#having a title card now makes re-reading them much easier

[pitchblackespresso]

Compilation of all my botw/totk comics in loose chronological order. The comics are standalone but follow the same continuity:

Repayment

Kass Remembers

Well-Studied

Lovers' Pond

Cooking Lessons

Dondon Origins (Dondon pt 1)

Perspective (Dondon pt 2)

Scientific Method (Dondon pt 3)

Not Her

Underpants Method

I will update the post as I make more comics (of which there inevitably will be).

[swiftllama]

Lyric Analysis ☀️🔍

1989TV Vault Tracks Edition

Hey guys! So my girl is back, this time with the re-record of the iconic 1989! When the vault track titles were first announced they sounded so coded, and the songs have delivered 🙌

So let’s jump right in!

‘Say Don’t Go’

Mainly from Anthony’s POV with the chorus being from Ian’s.

“I’m standing on a tightrope alone / I hold my breath a little bit longer / Halfway out the door, but it won't close / I'm holding out hope for you to / Say, "Don't go" / I would stay forever if you say, "Don't go".”

Anthony wanting Ian to fight for him before he left, to tell him “Don’t go”. If Ian had said that he would’ve stayed. Ian was the only thing that could make him stay.

“Why'd you have to lead me on? / Why’d you have to twist the knife? / Walk away and leave me bleeding, bleeding? / Why’d you whisper in the dark? / Just to leave me in the night? / Now your silence has me screaming, screaming.”

Ian POV. Why did Anthony lead him on and say they were still friends? Why did he “twist the knife” that had already wounded him? Why did he “walk away and leave” him? All these questions, and Anthony’s “silence had him screaming”.

“Now I'm pacing on shaky ground / Strike a match, then you blow it out / Oh no, oh no, it's not fair… / Oh no, oh no, you're not there.”

With the sun and magnifying glass analogy and that spark of their connection creating fire, also the incorporation of ‘fire’ in Anthony’s tattoos, these lyrics of course stood out to me. Them “pacing on shaky ground” without each other. Feeling the other blew out that fire between them.

“I'm standing on the sidewalk alone / I wait for you to drive by / I'm trying to see the cards that you won't show / I'm about to fold unless you / Say, “Don’t go”.”

Reminds me of what Anthony has said about not being able to read Ian at that time, but how he wanted to understand him but Ian didn’t want to “show his cards”.

“Why'd you have to (Why'd you have to) / Make me want you (Make me want you)? / Why'd you have to (Why'd you have to) / Give me nothing back? / Why'd you have to (Why'd you have to) / Make me love you (Make me love you)? / I said, "I love you" (I said, "I love you") / You say nothing back.”

Both POV. Why did the other have to mean so much to them? Why couldn’t they just move past this? It would make the silence between them so much easier to bear. But they did want each other. They did love each other. So them getting “nothing back” hurt so much more.

‘Now That We Don’t Talk’

Mainly seen from Ian’s POV and what he said about watching Anthony from the outside. See the chorus’ from Anthony’s POV.

“You went to a party / I heard from everybody… / Don't even get me started / Did you get anxious though / On the way home? / I guess I'll never ever know / Now that we don't talk.”

Ian hearing about what Anthony was up to, hearing about him going to a party but knowing Anthony, and knowing Anthony’s anxiety and wondering how he was feeling. Ian will never know though, “now that they don’t talk”.

“You grew your hair long / You got new icons / And from the outside / It looks like you're trying lives on / I miss the old ways / You didn't have to change / But I guess I don't have a say / Now that we don't talk.”

Again, Ian watching from the outside. Anthony’s looks changing. Him floundering trying to find his identity outwith Smosh. But Anthony “didn’t have to change” in Ian’s eyes. He misses the old Anthony. But Ian doesn’t have a say anymore.

“I call my mom, she said that it was for the best / Remind myself the more I gave, you'd want me less / I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost / And what it cost, now that we don't talk.”

Anthony confiding in his mom, her telling him it was for the best he left given how badly being there was affecting him. Him coming up with reasons to justify and remind himself in his own mind why he wasn’t contacting Ian. It’s like what was talked about in the journal video, about when he would try to open up to Ian and it was met with suspicion so Ian would give him nothing back, ��remind myself the more I gave, you’d want me less.” So because of that Anthony cannot be his friend, but he pays the price for what he lost.

“What do you tell your friends we / Shared dinners, long weekends with? / Truth is, I can't pretend it's / Platonic, it's just ended, so.”

Both POVs. Wondering what the other was telling their friends. Neither of them having an answer, because the truth is, it did just end.

“I call my mom, she said to get it off my chest (Off my chest) / Remind myself the way you faded 'til I left (Until I left) / I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost (Of what I lost) / And what it cost, now that we don't talk.”

Anthony’s POV again for the second chorus. This time reminding himself of how Ian, in his eyes, was a different person than he knew, that person he knew had “faded”.

“Guess maybe I am better off now that we don't talk / And the only way back to my dignity / Was to turn into a shrouded mystery / Just like I had been when you were chasing me / Guess this is how it has to be now that we don't talk.”

Ian’s POV. Him trying to rationalise and soften the blow by trying to convince himself that maybe he is better off now that they don’t talk. Him becoming a “shrouded mystery” to protect himself, just like he had done when Anthony was “chasing” him, trying to get him to open up. Ian guessed this was the way it had to be.

‘Suburban Legends’

Mainly from Anthony’s POV.

“You were so magnetic, it was almost obnoxious / Flush with the currency of cool / I was always turning out my empty pockets / And when it came to you.”

The magnetic pull he feels towards Ian is so strong that it’s almost annoying, how I imagine he was feeling in those ‘between years’, trying to move on but can’t. And Ian always remaining “cool” when Anthony was “turning out his empty pockets”, when he would be vulnerable and open up.

“I didn't come here to make friends / We were born to be suburban legends / When you hold me, it holds me together…”

As you’ll see the later the high school imagery in this song is coded towards them, so with the line “I didn’t come here to make friends” I see that from their school days, they didn’t expect each other to come into their lives. They didn’t know then how that would change the trajectory of their lives. They “were born to be suburban legends”, two boys from suburbia who ‘made it’. And they did hold each other together.

“I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs / Would surprise the whole school / When I ended up back at our class reunion / Walking in with you / You'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries / With the pages ripped out / I am standing in a 1950s gymnasium / And I can still see you now.”

The high school imagery I was talking about. Anthony having this fantasy of them walking in together at their class reunion, surprising everyone that they were still together. “You’d be more than a chapter in my old diaries” Anthony’s journal. And Ian was more than a chapter in his life. “I am standing in a 1950s gymnasium and I can still see you now.” As he said in his interview with Ian, about seeing his childhood friend again in him, that image in his mind in those ‘between years’ as he stood in places that reminded him of Ian.

“I know that you still remember / We were born to be national treasures / When you told me we'd get back together…”

Both POVs. Knowing the other still remembers the promises they made to each other that they didn’t keep, ‘we’ll still be friends’, ‘we’ll hang out’, ‘we’ll collab’, “we’ll get back together…”

“Tick-tock on the clock, I pace down your block / I broke my own heart cause you were too polite to do it / Waves crash on the shore, I dash to the door / You don't knock anymore and my whole life's ruined… / You don't knock anymore and I always knew it / That my life would be ruined.”

Anthony “broke his own heart” by leaving Smosh, by leaving Ian. He knows that. He knows Ian would’ve always been “too polite to do it”, to say anything. But now Ian “doesn’t knock anymore”, doesn’t come around anymore, and Anthony knows it’s his fault, knows he cut Ian off, and now his “whole life’s ruined” just like he “always knew it” would be by letting Ian go.

‘Is It Over Now?’

See the song from Both POV’s.

“Once the flight had flown (Uh-huh) / With the wilt of the rose (Uh-huh) / I slept all alone (Uh-huh) / You still wouldn't go.”

Them expecting to just move on, hoping the passage of time as the flowers die, “wilt of the rose”, would make things easier, would somehow erase things. But now they’re alone and the other still won’t leave their mind.

“Let's fast forward to 300 takeout coffees later / I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters…”

The moment Taylor teased these lyrics my mind was racing! “Fast forward” and they’re still thinking about the other, seeing their face everywhere. I also take it as, and this was how I first looked at the lyrics before I heard them, but them wishing they could “fast forward to 300 takeout coffees later”, till we’re past this, till we’re together again.

“You dream of my mouth before it called you a “lying traitor”.”

These last lyrics from the verse I’m seeing separately and from Ian’s POV. The frustrations he had of Anthony leaving, saying they were still friends, but ghosting him and never giving him a reason why.

“"Come here," I whispered in your ear in your dream as you passed out / Baby, was it over then? / And is it over now?”

“Come here”, come back to me. “Was it over then?”Was it over when you/I left? Was it over before that? “Is it over now?” All these questions reminded me of Anthony’s journal letter to Ian, all these unresolved questions swirling in their minds.

TW: suicidal ideation mention

“And my whispered sighs / Oh, Lord, I think about jumping / Off of very tall somethings / Just to see you come running / And say the one thing I've been wanting, but no.”

Them picturing doing some drastic to make the other come back and say the “one thing they’ve been wanting” to them to all this time. “But no”, that can’t happen. That won’t happen. I also think this verse touches on what they’ve been open about, which is their mental health in the ‘between years’. Especially Anthony.

“Let's fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later (Oh) / If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her (Oh, no).”

We know Anthony’s got a thing for blue eyes. Do you think he was missing that blue in his life in the ‘between years’ and that playing a part in his dating choices?

“Flashing lights, oh, Lord (Oh) / Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later (Oh) / (Flashing lights) I was hoping you'd be there / And say the one thing (Oh, Lord) / I've been wanting (Oh, Lord) /But no.”

The wanting again. “Let’s fast forward”. “I was hoping you’d be there”. Come back, “say the one thing I’ve been wanting”. “But no.” That won’t happen.

And that’s the vault tracks! Hope you guys enjoyed my analysis, the only other track I didn’t cover on this as it wasn’t particularly canon coded in my eyes is ‘“Slut!”’, still a great song though and if the shipping side of things takes your fancy then have fun with it! Thanks again for reading, hope to see you guys again in future analysis 😊

[journalist-jared]

Day 2

I did so much laundry!

I folded and put away my dried laundry that was hanging up, I washed and hung up a load, striped my bed cloths and washed them and re-made my bed.

Laundry is the hardest chore for me. I can usually get most chores done with minimal struggle, laundry is different because you get one part of it done and then completely stop to wait for the machine to finish its cycle or dry. For me getting things done is all about momentum. If I can drag myself out of bed and start my day with small victories like showering and having a good breakfast I can usually chain that into more chores and getting more things done.

Today I managed to do all of that and feel good the whole time! I also managed to go for a walk and wash the dog. However, last night sucked. I stayed up way too late getting Obsidian working and synced with my phone. Once that was done I just kept adding things to my notes. Once I dragged myself away from my PC I couldn't find the peace needed for sleep, I kept worrying about the campaign or remembering cards I wanted to add to my Magic decks but forgot to write it down at the time.

And so to my worries about the campaign. I finished reading the base hunters in Monster of the Week and am not convinced that there is a seamless translation of rule set to campaign setting. Despite my previous blog, I feel that the rule set is too focussed on the supernatural and will not leave room for me to create the kinds of Sci-fi plots from Stargate.

I have an alternate campaign in mind if I'm unable to overcome this hurdle. I've only ever played in Swords and Sorceries settings or official modules in D&D, I have played a handful of games in Warhammer 40K but I've wanted to run or play in some kind of modern magic setting in D&D for a while. After watching Dimension 20's Unsleeping City I had the kernel of an idea for a similar game set in my home town of Melbourne Australia. The cornerstone of the Unsleeping City is the phrase If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere and I thought about a similar phrase that heard on the radio almost constantly as a child , Melbourne is the world's most livable city. And it hit me, livable means that Necromantic magic is quit easy in Melbourne and what would happen if Melbourne was suddenly no longer the Worlds most livable city as I remember a time when Melbourne suddenly lost that title. Now that I've grown up I don't know if that was a statistical based appraisal of life in Melbourne or some competition run by a newspaper.

The idea for Unsleeping City: Melbourne (better name pending) would be Necromancy and undead monsters like vampires are easy and common in this Unsleeping City. Melbourne's equivalent of The Gramercy Occult Society would be tasked primarily with ensorcelling the recently deceased so that their remains could not be raised by necromancers. The Taboo of defiling human corpses would still remain, most necromancers that animate dead would therefore use non-human remains to create servants and tools. Other forms of Necromancy like those in the Locked Tomb series, various ways of manipulating Death Energy are enhanced or easier to achieve in Melbourne. Melbourne's Gramercy Occult Society would also police the Unsleeping City to keep despotic or tyrannical Necromancers from harming others. And the campaign would be about what would happen to the various enclaves if Melbouren where to no longer be the Worlds most Livable city or about trying to prevent a plot from unseating Melbourne as the World's most Livable city.

So, to Monster of the Week. I have this safety net in case things won't work as perfectly as I'd like them to. But this is one of the things that I am trying to overcome, I've learnt that I tend to abandon projects and hobbies if I'm not perfect at them. I'll even avoid starting on new things for the fear of potential failure. I realised today that I'm avoiding playing in a setting because I'm afraid that it will not be perfect and that I don't have the capacity to deliver the story that I want in this setting. And then I thought what if I'm also not able to deliver with Unsleeping City: Melbourne?

But instead of making me more afraid of the prospect of running the game, this thought was liberating. Not because I'm okay with failing, I'm still terrified of that, but because I have no capacity to avoid failing. I have no way of knowing if this is going to work because I don't know what my players want or what they're going to ask or how they will respond to the setting and rule set. And if it's not possible to not fail, then I should just play in the setting that I want to and do my best to deliver a fun time for my friends.

And who knows, I could always just play in Unsleeping City: Melbourne later.

[charlie-minion]

Could the same SPN finale make a little more sense with some additions/changes?

I’ve had the idea for this post stuck in my head for days now, but with every new conspiracy theory and every new eventuality in the fandom, it became difficult to cool down enough to write something less ship-related and more narrative-focused.

What Supernatural and non-SPN fans have to understand is that a lot of us have expressed disappointment and frustration after 15x20, not because of Destiel (that’s just one part of the whole problem), but because the finale doesn’t make sense. Everything was leading up to something beautifully crafted until the end of 15x19. Beyond that, it’s hard to understand what happened. The story rendered all the character growth irrelevant, invalidated the themes of free will and “family don’t end in blood”, regressed to the original brother codependency they spent 15 years trying to overcome, made a queer non-binary character in a male vessel and a deaf female character basically disposable, and kept the show’s reputation of queerbaiting and misogyny until its very last breath.

That’s not going out with a bang! At least not a positive one. We all were ready to mourn Supernatural, but we wanted to feel proud of its legacy, and somehow TPTB managed to tarnish that legacy in less than 45 minutes. What a way to ruin the other more than 13,600 minutes of story!

It doesn’t matter who is to blame (The CW, Robert Singer, Andrew Dabb). It doesn’t matter why it happened (homophobia, censorship, marketing for Walker, bad writing). What matters is that at the end of the day, the finale that aired is what we got and that’s going to hurt for a long time. It hurts even more when we realize that the same finale could have easily made more sense, even without being perfect.

That’s what I want to do in this post. I want to show you how things would have been less jarring (for the fandom), while still keeping the goal to please the general audience.

Before I begin rewriting 15x20, I have to mention that I talked to my conservative boomer sister about the finale. She hasn’t watched the second half of season 15 yet (she’s waiting for Netflix to have it), but she’s been watching the show for a long time (she introduced me to it 8 years ago). She’s the perfect example of a viewer from the general audience. Loves the show but doesn’t give a second thought to it and definitely isn’t paying attention to character development or themes. Doesn’t engage with fandom, actors, or any of the show’s social media. Pure GA! When I told her the series finale had aired, she asked me about it and I refused to give her spoilers. Because of that, she told me the ending SHE wanted. She said she would be happy with either of two possibilities: the boys retiring and finally living a normal life OR they going to heaven and finding peace at last. She saw Sam and Dean as a unit, which means: both retiring or both going to heaven. AND she saw Cas as part of that, too. She wasn’t so sure about Jack. And for her, we could use the “Eileen who?” and it wouldn’t be a joke. She didn’t remember her.

