#in retrospect i probably should have just chosen a couple lines but i love the whole scene in its entirety you know?

[pearlcaddy]

lockwood & co appreciation week 💀 favorite tv scene [insp]

[thelaclippings]

A Season in Retrospect

So, turns out Kawhi’s knee injury was significantly worse than we thought. I mean, it’s not career ending (at least that we know of), but the reality is that he never was coming back to the 2021 Playoff Picture. Do I think the Clippers handled this information well? Maybe. Do I think the Clippers should do everything in their power to keep Kawhi around long-term? Probably. But do I think betting everything on Kawhi coming back to his prior form justifies selling the farm? Absolutely not.

Here’s the thing: as a Clippers fan I am absolutely happy to see Kawhi having chosen the Clippers as his team of the future two years ago. I was excited to see Paul George traded to LA and not end up in the purple & gold, a year removed from spurning the Lakers in free agency, even if it broke my heart to see SGA heading back to OKC in return. I was happy to watch them piece together a team that could legitimately combat LeBron and his then-new running mate Anthony Davis. But the season came, the Clippers looked great (especially against LA - trust me, I was there opening night in a sea of crying Laker fans) and it took a pandemic to derail everything. 

Now, I am not a Bubble-whiner, but was it ideal to have the Bubble be the lasting impression of what it prototypically means to traverse the grueling 82 game season and battle the best of the best? No. The Bubble had it faults, but the Clippers had every shot to win it all just like anyone else that was there. Their collapse is historic and another black mark on the Clipper name, but for me that was greatly the fault of Doc Rivers and his relentless approach at sticking to his guns and NEVER making the unconventional adjustment. He’s absolutely known for it, and the Bubble proved it. Would this have been any different if there had not been the bubble? Maybe not, but the many factors of what happened between stopped play and restarting in the Bubble had more effect than is given credit for (i.e. Montreal Harrell and the loss of his best friend, his grandmother).

This last season showed that the Clippers can be scary when everything is clicking. Yes, other teams suffered injuries throughout the season but the Clippers always appeared to be playing at a 7 with intent to turn it up to 11 when the playoffs came. But their secret weapon was the adjustments Ty Lue was willing to make. If you rewatch each series, you will see the EXACT same formula in each one. Games 1 & 2 were close losses, and by Game 3 the adjustments would kick in. Each series had a young Superstar taking the reigns and showing they were unstoppable. Stephen A. Smith talked about it after every game and even went so far to declare Donovan Mitchell the “greatest Jazz player of all time” based on his performance against the Clippers. Then, the Clippers would put that fire out and the rest of the team would have to pick up the slack. And despite the positive depth of each team (and the universal agreement that the Clippers lacked depth), the Clippers rose to the occasion time and time again.

And when Kawhi went down, we didn’t blink. The momentum of confidence from the coaching staff gave guys like Terrance Mann & Luke Kennard the added support to produce some amazing performances. I firmly believe the Clippers could have won it all had Game 1 of the WCF had a couple calls go our way and PG hit a single Free Throw at the end of Game 2. Then some adequate rest between the WCF and the Finals might have recharged enough for a true run of the Bucks. BUT this isn’t a woulda-shoulda-coulda. Like the team, even I was exhausted by Game 6 following a marathon of games every other day for a solid 3 weeks. 

So it’s on to the next season. A chance to let the excitement and accomplishments from this past season settle in and optimism of the future. Except we are now regularly inundated with news about Kawhi and his future with the team and what the extent of his injury might mean. And while it is probably the most unpopular opinion on the internet, I’ll be the first to say it: if Kawhi doesn’t want to be here, then he needs to go.

If Kawhi wants to be in Dallas or Miami, then let him. If his only avenue there is through a sign and trade, then get some quality in return for his loss and move on. Make more adjustments, get into the right groove, and move on. 

I’ve watched nearly every game of the last two seasons and Kawhi on the floor is universally the best player. But there are moments - regularly - where I am not confident that he inspires his teammates. He is known to be low-key on his attitude and that can be jarring. I want passion, emotion, excitement. I personally thrive off the energy of others and maybe that’s where seeing Kawhi on TV or from a distance at the Staples Center doesn’t always translate. But PG’s energy does. Even when he’s saying some dumb stuff (Playoff P...) he still seems to have the support of his teammates. Without PG we wouldn’t have kept Reggie Jackson at next-to-nothing. PG might be the reason Reggie sticks around on a reasonable contract over the loads of money another team might throw at him.

Kawhi brought us Ibaka, sure, and barring the injury might have been a really great impact on the playoffs. But it’s the role players that carried us through the playoffs when Kawhi went down. And if Kawhi still had a big hand in keeping them motivated, then let’s not lose him. Let’s hope that matters enough for Kawhi to not only want to stick around but keep this team together.

The idea of trading away the bench in order to bring in another question-mark player is nauseating to me. If we have to lose guys like Patrick Beverly, Marcus Morris, or Terrance Mann, I don’t want to see the return be mid-level guys who need to jive in a new situation. If the return is anyone but Damian Lillard, I don’t want them. No John Wall. No Russell Westbrook. No Ben Simmons. No middle-of-the-road players that don’t truly elevate over what we have. Marcus Morris was once seen as one of these guys, and at his best still is. Why trade him unless you are absolutely certain the guy coming back is better? Pat Bev is the heart of our team, and proved that in crunch time he is still easily the most effective defensive stopper in the league. Don’t believe me, listen to comments from the Jazz series on guys not wanting to get stuck with him on them.

Yes, their contracts are high. And yes, nothing can be done without moving on from these guys. But why does anything need to be done? If there’s one for certain that needs to be addressed, it’s Kawhi. If he is not the leader of this team, which I would argue Paul George has more of the proven leader qualities than Kawhi has outwardly shown, and he might want to play somewhere else, then use his albatross contract and the unknown of his injury and how it affects his future as the last-ditch-effort trade chip to bring some talent back and give us the flexibility.

