to new parents, Ying & Richard!).

& yes, I realized it is backwards bcos I was on selfie mode.

Here it is.

I’ve never heard of this brand, but there are many resources that will be able to tell you more about not only the brand, but also other “containers” they carry. This is one of the many crocks they have; I have the 2L one, which contains 4 parts. The crock portion, the screw-on lid, a “resting” lid, as well as a ceramic ring.

2 days after receiving the gift, I made napa cabbage kimchi. Feel free to refer to other posts I had within this month; nothing new/diff about this kimchi. Like I used the same stuff & I don’t really measure things anymore. I wanna see if using a fermentation jar makes a difference... vs one that’s not for kimchi-making.

The biggest piece of knowledge I can share with you is this~

So after you stuff your napa cabbage in, there’s a ceramic ring, which acts as a paperweight to help push the (softened) leaves down once fermentation is happening. *refer to image above* You’re able to see the cabbage; then the colourful ceramic ring, THEN you put on the screw-on lid, which is ANOTHER ring. Lastly, you fit the resting lid on top.

Just within the black circumference, there’s a little channel for water. This water reservoir is a NEW thing for me. In fact, Richard told me that his mother-in-law has a similar container to this, & she uses it to make Chinese pickled vegetables (similar to kimchi; it’s also fermented). The concept of the water reservoir is interesting, & there’s not much articles or info on it. Youtube videos also don’t mention it at all; it doesn’t seem like a kimchi fermenting-specific concept... but anyway, I found out that its use is actually 2-fold.

1. To let gas escape. Fermentation is an anaerobic process, which means, it happens without presence of oxygen; hence why I always thought it needs to be closed. By having the water reservoir, it acts as a medium for gas to pass through, but it also prevents air from entering the jar. As such, it is essentially a one-way route.

2. To avoid contamination. As mentioned above in 1., & my previous kimchi posts, if the system is completely closed, one should be allowing the kimchi to “burp” every 1-2 days. However, by doing such, you’re opening the system up to ambient environment, which could potentially introduce unwanted stuff into your kimchi (dust, clothing particles...). With the water reservoir, you can skip the burping step completely.

So 1 & 2 sort of go hand-in-hand, & it was interesting for me to find out. I also hope I’ve provided useful info for you as well! I’m learning lots as I go!

^ what day 3 looks like. There’s really no difference noted from this crock vs what I was using before. There’s more liquid (brine) content, which is to be expected after several days of fermentation. With that, the leaves of the cabbage are becoming softer, & thus the ceramic piece has gone lower. Despite being a one-way “open” system, I thought I would smell the kimchi if I put my nose closer to the lid, but I couldn’t smell anything.

Alright, that is it~ Will be back in another few days!

^ May18th, the 6th day of this fermentation.

The level of liquid rose, while the ceramic piece went lower. I ended up taking off the resting lid, just to see if there was water left in the reservoir. There was. The level didn’t change compared to almost a week ago, so I guess it doesn’t evaporate as fast as I thought it would. Smells sour, like fresh (/young) kimchi lol

^ May 21st. Day #9. The ceramic ring got lower... again!

^ May 26th. 2-week old kimchi is ready!

So like.. it was good! Again, my homemade kimchis aren’t very spicy bcos my parents can’t handle spicy foods so it was very mild. The texture was still crunchy & the brine turned out nicely as well. Compared to my previous creations in pasta jar & the large mason jar.. . *shrugs* unnoticeable difference really. The “sauce” I had varied each time. I do have to say I like the size of this jar for making a large batch / if using a large cabbage. But otherwise, if I just wanna make a little bit, I’ll just stick to my smaller jars & remember to let it burp every 1-2 days. That’s all~

// This will be the end of this post. Forever. haha

[rydenstories]

a very unlikely rescue

REDDIT

"Get the van ready!"

My boss, Mandy, called from the back office. Moments before, I had heard her cellphone ring and already suspected that we'd be going on a rescue. The animal shelter she owned was closed for the night and the evening volunteers had already arrived, but it wasn't at all uncommon to be called to pick up a stray at the last minute.

I'd never head out the door for the evening knowing there was an animal I could help, so although it would normally be the night staff's responsibility, I assured Mandy that I would accompany them on the rescue. Again, this wasn't out of the ordinary, but still my normally trusting boss seemed apprehensive. "This seems like a touchy case. Are you sure? I can take responsibility for it." I assured her that she could go home for the night.

Mandy was my mentor for the first decade we knew each other, teaching me everything she knew about humanely rescuing and adopting out animals, though the latest few years we've been more at equals. I can do anything she can do, so it was strange that she would question my capability at all.

Still, she conceded and explained the situation, albeit briefly as she had mentioned that it was a time-sensitive emergency.

"SPD called us with a possible vicious animal case after 911 was dispatched to a residence in which a man was threatening his own life. When EMT and SPD arrived, they found that the guy had some kind of dog locked up in a back room, but the thing is either terrified or possibly feral, because it's barking and snarling so loud that nobody will go back there to get it. I could hear it on the phone, it was so damn loud..."

Again she seemed apprehensive to let me go, and I could tell she wanted to say more, but I was already in emergency mode. Grabbing the keys for one of our rescue vans from behind the counter, I repeated again that I could handle it, and would call her if it was an absolute emergency. I met up with a young volunteer, Russ, and we set out to the location.

The drive was a little long, but soon pavement turned to gravel and the lines of houses turned into uneven rows of single-wide and double-wide trailers. It was only a few minutes after that when the lights of all the police vehicles started to become more visible in the distance.

The trailer we pulled up to was isolated from the rest by two empty lots where other single-wides used to stand on either side. Now all that was left were the cement foundations, which were littered with garbage likely belonging to the arrested resident. Even inside the car, parked behind several cop cars, Russ and I could hear the barking and the snarling.

Many of the neighboring residents had gathered at the very edges to look on. Meanwhile, several officers kept the crowd calm and talked among themselves, though it didn't seem like anyone was truly in a rush to even go near the trailer.

A rather tall and buff looking officer noticed our van parked and called out to a few officers around, who accompanied him as he briskly jogged over to our location. I hopped out of the drivers side and slammed the door closed, latch meeting home just as the officers arrived. "Hey! Thanks for coming!" One of them, a tiny brunette with a tight ponytail, called out. "We.... Well, really don't know what to make of this one!" The buff one added.