NOW IT’S TIME TO WRITE A NEW VERSION OF 15X20 (KEEPING 15X18 AND 15X19 EXACTLY THE SAME AS THEY AIRED). This will be a very long post:

The opening remains almost the same. No “Carry on my wayward son” to induce feels. Too soon and too predictable! (Reasoning: Everyone was expecting it to play right there, so it would bring more tears at the end)

In the opening, after the scene where Jack says “People won’t need to pray to me or sacrifice to me”, we also see the scene from 15x19 where he says “I won’t be hands on”. Then we see the rest of the opening as it was. (Reasoning: People needed to be reminded that Jack would NOT intervene and that’s why later on, he would NOT save Dean).

We get the same montage, but when Sam takes a break from his morning run, we see him reading a message on his phone. A simple: “Hey Sam, what’s new?” from Eileen. Sam smiles fondly and begins to type a response we don’t get to see. The next scene continues the same, Sam making breakfast. (Reasoning: A text was a very simple way to show that Eileen was alive and still in communication with Sam).

The montage slowly ends as Sam enters the library (not after he sits down). He seems to be talking on the phone but we only hear an “I’ll tell him. Bye”. As he walks towards the table, he tells Dean: “Charlie says hi. Mentioned something about Stevie’s perfect scrambled eggs we have to try.” Dean’s answer is “Awesome!” (Reasoning: Just ONE line was needed to unbury Charlie and her girlfriend. ONE LINE).

Sam sits down, opens his laptop and everything continues the same. The title card shows for the last time.

YOU SEE? In the first 4 minutes they could have acknowledged that THREE WOMEN were alive and safe: Eileen, Charlie and Stevie. It wasn’t hard! Don’t blame bad writing on Covid! Now let’s continue.

Sam and Dean arrive at the Pie Fest just the same. Dean goes to get some “damn pie” and Sam takes out his phone. He dials and when someone picks up, he says “Hey, Jody, how are ya?” We don’t hear the rest of the conversation. The scene moves to Dean coming with his 6 portions of pie. Dean sits down and Sam tells him, “Talked to Jody. The other hunters haven’t had much work lately.” “That’s good, isn’t it?”, Dean says. All we get from Sam is “Yeah.” So, Dean looks at him and asks “what’s wrong?” like it happened in the episode. (Reasoning: Again, a couple of lines to make sure the people that were killed in 15x18 are safe and remembered by the boys in 15x20. Why is this important? Because they’re family!)

The conversation about Sam’s sad face happens the same. Sam is the one that mentions Cas and Jack. (Reasoning: Because this episode was so Sam-centered, it’s obvious he was the protagonist in the finale. If we see him communicating with Eileen, Charlie, and Jody, then it’s NORMAL, even expected of him to be the one to bring up Cas and Jack). Without these additions, it’s harder for people to understand that most of the finale was NOT from Dean’s POV but from Sam’s.

Dean’s “if we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing” stays the same. (Reasoning: I believe it’s necessary that the show sticks to the importance of “letting go” and “what is dead should stay dead” for the first time ever because the message is “even when you lose someone you love, you can still find some form of happiness and keep living, for you and for them, because that’s what they would have wanted”. Bringing someone back means “I can’t live without you”, and that’s just more codependency. It’s how the demon deals began in the Winchester family –Mary being the first one to do it. This would explain why Dean didn’t ask Jack to bring Cas back, as he asked Chuck. He understood Jack was NOT going to interfere anymore and accepted it. Besides, when Cas saved Dean from hell, Dean thought he didn’t deserve to be saved. This time that Cas saved him, Dean finally feels worthy enough to accept that YES, HE DESERVED TO BE SAVED ALL ALONG, just as much as he deserved to be loved by that angel of the Lord. In this scene, Dean also says that the pain is not gonna go away, which means that from HIS PERPECTIVE, it still hurts that Cas is not there. The problem is that the finale is not showing his POV but Sam’s.  

Sam pies Dean on the face just the same. (Reasoning: That part was just to avoid ending the scene on a sad note).

Everything related to the case happens exactly the same. (Reasoning: At this point, people don’t really care about the MoTW, they care about Sam and Dean).

NOTE 1: The case is important to show that even when the Winchesters are finally free of Chuck’s influence, they CHOOSE to keep hunting. It isn’t something they do out of revenge or because it is their destiny anymore. Maybe they were forced into the life at first, but they’ve learned to find joy in saving people. Being hunters is who they are. However, the fact that a job application was shown on Dean’s desk is also important because it means he was willing to explore what else was there for him besides hunting. Maybe he could find a balance? Maybe he was thinking it was time to quit? We will never know! The thing is that Sam only finds out about it when he goes into Dean’s room after his brother is dead, so maybe that’s when it hits him that Dean wanted to explore his options, and Sam starts to think it’s time for him to do the same.  

NOTE 2: I believe the masks the vampires are wearing is something we can blame on covid. If they had their faces covered, it was easier to use people from the SPN crew for some scenes, instead of using more actors unnecessarily.

NOTE 3: When Sam and Dean arrive at the barn, we get 3 visuals to remember Cas in the same scene (those are for the fandom, not for the general audience): a) the barn, obviously; b) the bag that resembles Cas’ trenchcoat so much that many people thought that’s what it was; and c) two feathers hanging on Dean’s right when he opens the trunk.

The scene with the throwing star happens the same. (Reasoning: The episode is still told from Sam’s point of view, so it makes sense that he fondly sees his brother as a man child).

Jenny the vampire? Uhhh… I mean, it’s not the best piece of writing I’ve ever seen, but it’s not the worst, so okay. That stays the same. (Reasoning: There is none, but she’s not what really ruined the finale, so whatever!)

Dean still dies impaled on a rebar. (Reasoning: OK. HERE ME OUT!!! I hate as much as everyone else that Dean is killed. I think it’s lazy writing, but that’s what we got and I can’t change that in this re-write, so if killing Dean is what we have to work around, then, memes aside, death by rebar is better and here’s why. There’s no one to blame for Dean’s death: no Chuck (the boys were willingly hunting even after Chuck was defeated), no vampires (they were all killed and were no real threat, so it was impossible for Sam to begin a quest for revenge against all vampires. What was Sam going to blame? A rebar? Can you kill it? Hunt it? NO. It was an ordinary death, a stupid accident. Just like any person can die at any moment by slipping on a banana peel. Is it a good death? No, but it’s good to know he doesn’t die trying to save Sam or Cas, because Dean Winchester is NOT willing to give up his life in exchange for anyone else’s anymore.

Sam takes out his phone and says he’ll call for help, but his phone is more visible to the audience. He dials and it’s almost to his ear when Dean stops him and Sam hesitantly hangs up. (Reasoning: People have complained that Sam didn’t call an ambulance, but actually he tried to. It’s just that people missed that part, maybe?)

After Sam puts his phone back in his pocket and says “OK” to Dean, he adds, “I’ll pray to Jack”. Dean’s immediate answer is: “No hands on, remember?” “But Dean”, Sam says, and Dean interrupts him with “OK listen to me” and tells Sam what to do with the kids they rescued. (Reasoning: Jack is God now and how come Sam didn’t remember? The viewers remembered, so it was necessary to include a line that ruled the option out and that showed Dean didn’t want Jack to intervene. The rest was fine).

The lines “You knew it was always gonna end like this for me. It was supposed to end like this, right?” disappear completely from Dean’s monologue. (Reasoning: This is the most problematic part of Dean’s dying speech. He fought God and earned free will, he is no longer controlled by fate or destiny. Accepting that he is supposed to die on a hunt regresses his character development and denies his desire to keep living. This was a total mistake and should be removed).

Instead, if going to heaven is the ending TPTB wanted to give Dean, at least he should say something more empowering. Sam tells him that both of them are going to take the kids somewhere safe. Dean answers and the scene follows like this: “No. Sammy, we made our choice, didn’t we?”, he smiles with difficulty. “We were free to write our own story and we did. We decided to keep saving people, hunting things. Because it’s what we love despite the risks.” (Reasoning: If Dean’s going to die it doesn’t have to feel like it was always meant to be that way. He should die knowing that he exerted his free will until his last breath).

The rest of the dialogue between Sam and Dean happens almost the same. Except that instead of Dean saying “‘cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It’s always been you and me”, he says “’cause when it all came down to it, we’ve always had each other’s backs. Always.” And instead of Sam saying “Don’t leave me”, he says “I still can try to save you.” (Reasoning: It sounds way less codependent without diminishing the importance of their love and support for each other).

Besides, let’s change Dean’s “I’m not leaving you” for “You don’t have to be alone. You’ve still got family.” The rest stays the same word by word. (Reasoning: Dean reminds Sam that “family don’t end in blood” and there are still lots of people out there who love Sam and will be with him).

“I love you so much, my baby brother” stays exactly the same. (Reasoning: Dean always had trouble to express the big L word. I always believed and said many times that before Dean could say “I love you” to Cas or any other character, he had to say it to Sam. So, this is important as part of Dean speaking his truth).

The last part when Dean insists Sam tell him that it’s okay stays the same. (Reasoning: It’s the final moment when the codependency cycle breaks. No more running in circles).

The forehead touch between them stays the same. (Reasoning: I think I would do something similar if my sister were dying. I know there are w*ncest shippers out there, but it shouldn’t matter because the moment feels appropriate for that kind of goodbye). 

See? There are changes but not too many. That’s why I’ve been saying that it was easier to get it right, yet they still managed to screw it up.

The second montage stays the same. (Reasoning: Life goes on, but of course Sam has to mourn).

The call about a case in Austin remains the same. (Reasoning: It’s the only part of the episode where someone from the found family is mentioned, so I think that Donna’s name is perfect in that moment. However, without the other additions I’ve made in this re-write, that off-hand mention feels too little. Its purpose was to tell the viewers that if Donna was alive, so were the others, but the way the episode was executed gave us an isolated Sam, incapable of having friends and a family without Dean).  

After 30 minutes of Sam’s POV, let’s finally see the last bit of Dean’s POV that we’ll ever get.

Dean arrives in Heaven and Bobby receives him. All their conversation stays almost the same, except that after mentioning Rufus and before saying “and your mom and dad…”, Bobby adds an “Ellen and Jo let me borrow their place”. (Reasoning: If you’re gonna put the man outside the Harvelle’s place, at least mention them for Jack’s sake!).

Besides, after Bobby tells Dean that Sam will be along and that time in heaven is different, Dean gives a small smile and says, “Well, there’s no rush. I want him to have a long, happy life.” Bobby answers with: “I would expect nothing less from you, boy” and tells him he got everything he could ever want, etc., just like it happened in the episode, and finishes by asking “What are you gonna do now, Dean?” (Reasoning: It’s important we know for sure that Dean is NOT codependent anymore and that he doesn’t expect to have a miserable afterlife just because his brother is not there yet).

Instead of saying “I think I’ll go for a drive” Dean says, “I think I know what I want” and walks towards baby. Bobby still tells him to have fun. (Reasoning: “Know what I want” is ambiguous enough to help us introduce the last piece of the puzzle, the one thing Dean’s wanted for many seasons and has never been able to express).

 The biggest change is coming:

Dean gets on the Impala and has a moment of silence while he contemplates the wheel. He begins to pray: “Hey, Cas, you got your ears on? I hear you’ve been busy working on this updated Heaven with Jack. You were right about him, Cas. You had faith in him and he saved us all. You could always see the best in everyone, even when they couldn’t see it themselves. Even when I couldn’t see it myself. There’s so much I want to tell you. Maybe you can visit sometime. I hope prayer’s still a thing up here.” (Reasoning: Dean’s side of the confession was unaddressed and that was terrible writing. If there was no way to get him to speak his truth textually, at least take him as close to it as possible).

We listen to a flutter of wings and a “Hello, Dean” from the back seat. We don’t see Cas, but the camera shows us Dean’s cocky smile and he says “Took you long enough.” He turns around slowly. End of scene. (Reasoning: The flutter of wings confirms that angels have their wings back and ties that loose end. The final “hello, Dean” was highly anticipated and it made sense. If Misha couldn’t be there to film, for whatever reason, or if the problem was the kind of conversation Dean and Cas would have, then don’t show it, but leave the door open. Let us know that the two characters were reunited and will talk, but whatever Dean has to say is so private that it’s not for us to hear, only for Cas.  

We finally hear “Carry on my wayward son” and get a montage that begins with Sam playing with his kid. Then we see Dean driving, super happy, and Sam living his life to the fullest. We still get Sam’s Blurry Wife, BUT… we see pictures of Eileen in the living room (not just of John, Mary, Sam, and Dean). We also see photos of Jody, Donna, Charlie, and AU!Bobby. (Reasoning: FAMILY DON’T END IN BLOOD).

The scene where Sam is wearing the party wig and looks miserable inside the Impala is cut and nobody talks about it ever again because it never existed. We get a scene of Sam teaching his son how to fix the car instead. (Reasoning: First of all, don’t give Sam a life where years later he’s still in pain. Second of all, the fucking wig was a crime).

Sam’s dying scene stays the same. The only thing is that his son signs a couple of phrases to him before actually speaking. (Reasoning: More confirmation that Dean Jr. is Eileen’s son).

We hear the final “Evanescence-like Carry on my wayward son”. Again we see the photos and there’s family other than the Winchesters there. (Reasoning: Obvious at this point).

The rest is exactly the same. The show began with two brothers and it’s okay if the last scene is with the two brothers reunited in Heaven. At this point, the other parts of the story are acceptable enough for us to feel happy that they get to see each other again after years of a happy (after)life.

Now look me in the eye and tell me this was too hard to execute. I still think that bad writing is a thing we can’t deny here, adding to the possible meddling of the Network. Maybe Dabb wanted us to hate the finale because he couldn’t get away with what he truly wanted. If that was his intention, then kudos to him. He and The CW really gave us a finale that only 30% of the fandom liked.

I hope you guys have enjoyed this and it helps to give you some peace of mind. In my heart, this was the finale we got. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t drop the ball either.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

just because you’re afraid it doesn’t mean you’re broken.

Titans 3.05

once more into the cold dark void of the internet with my stream-of-consciousness take on a superhero tv show...

spoilers ahead.

1. i cannot believe that among the first things i get to hear in this episode with my own two ears is the line 'eluded our overdudes'. why must you give me such pain along with so much joy, show?

1.5. scarecrow stringing jason along on this path to red-hood-dom is not something i would’ve ever expected, but does kind of make sense. 

1.55. i don’t know all the details of the original resurrection arc in the comics but i like that jason, weirdly, has a greater role to play in his own demise and rebirth? i think it makes it easier to draw a line between his past trauma, the demonstrably shitty and terrifying responsibility of being robin, the ways bruce and the titans wronged him, his responses to that, the reasons he turns to scarecrow, and his final evolution to red hood. it makes for a smoother character arc rather than a one that was interrupted for two decades before somebody went oh hey let’s resurrect that kid that the audience once voted to kill and make him an anti-hero!

1.75. what’s crane giving him? anti fear toxin? anyway, crane is a fucking creep and i’m not sure i want to see a whole lot of him on my screen.

2. oh, um, heads up: there’s a long sequence of unsteady cam + flickering lights right after the title card upto the 3:16 mark. it’s a bit headache-inducing so if you want to skip, you can go ahead and do that. 

2.45. that’s... weird... why would he dream about... donna...

ok, who am i kidding. i’m going to jump right into my theory about Why Titans Makes Sense Actually because the show itself is apparently not interested in explaining itself:

a) it makes no sense for jason to be conjuring up donna--who famously did not care much for him!--in his dreams. (he wasn’t even there when she died.) or for her to be telling him don’t go or there’s still time.

b) this leads me to think that that’s actually donna, in some sort of limbo between life and death, the kind of place where jericho used to be

c) rachel has demonstrated that she has the power to link the minds of the titans across great distances--she called jason and hank/dawn for help in 2.01, she linked up everybody later in the season, projected dick’s hallucination of his father into their brains without even realising she was doing it, and in the finale, she managed to get dick into conner’s brain. she’s in themyscira now. is this how she gets donna back to life? but reaching out to her in that non-space between life and death?

d) the next obvious question is: why isn’t donna appearing in the dreams of the other titans? she probably is, but they have better reason to be dreaming about her since they were actually close to her, unlike jason.

e) but why would she warn jason in particular? does she foresee jason entering the afterlife--however briefly? does she have an idea of what jason plans to do and what he will become?

f) anyway, more trippy mindscapes and weird psychic powers, yay!