Would I be opposed to Kawhi-to-Dallas? Mostly, as I don’t like enough of the surrounding talent to come back as collateral. Short of getting every draft pick imaginable from Dallas, guys like Tim Hardaway, Jr. or Kristaps Porzingis don’t give me the confidence that I would want to be traceable assets or reliable otherwise. Hardaway had a great resurgence, sure, but he needs to find a way to Indiana to keep playing for Rick Carlisle. Porzingis on the other hand is still a good player, but has proven he’s not worth the contract and thus untraceable to a third team so you’re stuck with him. And he does not signlehandedly replace what Kawhi brings. I like guys like Maxi Kleber, but then we have so many bigs we wouldn’t know what to do with, and trading away Zubac’s to accommodate incoming bigs would be a huge mistake. I also would hate the combination of Luka & Kawhi from a competitor standpoint. If we ran into Dallas a third time in the playoffs next season, but they now have Kawhi instead, we are toast. Bottom line.

I’d send Kawhi to Miami. Mostly because he would only be our problem if they made it to the finals, and as a basketball fan I’d love to see that Miami team go head to head with the Nets for a couple seasons and see what shakes out. If Kawhi joined Jimmy Butler in Miami, the East would, in my opinion, have effectively balanced itself back out with the West. I also think the return would be better. Guys like Tyler Herro, Duncan Robinson, Kendrick Nunn all have trade value. Get some picks in return as well and we have some quality building blocks. Or truly pull off the incredible by making this trade as a stepping stone to another one that nets the Clippers Damian Lillard.

I’ve tinkered with the NBA Trade Machine and made this work a variety of ways. Sending Ibaka to the Blazers and Kawhi to the Heat allows the Clippers to bring back not just Lillard, but potentially one of Miami’s sharpshooters or even a talent like Jones Jr. or Kanter. Sporting a lineup that includes George and Lillard without giving up guys like Morris, Zubac, Mann, or Beverly would be a huge win. Keeping Rondo for experience and leadership would be welcome though he likely wouldn’t play much, and spending the remaining resources on retaining guys like Nic Batum & Reggie Jackson would be crucial.

All in all, I would hate to see Kawhi leave a team that could have won it if the injury never happened. I would hate to see this team broken up at all. Bring back Batum, bring back Jackson. Bring back guys like Cousins or even Pat Pat (despite his effective 0 minutes played in the playoffs). Leadership and chemistry is the final piece in this already established puzzle. 

But if Kawhi needs to follow his own path, then I think the Clippers need to suck it up and move on.

[aurorawest]

I love all stories of your Loki/Stephen series, but I think "Sleight of Hand" is my favorite. :) (so far) So about the ask, I could ask all questions haha, but I'll limit it to questions 3, 5 and 13. (Or choose just one of those questions that interest you most.) And generally about the series, what do you like most about Loki/Stephen? Because it's the only ship I personally am passionate about and I often wonder myself why. :D

It makes me so happy that Sleight of Hand is your favorite! It honestly might be my favorite too 😄  (I totally would answer every question from the meme about it, lol)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Ahhh hard choice! I’m not sure I’ve ever chosen my words quite so carefully as I did in this fic. I think I might have to go with this, from chapter 11:

He didn’t just unravel them, he took a knife to them, slashing them to ribbons and leaving the evidence of their ruin flapping in the metaphysical wind.

Loki is really angry in this fic, both at himself and at his situation, particularly his powerlessness—and in retrospect I realized it was because I was feeling very angry and powerless when I started writing it. And I love this chapter, and this moment in particular, because it’s the one time in the fic where he’s really in control of his rage, where he takes it and uses it as a tool, rather than just wanting to set fire to everything. It’s cathartic. Plus I just think it’s a cool description and I’m proud of it, haha.

5: What part was hardest to write?

All of it, haha. Honestly this fic was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever written. The themes that it deals with are hard and heavy, and it became clear to me as I wrote that there wouldn’t be a proper resolution. It has no action at all and so much of it is in Loki’s head, which is...really not a great place to be in this fic. He’s depressed, he’s angry, he’s grieving, and he’s Loki, so he can’t deal with any of it even remotely constructively. It was a difficult arc to write, because I wanted him to go from rage at his lack of control over everything in his life to acceptance of the fact that he can’t control everything, and I had to do it with a very limited cast (I knew from the start that Thor wouldn’t appear).

But in terms of specific lines, I think probably this bit in chapter 11:

On The Statesman, in the end, he’d been a hero. Not because he wanted to be, but because he couldn’t do anything else. Those were his people whom Thanos was slaughtering. The only thing he could do was fight for them. The only thing he could do was give himself up for Thor.

Nothing had happened to change that. He’d do it all over again.

Maybe he didn’t know who he was, exactly, but he knew that. And maybe, for now, that was good enough.

I remember really agonizing over these lines, knowing I had to get them right.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I listen to kind of anything when I write. However!! I do have a playlist for this fic, and I would be delighted to share it!

“Coals” - SLO

“The Resolution” - Jack’s Mannequin

“Uncharted” - Sara Bareilles

“Got It In You” - BANNERS

“Shots” - Imagine Dragons

“The Sound of My Voice” - The Naked and Famous

“Sleight of Hand” - William Ryan Fritch

I remember listening to “Coals” on repeat on the day that I wrote the beginning of chapter 12. Idk why I remember that specifically. I also totally add to this playlist whenever I come across an appropriate song, like “The Sound of My Voice” is a recent addition. And it is a great Loki song, so if you listen to nothing else from this playlist, I highly recommend that one.

As far as what do I like about Loki/Stephen...oh man, where do I start?

I feel like I’ve never loved a ship as much as I’ve loved this ship, haha. Definitely what initially drew me to them was the banter—it completely wrote itself. But I think what really sustains my love for them is just kind of..who they are individually, and how well I think they work as a couple? They’re both incredibly brave and broken people who have managed to get up and keep going when they’ve fallen. They aren’t reliant on other people, and in fact are both loners in their own ways—but they allow the other in, and it surprises both of them. Stephen’s patience and steadiness really draws Loki to him; he’s someone who means the things he says and is really Loki’s opposite in that respect, but in a way that I think Loki longs for. I tend to be drawn to ships where one person sees the worst of the other person and still loves them, so I think ultimately that’s what I love about them.

Also, let’s be real, they look hot together. They’re a beautiful couple, lol.

Thank you so much for the ask!! 😄 😄 

From Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

[neuxue]

Do you have any recommendations for fantasy reads that are dark but not all the way grimdark? You seem like someone who would have suggestions!