Almost as if on cue, the animal inside let out a rather loud growl that brought everything to a standstill for a moment.

There was a hush, but Ponytail snapped out of it first. "We don't really know what the story is. The subject has already been taken into custody and is on his way to get the care he needs. Real delusional, though. Probably crazy."

Muscles cut in. "Wasn't crazy to be afraid of that dog." He let out a forced chuckle but said nothing more, letting us get down to business. Russ grabbed a plastic kennel as well as a lead, collar, and restraining pole.

Here's the thing; we weren't terribly shocked by this situation. Russ and I always go into any rescue with a normal level of apprehension and in cases like this, that's much higher. Still, it definitely wasn't the first time we'd shown up to a scene like this and totally defused the situation in minutes. The cases that seem more dangerous always resolve themselves faster. We thought this would turn out the same.

The two of us stepped onto the porch and even before we opened the door, the sound was loud enough to make you want to cover your ears. The barks were deep, crazy low compared to anything I'd heard in all my years rescuing animals. Still, we continued inside.

The first thing that stood out was the lack of.... anything inside the trailer. It's not uncommon to find folks squatting in abandoned trailers around here but this place was SPOTLESS. No furniture. No clutter. Not a single speck of dust or dirt. Nothing like the environment outside. It almost seemed like an empty rental. Despite the look, though, there was a kind of smell. Not a scent, more of a presence in the air. Hot. It burnt the nose.

"Well it doesn't sound like this one's gonna get any nicer the longer we stand here. Let's do it." Russ decided, and I nodded. He was right; strangeness aside, the job needed to be done.

We put together a plan, although it was flimsy.

We found some garbage outside that we could use to guard ourselves. I had a toddler mattress, Russ had a large slab of plywood. We'd open the door to the back bedroom. It would then either charge us, we'd have to coax it out, or just go in and grab the thing if all else failed. I barricaded myself off to the side of the bedroom, in a small alcove to the left that would normally house a washer and dryer. He braced himself down the hall, facing the bedroom door. If it came blasting out, Russ could take the hit. I wasn't strong enough to brace against a giant charging dog but I was cunning enough to coax a confused animal hiding in a dark room out.

My partner signaled that he was ready, I counted to three, and the door swung open before I could get a grasp on the knob. It was as if the motion stole the sound from inside the room because growls ceased to reverberate through the metal shell of the trailer.

For a moment, it seemed like we were just waiting, but nothing emerged from the room. I couldn't see much inside from the angle I'd barricaded myself into and it still looked extremely dark in there. I started making kissy noises and listening for a possible reaction. Nothing. Silence. "Russ? Anything?" He had barricaded himself just out of my line of vision.

Again, silence. I had started to sweat some time before, but hadn't noticed until the silence had set in. I was drenched in it by then, and the room was so unbearably hot. It hadn't been a few moments before, though the smell in the air betrayed it. I called out to Russ again and, instead, was met with a response from inside the room. A powerful, aggressive growl.

In situations like this, we're trained to use gentle approach with calm speech.

"It's okay little baby." I whispered out. "C'mon." The aggression died down for a second, so I did it again, and again, and again while trying my best to peer into the pitch black room and catch a glimpse of the animal we were trying to rescue. Nothing moved, though the growling weakened.

I called out for Russ again, no response. The sound upset the animal again, so I resigned myself to the idea that my co-worker would be no help.

Gentle speech worked for a while but once the growling wouldn't quiet anymore, I turned to the treats. I grabbed a marble sized bit from a baggie in my pocket that smelled something like bacon. As lightly as I could, I tossed it into the room.

Usually, you expect one of two sounds; the small little pitter of the treat hitting the floor, or the quiet slap of dog jowls. The growling ceased, but no other sound came from the room. I leaned over my makeshift barricade as far as I felt safe. Again, the room was entirely black. A window should have been directly in my view, but it wasn't.

Something emerged from the darkness. The treat I'd tossed rolled out into the hallway and stopped perfectly in front of my barricade.

I stared down at it for a moment before a blasting bark, feeling warm and moist as if it were right next to my face, cracked into my eardrum and frightened me back into the corner. The growling resumed afterwards and, for a moment, I considered running away.

Maybe it just felt like a last-ditch effort before high-tailing it out of there, but I started reasoning with it, or maybe I was just trying to replace some of the gentle talk with something less repetitive. "We're just trying to help little guy." I cooed. "It's gonna be okay. We're going to find a home for you, I promise."

The sound from inside the room changed. Still a snarl but somehow more distant. Quiet. Small. It seems stupid, but I kept going. "Someone out there is gonna love you. Just let me help you, little baby."

The heat, and the burning smell, started to recede. The growl had gone, and there was an overall pressure that lifted. It almost made it easier to think. I called out to Russ again, but still got no response, although the noise didn't cause an upset this time. Finally, I found the courage to stand up. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight.

It seemed, already, like the darkness had somehow receded. I actually thought the sun was coming up, I could finally see that back window.

I shined the light into the room.

Like the rest of the trailer, it was devoid of clutter or furniture. Except a tiny wicker rocking chair, which inside sat a bisque porcelain doll. She was pale with glass eyes that were green and spiral curls that were dark brown. Next to her, there was a red gasoline can and a BIC lighter, like someone had set to burn her.

I almost couldn't believe it. I started shining the flashlight all around the room, but there wasn't even a closet to hide in.

Confused, I turned back to the other end of the hallway to relay my findings to Russ.

The plywood that had been used for the other barricade had a huge, black burn in it. Bits of the edges were still orange with heat. Behind it, my slightly burned colleague lay unconscious.

In a few moments, I would learn that the aforementioned exchange only lasted fifteen minutes - a half an hour tops, although it felt like hours. The rest of that evening moved much quicker. Russ suffered second degree burns on his arms and was quickly carted off to the hospital. The authorities started dispatching officers to survey the area for the assumed escaped "dog" while others pressured neighbors back into their home. Meanwhile, I called Mandy, who gave me strict instructions to follow immediately. Somehow, I knew she'd know what to do.