2.5. my heart clenched when bruce comforted jason post-nightmare: clearly i’ve been reading way too much batfam fic. this is a side of bruce we haven’t really been told to expect by all the characters on the show calling him a ‘psychopath’ (*cough*unreliablenarrators*cough*) and him getting jason to speak to a professional speaks volumes about the kind of self-reflection he’s done post dick’s departure, and maybe some of the regrets he has with regards to how he dealt with dick’s traumas.

i mean, just look at him when jason dismisses his concerns! BRUCE IS TRYING JASON

anyway, i have a whole lot more i want to say about this, but i’ll save it for later. 

also: LESLIE THOMPKINS!!!!

3. i really like molly--and i love that she’s a friend from before jason got taken in by bruce, the implication that they meet up regularly and that she’s a grounding influence on him (tho clearly not grounding enough to not go along with his dumbass idea about confronting a child trafficker alone). 

3.5. aw, jason. robin was his armour against everything in the world that would throw him down and chew him to bits, but san francisco proved that even robin wasn’t enough to protect him. it’s really interesting how ‘disillusionment with the idea of robin’ is so integral to the traumas of both dick and jason but in such different ways. 

4. LESLIE!!!!!!! i even forgive her office being so goddamn blue because leslie! 

4.5. it makes so much sense for titans!verse leslie to be a therapist, because this show is so inward looking anyway, and therapist sessions are a useful tool to showcase this character work in a story. besides, at least in fanfic, leslie often seems to double up as a counsellor anyway. 

4.6. oh man. i’m not terribly convinced by walters’ red hood (tho i think that may be the point--argh. i’ll come back to this thought later. have to stop getting distracted!) but he plays the asshole kid that’s trying not to let any real emotion seep through really well.

“you’d like me to punch you, wouldn’t you”

5. not sure what to think of batman’s little trophy case other than the show winking unsubtly at us and going look look - catwoman! the riddler! two face! you excited yet?! it’s like the scene from the end of amazing spiderman 2 when they were trying to drum up excitement for a sinister six spinoff by having harry osborne walk by a bunch of display cases with stuff from iconic villains in them.

... but then again, bruce does like to display a lot of shit in his batcave, including his dead robin’s bloodstained costume, so.

5.5. bruce is so soft with jason it’s killing me. beyond just trying to learn from his mistakes with dick, it speaks to his own genuine desire to balance his dedication to gotham with doing the best by his sons, although he’s often not successful with that. 

i love that titans is really playing the long game with bruce wayne, with each season and character-perspective sliding in fresh pieces of a bigger puzzle. titans’ bruce has always been a phantom of other peoples’ making, but now we’re getting the idea that he’s a whole lot more complicated than other people make it seem.

5.75. it really recontextualises some of his actions from previous seasons: the fact that he locked dick out of his security systems in 1.06 is likely his way of respecting dick’s independence and his desire not to be associated with batman/gotham anymore. jason knowing about bruce’s tracker while dick doesn’t is probably bruce trying to be more honest and upfront with his charges. bruce sending jason packing off to sanfran to spend time with the titans is probably not him passing on a big responsibility to dick (as i first uncharitably thought) but him trying to get jason out of the toxic influence of gotham for a while and a sign of his trust in dick as a leader and a mentor,

5.8. i mean, bruce is a prick, but he’s also human.

6. i think leslie is doing some good work with jason here, though she may have overstepped the line with her line about robin as a construct being projected by a man with BPD. her speculations about bruce’s diagnosis have no place in her session with jason, and if bruce confides in her, an egregious violation of patient-therapist confidentiality. 

(about the diagnosis itself... i don’t know. i can’t really confirm or refute this without a whole lot more information, and i’m not sure if the writer of this episode means BPD in the same way an actual professional might.)

6.5. i think a huge thing that gets missed out in a lot of recent comics as well as movies/shows is that bruce didn’t create the robin persona out of whole cloth. dick did. he’s the starting point of that legacy and to call it entirely bruce’s creation is blatant erasure of that. in fact, i’m surprised that dick doesn’t feature more in the conversations they’re having about the pressures of being robin. after all, the guy had been robin--bruce’s partner--for such a long time before jason. 

6.8. (and here’s the primal part of me that resonates the deepest with dick grayson--the Eldest Daughter part--that’s sort of resentful: that jason gets the therapy and softness and the learning from mistakes when it took years and years for bruce to reach out in any meaningful way to dick.)

7. oooh that was a great scene!

it’s fun to do these stream-of-consciousness live reactions, because the moment you step down from your soapbox, the episode goes right into tackling what you were just complaining about. bruce means well, he’s learning, but he goes about exactly the wrong way to help jason: taking away robin now can’t be read by jason as anything but a devastating judgment call from bruce. and iain glen really sells the moment that bruce realises this--too late--and his helplessness in trying to get jason to see that it isn’t jason’s fault that he’s trying to do this. he loves jason enough that jason is enough. 

7.5. aaaah so jason brings up the elephant in the room at last. dick got everything makes sense from his perspective, where getting to put on a costume and fight crime means approval, means being something stronger and better than you are. dick got to be robin, then nightwing, and a leader of a whole team of other costume-clad heroes. 

8. ... how did jason just walk into arkham????? this is ridiculous.

8.3. i mean, clearly jason’s not thinking straight, but betraying batman like this puts his possibilities of being robin again even further away. 

8.5. watching that chemistry experiment montage was strangely funny. this guy is looking for an antidote to fear? well, constantly mixing up and inhaling gases concocted by a mad-scientist supervillain is something only the very fearless--reckless to the point of foolishness!--would do. what’s to say crane’s not given you a formula for a drug that will keep you tethered to his every will and whim? hmmmm?

8.7. so he sought out the joker to... test the formula??? 

9. wow the “loud and clear... boss” hits different after a whole episode of them referring to each other as father and son.

9.3. waitwaitwait HOLD UP. wait a DANG MINUTE. you’re telling me that scarecrow had enough resources that he could not only have folks on the outside steal jason away and dunk him in a lazarus pit (i TOLD you that this show would bring up and dismiss ra’s al ghul in a ten second aside! I TOLD YOU) but also have his own little chemistry lab in the basement, AND have enough resources for jason to build his red hood persona???????? all of this in barely twenty four hours?

well there goes my ‘jason orchestrated his death’ theory. it was nice while it lasted. *cups hands to the sky* fly away, my baby.

9.6. a part of me is gleeful at the rushed nature of such an iconic transformation though, especially when compared to all the character work that went before it. we’re so used to getting the opposite that it’s fucking delightful to have a show that’s more interested in exploring its characters’ minds rather than battle scenes or recreating transformations from the comics. that’s taken such bold and exciting steps to fully convey all the nuances of its most recognisable character, bruce wayne, from casting an older actor to play him to unflinchingly showing just how damaging the vigilante lifestyle has been to him and the people he loves. BRILLIANT

*sporfle*

10. again, heads up: a whole lot of flashing lights between 40:28 and 42:00. 

10.3. i guess it’s the super-compressed timeline that’s really throwing me off. where did he have the time to get/develop the mind control thing from? or is it something that he got from the cabal of villains that he intimidated at the beginning of 3.02? very messy.

10.5. i love molly, i hope she shows up again this season.

11. aaaand that’s it! that was a solid episode as flashback episodes go, but now i can’t wait to return to the present.

[zee-writes-and-draws]

Truly Important

Summary: A look at some of the more important birthdays that Saw Paing has had, and the one he celebrated right after the tournament.

A/n: It's still July 8th, so I'm on time w/this. Nonetheless, I slept five hours so I apologize for lack of proofreading.

------

The first birthday that Saw Paing truly considers important is his fifth one, the day he gets to start Lethwei training for the very first time. He comes home covered in scratches and bruises and a trickle of blood running down his forehead. His father fusses a little and his ma doesn’t let him up until she bandages every little cut and bruise but nothing can spoil his good mood as Ne Win Paing puts him in a headlock and their little sister congratulates him on the start of his training.

------

Most birthdays to Saw Paing aren’t majorly important beyond the fact that even as a fighter Pa Paing did his best to see every single child on their birthday every year. But some are important because there’s new people in his life, people who aren't’ there, certain benchmarks and events that are important in and of themselves, but are easier to tie to years and dates and celebrations.

Saw Paing’s sixteenth birthday is remembered fondly only because it is one week before he meets his eternal rival for the very first time, a boy named Gaolang Wongsawat.

------

Seventeen. Nothing particularly important. Current youngest brother starts his training that year.

Eighteen. Important solely by the freedom it grants in travelling. Almost all countries recognize eighteen as an age of majority, an age where you can do a lot of things that would be illegal otherwise like go somewhere without an adult’s supervision or rent a car so you have your own transport. Going to places outside of Myanmar and Thailand is the most interesting he’s done in his entire life.

Nineteen. He finally gets a job outside the village. The weapons corporation that hired him is run by an old man and a teenage girl with a vicious streak longer than the destruction radius of the missiles she’s designed. Still, they hired him to safety test things and work to rescue people in afflicted areas, not attack them. It’s Togo Tomari’s brilliant ruthlessness that causes him to end up in the same place as Muteba for a month. Another friendship struck up with someone he’s fought against. A birthday gift of an absolutely gorgeous button-up with twelve patterns and wild color is dropped off at his door that year. Even though the gifter will likely never see it, Saw Paing wears the shirt with pride as often as he can for the next few years.

Twenty. Barely important but it was Gaolang’s eighteenth birthday that year and the time the title ‘God of War’ starts creeping into people’s thoughts about him. Saw Paing cheers his rival on whenever possible.

Twenty-one. Nothing. Little sister asks out crush, dates her for seven months and change before they have to break up because the crush’s family is moving. He and Muteba have each others numbers saved and text between missions.

Twenty-two. He and Ne Win Paing get to fight outside of legal matches for the first time. It’s exhilarating. Their father hugs them both afterwards and tells them how proud he is.

Twenty-three. The first birthday in their family celebrated after Pa Paing passes. It’s somber. Saw Paing would rather have skipped the day entirely if not for how his youngest siblings all seemed determined to follow traditions for at least the illusion of normalcy  and he’s not about to ruin their coping process just because he’s sad. With Ne Win Paing travelling nearly full-time and recovering when he’s home, Saw Paing is the de facto leader of the family and he’s not going to let them down so easily.

That night there’s a card delivered to him by a hassled-looking mail carrier. It’s from Gaolang.

I heard about your father’s death, Saw Paing. My deepest condolences to both you and your family. Take care of yourself. Do what you must to feel more stable.

To anyone else the writing would be cold and impersonal. Saw Paing re-reads it over and over until a drop splashes onto it and the crinkling of paper registers and then he hurriedly folds it and drops it onto the desk in his room so it doesn’t get destroyed.

If in two weeks when they next see each other, Gaolang relents and truly fights Saw Paing for twenty minutes before declaring a defeat form boredom, neither of them acknowledge the change in routine anymore than they acknowledge that Saw Paing’s yelling is more like loud talking and that Gaolang had made an extra plate of his favorite fish seemingly just in case.

------

Twenty-four. Saw Paing meets Sayaka for the very first time that year, a bright and sunshine-sweet teenager who screams out his intro and doesn’t seem to mind that he’s super-loud or that his opponent throws him into the commentators box and nearly crushes her by accident.

When he had apologized she made a joke about it. He made one back. A friendship stronger than any other he’d made was started that day. Sayaka reminds him of his little sisters, friendly and upbeat and ready to take on the world if she has to and come out with a smile, sharp wit and keen mind concealed under a bubbly layer that requires no lying to maintain.

That year his birthday includes a surprise delivery of a completely new set of cookware with a small note attached.

Happy birthday, Saw! Sorry I couldn’t make it, dad scheduled fifty matches for this week alone so I’m not even sleeping, but I hope you like it! See you in May (PS I’m secretly rooting for you!)

That night Saw Paing makes dinner for everyone with said cookware and an unflappable grin on his face.

------

Twenty-five. Nothing.

Twenty-six. His little sister is now formally competing on a near-national level. His brothers, no longer so small but always little in his eyes, work hard to bring in food and water and trade with the local villages and Saw Paing never stops feeling proud of them.

Twenty-seven. More and more fights in the arena. He leaves Tomari’s contracts behind but keeps in touch with Muteba. A chance metal concert allows him to meet Yoshiko, who in turn introduces him to Sawada. Saw Paing mails him several CDs of traditional Burmese music for the other man’s birthday. Gets a collection of ballet remixes in exchange. Listens to the collection every night for weeks and weeks on end until he can whistle half the songs without thinking. Smiles at how many small reminders he has now of the people he cares about.

------

Twenty-eight. The coldest and harshest one yet. Ne Win Paing is not there that year. Everyone’s energy is lower than usual. Saw Paing spends the day mostly taking care of the youngest siblings and visiting the graves of those he’s lost. He can feel the wrongness of this land on his skin, it’s Yoroizuka’s home and that’s better than the alternatives but it is not his home or their home or the home that his family deserved and had grown up in and lost because of Ne Win Paing or maybe because Saw Paing should have noticed sooner, should have caught onto the damage his brother had taken.

Sayaka leaves twenty voicemails and thirty texts, all reassurance and compassion and kindness that Saw Paing is beginning to doubt he deserves. Sawada had arranged for several boxes of their favorite sweets from all over the world to be delivered to his house. Muteba messages him a list of names and places if he needs to fight the emotions out or to talk to a professional specializing in fighters and loss of loved ones and tells him to cherish the rest of his family.

Gaolang visits that evening, sleeplessness evident in his posture and eyebags. It’s rarer and rarer for the two of them to see each other now, between the jobs they both hold and duties they’re bound to. Saw Paing’s first priority will always be his family, just as at the end of the day the Thai God of War is not that but the bodyguard of Prince Rama of Thailand. And yet here they are, sitting next to a firepit just outside a house that was not truly meant for Saw Paing’s family, in a country outside of Gaolang’s own.

“Are you alright?” Gaolang asks him. Saw Paing looks up.

I’ll be fine, he wants to say, thinks instead because even things like talking feel like too much right now. He settles for a nod instead, one that feels too slow and tired to really be him but has to be because who else could he be? Gaolang does not look reassured by this. He sits down next to Saw Paing and talks. That quiet voice, normally at least partially twinged with annoyance and exhaustion, now flows with an undertone of gentle energy. It’s not the fire that Saw Paing usually feels running through his veins. Nor is it Ne Win Paing’s quick fury or Pa Paing’s ruthless confidence.

No, it’s the other kind of energy, the kind that Gaolang always emits though it’s hidden under the day-to-day life’s mundaneness. Gaolang tell him about fights, about what guarding Prince Rama has been like for him, some recipe his parents love and he despises because of how annoyingly spicy it is and how Saw Paing would probably like it. And then he talks about staring into a fire.

“Look,” Gaolang motions at it. “It moves so incredibly, alive and unalive at once.” Saw Paing looks into the fire, watches the moving flames flicker and dance in and out of existence. Next to him, Gaolang smiles.

“It reminds me of you sometimes. The difference is fire burns out. I truly hope you never do.” They sit next to each other, watching for a while until something in Saw Paing’s chest undoes itself, letting some feeling back in. Gaolang notices.

“Tell me about Ne Win Paing,” he asks, shoulder brushing against Saw Paing’s own, warmer than the air around by just enough to be noticeable without feeling too off-balance. And so he does, spilling out every little detail he can remember about his brother and all of the memories that were crafted for as long as he can remember. The sky is light when he finishes, still tired but somehow lighter. That something that had unwound a bit earlier is almost completely gone. He’s still saddened by the loss of one of the greatest people in his life, but things look a little better.

Gaolang leaves then, apologetic but unable to stay. Saw Paing nods at him again to say it’s alright and it must come across sufficiently this time, because Gaolang’s smiling softly as he walks to his car and drives back to his too-loud and too-busy life for such a quiet man and yet a life that couldn’t be anyone else’s.

