#i think a dare program is this american thing where they make kids dare to stand up for themself by saying no to drugs

[schnitzelsemmerl]

alexander hamilton should be in the dare program ok send post

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 24 - Up Where We Belong

IN THIS CHAPTER: Graduation gowns, strawberry milkshakes, and Wayne asks a question [9.9k]

WARNINGS: dealing with grief (nancy, dottie, eddie to a less extent), writer not knowing how graduations are in the us

A/N: happy new year!!!! i hope everyone is having a wonderful start of 2024, here's your belated christmas gift from yours truly. if you read this and think "that's not how that works", then i don't know what to tell you bestie but i tried. i watched a TON of graduation ceremonies on youtube and i pulled heavily from those, aside from borrowing things from my own not-american graduation. i hope you enjoy it anyways! (and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!) <3

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All we have is here and now All our life, out there to find

Friday, June 13th - 1986

Wayne Munson had walked the halls of Hawkins High School several times throughout recent years courtesy of his nephew’s misbehaving, but never making it past Principal Higgins’ office was turning out to be a problem. Resigned, he stomped on his cigarette gently before following a family that looked like they knew where they were going, regretting not taking up Eddie’s offer to escort him inside before he disappeared in search of his friends and fellow graduates. Graduation. Ain’t that a funny thing to think about, Wayne mused. The auditorium, he noted as he finally found it, was decorated in bright orange and calming forest green, a Class of 1986 paper banner hanging from the dark curtain that was doing its job as an unassuming background at the very back of the room. On the stage, there was a regal-looking wooden lectern, and a small table with stacked up rolls of paper tied with orange and green ribbons; next to it, a bunch of black chairs where teachers would probably be sitting during the event had been carefully lined up into a single row.

Excitement filled the air. It was in the murmurs of the people taking their seats, skimming their programs to proudly find the names of their kids printed on the semi-matte paper. It was in the way the school’s faculty could not stand still, barely having time to say hello to everyone walking in before they were off to check yet another little detail so everything could go as smoothly as possible. Wayne walked down the central aisle trying to find a good spot to sit in while feeling a bead of sweat go down his back. The last time he’d worn a suit, any suit, had been to his mother’s funeral eight years before; in fact, he still only owned that one suit. The temperature in Hawkins was steadily rising as June turned into July, and Wayne felt incredibly stuffy in his clothes but he didn’t dare wear anything less for such a special day. Eddie had defied all odds and was now a High School Graduate, the first Munson to walk to stage in three generations. Truth be told, his Uncle was willing to bet that he was actually the first one to do so in their entire family history, and thus, Wayne wore the suit, and the shirt, and the tie, and searched for a seat near the front to witness his nephew doing the exact opposite of what the whole town had always expected him to do: succeed.

Bianca, Donny’s mom, was fussing over her youngest grandson, Francesco, when she saw Wayne looking a little lost in the crowd and waved at him to wordlessly invite him to sit with them. The eldest Munson approached them with a smile, settling himself on the row behind the Vitale family who was so very busy trying to keep little Francesco and his (barely) older cousin Marco from running down the aisles and bothering other families.

“Good to see y’all made it,” Wayne commented, shaking Donny’s dad Angelo’s hand before turning to Vittoria, Donny’s heavily pregnant older sister. “Though I coulda sworn I heard you were on bed rest, missy.”

“I am, but what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she laughed, hand resting over her swollen belly. “This little lady hasn’t stopped kicking me all day, I think she’s more excited than I am to finally be outside the house!”

“It’s a special day, I’m sure the doctor won’t mind too much as long as we take it slow,” her husband said, kissing the side of her head. “Say hi to Mr. Munson, Marco.”

“Hi!” the little boy said, standing between his parents’ seats. “Whose Grandpa are you?”

“Marco!” his dad exclaimed, but Wayne laughed loudly.

“That’s not a grandpa, you dummy! That’s Eddie’s dad,” said Francesco, before grabbing his cousin’s hand and leading him towards Nonna Giulia down the row in search of the candy she always kept in her purse.

“I’m sorry,” Vittoria said with an apologetic smile. “They read this picture book about families at pre-school and now he thinks all men with white hair are grandpas.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I know I’m not gettin’ any younger,” Wayne joked, his eyes straying to the side of the auditorium where the seniors were finally getting ushered into formation.

The Vitale family craned their necks to see their boy, and Wayne in turn searched for his: Eddie was standing near Jeff towards the middle of the line, the two of them engaged in conversation as they waited for everyone to get into their respective places. It wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying; he was clearly answering back and keeping the chat going, but it seemed to his Uncle that he was searching for someone in the crowd, eyes scanning rows of unknown family members for a face he hadn’t yet found. Wayne was about to lift his hand to let him know where he was sitting, but it soon became apparent that Eddie hadn’t been looking for him - he had been looking for the short haired girl who had just ran into the auditorium with a panicked look on her face and an askew cap on her head.

Dottie hurried over to where her classmates were standing, enveloping a curly haired girl Wayne wasn’t familiar with at the very back of the line in an enthusiastic hug before doing the same with Donny. Wayne saw with an amused smile how Eddie waited patiently for his turn while she hugged Jeff, and how all his anxiety looked like it was melting away as he embraced her, eyes closed and face buried in her hair. After saying their hellos, Dottie kept walking to the front of the line where she greeted a strawberry blonde girl with excited hops and shared an equally loving hug with both her and Gareth. Her dad watched her with a fond smile from his place near the doors, a program held tightly in his hands. Taking pity on the poor man who Wayne knew was attending the event alone much like he was, he motioned for James to join their mismatched group who gladly took the offer, walking briskly towards the still empty seat next to Eddie’s uncle. James greeted Donny’s family before getting comfortable on his wooden chair and let a long breath out. Finally.

“Long morning?” Wayne asked, knowingly.

“Be grateful you don’t have a teenage girl in your house, Wayne. It was near impossible to get here on time,” James scoffed.

“Can’t be worse than Ed’s allergy to his damn alarm clock. It went off for a whole 15 minutes before he got up today.”

“Did it wake you up?”

“Nah. Was already up reading the paper but I wasn’t about to turn it off for him. He just rolls over and keeps sleeping if I do,” he said, and James shook his head with an affectionate smile on his face.

“Teenagers, right?”

“Yup. Teenagers.”

Over the few short months Wayne and James had known each other, they had learned to appreciate the quiet but hard work the other did for their respective kid. It wasn’t easy to be a single father, and even though Wayne wasn’t Eddie’s biological dad, there was no doubt in James’ mind that he fulfilled that role wonderfully in the boy’s life and heart. The Munsons and the Burkes had gone through a lot over the years, that much was undeniable, but on that hot Friday morning both fathers could be proud that their kids had made it to the other side relatively unharmed, all the while somehow finding each other to rely on along the way. If Dottie and Eddie were going to be inseparable all summer as they had been since the day they met, it was only fair James and Wayne got to compare notes on parenting and commiserate over the little annoying things they’d miss once the kids had left the comforting safety of their family homes.

Before they could continue their talk however, teachers began herding the seniors into a neat single file and getting into their places on the stage, Principal Higgins taking his spot behind the lectern. Excitement amplified as the crowd hushed - only suppressed coughs and a few little children’s voices could be heard in the quiet room. Wayne saw Higgins approach the mic and took a deep breath letting the pride he’d been feeling all morning take over him. The heat of the almost-here summer was forgotten outside in the parking lot, along with his smushed cigarette butt and the heavy weight he’d been carrying since a CPS agent left a scared 8-year-old Eddie on his doorstep all those years ago.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Hawkins High School Principal Thomas Higgins,” the man began, voice booming across the room with the aid of loudspeakers; Dorothy peered at him over the shoulder of the taller girl standing in front of her. “On behalf of the faculty, staff, and administration of Hawkins High, we’d like to welcome family and friends, and most importantly, to our seniors to the Commencement Exercises of the Graduating Class of 1986.”

Higgins paused for effect and the crowd followed his cue by breaking into happy applause - the aforementioned seniors gleefully waved to the few family members they could find within the sea of heads straining to look at them. The Class of ‘86 stood patiently to the side towards the back of the auditorium, waiting to be called into the main aisle where their names would be announced one by one and they’d go up the stage, accept their diploma, and go back downstairs to the rows of chairs at the front left that had been reserved for them. The full graduating class was small, no more than 40 students, and Dottie wondered how different things would have been for her if she were graduating with her New York classmates in a year that comprised around 400 kids instead of doing it in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Please, rise from your seats and join us in singing the National Anthem, followed by the Hawkins High School Spirit Song,” Higgins announced, and the sound of creaking wooden chairs filled the air as everyone followed his request.

Dottie sang along to the National Anthem without thinking too much about it, but when the first notes of the Hawkins High school song came through the speakers, she realized she had no idea what the lyrics were. No one had told her they’d be singing it during their only rehearsal, and certainly no one had spared a moment to teach it to her in the last six months. She wasn’t even sure she knew a spirit song even existed before that very moment. Eyes surveying over the crowd of family members, she saw that most if not all were singing along - the only ones not joining in were probably those who hadn’t attended Hawkins High and lived in a different town, perhaps even in a different state altogether. Heat rising up her chest under her dark green gown, she turned her head to the front, feeling very much like an outsider amongst her peers for the first time in months. Bryan Butler right behind her sang louder as the song was ending and she tried to not call attention to herself to let him take the spotlight. Once the music stopped, Principal Higgins neared the lectern to continue his speech.

“Thank you, you may be seated now,” Higgins said, and the wooden creaking resumed for a second as everyone sat back down to watch the rest of the ceremony. “The Hawkins High School Class of 1986 has experienced many memorable moments over the last four years, and Hawkins is proud of how these young graduates have worked and persevered through hard times to get to this day. We as faculty could not be prouder or more thrilled to celebrate with them, and we look forward to sending them off onto the next chapter in their lives. Parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and other family members, we are honored to have you here today as our guests to celebrate our graduates and we thank you for your support. Please clap along as the Class of 1986 proceeds to their places.”

The speakers began playing Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 in D and the crowd broke into fervent applause once more, Michael Allen leading the way for his fellow seniors to stand in the central aisle right below the middle set of stairs where they’d wait to be called to the stage. As they fell into their designated spots, Dottie finally recognized who had been assigned to stand right in front of her; it was Robin Buckley, the shy band nerd she had met at Family Video a few weeks earlier and briefly bonded with over their shared love of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was wearing white Converse sneakers with little drawings in blue and black ink, and the edges of her black rolled up jeans could be seen poking below her gown. She’s so cool, Dottie thought, not knowing that Robin was desperately trying not to scan the audience lest her nerves paralyzed her. Not even painting her nails bright orange had saved them from being chewed on this time around.

“Hawkins High School’s Class of 1986 was given the opportunity to choose a member of our staff to read their names as they cross the stage today,” Principal Higgins explained as three people already on stage stood from their seats. “I am honored to announce that this year, our Assistant Principal Mrs. Elaine Chandler will present the diplomas to our newest graduates. Mrs. Suzanne O’Donnell, Mr. Leopold Hauser, and myself will present them with their diploma cover, graduation medallions, and honor cords if applicable. Elaine?” he motioned for her to switch places with him.

“Thank you, Principal Higgins,” said Assistant Principal Elaine Chandler, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she looked down the list of names in front of her. “Allen, Michael,” she called first from behind the lectern, and the crowd clapped as Michael went up to her and received a hug and a rolled up certificate before moving down the stage towards the other teachers to shake their hands.

Dottie’s palms began sweating as more names kept being called and her time as a Hawkins High student slowly came to an end. Even though she had felt very much like an intruder looking in through a window during her first few months in the town, she had to admit that was happy here now - certainly much more happier than she’d ever been back in New York. Here all the teachers knew her name without having to read it from a file. Here she had a group of friends she’d go to literal Hell and back for, and she had a boyfriend who loved her the way she’d always thought love should be: easy and gentle. Here she had attended the best prom of her life, and her face would be permanently attached to a club that had given her the safety she’d never gotten anywhere else to finally, truthfully, be herself. Here Dottie had been at home.

While Barnes, Kathleen was getting her extracurricular honor cords for being part of the cheerleading team, Mrs. Chandler called upon Buckley, Robin and Dottie suddenly found herself at the front of the line. Robin climbed the steps with as much grace as she could muster while being pretty much mortified, and Mrs. Chandler soothed her with friendly pats on her back before presenting her with her diploma. The tall girl accepted it with shaky hands, her rings glinting under the stage lights, when a loud cheer rang above the polite applause of the crowd. Robin laughed, half embarrassed and half grateful, and when Dottie turned to see where the sounds were coming from, she found not only Dustin and Erica hooting and hollering besides a couple who were clearly Robin’s parents, but also that Steve guy that worked at Family Video with her, the one that Robin had described as her strictly platonic best friend with a capital P. It looked like retail did bond you forever after all.

Mr. and Mrs. Buckley looked between confused and amused as Steve pinched his bottom lip and let out a loud whistle - a chortle escaped Robin’s mouth while a cheerful Mr. Hauser, who had been her favorite teacher all four years of high school, put her graduation medallion around her neck, nerves all but forgotten before she skipped her way down to Mrs. O’Donnell to receive her extracurricular honor cords for being in band. Huh, that’s curious, Dottie thought distractedly. Didn’t know Dustin and Erica were such good friends with her and Steve. I wonder how they met.

“Burke, Dorothy,” called Mrs. Chandler through the speakers, jostling Dottie out of her musings.

This was it. The moment of truth. Dottie climbed the stairs and accepted a hug from Mrs. Chandler, hearing her friends cheering for her loudly in the background when her damp fingers came into contact with her diploma. She glanced at the crowd and time seemed to stop when her eyes found her Dad, a proud smile on his face and his program tucked under his armpit so he could clap loudly for his daughter. She waved at him and Wayne, who had also stood up to cheer for her, and time resumed after a blinding flash went off and she was whisked along to where the rest of the teachers were standing. She shook hands with both Principal Higgins and Mr. Hauser even though she hardly knew both men, and accepted her diploma cover and her graduation medallion before turning towards Mrs. O’Donnell. She was about to hug her teacher when the old woman presented her with her own honor cords, entwined green and orange ending in delicate tassels dangling from her manicured hands.

“That’s not- I’m not-” Dottie began.

“You have one of the highest GPAs in your year, besides being involved in two extracurriculars. Congratulations, Miss Burke. You’ve earned this,” O’Donnell said, and it was perhaps the only time in the whole semester Dottie had seen her genuinely smile.

“T-thank you,” she managed to get out, letting the woman drape the cords on her shoulders and rushing to her seat before she began bawling on stage.

“Hey, congrats!” Robin whispered once they were both seated next to each other, shaking her own cords lightly. The ceremony continued with no regards to their little chat.

“You too! Didn’t know I had qualified for any of this, I think everyone saw me have an aneurism up there.”

“Nah, everyone’s too nervous about not tripping down the stairs on their way back, don’t worry about it.”

“Coleman, Gareth,” Mrs. Chandler announced, grabbing Dottie’s attention.

Carver, Jason hadn’t even reached the sidestage stairs to go down after accepting his diploma when Gareth, in his haste to get everything over with, tried to climb two steps at a time and got his feet tangled in his dark green gown. Cunningham, Chrissy, who was right behind him, quickly caught his arm before he could lose balance and hit the floor. He quietly thanked her with red cheeks and embarrassed eyes before he finally went up the stairs, one step at a time. Chrissy went back to the front of the line while other classmates around Dottie and Robin snickered at the little mishap; Gareth accepted his diploma and other paraphernalia, and got the hell off the stage as quickly as humanly possible.

“Thank God that wasn’t me,” Robin muttered, and Dottie grimaced in agreement.

Gareth ended up awkwardly sitting between Jason and Chrissy, but much to his relief, they had all been assigned to the row behind Dottie. Taking advantage of the proximity, he leaned forward to talk to his friend as the ceremony progressed and Chrissy quickly joined, stopping to give Dottie a kiss on her cheek from her seat behind her as a second greeting. Jason watched the scene unfold and asked himself when had his girlfriend started hanging out with people he didn’t know. He thought he knew everything about Chrissy - when had that changed and to what extent? Selfishly, he couldn’t help but think about what the future would look like for them when they left for college. Chrissy was headed to OSU and he would be at Indiana State, almost four hours and more than 250 miles between them. Would this be their last summer together? He didn’t like to entertain that thought.

Davis, Monica, Foster, Kyle, and Hanson, Randall were some of the names they didn’t pay much attention to until Humphrey, Andrew was called to the stage. Jason distracted himself from his anxiety over his relationship possibly having an expiration date by clapping loudly for his best friend. Dottie and Gareth shared a mischievous look: Andy wasn’t wearing any bandages on his nose anymore, but the dark purple shadow under his eye was still very visible with the bright stage lights illuminating his face. After him came Hurley, Marcie, one of Dot’s colleagues from the newspaper club, and Kemper, Lucy, the girl who had sold almost everyone their prom tickets. Morgan, Theresa was on stage when Dottie realized she knew almost all the people in her graduating class by name now, even if they had never spoken to one another before. In New York, she’d never known the names of all the people within a single class, not since elementary school at least. She wondered if they remembered her, but then decided she didn’t care that the answer was probably a resounding no.

When Munson, Edward was called to the stage, Dottie and Gareth stood up to make as much noise as possible, both infinitely proud of the long haired boy with the charming eyes who was accepting the one piece of paper that had seemed so elusive all this time. Dustin and Erica hollered at him, and the rest of the Hellfire Club, still in line waiting to accept their diplomas, joined them in their antics. When Principal Higgins went in for a handshake, Eddie pulled him into a hug; the older man laughed and let it happen, a sort of fondness for the metalhead’s unwavering resilience present in their interaction. He accepted his medallion and his own honor cords for being the Chapter Leader of a student organization, and just before he climbed off, he approached the edge of the stage with a dazzling grin.

“Here it comes,” Dottie muttered, anticipating her boyfriend to give the middle finger to the entire town and bolt as he had declared he’d do on multiple occasions.

What Eddie did instead was find his Uncle in the crowd and bow deeply in his direction as people clapped for him like it was the end of a play. Wayne pretended to not be choking back tears as his nephew got off the stage, lips pursed behind his fingers trying to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face.

“Coward,” Gareth said, and Chrissy hit him in the shoulder.

There was no time for Eddie to do anything more but find his seat, because immediately after him came Patton, Jeffrey, and exactly ten names later, came Vitale, Donatello. The teachers laughed and cooed at his excited nephews jumping up and down the aisle, cheering for his favorite Uncle. One day in the not so distant future, they’d probably be handing them their diplomas too. Just how many faces in the crowd had walked through these same halls, attended the same classes, and some of them even had the same teachers as the Class of ‘86? A much younger and recently married O’Donnell, a Higgins as a History teacher prior to his Principal days, a Kaminski after his eldest son had just been born. Never before had the kids in the Hellfire Club felt as much part of the Hawkins High community as they did now - it almost felt unfair that they had to permanently leave the place to finally feel that way.

“And last, but certainly not least,” said Mrs. Chandler when there was only one person left to climb up the stage. “-Wheeler, Nancy, the valedictorian for the Class of 1986 who will say a few words for us and her fellow graduates after receiving her diploma.”

The crowd broke once again in loud applause as a red cheeked Nancy in her dark green gown and bright orange valedictorian stole greeted all her teachers with a few flashcards containing her speech in her hand. Karen Wheeler looked at her daughter with shiny eyes, infinitely proud of her little girl that’d grown into a smart, capable woman right in front of her. In a few months she’d be far away, following her dreams, and taking a piece of her mother’s hopes with her as she did so, but none of her fears. Holly raised her arms, silently asking to be lifted up so she could see better, and Karen picked up her youngest daughter, pointing at her big sister in the distance so she could wave at her. Nancy took her place behind the lectern and looked at the audience, a carefully put together mask over bittersweet eyes that Dottie had almost become used to seeing on her friend. If she stared into a mirror too deeply, she could recognize the dents in her skin of her own mask, now laying shattered at her feet.

“Honorable guests, Principal Higgins, Hawkins High School faculty, academic and supporting staff, friends, families, and graduates - good morning,”  Nancy began, voice soft but pleasantly clear. “It is with great pride that I stand here before you on such a special occasion to deliver this speech, which I promise I’ll try to keep short and sweet,” she lightheartedly smiled at her audience before she grew solemn once more. “However, before I start, I would like to ask you to join me in a moment of silence to commemorate the students and family members who could not be here today with us, and to remember the victims of the Starcourt Mall Fire on July 4th, 1985.”

Not a sound could be heard for a few heartbeats, and Dottie watched the faces of the town she’d come to love morph from amused to weary. There was real mourning here, a deep gash left open in a community that couldn’t heal properly because some wounds were just too deep to scab over. Eddie had told her everything he knew about what had happened, the official story everyone that hadn’t been involved in the tragedy repeated when asked, and her heart constricted when she saw Dustin and Erica in their seats with their heads down. They looked downright haunted. Steve sat next to them, watching over them with such turmoil in his eyes that Dottie had to wonder if there was something they were all missing about what happened. Had Steve also been in the mall with them? Had Robin, who was quietly sitting next to her like she was reliving a horror movie behind her eyes, her fingers absentmindedly tangling and untangling themselves in her honor cords?

Karen, sitting next to her unaware husband and emotionally closed off son, took a few deep breaths to keep her tears at bay and gently kissed Holly’s head before shifting her baby on her lap to hold her against her chest more tightly, like someone could snatch her off her arms at any given moment. Dottie twisted her mom’s engagement ring on her left middle finger and bit the inside of her cheek while blinking away the wetness gathering on her lash line. Not now, she scolded herself. Later.

“Thank you,” Nancy said, breaking the silence and moving onto her next flashcard. “Four years ago, we arrived at Hawkins High as children, and we are now leaving as young adults with our whole lives ahead of us. Some will go on to college, others will enter the workforce, but all of us will take the lessons learned here and let them guide us to become who we were always meant to be,” she turned to look to her side. “I'd like to thank our teachers for sharing their knowledge with us, for being patient and pushing us to achieve great things. With their help, our Hawkins High Mathletes reached their first ever state finals and brought home the silver medal earlier this year.”

There was a loud cheer coming from somewhere in the auditorium that sounded very much like Rick Stewart, exiting Captain of the Hawkins High Mathletes. Some people laughed goodnaturedly and joined in, the teachers clapping proudly at their labor being recognized. Nancy smiled and continued, knowing the applause would only get louder as she read the next part of her speech.

“I'd like to thank our coaches and counselors for making school more than just homework. You taught us about discipline, teamwork, and integrity, which led our basketball team to win the 1A North Central Conference Championship for the first time in 22 years,” the applause that followed was deafening, and it took several minutes for it to die down before Nancy could keep going. “I'd like to thank our families for supporting us in more ways that we could ever count, for chaperoning our dances and field trips, cheering for us at our sporting events, and attending all our plays with so much love and commitment, that our Drama Club was able to extend their winter run of West Side Story with a packed audience every night until their closure.”

The cheers this time were much more subdued, yet polite and sustained enough to not be embarrassing to the Drama Club members and their families in the audience. It was clear, however, where the town’s loyalties stood: Indiana’s love for basketball was known throughout the country, and Hawkins wasn’t the exception to the rule. Nancy looked at her graduating class and grabbed the last two flashcards in her pile.

“No one achieves success alone, and we are truly grateful for the help and guidance we’ve received during our years as Hawkins Tigers. However, if my classmates indulge me for a second, I’d like to ask each of you to think about a moment where you felt proud of yourself. Think about the things you’ve accomplished here, and the challenges you’ve overcome. A great woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote, you gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do. Our time as Hawkins High School students has come to an end. We did it, Class of ‘86. We did the thing we thought we couldn’t do, and we’ve learned that we can take the next thing that comes along, so keep moving forward. I’m proud of you, and I hope you are too. Thank you, and congratulations to us all.”

Dottie followed Nancy with her eyes as she shook Principal Higgins’ hand once more and left the stage towards her seat. Her hands were shaking lightly, and her lips were pursed, but she almost looked lighter, like she’d left significant weight behind that had nothing to do with public speaking related nerves. Nancy’s speech had been beautiful, there were no doubts about that, but it was strange to think about someone like her looking at her high school years as something that had been horrific to live through. She was popular enough to not have been bullied, pretty enough to have been desired and looked up to, smart and well-off enough to never have to worry about not fitting in.

High school was certainly hard for almost everyone, but the way Nancy had spoken about it left a familiar bitter taste in Dottie’s mouth. If Eddie had been right when retelling her the town’s recent strange happenings, Nancy had probably been thinking about her friend Barb when writing her speech. She would have most likely graduated alongside her, maybe she’d be headed to a nearby college where the two girls could still see each other often, or to a completely different one across the country and they’d have to call every weekend with updates on their new lives. Holland, Barbara should have been called up to the stage between Hall, Suzanne and Humphrey, Andrew, but now she was just another name added to the always-growing list of people who ought to have been there, but ultimately couldn’t be.

“Thank you for that inspiring speech, Miss Wheeler,” said Principal Higgins, returning to his place behind the lectern to close out the ceremony. “Graduating is an amazing achievement for these students, and we here at Hawkins High are excited to see the things they’ll accomplish in the future. By the authority vested in me by the Governor of the State of Indiana, Mr. Robert D. Orr, I confer the appropriate diplomas for the Class of 1986. Graduates, please move your tassels to the left,” he smiled at his now former students. “Congratulations Tigers, you can now throw your hats!”

As they had been instructed during rehearsals, they threw their hats directly above them, not wanting to lose them on the way down before they could take pictures with them but in the excitement and elation of the graduates, some caps ended up on the floor, prompting kids to search for the lost items under their chairs while their classmates cheered above them and congratulated one another. Dottie hugged Robin again while Principal Higgins said his goodbyes through the loudspeaker without anyone really hearing him, families eager to leave the auditorium and get into their cars quickly to avoid the inevitable bottleneck at the entrance of the parking lot.

“Thank you all for coming and being part of this special moment,” Higgins said, voice ringing above the loud chatter and scraping of chairs. “Please drive safe and have a good weekend!”

“Dad!” Dottie called upon seeing James talking to Gareth’s family near their cars. He waved at her in acknowledgment and she turned to her friend to say her goodbyes. “I’ll call you as soon as I have my new schedule down, okay? We can go to the movies some day!”

“I’m gonna go see family up North next week, but I’ll call you when I get back,” Chrissy said, arm still tangled with hers. “We have to go see the new Karate Kid coming out soon, Ralph Macchio is so cute.”

“I’m not even gonna correct you on that because I do wanna see it with you, but just know I think you’re crazy,” the brunette said, laughing at her friend.

“Well, excuse me, bad boys aren’t everyone’s type,” the blonde retorted, a secretive grin gracing her fairy-like features before she pulled her into a goodbye hug. “I’m gonna miss you!”

“We’ll see each other soon! You go have a great trip, forget about this boring town for a while.”