By this time, there were only two officers in charge of guarding the scene from curious pedestrians and journalists. I lied, telling them I'd forgotten an expensive piece of equipment inside.

I guess she didn't seem all that strange to anyone else on the scene. Although I'd suspected at first that they might take her for evidence, she still sat there in her rocking chair. Perfect curls popped out from a magenta-colored bonnet. One fragile leg dangled off the edge of the rocking chair, while the other was bent underneath it. I grabbed the entire chair and carried her back outside, joking out an excuse to the officers. "My Mom loves these things." They didn't seem to care.

To my surprise, Mandy was waiting for me when I brought the van - and the doll - back to the shelter. She seemed tightly-wound and concerned, but she took the porcelain juju off of my hands before sending me home for the night without another word beyond thanking me for doing the job.

I would come back the next morning to find the doll, rocking chair and all, sitting in Mandy's office. That's where she stays, as far as today, and our staff treat her as if she's a living part of the family. This is only done at the request of our boss - who is convinced she can find a home for the thing.

Minus a few instances that could just as easily be written off as coincidence, things have been pretty uneventful since.

Russ, however, has refused to return to the shelter.

[the-bounce-back]

THE CONFIDENCE CHRONICLES PART V - CONFIDENCE IN YOUR CONFIDENCE

This is post 5/5 of my “Confidence Chronicles” series, in which I discuss the mindsets, actions and thought processes I’ve applied to build/rebuild my confidence in different aspects of my life. The goal of these 5 posts is for you readers to be able to apply relevant points to your own insecurities in order to combat them, and hopefully build your own confidence over time.

—————————————————————

So… we’re finally at the last post of the Confidence Chronicles. It’s taken its sweet (long-ass) time, but we finally got there in the end. Furthermore, it’s almost exactly a year ago since the idea for this series popped into my head, so this really has ended up coming full circle… albeit unintentionally. Not going to lie, it’s kind of a bittersweet feeling - it’s going to feel strange to not focus so heavily on confidence anymore, but on the other hand… I don’t have to focus so heavily on confidence anymore. Finally, I can bring my other post ideas that have been collecting dust in my drafts to life!

The funny thing is that although I started this series with a plan for what I was going to write about in each post, I never actually settled on what aspect of my confidence I wanted to end this series with. I figured that when the time came to write this, I would have a clear idea of what would be an appropriate note to wrap up the series on. 

Of course, at that point in time I didn’t know that the latter half of 2019 was going to turn my life upside down. I didn’t know that I was going to find myself in a massive slump due to stress, confusion and anxiety over my career, my direction and purpose in life and my role in the grand scheme of the world. I know it all sounds very melodramatic and like an excuse to not apply myself to complete my projects - which might be partially true - but the truth is that these questions have been weighing on me for a long time. Long before I started working on my mental health, long before I started this blog, long before moving back to the UK. I’ve been able to ignore these feelings for a long time, but lately they’ve been making themselves extremely hard to avoid. I think that the reason lies in that I’m soon going to be on what society likes to call the “wrong” side of 25, and that I still feel like I’m figuring out where my life is going… i.e. running around like a headless chicken.

However, this blog has really forced me to confront my fears in a way that counselling or confiding in someone I trust ever could - simply because it makes me work through my innermost thoughts and feelings alone. Attempting to address deeply buried issues in order to make my peace with them so I can move past it has been a very triggering process, and also extremely reliant on trial and error.

When you make an error in your healing process, it can be devastating and a major setback in your daily life. But when you get it right… the pain and hard work all becomes worth it. Trust me. There is nothing more satisfying than thinking of a past situation that used to make you feel like you had the weight of the world of the shoulders, and realising that although it felt like it at the time, it didn’t kill you. Hell, you’d even be able to go through it again and be confident you can make it through again, if you had to. One day you’ll even be able to laugh at the situations that once tore you down, and with your newfound confidence be able to realise that at the end of the day… it wasn’t that deep (or, at least, not deep enough to kill you).

For this reason, I want to tie the messages from the previous posts of this Confidence Chronicles series together to make this post - confidence in your newfound confidence. Once you build a solid foundation of confidence in all aspects of your life, the next step is learning to adjust to the newfound energy, positivity and motivation that this confidence manifests itself as. I personally learned (and - in certain cases - am still learning) how to harness this “power” in the following ways: 

1. Slowly but surely trusting myself to believe in my own capabilities.

Do you want to know something that’s funny but at the same time not  funny? If not, tough sh*t because here it comes: despite writing so extensively about confidence, my own levels of confidence are somewhat unreliable at best.

As I’ve mentioned countless times before, I never write blog posts when I’m in a bad place mentally. In fact, every single post (except one) on here is written when I’m in a great mood, my mind is clear, my confidence levels are unbeatable and I can write about my bad times in an objective manner that doesn’t end up making me sad. A quick scroll through my past posts prove that it’s so easy to assume that I’m 100% over the hard things that I’ve written about on here, simply because I’ve become so good at realising my own past mistakes and how I should move forward. However, in reality, there’s usually not a day that goes by without the topics crossing my mind.

I’ve been told many a time by friends that while I’m excellent at giving advice and knowing exactly what measures to take to get over a situation, I’m not very good at applying said advice to myself. It’s very true, and very frustrating - reading my own posts back makes me realise that I already have the tools and capabilities required to be able to heal, but so far I only seem to be able to use these tools when I’m in a good place. For this reason, I struggle a fair amount with self-doubt in my authenticity as a mental health blogger, because what’s the point of preaching about self-love, self-care and bettering your mental health if your own mental health is in a complete shambles from time to time?

However, it’s not all bad, because the more I apply myself to think of solutions, apply said solutions to my own life and start seeing the benefits of constantly working on myself, the more confident I become that one day I’ll get to a stage where I can confidently write about my issues without this nagging feeling that I’m a fraud. Additionally, g-checking myself from time to time and making sure that I am actually following my own advice makes me increasingly more secure in the knowledge that I am extremely emotionally intelligent and do have enough experience to change my own life, as well as others’. 

I think the main thing here is to keep on doing whatever it is you’re trying to improve upon, and allow yourself to appreciate how far you’ve come on your journey as opposed to solely focusing how long you have to go. Regardless of if you’re doubting your capabilities in the workplace, your body goals, your ability to adapt to new situations or your creative ventures - or a combination of all four - it’s important to acknowledge and celebrate your progress.