Saw Paing’s younger siblings are slowly waking up, coming out to check up on him and start their day. He hugs them, feeling his spirit coming back to something normal.

------

Twenty-nine. Still a tad colder than before but mostly better.

Thirty. A year with little occurring beyond the increasing amount of kengan matches and the frequency that he gets to see old friends like Sayaka. The tournament that happens later in the year is undoubtedly something unforgettable that he;ll treasure for the rest of his life. So many new friends made, so many bonds forged and strengthened. He makes it a point to keep correspondence with all of them, even the more quiet ones like Karo and Rei. They clearly need the company if they're quite that quiet.

Thirty-one. He wakes up expecting another birthday that’s rather insignificant. His sisters and brothers in college call and Skype and do whatever else they need to say hello first thing in the morning, yelling through the screen loud enough that he can her the dorm’s complaints through the call. The siblings still at home whether from sentimentality or youth wake him minutes before that by running into his room and wishing a happy birthday to him at the top of their lungs. He’s so proud of their lung training being quite so successful.

He checks his phone after all of the younger siblings hang up out of habit. There’s another twelve messages from various members of the assassin clans he’s befriended, a missed call from Cosmo, a notification about a post from Adam, and an alert of the local post office telling him about several packages that are addressed to him.

On the journey to the post office and back he gets six more calls. As he’s balancing reading a short ‘happy birthday!’ texted to him from Cosmo and a rambly congratulation courtesy of Okubo that is interrupted by an incoming call from either Hanafusa or Yoshizawa, a wonderfully familiar voice calls out.

“Saw! Over here!” Sayaka stands by the edge of the road, looking as red carpet-ready as always, except for the small trolley of boxes and bags she’s keeping from rolling away.

“HEY SAYAKAAAA!!!!!” He yells to her as he runs over. She’s hugging him so there’s no reason not to complete their usual greeting by picking her up and spinning in several circles.

“Happy birthday, Saw!” She laughs as he puts her down. “Sorry I didn’t warn you, but there was a lot of last minute stuff and everyone wanted to send something to you and it was ‘one more thing’ this and ‘oh wait here!’ that, and it’s so great to see you again! Here!” the packages he was holding until two seconds ago are now in Sayaka’s hands, traded for a fancy-looking photo album.

“It’s for you. I wish I could stay, but Retsudo’s been flipping out for six hours and he threatened to send a SAR squad again, but I promise i’ll call this evening, kay? See ya soon, Saw Paing!” She runs to the familiar figures of Takyama and Misasa, waving the whole time they drive away until she’s out of his line of sight. Only tnen does Saw Paing turn his attention to the trolley and the photo album.

Getting everything home requires ignoring messages and calls so his plan to find out what these things are that everyone was so determined to send to him has to wait another hour or so but then he finally has the time to check everything out.

There’s two gorgeous shirts that fit perfectly, bright greens and yellows combining with the soft fabric and reminding him of his old shirt but nicer. This, he knows without even needing to check the card, is a gift that only someone like Muteba would have gotten him. A thick book of various recipes from several different regions in Japan, along with an impressively full binder of leaflet instructions for dishes made in the mountains is sent courtesy of Sekibayashi and Haruo.

A sharp-looking knife that seems to be more familiar with intestines sliding across its blade than vegetables is gifted by the Kures he’d met after Hayami’s rebellion, right next to several ‘free assassination’ coupons Reichii and Fusui must have snuck in as a half-joke and and half-true gift.

Most of the things are actually quite small, just fragile and packaged with an insane amount of cushioning, he realizes. It’s nothing particularly fancy, but they’re all things that will remind him of the senders, be it the scalpel that Hanafusa mailed him with instructions on how to DIY surgery or the old shogi set Kaneda gifts along with a book on most famous shogi strategies played throughout history.

Saw Paing moves everything to where it should be once everything but the photo album has been looked through. The cookbooks go to a specific shelf in the kitchen that no one else can reach. The weapons are hidden in a small box under his bed to avoid any incidents. Muteba’s shirts go onto hangers, Sawada’s fancy candies are set on a plate for eating while looking at this final gift, and then the album is opened.

The first photo makes him smile, a perfect snapshot from one of his earliest fights in the Kengan matches, capturing the moment they had both gone from enemies to friends mid-blow. A date, presumably of when the photo was taken, is written on the border in Sayaka’s neat writing. The second one is of Ne Win Paing from seven years ago. This time, the date is in heavier, blockier writing, not unlike Hollis’s. Saw Paing flips through the album a little more, taking it in. there’s plenty of photos of his various friends, fellow fighters, and even some family from the tournament and before it, but there’s also old photos of his brother and father, and even one of his mother back when she had fought in occasional matches, along with candids of some of the more stoic people. They must have been collected over several months, and not just by Sayaka.

Saw Paing already knows what will happen this evening. Gaolang will come over with some kind of small yet so deeply personal way of also saying happy birthday. Sayaka will call again, most likely throwing a small party in the Katahara house and inviting everyone she can. Rei might stop by and even if he doesn’t, he’ll Skype before the sun sets because he’s a punctual person by both nature and training.

But that’s still hours away, and in the meantime, Saw Paing decides to keep looking at the beautiful snapshots of the past, enjoying the present to it’s fullest.

------

END.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 30-April 5

Out of self-isolation, woop woop! Also a first for me, there’s a podifc on the recap for the first time!

Complete

💙 [Podfic] If They Haven't Learned Your Name by quietnight/ @quietnighty​ (Post-WS | Podfic lenght: >10h | Not Rated): aka Steve and Bucky's Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

in the heat of the moment by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (ABO, Pre-TFA | 9K | Explicit): In which Steve presents very late as an omega. Bucky isn't supposed to go see him, but when has he ever done what he was supposed to do where Steve is concerned? (Part 1 of would smell as sweet)

💙 good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.or: bucky has not let steve rogers fuck him since his sophomore year (Part 1 of himbo-verse)

cheffing and sabotage by mcwho (Modern AU | 3K | Explicit): "So,” Steve says conversationally. “That’s a yes on the olive oil. For lube purposes.” Part 2 of himbo-verse

Brooklyn by togina/ @toli-a​ (Post-WS | 8,7K | Teen): "Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?" Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Poise and Rationality (Have Nothing to Do with Steve Rogers) by romanticalgirl (Canon-verse | 1K | Teen): Steve does something stupid.

💙 bullet in a gun (but in the end, my time will come) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-Endgame, Canon-divergent | 25K | Explicit): Post-Thanos, Bucky Barnes has happily settled into a life of peace and pining. That’s when alternate versions of the best friend he’s secretly in love with start showing up.

💙 Two Colors, White and Gold by Carelica (Canon-Divergent | 36K | Explicit): He’s here, he’s alive. His hand is on a tree.

Never go to bed alone when you have a library card by relenafanel/ @relenafanel​ (Library AU | 5K | Teen): Tall, blond hottie (in a sweater) was back, staring at the wall of new and popular titles with a thoughtful expression on his face. He came in every Tuesday night like clockwork, read through the summaries on the back of a handful of books with his profile turned just enough towards the front entrance that Bucky could see the slope of his nose and take joy in watching those arm muscles minutely flex as he shifted the book in his grasp.

💙 Like it’s the Only Thing I’ll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (ABO AU | 39K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky’s apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.

lay all your love on me by chilibabie07 (Canon | 1,4K | Mature): Bucky wakes up to an empty bed and goes to look for Steve so he can be cuddled.

WIP

Baby, you could be the death of me by SinpaiCasanova (Werewolf Steve, ABO AU | 1/2 | 3K | Explicit): It’s strange for him to consider that fate or the universe–whatever is driving this compulsion, really–needs Bucky here for some reason or another, but he’s passed by these woods at least a thousand times before on his way into town, and each time his eyes drifted toward the trees, his heart would give a restless tug against his ribs like an excited dog on a leash. Eventually, the call became too much for him to ignore, and so here he is, surrendering himself to the woods and praying like hell that he doesn’t end up in the belly of a beast by daylight.

The Mnemosyne Project by onymousann (Post-WS | 11K | 4/? | Explicit): Someone’s trying to talk to the Winter Soldier. Steve intends to find out who. (Part 2 of ocean eyes)

💙 How to Fuck With (and Feed) Your Soulmate by BlueSimplicity/ @bluesimplicity73​ (Soulmate AU, Shrunkyclunks | 11/? | 65K | Explicit): It’s called the Grey Space; a patch of skin marking you as blessed and the first sign you have a soulmate. Steve Rogers didn’t have one when he crashed into the ice. But he did when he woke up in the future. The second sign is the Sense, a sharing of one the senses to help soulmates find each other. Steve’s Sense, taste, is rare, but he loves a challenge and a soulmate is a gift from the Fates. Except instead of a blessing, it’s a curse, since his soulmate is a dick. Bucky Barnes loves food and a homecooked meal is something he cherishes. When his Grey Space starts to itch, Bucky can’t help his excitement, since the Sense he and his soulmate share is taste. But not for long. Whoever he’s bound to has the blandest diet in the world, ignoring all Bucky’s messages. After weeks of putting up with tasteless food, Bucky decides to strike back.

Re-Read

We're All Stupid When We're Hurting by Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet​ (Post-WS | 8K | Teen): Bucky had completed missions while in more terrible pain. It was amazing what you could push through when the punishment for failure was so much worse. But he hadn't needed to do that for over a year now. He'd gotten used to not being in pain, remembered what it was like to be human. He knew no one would ever put him in the chair again. He knew he was safe here. He knew Tony could fix his arm without hurting him. Of course he did. But it didn't make a damn bit of difference to the terror that shook him like a dog at just the thought of sitting down and stretching his arm out for Tony to fuck with. Might as well stretch out his neck to have his throat slit. Hell, that'd be easier.

💙 we gotta let go of all of our ghosts by hitlikehammers (Post-WS | 8K | Mature): It’s just hard, really, if he’s honest: this time, more than the first, here in a new millennium, having found Bucky again against all odds, in a time where there was hope, where they could have been… Well. It’s just that it’s bad enough to come in second place to a Stark once in his lifetime. But twice might just be more than Steve can bear.

The thing that drives the wolves away by caughtinanocean/ @wintergaydar​ (Post-WS | 7,8K | Teen): The thing about Bucky these days is that, while he might be a semi-mythical assassin, he's also vulnerable—the kind of vulnerable that makes total strangers want to drape a blanket over his shoulders and take him to safety. The problem is, of course, that Bucky is already safe.

[skullsandwineglasses]

Life Lessons

The things you thought you wanted when you were 18 are very different from the things that you realize are important when you’re 24. 

1. Meet cutes

You fantasize about running into a stranger at a coffee shop, a book store, a library aisle, a grocery store lineup, etc and that you’ll click with them right away. You think “the one” is out there somewhere. But Ashley from bestdressed put it best: do you really think that out of the 7 or 8 billion or so people on the planet, you were born down the street or a city away from your soulmate? How is life going to be that convenient?

I thought college would be my Debut(TM), especially after a comfortable but uneventful time in high school. But college was quite anticlimactic. I was even less social if that was even possible. It’s hard to make friends when you’re not forced to sit next to the same people everyday. You instead meet people from afar who seem to be living, breathing real-life protagonists: beautiful, smart, witty, stylish, artsy, outspoken. I found myself trying to emulate them. I felt like I was falling behind in terms of who I should be in life. 

I tried to take control. If you don’t put yourself out there, how would meet cutes ever happen? So,

I go to coffee shops: but everyone’s too busy to look up from the work on their laptop screens to pay any attention to anyone else. 

I go to bookstores: but everyone’s too busy scanning the titles on the shelves to pay any attention to anyone else. 

I go to the library: see coffee shop.

I’m in the grocery store and someone asks me about the best coconut milk to use for curry: they get their answer and leave. 

I go to a jazz bar: again, everyone’s too busy listening to the band to pay any attention to anyone else.

I go to a swing dance social night: but everyone’s too busy trying to dance with as many different partners as possible in order to diversify their skills to linger any attention on anyone

You can’t say I didn’t try. 

Bonus:

Imagine you’re feeling bummed that you got assigned an aisle seat on the plane, only to approach your seat and see that a cute guy is sitting in the window seat next to yours. Could this be the meet cute you’ve been waiting for? You sit down. He says hi. You return the greeting a little too excitedly. You move to the fasten your seat belt. He speaks again: “So, my girlfriend has a window seat a couple rows back. I was wondering if you...”

Stunned, you pull the seat belt back and get up, gathering your stuff. “Oh yea, for sure, no bother at all. I wanted a window seat anyway.”

I kid you not. Cringe writes itself. It was like the opening of a bad romcom where the side character has one romantic failure after another. 

-> Moral of the story: Don’t expect to arrive at a place hoping that you’ll lock eyes with someone across the room. People go to places for the services that the place provides, and so they’ll be focused on their purpose for having gone to said place. Taylor Swift songs and YA novels did a wonderful job of misinforming me of how indifferent the social environment is like in public spaces. 

2. Exchanging phone numbers

So, maybe someone finally asks for your number. You part ways at the subway station. He promises to talk to you soon. But after 3 days, you wonder why he hasn’t texted you yet. You get a text from him Sunday morning asking you to meet for coffee that evening. You’re outside the cafe at 7:15, waiting. He texts you apologizing for being late because he was jogging around the lake and lost track of time. He says he’s on his way. You never hear from him again. 

-> Moral of the story: Even if you do ending up having a cute first encounter with someone at a subway station, it doesn’t mean things will work out. I’ve been ghosted like this 3 times. It’s gets harder trying to give men the benefit of the doubt each time.

I had thought that my self worth depended on how many strangers would approach me for my number. I thought that being liked was the only way to be validated. And while being asked for your number is flattering the first time, the illusion quickly shatters when you learn that the success of a relationship hinges on more than just the circumstance of the first meeting. 

3. Reading signs

You’re in line at the airport after returning from a conference trip, waiting to get through customs. You finally reach the customs officer who asks about the reason for your trip. 

“A conference,” you say.

“For?”

“Narrative. You know, like storytelling”

He hands you back your passport. “So are you an author?”

“Oh no, I just study the psychology of storytelling”

His face lights up. “Wow yes, storytelling is so important. It’s the foundation of civilization. That’s great”

“I’m glad you’re able to appreciate it. Not many people do when I tell them.”

“Well that’s because they don’t understand how important storytelling is to the basis of civilization. And for me too as someone who works in law enforcement.”

“Yes, for sure,” you say nodding. You look at the line behind you and start to move to leave.

“Well, it’s too bad we can’t talk more. Have a great day, miss”.

You walk towards the exit where the baggage claim is, and your head’s a blur. Was he...flirting? You’ve never met a stranger who was that interested in your research before, much less a border officer who was willing to stall the line just to ask you more about what you do. 

You begin to wonder if you should have left a card or a number so that you could talk later. You know, for research purposes. It’s always nice to make a friend outside your field who shares the same interests as you. But none of that matters now anyway because #ACAB. What’s done is done. But you still wonder about what his intentions were when he started that conversation. It’s too bad we can’t talk more. Yeah. A shame.

-> Moral of the story: Be more assertive. Offer a way to connect if you’re interested. Why do we keep reinforcing the idea that women can only be acted on and can’t act themselves?

4. To love or be loved

Like many young adults, I often question if my mother really understands what it means to be in love. She seems to like the idea of love, the idea of the perfect fateful meeting, but proudly says that she never fully gave her heart to anyone. She’s always warning that it’s better to receive love than to give it. That you end up at a disadvantage if you love first and love more. 

But I think I’d rather have the agency to make that choice than to be chosen. All throughout high school and in the media, we seem to glorify having someone choose us and love us unconditionally. But that’s unrealistic. There’s no such thing as unconditional, but I do hope to get as a close as possible to it. I want to love someone even if they might not love me back. I want to know how it feels like to put someone else first. Maybe this is just another teenage fantasy that has re-manifested itself in adulthood, but I want the freedom of stretching my feelings out than to feel the weight of that of someone else’s whom I can’t reciprocate. 

It also has to do with how much the alpha male is romanticized in our culture. I realize that I don’t want a domineering male version of my mother, who herself is controlling, obsessive, and possessive. I want a friend, not someone who thinks that I constantly need to be coddled and protected for my own good. 