After the girls said their goodbyes and went in separate directions, Dottie watched Chrissy greet her family with curious eyes. She didn’t know much about the Cunninghams and was surprised to see that her newest and most unlikely friend had a little brother she had never mentioned before. He must have not been the right age to be in high school yet or he’d probably be under Jason’s overprotective wing, especially if he was athletic like his big sister.

Chrissy might have looked small and dainty, but there was a certain fierceness cheerleaders had in their step - their aura had been painstakingly trained to command a room and demand attention. And yet, Dottie noticed that as Chrissy turned from her unassuming Dad to her elegant Mother, the brightness she radiated seemed to dim ever so slightly, even if her charming smile stayed in place.

“There you are! I was looking for you everywhere,” James exclaimed, her thoughts instantly lost to the wind. “Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dottie melted into his hug, knocking her cap even more askew with his shoulder. “They gave me honor cords, did you see? I didn’t know I had earned them!”

“I’m seeing them now! You worked so hard, good job.”

“Congratulations, sweetie!” Lydia, Gareth’s mom, said, pulling her into a hug. “Have you met Gretchen yet? Gare’s big sister?”

“Hey, congrats,” Gretchen said with a polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, hi! It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Gretchen said, eyes sparkling with mischief as she saw Gareth approach with two more kids toddling behind him. “I’m always really curious to meet any girl who would even talk to my brother in the first place, but you seem normal enough.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Gareth said, and Erica snickered.

“Honestly, he’s lucky we’re nice to him,” the middle-grader joined in, making Gareth groan in annoyance.

“You’re my friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Congrats, Dot!” Dustin said, hugging the older girl from her right side, prompting Erica to cuddle up to her on the left. “We’re super proud of you.”

“Aw, Dus,” she pouted, leaning her head on his. He really was like the little brother she’d always wanted and never had. “Thank you, you’re so sweet. I’m happy you two could be here!”

“It was fun! We enjoyed it.”

“I saw you guys with that Steve guy earlier, did you come with him?”

“You know Steve?” Dustin said, curious.

“Yeah, he works at Family Video with Robin!” Dottie said.

“You know Robin?” it was Erica’s turn to ask.

“Uh, yeah, we’re classmates? She was sitting next to me throughout the ceremony- wait, how do you know them? What am I missing here?”

“Nothing! Steve’s, uh- Steve’s our babysitter!” Dustin hurried to say. “Did you know he used to date Nancy a while ago? That’s how we met, through Nancy. And we know Robin through Steve. Hawkins is a very small place.”

“W-what? Nancy and…”

“Yeah, she dumped him in front of everyone at a party and he’s been all mopey and sad since then,” Erica said, prompting Dustin to elbow her. “What? Just the facts!”

“Uh…,” Dottie looked at Gareth, dumbfounded.

“Anyway,” Dustin continued, aware that multiple eyes were on him. “He’s our babysitter.”

“Dustin, you’re fifteen,” Gareth laughed. “You’re a little old to still have a babysitter.”

“My Mom’s protective of me, okay? I’m an only child.”

“And he’s a good babysitter?” Dottie asked, amused.

“The best. Steve’s… yeah, Steve’s great. More like an older brother figure than a babysitter,” Dustin smiled, clearly fond of the older boy. “You should hang out with him, I think you’d like each other.”

“Stop. Just stop,” said Erica, knowing where Dustin was headed.

“What?” he shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, let’s take some pictures!” said Lydia, not having paid any attention to the kids’ conversation.

While they were in the middle of taking photos, the remaining Hellfire Class of ‘86 joined the group with their respective families. Eddie snuck up behind Dottie while she was distracted taking a picture with Jeff and picked her up, arms encircling her middle and spinning her around while she giggled unabashedly, hands coming to rest on his forearms when he put her down but didn’t let go. Wayne had to hide a chuckle while he talked to the other parents; his nephew really wasn’t as smooth and mysterious as he thought he was, and Wayne had been around the sun too many times to not recognize what he was seeing between Eddie and his little lady friend. Gretchen, in turn, looked at Donny and lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“What have I missed?” she quietly said, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. She’d always liked Donny the best out of all his brother’s friends, and was aware that as much of a good confidant as he was, he never shied away from gossip.

“He said he wanted to wait until after graduation to ask her out so I don’t think anything has happened yet,” Donny muttered back, crossing his arms and leaning closer to her friend’s big sister. “They’re totally gone for each other, though.”

“You don’t say,” Gretchen said and turned to Erica who looked very interested in their conversation. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s too chicken to ask her out,” Erica laughed. “But they have been looking really cozy lately. That’s suspicious.”

“Eddie knows she’s into him,” Donny said, making Erica’s eyes widen. “Forgot to tell you about that.”

“You bastard, I thought we had a good thing going and you’re withholding information from me? Nuh-uh, this is betrayal. I want reparations.”

“Oh, she’s feisty,” Gretchen said.

“Come to the restaurant this weekend, I’ll give you ice cream and we can catch up and compare notes,” Donny offered, genuinely interested in keeping his friendship with the fiery younger girl intact. “But it has to be this weekend, Dot starts working with us on Monday.”

“How big is that ice cream?”

“Big as you want.”

“Deal,” she put out her hand for them to shake on it, but it was merely a formality - Donatello Vitale had no intentions of ever crossing the one and only Erica Sinclair again.

As families began saying their goodbyes and heading to their cars, it soon became clear that Eddie and Dottie did not want the festivities to end so fast. They’d already taken multiple photos with everyone and with each other, waved Dustin and Erica off as they climbed into Steve’s red BMW, and even said hello to the Wheelers, but they would just not leave each other’s side, always fluttering around one another no matter what was happening. If James thought anything strange about it, he didn’t mention it, but as Wayne looked at his nephew’s beaming smile, he realized he didn’t have the heart to cut his happiness short when there was such an easy solution to their problem.

“You two have any plans for lunch?” Wayne asked James, finishing up another smoke.

“Not really, no. I was thinking of picking up some burgers to celebrate. Why? You have any suggestions?”

“Well, me an’ Eddie like to go to the diner down on Randolph on special occasions. Thought you might want to join us,” he smiled at the kids who were now both staring at him expectantly.

“Can we go, Dad?” Dottie asked with hopeful eyes. “They have crinkle fries - you love crinkle fries!”

“That’s really kind of you, Wayne, but we don’t want to intrude,” James was saying, but Eddie hurried forward.

“You wouldn’t be intruding, sir. We both graduated today, we can celebrate together!”

“Come on, Dad, they wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want us there.”

Both older men looked at each other with knowing eyes and James sighed theatrically before conceding, his daughter cheering happily at the new impromptu plans. The teens quickly headed in the direction of their cars deep in their own happy little world; their parents amusedly looked as Eddie opened her door for her and helped her in while they talked about burger combinations and debated about their orders.

“Meet you there?” James asked Wayne, also getting into his car.

“You bet. Come on, boy, quit the yappin’. You’ll see her again in ten minutes, she’s not gonna run away from you!”

“Jesus Christ, Wayne!”

Eddie and Dottie had already been to the diner down on Randolph a few times; some of them before they’d begun dating and once after, but never with their parental figures as unofficial chaperones. The booth at the back they loved to sit at was occupied, so they chose a table near the front instead - the diner was bustling with energy as multiple families had had the same idea as them and got a headstart on their kids’ summer holidays. Eddie helped Dottie with her chair, thoroughly enjoying how shy she’d get whenever he did something remotely gentleman-like, and plonked himself next to her, quickly engaging in conversation about the menu she was holding. James had no option but to sit in front of his daughter as Wayne took the seat in front of Eddie, both of them also busying themselves with their own menus.

The teens tried to act normal in front of their elders, they really did, but it was such a lovely day, and they were celebrating one of the biggest achievements in their short lives that it was as if they’d forgotten that friends didn’t usually look so smitten with one another. Wayne took little peeks at them over the bright laminated piece of paper in his hands, catching how Eddie was stroking the side of her arm resting on the table with his pinky finger while she talked; he loudly coughed when James put his menu down and took his reading glasses off, the unexpected sound making them jump and separate instantly just in time for him not to see them. A young and friendly looking waitress approached their table, pad of paper and pen in her hand.

“Hi! Are you ready for me to take your order or are we waiting for the wives to arrive?” she said with a perfect customer-service smile. Dottie blinked up at her twice, her face morphing into a blank expression.

“No, thank you, it’s just gonna be us four today,” James said politely.

Today, he’d said. Like Margaret and Maureen were off doing other things, like working or shopping or attending a jazzercise class, and couldn’t join them for lunch but they’d probably be around later. Like they weren’t gone forever. Like they were still alive. Nancy’s speech rattled around in Dottie’s brain, her eyes glazing over and her ears filling with invisible cotton. James and Wayne ordered their food, and Eddie ordered for both himself and her, very much aware that something was bothering her. Her sight was stuck to her Dad’s hand resting on the cheap laminate tabletop. The gold band that had been there on his finger since Margaret and him had said I do all those years ago taunted her, glinting under the fluorescent lights of the diner. They’d promised each other forever, and what did they get? What did she get?

“Dot,” Eddie muttered, hand sneaking down the table to settle on the exposed skin of her knee. “Darling, can you hear me?”

“Huh?” she turned to look at him in a daze.

Behind him, there was a table where a family sat: a father, a mother and a daughter, barely older than she’d been when she’d lost the most important woman in her life. The baby gurgled in her Mom’s arms, and the woman cooed at her, noses nuzzling against each other’s. Dottie turned her head towards the other side of the diner where a mother was cleaning up a little boy’s face, chocolate staining his chubby cheeks.

She had just graduated from high school and her mother wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there when she got her first period, during her first heartbreak, or when she won a spelling bee at age seven. She wouldn’t be there when she graduated college, when she got her first job, when she got married to the boy who was holding onto her leg with worried eyes. She would never be there, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. It was always going to be just them.

“Honey, are you okay?” James asked, leaning forward.

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed to get out before she stood up and bolted outside and into the parking lot, her chair scraping against the floor in her haste to get out of the diner.

“I’ve got it, sir,” Eddie said before he sped after her, his chains rattling with every long step he took to catch up with her.

In silence, James and Wayne watched their kids through the huge windows next to their table. When Dottie saw Eddie running behind her, she turned her back on him, hugging herself as she tried to keep her emotions together. She lifted a hand to wave at him over her shoulder and said something - probably that she was okay, that she didn’t need help so he should go back in - but as he came closer, it was evident that the storm that had been brewing inside her all morning was on the brink of overtaking her. All it took was feeling his hand hovering on her shoulder for her knees to buckle as she folded onto herself, Eddie instantly rushing forward to catch her and pulling her into his chest, her back rising up and down violently as she sobbed into his graduation gown. He chewed on his lower lip as he held himself together, never one to cry in public where people could see him and judge him for it. He muttered something into her hair, his chin resting onto the crown of her head, gently rocking her side to side as her sobs subsided.

“She was really lonely until we came here, y’know,” James said, breaking the quiet that had fallen on their table. Wayne could only look at his nephew, the gentleness he’d always known he’d possessed perfectly on display. “All her new friends are great to her but Eddie… you’ve got a good boy there, Wayne.”

“They’re both good kids,” Wayne said, matter-of-factly. “It’s a damn shame they’re so young and been through so much already.”

“Yeah, it is.”

In the parking lot, unaware that they were being watched, Dottie lifted her head from Eddie’s chest, an embarrassed smile on her lips as she fanned her face with her hands in an attempt to dry her tears without ruining what was left of her mascara. Eddie, still holding onto her, blew on her cheeks; she laughed, heart feeling equally heavy and light at the same time. There was joy and levity to be found in shared grief, that was something new she had learned from him.

“Sometimes I feel like Eddie understands her better than I do,” James admitted, fingers toying with his wedding band.

“They understand each other in ways that you and I never will,” Wayne mused. “That ain’t a bad thing. Actually, I think it might be healthy.”

“Mhm,” James agreed, half lost in his own thoughts.

Dottie squeezed Eddie one last time like she was mentally preparing herself, gathering strength for whatever came next, and nodded once to let him know that it was okay to let her go. Eddie followed her inside quietly, holding the door open for her as they filed in and sat once again at their table. They both looked very tired, and perhaps even a little bit flustered at having to face their guardians after bolting out of the diner so unexpectedly. Dottie leaned forward to grab a napkin to blow her nose.

“M’sorry,” she said, eyes low. James grabbed her hand gently.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. S’just a lot, you know?”

“I know,” her Dad said, watching her glance at Eddie next to her.

“Can I… is it okay if Eddie and I go to the lake after lunch?” she asked, shy. “We want to burn some cards.”

“Yeah, of course,” James said, knot tightening at the base of his throat and fingers tangling with his daughter’s.

Eddie was silent through the entire interaction, hands hellbent on shredding the paper napkin in front of him to minuscule pieces. Wayne could feel their table shake as he bounced his leg frantically, something he had long understood as his nephew’s tell when holding back tears. The waitress, unaware of what had just transpired, came back at that moment with their drinks and two milkshakes for the teens. Dottie smiled at them with wet eyes, and Eddie had the indecency to look sheepish: she hadn’t mentioned to him she wanted one, but he knew she loved strawberry milkshakes from this specific diner because they made them with real strawberry ice cream and not the powder. He must have ordered them when she blanked out. The simple gesture felt like balm for her anguished soul.

“Well, I’d like to propose a toast,” Wayne said, dissipating the remaining uncomfortable tension at their table. “To the Class of ‘86.”

“To the Class of ‘86,” James joined him, clicking their bottles of Coke together in the air.

Food arrived shortly after, and as an easy conversation sanded whatever edges were still sharp for the moment, Wayne observed the tender behavior of the kids sitting in front of him. It wasn’t as playful as it had been before, no, this felt much more… intimate. Considerate. Muted, yet still softhearted. Not missing a beat in the story she was telling to her Dad, Dottie grabbed the cherry on top of her milkshake and left it on top of Eddie’s. He gave her a toothy grin before popping it into his mouth, and she shook her head at him fondly. Yeah, this ain’t a bad thing at all, thought Wayne, taking a bite out of his food and laughing along with James at the ridiculous gossip Dottie and Eddie were sharing about their now former classmates.

“Okay, hold on a second before you run off,” Wayne said, as his nephew ushered his friend towards his van.

After lunch was done, it was decided that Wayne would drive Eddie and Dottie back to their trailer so they could get Eddie’s van and head to the lake for what they were calling The Card Ritual. The eldest Munson didn’t really understand what it meant, but it seemed that James knew what they were talking about so he didn’t ask too many questions about it - all he knew was that the kids were going to buy some cards at Melvald’s and then burn them, and that Dottie was emotional over the whole thing. If burning some paper brought peace to her heart, then who was Wayne to judge? He’d indulged in far more destructive coping mechanisms throughout his youth, evidenced by his unshakeable smoking habit.

After they’d said goodbye to James, they climbed into Wayne’s truck and headed to Forest Hills, graduation caps, gowns, and his suit jacket now discarded into the backseat. The heat kept rising in the early afternoon and Wayne just wanted to get out of his clothes, drink a glass of icy cold water, and take a nap in his undergarments next to his trusty fan, but he felt like there was a pressing conversation to be had before he went in and could finally relax on his day off.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, Dottie coming to a stop next to him.

“I just gotta know, kid,” Wayne turned to her. “Does your Dad know about you two or do I have to play dumb with him?”

“W-what? What do you mean?” she asked, nervously.

“I may not be young, but I ain’t blind, sweetheart,” he smiled. “You’re not in trouble, I just wanna know how to act around your old man, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t know,” Eddie muttered, grabbing Dottie’s hand and surprising her with how quickly he confessed. “No one knows, we haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Except Chrissy,” Dottie said.

“Except Chrissy,” he conceded. “She knows because I asked her for advice, but she’s the only one.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long has this been going on?” Wayne asked, pulling his lighter out of his pocket.

“Uh, like two weeks? We’re not, like- we’re not official yet,” Eddie scratched his neck uncomfortably.

“Not offi- Edward,” his Uncle hardened his stare. “I taught you better than that.”

“Shit, I swear I was gonna do it today! Wanted to wait until after graduation, I’m not trying to be a flake-”

“It’s okay! We talked about it,” Dottie said, hanging onto his arm. “I don’t mind waiting, we just thought it’d be best to keep it a secret for now,” Wayne turned to look at her, wary. “Mr. Wayne, please, I’d announce it at the next Town Hall meeting if he’d let me.”

“We share all the same friends,” Eddie explained. “They’ll wanna know all the details, and I just- she breaks up with me and I’m the biggest loser in Hawkins, you know how those assholes are.”

“Oh my god, stop calling yourself a loser!” she whined.

“Don’t break up with me, and I won’t be!” he argued back, but it was clear he was being silly about it.

“Okay, so what’s the situation here? You two dating or not?” Wayne asked, getting back on topic.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling down at her with hearts in his eyes. “We’re dating. I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend officially later today but I might as well do it now since you’re so nosy.”

“It’s not like anything’s changing anyways,” Dottie said. “We just didn’t put a label on it, but I’ve kinda been his girlfriend since that party we went to a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hell yeah you are. And I’m your boyfriend, right?”

“No, you’re my private driver,” she deadpanned. “Of course you are, Eddie, what kind of question is that?”

“Just making sure, darling,” Eddie said, and Wayne snorted at how smug his nephew looked.

“Well, then… you two can go now, I guess. I’ll keep the secret.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne,” Dottie said, coming to hug him. “We’ll tell people soon, we just want a little bit of privacy for now. The guys can be so nosy sometimes.”

“Don’t I know that, kid,” he chuckled. “I’m real happy for you two.”

“I’m really happy too,” she whispered to him, a bashful smile on her face.

Eddie finally let her into his van, her white sundress and summery sandals a stark contrast against his ripped jeans and chains. They were an odd couple if one only looked at their clothes, but it was so clear that they vibrated at the same frequency that Wayne couldn’t help but think that he should have expected this development sooner. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to believe them when they’d said nothing had happened between them the night of the party. His nephew went towards the driver’s seat when he called to him again.

“Ed, a word,” he was dead serious as Eddie jogged to where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

“You treat that girl right, okay?” Wayne said, voice low so she wouldn’t hear from the van. “I don’t wanna hear shit from her Dad about you bein’ stupid with her.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna fuck this up, Wayne. I love her,” Eddie told him, so sure of what he was saying that it knocked the wind out of his Uncle’s lungs for a bit.

“Love, huh?” Wayne laughed softly, and Eddie shrugged with red ears but looked so very happy. “Go, have fun. And take care of her.”

“I will,” he nodded.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Wayne said, ruffling his hair roughly like when he was just a boy barely taller than his own hip. “And your Momma would be too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, eyes full of unshed tears. “I’m proud of me too.”

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

[thosewickedlovelies]

we could be Dreamers - Prologue

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Summary: How this world came to be

Word count: 1,671

A/N: Hiii friends 🤗 soo there’s not really a lot of plot or Marcus Moreno :( here, but consider this a prologue/worldbuilding for a Marcus Moreno x reader fic I may eventually write lol. I’m really interested in how this universe got from The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl to We Can Be Heroes, because like. Sharkboy and Lavagirl were literally just some kid’s imaginary friends that somehow magically became real, so what does that mean for the other Heroics? Where did they come from?? So I kinda wanted to write something that would make you Think :) and explore the ramifications of such a transformed universe.

Consider my previous Marcus Moreno fic a prelude to this prologue 💗

--

It was a little unnerving sometimes, being in a room with so much power. No matter that this particular training arena at Heroics Headquarters was at least the size of an American football field- when all of the Heroics are gathered in the same confined space, focused on a single purpose, you can feel it. Like their power prances tauntingly in the corner of your eye, slipping away when you try to look directly at it. Like it winds through the air, worming its way into your veins, so your very blood breathes at you to run, run, run.

Not all of the individual Heroics gave off such uncanny vibes; some were simply ordinary people with extraordinary abilities. Techo-No, for instance, and his gift for creating fantastical gadgets. The implications of his works relevant to the world at large could be worrying, but he had limits. He was just a man. Determined, and creative (even more so with his son throwing ideas at him), but ultimately human.

Not like those with powers who’d been Dreamed.

Take Sharkboy. The temper for which he’d been infamous in his youth had cooled, but when he snapped, he did so literally- blade-sharp teeth an audible clash when he bared them in a ringing snarl. Any water in the room would roil and froth- but the most hair-raising sight was his eyes, tinged with the unreadable, abyssal blackness of his namesake. Focused with a predator’s calculation on the object of his fury. (It made you think that, ironically, his temper had cooled too much- concentrated into something as icy and merciless as the depths of the sea. Just as well his wife was a lava goddess).

It was well-documented that Sharkboy could influence his oceanic kin, seeing as he was half-shark himself. Some marine biologists postulated- in low voices- that fluctuation in his emotions could unknowingly influence shark activity no matter how far from the sea he was. But nobody at Heroics Headquarters had ever dared suggest attempting a study.

That you knew of, anyway. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a classified government branch somewhere which dealt solely with more insidious studies of the Heroics. Their weaknesses. Ways to defeat them.

Just in case.

Sharkboy and his emotions had stabilized as his Dreamer matured, but not all Dreamers were so invested in the well-being of their creations, or of the world they inhabited and could inadvertently affect. It was suspected that not all Dreamers knew that they had Dreamed at all, that they unintentionally brought Dreams into being far from where they were located and simply never became aware. This resulted in some Dreamed individuals being...unstable. Incomplete, really. Brought forth from a child’s mind, a young person who didn’t yet fully grasp the complexities of existing in this world, or indeed, the intricacies of what made one human at all.

Dreamers were children, more often than not. Their imaginative abilities generally far outstripped those of adults, worn down as they were with the grind of building a real life. The younger the person, the more time and creativity they maintained. The fewer methods they possessed to process their struggles which were grounded in reality, and not their imaginations.

--

Despite the years that have passed, nobody quite knows what happened to lead up to the Incident. How a single young boy had imagined so powerfully that it had warped reality; how his imaginings had given him the ability to design the universe at will.

The Daydreamer.

Max, as he later insisted on being called. An almost disturbingly innocuous name for a boy who had changed the world. Who had all but envisioned himself into having terrific powers- and enabled others to do the same.

In the years following the Incident, Sharkboy and Lavagirl continued to visit him in secret (Later, scientists realized that this why they recorded occasional, inexplicable disturbances in seismic and marine activity). But it wasn’t long before a larger threat to the entire Earth appeared- and so did they. To defend the place which they declared to be their new home. Though they had been willed into existence to protect Planet Drool, as Max determined to relinquish his daydreaming abilities and by extension, his dreamworld, so did the planet and its life diminish. Their presence there was no longer required, they’d explained. But earth could still benefit from their protection- especially after the reality of the threat came to light.

Someone else had Dreamed.

It wasn’t clear who, or how, or what their intentions had been. But once it had been said, everyone was forced to acknowledge the truth of it- or at least, admit that there was no other explanation. The villain’s origins were not terrestrial in any previously established sense.

Anyone who had ever met a child could have a predicted it. Too many young people ended up feeling outcast, overlooked, by both their peers and adults in their lives. It should have been obvious from the way they whispered his name. Not Max- a moniker far too average and relatable- but what they reverently regarded as his true title. The Daydreamer. A near-holy figure who had changed the game for youths everywhere. Now they had a way to combat those who plagued them. A way to create or become the superheroes who previously only existed in comic books and TV shows.

Or some did, anyway. Individuals with the strength of will and heart to Dream weren’t rare, but they weren’t quite common, either.

The only truly neutral positive of the Dreamer evolution was that governments everywhere suddenly accepted the need for increased mental health resources. Designed to increase healthy socialization for all ages and give young people ways to process and communicate their emotional needs, such programs were approved seemingly overnight in schools from elementary to university aged. “Small town life” flourished, and many city quarters and apartment buildings took to implementing “community builders” or, less charmingly, “social facilitators”- positions designed to create cohesive areas of living and minimize the kind of isolation and negative feelings that could leave someone to Dream of improving their life.

--

Nowadays, not all super-powered individuals were Dreamed. The second generation of Heroics was a testament to that. As if the universe itself had reckoned with the self-inception of the Dreamers, and seen fit to provide reality-warping countermeasures of its own.

Less than a year after the Incident, babies with...unique qualities began to be born. Few and far between, it seemed at first. Whispered reports swept from far corners of the globe, a phone tree branching from frantic parents to anyone who could provide even the slightest bit of reassurance. It seemed like doctors everywhere were swapping glances, no one willing to admit what was happening- until a second Villain appeared.

Every incident report said the same thing: a baby started crying, and then the hostages were saved by a power outage. A wash of sparks that darkened half the city.

Webbed with red lightning.

You sneak a look at the fully grown Heroic now, the long braids of her ponytail slipping over the shoulder of her characteristic red training outfit. Red Lightning Fury flexes her fingers as she listens to the head trainer explain today’s exercise- the usual sort of ‘heroes versus villains’ battles, with you and your fellow specialists assisting as villains- but judging by the lack of the smell of ozone, she isn’t yet using her powers. Blinding Fast, on the other hand, appears to fritz in place every few seconds, and you guess he’s running invisible laps to pass the time. It’s hard to tell if that’s what’s causing Lavagirl’s hair to tendril like neon pink smoke even though she’s standing still; usually the hypnotic heat shimmer of her lava flow causes the effect naturally.

You stretch in place while team arrangements are announced. As the majority of the Heroics filter into the stands to wait for their match, the buzzing, writhing presence of their power fades, and you can breathe more easily.

A figure flickers into being beside you, and you jump. “Jeez, Visi! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Having anticipated your reaction from the countless previous times she’s snuck up on you anyway, Invisigirl laughs. “You think you’d be used to it by now.” Your closest Heroic friend grins at you, all pearly teeth against smooth brown skin.

And she’s right, which is why you were so disgruntled. Having been caught unawares too many times by the invisible hero’s silent movements, you had once asked her to give you lessons. Her instruction had improved your own stealth immensely, and now that you knew what kind of signs to listen for, her attempts at startling you didn’t work nearly as often as they had. But- “It’s hard to focus on anything with all of your powers clogging up the air,” you grumble. The birthed heroes understood what you meant- they felt it too, the nagging hiss of something other in the Dreamed heroes’ energy.

Across the arena, it looks like Miracle Guy and Marcus Moreno are waiting to be your opponents. Interesting. Miracle Guy, with his Dreamed up Superman-like abilities, was the only one who had a way of seeing Invisigirl. What it was precisely, you couldn’t recall. You make a mental note to ask Visi later.

Marcus, however, telekinesis aside, is clearly meant to be the counter to your strengths. The two men are discussing intently, but as if feeling your assessing stare, Marcus glances over. He lifts his eyebrows at you in playful challenge, a hint of a smile quirking his shapely lips before he’s pursing them at his duel-mate again.

Suppressing the pleased flutter down your spine, you turn your attention to the task ahead as Invisigirl dips her head toward you. Planning something clever, you realize, intrigued by the glint in her eye. “Let’s talk strategy.”

When the starting bell rings, your partner vanishes, and your smile curves as sharp and gleaming as the blade in your hand.

[shesclearlya3]

Class Fight (p.1)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,303

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 2 part 3

1.