I do indeed! That’s a broad category so I’ve put together a list that should span at least something of a range of different types of ‘dark’. I’m not including comprehensive content warnings, because given the nature of this list it would take all day, but feel free to ask if you want more detailed warnings for any of these.

I’m also only including books I’ve read (I have lots on my to-read list that supposedly fit the dark-but-not-grimdark description), so anyone else should feel free to add your suggestions (I say somewhat selfishly, as this is a genre I am also always in the market for recommendations for).

In alphabetical order:

Baru Cormorant (The Traitor Baru Cormorant, The Monster Baru Cormorant; more to come) by Seth Dickinson. There are books that are dark because of the world they’re set in; there are books that are dark because of the things that happen to the characters…and then there are books that are dark because they focus on the darkness within those characters. This is one of those; Baru Cormorant is savagely intelligent and competent, single-minded in her goals but wide-ranging and creative in her ways of accomplishing them, and will not hesitate to set fire to everything, including herself, to see her ends achieved. The books are a sort of…loving deconstruction not of a villain but of an entire set of traits that are usually ascribed to villainy, in a way that holds nothing back and exposes the sharp edges to show both the bloody ruin and the beauty they make. It’s also a rare chance to see a female character cast in this particular archetype. Book 2 is…darker but also really fucking weird. You’ve been warned.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone (Daughter of Smoke and Bone, Days of Blood and Starlight, Dreams of Gods and Monsters) by Laini Taylor. These fall into the category of ‘aesthetically dark’, and lean more towards the YA/romance (with a healthy side of celestial war), but the world is pretty and magic is pain, so there’s that.

Doctrine of Labyrinths (Mélusine, The Virtu, The Mirador, Corambis) by Sarah Monette. Three books hurt, one book comfort. Very very dark, in the way that fantasy of this time period often is, but done…well, I’m not going to say tastefully, because that would imply that Monette shies away from literally anything at all, which she very much does not, but done in a way that doesn’t shy from consequences either. More character-driven than plot-driven, but the characters include a character who is very much My Type (as well as being pretty much the textbook definition of 'disaster gay’), if that tells you anything, and the relationship between the two protagonist brothers, as it unfolds, is messy and complicated and beautiful.

Gentleman Bastard Sequence (The Lies of Locke Lamora, Red Seas under Red Skies, The Republic of Thieves; more books to come) by Scott Lynch. Dark with a huge side of sarcastic humour. And heists. Lots of heists. Locke is an absolute disaster of a protagonist (really just an absolute disaster full stop), and watching him is like watching a train wreck that turns out to be a Rube Goldberg machine. These probably lean a little closer to grimdark than some of the others on this list (characters die; you’ve been warned), but I think they still ultimately toe the line.

His Dark Materials (The Golden Compass/Northern Lights, The Subtle Knife, The Amber Spyglass) by Philip Pullman. So technically these are children’s books, but I’d argue they definitely deserve to be described as 'dark’, if in a different way than some of the others on this list. Probably not for you if you’re offended by blasphemy against Christianity (in the words of a friend, these are 'Pullman’s extended callout of the Catholic church’), but if that doesn’t bother you these are probably the first on my list of Formative Fantasy Influences and I love them to pieces. Contains a rather excellent dark Power Couple that, in retrospect, probably defined a lot of what would become My Type in fictional characters. Also gay angels.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N.K. Jemisin. Another one that is probably best described as 'aesthetically dark’. Really interesting setting and characters; if you like dysfunctional families and hot chained gods, this book is for you. It’s the first of a series, but the only one I’ve read so far so I can’t vouch for the others. That said, it reads well as a standalone so you can try it and see if you want more.

Kushiel (Kushiel’s Dart, Kushiel’s Chosen, Kushiel’s Avatar) - Jacqueline Carey. Politics a la Game of Thrones, but told from the perspective of a courtesan, in a world where the whores have voices and agency. Beautiful prose, lots of sex (including the associated content warnings, but focused largely on the power dynamics rather than the sex itself), and political intrigue set in a secondary-world variant of Europe (with forays further afield). Tends to divide opinion: if it’s your thing it’s very much your thing, and if it’s not you’ll probably hate it.

Machineries of Empire (Ninefox Gambit, Raven Stratagem, Revenant Gun) - Yoon Ha Lee. In theory this is scifi rather than fantasy, but it’s heavily fantasy-leaning scifi, so it counts. Very definitely dark, to the point of reading like idfic in the best way possible. Every single content warning you could possibly think of probably applies at some point, in some way. It’s a lot, and I love every single weird, fucked-up thing it chooses to be. There are also some excellent characters spanning the full range of My Type, which, given usually I get one or maybe two of those in any given book/series, is a fucking treat. All kinds of pain, exploration of identity and agency, politics and game theory…something for everyone, is what I’m saying (though also very much not a series I’d recommend to everyone).

Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb (too many to list, but you can find a suggested reading order here). I tend to think of Robin Hobb’s books as not so much 'dark’ as 'heavy’, and it depends on which sub-series you’re reading, but I’m throwing them on this list because Robin Hobb is another one of those authors who doesn’t shy away from things. She doesn’t skim the surface of torturing her characters, or subjecting them to consequences, or allowing everything and its dragon mother to go to absolute shit; no, she doubles down and commits. Which sometimes is exactly what you want, as a reader, and sometimes means it’s time to take a break and go get a cup of tea. Her books definitely aren’t for everyone, but I love what she’s done with the world she builds, and the way it starts out feeling like Just Another Fantasy Setting until it’s too late, you’re invested now, and when the tables start turning there’s nothing you can do but hold on for the ride. Also, really fucking awesome dragons.

A Resurrection of Magic (Skin Hunger, Sacred Scars, incomplete) by Kathleen Duey. I hesitate to put this on the list because it’s an incomplete series and likely to stay that way, but it’s interesting and has a specific…flavour to its darkness that I very much enjoy. The story is told alternating between two narrators and timelines, one in which magic has been banned and largely erased from the world and one in which it has been brought back in a tightly controlled school where mere survival is a high mark of success.

Sunshine by Robin McKinley. Urban fantasy that is its own coffeeshop AU, in a way that is almost but not quite entirely unlike everything that description would evoke. Dark and arguably quite gritty, but with balancing moments of absolute beauty, an impressively rich urban-magic world, and a unique narrative voice. Leaves an astonishing number of loose ends and unanswered questions for a standalone novel; some love that and some hate it.