It’s also a stupid expectation to have of real life men. If the men in my life are any indication, then they have goals and ambitions that they want to pursue. Everyone does. A relationship is a mutual support system. It’s not about how much as can take from someone. 

5. Choices

Some people say that you can fall in love with a city by falling in love in that city. 

TW: Sketchy interactions in ubers/taxis

I was grabbing coffee with a guy that I just met in a foreign city that I was visiting. It was approaching 9pm and he said that he had work the next morning, so we decided to call it a day. I was heading towards the subway station when he said that he called an uber and could drop me off at my hotel. Obviously, warning bells went off, but I was so worried about disappointing him, even though I knew that I wouldn’t see him again anyway after that evening. I just didn’t know how to say no. I reluctantly got in the car with him and instantly regretted it. He moved closer, but when he saw that I was uncomfortable, he moved away. Thankfully. We had an awkward conversation, and the driver dropped me off at my hotel after 10 minutes. I was lucky. I knew it. But looking back at the encounter now, I do wonder what would have happened if I had reciprocated the interest. I mean, I was definitely was curious at the time, but mostly because I was inexperienced and a little desperate to be completely honest. But, I knew that I didn’t want my first kiss or first whatever to be with a stranger who I knew I would never see again since I was leaving the next day. I knew about the emotional confusion that it would cause. I also wasn’t prepared to go as far as I thought he wanted to go, so I didn’t want to give him any wrong impressions and assumed that it was just easier to not show any interest at all. From time to time I still wonder about him and how he’s doing and whether I’ll ever run into him again if I’m back in the city. 

-> Moral of the story: Learn to say no and to stop worrying about whether you’ll offend someone because you want to keep yourself safe. I should have never gotten into that car, and my friends always remind me of that every time I tell them that story. I also acknowledge that some people might not always have that choice, and we should never victim blame. 

For me in that situation, I had a mix of different emotions. Curiosity, attraction, anxiety. My friend told me that I should have told him what I felt at the time and what my boundaries were instead of shutting off. But at the same time, he should have been vocal to me too and voiced what he was thinking, instead of just moving closer in the closed space of an uber. Sketchy af. 

6. Fate (is a lie)

I like to believe in the idea of fate and soulmates. My mother always tells me how I was the product of fate and so a part of me feels entitled to a little bit of that magic too. 

But I got my wake-up call when I walked into a dive bar one Friday night and could have sworn that I saw my first crush from middle school sitting at a table in the centre of the room with a group of his friends. 

We made eye contact, but it was too dark to know for sure. I walked past the table to the bar and asked for a table for one. I sat in the corner and watched him and his friends, curiously.

No one just walks into a dive bar and suddenly decides that the first person you see when you walk through the door is someone you once knew from middle school. I was almost sure that it was him. Was he? 

I was in a city an hour away from where we went to middle school. What are the odds. Was it fate? Was it a coincidence? After 12 years of having never seen this kid, I run into him in a dive bar I’ve never been to before in a city I only go visit maybe once every 2 months. 

Out of all the kids I went to middle school with, I had to run into my first crush? Seems like a joke. What kind of message was the universe trying to send?

In the end, I finished my sangria, and left. He never took one look back at me. And I walked out knowing that I’d never see him again. What seemed like an impossible coincidence just ended up mounting to nothing. 

That’s when I learned that coincidences are just coincidences. There’s nothing more to them unless you decide to make something out of them. 

Concluding remarks:

Maybe y’all are smarter and more perceptive than I am and already knew about these things when you turned 18. But these are lessons that took me 6 years to learn and then some. And even at 24 and having a couple of serendipitous experiences under my belt, I’m still no closer to being the confident, mature, and level-headed adult that I think I should be. I still feel 18 with the unrealistic expectations and mentality embodied by someone that age. Hell, to be honest I’m not entirely sure I remember when it feels like to be an 18 year old anymore. I just feel like an inadequate 24 year old. I shouldn’t be insulting 18 year olds like this. 

[rustandyearnings]

How This Ends

Loan Tran

Two weeks into quarantine I read an article in The Atlantic titled, “How the Pandemic Will End.” It still felt wildly early to make any predictions about the future and the course of the virus. It has been now over a year that I have been trying to write a response to what I read, not because of any substantial disagreement but I foresaw then what I know now to be true, that after nearly a year of pandemic life: none of this simply ends. 

There are no numbers and statistics, CDC guidelines, or even well thought out epidemiological reports that captures the depth of what it means that over 2.75 million people have died from COVID-19; over half a million of them alone in the U.S. We have witnessed a year that has made everything that was terrible before, much, much worse. And we know how we got here—especially being in the belly of the beast— we know all too well what regimes of power are capable of in their commitment to greed and profit. If you are like me or if you love people like me, you may know too that the world has come to an end many times before. What is different about this ending? If anything? 

It was mid-March. My partner and I were on our way to the beach for her birthday. During our drive, we got news that the airports were starting to shut down and we were uncertain of the rumors about the National Guard being deployed to ensure compliance with stay-at-home orders. The beach was still there, and still sweet as always. We celebrated her the way we love each other; we ate delicious food, we laughed. She made her family’s shrimp: Lee Adam’s Shrimp. Which is comical, she says, because this was the only dish he would ever cook, and he got it named after him. Meanwhile, the family functioned because of women who made everything else possible. Such is our lives. 

The Atlantic Ocean on the coast of North Carolina in mid-March is wind-swept, vast, very quiet. The sand becomes these large mountains to be trekked over before the water meets your eyeline. But once you see it, you know exactly where the ocean departs the sky. It was terribly cold. Yet, I was grateful to be by the water as our world began to shake us into conference calls and organizing meetings. Within just a few short hours of our Governor declaring lock down, we had formed the United for Survival and Beyond coalition. And knowing the year we were going to have and coming out of years of pavement pounding work, we were already exhausted. Deeper than the exhaustion is the truth that we must stick together, and we must find a way to continue on, especially now, with the cards so clear on the table: some of us will live and some of us will die. And there will be no logic to the madness.

The political work is instinctual to me; it makes sense in any crisis to bring together as many people as possible to understand a situation and to then take action. But the political work is also sometimes slow moving, even when we are all speeding and incredibly busy. So, I did other work that I felt, by my own standards, was more tangible. Like organizing a group chat of the queers I know who need medication on a regular basis. Or joining the local Mutual Aid Groups (and then promptly leaving all of the groups, which was simply a matter of exiting the Signal threads). Making a phone tree that was unreasonably the size of a phone book itself was an early action, too. And of course, cooking. There have been gallons upon gallons of pho. And gumbo. And at least 1,000 meatballs. Anything to attempt at satiating what I knew would become a growing hunger inside of me for a normalcy that still has not yet returned.

Things were deteriorating quickly all around me. By March’s end, my mom and I are on hold with her retirement company. She wants to get her money out of her account before the stock market steals it all away. This economic system routinely comes tumbling down for her; and often does it too line the pockets of the already ultra-wealthy. She has earned her retirement from working at the same alterations shop for over 20 years. She is paid for the time it takes to hand sew sequins onto wedding gowns that cost more than her year’s entire salary. She makes the inseam of your boutique jeans go from 32” to 30” with you never knowing the difference. She helps make people feel good, never questioning their own frivolousness in paying someone else to replace a missing button on their jacket. Her job has treated her well. This pandemic was beginning to test it as she’s filed for unemployment, without assistance from her bosses. The alliances that had shaped her life up until this point were beginning to fall apart, as is the case for so many of us. 

It would become easier in the summer, but even then, the sweaty walks and the sitting outside in the beating sun just to eat a meal with someone who I wasn’t also sleeping with most nights began to tire me. I was unsatisfiable. I am lucky to have eaten many good meals, celebrate even more pandemic birthdays, and have extra money to keep supporting my parents’ and sister’s bills in between our socially distanced visits. Things would seem relatively calm for some weeks, when I felt like the weather wasn’t badgering on me. Which is to also say, that when things felt turbulent, it really just meant I was incredibly sad. 

As I’ve been writing this piece in my mind, mulling over—as I usually do—which details feel relevant enough to evidence in words, the world around us has danced to the precipice of something new and back again. In between it all, I have had some of the most elaborate dreams of my life, the dreams at the heart of how I wish life could be. 

I am home in Viet Nam. The sky is a dreamy pink, small stripes of orange and some residual blue as the sun sets and the moon takes over. I am sitting by the water and before me stretches a few miles of the bay. On the other side, mountains: spotted gray from granite and green from trees. I think to myself, “this is beautiful” and I take out my phone so I don’t forget what this looks like. My mom is here with me and it is quiet and perfect. Standing in line waiting to buy coffee from a street vendor, I think to myself, “wow, I get to be here,”; there are children and their parents who look my kin weaving around my stillness on the side of the road. I smile at someone I clock to be like me: a little odd, short haired, sweet looking in the face, stern and tough but kind in spirit. Then I wake up. It’s a dream. And all I know is that it’s a beautiful, perfect dream. 

While time stretched and I could dream and I could travel in my mind, buoyed by my memories, telling stories that after the 3rd or 4th re-telling feels almost untrue, time also pulled me back to reality. To the everyday where I had few answers for the big question of: what now? 

So what of time now? What is its worth? And what is worth it? I wear a watch every day still and I check my calendar still. And I still want Fridays to feel how Fridays are supposed to feel, still: they should release me. I still want to wake up slow on a Sunday, my favorite day, still. Things feel numbered and open all at once. Do I measure the worth of my life in this way or that? Do I consider tragedy to be where we start or is it having a witness to it that makes the clock run? Do I count the pints of soup I have made? What about the distance between us? There have been more cardinals than usual, but I’m really not counting. I do miss the children in the streets and the laughter beaming from their hands. Making sense of quiet and calling this place, my ever-growing city of just nearly 270,000 people, a ghost town seems a little defeatist; some days it seems just right, and some days it feels like an opening: to stop counting the time. 

There is a slowness of this period that I have come to appreciate, even as it frustrates me. The slowness to remember and reconsider and re-learn the basic unit of relating: care; to care for each other and to care for ourselves. And we are being subject to the realities of care’s absence: there are millions of people—while they toil and make our world turn, even against the heaviest measures of despair—are disregarded as undeserving of housing, of health(care), of food, of life itself. 

These systems of violence and domination continue to evolve, as showcased by this next phase of neoliberalism, with its elite colors and sloganeering. Coca-Cola racial justice investments and Nike’s you can do it to end racism and NFL’s $250,000,000 check to shut it (what, exactly?) down. Our task is more urgent than ever, yet there is still, simply this: you and I making a road where perhaps previously there was not, where perhaps previously there were, and it had been bombed or torn apart.

I am on the eve of my second pandemic birthday. And between the last time I dared contemplate how this ends and this moment now, there have been attempted coups and multiple mass shootings; there have been more vaccines distributed in the 1st world and essentially none for our sisters, brothers, and kin to the global south. Schools in my city are reopening and the people who suffer are made to blame each other.

A pandemic of this kind, through which a virus has served as the vehicle sounding the sirens of human plight, has the potential to lure us towards conclusions about the ever-deepening crises of white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism that will be regretful for us in the long-term. Namely, while it is true many things are outside of our control, like how a virus may mutate or transmit, there is so much more that is within our control.

We have witnessed that even in the middle of a pandemic, our people have risen up across the globe to declare that there must be another way to live. What deserves to be said again and again is that on one hand there is the science of this pandemic and the science of greed which profits on sickness; on the other is clear the science of solidarity; the science of organizing; the science of returning people back to each other; a sense of attention, a regard for care, an interest in ourselves and each other and the planet as people and places worthy of a world different than what centuries of violence and domination have conditioned and forced us toward.

At last, I do not know what the end of this pandemic means. But it seems to the hopeful, revolutionary optimist in me, that we have tried our raggedy best this year. I have appreciated more than ever our attempts at an honesty we may not have been willing to demonstrate. It seems to me that I haven’t been the only one to lie about how much I don’t know. And if you are looking for a script right now, about how to be, or how to cope, or how to regard yourself as belonging to those around you who do not look like you or speak like you or understand as you understand, I hope you’ll remember that there is no one else to make the future but us if we are to see ourselves in it.

I am embarrassed by my desperate need for things to return to normal. I am so desperate that I lay awake at night: wanting something I know I cannot have and the intelligent part of me knows that if I could have it, it would not be good for me or the people I love. The desperation is also a grief, fear, fatigue. But I also lay awake some nights taking audit of my gratitude; that beside me is my lover deep in restful sleep, that somehow in the morning our hands always find each other; and when we get out of bed, to make breakfast, or step outside: there is another day that affords me the time to learn how to be more human, and perhaps that is what this is worth. And those of us who still have it in us, and even those of us who feel that we have lost it, we must help this situation by becoming more and more human, as that is the only way I would want this to end. 

This piece is dedicated to my dear friends who have kept me this year, in particular Zaina, Mindy, Margo, and Nadeen. It is also dedicated to our beloved Elandria (E) Williams, may they continue to rest in piece and know that we are taking their mandate for us to care, seriously. It is dedicated to the best pandemic pal and partner I could have ever asked for, who has also vowed to return the favor next pandemic, Chantelle. This is dedicated to the streets, to the uprisings, to all people everywhere who believe life doesn’t have to be this way, that we are so much more—these people include city workers, educators, youth and students, organizers, healthcare workers, and more. Thanks for the example of your lives.

[findthefuninlife]

Short Story (Been A While)

Remember This Feeling

Trees flew by the window of the car, blurs of branches and railings were all that were seen for the first six hours of the road trip. The sky went from sunny clear bright blue to gloomy dull shades of red, blue, yellow mixes. I sat in the back seat, one leg perched on top of my other, book in my lap and pen rattling against my top and bottom teeth, a nervous habit. Luckily, in my writing process it was a more well known habit for me to do this when I couldn’t think of the next turn of events. This wasn’t an inaccurate observation, truthfully it was both of these but mostly the nervousness.

She sat next to me staring out the window short blonde hair falling just before her shoulders. She could stare at the wilderness, natural environment for hours and lose herself in it. You could almost see the intoxication in her eyes, you couldn’t tell what she saw, but there was a different kind of fire in them when she was out there. Her elbow on the armrest, head propped up on her hand, pinky slightly tugging at her lower lip. She wore black sweat pants, a red hoodie with white lettering on the sleeves. Her legs were curled under her, feet sitting on the seat. She kicked off her shoes after the first hour of the ride. The string from her hoodie rested in her mouth, she wasn’t chewing on it, just had it there, a trademark I’m sure.

Aaaaaand I’m staring— again. I tore my eyes away and looked back at my half filled pages titled, “It’s Been A While”. It’s been a while since a lot of things. I haven’t been out in god knows how long, I haven’t written in even longer. Words on paper gave me a purpose, a moment of clarity, drive to be more than I ever thought I could be. In the times that words appeared on canvas I felt like I was the most important person in the world, to every character I wrote about I was their savior, their justice, their desires, everything. Writing allowed for a door to a place that I could never really be.

The eyes that were staring at me in the rear view mirror, concerned but familiar told me that in doing this was out of character or such an older sight that it’s a need for concern. Amy, my ever long best friend, friend of all friends could quote me before I even spoke sometimes. It was incredibly annoying with arguments but it’s a sign of true growth and friendship. Her husband in the passenger seat next to her was asleep, as always in these long rides to who knows where. Jules, short of Julian never had the patience or interest in car games, passing time by distracting yourself with trivial outside observations. He was calculated, quiet but get a few drinks in him and he’d be bouncing off the walls and unexpectedly the loudest person in the bar. Though the sober, quiet demeanor was often mistaken for rudeness or dislike, he proved to be a sweet guy overall. I gave him my blessing to marry my best friend only after meeting with him a few times. 

A small cough came from the driver, “So,” no good conversation ever starts with ‘so’ I thought to myself. 

“So, what are you writing about Niko?” Amy, still looking back at me through the rear view mirror said breaking the silence within the car. 