It was the first semester of your Senior year. The first month of school had flown by, and the Fall dance was just a few weeks away. Your small group of girlfriends was anxiously awaiting for their crushes to ask them.

You weren’t particularly concerned with this. The dance fell on the one Saturday of the month where you had to accompany your mother to some stupid Tupperware party. It was the newest trend in American dining, and your mother needed you as her plus one. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one dance… right?

Your best friends Winter and Zoe were excited, but they were devastated you couldn’t come. You always went with them as a trio.

“Are you sure you couldn’t cancel?” Winter asked while you washed your hands in the bathroom sink. The school day was over, and you planned on accompanying her to the diner for greasy food and to catch up on homework.

“I already promised her weeks ago,” you said, drying your hands. “There’s still prom?”

Winter nodded in understanding, and you both knew it was the end of that discussion. Zoe came out of the stall, her face flushed and hair tied back. She looked clammy.

“You alright in there?” Winter asked her as Zoe took a disposable cup and drank some water.

“Kyle asked me to the dance!” Zoe replied breathlessly. You and Winter both congratulated her, and Winter asked why she looked so sick.

“I just got overwhelmed, you know? He came up and asked me right as I put my books away. I didn’t think he was going too, he never brought it up before-.”

You followed them out as Zoe recanted the story of how Kyle asked her. The halls were mostly cleared now as kids scrambled to leave as soon as possible.

“You’re riding with us, right?” Zoe then asked you, raising a neat eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Dandy probably left already.”

The girls both smirked to themselves, but you ignored it. You were used to it by now.

The thing was, Dandy Mott was the best looking guy in school, in your opinion. You had never attended a public school in your life, but you knew those boys could never compare. Dandy was from the wealthiest family in your private district, and with his looks, girls were all over him.

However, he was quite the character. 

Dandy didn’t necessarily associate with a particular group of kids. He was reticent and didn’t bother with any clubs, but he was quite attuned to the drama program. He was also known for his temper if things didn’t go his way, but age matured him, mostly. You were one of the few people who he actually gave a damn about in life. You attributed that to knowing him before school. Your grandfather was a business partner with the Mott family, where your family name found their wealth, and how you two were friends.

You weren’t bothered by the unwanted attention you got from girls attempting to weasel their way into your circle for the chance to talk to Dandy. Most of them gave up quickly, and that was that. Plus, you had Winter and Zoe as your protectors. They weren’t afraid to kick a bitch in the vagina if they overstepped the clear boundaries you had set for yourself. Dandy trusted you, and you weren’t about to fuck that up.

Plus, his mother, Gloria, was continually trying to set him up with girls in other parts of town. 

You climbed into Zoe’s new car, buckling your seatbelt and glancing across the almost deserted parking lot. You spotted him instantly, sitting in his car and staring right back. You slowly raised your hand, giving him a wave. Dandy slowly reciprocated the action, and you swore you saw him smile.

You spent the evening with the girls, eating dinner and trying to explain the symbolism in the required reading in English. The football team had finished their practice and were crowding what few booths and tables were left. You tried to block out their raucous laughter, loudly asking Zoe to read your theory to see if it were plausible. 

Winter had noticed the Quarterback, Jason, occasionally staring at you as he chewed his burger. Your back was to him, so you had no idea. She didn’t say anything, instead watching him from the corner of her eye, figuring he wouldn’t approach your table. 

“I just think it only makes sense to me,” you told Zoe, scratching your head. “I can’t concentrate with the boys screaming for no reason.”

“I think it makes perfect sense. You did misspell authority, though…”

You laughed to yourself, glancing around the diner as Zoe fixed your spelling. You were so distracted, you misspelled simple words. 

“We should get ready and go, it’s getting stuffy in here…” Winter commented, closing her English book. 

“Just a moment!” Zoe said excitedly, scribbling down in her own notebook now.

You had started gathering your things when both Zoe and Madison looked behind you, looking a mix of concern and amusement. You glanced behind you to see Jason Dean, smiling down at you. His dark hair covered his eyes, and he pushed it back.

You had no idea what to say. The last conversation you had with Jason was probably in fifth grade when he commented that women were weak while helping you carry boxes of school supplies, and you accidentally dropped a massive box of markers on his foot. He cried for an hour. 

“y/n,” he addressed you. You glanced at your friends who were eagerly watching you with their faces hidden behind their textbooks. Winter’s was upside down.

“Hi, Jason,” you responded, hearing the confusion in your voice. You listened to his friends giggling behind you, and you wondered if this was a joke. 

“I haven’t seen you in a minute,” he said cheekily, and you nodded. “You look good.”

You quickly looked him up and down. Jason was muscular but not bulky, and he was definitely a whole foot taller than you. He grew into his facial features, and he was a handsome guy. You assumed he was just talking to you on a dare, so you finished putting your things in your bag. Zoe and Winter didn’t budge, still pretending to read their books.

Jason realized you were dumbfounded at his statement. He quickly backtracked, “I just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

You bid him farewell, turning to your friends who were having a hard time concealing their laughter. You heard Jason’s best friend, Matthew, call him an idiot and what sounded like a smack on the back.

“y/n, you have a boyfriend?” Zoe asked, smirking at you.

You glared, standing up as they shouldered their bags and grabbed their books. “You know perfectly well I don’t speak to him.”

“I bet he wants to ask you to the dance.” Winter grinned at Zoe, who nodded in agreement as you stepped into the cold autumn air. 

“I’m not going either way.” you mumbled, and the girls dropped it until the next morning. 

2.

You didn’t think it was that big of a deal that the Quarterback tried to talk to you at the diner a few nights before. All the students who were present spread gossip like wildfire. You ignored it. You knew they were just children speculating what it could mean when it probably meant nothing. 

Zoe and Winter never brought it up again, and you were relieved that your friends didn’t dwell on it for too long. You loved that about them. 

It was after lunchtime when you sat in your History course, going over the notes for the test. You heard Jason and a few of his friends pile in, laughing and making comments under their breath. They took their designated seats in the back, and you felt eyes on the back of your head. 

A group of popular girls across the room started to giggle, and you glanced up to see Dandy walk in, his nose up and sauntering to the seat directly behind you. You wondered why he didn’t acknowledge you, but you didn’t dwell on it long. Dandy was often absent from any social interaction. 

Your teacher began the class the moment the bell rang. She decided to go over the notes an extra day and postponed the test. You were mildly disappointed but knew the material well, so you decided to doodle in your journal. One of the girls in the front occasionally popped her gum. 

Ms. Strode was talking about World War II when you felt something hit your elbow. You glanced over and saw a balled-up piece of paper. You glanced around to see most people were either frantically jotting down notes or not paying any attention. You picked it up, assuming it just needed to be passed ahead.

However, you read your name in neat cursive and opened it under the table.

Would you go to the dance with me? - Jason

You read the short invitation a good ten or so times before you could comprehend what he was asking. While the teacher wasn’t looking, you peeked over your shoulder to see him staring at you. His buddies were hiding their own smiles, but you didn’t see any malice behind it. Was he serious?

Of course, you’d have to decline. You already have an engagement. You promised your mother. You already declined the evening with your two best friends.

You didn’t send a note back, knowing it would be too distracting trying to pass it. Dandy would never try to give a stupid message.

However, Dandy had been paying attention and had managed to read the note over your shoulder when you laid it on your pencil case. He became green with envy, closing the book he hadn’t been paying attention too in the first place.

You hardly spoke a word to him this year. He wondered why that was. Dandy was very particular who he said too, and gave any sliver of his precious time. You were a comfort to him and probably didn’t realize that. Dandy knew he couldn’t seem desperate for your affection, or at the very least, your attention. He had hoped you’d be waiting for him in his car after school like the previous years before. Did he do something to upset you? Were you too good for him?

Dandy spent the rest of the class staring at the back of your head. He knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was his behavior that steered you away. Of course, he liked being friends with you, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He was a loner who enjoyed his alone time. Dandy heard what people said about him. The general consensus was that he was doing everything right. 

When the class was dismissed, he hung back, watching as you quickly gathered your things and paced out the door. 

“Tough blow, man!” he heard Matthew say.

“She’ll come around.” Jason replied, his tone snarky. Dandy watched as they walked out of the room, his brows furrowing as he debated on taking the high road and asking you to the stupid dance himself. He wouldn’t go willingly. His mother, Gloria, needed him to be involved as much as possible. To keep up appearances, of course. Not for Dandy’s own goodwill. 

Dandy trailed out of the class, seeing you across the hall at your locker. Winter was beside you, somehow talking and applying lipstick at the same time. He stood off to the side, not minding all the bodies bumping into him and temporarily panicking that he’d yell at them.

This is it, Dandy thought. It’s a war, whether Jason Dean knew that or not. 

3.

Jason approached you the following day and asked if you’d mind talking to him at lunch. You hesitantly agreed, catching Zoe’s eye as she hugged Kyle before going into her class. She smiled at you, and you gave her a hesitant one in return. 

He definitely matured through the years. Jason was interested in you, and you felt comfortable talking to him through the entire lunch period, even catching yourself laughing at his sense of humor. Dandy played with the apple in his hands, glaring daggers at the back of Jason’s messy head. Winter noticed from her spot at your usual table and nudged Zoe, gesturing for her to look. 

“He looks pissed.” Zoe giggled, and Winter nodded in agreement. 

“I think Mott is going to kill him!” Winter said, stabbing at her steamed broccoli.

“Shouldn’t we let y/n know?” Zoe asked.

“I think she’s about to figure it out.” Winter said as Dandy stood up, heading directly to the table where you were sitting with Jason. Zoe and Winter fell into a hush, shoving food into their mouth and intently watching what was about to unfold. 

Jason saw him approaching first and paused, sizing the other guy up and down. Jason was bigger than Dandy in height and muscle tone from being an athlete, but Dandy wasn’t lanky either. You turned around, shocked to find Dandy staring down at you. 

“y/n,” Dandy nodded at you, ignoring Jason.

“Dandy, hi!” you said, genuinely happy to see him. “How are you?”

“I’m decent.” he said, smiling a little. “Could I have a word?” 

You glanced at Jason, who seemed timid, but he nodded. You stood up, promising Jason you’d be back as you followed Dandy out to the hallway. Multiple eyes followed you, and you heard the whispers starting as the door swung shut. 

“How are you?” Dandy asked now, looking down at you. His dark hair was neatly gelled and had a slight curl. 

“I’ve been good. I haven’t heard from you in a while…” you said.

Dandy nodded, “I could say the same. I assumed you’d come back around soon enough.”

You felt he was hurt by your absence. Dandy looked bothered, and you felt terrible. However, he was capable of approaching you as well. Which is what he thought he had to do. 

“Is everything okay?” you questioned, hoping his mother was doing well. You hadn’t seen her all Summer. 

“y/n, you know you’re one of the only people I care about in this stupid town,” Dandy said, glancing towards a teacher walking to the lounge. He gave you guys a questioning look but didn’t comment, disappearing into the next room. 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so Dandy continued, “Which is why I think you shouldn’t go to the formal with Jason.”

You frowned, “How do you know he asked me?”

“The whole school knows!” Dandy retorted, and you remembered. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not going either way.”

Dandy looked surprised, and you saw the relief in his eyes. He laughed a little, his fingers drumming against his leg. “Oh.”

“What, are you jealous?” you asked, laughing at him. Dandy tried to hide his laughter, but it didn’t work. The quiet hallway was filled with your giggles.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Dandy said, and you were saddened to hear the bell ring. Dandy straightened up, the smile leaving his face as kids filed out of the cafeteria and the surrounding classrooms. Kids stared at you and whispered, many laughing and wondering if you were now a couple. 

Jason slowly walked in your direction, but you didn’t want to say goodbye to Dandy. You were ashamed that you had avoided him for so long. You missed him. Dandy glanced behind you, his eyes sharpening as your new suitor waited patiently, his hands in his beige jacket. 

“Be careful around him.” Dandy whispered to you before he disappeared down the hall.

You approached Jason, who gave you a soft smile, “Am I missing something? Are you two together?”

You shook your head, a light smile on your lips, “No. We’re just friends.”

“Oh…” Jason nodded, “Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day. We don’t have to go to the dance together, but-.”

“Oh!” you gasped. Jason frowned, giving you a quizzical look. “The dance… I forgot,” you lied. “Uhm, I’m actually not going. I have other plans…” you said.

Jason looked defeated but took the rejection gracefully. You promised you’d sit with him again tomorrow, and he visibly cheered up at that. You ended up having to sprint to your locker for your books after saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Dandy’s warning. 

“Be careful around him.”

The Friday before the dance went to complete shit.

That morning you ate your breakfast slowly, listening to your parents argue in the kitchen over a business deal your mother thought was a bad idea. Your father was greedy and looked towards the top dollar than what was best for the business and the family. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Winter fell sick and couldn’t go to school. You had to wait for your father to finish getting ready before he could drive you. You were ten minutes late and got a verbal warning; you never got in trouble at school. You had three tests in a row, and by lunch, you were about to rip your hair out.

Jason was nowhere to be found, so you sat with Zoe. She was worried that Winter would miss the dance but was happy that she’d at least have Kyle if Winter canceled. Kyle came and sat with you guys, his shaggy blond hair wet from the downpour outside. 

You were anxiously looking around the cafeteria for any sign of Dandy. He had missed a few days of school, citing a fever when you called his house and spoke to his maid, Dora. You wished him well and knew he’d pull through fast. Plus, you saw his car this morning when you got dropped off. 

“They’re going to cancel the dance if more kids fall ill,” Kyle said as he ate a burger. Zoe glared at him, telling him to look on the bright side of things. 

“What? I am!” Kyle replied, smirking at his new girlfriend.

“I’m sure they won’t cancel.” you placated Zoe, who beamed at you. “All the parents who gave money will be pissed.”

You ate most of your lunch when the principal walked in. The room immediately quieted as he observed the tables before landing on you. He walked to you briskly, and you felt your heart racing as he approached. 

Am I getting detention? I’ve only been late once!

“Ms. y/l/n, could you come with me?” he asked politely, smiling at you, Zoe, and Kyle.

You nodded slowly, bunching up your trash and placing it on the tray. Zoe told you to leave it, and they’d take care of it. You quietly thanked her and followed Principal Harmon out, struggling to keep pace with his long, thin legs.

“Is everything alright, sir?” you asked. Now wondering if your parents died in some fiery crash or if you failed a class. 

“There’s been a disturbance outside this afternoon,” Harmon replied, his voice grim. “With Mr. Mott and Mr. Dean.”

You were shocked to hear this. You were silent during the rest of the trek to his office. When he opened the door, you saw both boys sitting in chairs. They both had packs of ice on their faces and sheepish expressions.

“What were you thinking?” you hissed to them as Mr. Harmon gestured for you to take the empty seat next to Dandy.

“Well, now that y/n is here, I think you both owe her an explanation and an apology.” 

Jason and Dandy shared a look. Dandy now looked pissed, and you could only imagine what lead to this. 

Oh, I have a pretty good fucking idea.

[aer-in-wanderland]

 구미호뎐 | Tale of the Nine Tailed - Lost in Translation EP01

In which my sister and I sat down with a pint of mint chocolate chip and wrote down everything that occurred to us while watching the fan-subbed version of TotNT EP01. Contains mild spoilers. 

Prologue

We open with an excerpt from the Hyeonjoonggi (현중기・玄中記), which the internet informs me originated in China sometime between 265-317 CE. In Korea in particular, gumiho are typically thought of as being female, but this is an example of a classical text that says they can be either. From what director Kang Shin Hyo said at the TotNT press conference, the premise of TotNT began with the idea of challenging this base assumption by making the gumiho male and placing him in modern-day Seoul. I would translate the passage as follows:

When a fox becomes 100, it can become a beautiful woman, or become a man who has relations with women. A fox that lives for 1000 years communes with the heavens and becomes a cheon’ho (heavenly fox). Its gifts are like that of a powerful shamaness; it can perceive things more than 1000 leagues distant.”  

To my sense, the passage was introduced to show precedent for the existence of male gumiho in traditional folklore, as well as to illustrate that foxes over 1000 (cheon’ho) can be closer to deities than monsters.

On to the show. The year is 1999. I’m surprised the subs left ‘Fox Ridge’ untranslated as Yeou Gogae since it seems like it would be relevant information that the place where the accident takes place is somehow tied to foxes. 

When the imposter parents (who I believe are also foxes) chase little Ji Ah up into her room and her not-dad says, “You little brat!” (or at least, that’s what the subs we’re watching say), this is an example of what’s called ‘code switching.’ His phrasing is somewhat old-fashioned, which in this case helps to give the impression that he’s not human since it’s the cant of creatures in traditional fairytales. For anyone studying Korean, the line is, “요 년 봐라,” where ‘nyeon’ might mean anywhere from ‘girl’ to ‘wench’ or even ‘bitch.’  

Okay, I have to ask. Does no one else in Seoul drive on Fox Ridge? How did Ji Ah have time to go home, get attacked, and then be returned to the scene of the accident (I’m assuming by Yeon) before anyone came across it? 

Also, how did Yeon know where to take her? He tells grown Ji Ah that he just happened upon her after catching the scent of blood, but I get the sense there’s more to the story than that. I feel like this is part of a larger pattern wherein Yeon goes out of his way to rescue someone and then pretends as if he didn’t.

Episode 01 Title Card: What Happened on Fox Ridge

According to Yeon’s alarm, our current timeline begins on Saturday, August 29, 2020, and he has a wedding to attend. 2020 yet no COVID19? I guess this really is a fantasy drama. ;p

The BGM playing while Yeon gets ready is called ‘The Fox's Wedding Day,’ or, more literally, ‘day when a fox goes to be married’ (Yeou ga shijip ganeun nal) and it’s actually Yeon’s theme. I was expecting his theme to be the track entitled ‘Gumiho,’ but I guess not lol

The sun-shower. In both Japan and Korea, a sun-shower is known as ‘a fox’s wedding’ (kitsune no yome-iri/yeou ga shijip ganeun nal), so this is already cluing us in that the bride is a fox (I say ‘bride’ because both these phrasings typically apply to a bride marrying into her husband’s house. The phrasing is different for grooms, who ‘receive’ the bride). This is what Yeon means when he arrives at the wedding hall and says, “That’s because a fox is getting married today.”

It’s strange to me that the bride’s identity has completely dropped out of the subs. She’s Yeou Nui (literally ‘fox sister’), a folklore character of the Brothers Grim-style horror school of fairytales. Her thing is that she’s a gumiho who preys on families with only sons who desperately want a daughter. She insinuates herself into their lives, brings calamity down upon them, and finally, eats their livers. Like most fairytales, there are many permutations of her story, but many of them feature her saying she’s consumed 999 livers. I understand where - absent this context - some people might have seen Yeon as the bad guy here (spoiler: he’s not). 

The subtitle here for Yeon’s line says: “But you need to know that changing your identity isn’t as simple as you think.” What he literally says is:

Yeon: How did you go to ground so completely? You think that if you change your face and your identity, your blood-stained past will change too, right? But changing lives isn’t as simple* as changing subway lines. [*Note: ‘simple’ is in English]

This is the first real dialogue we get from Yeon, and one thing it’s doing very intentionally is showcasing just how much he’s adapted to modern life. It does this both with the content of what he says (talking about changing subway lines), as well as with the amount of English loan words he tosses around. So I personally would have kept the bit about the subway in if I had been translating. 

Yeou Nui’s line was translated as, “Please forgive me,” but it should more properly be, “Spare me,” or “Let me live.” Yeon is an enforcer, not a judge. (Also, ‘forgive’ is another word entirely).

Yeon’s line that’s subbed, “Listen, you fox. How could you dare dream of having a happy ending after eating so many livers?” is the result of what’s called diagonal translation, which is an unfortunate side-effect of subtitling conventions. What he literally says is:

Yeon: Yeou Nui, after eating the livers of countless adoptive parents and older brothers* how can you dream of a happy ending? 

[*Note: The word he uses for ‘brothers’ here is 오라비들, which is a semi-antiquated word, and again, the sort of language used in folktales] 

Yeon’s line, “Here’s a piece of advice” is more literally, “Here’s a bit of advice stemming from experience,” which is the first hint we get in-drama that he’s been in a similar position. 

Nam Ji Ah

We get our first introduction to adult Ji Ah as she narrates the script she’s editing for her TV program on her way to the wedding hall. When Jae Hwan worries about her changing the script without the writer’s permission (again lol), Ji Ah's response translated literally would be: 

Ji Ah: Then let’s go with this. PDs’ livers have to be swollen or coming out of their bodies. 

That’s a pretty disgusting image in English, so I don’t blame the subs for changing it to something more sensical and less graphic. But as a cultural note, in Korea and Japan, having a large liver means to be gutsy or brave. Ji Ah’s character description similarly describes her as, ‘a woman whose liver is [so large it’s] coming out of her body,’ meaning she’s about as gutsy as it gets. 

Okay, call me a cynic, but I loved Ji Ah’s line about not being able to digest wedding food due to the choking atmosphere of forced happiness pfft 

Jae Hwan saying, “Who knows? You may meet your destined partner at a place like this,” as Yeon walks by in the background = Jae Hwan unwittingly hitting the nail of the head #1

Lol Yeon acting like a bored kid held captive at a dinner party while the wedding takes place. Bless Lee Dong Wook because I’m sure it’s all ad libbed. I feel like this could be a game: spot the LDW ad lib. 

The Wedding Hall Incident

When Yeon returns to her dressing room after the wedding, Yeou Nui changes tactics from begging to putting her hackles up and challenging Yeon. Linguistically, that’s marked by her code switching to an archaic cant. Yeon, however, remains unfazed and responds with the most modern thing possible, completely undermining her bravado:

Yeou Nui: Oh former master of Baekdudaegan, what authority have you to condemn us?

Yeon: Get a hold of how she’s talking (rhetorical). Hey, if it wasn’t for you I would’ve been watching American TV shows while eating ice cream today!

Okay, I love the way Yeon materializes his sword. I thought he was (un-)transforming his umbrella at first, but he later does it with a plank of wood so I assume he can do this with pretty much anything?

On the topic of his sword, I posted a gif set not long ago referring to it as a sa’ingeom (사인검), literally ‘Four Tigers Sword’ (referring to the year, month, day, and hour of the tiger when such swords were supposedly forged). You’ll notice it doesn’t have a cross-guard since they’re traditionally ceremonial swords rather than actual weapons. The first sa’ingeom were made during the reign of King Taejo (1392-1398), but I assume they gave him one despite it being somewhat anachronistic because they’re also said to cut down evil spirits and ward against calamity. Mostly, though, it looks really cool and is very traditionally Korean. 

Not for anything, but I love this BGM track that’s playing during the wedding hall fight (‘The Uninvited’). This short action sequence was so great. I wish we could have seen more of Yeon hunting down supernatural baddies. Also more of those gumiho eyes. More gumiho everything in general. 

As he stabs her, Yeon’s line to Yeou Nui in the subs was rendered as, “Don’t do something stupid like falling in love in your next time.” I would have translated this as, “If you’re reborn, don’t do something so [useless] as falling in love.” Again, for anyone studying Korean, the phrase is ‘사랑 따위" (sarang ddaui). ‘Ddaui’ means ‘such a thing as,’ and it’s always used to disparage whatever proceeds it. There’s no good way to communicate that disparagement in English grammatically, so I opted for ‘useless’ in an approximation. 

The BGM that plays the first time Ji Ah spots Yeon leaving the wedding hall is called ‘White Pupils’ (or literally ‘white eyes’). The imagery typically associated with that is death, so I’m curious what inspired the track title. Maybe they mean ‘white eyes’ like the fortune teller since it’s used at fateful moments?

“Who knows? That may be the story you were destined to cover.” = Jae Hwan unwittingly hitting the nail on the head #2

“Were they mass hypnotized or something?” = Jae Hwan unwittingly hitting the nail of the head #3. Thank you, exposition fairy. ;)

Okay, when Ji Ah and Jae Hwan examine the scene, Ji Ah’s line is subbed, “I need to see what that woman of this love story looks like,” which is ungrammatical in addition to being wrong. What she actually says is:

Ji Ah: I need to see the face of that protagonist of the Romance of the Age. [And I believe the ‘protagonist’ she was referring to is actually Yeon ;) This is bordering on meta, seeing as he’s actually the protagonist of the epic romance that is TotNT] 

Kim Soo Oh

The BGM playing while Yeon sits in the park people-watching and then looks pensively at his hand is called, ‘Thread Rings.’ Between that, what LDW alluded to in his VLIVE, and some still cuts I saw of deleted scenes from EP16, I’m convinced there was something more to those rings that got cut due to time constraints. ㅠㅠ

Fun fact: This scene between Yeon and Soo Oh was the first scene of the drama that they filmed.

When Soo Oh asks Yeon what he’s doing there, the sub for Yeon’s response was, “Nothing other than waiting for someone.” That strikes me as off in tone as well as pacing. I would have translated it as, “Just.....waiting for someone.” (which is literally what he says).

When Soo Oh asks Yeon why he’s waiting, the sub says, “Because a fox can only love one person till death.” I don’t really have a problem with that translation, but what he literally says is, “Once a fox takes a mate they never forsake them. Until death.”

Sub: “How are you coping with that?” / “Not well.” > Literally: “Are you okay?” / “I’m not okay.” I actually like the sub here since it better conveys how precocious Soo Oh appears in this scene. He seems to alternate between precocious and adorably dim throughout the drama depending on who he’s with, though when he’s with Rang, it’s mostly the latter pfft

When Yeon turns down Soo Oh’s offer of friendship he says, “Your nose. I’m not big on men with runny noses. And human lifespans are too short to be friends with me.” Yeon's use of ‘men’ struck me as funny since I guess to someone over 1600 years old, an 8 year old and an 80 year old aren’t all that different. Also, Yeon giving serious life advice to an 8 year old is adorable. He talks to him like he’s an adult. 

The Afterlife Immigration Office

Between the BGM and the way the camera pans up the endless levels of shelving, did anyone else feel like Yeon entered Hogwarts for a sec? (not complaining) ;)

For the record, Yeon uses banmal with Taluipa and calls her halmeom (granny). In contrast, Hyeonuiong is pretty much the only character Yeon speaks to in jondaetmal and addresses respectfully as ‘elder’ (eoreushin). He speaks to Ji Ah’s parents politely as well, but it’s mainly because they’re her parents.

The text introducing Taluipa’s character wasn’t translated in the version we’re watching but it reads: ‘The god who rules over the River of Three Crossings (Samdocheon), the boundary between this world and the next.’ The hanja for her name (奪衣婆) refer to her traditional role, namely, removing the clothing of the dead for her husband to weigh on the Uiryeong’su (su = tree) to measure the weight of their sins. This is the same tree that the Uiryeong’geom (the wooden sword that appears in EP13), is allegedly carved from.

Lol Taluipa saying she has to keep up with the times but also using a computer that’s positively ancient (come to think of it, it’s probably from the 80s since that’s her favorite decade)

Again, I’m surprised that Yeou Nui’s character name dropped from the subs completely. The subs here just say, ‘the female fox.’