Vicious by V.E. Schwab. Friends-to-enemies with superpowers, written by an author who clearly loves villains and villainy and explorations thereof. Weirdly a little lighter in some ways than others on this list, but definitely enjoyable. Has a sequel (Vengeful) which I’ve yet to read. Her Darker Shade of Magic series is also worth a read; the plots are simple but the characters are interesting, and again there’s some loving attention paid to all the different variations of the darkness within.

Wind on Fire (The Wind Singer, Slaves of the Mastery, Firesong) - William Nicholson. This is another series that is ostensibly for younger readers (the first book is probably best described as 'children’s horror’), but one of those where you look back a decade or so later and think 'oh, okay, that was uh…darker than I realised at the time’. I should caveat that I haven’t re-read these books since first reading them around age 10 or 12, so take this recommendation with a grain of salt.

[marymccartneyphotos]

A Picture of Devotion to Linda

July, 2008-- The Herald

If there is one overriding theme that comes over powerfully when talking to Mary McCartney it is how strong a bond of love and respect she had, and has, for her mother Linda. The late American photographer and businesswoman and her husband, the former Beatle, Paul, famously had one of the most enduring love affairs of modern times: she was the proverbial great woman standing, if not behind, then beside, a great man.

But what is abundantly clear from speaking to the couple's daughter, Mary, 38, is that behind both was an uncommonly close and loyal family, a closeness that remains. Earlier this year, to mark a decade since Linda died of breast cancer, Mary and her father unveiled a retrospective in London of Linda's work, which the pair had been working on for three years. Right now, the whole family, including Mary's fashion designer sister Stella, are closely involved in revitalising the Linda McCartney vegetarian food range, something Mary describes as "a very personal project".

In addition Mary, now herself a respected photographer, has become a strong advocate of good cancer care. So when she was approached by Maggie's Cancer Caring Centres to take photographs of famous Maggie's supporters wearing striking, new designer T-shirts, she was delighted to lend her support. The photographs, being published for the first time as part of The Herald Friends of Maggie's campaign, feature celebrities including the actress Amanda Holden, and the singer Sophie Ellis Bextor pictured with her mother, the former Blue Peter presenter Janet Ellis, whose friend Caron Keating died of breast cancer in 2004.

Coming together for the photos in the new London Maggie's centre gave McCartney the chance to spend time with staff and patients. She found the whole experience "truly inspiring" and believes her mother would have, too.

"I think she would have loved it," says Mary emphatically. "It feels like it's been designed to keep everyone's spirits up, which I think she would have liked." Thinking about her mother's period of treatment, she recalls strip lighting, a lack of windows and a distinct hospital smell, which Maggie's avoids: "It isn't dull, dark and depressing. There's glass, wood, colour and daylight, it's very open plan. It didn't feel oppressive. It's a real contrast to hospitals - you can allow in so much air and it doesn't have the smell. You walk in and it feels like a well-designed space."

Another factor that would have appealed to the redoubtable Linda, she says, is that it is well run. "I think she probably would have appreciated the organisational aspect of it - it doesn't feel flaky."

When Linda McCartney was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1995, it was Mary's first experience of cancer at close hand. Her head was full of questions about this bewildering new visitor to their lives. "It's like learning a new language - chemotherapy, radiotherapy, all the different medicines. It can be very daunting," she says. So the fact that Maggie's centres provide support and information to the families as well as the patient, deeply impresses her. "It's so important. I find that it's the kind of illness where there are always so many decisions to make.

"The day I was at Maggie's, there was a husband there with his wife, collecting the medication for the week, and he was having a consultation with one of the counsellors. He said he saw a counsellor each week. I think he really benefited from it as well. They can help give you information so you can feel more confident about moving forward.

"That's why I feel quite strongly that there should be as many of these centres as possible because they're such a great help to people."

A loving family is a great support and the McCartney family were certainly that. Mary has an elder half-sister from Linda's first marriage, Heather, who was adopted by Paul; a younger sister, Stella, the fashion designer; and a younger brother, James, a musician and songwriter. The family adopted a low profile during Sir Paul McCartney's recent divorce from Heather Mills, which generated weeks of headlines. "I wasn't really surprised by the amount of coverage but I definitely kept out of it. I didn't read a lot of it," she says. Mary herself has two sons from her marriage to producer Alistair Donald and is expecting her first child with film-maker Simon Aboud. In fact, as we speak she is a weary nine-and-a-half months pregnant.

As a parent, she believes she has taken a lot from her own upbringing, such as "giving my children a sense of freedom, encouragement and adventure, which I got from my parents". Family holidays in Argyll were central to that. "We'd spend August up there. I kind of feel as if I grew up there," she says. She recalls driving up from the south of England in the summer, past mountain springs, looking in amazement at remote crofts and wondering what the occupants did when they needed a pint of milk. Her experience of exploring for hours and "being a bit feral" is deeply etched.

Has she come to Scotland recently? "I haven't as much since my mum passed away but I'm starting to really get a craving to go again now," she says. "I think we all stopped for a while because it felt a bit weird going up without her, but now it's kind of time to start again."

One of the projects that has been occupying her and her family recently has been "revitalising" the Linda McCartney vegetarian food range, which was launched in 1991. Mary had helped her mother with both her cookbooks and food range. Last year, the firm Hain Celestial bought the licence to the foods and the McCartney family (who are all vegetarian) have since been working with the firm, not only with photography and packaging design, but with new lines. "We're working with them on coming up with ideas based on the recipes that mum had and the way she cooked. We're very hands-on. We want to do it for her, the way she would have wanted it done."

Mary's photography, too, is in a sense a tribute to her mother. Linda Eastman McCartney photographed stars such as Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan and The Doors. When Mary decided to become a photographer too, Linda was thrilled. "She was really happy, really pleased," says Mary, with a smile. "If I'd had a day taking pictures, she'd go how did it go? When do you get the contact sheets back? Phone me the minute you get them back and come down and we'll go through them.'" While McCartney does a lot of fashion photography, which is a more formal style, she definitely sees similarity between her and her mother's styles when it's just her and her camera.