Giving yourself a well-deserved pat on the back and focusing on how far you have come since the beginning gives you the chance to fully appreciate the hard work you’ve put in towards bettering yourself - which leads to you gradually feeling confident in trusting the power in your own capabilities over time.

2. Stopping the negative self-talk.

As it so happens, I have quite a dark and self-deprecating sense of humour - and so do many of my friends and my sister. Calling myself and others every offensive name under the sun as a joke is something that used to occur on a near daily basis, under the guise that it was all harmless banter. I’ve literally been doing this for as long as I can remember, but the past few months or so, I’ve really been trying to stop for a few reasons.

The main reason is that regardless of how harmless belittling your intelligence and capabilities as a joke may seem, doing it on a regular basis can lead to you internalising these notions and gradually starting to believe them. Although I genuinely thought that I was mentally resilient enough to be able to separate jokes from reality, whenever I’d fall into a bit of slump the first things that would come into my head were the things I’d said about myself as a joke. They would sting a lot, because in those moments I would genuinely believe them.

“God, I’m such a dumb b*tch”.

“Ugh, when did I become such a d*ckhead?”

“I swear to God.... I f*cking hate myself”

“Oh, great, so on top of being a dumb b*tch - I’m also a fat b*tch. Excellent”.

The mad thing is that I’m actually laughing while writing this, simply because I’m in a positive state of mind and know that it’s all a joke. I know I’m neither dumb, a d*ckhead, or fat. Nor do I hate myself anymore. But as soon as that Sunday night sadness hits (I know you all know what I’m talking about!), there I am - trying to choke back tears because I’ve managed to delude myself into thinking that the above is, in fact, true. For this reason, I’ve also tried to stop doing it to my friends, because I’d hate to think that they may be internalising something mean that I’ve said to them as a jOkE.

It’s also interesting to think why self-deprecating humour comes so easily to a lot of us. I can only speak for myself and certain friends that are similar to me in this aspect, but I genuinely think it’s because we’ve - very sadly - grown accustomed to being verbally abused and/or having our weaknesses constantly being picked at during our formative years - either in our home environments, school environments, or both. Instead of devising healthier methods of coping with and eliminating these internalisations, we’ve become reliant on using humour as a source of escapism from our nagging insecurities cast upon us by people around us. 

When I started seeing self-deprecating humour in this light, it actually made me quite sad. There I was, thinking that I should get into comedy for being so hilarious, when really it turned out to be just me being too scared to deal with my own insecurities. That’s when I knew things needed to change, and I’ve been working on this ever since.

Personally, the easiest way for me to reduce my negative self-talk has been to try to visualise how I would feel if a stranger (it used to be friends, but then I remembered that most of my friends are as tapped as I am) was saying it to me. I soon realised that if it had come from anyone else but myself or my friends, I’d be ready to throw hands over this literal verbal abuse. I am now trying my best to speak to and treat myself in the same way that a stranger or acquaintance would - with dignity, respect, honesty and with a regard for my own feelings (because, lo and behold, it is possible to be brutally honest and kind at the same time).

Of course, this is so much easier said than done - especially if you, like me, love a cheeky self-drag and dragging others (out of love, of course). However, this doesn’t have to mean that you can stop having fun - I’ve found that an eloquently worded drag meant to act as a wake-up call for me/someone else to improve my/their situation without having to resort to insults and name-calling is infinitely more creative, satisfying and efficient. Furthermore, I’ve found that g-checks that are based on constructive criticism as opposed to cruel insults give you a clearer image of how to improve yourself moving forward - which can only be a good thing.

Basically, just be patient and kind to yourself and others. Take on the constructive criticism received from yourself and your friends/family to work towards bettering yourself, and your confidence will follow.

3. Learning to trust the feelings of positivity and self-love.

This is by far the hardest one for me - and for good reason. When you’ve spent a large part of your teenage years and early adulthood believing that your capabilities and strengths are inadequate, that you’re ugly, that you’re not worthy of love and happiness, that your life has no purpose and that your family and friends would be better off without you, it’s nearly impossible to break free from this toxic downward spiral and to unlearn all of the behaviours and thought processes that have manifested as a result of these feelings. 

The keyword here is nearly.

Obviously, I can only speak for myself, but I would like to think that this could be applied to others as well. When I started this jOuRnEy, I honestly thought I’d never get to a place where I genuinely love every aspect of myself. Despite this, I kept pushing myself through the extremely triggering task of unpacking my toxic feelings - until one day I suddenly didn’t have them anymore. Or, at the very least, they suddenly no longer hurt me. Seemingly out of nowhere... I felt okay.

The sad but still understandable thing about suddenly coming to terms with who you are, what you’ve been through and feeling confident enough to move forward is that you don’t trust the feeling at first. At all. You tell yourself that it’s just one of the little upswings before everything comes crashing down around you again, dragging you back to step one, and you try to mentally prepare yourself for said downfall to happen.

But it doesn’t.

Sure, you might have little dips every now and again. You know that healing isn’t a linear process, so you assume that these little dips will lead to you spiralling again. But, to your surprise, they don’t - and you find yourself picking yourself up, dusting yourself off, and moving forward with your life relatively unscathed and with more experience and wisdom than before. You start to get suspicious and a little scared because things are actually going alright for once. You’ve become so used to your life being so riddled with anxiety, insecurity, sadness and chaos and the good times being fleeting, that this new reality is extremely alien to you. 

This is where things can go one out of two ways.

Either your anxiety kicks in and you start self-sabotaging in different ways because you’re afraid that the longer things are going well, the harder the fall is going to be - so you might as well save yourself the pain by not pursuing things that could allow you to be happy. Or, you are able to tentatively start trusting and accepting the waves of love and positivity as your new reality - making you find the strength and confidence to move forward despite the past pain and hurt.

Personally, it took several rounds of self-sabotaging before getting to the point of learning to trust the positive feelings and  my confidence in all aspects of myself. I try not to beat myself up over all the opportunities I’ve turned down simply due to genuinely believing that I’m not good/smart/pretty/talented enough, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make me sad from time to time. However, the more time that passes I get more and more confident that new, even better opportunities will come up for me - and I’ll be confident enough to embrace them without any hesitation when the time comes.