For Taluipa’s line, the subs say, “You’re to obey the order and capture who you’re sent after,” but that’s a loose approximation. More literally, it should be: “If the higher ups say to bring someone in, then you just have to bring them in.” I’m only mentioning it because the line implys that both Taluipa and Yeon report to someone higher up the chain of command. Otherwise they may be misconstrued as Taluipa’s orders. 

Yeon’s line, “My compulsory military service has gone on for 600 years. How could I not go crazy?” is hilarious when you consider that Korean men are required to complete 2 years of military service, and even that often feels like an eternity, so I think for any Korean, the idea of 600 years of it is just exceptionally cruel. The line is iconic enough to have been included in Yeon’s character profile.

I noticed this a while back, but ‘mountain god’ is being consistently translated as ‘mountain spirit.’ Technically, Yeon is (was?) a god, if a low ranking one in the grand scheme of things (the Korean word is ‘sanshin’ where ‘san’ = mountain and ‘shin’ = god). I understand the use of ‘spirit’ though, since he’s not a god as gods are typically thought of in western mythologies. 

Lol Yeon sticking his fingers in his ears (I would bet money this was also an ad lib)

Taluipa has a line that’s subbed, “Foxes never stay in debt.” More literally, it should be, “They say foxes repay eunhye no matter what.” You can find my explanation of eunhye here.

Wow, the subs really dropped the humour ball on Taluipa’s line here. First off, she says, ‘Right now’ in English. And while the sub says “Do you want your freedom back?” what she literally says is. “Do you want to be discharged?” (since Yeon had just likened his duties to military service).

On his way out, Yeon actually tells Taluipa, “Halmeom, you’re going to go to hell” (which is not the same as the underworld/afterlife as it said in the subs. Taluipa’s job is literally to ferry souls, so she goes to the afterlife all the time anyway). Also, when he says “I’ll pray for it everyday,” his phrasing is that of an elderly person pfft

As I mentioned, Yeon speaks formally to Hyeonuiong, who in return affectionately calls him Yeon-ie or Yeon-ah, which I find adorable.

Lol I’m not used to Ahn Gil Kang playing such a friendly character. Seeing him wheedle Taluipa with aegyo is hilarious. 

Code Red

Somewhat of a side note, I can’t help but wonder, is Shin Joo’s last name ‘Gu’ because he’s a gumiho, a la My Girlfriend is a Gumiho (2010)’s Gu Mi Ho-ssi?

I wish the subs had just left ‘Lee Yeon-nim’ as-is, instead of changing it to ‘Mr. Lee.' As a general rule, I’m in favor of preserving character forms of address when translating. 

Personally, I would have translated the name of Ji Ah’s TV program as: ‘In Search of Urban Legends’ rather than ‘Unveiling Urban Legends.’

I really like the dynamic between Ji Ah and writer Kim Sae Rom. “Should we fight?” / “Yeah, let’s fight~” How great is it that this drama doesn’t have a single catty, bitchy, stuck-up or otherwise obnoxious female character? 

For anyone keeping track, Shin Joo speaks to Yeon in jondaetmal while Yeon speaks to Shin Joo in banmal, underlining their master/retainer dynamic. 

Side note: There are actually multiple ‘types’ of jondaetmal: what I think of as ‘neutral polite’ (i.e. simply adding ‘yo’ to the end of all your sentences), the more formal polite (i.e. ending with ~[seu]mnida), that which elevates the subject, and that which lowers the speaker. The interplay of the four allows for varying degrees of politeness. The way Shin Joo speaks to Yeon is pretty much the highest degree. That doesn’t mean they aren’t close. Polite language can indicate distance but also level of regard irrespective of distance. This applies to Rang and Yoo Ri as well.

Again, Shin Joo calls Ji Ah ‘PD-nim’ but that became ‘that female director’ in the subs. PD-nim is a respectful (and non-gendered) form of address, and it’s perfectly suited to Shin Joo’s genial and deferential personality, so I wish the subs had just kept it. 

I read an episode recap where the recapper mentioned she wasn’t sure what Shin Joo’s deal was. At the time I was confused, but now I think I get it. In the subs, Shin Joo says, “When I’m a seasoned veteran? I’m now up to the point where I’m wondering if I’ve turned into an actual person.” What he actually says is:

 Shin Joo: No way~ How long have I been living in this (the human) world? Recently, I sometimes even have an existential crisis wondering, ‘Am I a person or a fox?’

[So he flat out says he’s a fox here, but that wasn’t reflected in the subs.] 

Fun fact: this was Hwang Hee’s first scene that he filmed with Lee Dong Wook, and the BGM as they exit is Shin Joo’s theme.

I love the way Lee Dong Wook played this scene where they pay their tab. That is all.

It’s only as Yeon and Shin Joo exit the restaurant that we see that the sign out front reads ‘The Snail Bride’ (Ureong Gakshi). This is another folktale in-joke, since the snail bride’s whole thing is that she cooks delicious meals for her human husband everyday. 

For the record, the Snail Bride (Bok Hye Ja) also uses honorific language towards Yeon and calls him ‘Lee Yeon-nim.’ I just assumed it was in deference to his ex-mountain god status, but it turns out she has a personal reason for holding him in high regard as well that we discover in the final episode.

As Yeon and Shin Joo walk away, Shin Joo’s line is subbed, “That show’s actually quite famous.” Since Korean doesn’t require a subject, the sentence is somewhat ambiguous, but I understood him to be referring to Ji Ah herself rather than the show since he says: “[Something is] really famous around the broadcast station.” 

Lee Rang

Lol Kim Beom. How are you 32 years old? 

I love how sharp and no-nonsense Ji Ah is. It’s so refreshing to not have to wait for the characters to catch up to what the audience already knows. 

Rang’s theme that plays as he transforms back into his suave self is so iconic. The music director (Hong Dae Sung) really is a genius. It’s funny when you think about how different Rang’s theme is from Yeon’s. 

Fun fact: Kim Beom shared in his Instagram LIVE that Rang ‘picking the wrong shoes’ was actually intentional. He was testing Ji Ah to see if she’d notice. 

Okay, Rang says here that he likes, “everything about her (Ji Ah) from head to toe,” (not in a romantic way but in a grudging respect/she’s fun to toy with kind of way) but what happened to that? Are we supposed to assume that he would have liked her if she hadn’t been the object of his brother’s affection? But he approached her knowing that’s who she was...? I don’t know. I do know I wish they’d had more scenes together. Their verbal sparring is great.

Side note: One Korean fan nickname for Rang and Yoo Ri that Kim Beom liked was ‘Hoket-dan,’ playing off the Korean for pokemon’s ‘Team Rocket’ (Roket-dan) and mashing it together with the ‘ho’ from ‘gumiho’ haha

Yeon’s obsession with mint chocolate ice cream is a hilarious counterpoint to his status as a cheon’ho and his ex-mountain god title. Point to the writer. In Japanese, this would probably be called ‘gap-moe’.

When Yeon tells the man behind the counter, “When I’m indebted to someone, I’m obligated to return the favor,” he’s once again talking about eunhye. As a fox, he’s supernaturally bound to repay good deeds done for him. As far as I’m aware, this is unique to the drama and not part of the traditional gumiho lore. 

Yeon eating ice cream like a happy kid XD Lol Lee Dong Wook, how are you 39?

Fun fact: Yeon’s line when he answers Rang’s call, “The number you have reached doesn’t exist, you punk” was an ad lib by Lee Dong Wook. The combination of the formal phrasing found in a typical voicemail recording followed by ‘you punk’ is particularly funny. It’s so witty I actually wouldn’t have known this was an ad lib if LDW hadn’t confessed as much himself. 

“Let’s meet.” / “I refuse.” /  “I’ll set your house on fire.” Hahaha What is with these brothers? Are they 1600+ and 600, or 16 and 6? Are the zeros silent??

Bus 1002

Ji Ah: “If possible, pick a different dream. I’ve been on the clock for 22 hours straight now.” I like Ji Ah so much. She’s unpretentious, intelligent, honest, driven, resourceful and witty. 

Lol As Ji Ah struggles with the old man, you can hear Yeon offscreen urging the driver to get moving. Only he calls him, ‘driver yangban.’ Yangban is originally a word for a nobleman, but much like the word ‘lady’ in English, what was once a term of respect is now...not. lol Also, I’m pretty sure this was another ad lib by Lee Dong Wook since it happens entirely in the background.

This scene with Ji Ah piggybacking the old man is so classic spooky-folktale. I love it. 

"You’re the only person I saw.” *Close up of the totem pole* They managed to make that whole sequence creepy despite nothing actually happening. Cool cool cool. 

So our old drunkard is revealed to be a Mokjangseung (mok = wood). Jangseung in general are totems that stand at crossroads and the entrances to villages. tvN published some backstory info explaining Ji Ah’s past with this particular Jangseung and why he elected to save her which I translated here.

Aaaand we’re back at Fox Ridge. I can’t believe I only just noticed this, but the episode title could refer equally to the accident in Ji Ah’s past and this bus accident in the present. 

Of course Rang staged the accident at the site of Ji Ah’s greatest trauma. Also, the fact that he knows that about her is telling. 

Appropriately, the BGM playing as Ji Ah arrives at the scene of the accident is ‘Fox Ridge’ (Yeou Gogae). Iconic.

Back over to Yeon. The first time I watched this I wondered where on earth he was heading in that downpour but it turns out he was in pursuit of Rang, who had given him the slip. 

Seeing Yeon limping injured through the rain ㅠㅠ  Also, while Yeon later tells Ji Ah he carries his umbrella everywhere because he hates his fur getting wet, he clearly isn’t bothered here, choosing to keep it sheathed on his back instead. I guess all bets are off when he’s in Gumiho Mode. 

Detective Baek and Ji Ah speak in banmal and he calls her ‘Nam Ji Ah,’ which I assume means they’ve been friends for a while. 

Wow, good for Ji Ah for having made note of the exact number of passengers in the midst of all that chaos. I certainly wouldn’t have. 

Hospital Encounter

So after Rang gave his brother the slip, Yeon realizes the next day that he’s at the hospital thanks to the news article Shin Joo reads out to him. Idk but I like that shot of the two of them heading out. There’s something vaguely Avengers about it. Which is maybe not surprising given that was another early influence for the show. 

I liked this conversation between Ji Ah and ‘Soo Young.’ We get to see Ji Ah’s own resolve and drive in the advice she offers: “Even so, I hope you’ll become strong. It’s way more fun to be a PD than a victim.” 

As with when he arrived at the wedding hall, the cinematography + BGM as Yeon approaches the hospital with his red umbrella is just A++ 

The BGM playing when Ji Ah spots Yeon approaching the hospital information desk isn’t on spotify or anywhere else that I’ve seen. It reminds me a bit of the ‘Tubular Bells’ theme from the Exorcist (a movie I actually haven’t even seen). If anyone knows what it is, I’d love to know. 

“My only talent is my face~” pffft  Also, decidedly untrue. 

When Ji Ah tells Yeon, “Yes, I’m scouting you, but not for that,” She literally says, “but not for that genre.”

And now the subs say ‘Fox Ridge.’ Okay, then. 

When Yeon says, “From the sound of it, it won’t be well made,” ‘well made’ is in English. Again, the peppering of English through Yeon’s speech makes him sound more modern.

When Yeon says, “Plus, I’m very devoted” his line is more literally, “Plus, contrary to how I look, I’m the devoted type.” Are you saying you look like a player? pfft

Yeon is such a big softie, so why does he keep threatening to kill people? Does he not realize they might take him seriously?

For this entire conversation (interrogation?), both Yeon and Ji Ah are switching back and forth between polite speech and banmal, almost on a sentence by sentence basis. On the whole, it gives the impression of a verbal sparring match.  

“It’s not as if this was a blind date. No thanks on a second one.” lol I do enjoy cheeky Yeon. 

Oh, I love that Ji Ah thinks on her feet. Using her leather bag to lift Yeon’s fingerprints was a smart move. Although, I’m not entirely convinced it would work that well in real life. 

The ‘grim reaper’s outfit’ exchange was a coordinated ad lib between Lee Dong Wook and Hwang Hee. I mean, of course it was lol Casting Lee Dong Wook is the gift that keeps on giving. 

Was that supposed to be Yoo Ri entering ‘Soo Young’s’ hospital room in those boots?

Minor detail, but ‘Soo Young’ calls Ji Ah ‘eonni’ meaning ‘older sister.’ It’s common convention in Korean to refer to people by familial ‘roles’ that fit their general age range even when you’re not actually related. I could digress, but I guess I just find it jarring when they have her addressing Ji Ah by name in the subs since Ji Ah is older and virtually a stranger. 

Okay, when ‘Soo Young’ hears that Ji Ah lives alone, the smile she gives is effectively creepy. 

The contrast between ‘Soo Young’s’ narration and the events of what actually happened on the bus that we see as viewers is great. Point to the director. 

Wow, Rang really just slaughtered a whole bus worth of innocent people without a thought. I feel like we all managed to forget that about him as the show progressed. Hats off to the writer and to Kim Beom’s compelling performance. I actually worried initially that Rang would remain a one-note character because that would have been such a waste of Kim Beom, who is a fantastic actor. I’m so glad that wasn’t the case. 

I love the subversion of viewer expectations when it turns out that Ji Ah knew all along that ‘Soo Young’ wasn’t who she claimed. This is something TotNT does repeatedly and well. We get both the dramatic tension of her being in danger and the satisfaction of her having had the upper hand all along. Point to the writer.

I’m pretty sure Ji Ah knocked that pitcher over with the express intent of using a shard from it as a weapon. Point for character consistency. Past or present, Ji Ah is apparently a ‘stab first, ask questions later’ kind of girl.

The Brothers

“Hey you! I clearly told you I didn’t want a second date?!” Haha Oh, Yeon. 

I saw comments from Korean fans about how Yeon burst into her house with his shoes on here, and now I can’t not think of them when I watch this scene: ‘Entering the house with your shoes on...in the Republic of Korea...Ha...’, ‘Even if you bust the whole house apart, you have to take your shoes off before entering...’ lol

I love Yeon’s line that’s subbed as, “As if, brother.” In Korean, it’s “Do you want to die, little brother?” The word he uses for ‘little brother’ is ‘아우야,’ which, while still used occasionally today, is an antiquated word Yeon might just as easily have called Rang 600 years ago. It’s also, in contrast to the first half of his sentence, quite an affectionate term of address. 

Rang’s line subbed as, “It’s a long story, but the family has a dirty past,” should more properly be: “It’s a long story, but you might say we come from a broken home.” Saying they have a dirty past makes it sound like they’re the mafia or something. Also, as a fun language note, the expression is literally ‘a bean-powder household.’ 

“Are you worried I’ll be sucked into the Underworld?” should be: “Are you worried I’ll go to hell?” Not sure where they got ‘sucked into.’ Rang just means when he dies. Also, I wish the subs would do a better job distinguishing between hell, the underworld, and the afterlife. They’re three different words. 

“It’s because you embarrass me, that’s why.” Lol at the way Yeon covers his eyes. That’s definitely another ad lib from Lee Dong Wook. 

When Rang calls time here, he actually calls Yeon ‘hyung.’ I suspect this wasn’t in the script but rather something that slipped out subconsciously on Kim Beom’s part, since the writer was clearly saving that word for when it would hurt us viewers the most. ㅠㅠ

Yeon’s line is subbed, “Old habits really do die hard,” but it should properly be: “You still haven’t fixed that habit?”

“If you don’t find it until the end of the next month, this woman will die.” This should actually be: “If you can’t find [that] by the next end of the month, your woman will die.” The subject is actually omitted so it’s unclear to what exactly Rang is referring, which is intentional. I also understand hearing ‘your woman’ (ni yeoja) as ‘this woman’ (i yeoja), but when they later flash back to this conversation they use a different take in which the line delivery is clearer and I’m confident it’s ‘your woman.’ This also explains Yeon’s confusion, since at this point he didn’t even know she’d been reborn. 

I Waited for You

For anyone wondering how Ji Ah got into Yeon’s apartment, apparently his house code is 0000 lol

From his expression as he discovers and then watches the video she secretly took of him, I feel like Yeon is impressed with Ji Ah in spite of himself and I’m 100% here for it. 

For the record, from this point forward, Yeon and Ji Ah use banmal with each other. Ji Ah has a tendency to speak to many of the supernaturals in banmal, which is honestly the opposite of what I would have opted for in her shoes. 

Yeon’s question of, “How did you come here?” could mean either, ‘What brings you here?’ or ‘How did you get [in] here?’ in Korean, and honestly they’re both valid haha

Minor note, but she actually says his Korean age is 36, which would be 35 by the typical reckoning...except he’s actually ~1636 so it’s a moot point, really. 

Ji Ah’s line, “Now I can proudly say that it’s fate,” translated more literally would be: “At this point, it really is fate and not coincidence.”

I feel like Ji Ah’s strategy of throwing herself off the balcony here is possibly the only thing she does in this entire show that strikes me as dumb. Like, I’m pretty sure if Yeon hadn’t been both benevolent and able to fly (and she had no guarantee that he was either), letting her just fall here would have been the easiest way for him to resolve the matter/the only thing he could have done. 

Yeon’s line, “Did you just test me?” is one of the rare instances in which he code switches to archaic speech. I guess using his gumiho powers put him in a Gumiho frame of mind. ;)

On the whole, I prefer the instrumental OST tracks to the lyrical ones, but ‘Blue Moon’ is just sooooo catchy. I wish they had continued using it more. 

And that concludes Episode 1. I’ve never posted anything like this before, but hopefully it was at least mildly interesting. Let me know what you think. 

[bridenore]

Author rec : Femmequixotic

One of my favorite authors by far. Here are a few recs, listed in alphabetical order. I’ve read most of those stories multiple times, without any regrets.

***

All I Want For Christmas (Is For You To Stop Talking) by @femmequixogtic and @noeeon [162k]

The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely?

Warnings: Background discussion of divorce, coming out, parenting, very brief mention of difficult pregnancy.

As Magic As It Gets by @femmequixotic [9k]

The last person Draco expects to see in the office of his relocation charity is Harry bloody Potter.

As soul from bodies steal by @femmequixotic [40k]

Hope may be found in the oddest of places, even in the bleakness of winter.

Black Holes and Revelations by @femmequixotic [38k]

What was meant to be an unexpected one-off in the loo of a Camden bar turns into something rather different, much to Harry and Draco's surprise.

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [39k]

Post-war Hogwarts has been energized by its new teaching fellows program. Where once bitter enmity divided the wizarding community, Malfoy and Potter chummily patrol hallways together whilst Granger and Zabini seek lost parts of the castle at McGonagall’s behest and Chang supervises Quidditch when not lecturing in Charms. It’s a veritable wizarding utopia and life is predictable for the first time in years. Which is, of course, when everything blows apart as the result of a drunken dare and Malfoy’s life is ruined beyond his capacity to repair it. Ever. In a million years.

Can't Get You Out of My Head by @femmequixotic [14k]

After he sees Harry Potter naked in the Auror showers once, Draco can't stop thinking about him. 

Lost In Your Arms by @femmequixotic [257k]

Three months after their brief encounter, Draco has almost forgotten about Potter--or so he tells himself. Then a Dark wizard shows up on the Auror radar and all hell breaks loose. Draco will have to choose between everything he holds dear--everything he's worked so hard for--and a few stolen moments of passion with a certain green-eyed Inspector, once his sworn enemy and now something rather different entirely. He'll make the right choice, won't he?

Who is he kidding? He'll ruin everything, as per usual. Bad choices and the name Malfoy go hand in hand.

These Secrets In Me by @femmequixotic [357k]

Auror Special Branch team seven-four-alpha--Sergeant Draco Malfoy, Constable Pansy Parkinson, and Constable Blaise Zabini led by their SIO, Inspector Harry Potter--must handle personal and political fallout from the implication of Ministry employees and Aurors in the scandal around escaped Death Eaters and a Dementor uprising at Azkaban. On top of that, their original target, Antonin Dolohov, is in the wind.

With all the ruckus, it's a good thing they have help from Unspeakable Hermione Granger, American Unspeakable, Legilimens, and Harry's recent ex, Jake Durant, Blaise's legendary necromancer grandfather, Barachiel Dee, and his potions expert mother, Olivia Zabini. What could possibly go wrong with an army of best friends, ex-lovers, and family? Especially when you add the strong-willed Parkinson clan to the mix.

Meanwhile, troubling new leads arise, taking Our Team in a surprising direction.

And Draco, still hiding his relationship with his SIO from the upper echelons of the Auror force, is definitely not falling in love with Harry Potter along the way. Not at all. Don't be ridiculous.

Dare To Think by @femmequixotic [388k]

After recent events in New York, Seven-Four-Alpha are set to return back to London. They've captured their primary target, but by no means settled their case. They've still got rogue Dementors at Azkaban, prying investigators from Luxembourg, and a far larger Death Eater threat to manage, not to mention pressure from their own higher ups. Draco is reeling from his loss, and Harry is trying to be the best boyfriend he can, which may mean not being Draco's guv any longer. Harry's uncertain what his team'll find as they press deeper in the investigation, but he knows they will all be tested, perhaps more than they can bear.

But they haven't a choice, have they? It's the bloody Death Eaters, after all, and the political integrity of Wizarding Britain and their magical allies hangs in the balance.

Set Me Free by @femmequixotic [196k] *Incomplete

Seven-Four-Alpha are back in London with available resources of the Ministry tracking their every move. Draco Malfoy remains lost, last seen in Thibodaux, Louisiana, as MACUSA was closing in. Harry is raging, barely in control of his magic, and the rest of the team are battered and unsure. Their recent failure haunts them, as does the spectre of a MACUSA-Ministry alliance under the control of the Quahog administration and its shadow puppetmaster, Aldric Yaxley. The Dementor crisis with Luxembourg is brewing in the background, as is a conflict with Rodolphus Lestrange. And that's not even mentioning the bargain Blaise struck with Death to return his cup. The team have very little energy or resources for one fight, much less several of this magnitude simultaneously.

Should they fail, though, political tyranny will grip both sides of the Atlantic and evils recently banished may return. Each of them is fighting for something they hold dear, but no victory comes without a price. Still, desperate situations call for desperate measures, and desperation appears to be all they have.

Cigarettes will kill you by @femmequixotic [3k]

He lights a cigarette across the pub, his hand cupped to his mouth as the tip sparks to life in a faint orange flare, and my breath catches.

Kiss A Boy In London Town (And Other Intimate Misadventures of A Society Whore) by @femmequixotic [36k]

There's only one cardinal sin for a whore.

Let's Dance To Joy Division by @femmequixotic [12k]

Let the love tear us apart, I've found a cure for a broken heart...

Little Talks by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [11k]

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

Once upon a time, yesterday by @femmequixotic [22k]

"You've always been obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. That should probably tell you something."

Pocket Full Of Starlight (Never Let It Fade Away) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [46k]

When Scorpius Malfoy and Jamie Potter meet at Quidditch camp, they take an instant dislike to each other. Then they discover their lives are more connected than they could possibly imagine.

Reading Malfoy by @femmequixotic [15k]

After thirteen years of hiding himself away in Muggle London, Draco Malfoy shows up again in the wizarding world--with a wickedly amusing memoir in hand. Harry doesn't want to read it. Really. He doesn't.

Sæglópur by @femmequixotic [34k]

After a difficult breakup, Draco finds himself dragged to the land of magic, law, and natural wonders where, of course, nothing goes as planned.

Says the magpie to the morning  by @femmequixotic [33k]

It's terribly bad form, sleeping with your ex when you're still half in love with the bastard.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

Take A Sad Song (And Make It Better) by @femmequixotic [46k]

The last thing Harry wants is to lose his kids.

Things Worth Knowing by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [164k]

After the Battle, Harry thinks he's left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco's just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He's hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that's not even addressing the fact that Potter's got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he's forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn't it?

Unkissed Kisses and Songs Never Sung by @femmequixotic [12k]

I sit silently in the shadows, staring at the tiny, pulsing ball of light that tells me my Harry's still alive.

Waiting By An Open Door by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [29k]

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by @femmequixotic [68k]

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

The Weight of a Wanting Heart by @femmequixotic [11k]

After nearly two decades hidden away in the Wiltshire countryside, Draco Malfoy’s surprised to see a familiar face come into his local.

When You Kiss Me (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by @femmequixotic [22k]

A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough.

The Years That Walk Between by @femmequixotic [15k]

Draco finds his way after the war.