Her eye for fashion has certainly been caught by the new Maggie's T-shirts, exclusively designed by Dandy Star. The colourful T-shirts each bear one of three words, "hope", "joy" or "be", chosen to represent the ethos of Maggie's; McCartney says they made her job as a photographer easy. "They're great; often charity T-shirts are things you love because they're for a great cause but these are the ones that a lot of people would want to wear anyway. They're bright, simple and they've got good typography on them; they're not filled with logos."

She hopes her photographs promoting the T-shirts will encourage more people to support Maggie's: "It's just a really really important organisation."

T-shirts are available in a range of colours for men, women and children; price £20 adults, £15 children. Men's M, L and XL, available in brown (joy) and purple (hope). Women's S, M and L, available in green (joy) or purple (hope). Children's 1-10yrs, available in purple (be). Can be found at Maggie's online shop at http://shop.maggiescentres.org or from Maggie's centres.

[soveryanon]

Some thoughts about MAG121! (... it ended up getting long, rambling and screaming ahead.)

- “Antonio” had been one of my hypotheses for the first episode (same as season2!Jon: try to consider all the possible options, increase statistical chance to be right about one of them), since he had popped up a few times through allusions when crystal shops were involved:

(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) These dreams have been a regular part of my sleeping for about eight years now. Even as life improved and I found a new job and place to live – believe it or not I now work selling crystals and tarot cards in a “magic” shop – they continued to crop up a few times each month.

(MAG032, Jane Prentiss) I had a job. I sold crystals. […] I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear.

(MAG042, Jennifer Ling) […] I saw someone staring at me from the doorway of a small shop. The sign above didn’t have an obvious name, simply reading “Crystals. Books. Tarot”. He was tall, black and careworn, deep lines of worry etched into an otherwise handsome face.

… but I had pictured a visit paid to the Archives, not… apparently-already-turned-Avatar!Oliver visiting Jon at the hospital and basically encouraging him in this path, SHHHHHHHIT. (Handsome black queer Death Prophet introducing himself officially, and Tim isn’t around anymore for this, I feel cheated (like Death). I… had been wondering if Tim hadn’t met the guy off-screen towards the end of season 3, since he sounded unsettlingly convinced that he wouldn’t come back… And now, I kinda hope that it really didn’t happen – it would probably have make him lose faith in (in)humanity even further. Oliver would have told him to “rest in pieces”, uh.)

- … I’m also so, so mad, because, yes, I had spotted him in MAG032 and MAG042; but I had totally overlooked the fact that he had lied/concealed some information back when he’d given his statement (March 14th 2015) and it’s so, so obvious in retrospect, gdi!!! He totally got me with the seemingly pure good boy utterly honest façade, and nop, he’s just super good at casually lying/dissimulating while pretending to be charmingly deadpan honest, which he did again with Georgie by introducing himself as “Antonio” without missing a beat (lol) (don’t misunderstand, I’m love him, his voice was effing amazing, and also WOW WHAT A LITTLE SHIT).

(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) I tell you this because I feel you have a right to know the sort of timescales that we’re dealing with here. I haven’t had much of a chance to experiment or see anything more specific, I’m afraid. There are so many people who die in London, and I know so few of them.

^he only gave the two examples of his ex-colleague’s (a “John” =D) and of his father’s deaths, but he worked in Jane Prentiss’s shop before she gave her statement in February 2014; he had already seen her, seen her condition (and it looked… really fucked up) and yet didn’t mention it at all in his statement, and… it should have ticked me off, damnit!! Same with MAG042 (statement given November 3rd 2013):

(MAG042, Jennifer Ling) When he saw me looking at him, he began to walk up to me, still with that intense look. I took a couple of steps back, and asked if I could help him. He shook his head as if unsure what to say, then asked me what I was listening to. A chill ran over me as I realised he was staring at my ears. I said I wasn’t listening to anything, as I wasn’t wearing headphones, and asked him what he wanted. He shook his head again, and mumbled something about protecting my hearing. He turned away then, and started walking back into the shop.

He thought that Jennifer was wearing earphones!! Because there were roots in her ears!! He couldn't see her ears!! Because he was seeing it live, not remembering it from his dreams!! Gdi!!! I’m still so mad I hadn’t realized, it was just right there!!

(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) Or maybe they just couldn’t be seen, fighting off death for so long that when it came at last its icy tendrils covered every inch of them.

That “icy”: he knew that they were cold because he had already touched them!!! Damnit!!

- … there is some ambiguity about the number of statements he gave (I definitely heard the plural in the second sentence?):

(MAG121) OLIVER: I gave the old woman a statement, so, maybe I owe you one as well. […] So. My name is Oliver Banks. In my other statements, I used the name “Antonio Blake”, but I don’t really think either name has much meaning for me anymore.

So, mmmm, is there another one laying around, or did Gertrude take a live statement from him after his written one?

- efhrefdjknefd about the fact that the One Person Sent To Talk To Jon would be calling him “Jon” (“Hum… Hello, Jon. Do you… mind, if I call you Jon? I, I mean. You don’t actually know me, it’s just… well. “Archivist”, it���s so… formal, isn’t it?”), while, until now, other avatars had called him “Archivist” without batting an eye:

(MAG039) PRENTISS: Archivist. (MAG047) MICHAEL: There has never been a door there, Archivist, your mind plays tricks on you. (MAG089) JUDE: No more questions, Archivist! (MAG091) MIKE: Archivist. Take my mercy and leave. (MAG097) NIKOLA: Question time is over, little Archivist. (MAG100) HELEN: Time is hard, Archivist. It’s difficult to follow without a proper mind, especially here.

(Nikola also used “Jon” sometimes, but it had mostly been “Archivist”, and hey, ~the Stranger is not known for its consistency~) -> Dat sweet-talking and trying to get in Jon’s good graces by calling him by his name, while he usually goes into squint&snarl mode as soon as he’s called “Archivist”. Oliver’s obsession with finally being able to have a good night (he wanted a “dreamless sleep”, recalled his “desperation to finally have a good night’s sleep”, “to have one good night’s sleep”) must also have hit a bit close to home, uh.