To wrap up this whole Confidence Chronicles series, I want to leave you all with this simple but true statement:

It gets better - if you’re willing to put in the work.

Regardless of which of the posts resonated with you the most, I need you to understand that building confidence takes time. I would even go as far as saying that it’s a never-ending journey, and that the learning to fully love and trust yourself and your capabilities is a never-ending process as life progresses. However, the more you work hard on your own betterment, the easier and smaller the challenges that arise from time to time become.

My ultimate wish is that we all one day can get to a place where we can trust ourselves enough to be happy and confident, regardless of what life throws at us. That whenever things that would usually send us down that spiral again pop up, we can just take a deep breath, count to ten, and be confident in the knowledge that the situation no longer has power over us, and that we will easily be able to work through it.

Until that day comes - never stop fighting.

Love,

Liv

[shastelly]

Distance - March Klance Prompts from MonthlyKlance - Day 14

Author’s note:  Sorry for falling behind, been fighting a stomach bug, my mom had knee surgery, kid had a class field trip, and honestly was feeling a bit overwhelmed and needed some sleep and a break.  Coming back to ya refreshed and ready to write :)

Three thousand five hundred and forty meters, that's how far away Lance was when the Galra soldier got the drop on me.  That's how far he was when his voice whispered through my com.

 "Don't move."

 My heart pounded and muscles tensed with the need to move, to defend myself and my team from the threat I could feel at my back, but then, even before I could finish that though a loud pop sounded and something heavy thudded on the ground behind me.  Over two miles and I turned around to see the Galra, wicked blade still in hand, with a perfect hole between his eyes.

 I look back in the direction I knew Lance was and whispered over the com, "Thanks."

 "Got your back, Samurai," echoed back to me.

 Pidge and Hunk were kneeling a few meters in front of me.  Allura was on the other side of the street.  We weren't even in place yet, there wasn't supposed to be any resistance yet, I had not expected Lance to make that kind of shot.  I guess, maybe I had underestimated his ability. He'd whined as much at the mission prep, but we'd dismissed him.  A kernel of guilt wormed its way in my gut.  He'd found a suitable spot for a sniper nest at about half that distance away from his drop off point from the one I’d picked.  The one he was headed to required he move a significant distance alone, but we hadn't expected resistance in that area, of course we hadn’t expected resistance in the area I was in either.  

 "Keep your eyes open, Sharpshooter, if we have unexpected company here, you could there."  I hissed in concern.

 "No worries, just using my ninja skills to bypass the unfriendlies." came the reply.

 Shit, bypass, meant leaving people at his back.

 "Impact on your escape route?" I snap.

 "Could be interesting?"  His nervousness edged into his attempt at humor.

 "Quiznak." Why couldn't anything go as planned?

 "I got this, I'm good."  Lance muttered.

 "I don't like it."  I really didn’t.

 "I know, but so far, there isn't anything here that says no go to me.  I got this."  He restated firmly.

 "Okay, but you let me know as soon as it changes, right?"  I asked just a touch desparate.  I trust Lance for a lot of things but telling me when he's in trouble isn't really one of them.

 "Would I risk this beautiful body?"  Lance asked mock indignation dripping through the com.

 "Yes!" I, Hunk, Pidge, and Allura all answered at nearly the same time.

 Lance made some sort of sound, but wisely chose not to comment further.

 I'd like to say the plan had been simple, but in truth it hadn't.  We had received word from the Blades that there was a high-ranking political prisoner on this world.  We have hopes that it could be one of the Holts or Shiro, but either way, high ranking prisoner seems worth extracting.  The prison, according to the intel, is in the basement of one of the bombed-out buildings in the center of this dead town, that sort of looked like Chicago, if the buildings in Chicago were green and Lake Michigan was yellow, oh and if it had been bombed and destroyed about a thousand years ago.  

 Due to the obscure location and top-secret nature of the facility, the guard was supposed to be relatively small, with very few patrols in the city surrounding, most concentrated in the two-block area surrounding the prison.  The plan then was for Lance to take up a cover position in a ten-story building about 1000 m from the prison.  It had a covered garden on the roof and Lance would be able to move all around the building without risk of being seen by anyone from the ground or the air.  Lance had originally picked a twenty-story building about 1600 m away where he had argued he could switch floors or sides of the building easily as it was all glass, but I had been concerned about the distance and him having to move so much. We had dropped him off at a site that provided a direct route to the building and then the rest of us were on the ground team, move in and take the prison and free the prisoner.  

 Except now we had met their third patrol since the one that got a drop on me. Lance had mentioned at least one as far out as he was.  Either their intel was bad, or something had changed.  I was getting a very bad feeling about the whole situation.

 Two thousand meters, the distance to the cloaked Green Lion on the shore of the weird yellow lake.  Hunk had pondered whether it was natural or pollution.  As he had said, it wasn't a very nice kind of yellow.  Pidge called it Piss lake, and I honestly couldn't argue with her, it smelled too.

 "I've reached the building.  Starting up. I won't have good eyes on you." Lance warned.

 I nodded to Allura who had point and she nodded back.  She had heard and understood.  I had asked the others to go radio silence as we made our way through the city and I would maintain contact with Lance to reduce chatter and our chance of discovery.  I was bringing up the rear, so in theory it meant I shouldn't risk discovery.  Of course, that hadn't played out exactly like that a few dobashes ago, but I stand by the theory.

 "Okay, Lance, let us know when you reach the top.  We are still two thousand meters out."  I returned.

 The rubble was thicker here and moving had to be slow or we would be causing a lot of noise and dust.  Given the patrols we'd observed, that didn't seem like a good idea.  Allura held up her hand and we all took cover.  Allura practically blending with the wall.  I think she may have actually used her shifting ability like a chameleon.  Pidge just disappeared and Hunk, well he found a door to duck into, subtlety and sneaking were not his things.  I crouched behind a large chunk of building as the patrol moved through the street. All droids, six of them.  The feeling of something being wrong was building. Droid patrols were hard to miss, even in this environment with the buildings.  They were too routine, timed - there was no reason this shouldn't have been included in the intel.  So again was it a change or bad intel and at this point bad intel pointed to betrayal.