“It’s... uhm, y-ya’ know just a short story.” Great, now I’m stammering for some reason. Sam, the friend of Amy that was invited to go on the trip with us looked up and away from the window for the first time and took a quick glance at me with my notebook and pen in hand. Her eyes were green, blue, gold, strikingly beautiful. Her lips looked soft, a shade of pink coated on top, a slight line dividing the bottom lip. The hoodie she wore held the back hairs up giving it more volume. I thought to myself that they reminded me of a golden waterfall. 

“But, uh how’s driving? Do you need to switch off anytime soon?” Horribly basic question in a car ride, there was something wittier on tongue but I decided to keep things mellow for now. 

“Maybe next stop, Jules’s quiet snoring tires me out sometimes, but I’m good for now. Samantha! You’re so quiet, why don’t you guys play a game or something?!” Amy, was notorious for setting people up for awkward conversations, cutting the tensions of others like it was sport. 

“Well, I mean I don’t re-” Sam had started to say going wide eyed for a bit, clearly being off guard. Amy strikes again.

“So, have you ever.. have you ever..” Geez why am I stuttering so damn bad, “have you ever been outside of Delaware?” See, nothing ever good comes from a conversation that starts with “So.” Who the hell asks a question like that. 

“I haven’t actually.” She looked outside again breaking eye contact with me and staring again back at the passing trees. 

We were on our way out of the state to visit Amy’s brother who was in the military in Virginia. He invited her to see the ships in the ship yard and see his work station. 

I started to sink back into my seat when I realized that was probably the end of the conversation and everything was starting to feel awkward. I started a side conversation with this beautiful girl and that was the best opening I had? 

“Have you ever been outside the state?” Sam had asked still looking out. 

“I have, a few times, but I always end up back home.” I was surprised, I rarely get asked questions in conversations I think are going down hill. Hell, most of the time it’s just me asking and the other just answers. I really need to get a life. 

We both tried talking then stopping each other’s sentence. 

“No, you go first.”

“No really it’s fine. It was a stupid question”

“No, no please go.”

This went on until Amy couldn’t take it anymore, a small smile starting to creep on her face in watching. “Alright! Sam then Niko!” 

We both stopped when we both realized that it wasn’t just us in this conversation. Feeling like a deer in head lights I simply sat back in my seat.

Well, there goes the conversation. Thanks Ame's— now what? Peaking over I saw that she didn't turn back to the window, instead she twirled her hoodie strings in her fingers. I wanted to give it a shot; I scribbled quickly in my notebook, meticulous to not write too much to make it seem like I was going to be diving back into my literature. I tore the page out and held it in my hand. I leaned forward putting my face close to Amy, "Whatcha doing?!" The sudden jerk forward spooked her and she let out a tiny yelp. As I leaned forward I was hoping to obscure her view as I passed the note to Sam. Luckily for me, she took it out of my hand. I continued to chat up Ame's until I felt like my paper ripping was long forgotten.

The car ride went smoothly all the way up to the hotel.

We got out, stretched our legs and were in for the night.

I sat up in bed as I always did, notebook open in front of me, my thoughts written across the pages. I raked my hands through my hair hoping for more thoughts to jingle their way out of me as I did. The words "Its Been A While" titled the page. "Ya' know I used to write before all of this. Now I just scribble and tear pages out." I spoke to no one in particular in my empty room. Sometimes it was easier saying my thoughts as I wrote them out, sometimes my what I said I didn't want recorded. I'd prefer the words to fade since the nightmares won't. Maybe it'll too make them less real.

A knock at the door brought me out of screen of writers block. Before I got up to answer a slip of paper flew under the door. I'm not going to lie, a spark started in my chest and a small smile crept up on my face. I hopped out of bed flipping my notebook over on the floor. I picked up the note and unfolded it. In the car I passed a message saying, "Tell me a story" in response I saw three separate lines where she started to write and scribbled it out. Finally at the bottom it said, "Meet me in lobby then." I threw on some workout clothes and a ball cap and went out. As soon as the door shut behind me I remembered my key card to the room sitting on the nightstand. "Guess there's no going back now. "

Rounding the corner I took the fire escape down two sets of stairs and came into the lobby. It was about 10 o' clock at night, the place was empty. One receptionist sat at the kiosk legs propped on the counter reading a People's magazine. The only other person in the room was Sam, standing in the middle of the lobby by the fire place. She hadnt changed from the outfit we traveled in. I walked up unfolding the piece of paper she left me. “This must be quite the story.” She turned and smiled, “I can’t promise it’ll be amazing, but I’m not much of a writer so I thought I’d tell it to you instead.” 

We ended up walking around the hotel building, then down to the pier. It was awkward at first if I’m being honest but this was a strange circumstance to begin with. I asked her what story I was in for and she responded by just talking. It started with her college days, her aspiration to leave the east coast, her troubles with choosing a major, her dream of becoming a music teacher. She didn’t have siblings, her dad worked all the time and she was kind of an introvert oddly enough since she was talking so much. 

“Am I talking a lot?” She turned back at me a few steps behind and asked.

“No, not at all. College, dreams, siblings, the whole lot, I know you’re life now.” I just speculated and said what was on my mind. It’s moments like these that I hate myself and my impulses. As I said it I thought of how rude it could seem or even sarcastic in nature, which it truly wasn’t but, there it goes.

“Oh, we’ve got a comedian. Here you have a pretty girl telling you her whole life story and that’s how you respond to it?” She said with a smile.

“I am quite funny when I’m not brooding I must admit. You life sounds like something I’ve never heard before. Ame’s told me about, but small stuff, like that you were pretty and a good person, you know only things that aren’t important.” 

“You do brood, for all the hours I’ve known you... aaall,” she looked at her watch then, “6 hours of knowing you.” 

“6 hours and I know your whole life story. I must be quite the detective or you must quite lonely.” 

It must’ve been how I said it because she perked up at that, whether it was mildly insulting, maybe true, but she responded with, “Are you quite lonely?” 

I don’t know what possessed her to ask but, she saw through it, my statement to myself. The sun would come up soon, somehow the night passed us by as we walked and talked. “I am, only when I’m by myself.”

“Well that’s obvious.” 

“Well you asked.” 

“You know what I mean. What’s the doom and gloom of late?”

“Of late? You mean by my 8 hours of knowing you?”

This was the first time she stammered in all of the talking she did. “W-well yes, I mean, that and...”

I already knew what she was going to say.

She continued, “... and Amy told me about your brother. He—”

I cut her off with, “Enough." It came out harsher than intended but not by much. "I appreciate the chance to get to know you, Let's get going to the hotel.”

She began to speak but I already spun around and started walking. I was done with the conversation, a small heat building in my chest burning away the spark of lightning that was there. I was taller than she was and I knew my natural stride would create a good distance between us so I kept her behind me. I let the sound of footsteps behind me and the morning birds chirping fade into the background.

"Hey!"  A piercing sound broke my tsunami of thoughts that were about to crash onto me. I got about 4 steps away from her before she yelled my way.

"Hey," she walked up to me, "look, I'm sorry Ame's tells people too much, but shes your best friend and she's worried about you."

"Look, I get that but I—"

"Let me finish," she put a finger up. "Ame's told me what was going on and to avoid the subject but little do you know or notice, I was one of your brother's friends. Well... mentors. We've actually met before but you were too wrapped up in your own shit to see me."

"That's not tru—"

"Yeah? Where do you know me from before a few hours ago?" She looked expectedly at me.

"You, uh... you were ..." staring at her face I did recall her. It was a faint memory but at my brothers session, the receptionist, in a suit and thick framed glasses, hair brought back in a tight bun. "You were the receptionist, at Mitch's therapy sessions." My voice choked up in the middle of his name. How long had it been since I spoke it to other people. The word tasted of ash in my mouth.

"Yes. That's true." She recoiled some, probably not expecting me to have recognized her.

"Mitchel talked about you. Said you were the light of the office, too pretty not to smile at, no matter how bad his spells were." My hands ended up in my pockets and I was clinching my sides. "Ms'antha? I believe he called you. He told me about your internship and the sessions you'd have before his therapist got in. He said you'd make a great therapist someday and that he was going to miss...you." Something stirred in my chest, something dark and impulsive. The question came out of nowhere, harsh and vile. "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

My voice came out darker and more pronounced. "Did—you—know?!" I was looking at her my eyes burning, fists clinched so tightly I could feel the nails digging into my palms, my arms were shaking.

"No, of course I didn't. He didn't say anything and he stopped coming in, we didn't hear the news til the second night of."

The news. Like it was something to broadcast and display. I remember hearing the headline on the TV "Troubled teen jumps off of interstate Bridge."

The burning cooled as a tear fell from my eye. I quickly wiped it away and shoved my hand back in my pocket. I realized I was too invested in this and needed to leave. As I turned back around I heard a quick lunge forward and she grabbed my arm and kept me from fully turning around. I suddenly was very conscious of her touch, it felt warm but still everything about me felt cold. I was shivering. Her fingers barely touched my skin. Most of her hand engulfed in the jacket. She turned me around and hugged me, full strength and buried her head in my neck.

"I'm so sorry." She said holding me tightly, my arms will in my pockets.

It took me a while, I had been blankly staring at nothing in particular, but i finally spoke broken hearted, "I-I don't want sorry's. I want to call him and not listen to his voice mail." That hurt, the knot in my throat was swelling, like i couldn't swallow the cannon ball down, it was suffocating. "I-Its full y'know. His voice-mail." The cannonball turned into a watermelon. I had to lift my head up to try and make it go down but it wouldn't. My shivering got worse and my vision was starting to blur from the tears. My face grew hot and my nose felt like needles were bein put through it. This was unbearable. I started to cry. Every "are you okay" every "we can talk about it" every "im here for you" every single fucking one was nothing to me. Im not okay, I dont wanf to talk about it and the only person I want here is him.

It had been 2 months since his passing and it was my first funeral I'd ever went to. Little Mitch was only 16 when he passed. I dont think I've ever experienced any pain worse than this. Life goes on but you're stuck in a perpetual state of 'what the fuck'. Everyday you look at the things that used to be and wonder how they were ever that way. Every day you look at the door and wonder when its going to open and you'll see that goofy ass smile. Everyday no matter where you go you think you see them at the corner of your eye and your waiting to kick their ass for playing the most torturous game of hide-n-go-seek ever. You wait to have a hug from behind and its them, a call to your phone with their name.

I dont know how long we'd been standing but I felt weak. I didnt want to stand anymore. Along the docks there was a tree and a patch of grass. Id found my way there and laid down closing my eyes. I dont even remember where Sam was, but I knew she was near me.

((I'm gonna come back to this one later))

[umbrellaacademyfun]

“The Gift Exchange” - a Fanfic

I decided to participate in a TUA Secret Santa gift exchange. ( @secret-santa-klaus) This is my gift for @siolasart! Title: The Gift Exchange

Summary: When the Hargreeves decide to do a gift exchange, Diego has a difficult time finding a gift for Vanya.

Notes:

- AU where the apocalypse was stopped and they still don’t know Vanya has powers. (Don’t ask; just go with it.)

- I’ve never written for Diego before, so this was a bit challenging. Hopefully it’s still enjoyable!

- This is TV show-based

- Available to read on AO3 Read below:

Diego had done a lot of challenging things in his time. Fighting bad guys with the Umbrella Academy was very difficult, despite having a team. Taking on criminals as a vigilante was often arduous as well. Jail was no picnic either. Yet, despite having done all of these things, somehow the task before him was proving to be the most grueling thing he had ever done: Buying a gift for Vanya Hargreeves. 

It was Vanya and Allison’s idea. They were the ones to realize that the family was going to be together for the holidays for the first time since they were teens. Any gift giving had been done on the down-low, holidays being something not outwardly celebrated in the Hargreeves household. (Holidays, Reginald had said, were simply an excuse for less training.) Now that their old man was gone, they had the chance to truly enjoy a Christmas together. The large tree was already sitting in the mansion. Lights and decorations had been sprawled about different areas. Each little section looked different from the next, dependent entirely on who decorated that portion of the house. Though the differences made it a little bit chaotic, there remained a festive feeling to the whole look. The only thing that was missing was gifts. 

This is when Allison suggested they purchase each other gifts. Vanya refined the idea. Being of less money than Allison, and recognizing that a few of her brothers may be in the same financial circumstance, Vanya had an alternate plan. They would each pull one name out of a hat, and purchase a gift for that particular person. Everyone had agreed to this new arrangement. The names were pulled, and Diego found himself reading off the name “Vanya Hargreeves.”

Now, Diego was driving around town, looking for any sort of inspiration. Klaus was in the back, making plenty noise, whispering seemingly to himself. The sound was so consistent, that Diego grew capable of drowning it out. Like white noise for someone to sleep, it became the tones which helped carry Diego’s thoughts. 

He passed by a flower shop. Did Vanya like flowers? Diego realized he didn’t really know what she liked. There had never been a reason for him to focus too hard on Vanya’s preferences or interests. A lot of times, he actively avoided opportunities to learn about her. Particularly after the book. 

The book. Thinking about it now made him angry once more. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Remembering Vanya’s words that she had written for all to see flooded his mind with a number of items to buy her, ranging from thoughtless to mean: A matchbox. Some coal. Her own book. (“Thought you could use the boost in sales,” he would say.) The trio of items together would suggest she should burn her book, a sentiment that curved the corners of his mouth into small smile. 

He shook his head. This was against his plan. This holiday, he had decided, would be an opportunity to make amends. An opportunity to, somewhat begrudgingly, put the past behind him. Allison had encouraged this gentler thinking. While he had made no indication that he agreed to it, the thought had been kept at the front of his mind until it grew into a desire of his own. The next shop to catch his eye was a lingerie shop. The “nope” in his mind was so loud, he had to wonder if he had said it out loud.

“Oh, this is perfect.” The voice came from the back seat. Klaus, of course, had hitched a ride. “You can let me out here.”

Diego gladly pulled over, waiting for Klaus to exit. The former looked again out the window. 

“You think Luther wants lingerie?” Diego raised an eyebrow. 

“No, not here. There,” said Klaus, motioning off towards some other, equally questionable shop. 

Diego paused, trying to determine if he should speak up. Remembering the gift was going to Luther, he decided otherwise. 

“Okay,” he said. “Have fun.”  

Klaus stepped out and wandered off, leaving Diego truly alone with his thoughts. As he continued driving, he felt more resentful. Why did he have to buy a gift? Why did he have to buy a gift for Vanya? There were easier people to get gifts. He knew for certain what Klaus would want (whether he’d buy it or not was a different kind of conflict.) Five would probably be easy. If it was coffee or a nice drink, he’d be set. His gift to Luther would probably be something monkey-themed (and not in the spirit of making amends.) His mind continued to avoid the task at hand, determining what gift he would buy for everyone else in the family. By the next block, he had a full list for everyone except Vanya, including Pogo and Mom. 

He almost stopped his car suddenly. He realized something in this moment: No one was getting a gift for Pogo or Mom. This was an egregious oversight – and a convenient excuse for Diego. The whole event must be re-done. Never matter if most of the others had already purchased their gifts; they must re-draw new names with Mom and Pogo included. Diego saw the chance to get a new name, and an easier person for whom to buy a gift. 

He pulled over, finding a place to park with a meter. After loading the meter with several minutes worth of change, he set off quickly. He crossed one, street. Then another street. Another turn around a street, and he saw what he was looking for: A pay phone. 

The phone on the other end rang twice before someone answered. 

“Hello?” Allison. Just the voice Diego wanted to hear. 

“We have to cancel the gift exchange,” said Diego. 

“Why?” asked Allison. She said the word with an incredulous tone before Diego could even explain himself. 

“Mom and Pogo aren’t included. You really think, after all they’ve done, that they shouldn’t be a part of this? And don’t feed me some lines about how Mom isn’t a person.” 

“Oh,” said Allison. Her voice was much smaller now. Diego felt himself start smiling; he was winning. 

“I thought I told you,” she said. “We thought we should go in together and buy them a gift. They’ve done so much for us. I mean, they took care of us more than Dad ever did. They deserve something nicer. I was hoping you could pick something for Mom? You know her the best.”

Diego felt his heart sinking. A swirl of guilt and gratitude and affection mixed in his core. Allison had considered everything, including how kind their mom had been to them. Diego was touched that she entrusted him with picking something for their mom, a much easier purchase for him. This also meant that Diego was stuck still choosing something for Vanya.