- Martin begging for Jon to wake up and help them, finally accepting a deal that sounded shady to protect the others since Jon is still unresponsive => Jon: *stays undead* Handsome black mlm passing by to tell his story, right after Valentine’s day => Jon: *HEAVY BREATHING.*

- In all seriousness, I wonder how Oliver’s statement expressed itself in Jon’s mind: were they suddenly on the boat, breaking the cycle of Jon’s dreams? Did Jon indeed feel a “fear”, since Oliver is already an avatar? (Julia&Trevor hadn’t really sounded afraid when he quickly saw them in their dream, in MAG120.) Interestingly, it looks like Oliver could see Jon’s dreams, or at least knew their content, inside of his own dreams?

(MAG121) OLIVER: […] And I do kind of know you? Haven’t had much choice, really. Dreams are like that, y’know: no matter how lucid you think they are, there is always that part that just drags you along. Guess I don’t need to tell you that, at least… not right now. […] I s’pose there’s only so long you can dream about someone and not at least try to find them. […] I don't talk to many people these days. Putting my thoughts outside myself, it's gets a bit… hm… clumsy. […] ‘wish there was a better way, but… Touching someone’s mind, it’s not… as simple as that, is it? Doesn’t always make things clearer, y’know? Still. I gave the old woman a statement, so, maybe I owe you one as well. That’s how it works, right? Give you a terror. Give you a dream. ‘t’s not like I don’t have ‘em to spare. Mm. Let me tell you about how I tried to escape.

It’s… curious, given that he used to dream of people themselves (how do the tendrils interact with Jon’s… state?); but it looks like in Jon’s case, he could access Jon’s dreams, since he knew what Jon has been experiencing. Is he currently able to communicate with people through dreams? (Either something he developed since his 2015 statement, either yet something else he didn't bother to mention at the time?) (I do wonder how Jon’s choice manifested in his dream, too! Was it to face the Eye, since Elias had narrated that Jon… was basically trying to escape its gaze/pretending that it wasn’t there by focusing on other people, though he couldn’t not watch them anyway? I had been wondering if his clue for leaving would have to do with the “DIG” ad, since it came from Martin’s statement, static included; or from Helen’s door, since… “He does not know what is behind it anymore, and he is deathly afraid of finding out. The Archivist turns away.” (MAG120) sounded like Jon fleeing, and also the least Beholding-like thing he did in the cycle of dreams.)

- I’m laughing SO HARD about how Oliver had quite clearly been sent by The Web:

(MAG121) OLIVER: [SIGH] I wish I could tell you why I came here. I wish I knew why I came here. I s’pose there’s only so long you can dream about someone and not at least try to find them. […] Then again, maybe I’ve just wasted my breath. But I don’t think so. Honestly, hum, I'm still not exactly sure why I’m here. But… you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asked!

(The fact that he tried to rationalize actions that he had not chosen is quite reminiscent of the effects Trevor had described in MAG056: “The weirdest sensation began to flow through me; I wanted to leave. […] This was just a sudden awareness of my own desire. I’d been sober for three years at that point, but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night. Looking back, I think it might have been my own mind rationalizing the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful.”) … and that’s the thing that made Jon tip over. He had been holding on for six months, prisoner in his dreams and under the big eyeball’s stare, and the thing that apparently made him ~choose~… was the message that The Web sent him. That’s so rude towards Beholding, Jon =D

- Also it’s the *screams* confirmation that… Jon probably never really escaped Mr. Spider back when he was a kid. At the very least, the spiders have plans for him, and it’s apparently in their interest to have Jon functioning, whether it stems from a Web-Beholding alliance or from the Web having its own plan and trying to hijack the chessboard. As far as the tense relationship between The Web and free will is concerned, I remembered something Elias had said a while back:

(MAG092) ELIAS: […] And your will is still your own, mostly.

………… that “mostly”………..…………… Elias, what do you know about this…….. (I’m still unable to pinpoint, for a lot of things regarding Elias, if the answer is “he knows a lot” or “he barely knows anything and only manages to stay in control because he’s a very pretty/lucky complete buffoon”.) (In the same exchange, there was that moment of “Feels like all I’ve managed to do is… not die.” “And believe me, that is a remarkably rare skill.” and that also does take another dimension now fedhbjnefd.)

- Relatedly: if Jon indeed gave himself up to Beholding… well… Gods. Gooooooods. I am not ready for elated!Elias since uwu!! Jon chose this path himself!! uwu. We already had a glimpse of it in MAG102 (“No, Jon, this is good! It’s a promising development!”) but I think nobody is ready for Elias being elated over something Jon-related again. (… Except for Ben, probably.) Will Elias make arrangements to send a Congratulations postcard and/or flowers to Jon from his cell. Will Jon still be Jon enough to dump them in the trash.

- Important logistic question: did Jon receive his salary during his coma, and what happened to his shiny new flat? According to Georgie, he hadn’t been paid during his, erm, escapade from the police&the Institute at the beginning of season 3 (for a bit more than two months) (though it could have been Jon avoiding to use his bank account altogether in order to not get tracked down):

(MAG099) ARCHIVIST: Look, G– Georgie, I need to move out. GEORGIE: Umm… yeah. I thought you were looking for a place. Y’know, now, now you’ve got a salary again.

(Elias, you could have at least compensated him for the weeks he spent on the run since he worked even more than usual if his sleep schedule is any indication, you’re a terrible boss in more than one aspect.) So, yeah. Does Jon still have his new flat, or will he have to find a new one again (or go back to Georgie’s, or… keep definitive residence in the Archives).

- Same question as I’d asked myself during the trailer: is the clock in Jon’s hospital room specifically the clock from Elias’s office, and did Elias arrange for this? Since we first heard it, I’ve been wondering if it had… something behind it (aside from informing the listeners that scenes were taking place in Elias’s office). Bones, or something else entirely. It’s super ominous on its own, the regular sound being half a constant reminder that things are advancing their natural course, and half a feeling of mechanicalness and of things being trapped in an cyclical system! But I do wonder if that clock had a function in-universe, too, since… it’s very noticeable. At the very least, Oliver’s words resonated strongly with it

(MAG121) OLIVER: Time is like that, isn’t it? Just keeps going. No matter what happens, it just carries on. And it strips everything away from you in the end; the good, and the bad alike, until there is nothing left of either. “This too shall pass”, “All good things come to an end”. “Memento mori”.

and it was a beautiful (and terrible) atmosphere.