 "Guys, I'm not liking this."  I muttered into the coms.  "The intel stinks, either they've been warned we are coming are this has been a set up all along."

 "I'm there."  Pidge whispered.

 "Me too."  Hunk chimed.

 "The problem is if it's just that they know we are coming, is the prisoner still real?"  Allura asked.

 And that was the real question at this point.  It was a trap, but what was the trap baited with?  Would I walk into a trap for Shiro?  Hell yes.  Would I lead the team into one for him?  I didn't want to have to answer that.

 "Keith, if we can get closer, I can scan for the prison.  I can get a good reading on the basements of these buildings and about four buildings ahead.  So, either I'll see it, or see where I'm being blocked, or I'll see nothing." Pidge offered.

 "Okay, move forward, eyes open."  I decided.  We needed more information I told myself.

 "Eyes in the sky."  Lance chuckled.  "The patrol is well past, you are clear to move."  He was more than a little winded and I wondered if he had run up the whole ten stories.

 One hundred meters to target we had run into three additional droid only patrols, and now we found our first actual soldiers.  

 "Patrol, and this one had two live ones in it."  Lance called.  We dove into hiding.

 "Hunk, I can see you man, try the doorway behind you and to your left." Lance advised the yellow paladin. I watched him scurry to the new location, hand tightened around my blade fearful of hearing the patrol coming.  

 "Further back, Hunk."  I heard Hunk sigh and movement.  "Okay, good, you're good Buddy."  Lance seemed relieved.  I felt my grip relax.  If Lance couldn't spot him, then he was safe.

 The patrol made its way slowly through the street and we managed to go undetected. The two live soldiers kept their eyes roaming but did not see us.  I let the rest of my body relax when they were a block past us.

 When they were three blocks and had turned the corner, Lance gave us the all clear to move.  This was about the point I had expected to run into patrols, but the feeling of wrongness wasn't leaving.  The guards were too alert.  They didn't look like guards assigned to patrol a prison that no one knew about. My skin crawled.

 "Pidge, before we move, can you run a scan here, just see if you can get a read on what's ahead?"  I asked quietly.

 "Yeah."  A few moments passed.  "The terrain matches the intel we received.  I picked up on at least six patrols moving in the about hundred-meter radius I can pick up their signatures.  That won't account for any patrols that might not have droids.  This isn't lightly guarded, this is locked up tight."  Pidge worried.  I knew she wanted this as bad as I did, probably worse as even if it wasn't Shiro it could be a family member.

 "Lance, what do you see?"  I asked.

 "Be still and I'll look around."  He ordered.  "Okay, confirm, five, no six patrols, all mixed droids and live.  They do seem to be circling a central point, that matches the intel…give me a dobash or two."  We could hear movement from Lance.  He must be changes angles for another view on the target. "Something's wrong."  He muttered.

 "What? What do you see?"  I whisper.

 "I can't put my finger on it.  I'm seeing it, but I just feel something wrong.  Sorry, I'll let you know if it comes to me.  I'm moving back.  Wait till I'm in place, okay?"  Lance moved again and after a dobash or two.  "Okay, you are clear to move.  Plan to stop at the next block to wait out the next patrol."

 Fifty meters to the target and the second patrol had passed.  Lance had shifted to his secondary location now and was covering our final approach.

 "Clear."  Lance called.

 At this point I could see the target.  The building was leveled.  There was a stairway behind about a two-foot wall, all that apparently remained of the previous building.  

 "Okay, how close for the scan, Pidge?"  

 "I can try here, but about ten more meters would be better."  She whispered back.

 "The building on the right, with the long windows."  Lance spoke through the coms.  "It is clear, and you could take some time to get the scans done and not worry about patrols."

 "What if someone goes in?"  Hunk murmured into the coms as they entered the building.

 No one answered him and Pidge began her work.

 "What if…"  Lance mumbled something.

 "I didn't copy Lance, what was that?"  I felt my gut churning at this point my instincts said run.

 "It's just what Hunk said, what is they go…Quiznak!  Get out of there.  It's a set up.  It has to be. That is what was bothering me.  No one has gone in or out of that quiznaking stairway!"  Lance snarled.

 Just as he said that Pidge echoed, "It's just a basement, just like all the others in this area, and it’s empty," concern coloring her tone.  

 "This is a trap, nothing more."  Allura stated flatly disappointment coloring her tone. "There was never anything here to find.  We need to pull out and contact the Blade.  Their agent has either gone to the other side or been discovered."

 I cringed. Blades didn't get turned, but they did get killed, far too frequently, "I'll send them a notice as soon as we reach Green."

 "Lance, you read, that's a fall back."  I turned as I spoke checking the door.  

 "Okay, you have a patrol, that needs to pass, and then…this is a really bad trap, I mean did they think we were stupid and would just come in guns blazing, where is the trap?"  Lance worried.  "Be still while that patrol passes, let me get a look around."

 We waited as the patrol outside went past - ten droids and two galra this time.  As soon as it was far enough past, I made my way over to Pidge.  

 "Anything change on the scan?"  

 "What, no the basement is still a…what…wait a minute?  That was the only patrol in my radius?"  Pidge looked up shocked.

 "Quiznak!"  Lance nearly yelled.

 "What?"

 "I found your patrols.  They are surrounding Green.  She has her particle shield up, but there are at least 100 droids and probably twenty flesh in blood soldiers around her."  Lance spat the words.  He knew they'd been played.  "I should have been watching where they went.  I'm sorry Keith."

 "Not your fault."  I reassured. The last thing I needed right now was him taking blame.  "Lance, I…have you checked your neighborhood?"  The bad feeling was starting to get a lot worse.

 "I…no."  A brief pause in which I really hoped he'd laugh and tell me I was wrong.  "Oh, fuck."  

 "Lance?" I breathed.

 "I'm surrounded."  He stuttered. "They have the building surrounded, probably twenty droids and five soldiers at least.  I'm going to have to move.  I've got incoming up the stairs.  I can't cover you."

 "The quiznak, Lance, get out of there, we will worry about us."  I snarled.

 "Yeah, I'm going to try some rooftop jumping with the jet pack, see if I can get clear of them and get down.  I don't know if I can get to you."  He sounded unsure, nervous.