***

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[thisiswhatwereupagainst]

Sebastian Shaw textually represents American values, politics, and ways of thinking, or at least used to. Not subtextually, but textually. But he hasn’t been written as such in years. And I think partly that’s because in 2009, a change was made to his history that made him have been Emma Frost’s former abusive lover, and writers prefer to focus on that---Emma is a far more popular character, and it’s a PERSONAL story rather than a political one---and because, if they go with this criticism as hard as some former writers did, they risk alienating a good chunk of their audience. Because while lots of people will agree with the message of “oh yeah don’t be mean to minorities” in a bland general way, Shaw represents a criticism of something FAR more specific, and far more culturally beloved. The American dream. I’m not reaching with this either, this is not simply my opinion, this is stated in the text itself: ”By the age of 30, Shaw had earned his first million. By 40, his first billion. He wasn’t just living the American dream, Sebastian Shaw was the American dream.” - X- Men: Hellfire Club #4” So, what does that mean, the American dream? The American dream is the ideal that anyone can make it if they work for it. That it doesn’t matter who you are, what you are, or where you come from, you can do it if you believe. And Shaw does]. Shaw is smart, he’s determined, he believes in himself, he never gives up, and he becomes a multi-billionaire for it. That’s lovely. It’s also the cherry on top of a stew of very dangerous boot-strapping ideas that blames people for their own poverty and the suffering that comes with it----suffering that ironically Shaw himself has been through. He grew up a deeply impoverished child and his mutation manifested due to literal class violence; a group of preppy college guys beat him up for being a poor kid on scholarship, for basically getting out of his place. More on that HERE. And yet despite this history, when Shaw himself becomes rich he espouses these views: “Our costumes signify our abandonment of the modern age–with its cloying ethics and bourgeois mercantile principles, where society is bent on protecting people from themselves at an cost—for a far simpler one…where a man was limited solely by the scope of his imagination, his ambition, his daring. And bound only by his own personal sense of honor. Society—the common herd–means nothing. The individual is all.” - New Mutants #22 “He [Shaw] will tolerate no inefficiency, no waste, no weak-minded liberalism.” —X-Men:The Legacy Quest Trilogy, Book Three, by Steve Lyons Bishop: “Out of the goodness of your heart?” Shaw: “Enlightened self-interest.” -  Uncanny X-Men #453 These are quotes that reflect very real-world libertarian and Objectivist politics. Shaw’s not a conservative, I should stress---as much as one might WANT to label him such, his investment in individual rights, individual self-interest, individual achievements, and personal freedoms above all else, including disdain for common morality and belief that one should set one’s own personal code of honor (which he did, very early in his writing, believe it or not), is much more Libertarian. Shaw is Black King of the Hellfire Club, I can’t really see him getting fussed over same-sex marriage or abortion the way conservatives do. His use of the phrase “enlightened self-interest” is also a real-world term in the philosophy of ethics. These quotes represent a lot of ideas that many people do find appealing---the values of individualism, of people choosing their own codes of honor rather than having them enforced by society and the government, of not being controlled by silly government things like safety regulations, the idea everyone should earn everything they have, that the government should not be trying to protect people from themselves (the term “nanny state” is often used by libertarians)---and there is even merit in them. There are good ideas here. But it’s coming from a villain. Sebastian Shaw is a bad guy. We are not supposed to agree with him. We are meant to see his point and his point of view (back when he was allowed to have one; he’s really not now) but at the end of the day, probably not to think he’s right. So, this man is textually referred to as The American Dream, he says these quotes, and he is the bad guy. A bigger criticism of these deeply held American values around “hard work” and “no big government” and individualism---for America is a deeply individualist country---would be hard to come by. Shaw also provides a comment both on how people from an underclass will turn on their own and how in fact our culture trains us to do so, and on America’s history with Communism, the antithesis of the ideals Shaw represents, and how that’s affected us to this day. Again, Shaw grew up very poor. He’s a self-made man, and very proud of that, and that is indeed the American ideal. And I think he represents very well both how people are ready to step on others once they themselves become successful enough to do so, but also how well Americans as a people are trained to RESIST what’s good for us. After all, the biggest haters of welfare here in the South (where I live) are the same poor white people who are on it. We’re a people who will vote to take away social programs and healthcare not just from others, but OURSELVES, because we are just that indoctrinated against anything that we think smells even close to socialism or Communism-----and Shaw was indoctrinated too, to a much more EXTREME degree than we are today. He’s in his 40s when he first shows up in the 80s, which means he was born in the late 30s, so he would have been growing up during the era of McCarthyism and the second Red Scare, when the American nation was actively terrified of Communism on mass scale and it was a HUGE impact on the culture. Combine that with being born in terrible poverty, and no wonder this guy grew up to embody all the worst excesses of capitalist greed and cruelty! Which is not to say he has an excuse to be the way he is, but just that, like most villains, he has a reason, and it’s actually more interesting than just “well he’s greedy” as it’s often boiled down to. But writers like to boil it down to that. It’s simple to understand...and it doesn’t take risks. You don’t risk pissing anyone off with another “greedy rich guy” cliché villain. That’s a very safe villain, very shallow, very easy to hate. You also don’t take risk with the “Emma’s evil ex” stories. That’s also a very safe villain, very easy for readers to hate and root against, and personal rather than political. But if writers today started having Shaw espouse the politics he previously did, that would NOT be a “safe” move. They would risk readers being pissed off because their own views are coming from a man who is unquestionably, irredeemably, and unrepentantly the BAD guy. Shaw believes things I suspect a great many X-Men readers believe, and will be angry at seeing critically examined and challenged. It’s easy to agree with stuff like “minorities shouldn’t be murdered” for readers, but Shaw takes on much more specific and deep issues that, while they do move the target away from the mutant minority metaphor, are worth discussing and make him a deeper, far more interesting character than he gets to be anymore….and I would like to see him be again.

[tiikeria]

Patron of the Poor, Protector of Outcasts

Title: Patron of the Poor, Protector of Outcasts Ship(s): None Rating: T Warning(s): Language Words: 1,874 words Summary: “I am Midas, God of Gold. Patron of the Poor and Protector of Outcasts. Wherever poverty and the downtrodden go, I’m needed. And Los Santos was full of it.” Notes: Huh. Two fics in two weeks? Am I feeling okay? I also have a third planned, and my lovely co-creator Pchew has one going as well. We like this AU bit too much. Anyway, enjoy!

Gavin didn’t like showing off what he could do. The more you played close to yourself, the more people underestimated you. That’s how he got such a reputation as a bumbling idiot. No one suspected the dumb one to swindle you out of everything, now did they?

But something was endearing about the childlike wonder Michael and Jeremy watched him with when he used his powers. Even the smallest thing seemed to capture their attention. His fellow Lads were so curious about what he could do, and, honestly, it was refreshing. Normally people regarded the gold from his hands with distrust and fear.

“So, what can you make?” Jeremy asked one afternoon, a lazy Sunday playing games and just enjoying each other’s company, “I mean, with the gold. Like, can you shape it, or is it just a flood, like before?”

Michael snorted, putting down his controller, “Jeremy just wants to know if you can make him a golden Spyro.”

“I do not!”

Gavin laughed, but produced the aforementioned dragon in his palm, shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun, “Shame, that, because I happen to have one, yeah?”

Jeremy’s pure joy and awe almost made him blush, “Okay, I do really want a golden Spyro, holy shit that is so fucking cool.”

“You think everything Spyro is cool, though.”

“I’m a simple man,” Jeremy stated, still staring longingly at the golden figure in Gavin’s hand, “I see Spyro, I’m happy. Same thing with whiskey.”

Giggles erupt from Gavin’s lips as he tosses the dragon to Jeremy, “Sorry, I can’t make golden whiskey. That’ll have to do.”

Michael huffs as Jeremy cradles his new toy like a father cradles a newborn, “What about me? What do I get? How dare you gift this schmuck something before you gift your Boi something! Does Boiship mean nothing to you, anymore!?”

“Michael, no, Michael!” More laughter bubbled from Gavin’s chest, “You’re my Boi, Michael! Jeremy’s my Lil J, but you’re my Boi! I have something for you, yeah? How about this?”

Gavin makes a show of it since he had their undivided attention, and because he could without the worry of scaring them. With a flourish, he presents Michael with a small, blocky, golden sword. Michael pretends to not be impressed, but Gavin can see the awe and joy in Michael’s eyes.

“Gold swords are for chumps, Boi!”

Gavin pretends to be offended, all part of the games they all play with each other, “I don’t bloody shit diamonds, Michael! But if you get me some, I might be persuaded to give you an upgrade.”

“You can do that?!” Jeremy perks up from where he had been admiring his little Spyro, “You can make diamond swords?”

“Well,” Gavin hums, “I can make swords. I’m sure making one out of diamonds isn’t impossible, yeah? Just have to figure it out. We could make a day of it, lads! I could teach you how to be smithies, just like I used to in the 1800s!”

“I always forget how fucking old you are,” Michael shakes his head, “I mean, you talk about the 1800s like it was last fucking year.”

“I’m only 3000 years old or summat. That’s nothing compared to other Gods!”

“‘Only 3000,’” Michael mocked in a high, squeaky, British accent, ignoring Gavin’s whines to stop being a “smegpot.” Jeremy laughed in turn at Gavin’s pout, but not unkindly, “You old ass Greek fuck.”

“If you’re Greek,” Jeremy giggled, “Why the fuck are you British?”

“What? What do you mean, ‘why am I British?’”

Jeremy throws his hands up in the air, “You were born in Ancient Greece. You lived in Ancient Greece for a long fucking time. You’ve lived in the US for a few decades. So why the fuck did you decide to be British?”

“Because I lived in the British Isles for over a century, Jeremy! I came over with the Romans and never bloody well left! I’m probably more British than Greek anymore, yeah?”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“That’s not how you work,” Gavin grumbles petulantly, earning him a snort from the two other Lads.

“So you’re fake British. What the fuck made you come to Los Santos of all places? I mean, you went from European shithole to American super shithole.”

Gavin stretches out on the white sectional that took up most of the Fakes’ living room, sun streaming in the floor to ceiling windows making his skin look more golden than it really was. Jeremy and Michael settle down similarly, the quiet music from their abandoned game the only other sound in the room as Gavin collected his thoughts.

“Now that’s a question, innit?” He finally says, leveling them with a lopsided smile, “You know I’m God of Gold, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jeremy instantly answers, to which Gavin hums.

“That’s not all I’m God of. Most gods have other domains as well, like Artemis being Goddess of the Hunt, but also of Childbirth. Or Apollo being God of Medicine as well as Music and Prophesy. I also have other domains.

“Akakios contacted me a few decades ago, about 40 years, really, and said he found a city that needed me. He had been living in the States for quite a while at that point, from the Northeast to the South to the Midwest. Everywhere, yeah? But he had never said that about any of the cities he visited. So, I knew he had to be serious to even consider that a city needed my help.”

Both Michael and Jeremy watch Gavin closely as Gavin turns to look out over the city through the windows. Eventually, when Gavin didn’t start up again, Michael piped up, “So what else are you God of that made it so you could help Los Santos?”

Gavin smiled softly, “I am Midas, God of Gold. Patron of the Poor and Protector of Outcasts. Wherever poverty and the downtrodden go, I’m needed. And Los Santos was full of it. Corruption was even worse than it is now. At least 80% of the population was below the poverty level. Almost 30% were homeless. Kios saw these people and knew I could help them somehow. So, I boarded the next flight from London and got to work.”

“Jesus,” Jeremy breathed, “You fixed Los Santos?”

“I still am, yeah? Until these people no longer pray to me, I’m needed.”

The three were quiet for a moment, as Gavin watched the sun dip lower in the sky out the windows, buildings glinting in the late afternoon sun like steel and glass gemstones. He still had so much work to do to get Los Santos to where he’d be happy leaving it. So many were still born into poverty. Too many homeless and alone. He did what he could, but he was one God against a society that didn’t care.

Gavin started when Michael finally spoke, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument. Gavin knew that tone very well. Michael had made up his mind about something and wasn’t about to be swayed.

“So, what can we do to help clean up the shit?”

“I…what?”

“You heard me. How can the crew help? We have more money than sense anymore. And most of us grew up in lower-class dumps like Los Santos. Hell, Fiona was raised here. I’ve been on the streets, and it sucks major doo doo. So, how can we help you make this place a level above a turd?”

Gavin felt a swell of emotion for his Boi, that extended to Jeremy when he saw him nod in agreement. Both of them were watching him in rapt attention as if soldiers waiting on their orders. And Gavin…well, Gavin knew exactly what they could do. A grin curled on his lips as he pulled out his phone to call a crew meeting.

“Boys…I think we need a heist.”

A few weeks later, the news would tell a peculiar tale. Someone had broken into dozens of homes of wealthy Los Santos citizens, all in one night. Nothing was taken but the clothes in their closets, and the food in their cupboards.

Meanwhile, every legitimate shelter in Los Santos, homeless camps, and charities received an anonymous donation of clothes and food. The only note was emblazoned with a green duck and written in gold ink.

Enjoy your donations. Make sure they’re used. We’ll be watching over you.

Of course, this didn’t make the news. Stories of the lower class never did. But that was just fine for the culprits; they didn’t do it for the fame or the fortune. No, they did it for the people. The people of their city.

It took a while before the police caught on to what the crew was doing. Sure, they still hit banks, but the majority of the stolen notes would end up funding an after-school program for at-risk youth. Expensive items would go missing, only to end up at a charity auction for a women’s center. And those few good officers saw what the crew was trying to accomplish. For the first time, the Fakes had allies in the LSPD; not many, but it was a start.

And the crew themselves seemed to have a new spark. Excitement in the air when they all sat down to plan the next heist, with the next recipient of their Robin Hooding. Jack heisted for a Children’s Hospital and they ended up with a small green duck on the new mural for the playground at the hospital’s campus. Geoff bolstered local AA and addiction groups, giving them the resources they needed to reach more people. Jeremy and Michael worked together to create boxing and wrestling programs for low-income kids. Matt and Trevor created STEM programs. Fiona worked on LBGT programs. Lindsay was adamant about helping the animals of Los Santos.

They all had their niche. And, together, they did their best to make good in the city.

Gavin was overjoyed, to say the least. To see the people he cared about the most helping him make the city a better place was everything he had ever hoped for. He still got prayers daily, almost hourly, but they were coming less as people had more places to turn for help. Of course, he would always answer the call, if needed, but he could finally relax after 40 years of doing everything he could to raise the city from its rough beginnings.

And he started to see a shift in the people as well. They were helping each other, raising each other from where they had fallen. Injustice was being spoken out against. Marches were organized for victims of senseless violence. People were donating more of their time and money to helping those around them. Gang wars turned into alliances against corruption. Ballas and Vagos worked side-by-side on cleaning up the rec center that bordered their territories. The Families extended protection to those too weak to fight for themselves, with no payment needed. Even Madrazo’s Cartel could be seen handing out food and blankets to the homeless.

Something had changed. Something had shifted.

Maybe there was still hope for Los Santos after all.

[your-hurricane]

neon moon || chapter 1 - broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times

A/N:  Disclaimer, I haven’t written fanfic since I was fourteen so please be gentle with me, friends

AO3 link

Fair warning that the only editing this has gone through has been proofreading!

Also, the first two chapters are largely exposition and setting up the various connections between Frankie and the MC (Natalia), but they will finally get to meet in chapter three!

Neon Moon summary: [starts three years after the events of the movie]

Single dad Francisco "Frankie" Morales and former Ph.D candidate Natalia Yevstigneyev-Diaz are trying their best. 

Alternatively: Frankie and the woman about to change his life keep missing each other, until they don't.

“Whoo-wee! Nice one, Diaz!” Benny said from where he’d just been knocked onto his back atop the sparring mats. 

 At her instructor’s praise, Natalia Diaz preened, making a show of taking her long dark wavy-curls out of her workout ponytail and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, always happy to hear my badassery is increasing.”

 “I’d say perfecting. That was solid.”

 “Yeah, haven’t seen him go down that unexpectedly probably ever,” piped up a man with big, kind brown eyes whose name Natalia swore was Frankie. She’d only ever heard him called by his real name once or twice --- Benny usually greeted him as Fish.

 If Frankie was here, that meant the rest of Benny Miller’s military buddies would be trickling into the gym. Pity they seemed to be on time today— flipping Benny was fun, maybe he’d’ve given her a window to do it again. Sometimes if his buddies ran late he’d keep sparring with her past the self-defense session she’d paid for. 

 “It’s thanks to him and his lessons! Wouldn’t know where to begin without him.” Natalia hi-fived Benny from where he was on the floor, now sitting. “Thanks as always, Benny. See you Friday afternoon?”

 “Hell yeah!”

 “Awesome. Well, I’ll get out of your hair before the rest of the guys show up. Later Benny!” She nodded politely to Frankie just as she spotted the man she knew to be Benny’s older brother and...Pope? Santiago? again, she’d only run into these men in passing.

  ~.*~.*~.*~.*

Natalia Diaz’s early life read like an adventure, and in many ways, it had been. Her mother, Anna Diaz, was a first generation Mexican-American of Spanish, Mixtec, and Chinese background who met her father, then in medical school, while studying abroad in Russia. Her father, Gavril Yevstigneyev, was from Yakutsk of mixed Russian, Yakut, and Chuvash background. He was a doctor who gave up the possibility of an ultra-lucrative career to spend most of his life working as a medical officer in human rights organizations, and she was a research assistant in those same organizations.

 Born while her father was practicing in St. Petersburg, Natalia Gavrilovna Yevstigneyeva Diaz didn’t spend too long in one place. She may have been a dual citizen of the United States and Russia but she didn’t set foot in the United States until she was twelve years old, and her earliest concept of ‘home’ was Pakse, Laos. She was educated at international schools across Southeast Asia, and spoke Lao, Khmer, and Vietnamese in daily life depending on where the Yevstigneyev family was living, Russian at home, learned English and French at school, and her mother taught her enough Spanish to understand her abuela’s English-Spanish mix on birthday and Christmas phone calls.

 When it came time to graduate from secondary school - she graduated in Laos, ultimately  - she even applied to universities across Laos, Canada, Cambodia, France, The United States, Switzerland, China, Singapore, Australia, and Russia. At her parents’ insistence she cast her net far and wide. Except, with twenty-two acceptance letters and zero rejections, she almost wished she hadn’t.

 She studied at McGill University and through a combination of scholarships, her parents’ help, and her “waitressing” job (stripping job actually, and Natalia was damn proud of it and the crazy money it made, but knew her parents would flip out on her so she lied), she earned her B.A.s in linguistics with a minor in translation and interpretation, and anthropology.

 She had her pick of the litter as far as where she could settle post-grad: her dual citizenship made the US and Russia wide open to her, Canadian employers were offering to keep her in Canada, her parents still lived in Laos - six years in one place? That was a record for her folks! - and the NGO they were working for straight up offered her a job without her even sending an application. 

 There wasn’t a grad school on planet Earth that would’ve rejected her application.

 Natalia’s life should have been set forever. For a while, it was.

 After a gap year traveling Bhutan, Thailand, Indonesia, Mongolia, and completing the Trans-Siberian railway with her younger sister Mariya, who took a gap year between secondary school and university herself, Natalia prepared to conquer grad school….at motherfucking Yale!

 That same year, her parents and younger siblings (save Mariya who was studying at Yakutsk State University in their father’s home Russian Republic of Yakutia) moved to her mother’s home state of Texas. A part of Natalia felt bad for her eleven year old sister and the three year old twins out of some sense that her upbringing had been, objectively, the best possible. Natalia did not feel Russian, or Mexican, or American, or Laotian, or Cambodian, or Vietnamese, nor did she feel the need to. Borders were an arbitrary thing. People were people just with different languages, looks, and customs, and she believed she came to know that truth early in life because of her childhood as a third culture kid. 

 She understood why her parents made that decision though.

 In her first year of grad school, the Yevstigneyev Diaz siblings were twenty-two year old Natalia, nineteen-year-old Mariya, eleven-year-old Valentina, and two-year-old Alisa and her twin brother, the only boy in the family, Pavel. Alisa had been born partially deaf and their parents, as if they could react any other way, saw it not as a terrible thing to mourn over but as an opportunity to learn. A challenge did not equal a burden in their eyes. When she was two, however, they realized they needed to either move back to Russia or move to the United States.

 The Yevstigneyevs primarily worked and lived in Vietnam and Laos, and there was no singular Laotian or Vietnamese sign language, rather, localized sign languages. As Alisa grew from an infant to a toddler they decided they did not want to deprive her of Deaf culture, and thus, the decision to move to Texas was made.

 Just two years after relocating to Texas, tragedy struck the family.

 A car speeding through a red light killed Anna and Gavril on the way home from volunteering their time to teach Russian classes at the local Russian cultural center. Natalia, then twenty-four years old with a newly minted Masters from Yale and acceptances to three Ph.D programs, had to force out emails declining the offers, pack up her apartment, and move to Texas to raise her siblings.

 Abuela Rita instinctively offered to handle her grandchildren, but Natalia couldn’t possibly make her abuela (who she barely knew at that) raise three children again. Besides, her mother’s youngest sister still lived at home, and this was the same year Hurricane Harvey destroyed one of her uncle’s homes and he, his wife, and their children were also living in Abuela’s home...yeah, no. No, this had to be Natalia.

 It was Natalia or the state of Texas and like hell she was going to throw her three little siblings, two of them just four, and one of them deaf,  into the system. Alisa being able to communicate in ASL was so important to her parents...how could Natalia possibly let Alisa go into a system that wouldn’t care?

 And anyway, it wasn’t so bad. She used her fluency in Russian, Lao, Khmer, and French to work as a book translator. She’d even gone back to dancing four days a week for two reasons. A. You’d think speaking five languages fluently would mean she was making an assload of money, right? Wrong. and B. The inheritance and life insurance policies from her parents wouldn’t last forever and she had four college educations to finance. 

That was three years ago, and two and a half years before she started taking self-defense classes from Benny Miller. She’d only been working at an Austin strip club for about four months when one handsy patron reminded her that she needed a refresher on how to throw a punch.

 As for why she was Natalia Diaz now and not Natalia Yevstigneyeva? Well. She was still Natalia Yevstigneyeva-Diaz, but unless she was filling out legal papers, or at the Russian cultural center, it was just Diaz. Her mother’s last name was just easier for Austinites to pronounce right. You had to be at least a level six friend to unlock her tragic backstory and her full last name.

 Natalia had had everything going for her until one drunk driver took her parents, her Ph.D goals, her planned return to traveling the world, and even her name in one instant. 

 She wished she had it in her to be bitter but that would require her to have time to think about herself anymore. If it wasn’t taking ASL classes with Alisa, it was listening to Mariya complain about her job. If it wasn’t Valentina’s archery competitions, it was Pavel’s gymnastics meets. 

 (Yes, yes, she knew. How stereotypically Russian of them to have a kid in competitive gymnastics. It wasn’t her idea! Pavel loved it and when he begged his big sister to be allowed more than one class a week...she dared anybody to say no to that face.)

Any Natalia time she did have was too precious to spend being bitter, she decided.

   ~.*~.*~.*~.*

“Natasha! Nataaaaaaaasha….NATASHA!” 

 “Wha!” Thud! “Fuck. Oww.”

 Natalia groaned from where she’d fallen into a startled pile on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling and turned her head to shoot a glare at Mariya.

 “Marusya, one day, you’re going to scare me awake to actual death.”

 “That’s impossible.” Valentina said from where she sat at the dining table typing up a paper for school. “If you’re scared to literal death you can’t be scared awake because you’ll be dead. Dead people can’t be awake.”

 “Unless she’s a zombie, Valya!” Shouted Pavel from his room down the hall.

 “Pasha’s got a point.” Mariya said, to which Natalia grabbed her foot and yanked hard, making her shriek as she fell against the couch. “Oof. Anyway, you’re going to be late for work if you don’t hurry up.”

 Natalia checked her watch and let out a swear under her breath. “I really need to not spar with Benny on work nights. Hey, Valya-” she sat up on the floor and whirled around to face her middle sister. “Do I need to drop you off for babysitting anywhere tonight?”

 Valentina shook her head. “Abuela’s picking me up to take me to Mr. Morales’. I’m watching Daniela.” Mr. Morales - whoever that was - lived near Abuela and her taking Valentina to his house gave her some ‘Valone time’ she liked to say.

 Natalia peeled herself off the floor and made her way to her bedroom, stopping by Alisa’s on the way. She grabbed the purple narwhal plushie that lived in a little basket attached to her door - the Get Alisa’s Attention Narwhal - and gently tossed it at Alisa, and when it landed in her lap Alisa tossed it back to Natalia, kept her hands free, and said “I didn’t forget.”

 “Good. If you’re good at the dentist tomorrow morning, I’ll buy you ice cream after.”

 “Isn’t that the opposite of what you should do after the dentist?”

 “So you don’t want ice cream?” “That’s not what I said!”

 Natalia laughed and stepped far enough into Alisa’s room to ruffle her hair and then said, “Be good. Masha’s in charge while I’m at work.”

  ~.*~.*~.*~.*

 “Thought you were day shift on Wednesdays, Natasha!” A black woman with her hair in box braids — Jess, stage name Phoenix — said, throwing her arm around Natalia when she first got to work. 

 “Nah, I talked to Paris, got my hours changed around, remember? Gosh, it’s like you don’t remember everything I ever say to you.” 

 Jess stuck her tongue out and muttered, “Bitch,” before smooching Natalia’s cheek.

 Natalia shoved Jess off of her with a giggle. “Go finish getting ready, ya crazy.” She sat down in front of one of the available mirrors to touch up her makeup before she was officially working, then addressed Jess again. “My 11-8 days are now Sunday and Monday. Wednesday, Saturday, I’m here with you 8 til 4, baybeeeee.”

 “Mm, good call. Wine Wednesday.”

 Half price wine meant more cash for dancers. 

 “Needs more body glitter,” Natalia said in her best Christopher Walken impression, before unscrewing the cap of her body glitter to shiny herself up. 

 “Now in your Zoya voice!”

 “Needs more body glitter,” Natalia repeated, this time, in her stage persona’s stronger Russian accent.

 The accent helped to further distinguish between Zoya the performer and who Natalia was offstage. It also wasn’t exactly offensive, either, because it was just Natalia exaggerating the accent she naturally had and just making it consistently Russian. It was a mess otherwise. Natalia and Mariya...talked funny. Their accents were kind of impossible to place because of how they learned English and which languages they first learned to actually speak in.

 At first listen, their international school education would hint at American- ish . But listen closely and certain vowels come out like an Aussie or a Canadian, courtesy of international school teachers from those countries. Listen for another moment and you’ll hear that Natalia’s tongue, specifically, never learned to consistently make certain sounds that English has that Russian, Lao, Vietnamese and Khmer just don’t. Natalia’s H’s came out harsh courtesy of her Russian father. And both Natalia and Mariya had a habit of dropping articles when telling their younger siblings to ‘close window’ or ‘feed dog and cat.’

For the most part, as Natalia tried to explain to anybody who asked about her accent, English was a language for the classroom. They spoke exclusively Russian in the home and out in ‘the wild’ spoke the local language. Yakutsk was a closer flight from Laos, Cambodia, or Vietnam than Austin was so if they visited any grandparents for Christmas it was their babushka and dedushka in Russia.

 Returning to the US permanently never was the plan, remember. It was only a decision they made for Alisa to live somewhere with a standard sign language -- and the only reason, Anna confessed to Natalia once, that they didn’t go back to Russia, was because Natalia had recently come out as bisexual.

  “We worried for Valya and the twins. What if they also grow up and realize they aren’t straight? The way it is in Russia for people like you...your father and I love Russia more than the United States. But we love our kids more than Russia.”

 She hated how vivid that conversation was in her head. There were some truly beautiful moments with her mother that had already faded from memory. How unfair of her brain to let things like holidays, birthdays, and her mother’s hugs slip. 

“Drive home safe, Jess.” Natalia bid her friend farewell a little after four the next morning, kissing her on the cheek before she unlocked her own car. If she got up to 70 and stayed there, she’d be home in time to count her tips, shower, and fix breakfast for the kiddos before school and in Alisa’s case, the dentist.

~.*~.*~.*~.*

 “Stand still Pasha,” Natalia said as she gently bopped the seat of her baby brother’s pants to knock the glitter off them. “Your butt looks like a glitter cannon exploded right next to it.”

 Pavel giggled and pointed out, “It’s your fault there’s always glitter in your bed.”

 “You shouldn’t lay down in my bed for naps after I’ve woken you up for school anyway. Especially not after you’ve already got your clothes on, you dingus.”

 “ Heeeey, that’s mean!” Pavel pouted.

 “Not if I’m saying it with love. Which I am.” Natalia stood up and pressed a kiss to the top of her brother’s head. “Okay, your butt’s as unsparkly as it's gonna get.”

 “I don’t see what wrong with having a sparkly butt anyway.” Pavel grumbled.

 “Now run along to the bus stop with the other kids. Be good at school, learn lots, I love you kid.”

 “Love you too , Natashe-!” the -nka! came muffled as Pavel had darted out the door to run down to the bus stop. 

 Natalia sipped on her coffee and watched out the window as her brother darted across the field to the complex’s mailbox pavilion to make sure he joined the other children safely. Satisfied he had, she turned away from the window to trudge back to the kitchen and refill her coffee and begin her vanilla work for the day before she had to wake Alisa for the dentist. On today’s docket? Trying to get through editing at least the first third of her Russian translation of the next book in the hottest new YA series.