“Diego?” He hadn’t said anything for several minutes, wasting change in the process. 

“That’s,” he started before he stumbled over his words. “That’s a good idea.” 

“Great!” She said. “Let me know what you have in mind and I’ll buy it if you don’t have time. It’ll be nice to finally do something for her.”

“Yeah,” agreed Diego. Throughout his life, their mom had been there for all of them. No matter when or what was going on, she always knew just what to say or do. Mom knew each of them better than anyone, knowing exactly what they wanted or needed at anytime. 

A light bulb switched on in his mind. Where there had been a dark fog, now clarity resided. He had no idea what to get Vanya – but there was someone who would. 

“Actually,” he started. “Can you put Mom on the line?”

The day arrived. The children, now adults, were gathered together near their oversized tree. Eight gifts were beneath, humbled by the size of the evergreen fir looming over them. Each one had a tag with their own individual “to” and “from.” Allison ceremoniously handed them out. Vanya helped, giving them to her siblings with less formality. 

Each was opened simultaneously, for which Diego was grateful. Despite the help with his gift, he was, for reasons he couldn’t explain, nervous to see her reaction. Now he could ignore what she did when she saw the present exposed for what it was. 

He could also ignore the modest piece of jewelry Luther had given Allison, paying no mind to how in awe she looked, despite owning pieces twice as beautiful. 

There was no reason to notice the puzzle of the earth from space that Klaus had given Luther, though Diego heard Klaus declare “so you could remember the view from up there!” 

He missed Five’s eyes grow wide with interest at his new coffee maker and collection of exquisite roasts – the closest expression he would give to a smile. (Allison still recognized it as gratitude.)

Vanya’s brief, insecure muttering about the skirts she gave Klaus got Diego’s  attention. (“This way,” she said, “you don’t have to borrow Allison’s. And they can be more in style?”) His mind suggested her apprehensive muttering had been about his gift. Listening more closely gave him a sense of comfort, before reminding him to stop paying attention for when she actually saw his gift. 

Instead, he focused on the gift he held in his own hands. It was a beautiful set of throwing knives gifted by Five. (When asked how they were obtained, Five mumbled something about not asking too many questions.) The blades shined gloriously, the glint from the sun looking crisp and clear and marvelous. Both the handles and blades had an intricate, interwoven design engraved near the edges. These were the type of blades that could become a calling card, a warning to any criminals that saw them that the Kraken was on their trail. 

“Diego!” he heard cried out. When he turned his head, he saw Vanya looking into the now-opened box. She looked at him, something like wonder on her face. “This is amazing. How did you know?”

“Don’t get use to it,” he said dryly. He turned his attention back to his new blades. The poker face was strong with this one, refusing to let him show how pleased he was with her reaction. How, almost more than the knives he had received, getting her gift right made this a great Christmas for him. 

Yet, when Vanya went in for a hug, Diego didn’t protest.

[dysphoric-dumbass13]

All of the bookish asks. I hate you. And your stupid fucking face. Im so tired dude i stayed up ridiculously late to finish that

Hey I stayed up ridiculously late to finish mine too. Well not ridiculously late because me and then I couldn't fall asleep anyways but whatever. And you literally love me you jackass.

1. (what book did you last finish? when was that?) Willingly? Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli, in July. For school? Of Mice And Men. I didn’t care that much, and I forgot to finish A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but I still finished my project fine without any issue whatsoever and should get at least a B, if not an A. But whatever.

2. (what are you currently reading?) The Odyssey, for school. But also I’m like ¾ of the way through What If It’s Us by Adam Silvera and Becky Albertalli. (what book are you planning to read next?) Well for English it will have to be A Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglass by Fredrick Douglass, Night by Elie Wiesel, Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston, or Lord of the Flies by William Golding. However, I really want to read The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. And I’m also trying to get a hold of the Harry Potter books because I haven’t read them since I was 7, and I was a compulsive moron so I read them out of order based on length and the title. I did that a lot.

3. (what was the last book you added to your tbr?) I don’t fully know what it means by that, but I’ll give this a try. The last thing I remember actively seeking out that I need to read again (for writing purposes, and the fact that I’m a nerdy bastard) was the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling.

4. (which book did you last re-read?) Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli, I loved it so much that I read it twice in one month. I also re-read Simon vs. the Homosapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli twice before moving to the former.

5. (which was the last book you really, really loved?) Again, Leah on the Offbeat. I loved that book so much oh my god.

6. (what was/were the last books you bought?) I actually bought 3 books in September (after I got all my books for English), which were Leah on the Offbeat, Simon vs. the Homosapiens Agenda, and The Song of Achilles.

7. (paperback or hardcover? why?) Paperback. The hurt less to hold while reading, and they’re cheaper so I can buy more of them. But I do love a hardcover book if the cover is really intricate and beautiful.

8. (ya, na, or adult? why?) Idk. To me it doesn’t matter all that much as long as it’s a good book. I really like anything that isn’t racist, sexist, super heteronormative, transphobic, or hating of any particular religion (except like if it’s vaguely poking fun at catholicism and christianity because we deserve it)

9. (sci-fi or fantasy? why?) Fantasy. God I just fucking LOVE fantasy. I wrote a 20,000-word oneshot that was of the fantasy genre. I just love it too much.

10. (classic or modern? why?) Idk. Doesn’t really matter, again, as long as it isn’t racist, transphobic, against a religious group, or too heteronormative.

12. (political memoirs or comedic memoirs?) Idk man. But I hate politics in every way, shape, and form, so I’m gonna go with comedic memoirs.

13. (name a book with a really bad movie/tv adaptation) Um………. idk. I’m gonna go with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire simply because of the fact that they cut so much out and, sorry not sorry, if the whole series was written by someone not transphobic, homophobic, and antisemitic it would be better. It’s great, but it could be so much better.

14. (name a book where the movie/tv adaptation was actually better than the original) Again idk. I’m gonna say The Princess Bride because that movie is so fucking good guys.

15. (what book changed your life?) I know it’s not technically a book book, but Unknown Colors by Gabriels_Wings on Wattpad. It got me into reading again and that’s only benefitted me so far (except for distracting me from homework, but who cares).

16. (if you could bring three books to a deserted island, which would they be and why?) Well, obviously, Simon vs the Homosapiens Agenda and Leah on the Offbeat (ok I’m gonna some up with abbreviations now, LotO for the latter and SvtHA for the former), and the last spot would be between The Song of Achilles and The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein. Because they’re good books. And I’m gonna end up dying on said island and I need my gay fix with me.

17. (if you owned a bookshop what would you call it?) Oof, that’s hard. Probably….. Narnia. And it would be a very gay place with beanbags and a small coffee shop inside and it would be like this one place my mom went to all the time where you could buy a book and if you wanted to you could bring it back and they’d buy it back for slightly less than you bought it for. It was a great place. And my bookshop would be amazing.

18. (which character from a book is the most like you?) Toughie. I’m gonna go with… Blaise Zabini from Harry Potter or Abby Suso from SvtHA and LotO. Because Blaise is very gay and sassy (idk if he actually is in the books but hey, fanfiction) and Abby is a bi disaster and relatable af.

19. (which character from a book is the least like you?) Idk. Hannah Abbott? Because she’s a Hufflepuff? Idk man.

20. (best summer read?) LotO.

21. (best winter read?) Been a while since I actually remember reading a book in winter. I remember when I was in 5th grade I really loved reading Where The Mountain Meets The Moon by Grace Lin. That was good. But I think The Hobbit would be good too.

22. (pro or anti e-readers? why?) Pro, it makes reading at random places so much easier. Plus, I can then read gay fanfic at my christian grandparents’ houses.

23. (bookdepository or amazon?) I’ve never used Book Depository, but I looked it up (omg Kass you aren’t going to believe it, I googled something on my own!) and it seems smaller and cooler because it’s just books. So I’m gonna go with that one.

24. (do you prefer to buy books online or in a bookshop?) In a bookshop without a doubt, you can browse for hours. I love bookshops

25. (if you could be a character in a book for just one day, who would you be and why? bonus: any specific day in the story?) Simon Spier. From SvtHA. On the day of the carnival fair thing. Because zqawxsedcrfvtgbyhnujmikolplomiknujybhtvgrfcedxwszqa

26. (if you could be a character in a book for their entire life, who would you be and why?) Again Simon Spier. Because infdjfcdncewhfiubdkjcnsoawehfwedscnsaoufgrwiofbv cisahcsoainh

27. (if you could change one thing about mainstream literature, what would you change?) NO. MORE. DISCRIMINATION! And I swear to god people, quit idolizing authors who are racist or sexist or transphobic or homophobic or against certain religions or anything else because I swear they don’t deserve it! No more discrimination in the media guys.

28. (how many books have you read so far this year?) A lot. Idk the actual amount but a lot. Especially if we’re counting fanfic.

29. (how do you sort your shelves?) I don’t actually own enough books to sort lol. But I assume I would sort them alphabetically by author. And if I had a ton of books, I’d sort them further into genres.

30. (who’s your favorite author?) Becky Albertalli.

31. (who’s your favorite contemporary author?) Idk. I’m not that smart, I don’t put authors into genre categories.

32. (who’s your favorite fantasy author?) See above.

33. (who’s your favorite sci-fi author?) See above.

34. (list 5 otps) Oh god, here I go. Pansmione (Pansy Parkinson x Hermione Granger from Harry Potter), Wolfstar (Remus Lupin x Sirius Black from Harry Potter), Sabriel (Sam Winchester x Gabriel from Supernatural), Johnlock (John Watson x Sherlock from Sherlock), and Merthur (Merlin x Arthur Pendragon from Merlin).

35. (name a book you consider to be terribly underrated) What If It’s Us by Adam Silvera and Becky Albertalli.

36. (name a book you consider to be terribly overrated) Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck.

37. (how many books are actually in your bookshelf/shelves right now?) 19, including a book I accidentally stole from my 7th grade LA teacher (sorry), and a college workbook I stole from my dad on lifesaving first aid for heart problems. + 1 movie (Love, Simon), 5 comic books, and an adult coloring book because why not. I also have 2 full boxes downstairs full of kids books (about half of which I've never read or have any interest in reading) from when I moved.

38. (what language do you most often read in?) English because I’m a dumb bitch and don’t know other languages well enough. I might be able to stumble through a kid’s book in French, and I could read a basic novel in Spanish.

39. (name one of your favorite childhood books) Goodnight Moon was one of my favorites. I also was obsessed with Where The Mountain Meets The Moon by Grace Lin, and when I was about 5 my mom would read The Hobbit to my brother and I when she got home from work if she was working a half day, or she wasn’t held up too late on a normal day. Ah, some actually decent childhood memories.

40. (name one of your favorite books from your teenage years) SvtHA.

41. (do you own a library card? How often do you use it?) Yeah, and decently often.

42. (which was the best book you had to read in school?) The Outsiders. In 7th grade.

43. (are you the kind of person who reads several books at once or the kind of person who can only read one book at a time?) Multiple at once. I kind of have to if I want to read for fun while I’m in school.

44. (do you like to listen to music when you read?) Honestly, my mind is like an iPod I can’t fully control, I was laying in my bed half asleep singing What I Got yesterday morning for no reason, so I don’t have a choice. There’s more of a choice if I’m listening to music, so yes.

45. (what is your favorite thing to eat when you read?) Nothing? I don’t really like to eat when I’m reading, unless I’m reading on my phone and then it doesn’t really matter. But when I'm reading I usually forget to eat.

46. (what is your favorite thing to drink when you read?) Tea. Without a doubt. If I’m not too lazy to make it, that is.

47. (what do you do to get out of a reading slump?) Well, I do one of two things. I either try to convince Kass (@eyeforaneye-toothforatooth) to write something for me, or I’ll write (because I know I have to read over it a bajillion times, and I write too much for anyone’s good)

48. (where is your favorite place to read?) In my mind palace. I have a little place in my mind palace that I go when I’m reading or writing, and it changes. Sometimes it’s in a cottage at night with the only light a fireplace that I’m sitting in front of, sometimes it’s leaned against a tree. Three of my favorites are leaning against a cherry blossom tree looking out at a river, on a beanbag in a cozy, quiet bookshop/library, and on a beach in Roatan, Honduras. Other than that, it’s curled up on my UFO couch in my front living room, in front of the gigantic window.

49. (when is your favorite time to read?) It actually depends on the season. In the summer, always because I don’t want to go outside because it’s too hot. In the winter it’s during the evening. Spring it’s early in the morning. Fall it’s around sunset.

50. (why do you love to read?) Because you’re taking yourself and delving into a different universe, where nothing you know exists and only what you’re reading does. It takes me away from the world and all of my struggles, and puts me somewhere where that doesn’t exist. It’s refreshing. I hate you too

[fontasticcrablettes]

How I Use Scrivener

Wrote this up for a friend, figured I’d post here in case it helps anyone else!

If you haven’t heard of it, Scrivener is a writing program that’s great for organizing long works.  It’s what I use to write anything that has more than one chapter.  It has a tonne of features, and honestly I don’t even use half of them.  This is how I use it to write though. 

Ok, so this is basically what the interface looks like:

You write in the middle.  Documents and files are stored in the left, and the window on the right is for toggling things within the scene, jotting down notes, and some other cool things.  Lots of things.  Let’s break this shit down:

First: how to just write shit without worrying about all the neat features.  When you first start Scrivener, go to New Project and get a box like this:

This is showing you all the templates you can choose from.  I have a personal template that’s set up for how I use it.  I’ve never used the non-fiction or scriptwriting ones (Like I said, I haven’t used half the features this baby has).  It doesn’t really matter which one you use because you can change it all later anyway.  If you aren’t sure, just go for blank.

Select blank, type your project name and where to save it, and then click create. (Tip: The project will create an entire folder with sub-documents.  I like to make a folder for each project, and then put the scrivener folder in that folder, because you can’t import images that are already in the scrivener folder.)  You’ll get this screen:

You can just start writing here.  I’ll show you how I organize it though.  

I like to make one folder for each chapter.  Then, each scene gets its own page.  You can create a new folder by click on the arrow next to the big green plus sign.

If you just click on the plus sign, it will create a new document.  You can also change folders to documents and vice versa by right-clicking on them later.  Create a document for each scene - basically, anywhere you’d put a page break, create a new document.  They line up in order in all your folders like this:

I name the folders with the chapter title.  You can either name you individual scenes (i.e., “Yuri goes to the store”) or let it auto-generate a title from the first sentence of the scene.  This is what I usually do.  Or, if you write out of order, you could create place-holder scenes and title them with what generally will happen there once you write it.

The cool thing about this is that you can move these scenes around easily. If, for example, you decide to end a chapter earlier and want to move the last scene to the start of the next one, just click and drag it into position.  

Click and drag and hover over another scene (rather than between them) to nest your document within another one.  This lets you use documents as folders of their own.  I usually use this for notes rather than the manuscript itself (like, one page outlining a city, and then sub-documents for neighbourhoods within it).  

At any time while writing, your entire list of scenes and chapters is available at the side.  Need to double-check what someone said five chapters ago?  Easily find the exact scene you need to re-read by finding it in the list rather than scrolling up through thousands of words in one big document.  

I like to colour-code my scenes my point of view.  Yuri is black, Flynn is blue, Estelle is pink, etc.  You can do this over on the right window, in this box:

When you open a blank project, the top box there won’t say Point of View.  It just says Label and will have different coloured boxes.  Click the arrow and then hit “Edit...” to get to this box

Change the title of the label and create custom colour labels here.  You don’t have to use this for Point of View; it’s just what works best for me.

Then, to get the colour to show up in the binder (the right bar where all your folders are listed, hit F6.  That will toggle the little doc icon being coloured. F5 will toggle the colour appearing over the entire title, like this:

The Status box is for giving docs stamps - things like “DONE” or “TO DO”.  It’s mostly useful in the corkboard view.  

The Document Notes box is where you can write things down that pertain to just that scene.  I use it to jot down a list of information that needs to be delivered in a conversation, for example, or I stick sentences I’m moving around over there until I find a better place for them.  Use the arrows at the far right side to switch to Project Notes, which is like that but for the entire project and will be the same in every document.  

The index card at the top is where you can write a summary of the scene if you need a reminder, or if you haven’t written it yet.  