 "The jet pack is a good idea."  I assured. "Don't worry about finding us. We'll get to you."

 "Pidge, can we contact the castle?"  Allura was asking in the background.

 "I can't get a signal out.  They must be blocking us."  Pidge snarled in frustration.

 "Okay, going."  Lance's voice called over the com.  "I've got company coming up the stairs."  I could hear the sound him running and breathing heavily, and the background of shots being fired.

 Fifty feet was approximately how far Lance had to jump between buildings.  The jet packs could do that no problem, I had jumped much further.  However, Lance was being shot at.

 "Ow." Lance whispered between breaths.  "Okay, made it to the next roof.  I need to keep going.  I'm going to try to get ahead of them enough to get to the ground and get better cover. I'm not enjoying target practice when I'm the clay pigeon."

 "Lance, are you hit?"  Somehow, I knew that answer before I even asked.

 "Armor caught most of it," he muttered.

 "And what it didn't catch?" I rolled my eyes at his avoidance.

 "Pretty good graze on my leg, not critical, but," he paused.

 "It's slowing you down."  I answered. "Look try to head toward us and we'll head to you.  Okay?"

 "Yeah. Got to make another jump."  I could hear him breathing harder and the tension in his voice was clear.  "Shit."

 "Lance?!"  Lance generally didn't swear much more than quiznak and if he did there was usually a good reason.

 "…dio…damage…d…" and static filled the com.  

 His radio is just damaged I told myself, he's fine, just damage to the radio in his helmet on his head, no need to be concerned.  I turned to the concerned eyes of the team.  

 "Okay, we're going for Lance first.  Pidge see if you can track him.  Sounds like his radio is out, so it would be good to have a way to pinpoint him. We'll want his help getting Green and getting out of here."  As I spoke, I could see them pulling themselves together, pushing their own fears and concerns to the side.  We would do this for Lance.  We only had approximately 1000 meters to go.

 TO BE CONTINUED

   This story will be continued in Day 16 Rivalry

[yasbxxgie]

Kehinde Wiley on Self-Doubt and How He Made It as a Painter The artist behind Barack Obama’s presidential portrait talks about developing his skills at a junk store

By age 12, Kehinde Wiley had a reputation in his Los Angeles neighborhood for being a talented artist. Teachers at his school recommended him for a program during which he spent the summer of 1989 in Russia with 50 Soviet kids and 50 other Americans, creating murals, learning the Russian language and culture, hiking, swimming, and picking mushrooms. “It was a strange, magical time,” he recalls.

Wiley went on to study art at the San Francisco Art Institute and Yale. He now has a studio in Brooklyn, and Barack Obama chose him to paint a lively portrait of the former president that now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery.

I recently spoke with Wiley about traveling to Nigeria to meet his father for the first time after having painted portraits of him for years, dealing with criticism, and the importance of slowing down. This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.

***

Lola Fadulu: What was your mom’s work schedule like?

Kehinde Wiley: My mother, while raising six kids, had a number of small-business activities. The most prominent one in my memory was sort of like a junk store.

She would be away, in the earliest years, much of the day. Then she would be around more in the late afternoons, evenings. When we weren’t in school, we would be around the shop, and I remember learning Spanish dealing with a lot of the customers there.

Fadulu: Aside from learning Spanish, was there anything else you learned from those times you helped out in the store?

Wiley: I think I learned a sense of making something out of nothing, trying to dust off old items and seeing some level of value in them, recognizing that no one is going to help you.

Fadulu: Did your mom have any particular field or industry that she wanted you or your siblings to go into?

Wiley: Well, I remember as kids, we all had different passions, and she encouraged all of them. My twin brother and I would be going to art school as kids because there was a free program that allowed us to get off of the streets of South Central Los Angeles and spend our weekends studying art.

I remember my mother wanting me to go into preaching. She was taken by the fact that I was quite successful at some oratory competitions. She was going through a particularly religious fervor at that point in her life, and she encouraged me in that direction.

Fadulu: At that point, were you thinking about turning art into a career, or was it more of a hobby?

Wiley: In the beginning, it was much more of a hobby, and much more about just having an outlet for creative energy. Only later did it start to have real personal consequence.

Fadulu: When did that start to change?

Wiley: I was 12 years old. Russia was one of those programs that was a free program. It was an opportunity for me and 50 other American kids to go off into what was then the Soviet Union, and to study art in the forest outside of what was then called Leningrad, and is currently called Saint Petersburg.

We created a series of murals, and we had language classes and cultural exchange. And we would hike off into the forest, pick mushrooms, and swim. It was a strange, magical time. It allowed my sense of what was possible to blossom, at that very important age.

Fadulu: Did you know that you were a good artist when you were 12?

Wiley: Of course. That was my one bit of power in the world. That was the thing that got me positive attention, as opposed to so much negative attention that was coming at so many of my classmates at the time.

Fadulu: Would you consider helping your mom out in the store your first job?

Wiley: It was definitely my first job. I remember thinking about all of those bags and bags of clothes, and trying to figure out how to sort out different colors, and different types of fabrics, and how to organize things in terms of style and age. I remember looking at things that to me seemed like junk, but with a little bit of TLC, a coat of paint or something, is repositioned as something that people are willing to spend good money on.

That was my first job as a kid, but it wasn’t really positioned as a job, because it was just what you do. You lend a hand.

Fadulu: So, what was the first job you had that was positioned as a job?

Wiley: I think my first real job was actually going to work for the art school that I used to go to as a kid. While I was once an 11-year-old student at the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts’ Summer Arts Conservatory, which was housed on the campus of Cal State Los Angeles, I was later as a high-school student recruited, at first, as a teacher’s assistant, and then later as a teacher to teach drawing and painting to youngsters. I was 17 and 18, teaching 9- and 10-year-olds how to paint.

Fadulu: Is that when you were beginning to think about a career in art?

Wiley: My first thought was that no one makes it as a painter. I was just looking around at the landscape of contemporary art, which was pretty dry in Southern California during the ’90s. There was no modeling for success when it came to a job in the arts.