 There was nothing Natalia wanted more than a nap but she was already cutting her deadline close. Right on schedule was the same as being behind in the literary translation world. If she wasn’t so ahead of schedule she was getting bored then she was nearing panic mode. 

 Logically she knew that only she felt that way. Her boss didn’t, or at least never felt the need to express to her that he did, but just herself was enough to put the pressure on from beginning to end of a project.

 It had benefited her in school. Not so much in her career.

 A life in academia as a linguistics scholar and researcher would have suited her better. The universe didn’t consider that when it let a drunk driver kill her parents and leave her three siblings to raise and Mariya’s academic dreams to finance.

[thainews1]

Should Your Child Watch TV News? Surprising Opinions of Top Anchors

More than ever, children witness innumerable, sometimes traumatizing, news events on TV. It seems that violent crime and bad news is unabating. Foreign wars, natural disasters, terrorism, murders, incidents of child abuse, and medical epidemics flood our newscasts daily. Not to mention the grim wave of recent school shootings.

All of this intrudes on the innocent world of children. If, as psychologists say, kids are like sponges and absorb everything that goes on around them, how profoundly does watching TV news actually affect them? How careful do parents need to be in monitoring the flow of news into the home, and how can they find an approach that works?

To answer these questions, we turned to a panel of seasoned anchors, Peter Jennings, Maria Shriver, Linda Ellerbee, and Jane Pauley--each having faced the complexities of raising their own vulnerable children in a news-saturated world.

Picture this: 6:30 p.m. After an exhausting day at the office, Mom is busy making dinner. She parks her 9-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son in front of the TV.

"Play Nintendo until dinner's ready," she instructs the little ones, who, instead, start flipping channels.

Tom Brokaw on "NBC News Tonight," announces that an Atlanta gunman has killed his wife, daughter and son, all three with a hammer, before going on a shooting rampage that leaves nine dead.

On "World News Tonight," Peter Jennings reports that a jumbo jetliner with more than 300 passengers crashed in a spinning metal fireball at a Hong Kong airport.

On CNN, there's a report about the earthquake in Turkey, with 2,000 people killed.

On the Discovery channel, there's a timely special on hurricanes and the terror they create in children. Hurricane Dennis has already struck, Floyd is coming.

Finally, they see a local news report about a roller coaster accident at a New Jersey amusement park that kills a mother and her eight-year-old daughter.

Nintendo was never this riveting. See here ข่าวไทย

"Dinner's ready!" shouts Mom, unaware that her children may be terrified by this menacing potpourri of TV news.

What's wrong with this picture?

"There's a LOT wrong with it, but it's not that easily fixable," notes Linda Ellerbee, the creator and host of "Nick News," the award-winning news program geared for kids ages 8-13, airing on Nickelodeon.

"Watching blood and gore on TV is NOT good for kids and it doesn't do much to enhance the lives of adults either," says the anchor, who strives to inform children about world events without terrorizing them. "We're into stretching kids' brains and there's nothing we wouldn't cover," including recent programs on euthanasia, the Kosovo crisis, prayer in schools, book- banning, the death penalty, and Sudan slaves.

But Ellerbee emphasizes the necessity of parental supervision, shielding children from unfounded fears. "During the Oklahoma City bombing, there were terrible images of children being hurt and killed," Ellerbee recalls. "Kids wanted to know if they were safe in their beds. In studies conducted by Nickelodeon, we found out that kids find the news the most frightening thing on TV.

"Whether it's the Gulf War, the Clinton scandal, a downed jetliner, or what happened in Littleton, you have to reassure your children, over and over again, that they're going to be OK--that the reason this story is news is that IT ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS. News is the exception...nobody goes on the air happily and reports how many planes landed safely!

"My job is to put the information into an age-appropriate context and lower anxieties. Then it's really up to the parents to monitor what their kids watch and discuss it with them"

Yet a new study of the role of media in the lives of children conducted by the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation reveals that 95% of the nation's children ages 8-18 are watching TV without their parents present.

How does Ellerbee view the typical scenario of the harried mother above?

"Mom's taking a beating here. Where's Dad?" Ellerbee asks.Perhaps at work, or living separately from Mom, or absent altogether.

"Right. Most Moms and Dads are working as hard as they can because we live in a society where one income just doesn't cut it anymore,"

NBC News correspondent Maria Shriver, the mother of four--Katherine, 13, Christina, 12, Patrick, 10, and Christopher, 6--agrees with Ellerbee: "But Moms aren't using the TV as a babysitter because they're out getting manicures!" says the 48-year-old anchor.

"Those mothers are struggling to make ends meet and they do it because they need help. I don't think kids would be watching [as much TV] if their parents were home organizing a touch football game.

"When I need the TV as a babysitter," says Shriver, who leaves detailed TV- viewing instructions behind when traveling, "I put on a safe video. I don't mind that my kids have watched "Pretty Woman" or "My Best Friend's Wedding" 3,000 times. I'd be more fearful if they watched an hour of local news.That would scare them. They might feel: 'Oh, my God, is somebody going to come in and shoot me in my bedroom?'"

In a move to supervise her own children more closely since her husband, Arnold Schwarzenegger, became Governor, Shriver scaled back her workload as Contributing Anchor to Dateline NBC and set up her office at home: "You can never be vigilant enough with your kids," she says, "because watching violence on TV clearly has a huge impact on children--whether it's TV news, movies, or cartoons."

This view is shared by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, which states: ""TV is a powerful influence in developing value systems and shaping behavior...studies find that children may become immune to the horror of violence; gradually accept violence as a way to solve problems; and resort to anti-social and aggressive behavior, imitating the violence they observe."

Although there are no rules about watching TV in 49% of the nation's households, TV-watching at the Schwarzenegger home is almost totally verboten:

"We have a blanket rule that my kids do not watch any TV at all during the week," she notes, "and having a TV in their bedrooms has never been an option. I have enough trouble getting them to do their homework!" she states with a laugh. "Plus the half hour of reading they have to do every night.

According to the Kaiser survey, Shriver's household is a glaring exception to the rule. "Many kids have their own TV's, VCR's and video games in their bedroom," the study notes. Moreover, children ages 8-18 actually spend an average of three hours and 16 minutes watching TV daily; only 44 minutes reading; 31 minutes using the computer; 27 minutes playing video games; and a mere 13 minutes using the Internet.

"My kids," Shriver explains, "get home at 4 p.m., have a 20-minute break, then go right into homework or after-school sports. Then, I'm a big believer in having family dinner time. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting at the dinner table and listening to my parents, four brothers, and my grandmother, Rose. We didn't watch the news.

"After dinner nowadays, we play a game, then my kids are in bed, reading their books. There's no time in that day for any TV, except on weekends, when they're allowed to watch a Disney video, Sesame Street, Barney, The Brady Bunch, or Pokemon."

Beyond safe entertainment, Shriver has eliminated entirely the option of her children watching news events unfolding live on TV: "My kids," she notes, "do not watch any TV news, other than Nick News," instead providing her children with Time for Kids, [Teen Newsweek is also available], Highlights, and newspaper clippings discussed over dinner.

"No subject should be off-limits," Shriver concludes, "but you must filter the news to your kids."

ABC's Peter Jennings, who reigns over "World News Tonight," the nation's most-watched evening newscast, emphatically disagrees with a censored approach to news-watching: "I have two kids--Elizabeth is now 24 and Christopher is 21-- and they were allowed to watch as much TV news and information anytime they wanted," says the anchor. A firm believer in kids understanding the world around them, he adapted his bestselling book, The Century, for children ages 10 and older in The Century for Young People.

No downside to kids watching news? "I don't know of any downside and I've thought about it many times. I used to worry about my kids' exposure to violence and overt sex in the movies. Like most parents, I found that although they were exposed to violence sooner than I would have liked, I don't feel they've been affected by it. The jury's still out on the sex.

"I have exposed my kids to the violence of the world--to the bestiality of man--from the very beginning, at age 6 or 7. I didn't try to hide it. I never worried about putting a curtain between them and reality, because I never felt my children would be damaged by being exposed to violence IF they understood the context in which it occurred. I would talk to my kids about the vulnerability of children in wartime--the fact that they are innocent pawns-- and about what we could do as a family to make the world a more peaceful place.

Jennings firmly believes that coddling children is a mistake: "I've never talked down to my children, or to children period. I always talk UP to them and my newscast is appropriate for children of any age."

Yet the 65-year-old anchor often gets letters from irate parents: "They'll say: 'How dare you put that on at 6:30 when my children are watching?' My answer is: 'Madam, that's not my problem. That's YOUR problem. It's absolutely up to the parent to monitor the flow of news into the home."

Part of directing this flow is turning it off altogether at meal-time, says Jennings, who believes family dinners are sacrosanct. He is appalled that the TV is turned on during meals in 58% of the nation's households, this according to the Kaiser study.

"Watching TV during dinner is unforgivable," he exclaims, explaining that he always insisted that his family wait until he arrived home from anchoring the news. "You're darn right they waited...even when my kids were tiny, they never ate until 7:30 or 8 pm. Then we would sit with no music, no TV. Why waste such a golden opportunity? Watching TV at mealtime robs the family of the essence of the dinner, which is communion and exchange of ideas. I mean, God, if the dinner table is anything, it's a place to learn manners and appreciation for two of the greatest things in life--food and drink."

Jennings is likewise unequivocal in his view of junk TV and believes parking kids at the tube creates dull minds: "I think using TV as a babysitter is a terrible idea because the damn television is very narcotic, drug-like. Mindless TV makes for passive human beings--and it's a distraction from homework!

"My two children were allowed to watch only a half an hour of entertainment TV per night--and they never had TV's in their bedrooms.It's a conscious choice I made as a parent not to tempt them...too seductive..."

Adds Ellerbee: "TV is seductive and is meant to be. The hard, clear fact is that when kids are watching TV, they're not doing anything else!"

Indeed, according to the National Institute on Out-of-School Time and the Office of Research Education Consumer Guide, TV plays a bigger role in children's lives now than ever before. Kids watch TV an average of14 to 22 hours per week, which accounts for at least 25 percent of their free time.

"Dateline NBC" Anchor Jane Pauley, intensely private, declined an interview to discuss how she and her husband, cartoonist Garry Trudeau ("Doonesbury") handle TV-watching with their three teens, two of whom are fraternal twins. But in a written response, she agreed that kids need to be better protected from the onslaught of violence: "I was a visitor at a public elementary school not long ago, and was invited to peek in on a fourth-grade class on 'current events.' The assignment had been to watch the news and write about one of the stories. Two kids picked the fatal attack on a child by a pit bull and the other wrote about a child who'd hanged herself with a belt! They'd all watched the worst blood and gore 'News at 11' station in town. The teacher gave no hint that she was as appalled as I was. My response was to help the school get subscriptions to "Time for Kids" and "My Weekly Reader." People need to be better news consumers. And tabloid TV is very unhealthy for kids."

On this point, Ellerbee readily agrees:"I really do believe the first amendment STOPS at your front door. You are the boss at home and parents have every right to monitor what their kids watch. What's even better is watching with them and initiating conversations about what they see.If your child is watching something terribly violent, sit down and DEFUSE it. Talking makes the ghosts run...and kids can break through their scared feelings."

Adds Pauly:

"Kids," she maintains, "know about bad news--they're the ones trying to spare us the bad news sometimes. But kids should be able to see that their parents are both human enough to be deeply affected by a tragedy like Columbine, but also sturdy enough to get through it...and on with life. That is the underpinning of their security."

"I'm no expert on the nation's children," adds Jennings, " but I'd have to say no, it wasn't traumatic. Troubling, shocking, even devastating to some, confusing to others, but traumatizing in that great sense, no.

"Would I explain to my kids that there are young, upset, angry, depressed kids in the world? Yes. I hear the most horrendous stories about what's going on in high schools from my kids. And because of the shootings, parents are now on edge--pressuring educators to 'do something.' They have to be reminded that the vast majority of all schools in America are overwhelmingly safe," a fact borne out by The National School Safety Center, which reports that in l998 there were just 25 violent deaths in schools compared to an average of 50 in the early 90's.

Ellerbee adds that a parent's ability to listen is more important than lobbying school principals for more metal detectors and armed guards: "If there was ever a case where grown-ups weren't listening to kids, it was Littleton. First, don't interrupt your child...let them get the whole thought out. Next, if you sit silently for a couple of seconds after they're finished, they'll start talking again, getting to a second level of honesty. Third, try to be honest with your kid. To very small children, it's proper to say: 'This is never going to happen to you...' But you don't say that to a 10-year-old."

Moreover, Ellerbee believes that media literacy begins the day parents stop pretending that if you ignore TV, it will go away. "Let your kid know from the very beginning that he or she is SMARTER than TV: 'I am in control of this box, it is not in control of me. I will use this box as a useful, powerful TOOL, but will not be used by it.' Kids know the difference.

"Watching TV," Ellerbee maintains, "can makes kids more civilized. I grew up in the south of Texas in a family of bigoted people. Watching TV made me question my own family's beliefs in the natural inferiority of people of color. For me, TV was a real window that broadened my world."

Ironically, for Shriver, watching TV news is incredibly painful when the broadcast is about you. Being a Kennedy, Shriver has lived a lifetime in the glare of rumors and televised speculation about her own family. Presenting the news to her children has therefore included explaining the tragedies and controversies the Kennedys have endured. She was just eight years old when her uncle, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated: "I grew up in a very big shadow...and I couldn't avoid it," she admits. "It wasn't a choker, but it was a big responsibility that I don't want my own children to feel." Yet doesn't her 15- year marriage to megastar Schwarzenegger add yet another layer of public curiosity close to home? "My kids are not watching Entertainment Tonight--no, no, never! And I don't bring them to movie openings or Planet Hollywood. I think it's fine for them to be proud of their father, but not show off about him."

How does she emotionally handle news when her family's in it? "That's a line I've been walking since my own childhood, and it's certainly effected the kind of reporter I've become. It's made me less aggressive. I'm not [in the news business] to glorify myself at someone else's expense, but rather to report a story without destroying someone in the process. A producer might say: 'Call this person who's in a disastrous situation and book them right way.' And I'm like: 'Ahhhh. I can't even bring myself to do it,' because I've been on the other side and know the family is in such pain."

A few years ago, of course, the Kennedys experienced profound pain, yet again, when Shriver's beloved cousin, John F. Kennedy, Jr., was killed in a plane crash, with his wife, Carolyn, and sister-in-law, Lauren Bessette. A blizzard of news coverage ensued, unremitting for weeks. "I didn't watch any of it...I was busy, " Shriver says quietly. "And my children didn't watch any of it either."

Shriver was, however, somewhat prepared to discuss the tragedy with her children. She is the author of the best-selling "What's Heaven?" [Golden Books], a book geared for children ages 4-8, which explains death and the loss of a loved one. "My children knew John well because he spent Christmases with us. I explained what happened to John as the news unfolded...walked them through it as best I could. I reminded them that Mommy wrote the book and said: 'We're not going to see John anymore. He has gone to God...to heaven...and we have to pray for him and for his sister [Caroline] and her children."

Like Shriver, Jennings is personally uncomfortable in the role of covering private tragedies in a public forum: "In my shop, I'm regarded as one of those people who drags their feet a lot at the notion of covering those things," he explains. "During the O.J. Simpson trial, I decided not to go crazy in our coverage--and we took quite a smack and dropped from first to second in the ratings. TV is a business, so when a real corker of a story like Princess Diana's death comes along, we cover it. I think we're afraid not to do it. We're guilty of overkill, and with Diana, we ended up celebrating something that was largely ephemeral, making Diana more than she was. But audiences leap up!

"I was totally opposed to covering John F. Kennedy, Jr.'s funeral, because I saw no need to do it. He wasn't a public figure, though others would say I was wrong. On-air, I said: 'I don't think the young Mr. Kennedy would approve of all this excess...' But we did three hours on the funeral and it turned out to be a wonderful long history lesson about American politics and the Kennedy dynasty's place in our national life.

"Sometimes," Jennings muses, "TV is like a chapel in which we, as a nation, can gather to have a communal experience of loss.We did it with the Challenger, more recently with JFK Jr.'s death and we will do it shortly, I suspect, though I hope not, with Ronald Reagan. It's not much different than what people did when they went West in covered wagons in the last century. When tragedy struck, they gathered the wagons around, lit the fire, and talked about their losses of the day. And then went on. Television can be very comforting."

In closing, Ellerbee contends that you can't blame TV news producers for the human appetite for sensational news coverage that often drags on for days at a time:

"As a reporter," she muses, "I have never been to a war, traffic accident, or murder site that didn't draw a crowd. There is a little trash in all of us. But the same people who stop to gawk at a traffic accident, may also climb down a well to save a child's life, or cry at a sunset, or grin and tap their feet when the parade goes by.

"We are NOT just one thing. Kids can understand these grays...just as there's more than one answer to a question, there is certainly more than one part to you!"

[clexa--warrior]

Hey, Have You Heard About This Coronavirus Thing? Crazy Shit, Right? (Ferret/Shower Cap)

History texts depicting this period will read like deranged Choose Your Adventure books written by sadists; no matter how frantically you flip backwards, you just can’t seem to find the page when you still had the option to vote for the really smart lady with the email server. Anyway, join me for a quick news round-up, it won’t take long, and when we’re done, I give you permission to run away to join a roving Thai monkey street gang.

(As always, find this post WITH nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/hey-have-you-heard-about-this-coronavirus-thing-crazy-shit-right/)

For those of you just waking up from a Rip Van Winkle nap, the United States is facing a massive, coast-to-coast, health crisis, whose tragic consequences have exploded exponentially because our Idiot Manchild President really believed, in that churning campground septic tank he calls a mind, that protecting his personal approval ratings by understating the problem was more important than the health and safety of the American public. I don’t know what you can call that but murder. On the one hand, it’s weird to say “wow, the President murdered a bunch Americans through boneheaded, unforgivably selfish, neglect,” but we already saw him get away with precisely that crime in Puerto Rico, so here we are.

Now, I have come to expect malice from the federal government under Hairplug Himmler, but sometimes their capacity for raw, senseless, evil still shocks me. This is my way of saying that, until they got fucking caught, the Department of, and Someone Should Slap the Word Out of Their Filthy Mouths, Justice attempted to remove CDC fliers offering potentially life-saving information regarding the coronavirus from...immigration courtrooms. My God. What a small but potent horror. Feels like the work of an ambitious intern in Stephen Miller’s office, doesn’t it? Trying to impress the boss? Just a sinister little trick, to spread a little more pain, a little more misery, a little more death in an already vulnerable, and whatta-coincidence-nonwhite, community? Fuck these awful, awful, people.

It seems President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been calling up leading Taliban terrorists on a secret U.S. kill-or-capture list, presumably to trade tips n’ tricks on how to undermine the USA at home and abroad. Now, negotiating with these murderous dirtbags is a big diplomacy no-no (and of course Donnie Dotard got rolled anyway) but in all honestly, if I had access to a secret kill list contact sheet, I’d probably give in to the temptation to make some prank calls. “Is your refrigerator running? Yeah? Are you sure it’s not a FLEET OF DRONES ABOVE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

For Jeff Sessions, the wages of sin turned out to be a faceful of Trump-branded fecal matter, as the Candycorn Skidmark, whose campaign Ol’ Beauregard embraced way back before fascism was cool in conservative circles, endorsed his opponent in the coming Alabama Senate runoff. How must it feel to have been the very fellow who flipped the switch on the Rube Goldberg/Mousetrap Board Game device that destroyed America, and to watch the machine work its destructive magic for years, only to realize it’s also got one special crotch punt in store for just you personally. I’d feel bad for Bilbo Bigot, if it he weren’t, y’know, one of the very worst people alive.

Alex Jones got arrested for drunk driving, and, upon his release, got right back to work selling...sigh...selling some bullshit toothpaste that he’s telling the rubes magically cures the coronavirus. Authorities are cracking down on Jones and fellow charlatan Jim Bakker over their odious snake oil peddling enterprises, but I don’t know what’s more shocking and disappointing to me, that there are such vile fuckwads in the world, who seek to profit off the fear of the misinformed during times of crisis, or that said fuckwads have so many blind, willing, disciples?

Speaking of fuckwads, Ron Johnson seems to have backed down, for now at any rate, from his quest to stage a show trial for Hunter Biden in the U.S Senate. And that’s awesome and all, but never forget how ready, how eager, RoJo has been, to corruptly manipulate the vast powers of the government for his democracy-stomping Turdlord’s political benefit. Ron is the kind of fellow you’d have found stamping documents outside trains bound for Dachau.

But yeah, I suppose the big story is still that coronavirus thing. Great choice on evolution’s part, the way symptoms don’t necessarily manifest right away, so we can spread that shit around without knowing we’re even infected. Anyway, I made sure to thoroughly disinfect tonight’s blog before posting, and medical professionals inform me that though the virus can linger on plastic and metal surfaces for as long as days, it cannot survive on a poo joke, so please rest easy, knowing you can safely consume this content in comfort. Unless you're reading it next to somebody with the coronavirus, but that's on you, kid.

The Shart Administration has actually slowed progress in this crucial fight, by classifying high-level coronavirus meetings, because they’re more worried about congressional oversight of their crimes n’ fuckups than they are about OUR LIVES, and y’know what, I do believe I’ll be voting Democrat this November.

And of course, many conservatives are more concerned with blaming the virus on the Chinese than preventing its spread; by gum, there’s no need to abandon yer principles, even when your ineptitude is getting countless folks sick and/or killed! “We may be a cabal of dangerously incompetent assclowns, but let none forget that we are also RACIST assclowns!”

With the stock market finally catching up to the rest of the world in noticing a pudding-brained twit had inexplicably been placed in charge of the most powerful nation in history, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot oozed into the Oval Office for a prime time speech, and if his goal was “fuck up the entire world as much as humanly possible in ten short minutes,” then he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings.

It was a speech that completely failed to reassure, instead reminding the world that this drooling manbaby, this bathtub drain hair clog in an ill-fitting suit, truly is President of the Entire United Fucking States, and not only is he light years out of his element but he’s probably spending most of his time practicing his “the world is ending, you have to go out with me now” phone call to Salma Hayek rather than pursuing desperately-needed solutions.

Despite being on teleprompter, with the text of the fucking speech right fucking in front of him, Dorito Mussolini somehow managed to catastrophically misrepresent his own administration’s policies, dropping one more cartoon anvil on the stock market’s already-throughly-bludgeoned ballsack. This is, of course, on top of nonsensical non-solutions like banning travel from Europe, when the virus had already had weeks to spread throughout the country thanks to presidential bungling and neglect.

For 73 years, this cretin has somehow never encountered a problem he couldn’t lie, buy, or bully his way out of, but COVID-19 doesn’t care how much money your daddy gave you, little man. And may I say, on behalf of the thousands who are about to become sick, fuck you. Fuck you eternally with a rusty shovel, for daring to take on such an important job without the skills, temperament, or character to execute its duties. Asshole.

In contrast, Smilin’ Joe Biden gave a speech of his own; calm, collected, solemn, and filled with concrete steps to address the problems facing the nation. And America collectively went, “Oh right, it’s actually highly abnormal to have a gibbering, rectum-mouthed, dolt for a President, and we can actually have a decent, competent, one again! Soon!” It was like leadership porn. I got aroused.

Meanwhile, our already-hopelessly-overmatched Golf Cheat in Chief is multitasking, lobbing missiles at Iran-backed militias in Iraq. I’m just hoping the buttons on his desk are clearly labeled, y’know? Or at least that there’s somebody hanging around who can tackle him before he bombs Seattle and launches 500 respirators at Tehran.

So, um, in the midst of this once-in-generation shitstorm, I guess Sarah Palin dressed up in a bear suit to perform “Baby Got Back” on a reality television program. I’m not a religious person, honestly, but I’m increasingly open to the idea that there is a God, and that s/he’s been on a meth bender since mid-2016.

Social distancing is the zany new anti-dance craze sweeping the nation as we all do our damndest to not get sick and die! As a result, public gatherings are getting called off left and right. March Madness, MLB, NBA, PGA, SXSW, Broadway...personally, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scope of this crisis until I saw the XFL shut down their season. Like, are we even America anymore without one billionaire’s sad attempt to reboot his once-failed vanity project?

As sensible organizations all over the world made painful but obviously necessary sacrifices to, y’know, slow the spread of a deadly disease and save lives, naturally the Velveeta Vulgarian was among the last holdouts, canceling his precious hate rallies only grudgingly, because the safety of even his own fervent base is secondary to the sugar rush of their rageful cheers, filling, if only for a moment, that empty space within him where most people have a soul.

Now more than ever, I am brimming over with gratitude that we took the House back in 2018. Thank god there’s a little leadership, a little accountability, a little common frickin’ sense in Washington now. And thank god for Katie Porter, one of the standouts in a freshman class packed with absolute ass-kickers, cornering the CDC chief into exercising his legal authority to make coronavirus testing free for every American. Imagine if Kevin McCarthy were running the House right now. He’d be fleeing from reporters, in mismatched loafers, trying to sell the public on a bill bailing out nothing but Trump University and Marm-a-Lago.

Well, the Emperor of Hemorrhoids finally buckled and declared (acknowledged) a state of emergency over the coronavirus, which is admittedly a pleasant change from his previous “do everything I possibly can to help the fucker spread” position. We’re still woefully behind, and god only knows how deeply the virus has penetrated while the doddering old bastard diddled and dawdled, but the good news is, the President of the United States finally moved his bloated ass out of the road so we can get to work cleaning up his mess, which is, I suppose, as close to an act of kindness as he’s come in his entire misspent, treacherous, life.

In the middle of today’s press conference, Vice President Mike Pants paused to give Boss Turdworm a rhetorical handjob seemingly designed to last through an entire 14-day quarantine. Jeeeeesus. Mikey Hairshirt was a man once. Not much of one, to be certain, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of bored schoolchildren pouring salt on him, which would of course prove swiftly fatal in his current state.

A reporter asked Government Cheese Goebbels, “Hey, if you’re not too busy fellating yourself over fucking up slightly less than you’ve been fucking up for weeks, why the fuck did you close down the pandemic office, you nation-wrecking clod?” and he whinged that the question was “nasty,” before reiterating his refusal to take responsibility for the things that are, objectively, his fault. I truly do not understand how this trembling coward’s approval rating isn’t 0%

So Nancy Pelosi spent the week trying to hammer out an emergency bill with Steve Mnuchin, but Republicans naturally balked at many necessary measures. It’s a tricky spot for the GOP; they can’t risk the mass-extermination of the underpaid labor/consumer force that keeps their donor class filthy rich, but doing anything to improve working folks’ lives is just instinctually anathematic to them. But at the time of posting, it does appear as though a deal has been reached, let’s hope no spray-tanned morons fuck it up, right?

In conclusion, I am sick of typing the word “coronavirus,” and you are sick of reading it, so let’s let’s all retreat to our quarantines for the weekend, okay? Enjoy the solitude! Read that novel you bought back in college! Watch that 425-minute Russian film set in a fish cannery! Hey, you can even peruse the archives at showercapblog.com if you feel like reliving just how the fuck it all came to this! Anyway, if you don’t hear from me for a bit, fear not, I’m turning production of this blog over to Jared Kushner, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.