- It’s possible that Georgie and Martin have met off-screen!!

(MAG121) OLIVER: Uh… uh, I’m a friend. Of Jon’s. GEORGIE: Are you now. OLIVER: Y– y– yes. GEORGIE: Right. Just… haven’t you seen visiting before.

Well, that depends if Martin has been visiting often but… Georgie sure is keeping a close watch on Jon. I wonder if Jon will still be in a state to feel guilty about it, since… ~before~ the coma, he didn’t want for her to get involved further and in the end, she did.

- I love that she’s also picky about the friends Jon should be surrounding himself with, but she quite clearly understood that Oliver was bad news (“Sorry about that. But you really don’t need friends like th–”). What was the reason she chased Oliver at the end? Because the tape recorder was running and it usually didn’t react when she was there? Because there was something weird already with Jon’s body? Or did Oliver leave something in the room for Jon, a gift from The Web? (… or could it be specifically the zippo again, returning to Jon? We don’t know if Martin had used it in MAG118, but it could have been, since it could burn statements…)

- I’ll forever be laughing at the fact that Jonathan fucking Sims dated someone who would later be a supernatural podcaster who says “spooktacular”, but at the same time, I Would Die For Georgie Barker:

(MAG121) OLIVER: I’m Antonio. GEORGIE: Sure. OLIVER: Do you mind, uh… giving us a minute? GEORGIE: No, I think you’re done here. OLIVER: Oh. Uh, right. H… have I upset you, miss? GEORGIE: No, you just remind me of someone. OLIVER: Ah, I’m sorry. Were they– GEORGIE: Evil. Yes. OLIVER: … Oookay then. I, I just, guess I should just go. GEORGIE: I guess you should.

This was the first time we've heard Georgie interact with someone else than Jon, and… Georgie!!! GEORGIE!!!!!!! I’m guessing that “someone” was referring to the events in the dissection class, since that was an agent of The End too… and now I’m worried for her, since woops, they’re related to the same shade of fear, and the idea that Georgie is getting involved in that, or at least with people deeper in it than she is… is worrisome.)

- Well. I’m assuming that Oliver chose to serve The End, it sounds pretty clear to me? He wouldn’t be punning that much about it if it wasn’t the case (do you get more powerful when you pun about your patron all the time. *eyes Elias*). I’m not sure about the rest of his situation, though, since… I saw a few other people mention it, and same, Point Nemo sounded like a Lonely and Vast territory – different powers fighting to get the upper hand influence-wise, like at Hill Top Road? The shades bleeding into each other in the spectrum of colours-that-hate-me? I had wondered, with MAG011 alone, whether “Antonio” was actually under The End’s or Beholding’s influence – the latter because… there were, and there still is in MAG121, a lot of references about him witnessing without being able to help and slowly coming to terms with that fact, his being mostly a passive observer overall, unable to do anything about it, and the idea that, when given a choice, he wanted to see, even when it wouldn’t do him any good:

(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) Eventually my wandered drifting led me back to the Barclays building. Something inside me wanted to go inside, to see what it was like in this rhythmic, fleshy dreamscape. […] I was aware that I had two choices: to follow the light to wherever it might lead or to turn and retreat into the waking world. I decided to follow the path of that scarlet glow […].

(MAG121) OLIVER: I don’t know why I did it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, walking past my own home in a dream, but I just… Maybe I wanted it this way.

By contrast, his ascension made him take an active part, with him purposely leading people to their deaths… So I don’t know if this was The End all along, or Oliver switching from another power to The End, à la Mike Crew? Also, we don’t know if he’s gay or bi/pan (he’s a mlm at the very least, since he mentioned his ex-boyfriend Graham) but: it would add another dimension to the fact that he referred to The End as a He while The Web (or its avatar) gets a She =D (My Patron Is More Appealing To Me.)

- ……………….. okay, so this statement seems to confirm that Avatars tend to have a death experience or something close to it in order to… become. It’s unclear if Jane Prentiss had clinically died when she was treated, but as for others:

(MAG089) JUDE PERRY: […] It became clear that, where once I had destroyed to fuel my life, I now lived for the pain that I caused. […] I doused myself in kerosene and set it alight. […] As the heat warped my bones and bubbled my flesh, all I heard was the loving exaltation of my god.

(MAG089) MIKE CREW: […] In the end I threw myself into the arms of that vast emptiness, and I bound my tormentor to the book.

(MAG109) ARCHIVIST: Last I heard, you were dying of lung cancer. TREVOR: I was. ARCHIVIST: And now? TREVOR: I’m not. [CHUCKLES]

(MAG121) OLIVER: […] I could feel all their eyes lock to me, panicked, hoping for some sort of explanation. I almost tried to give them one, but I barely got the first word out before the falling satellite debris hit the ship at two hundred miles an hour, killing us instantly.

Mike jumped from a tower pursued by a Lichtenberg figure; Jude immolated herself; Trevor was dying from lung cancer (and Martin thought that people had mentioned he had died after the first part of his statement); Oliver explicitly states that he died (and yet is still present in some way, and corporeal enough to need to open and close the door). That. Sounds. Really. Really. Bad. For. Jon. Given that, for all of them, it was presented as a turning point – the thing that made them tip over into another sort of existence. Interestingly, Jon got… many of his powers before this stage (compulsion, the ability to Know things he had never learned as highlighted by Elias in MAG102 and later Tim in MAG114, the languages-thing, the ability to… See?, unravelling one’s story, as he did in MAG119, and the nightmares-sharing as we learned in MAG120), but Trevor had the ability to feel the vampires his entire life, and Jude set someone on fire before completing her transformation.

I’M DEVASTATED BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT JON WAS AFRAID OF, ESPECIALLY AFTER TALKING WITH OTHER AVATARS, GDI!!! The prospect of becoming a monster and of losing himself like the others… shook him quite badly at the time.

(MAG092) ARCHIVIST: So it’s… it’s back to breadcrumbs, and statements, and risking my life talking to things that barely remember how to be human anymore? [...] Am I… Elias, am I still human? ELIAS: Jon, what does human even mean? I mean, really? You still bleed, you can still die. And your will is still your own, mostly. That’s more than can be said for a lot of the “real’ humans out there. … You’re worried about ending up like that thing, lurking in the dirt under the streets of Alexandria? Don’t be. Just do what you need to, and you’ll be fine. Understood?