So I thought that my best option would probably be in arts education. So when I went to do my bachelor’s degree in fine arts at the San Francisco Art Institute immediately after high school, I assumed that I would probably study art and become an art teacher. While I enjoyed it very much as a high-school student, I didn’t really have a burning desire to be a teacher. I just knew that that would enable me to support my art habit.

Four years of arts education in San Francisco, then going off to graduate school on the East Coast at Yale, opened up a whole new set of possibilities. And perhaps for the first time I started to glimpse what it might mean to launch a successful career as a painter.

Fadulu: And where did you catch those glimpses of those other possibilities? I know you said you were at Yale, but what exactly were you seeing?

Wiley: What happens there is that while I’m painting in the graduate art studios, I’m also taking trips into the city with my classes, and having conversations with artists in their studios. I remember having classroom trips to art galleries and seeing actual exhibitions I was excited about. Being in the class with professors who are working artists, the light slowly started to turn on, and that sense of imagining myself as one of those people.

But still, there’s a lot of self-doubt, and there was also a really tough regime of criticism that arts education put me through, which enabled me to develop a really thick skin, but also caused me to doubt whether or not I had the chops to make it as a professional artist.

Fadulu: How did you deal with the self-doubt?

Wiley: I think a lot of it was being able to recognize the relative nature of a lot of the arguments that were being made in large classrooms. One art object could give rise to five different arguments, and depending on who was the most convincing, the success or failure of that art object would announce itself. It became increasingly obvious that it had very little to do with the art, and more to do with the environment in which the art was being consumed.

I had a strong sense that this school was an immense place to learn new ideas and histories, but also a potentially toxic place in which you can get caught up within the incredibly specific politics that each school gives rise to, and lose track of the broader target.

Fadulu: And didn’t you go to Nigeria to reconnect with your dad?

Wiley: Well, I connected, period. My father and mother broke up before I was born. He returns to Nigeria, and I’m never to see him until I’m 19. So, 1997,  I just decide on a whim that I’m going to go find him. A lot of it was a lot of buildup, emotional buildup. This constant desire to see who your father is, and just to know that connection. I think on another level it was about pushing myself, and knowing what I’m made of, whether or not I’m capable of pulling something like this off. There was a lot of teenage bravado going on there.

There was this incredible curiosity as a portrait painter, just—what does he look like? I began going to different universities asking if they knew who this guy was. I knew that he studied architecture in America.

So I would go to universities and go to their architecture departments and ask if anyone knew my father, and that didn’t work. Someone finally said that I should go, based on his last name, to southwestern Nigeria, where I then went to the University of Calabar. And his name was on the door of the department. He was the head of the architecture department. And nothing’s been the same since. There was a series of paintings that I did shortly after meeting him for the first time, where I was just obsessed with painting him, getting that out.

Fadulu: Was that trip what you thought it would be?

Wiley: No, not at all. I had this illusion that there would be arms wide open, and music would be playing, and that I would quickly and quite easily recognize this lost side of my African ancestry. And in fact, it was an incredibly difficult and exhausting process to find him. And by the time we did find each other, there was that strange moment of trying to figure out what each other and who each other was. What were my intentions as I showed up? What were my feelings toward him? It was incredibly complicated.

I think I was a bit naïve to think that all of those emotions would just simply be resolved by seeing him. In fact, it became much more difficult to come to terms with the feelings of resentment and abandonment than I had anticipated.

Fadulu: You said you became obsessed with painting portraits of him.

Wiley: There were a number of those that, to this day, I can’t find, because I sold off so much work as an undergrad. One of these days, I have to track this stuff down.

Fadulu: What was going through your mind when you heard from Obama about his portrait?

Wiley: Well, there was never really any point where I had the job. I heard they were considering a number of artists for this, and I was welcomed to be interviewed as they were down to a smaller group. But there was never any point where I just knew, until I knew. Back in 2016 even, I was in the Oval Office, incredibly nervous. And I was interviewing with the president about this potential job, still not knowing what it was going to be, but just feeling incredibly grateful for having been invited to have the conversation.

So every step along the way, it just became more and more real, and more and more possible.

Fadulu: So what was the interview like?

Wiley: Of course the president wanted to know what it is that I would bring to the picture. I spoke really honestly about what excited me about him and me being involved in this historical moment: the sense in which we both share that story of having African fathers and American mothers. That sort of journey to find the father, that yearning to try and create some sort of internationalist presence in our work.

I spoke about the possibilities, allegorically, of telling his story in a painting. And so what you end up with in that painting are some amazing botanicals that are visually captivating, but they also nod toward certain flowers that are prominent in Indonesia, certain leaves that are prominent in Hawaii, the state flower of Illinois, the flowers that are most commonly seen in the grasslands of Kenya.

All of those strange, forest-like spaces are behind him and pushing up and forward. Those were the things that I was discussing as a possibility, and I think that it must’ve set something right.

Fadulu: You said it became more real as you went through the process. Were you working at all on it before it was official?

Wiley: Oh, God, yeah. I had gone to photograph him, and that wasn’t quite right, so I went back and I photographed him again. There were months of just trying to figure out how to artificially create this type of image on the computer and approximate what it would look like, and then start doing studies and see what it looks like in the actual paint. It was a long time coming. But in the end, it was all worth it.

Fadulu: Those months of trying to figure out how to create it—were there any big lessons from that?

Wiley: Just slow down. The more important the portrait, the more nuance the likeness has to have, the slower you have to get. So I had to get smaller brushes, really concentrate on just doing small passages per day, rather than trying to do broad strokes. And so it was a very different type of painting. You can feel it, almost, when you look at that painting, it's a much more contemplative piece. But I got very familiar with his face.

Fadulu: How did you feel about its reception?

Wiley: Well, he told me, “This is what I do, I’m used to the national spotlight, the global spotlight, but you’re new to this, so get ready. It’s gonna be a big deal.” And boy, was it ever.

I’ve never seen a work of art go viral that way and become a global sensation. And, of course, you’re dealing with the culture wars, and powers and principalities, and the Republicans and the Democrats. It did come as a shock to see that people would get so excited as to start sending death notices and threatening letters and all of this.

It’s surprising, but when seen in the proper context, when seen as a type of cultural signpost, when that painting is seen as what it is, which is a moment of celebration for him and his high-water mark within our culture, then you recognize it’s bigger than you are.