[meyerlansky]

idk if you've elaborated on meyer and charlie getting together because charlie gets jealous of plot device!jimmy but if you haven't would you want to?

I HAVEN'T YET but i would in fact love to because this is a fave of mine :D so in addition to the stuff in that one post, @goatsandgangsters and i routinely spitball a modern au verse that we affectionately call "loser au" in which team ny is... kind of losers. they still come from disadvantaged backgrounds and they still do like petty crime shit, but because the landscape of organized crime and law enforcement is way different in the early 21st century than it was in the early 20th century, they don't manage to break into Big Stuff and rake in the big bucks

all this is to say that, in my head, the "jimmy+meyer leads to jealous charlie leads to meyer/charlie get together" set up is like a branch off loser au? so like jimmy goes to one of the Prestige Colleges in NYC, columbia or nyu or city college or something, and meyer is maaaybe enrolled in one of the two-year programs in the cuny system? but he hangs out in the studenty areas of whatever Prestige College jimmy goes to [and tbh the three of them probably sell prescription drugs to college students on those campuses—meyer passes as a serious scholarly student extremely easily, benny definitely has a script for adderall or something that he Does Not Take, and charlie has other Supply Connections] and SOMEHOW he and jimmy start talking about whatever nightmare american novel meyer is reading for fun at the same time as jimmy's us lit survey assigned it as a reading, this is why jimmy is just a plot device, i haven't put a lot of thought into his school shit because he's just there to be mostly-no-homo-heart-eyes in meyer's direction

which never happens

charlie and benny are the charming ones, meyer doesn't go looking for outside attention and isn't really used to being on the receiving end of it, but like. benny has not read faulkner and would reply to anything meyer had to say about his work with "more like FUCKner, amirite?" frank has read more than charlie or benny, but frank is also Old and tries to diffuse meyer's annoyance with the Great American Novel in a productive way so he's no fun to argue with. and charlie wouldn't want to listen to meyer tear steinbeck apart. [that's what meyer thinks, anyway. for the record, charlie absolutely would listen to meyer's rant about steinbeck's boner for The Dignity Of Poverty for HOURS, but meyer is pining and dumb and doesn't realize charlie's ALSO pining and has had yes-homo-heart-eyes for meyer since they were kids. but meyer doesn't know this yet, so he just Assumes charlie would be bored by it.]

so meyer is like "okay fine i will debate you, random doughboy, and i will destroy your argument" and he and jimmy definitely debate and meyer definitely wins, but he also enjoys the conversation, so like. they talk more, whenever they run into each other and meyer's not working a shift at the mechanic's garage he does legit and not-legit work at, etc, and eventually meyer's like "oh i have plans" when charlie's like "hey let's hang out" one night

and charlie's like "................what plans. you never have plans. all you do is study and strip cars for parts and hang out with me and benny. what plans."

and meyer's like "my plans are in fact studying, just not alone for once, it's a revolutionary concept, i know"

and charlie's like "oh. okay. with who."

and meyer's like "just a guy i met on columbia's campus"

and charlie's like "WHAT FUCKING GUY >:[" but only in his head because meyer's good at hiding when he's ticked off from most people but not from charlie and charlie can tell he's getting Annoyed, so he leaves it

and so it goes, for like a month? a few months? an indeterminate length of time, during which charlie at some point is like "hey let me come hang out with you and sell the drugs" but he sells no drugs, instead he Assesses jimmy when they run into him and meYER HAS? INSIDE JOKES??? WITH THIS RANDOM DUDE???????? SURE THEY'RE ABOUT HEMINGWAY, WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT IS, BUT FUCKING STILL. HOW DARE.

jimmy and charlie Immediately Do Not Get Along, Obviously, and it doesn't help that charlie has deeply sublimated Anxieties wrt, like. MANY things about being bi, as well as specifically about having a crush on meyer, but jimmy in particular inflames his insecurities about being a high school dropout and not being smart enough for meyer, who's definitely gonna Do Things and Be Someone because he is so smart [nevermind that meyer doesn't wanna do things, not legal things, because the system is fucked and he's already making plenty enough to do more than survive with their illegal shit, and also he knows charlie's smart in not-school ways]

so charlie is on the offensive which means meyer's on the defensive for basically the first time since they beat each other up and called a cease-fire, and jimmy's just like "i have no idea what's going on here but meyer are we gonna talk shit about fitzgerald's tiny dick or not" and meyer's like "YES LET'S i'll see you later charlie" and charlie's like >:[ externally but ;_; internally

and i dunno how long things are kind of tense and weird, but charlie's upset meyer's hanging out with someone else, meyer's upset charlie's getting nasty about one of the ONLY TIMES EVER someone outside their friend group has wanted to talk to/hang out with him more, and at some point they have A Fight in which charlie probably says something like "so, what, do you wanna fuck him or what" as meyer's getting ready to leave for another goddamn ~*study date*~

and meyer

who has zero intention of fucking jimmy, but who has watched charlie cope with the crush meyer doesn't know about yet by fucking his way through the list of girls their age in the neighborhood and probably one or two of the guys, and therefore absolutely cannot be convinced that charlie has ANY say about where meyer chooses to put his dick

Is Not Happy

he is, in fact, Big Mad

which means he goes ice cold and there is a very tiny voice in the back of charlie's head, which sounds alarmingly like benny, screaming "OHHH YOU DONE DONE IT NOW" but before he can do anything about it meyer's like "in what world is that any of your business"

and charlie, with what is in his head unassailable logic, goes "of fucking course it's my business, meyer"

and meyer, who is getting icier by the second, is like "please, explain this in a way that WON'T result in me ripping your face off with my fingernails"

and charlie, not that he's wrong, is like "he's not good enough for you meyer"

and meyer is somewhere very deep down kind of touched but mostly still angry and is like "once again, explain to me how this is your business at all"

and because charlie has a deeply flawed brain-to-mouth filter at the best of times, much less when he's distressed by the thought of meyer getting railed by someone who is not him, he is like "it's my business because i don't want you to kiss anyone but me okay"

and meyer, who fully BSODs with that comment and whose autopilot mode is labeled "bitch," is like "well i didn't want you to fuck every broad between hester and 12th for the last five years, and yet here we are"

and charlie's like "wut"

and meyer's like "wut"

and after like two minutes of silence in which they both process what just got said, charlie's like "i'm gonna kiss you now. please don't punch me."

and meyer's like "no promises" because he's still in BSOD'ed bitch mode

and then they make out

and seven miles away in one of columbia's study rooms jimmy is like "huh meyer's never been late before, that's kinda weird"

[he's late because charlie's got him pressed into his ratty-ass sofa and charlie's bottom lip between his teeth]

[subtlesunflow3r]

Unintended Consequences of Strict Drug Laws

By: Victoria Bartholomew 

Everyone knows that you live life dealing with the consequences of your own actions, whether good or bad. Everything that you do has a consequence to it, even if it is a good consequence. However, majority of people automatically associate the negative connotation of consequence when they encounter that word.  

Though consequences can be either good or bad, they can also be unintended. Sounds kind of odd right? Hear me out and think about it in the sense of strict parents. Having parents that love and care for you is essential for having a good upbringing. Your parents think they are doing what is best for you by being harsher with their punishments as well having full control and restricting a lot of things that other parents allow their kids to do. Things like go to parties or stay the night at friends' houses on weekdays. Things that are so normal for some, are exotic adventures for others.

Now I am sure you are thinking, “okay well what does this have to do with unintended consequences?” and that is where it becomes interesting. If a teenager lives under stricter rules in their household, then it can cause them to become rebellious and sneaky, causing them to lie in order to get what they want. Strict parents seem to create some of the sneakiest kids. 

You might be wondering if I am stating this from personal experience, and all I can say to that is its entirely up to your imagination.  

Which leads me to my next point, having strict parents causes unintended consequences and so does having strict drug laws. What you may or may not know is that the stricter the drug laws, the harder the war on drugs becomes.  

However, what is the war on drugs and how do strict drug laws, unintended consequences and this war all tie together? Glad you asked, let’s get into it, then shall we?  

War On Drugs- A Little History  

All the facts presented to you can be found at https://www.drugpolicy.org/issues/brief-history-drug-war 

We are the Drug Policy Alliance.  

Did you know that a lot of current illegal drugs have been used for thousands of years for different purposes? Did they ever teach you in school about how cocaine used to be commonly used by dentist as an anesthetic for their patients?  

I remember learning about that story in high school as well as college. However, drugs such as cocaine and marijuana, psychedelics and opium became illegal over time and are all currently illegal except for medicinal use of marijuana in some states.

According to We are the Drug Policy Alliance  

All the fact in this next segment can be found at https://www.drugpolicy.org/issues/brief-history-drug-war

In the early 1900’s the first anti-cocaine law was put into place. This law was directed towards African American men within the South and in the 1910’s as well as 20’s anti-marijuana laws were created within the Midwest as well as Southwest.  

This new law was directed towards Mexican migrants as well as Mexican Americans. These drug laws were all target to races that were not Caucasian, which has portrayed this idea of drug laws being directed towards minority groups mostly.  

All fact credit goes to https://www.drugpolicy.org/issues/brief-history-drug-war We are the Drug Policy Alliance.  

Did you know that President Nixon was the individual who declared the war on drugs? Me either, but it happened in June of 1971.  

According to the We are the Drug Policy Alliance President Nixon took drastic measures when he declared the war on drugs. He increased law enforcement efforts to have a higher presence of the federal drug control agencies as well as pushing for no-knock warrants as well as mandatory sentences. However, he was advised that marijuana possession and distribution for personal uses should be decriminalized but he did not care too much for that recommendation.  

Over time there was a period when states started to decriminalize marijuana possession, but just as soon as that started, it ended. Parents started to become very concerned with the number of young teens that were using marijuana and the law shifted back to focusing on making marijuana illegal. By the 1980’s and 90’s incarceration rates to skyrocket due to the enlargement of the drug war.

At this time Ronald Reagan was in this term, and within his presidency it stated the long period of increased incarceration rates that lead to over 400,000 individuals to be put behind bars for nonviolent drug offenses according to Betsy Pearl. This created the notion for the zero tolerance policies within the mid-to-late 1980’s and programs such as Dare were implement and quickly adopted throughout America, even with there being deficiency of any evidence that it was in any way effective.

The information that I have given by Betsy Pearl can be supported at  

https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/criminal-justice/reports/2018/06/27/452819/ending-war-drugs-numbers/

With drugs laws being so strict, it seemed to create more problems than it solved in terms of the war on drugs.  

Why Is This a Big Deal? Don’t We Have More Important Things to Worry About?  

A lot of issues arise when it comes to the war on drugs, a lot of them are obvious right off the back, while others tend to get look over. It is no secret at this point that most people have caught onto the racial disparities within the judicial system, not just in terms of the war on drugs.  

It gets portrayed within the media when there are cases of police brutality as well as shows about death row and the individuals who swear they were wrongly accused of the crime. This same issue arises when dealing with the war on drugs, because it seems that the laws seem to coincide with racial disparities.  

It is no secret that African American men are more likely than Caucasian men to get arrested for drug-related charges. This sadly might not surprise a lot of people; it might honestly not surprise anyone really.  

So why is this a big deal? It is a big deal because it disproportionately puts individuals behind bars and treats one group unfairly to such a miserable extent. The judicial system receives a lot of backlash when it comes to funding, because people do not understand the real cost of jails and prisons.  

There is an overall bias when it comes to drug users and jails. As I have learned over my four years of college, many people want to get these individuals off the streets and just let them rot in jail. People do not care to look at just how much of an impact this has on society not only socially, but also economically.  

What individuals might not realize is that it cost the hard-working taxpayers more money to keep people in jail.  Besty Pearl stated that in 2015 it was found that the federal government spent $9.2 million dollars a day just to keep people with drug-related charges locked up.  

You can read more about what Betsy Pearl has to say about all of this in the following link.  

https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/criminal-justice/reports/2018/06/27/452819/ending-war-drugs-numbers/

Even without having to do the math of how much that would cost the American people annually, it comes out to a ridiculously massive number.  

Do you remember how early I talked about these “unintended consequences”? Well the annual cost for the American people is one of those unintended consequences caused from the war on drugs. The government, when they started the war on drugs, did not intend for the increase in drug-related arrest to cause a financial burden on the hard-working taxpayers.  

However, it is a very heavy financial burden, as well as does nothing to help with reduction of substance abuse and misuse. If anything, according to Betsy Pear, it has been linked with increased overdoses for individuals once they are released from jail. This is another unintentional consequence to strict drug laws and the war on drugs. It was never the government's intention for individuals to have higher risks of dying once they are released from prison for drug-related charges.  

It is just something that came out of what seemed like a promising end to a drug crisis. The governments intentions were to get drugs off the streets and reduce the rate of crime caused by drugs, but it seems that instead it only created more problems.  

So, What Does It All Mean? What are all the unintended consequences?

It might strike you as confusing when trying to decipher what all of this is supposed to mean. What I am trying to explain is that having strict drug laws is not an effective way to reduce drug-related crime and only causes more issues than it fixes. It gives police a gateway to racial profiling and gives minorities unfair advantages within a court of law.

It causes higher incarceration rates for crimes that are not nearly as dangerous or threatening. It increases drug related crime since people can not report any actions taken against them to authorities. It keeps the black market running, since more serious drug users will do what they need to get their fix. These are all consequences I would hope that the government never intended to happen when trying to reduce the drug use in America.

References

1.“A Brief History of the Drug War.” Drug Policy Alliance. Accessed May 9, 2020.                                                         https://www.drugpolicy.org/issues/brief-history-drug-war.

2.Pearl, Betsy. “Ending the War on Drugs: By the Numbers.” Center for American Progress. Accessed May 9, 2020. https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/criminal-justice/reports/2018/06/27/452819/ending-war-drugs-numbers/.

3. “Drug Policy.” Criminal Justice Policy Foundation. Accessed May 9, 2020.                                                           https://www.cjpf.org/drug-policy.

[the--blackdahlia]

Armageddon Chapter 17 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 17

Summary:  Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: angst, tears

Song for this chapter: Mama I'm Coming Home by Ozzy Osbourne

The world seemed to erupt in cheers from all over. The Americans had done something right and saved the planet. There were celebrations and cheers given out. Except for two places. The space shuttle that was heading back home, and the men in women in Mission Control.

“S-Sam…” Jessica whispered. She handed Ashton to (Y/n) then ran to throw up in a trash can. (Y/n) looked over at John. He hadn’t said anything since Sam’s audio was cut. And he hadn’t really moved since the explosion was confirmed and the asteroid halves started a trek around the planet. There would still be smaller rock fragments hitting the earth, but nothing like what could’ve been.

“John?” (Y/n) asked. “John, are you okay?”

“I want to be the first to reach Dean when they land,” John rasped. “If that’s ok with you, I need to make sure he knows that it’s not his fault… it has to come from me.”

(Y/n) looked into John’s eyes and sniffed, “Of course, John, yes.” she nodded still holding on to Ashton. “Besides, by the time he gets to me i’m going to kick his ass for scaring us like that.” she muttered.

John gave a sad chuckled, “yeah you are definitely good for him (Y/n).” John took Ashton from her so she could help Jessica.

As John held his grandson he could feel his heart break. Everything he could have done, all the time he could have helped Sam more. The times he could have Dean with him to help Sam. He began taking deep breaths to calm down. Nothing was going to be the same. He had lost a son, but he still had one who was coming home to be a husband and father. John motioned to Charlie.

“Here, take him for a bit while I help the girls out,” He muttered as he passed off the sleepy Ashton to her. “He sleeps just like Sam when Sam was that age, nothing could ever wake him up,” John chuckled sadly.  He walked up to the two women who were now hugging each other.

“Charlie has got kiddo, lets go, He’s going to be in Sam’s old astronaut dorm, Jess looks like she needs a drink,” He looked to (Y/n), “Sorry (Y/n/n) none for you but we are going to wait for the rest of our boys to come home.

John led the girls to his truck where he opened up his cooler full of beer. He handed a beer to Jess, and a bottle of water to (Y/n).

“Ok, we are going to celebrate Sam… we are going to laugh and cry and tell stories and when Dean comes back, we are going to make sure he knows that he is not only the best son a father could have, but… A good man to his lovely fiance, a wonderful uncle, and he is going to be one hell of a father, way better than me.”

The trio lifted up their bottles as they proceeded to tell stories that night waiting for the crew to come home.

****************

The next day (noon)...

Kennedy Space Center landing strip.

John, (Y/n), Jessica, and Ashton were all standing together as the shuttle came into view. Jessica couldn’t stop the tears from falling, knowing that Sam wasn’t in the group. (Y/n) rubbed her back.

“It’s okay.” She whispered. Soon, the shuttle was parked and everyone was climbing out. People ran to them, to hug them and congratulate them. John saw Dean then and made his way towards him.

“Dad...I…” Dean said as he saw his dad. But instead of saying anything, John wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close. Dean couldn’t help it. He started to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” John told him. “I don’t blame you. If anything, I blame myself.” He wiped his eyes. “If I would’ve been a better dad to you two…” Dean just hugged him again. A moment later, he pulled back.

“Sam, uh, he wanted me to give this to you.” He handed John the mission patch from Sam’s suit. John started to sob. He held the patch in his hands, large tears falling down his face. He waved his hand, motioning for (Y/n) to come over.

“G-go on.” Jessica whispered. “I’m fine.” (Y/n) made her way over to Dean.

“Hey Winchester.” She said, her voice wavering some. He turned to look at her and she punched him in the arm. “How,” punch “dare you” another punch, “do that to me? I thought I….” She let herself be wrapped up in his arms, holding onto him. “Your child wouldn’t have been happy with you if you didn’t come back.”

Dean kissed her deeply, “Benny spoiled the beans to keep me from leaving the shuttle to join Sam,” Dean admitted.

(Y/n) punched him again, “Winchester you are lucky I’m marrying you.”

“Damn right I am.” He said. Ashton wiggled out of Jessica’s arms and made his way over to Dean. He pulled on (Y/n)’s hand.

“Where’s daddy?” Ashton asked. “He’s Superman and Uncle Dean Batman.” (Y/n) looked up at Dean with a small smile on her face.

Dean closed his eyes before he knelt down to his nephew. “hey buddy… You don't remember me… I'm your uncle Dean…” He gave Ashton a sad smile.

(Y/n) stepped back and watched as Dean interested with Ashton.

“OK, so I have a special message from your dad,” Dean took a deep breath. “are you ready to hear it?”

“mmmhmmm” Ashton nodded his head, “my teacher says I an a good listener.”

Dean chuckled, “your dad is on a very special mission,” he got closer to Ashton and whispered, “as Superman.”

Ashton gasped, “is he ever coming back?”

Dean took a deep breath, “I'm sorry buddy. It's a very very long mission. But, he told me to take good care of you and you discovered my secret…” Dean pretended to look around and came in close to Ashton. “I'm batman, so I am going to do everything I can to be there for you and you get to help me with your new baby cousin that will be here in a few months, OK?”

“I gets a supers special missioms!” He whispered excitedly.

“Oh yeah kid, and you get to help me out when I marry your aunty (Y/n) ,” Dean picked him up with one arm hissing at the pain in his leg. What they thought might have been a break was a sprain. “You get the very special mission of protecting the ring I’m going to put on her finger when we get married.”

Ashton leaned in to whisper but (Y/n) could still hear him, “ I pwomise I can potect the wing!”  

“I know you will buddy,”  Dean smiled at (Y/n) as he passed Ashton to his dad. He turned to (Y/n) and placed his hand on her abdomen. “I, uh…” He smiled. “I’m going to be a dad.”

“And I want to name him or her Sam. Are...are you okay with that?” (Y/n) asked.

Dean kissed her deeply. Every emotion he was feeling was in that kiss. “I am more than ok with that,” He placed his forehead on hers. “ I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled as she rested her forehead against his. Bobby came up then, clearing his throat.

“Uh, Dean?” Bobby said. “I, uh, I just wanted to say thank you.”

Dean gave him a smiled not sure what to say, “We did what we had to do to keep the world spinning, sir.”

“One more thing Dean,” Bobby pulled out a letter from the University of Texas, “This is from the Dean of the Master program. Congratulations son.” Bobby handed him the letter and gave his shoulder a strong tap before walking to the others.

(Y/n) looked to Dean, “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?”

Dean’s hands shook as he tore open the envelope. Gently unfolding the paper he began reading.

“Holy shit,” He whispered. “I can graduate next month with my Masters. My thesis was accepted, plus the mission counted as hours.”

“Well hot damn! This calls for a celebration!” John said, hugging Dean. “I think you beat Sam’s...record…” John quieted quickly.

Dean nodded as he looked to his dad, “the uh… the thing you… you said when we were getting on the plane… did you mean it?” Dean cleared his throat.

“Of course I did.” John said. “I won’t be around forever and I don’t trust anyone more than you to run it.”

“Crowley isn’t going to like it,” Dean gave his dad a smirk.

“I already dealt with it.” John laughed. “According to Rowena, I am a swampy bollock bastard.”

“What the hell did you say?” Dean raised his eyebrow at him.

“That Winchester oil needs you more than they do, and if they insisted on trying to take you, I was sending Ash and Ketch instead.” John said with a shrug.

Dean laughed, “Dad… I really was going to be the one to stay… I drew the short straw… I should have… he pulled my oxygen and pushed me in… I’m his big brother… I should have protected him more.” Dean whispered.

“I don’t blame you.” John said. “I just wish that you both could’ve come home, but I’m glad I didn’t lose both of you.”

“We’re having a debriefing and dinner,” Michael said, walking up to Dean. “And I...I want to shake your hand.”

Dean held out his hand, “the roughneck with the engineering degree from Texas isn’t so bad now huh?”

“I owe you a thanks.” Michael said. “And I would be honored if you decided to come work with us here at NASA.”

“I appreciate it… But I have an Oil rig to take care of,” Dean shook his hand. “It’s a family business.” Michael nodded and walked away. (Y/n) took Dean’s hand.

“Come on honey.” She said. “I think we have a dinner to attend.”

“Any dessert plans,” Dean whispered in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe.

“Easy Winchester,” (Y/n) kissed his lips taking his bottom lip and nipping at it, “Don’t start something you can’t finish”

Dean walked up to Jessica and pulled her into a hug, “He never stopped loving you… I

I wanted to bring him home sooo bad Jess. I really did.”

“I know Dean. I know.” She hugged him tightly.

Dean went with the rest of the crew to get debrief and to get ready to fly back to Texas. Throughout the flight Metallica was sung and distractions from (Y/n) helped Dean. But the hole  left by Sam still hurt. When they reached Texas, they were allowed to go to the places they were staying to get ready for the dinner prepared for them.

During dinner (Y/n) stayed quiet as everyone spoke. She couldn’t help but feel sad and guilty. She should have done more to help Sam, to help him realize that he had family and that there was hope for him.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Whatever it is… we’ll get through this together.”

“Yeah,” was all she said as she took in a deep breath and drank her water. “I hate that he’s not here Dean. and i’m thinking back to where I could have talked to him more. Reached out… done something, anything.” she breathed.

That night, Dean watched as (Y/n) slept. He gently let his fingers dance along her exposed skin. He moved her hair away from her face before draping an arm around her pulling her close and kissing her head. He looked down at her sleeping form, tears pricked in his eyes as his hand found their way to her abdomen, he could feel the small baby bump there. It was just starting to form. Taking a deep breath he slowly pulled away from her and got out of bed. Thankful that she stayed sound asleep, Dean looked over at Sadie who (Y/n) insisted on having in the room with them.

“Come on girl,” Dean whispered, “I know you can’t sleep either.”

Dean was numb as he walked around Sam’s house. He had Jessica and Ashton stay with them and he convinced his dad to join them. With Sadie padding along behind him. Dean made his way to Sam’s liquor cabinet. He had only ever done this one time when he couldn’t sleep. Looking through the different bottle he smiled finding the whiskey. Not bothering with a glass he looked through Sam’s videos and made sure the volume was not too loud where it would wake the house. He lazily ran his hand over Sadie as he watched some of Sam’s videos. One of them made him sit up straight. It looked recent and it looked like he did it in his office just after he volunteered to go up.

“Hey Dean.” Sam said. He was sitting at his desk, his bobblehead and the picture of Ashton visible. “I figure if you’re seeing this, I’m not around to stop you from going through my stuff.” Sadie whined at hearing Sam’s voice. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. I don’t know if I die on the mission or something else. I just want you to know that I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You didn’t have to give up your childhood to help take care of me, but you did. You put so much of your money up for me so I didn’t have to worry about trying to work and do school. You spoiled me, and I just wanted to repay you for everything.” Video Sam wiped at his eyes and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from somewhere off camera. “I want you and (Y/n) to be happy. If I don’t come back from this, I have it set up that you and her, dad, and Ashton and Jess are well taken care of.” Sam offered Dean a small smile. “I love you Dean.”

Dean watched as Sam got up and shut off the camera. The video snowed for a little bit then turned into Sam giving a presentation to some astronauts. Sam had recorded over his own work to get a message to Dean. And it was tearing him up inside.

“Sammy.” Dean whispered, listening to all the technical stuff coming from Sam’s mouth. Dean listened to it all, it lulling him to sleep. Sam’s voice was a comfort and it made Dean think that he was really here, just hiding. That when they went to have a funeral for him, he was going to jump out and yell surprise. But instead, he curled up on Sam’s couch and fell asleep, dreaming of his brother.

And that’s how John found him the next morning, bright and early. Sadie was laying with her head on Dean’s legs and the rest of her body at his feet. When John came in, she jumped up to be let out. John did, and then went over to Dean, gently shaking him awake.

“Sam?” Dean asked, sitting up and looking around. Only to realize that it wasn’t Sam shaking him awake. “Oh. Morning dad.”

“How are you feeling?” John asked.

“How’s it look?” Dean asked, motioning  to the empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. “I’m freaking fantastic.”

“I’m going to go get some boxes and stuff.” John said, rubbing the back of his head. “It was just me thinking, but it might be better to deal with all this now instead of stretching it all out.” John tried to look anywhere but Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea…” Dean cleared his throat. “I’ll make breakfast for everyone.” John nodded. He left to grab the materials and Dean woke everyone up by the smell of bacon and pancakes. Jessica looked relieved as she watched Ashton eat.

“He’s only wanted yogurt for breakfast for the past month.” She sighed. “It’s refreshing to see him eat actual food.” (Y/n) hugged her before eating her own food. Dean watched them, feeling that something was missing and knowing exactly what it was.

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Armageddon Tags: @thefaithfulwriter

[leiascully]

Fic:  Baseball Metaphors (7/?)

Part One  |  Part Two  |  Part Three |  Part Four |  Part Five |  Part 6

What can I say except you’re welcome, it’s PG-13, and don’t expect more until the weekend probably.