The camera icon takes you to the snapshots.  This is for if you’re going to make some edits but you aren’t 100% confident in them.  Take a snapshot before you start and it will save the document as it is.  At any time, you can go back and check your previous version of the document and use Roll Back to bring it back again.  There’s a little folded corner icon on any document that has snapshots. 

I never use the other tabs in the inspector here.  I think they’re mostly for non-fiction writing (References, footnotes, meta data, etc).  And hit the I at the top to toggle the inspector open or closed. 

“Include in Compile” and related check boxes are for when you’re compiling everything into one document at the end.  Don’t worry about this for fanfiction; I find it easier to just copy and paste from scrivener.  

Moving on from writing, you can also keep all your research and reference notes within Scrivener so that they are easy to refer to while-writing.  I put mine in the Research folder.

You can create documents to write things up just as you would in the Draft folder, or import image files, pdfs, even entire web pages.  

Something I like to do is create a calendar.  It makes it easier to keep track of the passage of time in long fics.  Create a regular document, then insert a table with 7 columns and 4/5 rows.  It can be as elaborate as you want.  Right click on the document within the binder and go to “Change icon...” to make it stand out.  

I usually don’t use the Characters or World folders for fanfic, but for original stories that’s where I put all my worldbuilding notes, character profiles, histories, etc.  

These three buttons at the top control the mode you’re in.  The place document is just writing mode.  That’s the default.  Then there’s Corkboard mode, which is how I often do outlining.  Create a new folder outside of the Manuscrupt, label it “Outline” (and change the icon if you want), and then create a document for each point on your outline.  If you’re in Corkboard view, creating a new document will create a new index card (which turns into a document if you go back to Editor view).   

This is where those Status labels I mentioned earlier come in.  I mark a thing Done on the outline to check it off.  The cool thing about it is that all documents are automatically index cards.  Here’s my draft showing all the folders as individual index cards:

If I move cards around on the corkboard, they automatically move around in the binder as well.  So I could spread out my entire story, scene by scene, on index cards and stamp them with completeness, label the PoV character, and summaries of the contents, and then shuffle them around right here.

The last mode is Outline mode.  I’m more of a visual person so I don’t use this as much.  I just use it to show me how many words a chapter has because it’s the quickest way to get that info. 

You can toggle what columns you want visible on this screen.  Total Word Count isn’t there by default; you have to tell it to show that. 

Other cool things:

The built-in Name Generator found under Tools

Go to Tools > Options to change the fonts, colours, sizes, appearances etc.

Press F11 (this button)

To enter fullscreen mode.  You can change the appearance of this under Options but it lets you write in a customized fullscreen view to help concentration.

Press ctrl+shift+’ to enter split screen view.  This lets you write in one window and have reference material (or another scene) open in another. ctrl+’ takes you back to one screen.  

The last important thing is Typewriter scrolling.  This makes it so that when you hit enter, the lines shift up and keep your writing centred on the page.  You never hit the bottom of the screen, you never have to scroll up to re-centre yourself.  It’s great.  I only turn it off if I’m editing because then if you fix a type near the bottom of the page it snaps that to the middle and can be annoying.  I always forget how to turn this on but here it is:

Honestly this is just an overview of the most important features to me.  This program is huge.  I’ve been using it for almost 10 years and I’m still discovering new things about it (maybe because I am a person who never reads manuals and just figures shit out as it comes up but shhhh).  I love it a lot and feel free to ask me how to do a thing because I can’t write without it now.  

[to0-many-blogs-blog]

How to Study: Visual Learner Edition

I’m a visual learner and, while my school year is coming to an end, I hope these tips I use will help you guys!

Have many diagrams!! These help you visualise your information

Timelines when working with a lot of dates or times

examples of classes: history and science

Charts or graphs when you have a lot of numbers

examples of classes: maths and science

Mind maps can be used when there are a lot of ideas surrounding a topic. 

They’re able to be used for pretty much all classes!

Print illustrations and drawings relevant to your topic!! Or, if you don’t want to draw them, you can print graphs. These help draw your interest into the topic and can be easier to understand than a block of text! 

Use contrasting colours, different fonts, different sizes, bold, underlining, and italics to make things really stand out!! 

A main colour (such as black) for the bulk of your information

A secondary colour (purple, blue, anything really!) for titles, subheadings, or diagrams

Cursive, block, bubble, fancy!! fonts!! for titles and subheadings

Make your titles and subheadings BIG

Underline, bold, and/or italicize important words, phrases, and sentences!

Colour code your information

Do you find yourself using one colour when highlighting and then not being able to find relevant information when re-reading? Give your highlighters specific purposes to avoid this!

This is the system I use!

Orange for titles/subheadings

Yellow for words, phrases, and sentences

Green for dates

Blue for names, places, and events

Purple for any vocab

Pink for miscellaneous things

Study in a place away from any and all distractions!!

Watch videos relevant to your topic and take notes

Replace words with symbols

Use steps, numbering, and dot points whenever you can! This really helps to simplify your information

Have and use flash/index cards all the time!

Take! Regular! Breaks!

That’s all I can think of, for now, let me know if you want more!!

[diamond-song42]

Card Shark 50: Starlight Glimmer, Taking Charge

Happy, happy 50th Card Shark, everycreature! Thanks for hanging with me on this wild trip through the MLP:CCG. As promised, I am focusing this Shark on one of my favorite Ultra Rares of all time - it needs more love than it gets. Here’s my take on Defenders of Equestria’s “Starlight Glimmer, Taking Charge!”

Glimmy-Glammy gonna fuck you up. When I first saw the announcement for this card, I wasn’t amused. I mean, 8 AT for one Friend?! When you can hypothetically get the same power for less AT?! But then we see one of the things that really makes her stand out, and that is Redeem. Only three cards have it, and it’s pretty strong: If you want to play this card, and you have a Friend or Troublemaker in play with the same title as the Redeem card (in this case, possibly Starlight Glimmer, Exposed Inequality or Starlight Glimmer, Magic Instructor), you can retire that Friend or Troublemaker to reduce the Redeem card’s cost by 3 AT (color req remains unchanged). Thus 8 AT can go to 5 AT, and that’s much more affordable. Glimmy also has Prepared, meaning you get an AT when your opponent starts a Faceoff at her Problem. And then we come to the biggest ability: At the start of your turn, you can play a Friend from your hand without paying any AT (like Redeem, color req still applies). This. Is. Epic. As I like to say, every AT matters, and if you can knock an expensive Friend out for free, you can set yourself up to do a lot more things. Play another Redeem Friend, or maybe a Friend with an entry ability that you’d like to activate sooner than later. And this isn’t even taking into account the 5 base power on this thing! If you like Problems with smaller confrontation requirements, like Searching High and Low or Concerning Cutie Mark, she can confront them without help from anycreature. Not to mention how badass this thing looks when you see how holographic she is. Guys, I love this card so much. What could be so bad about it?

Well, a few things could be so bad about it, actually. For one, if you don’t have a card to Redeem or a bunch of crazy AT-decreasing tricks set up, you are absolutely screwed in playing this card. You either have to dive into your Scrooge McDuck Money Bin and dig up that 8 AT or not play this card at all. The two other Redeem cards, Discord, Standing Up and Trixie, Above Average are both 7 AT, and 4 AT is much easier to procure than 5 AT. If anything, I think the expensiveness of this card is its primary Achilles’ heel. Glimmy might also be the hardest Redeem card to use Redeem with. Besides this card and her Mane Character, there are 9 cards you could potentially use Redeem on to play Taking Charge. Discord, on the other hand, has 16 possible choices to Redeem! Granted, Trixie also has 9 potential cards to Redeem, but since her Redeem cost is 1 AT less than Starlight, I still think she could be easier to play. (If someone has made a competitive deck using the Redeem keyword, please let me know!) Overall, though, I’m still a huge fan of this card, mainly because one of my favorite decks has quite a few ways to play this card for cheap. So I say if you have the deck space and the way to utilize Glimmy to her best, do it!

Here’s some of the cards I have up my sleeve to help me with this card:

*Cloudchaser, Flexible Flier/Apple Bloom, Re-Markable/Cloudchaser & Flitter, Filly Racers/any card that can reduce the cost of a card you play. I include every card that has this ability since this card is fairly versatile with what it can play for free. You can use these alongside a card to Redeem or just exhaust enough cards to reduce the cost a lot. It’s your choice - and I like versatile choices. :)

*Star Swirl’s Journal. This is my moneymaker when I play Taking Charge... or moneysaver, I should say. I usually play the Journal when I have Glimmy ready in my hand, so I banish her with the effect of this card. Then, once I get enough Study counters on it, Glimmy storms onto the field. The most AT I use with this trick is 1. Like with Redeem, you still have to take into account the color req to play Friends banished with the Journal, so watch out for that when you crack open this book.

*Redeeming Qualities. This is my backup card in case I can’t get Glimmy out with Star Swirl’s Journal. I try and fill my hand so I’m forced to discard a card. Then I play this card and stick Glimmy on the field for the low, low cost of 3 AT. If you’re playing White and Taking Charge, I highly recommend you make some room for this card. It can be a game-changer for both you and your opponent (though better for one player than the other).

Thanks for reading this special 50th installment of Card Shark! I hope you’ve enjoyed my first 50 analyses thus far. Now onto 50 more! I’m starting with Card Shark Week this Sunday, so stay tuned for 10 straight days of Sharks! Diamond out!

[two-us-two-ks]

You know, what the hell. I made a thing and it’s not going to be perfect but it’s finished. This can be read as bros being pals or as a pairing (if you squint). No warnings. Enjoy! * * * It wasn't that bad, Torey decided, to sit in a tiny, dimly lit room that was heated to around 200 degrees. Or 100, if you used Celsius, which Tuukka did. Sure, it was hot, but also somewhat humid, which made living just that much easier. Besides, was there a better smell than burning wood? So, yeah. This whole sauna thing was growing on him.

Usually Torey didn't bother thinking about giving gifts to his teammates during Christmas. He was more of a ”Give a card and text them on 25th” kind of guy. But somehow he had stumbled on a website of a small Finnish sauna thing located not too far from Boston, and... Well, that had escalated on him googling what the fuss was all about. Of course he had known something already, like the fact that it was way different experience than infrared saunas (at which Tuukka had sneered more than once and told everyone to not call them saunas), but that was pretty much it. Apparently it wasn't exaggeration to say that Finns loved the damn thing. It was actually very interesting. The more Torey had read on, the more sure he had become of the fact that he wanted to try it out. While it was debated if sitting in a hot room for an extended period of time was actually healthy or not, it was still a relaxing and purifying experience, or so they said. And who had he been to disagree? It sounded reasonable: give your muscles some warmth and you're bound to relax, sweat some and your body will get rid of all the dirt and grime it has acquired. At first Torey hadn't even thought about this having anything to do with Christmas, but oh had he been wrong. Apparently Christmas sauna was a thing. Just like Midsummer sauna, bachelor party sauna, Saturday sauna... It seemed that Finns were experts on making excuses to cram themselves in a small overheated wooden room, which was so absurd knowing how introverted and solitary they normally were. And now he was sitting on a wooden bench, listening to a crackling fire and his own breath. Tuukka had advised him to take a seat from a lower bench, the heat not being quite as relentless the lower you were. The Finn, of course, had climbed on the top bench as soon as they had come in. After the initial shock of being naked (and yes, it was different from a locker room, although somehow Tuukka didn't think so), Torey had finally dared to look at his teammate and friend, just to see how he reacted to this place. Tuukka looked like he was half asleep - or at least very relaxed. They hadn't been there for more than five minutes, not that Torey could really tell since there wasn't a clock to be seen. But the Finn already seemed like he had become one with the bench he was sitting on, a faint smile was plastered on his face, the lines of worry and frustration were completely gone. Torey had never seen him this content. A low chuckle startled him back to the current moment. "Is this an experiment?" Tuukka asked, still not opening his eyes. "See a Finn in his natural habitat?" "Something like that," Torey laughed. "Nah. Just wanted to know what this is all about. And didn't feel like trying it out alone, so..." "So you brought in an expert with you." "Exactly." Tuukka hummed at that and opened his eyes, grabbed the ladle and scooped some water from the bucket. Torey grimaced knowing what was about to come. "Oh, come on," Tuukka scoffed. "It's not that bad." "Not for you maybe." "You won't die." The Finn splashed the water on the stove, where it evaporated with a nasty hiss. Hot burst of air prickled Torey's skin and made breathing next to impossible for a few seconds. There was a gentle kick against his arm. "Remember to drink," Tuukka advised. "You'll feel better." It took Torey a moment to orientate himself again and another to remember where he had put his water. Tuukka was right though: drinking made him feel a little better. "Can I ask you something?" he asked after a while. "Sure." "I read a bunch of stuff about the whole thing and I get the basic gist of it. But it's all just factual without any opinions. So, what is this place to you? How does it feel?" It seemed to take Tuukka by surprise. He was quiet for a while, leaned back against the wall and stared at something, maybe the stove, maybe a memory. "It's..." The Finn sighed deeply. "Logically speaking, it's just a way to relax and clean your body. Not too different from a bath. But even for me it's much more than that. It's not just for your body, it's also for your soul. This is a place where you can just sit with your thoughts. Or without them. There's no need to be anything else than what you really are, no stupid stuff like titles or hierarchies or anything. Historically speaking, saunas were places where people were born, where they were healed, where they stayed after death until they could be buried. This is something that even I could call magical, even though I don't believe in stuff like that. Doesn't mean I want to anger the spirit." If Torey's question had surprised the Finn, this was something that left him raising his eyebrows. "What spirit?" Tuukka gave him a smile. "Every sauna has a spirit. It may have different names depending on the person talking about it: spirit of sauna, spirit of heat, sauna elf.. Whatever you want to call it, it's something that we all sort of believe in. And even if we don't, we won't take the risk of making it angry. You know, no speaking loudly, no swearing, being respectful to others and to the sauna. That kind of stuff." Had it been anyone else, Torey wouldn't have believed it. But it was Tuukka, probably the only person who didn't think The Garden was haunted (which it was, as far as he was concerned), and if he said something was real, Torey wouldn't question it even for a moment. "Hm, good to know," he managed to say. "I may not be the most spiritual person out there but if you won't risk it, I won't risk it." Tuukka grinned at that. "Good. You don't want to burn yourself on the stove or slip on the floor or anything." "It actually does that?" "I won't say it does, I won't say it doesn't. All I say is that accidents do happen, and sometimes they happen to people who don't respect the spirit." Ok, Torey definitely wasn't going to risk it. Silence fell between them as Tuukka threw some more water on the stove. Torey noticed he actually started to like this. It was still a lot hotter than he was used to and he was sweating like crazy, but it wasn’t the worst experience he’d ever had. He stretched a little, especially the muscles that were usually the most sore ones. It felt a lot easier now. A knot in the middle of his back that sometimes gave him a hard time finally settled, too. Torey drank some more water and then relaxed into the heat and silence. He started to think that perhaps Finns were not quite as crazy as people thought. Sure, at a first glance something like sauna felt odd and senseless, but he saw the appeal and the potential now. After a while Tuukka looked at him again. "You look like you're ready to go." "Yeah, I'll probably burn alive if I stay any longer." "Nah, you'll just dry too much. Take it easy on your way out. You'll feel a little dizzy at first." The Finn wasn't joking, Torey thought as he finally got on his feet. His limbs were like jelly. "Deep, calm breaths," Tuukka advised. "Don't move too fast." "I'll live, I think." He managed to get to the shower without getting hurt. The water felt cooler than it probably was, which was to be expected, but it felt heavenly against his skin. And speaking of that, Torey could see the old skin and dirt and sweat on him, before it was washed away. Purifying experience, indeed. He was sure he weighed less now. After a proper clean up Torey dried himself up and got dressed. Tuukka followed suit not long after him, and for a while they just sat in silence re-hydrating themselves. Torey felt Tuukka lean his head against his. "Thank you." The Finn's voice was quiet and borderline bashful. "Of course." "If you ever want to visit here again, make sure you call me." "Wouldn't have it any other way, to be honest. I'd probably end up dead." Tuukka laughed and ruffled his hair as he leaned back again. "Probably. Give me your keys. I'll drive us back to Boston."