+ + + +

Between their travel schedule and Ethan and Jenny's various appointments, it's three weeks before they manage to get together for dinner again.  Mulder is honestly surprised it even happens.  He assumed when they all promised it would be a regular thing that everyone else was just saying it for the usual social reasons.  He's never quite sure what to do anymore when someone who isn't Scully enjoys his company.  But he dutifully makes reservations at an upscale Latin American place in deference to Jenny's cravings for beef and avocados, and Jenny practically croons as she looks at the menu.  

"Oh, Fox, I can't believe you remembered," she gushes.  "That's so nice."

"That photographic memory," Scully says fondly, and pats his hand.  She's wearing a blouse tonight, silky and pink with one more button undone than her usual office wear, and a skirt that looks like it would be easy to slide his hand under.  But he's definitely not counting his bases before they hatch, or however the metaphor would go.

"There was no way I was getting between a pregnant lady and her tacos," Mulder says.  

"These are going to be way nicer than the ones we make at home," Ethan says.  "Nice job, Fox."

Jenny pats her belly.  She's showing slightly now.  "I'm sure our little peanut will appreciate that."

"He's so considerate," Scully says.  She throws Mulder a melting look.  

"Sorry we haven't been able to meet before now," Ethan says, "but big news - we closed on the house.  It's officially ours."

"Maybe we'll have you over for dinner!" Jenny says.  "After the painters finish, of course.  Can't be around the fumes right now."  She laughs.

"Of course," Scully says with a gentle chuckle.  "Maybe it'll inspire me to redo my apartment."  

"I thought you were going to redo your apartment soon anyway," Mulder says in a meaningful tone, nuzzling at her ear.

"Oh, Fox," she says, playfully pushing him away.  "You know we haven't worked out all the details yet."

"We've got news of our own," Mulder says, turning back to Ethan and Jenny. "We're moving in together."  Jenny claps her hands.

"That's so wonderful!" she says.  "You'll have to have a housewarming when you find your new place."

"We haven't even decided whether we're getting a new place," Scully says, smiling.

"You will," Jenny says decisively.  "You know when you get to our age, it's just too hard to let someone else into your space, or to give up your own place.  A fresh start is better.  That way you can work together from the beginning.  It all starts with compromise."

"Wise words from a beautiful lady," Ethan says, leaning in to kiss her cheek.  

"I just know you'll find the perfect place," Jenny says.  Her eyes are shining.  "And if you need any help, Dana, I actually love looking through the real estate ads.  I'd be happy to look up a few places you might like."

"That sounds perfect," Scully says.  Mulder nudges her knee with his under the table.  She presses back firmly.  

Dinner, fortunately, is delicious, because it's accompanied by endless details about Ethan and Jenny's bungalow, their paint colors, the new stove they're having delivered, and the plans they have for their guest room.  In the absence of wine, Scully indulges in a margarita or two.  Mulder watches her lick the salt off the rim of her glass and remembers the kisses they shared in his car.  They haven't talked about it since, but he's indulged in a few reminiscences, alone in his apartment.  He picks up a forkful of pickled vegetables and pork from his Cuban plate and orders another margarita for himself.  

The meal ends with churros, fresh-fried and glistening with sugar.  Scully dips one into the accompanying chocolate sauce and holds it to Mulder's lips.  He bites into it, only a little self-conscious.  It crunches gently, hot and delicious.  He looks at Scully and it's like they're the only two people in the room.  Maybe that's where this ridiculous ritual comes from.

It's a nice night, somehow, or nice enough, for a night that doesn't involve watching either UFOs or baseball.  He couldn't have imagined becoming anything even approaching friends with anyone who'd ever dated Scully, but Ethan isn't that bad, and Jenny's definitely trying to smooth everything over.  He can tell that all this domesticity is still pressing on some sore spots in Scully's heart, but it isn't intentional.  Ethan and Jenny just genuinely want to share their joy.  

They say their good nights at the door of the restaurant.  Mulder puts his arm around Scully and she slips her hand into the back pocket of his nice jeans.  He isn't sure whether she's actually squeezing his ass, but at this point, he wouldn't put it past her.  When he agreed to play pretend as her boyfriend, he didn't expect either of them to commit to the bit so fully, but it makes sense despite Scully's generally reserved nature.  When she goes for something, she goes all in.  Rewriting Einstein.  Pursuing some kind of accelerated program through med school that he still doesn't understand so that she could join the FBI.  Wrangling him and investigating the X-Files.  Cuddling up to him at a restaurant as if they're sickeningly in love.

He's seen worse coping strategies for dealing with one's ex and one's ex's new house purchase, promotion, and pregnant pretty fiancée.

"See you soon?" Ethan says, holding out his hand for Mulder to shake.

"We wouldn't miss it," Mulder says.  "Or that double housewarming."  They wave as Ethan and Jenny turn to go through the parking lot.

"Is this what it's like to have friends?" he murmurs to Scully.

"I'm not sure anymore," she says wryly.  "All I have is you."

"I'm not so bad," he says with amusement.  "Am I?"

Now she's definitely squeezing his ass.  "You do all right."

"You okay?" he asks.

She sighs.  "It's srange," she says at last.  "On the surface, it seems as if they have everything I've always wanted, but I don't look at Ethan and want to be with him.  I don't even know if that life is what I want at this point.  I mean, it is, but this job isn't exactly compatible with parenting, and I don't want to give it up, and I don't want to have a family unless I have a partner, which I don't have time to find.  My parents loved each other, but I saw what raising four kids basically on her own put on my mother.  And Dad missed so much."

"Meanwhile my parents had nothing but me in their lives," Mulder says.  "After Sam, I mean.  That wasn't ideal either."

"So two to four kids," Scully muses.  "I don't think I'm the type for immaculate conception."

"That should be the least of your worries," he tells her, opening the car door for her.  

They bicker amiably about the existence of Bigfoot on the way home, a refrain as familiar as anything on Top 40 radio.  He parks outside her building and turns to her, trying not to have expectations.  But he can't stop remembering the heat of her kisses that fogged up the windows, the weight of her balanced in his lap.  She blinks at him slowly in the dark of his car and he thinks she's remembering too.

"Walk me to my door?" she says, and the quirk in her lips makes her intent clear.  

"It would be my pleasure," he says, and follows her into her building.  He props himself against the door jamb as she unlocks the door.  It takes her a second, even though he knows they were at the restaurant long enough for the margaritas to wear off.  If she's jittery, it's for some other reason.  He hopes it's him.  The lock clicks open at last and she tugs her keys out.

"Well," he says, grinning, "good night."

She reaches up and tows him into her apartment by his shirtfront.  He kicks the door shut and lets her press him against it as he bends down to kiss her.  He does taste salt and sugar flecked at the edges of her lips this time, but what matters is the heat of her and the way her lips and tongue insist on capturing his full attention.  He cups his hands around her face.  He'd pick her up if he dared and let her wrap her legs around his waist, but as natural as it feels to kiss her, all this is new.  

"I think you've earned second base," she says.  "For outstanding performance at an endless dinner."

"You sure?" he asks.

"I saw the way you looked at me in that hotel room in Oregon when I showed up in nothing but a robe," she teases.  "To say nothing of assorted evidence I've gathered over the last few years, up to and including elevator maintenance.  If you're not interested, we can say good night, but I better not hear any more bullshit about method acting."

"I'm interested," he assures her.  "It's just that pesky real life and office that we share I'm worried about."

She shrugs.  "It's worked so far.  I'm not going to tell my therapist about it, but it's worked."  She pulls him closer and looks up at him.  "If I didn't let Them take you from me, I'm not going to let this take you from me."

"If you're sure," he says.  

"I'm sure that I'd rather that you were feeling me up than that we were continuing this conversation," she says, pressing her body against his.  "So shut up and put out or get out."  She winks to soften her words.  

He kisses her again and unbuttons her blouse with feverish intensity, sliding his hand inside to touch the lace of her bra.  Her nipples are already hard.  He flicks his thumb across them and she gasps against his lips.  

"Ah, Scully," he says reverently.  

"Couch," she commands, stepping away and taking his hand, and he follows her over.  She perches on the arm of the couch, her shirt half-open and her eyes half-lidded.  He sits below her and buries his face between her breasts.  She laughs, her chest rumbling against his forehead as he nuzzles against her velvety skin.  

Scully, in a surprise to no one, has absolutely perfect breasts.  They're perfectly shaped, with a perfect weight in his hands, and her nipples are rosy peeking through the lace of her bra.  He loves them.  He could play with them forever.  From the noises Scully is making as he gently squeezes them, that's more than all right with her.

He loses track of time.  He's hypnotized by the texture of her, the salt taste of her skin under his tongue.  He pulls her on top of him, toppling onto the cushions.  She's straddling him and yes, he was right about the skirt being easy to push up.  He undoes her bra and pushes her shirt off her shoulders.  She slides her arms out of the straps and he has access to all of her.  The way she braces herself above him changes the shape of her breasts and he could spend forever just exploring all the things gravity or the lack thereof could do to her body.  He wants to get her in a pool.  He wants to take her into space.  He wants to grow old with her, and fuck, he already knew it, but it's a whole new world.  

"Mulder," she says, and her voice comes from far away, but he reels himself in.  She slides down his body until she can look into his eyes.  "I don't want to stop."

"I hear a big 'but' coming," he murmurs, kissing her.

"But I don't think we should round the bases tonight," she says, her voice brimming with regret.  

"You know I hate it when you're right," he says.  She leans down, smiling against his lips.

"I know you do," she says.  "But you and I both know we're going to have to have more dinners with them.  It makes more sense to ration it out."  

"Just in case of catastrophe," he says.

"That and I don't want to fling myself into your arms to assuage my regrets about my former relationship," she says.  "You deserve better."  She kisses him again.  "But god, I want you."

"You'll just have to wait a little longer," he says indulgently, brushing his hand down her bare thigh.    

"At least until the nursery's painted," she says, rolling her eyes.  

"That's third base," he tells her.  "Housewarming is home."

"Who put you in charge of the calendar?" she teases.

"I'm kind of in charge of the elevator," he jokes back.  "Besides, who knew the way to get you to drop all your inhibitions was to put you at a dinner table with a nice boring suburban couple?"

"That sounds much more scandalous than I think you intended," she says with a smile.  

"My scandal level is precisely calibrated," he says.  She climbs off him and he sits up.  He'll have to address his situation again when he gets home.  He's half-amazed he didn't come in his pants like a college boy fumbling around in his twin bed with his first hookup.  

"Good night," Scully says, tracing a finger down the buttons of his shirt.  

"I guess you didn't get to second base," he says, looking at his chest.  Hers is much more appealing.  She's shrugged her shirt back on and her breasts are bare inside it, flushed and possibly marked by his teeth.    

"Next time," she says.  "You don't have quite as much to work with."

"I might surprise you," he says.  

"Next time," she says again, and this time it's a promise.  She sends him out the door with a kiss and a slap on the ass.  He shakes his head in the hallway, only half-believing that any of this is happening at all.

[itnews452]

Should Your Child Watch TV News? Surprising Opinions of Top Anchors

KIDS AND THE NEWS

More than ever, children witness innumerable, sometimes traumatizing, news events on TV. It seems that violent crime and bad news is unabating. Foreign wars, natural disasters, terrorism, murders, incidents of child abuse, and medical epidemics flood our newscasts daily. Not to mention the grim wave of recent school shootings.

All of this intrudes on the innocent world of children. If, as psychologists say, kids are like sponges and absorb everything that goes on around them, how profoundly does watching TV news actually affect them? How careful do parents need to be in monitoring the flow of news into the home, and how can they find an approach that works?

To answer these questions, we turned to a panel of seasoned anchors, Peter Jennings, Maria Shriver, Linda Ellerbee, and Jane Pauley--each having faced the complexities of raising their own vulnerable children in a news-saturated world.

Picture this: 6:30 p.m. After an exhausting day at the office, Mom is busy making dinner. She parks her 9-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son in front of the TV.

"Play Nintendo until dinner's ready," she instructs the little ones, who, instead, start flipping channels.

Tom Brokaw on "NBC News Tonight," announces that an Atlanta gunman has killed his wife, daughter and son, all three with a hammer, before going on a shooting rampage that leaves nine dead.

On "World News Tonight," Peter Jennings reports that a jumbo jetliner with more than 300 passengers crashed in a spinning metal fireball at a Hong Kong airport.

On CNN, there's a report about the earthquake in Turkey, with 2,000 people killed.

On the Discovery channel, there's a timely special on hurricanes and the terror they create in children. Hurricane Dennis has already struck, Floyd is coming.

Finally, they see a local news report about a roller coaster accident at a New Jersey amusement park that kills a mother and her eight-year-old daughter.

Nintendo was never this riveting.

"Dinner's ready!" shouts Mom, unaware that her children may be terrified by this menacing potpourri of TV news.

What's wrong with this picture?

"There's a LOT wrong with it, but it's not that easily fixable," notes Linda Ellerbee, the creator and host of "Nick News," the award-winning news program geared for kids ages 8-13, airing on Nickelodeon.

"Watching blood and gore on TV is NOT good for kids and it doesn't do much to enhance the lives of adults either," says the anchor, who strives to inform children about world events without terrorizing them. "We're into stretching kids' brains and there's nothing we wouldn't cover," including recent programs on euthanasia, the Kosovo crisis, prayer in schools, book- banning, the death penalty, and Sudan slaves.

But Ellerbee emphasizes the necessity of parental supervision, shielding children from unfounded fears. "During the Oklahoma City bombing, there were terrible images of children being hurt and killed," Ellerbee recalls. "Kids wanted to know if they were safe in their beds. In studies conducted by Nickelodeon, we found out that kids find the news the most frightening thing on TV.

"Whether it's the Gulf War, the Clinton scandal, a downed jetliner, or what happened in Littleton, you have to reassure your children, over and over again, that they're going to be OK--that the reason this story is news is that IT ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS. News is the exception...nobody goes on the air happily and reports how many planes landed safely!

"My job is to put the information into an age-appropriate context and lower anxieties. Then it's really up to the parents to monitor what their kids watch and discuss it with them"

Yet a new study of the role of media in the lives of children conducted by the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation reveals that 95% of the nation's children ages 8-18 are watching TV without their parents present.

How does Ellerbee view the typical scenario of the harried mother above?

"Mom's taking a beating here. Where's Dad?" Ellerbee asks.Perhaps at work, or living separately from Mom, or absent altogether.

"Right. Most Moms and Dads are working as hard as they can because we live in a society where one income just doesn't cut it anymore,"

NBC News correspondent Maria Shriver, the mother of four--Katherine, 13, Christina, 12, Patrick, 10, and Christopher, 6--agrees with Ellerbee: "But Moms aren't using the TV as a babysitter because they're out getting manicures!" says the 48-year-old anchor.

"Those mothers are struggling to make ends meet and they do it because they need help. I don't think kids would be watching [as much TV] if their parents were home organizing a touch football game.

"When I need the TV as a babysitter," says Shriver, who leaves detailed TV- viewing instructions behind when traveling, "I put on a safe video. I don't mind that my kids have watched "Pretty Woman" or "My Best Friend's Wedding" 3,000 times. I'd be more fearful if they watched an hour of local news.That would scare them. They might feel: 'Oh, my God, is somebody going to come in and shoot me in my bedroom?'"

In a move to supervise her own children more closely since her husband, Arnold Schwarzenegger, became Governor, Shriver scaled back her workload as Contributing Anchor to Dateline NBC and set up her office at home: "You can never be vigilant enough with your kids," she says, "because watching violence on TV clearly has a huge impact on children--whether it's TV news, movies, or cartoons."

This view is shared by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, which states: ""TV is a powerful influence in developing value systems and shaping behavior...studies find that children may become immune to the horror of violence; gradually accept violence as a way to solve problems; and resort to anti-social and aggressive behavior, imitating the violence they observe."

Although there are no rules about watching TV in 49% of the nation's households, TV-watching at the Schwarzenegger home is almost totally verboten:

"We have a blanket rule that my kids do not watch any TV at all during the week," she notes, "and having a TV in their bedrooms has never been an option. I have enough trouble getting them to do their homework!" she states with a laugh. "Plus the half hour of reading they have to do every night.

According to the Kaiser survey, Shriver's household is a glaring exception to the rule. "Many kids have their own TV's, VCR's and video games in their bedroom," the study notes. Moreover, children ages 8-18 actually spend an average of three hours and 16 minutes watching TV daily; only 44 minutes reading; 31 minutes using the computer; 27 minutes playing video games; and a mere 13 minutes using the Internet.

"My kids," Shriver explains, "get home at 4 p.m., have a 20-minute break, then go right into homework or after-school sports. Then, I'm a big believer in having family dinner time. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting at the dinner table and listening to my parents, four brothers, and my grandmother, Rose. We didn't watch the news.

"After dinner nowadays, we play a game, then my kids are in bed, reading their books. There's no time in that day for any TV, except on weekends, when they're allowed to watch a Disney video, Sesame Street, Barney, The Brady Bunch, or Pokemon."

Beyond safe entertainment, Shriver has eliminated entirely the option of her children watching news events unfolding live on TV: "My kids," she notes, "do not watch any TV news, other than Nick News," instead providing her children with Time for Kids, [Teen Newsweek is also available], Highlights, and newspaper clippings discussed over dinner.

"No subject should be off-limits," Shriver concludes, "but you must filter the news to your kids."

ABC's Peter Jennings, who reigns over "World News Tonight," the nation's most-watched evening newscast, emphatically disagrees with a censored approach to news-watching: "I have two kids--Elizabeth is now 24 and Christopher is 21-- and they were allowed to watch as much TV news and information anytime they wanted," says the anchor. A firm believer in kids understanding the world around them, he adapted his bestselling book, The Century, for children ages 10 and older in The Century for Young People.

No downside to kids watching news? "I don't know of any downside and I've thought about it many times. I used to worry about my kids' exposure to violence and overt sex in the movies. Like most parents, I found that although they were exposed to violence sooner than I would have liked, I don't feel they've been affected by it. The jury's still out on the sex.

"I have exposed my kids to the violence of the world--to the bestiality of man--from the very beginning, at age 6 or 7. I didn't try to hide it. I never worried about putting a curtain between them and reality, because I never felt my children would be damaged by being exposed to violence IF they understood the context in which it occurred. I would talk to my kids about the vulnerability of children in wartime--the fact that they are innocent pawns-- and about what we could do as a family to make the world a more peaceful place.

Jennings firmly believes that coddling children is a mistake: "I've never talked down to my children, or to children period. I always talk UP to them and my newscast is appropriate for children of any age."

Yet the 65-year-old anchor often gets letters from irate parents: "They'll say: 'How dare you put that on at 6:30 when my children are watching?' My answer is: 'Madam, that's not my problem. That's YOUR problem. It's absolutely up to the parent to monitor the flow of news into the home."

Part of directing this flow is turning it off altogether at meal-time, says Jennings, who believes family dinners are sacrosanct. He is appalled that the TV is turned on during meals in 58% of the nation's households, this according to the Kaiser study.

"Watching TV during dinner is unforgivable," he exclaims, explaining that he always insisted that his family wait until he arrived home from anchoring the news. "You're darn right they waited...even when my kids were tiny, they never ate until 7:30 or 8 pm. Then we would sit with no music, no TV. Why waste such a golden opportunity? Watching TV at mealtime robs the family of the essence of the dinner, which is communion and exchange of ideas. I mean, God, if the dinner table is anything, it's a place to learn manners and appreciation for two of the greatest things in life--food and drink."

Jennings is likewise unequivocal in his view of junk TV and believes parking kids at the tube creates dull minds: "I think using TV as a babysitter is a terrible idea because the damn television is very narcotic, drug-like. Mindless TV makes for passive human beings--and it's a distraction from homework!

"My two children were allowed to watch only a half an hour of entertainment TV per night--and they never had TV's in their bedrooms.It's a conscious choice I made as a parent not to tempt them...too seductive..."

Adds Ellerbee: "TV is seductive and is meant to be. The hard, clear fact is that when kids are watching TV, they're not doing anything else!"

Indeed, according to the National Institute on Out-of-School Time and the Office of Research Education Consumer Guide, TV plays a bigger role in children's lives now than ever before. Kids watch TV an average of14 to 22 hours per week, which accounts for at least 25 percent of their free time.

"Dateline NBC" Anchor Jane Pauley, intensely private, declined an interview to discuss how she and her husband, cartoonist Garry Trudeau ("Doonesbury") handle TV-watching with their three teens, two of whom are fraternal twins. But in a written response, she agreed that kids need to be better protected from the onslaught of violence: "I was a visitor at a public elementary school not long ago, and was invited to peek in on a fourth-grade class on 'current events.' The assignment had been to watch the news and write about one of the stories. Two kids picked the fatal attack on a child by a pit bull and the other wrote about a child who'd hanged herself with a belt! They'd all watched the worst blood and gore 'News at 11' station in town. The teacher gave no hint that she was as appalled as I was. My response was to help the school get subscriptions to "Time for Kids" and "My Weekly Reader." People need to be better news consumers. And tabloid TV is very unhealthy for kids."

On this point, Ellerbee readily agrees:"I really do believe the first amendment STOPS at your front door. You are the boss at home and parents have every right to monitor what their kids watch. What's even better is watching with them and initiating conversations about what they see.If your child is watching something terribly violent, sit down and DEFUSE it. Talking makes the ghosts run...and kids can break through their scared feelings."

Adds Pauly:

"Kids," she maintains, "know about bad news--they're the ones trying to spare us the bad news sometimes. But kids should be able to see that their parents are both human enough to be deeply affected by a tragedy like Columbine, but also sturdy enough to get through it...and on with life. That is the underpinning of their security."

"I'm no expert on the nation's children," adds Jennings, " but I'd have to say no, it wasn't traumatic. Troubling, shocking, even devastating to some, confusing to others, but traumatizing in that great sense, no.

"Would I explain to my kids that there are young, upset, angry, depressed kids in the world? Yes. I hear the most horrendous stories about what's going on in high schools from my kids. And because of the shootings, parents are now on edge--pressuring educators to 'do something.' They have to be reminded that the vast majority of all schools in America are overwhelmingly safe," a fact borne out by The National School Safety Center, which reports that in l998 there were just 25 violent deaths in schools compared to an average of 50 in the early 90's.

Ellerbee adds that a parent's ability to listen is more important than lobbying school principals for more metal detectors and armed guards: "If there was ever a case where grown-ups weren't listening to kids, it was Littleton. First, don't interrupt your child...let them get the whole thought out. Next, if you sit silently for a couple of seconds after they're finished, they'll start talking again, getting to a second level of honesty. Third, try to be honest with your kid. To very small children, it's proper to say: 'This is never going to happen to you...' But you don't say that to a 10-year-old."

Moreover, Ellerbee believes that media literacy begins the day parents stop pretending that if you ignore TV, it will go away. "Let your kid know from the very beginning that he or she is SMARTER than TV: 'I am in control of this box, it is not in control of me. I will use this box as a useful, powerful TOOL, but will not be used by it.' Kids know the difference.

"Watching TV," Ellerbee maintains, "can makes kids more civilized. I grew up in the south of Texas in a family of bigoted people. Watching TV made me question my own family's beliefs in the natural inferiority of people of color. For me, TV was a real window that broadened my world."

Ironically, for Shriver, watching TV news is incredibly painful when the broadcast is about you. Being a Kennedy, Shriver has lived a lifetime in the glare of rumors and televised speculation about her own family. Presenting the news to her children has therefore included explaining the tragedies and controversies the Kennedys have endured. She was just eight years old when her uncle, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated: "I grew up in a very big shadow...and I couldn't avoid it," she admits. "It wasn't a choker, but it was a big responsibility that I don't want my own children to feel." Yet doesn't her 15- year marriage to megastar Schwarzenegger add yet another layer of public curiosity close to home? "My kids are not watching Entertainment Tonight--no, no, never! And I don't bring them to movie openings or Planet Hollywood. I think it's fine for them to be proud of their father, but not show off about him."

How does she emotionally handle news when her family's in it? "That's a line I've been walking since my own childhood, and it's certainly effected the kind of reporter I've become. It's made me less aggressive. I'm not [in the news business] to glorify myself at someone else's expense, but rather to report a story without destroying someone in the process. A producer might say: 'Call this person who's in a disastrous situation and book them right way.' And I'm like: 'Ahhhh. I can't even bring myself to do it,' because I've been on the other side and know the family is in such pain." Read more here ข่าวไอที

A few years ago, of course, the Kennedys experienced profound pain, yet again, when Shriver's beloved cousin, John F. Kennedy, Jr., was killed in a plane crash, with his wife, Carolyn, and sister-in-law, Lauren Bessette. A blizzard of news coverage ensued, unremitting for weeks. "I didn't watch any of it...I was busy, " Shriver says quietly. "And my children didn't watch any of it either."

Shriver was, however, somewhat prepared to discuss the tragedy with her children. She is the author of the best-selling "What's Heaven?" [Golden Books], a book geared for children ages 4-8, which explains death and the loss of a loved one. "My children knew John well because he spent Christmases with us. I explained what happened to John as the news unfolded...walked them through it as best I could. I reminded them that Mommy wrote the book and said: 'We're not going to see John anymore. He has gone to God...to heaven...and we have to pray for him and for his sister [Caroline] and her children."

Like Shriver, Jennings is personally uncomfortable in the role of covering private tragedies in a public forum: "In my shop, I'm regarded as one of those people who drags their feet a lot at the notion of covering those things," he explains. "During the O.J. Simpson trial, I decided not to go crazy in our coverage--and we took quite a smack and dropped from first to second in the ratings. TV is a business, so when a real corker of a story like Princess Diana's death comes along, we cover it. I think we're afraid not to do it. We're guilty of overkill, and with Diana, we ended up celebrating something that was largely ephemeral, making Diana more than she was. But audiences leap up!

"I was totally opposed to covering John F. Kennedy, Jr.'s funeral, because I saw no need to do it. He wasn't a public figure, though others would say I was wrong. On-air, I said: 'I don't think the young Mr. Kennedy would approve of all this excess...' But we did three hours on the funeral and it turned out to be a wonderful long history lesson about American politics and the Kennedy dynasty's place in our national life.

"Sometimes," Jennings muses, "TV is like a chapel in which we, as a nation, can gather to have a communal experience of loss.We did it with the Challenger, more recently with JFK Jr.'s death and we will do it shortly, I suspect, though I hope not, with Ronald Reagan. It's not much different than what people did when they went West in covered wagons in the last century. When tragedy struck, they gathered the wagons around, lit the fire, and talked about their losses of the day. And then went on. Television can be very comforting."

In closing, Ellerbee contends that you can't blame TV news producers for the human appetite for sensational news coverage that often drags on for days at a time:

"As a reporter," she muses, "I have never been to a war, traffic accident, or murder site that didn't draw a crowd. There is a little trash in all of us. But the same people who stop to gawk at a traffic accident, may also climb down a well to save a child's life, or cry at a sunset, or grin and tap their feet when the parade goes by.

"We are NOT just one thing. Kids can understand these grays...just as there's more than one answer to a question, there is certainly more than one part to you!