(MAG093) ARCHIVIST: You’ve seen monsters? GEORGIE: Not the time, Jon. ARCHIVIST: Right, it’s… it’s just I think I’m turning into one. GEORGIE: Really? That’s… not great. […] ARCHIVIST: But [Avatars] end up getting these abilities, and they lose a lot of their self. Sometimes all of it. GEORGIE: And you think… that’s what’s happening to you? ARCHIVIST: Yes. Yes. The Institute serves one of these beings. A–At least, Elias, who runs the place, does. Since accepting the Archivist job, I–I’ve been… different.

(MAG114) TIM: So, why don’t you “Archivist” me, then? Just pull it straight out. ARCHIVIST: Because I don’t want to! I am not your enemy, Tim. TIM: [DISMISSIVELY] Like that matters! These things aren’t human. It’s… instinct. You can’t not. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] I’m still me, Tim. [TIM HUFFS] I’m still… me.

(MAG115) HELEN: We’re both changing, Archivist. I had hoped, that together– ARCHIVIST: [FURIOUS] Get out. HELEN: Archivist�� ARCHIVIST: Get. Out.

… And at the same time, Oliver’s statement just highlighted how… far Jon was from the state the other Avatars were in just before they turned into their current beings? Jude Perry was depressed, isolated, straying away from her girlfriend (projecting Agnes on her instead) and decided to start killing pretty easily. Mike Crew had lost his parents and was apparently quite solitary, and discovered along the way that he didn’t mind killing (MAG089: “My experiments weren’t entirely pointless, though, they did have a truth to me. I learned that I was more than capable of killing, if it brought me closer to what I needed.”) Oliver didn’t sound like he had anyone who could have mattered to him (we knew he’d lost his father in MAG011, but he didn’t mention any other family member or friend in MAG121) and… decided, at the end, to kill everyone on board. Their transformations were all preceded by them losing touch with their previous surroundings, to replace it by their dedication to their god? (Iirc, one of the Q&A had even explicitly referred to the relationship between the Hive and Jane Prentiss as a clear case of toxic/abusive love.)

But Jon… Jon had precisely being going in the opposite direction in season 3: where it wouldn’t only be about him, but about the others, and about trusting them, even artificially. That was the decision he had made.

(MAG0117) ARCHIVIST: […] Still, it does sometimes make it hard to… fully trust them, I–  … [SIGHS] You– you know what, no. I’m… I’m done with that. No more paranoia. It’s almost got me killed more than once, and… Georgie was right. If I am… slipping, then I need people I can trust. And I… I don’t think that can happen naturally for me an–anymore, so… I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them. E– except Elias, obviously, that’s not– I mean… I’ve listened to the tapes. I’ve listened to the tape, I– I know what they talk about behind my back, how much they’ve… suffered… because of… this place… because of me. God. Poor Melanie. […] I do worry about Martin and Melanie, leaving them behind, but… I– I suppose that’s- part of trusting someone, isn’t it? Letting them help how they can.

(MAG0118) TIM: You thought you brought me in as a distraction, right? ARCHIVIST: What?! TIM: Let me do it! Go in, maybe you can get some of them– ARCHIVIST: Tim, contrary to what you think, I did not bring you here to indulge your death wish! […] I knew none of us might be coming back, and I’m not gonna let anyone get killed for nothing! […] I am not losing you as well!!

I’m a big sap when it comes to the Power Of Friendship (feed it to meee!!), and I’m also aware that it might nnnnot go down super-well in a horror podcast where Bad Things Happen, but part of me still… hopes, very deeply, that it mattered in Jon’s apparent decision to not die-die (which meant, if we judge by others’ stories, to give himself up, be it to Beholding or to another one).   … Two counter-arguments, though: Jon spent six months in his loop of nightmares, which… could have been enough to break him quite a bit, and to reduce him to a state in which his decisions at the end of season 3 don’t matter much to him (or what’s left of him) anymore. There is also the feeling that Avatars tend to… look down? on their past selves and feelings, as if they now knew some deeper truth that invalidates their past thinking, and a bit like they're… rewriting their own story in order to conclude that what they became was the logical achievement of who they were?

(MAG032, Jane Prentiss) Perhaps I’ve always heard it. Perhaps the itch has always been the real me, and it was the happy, smiling Jane who called herself a witch and drank wine in the park when it was sunny. Maybe it was her who was the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what I am. Of what we all are, when you strip away the pretense that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. That love us in their way.

(MAG089) JUDE PERRY: I know now they were simply guiding me upon the path to my true epiphany. All this time I was serving my god, but only for my own glory. But with each new gift, each renewal of the fire, I saw how lifeless and hollow it was, how grey and ashen my existence had become. It became clear that, where once I had destroyed to fuel my life, I now lived for the pain that I caused. And for Agnes. My sweet, hopeless Agnes. And so I ended it.

(MAG091) MIKE CREW: I know it was the first storm, the first real storm, I had seen for almost ten years, but nothing else remains in my mind. There are echoes of resignation, I think, almost desperation. That can’t be right, though. What reason would I have had not to jump? Not to become as I am now. Perhaps I just didn’t know the true joy of vertigo. It doesn’t matter.

(MAG121) OLIVER: […] That was it with the old woman too. That was different, though. Way I figure it? She stuck her nose in just about everywhere it wasn’t wanted and stirred up hornets. ‘Till all the precautions in the world couldn’t stop Death from finally catching her. If I’d’ve known more back then, I’m… not sure I would’ve bothered trying to warn her. Still… you live and learn, don’t you? […] And the worst part is that somewhere, in me, I… I liked it. Underneath all that awful fear, it felt like… home.

(Oliver had also mentioned that the tendrils had felt “almost affectionate” at first. We… really got to witness his degradation: he had initially tried to stop what was supposed to happen (with his father), he switched to warning (Jennifer from MAG042, Gertrude in MAG011), and then, was just witnessing (the “Thomas” whose identity he stole in MAG121) until… he brought around ten people to the spot where they were supposed to die, actively ensuring that they would all meet their planned ends. On the one hand, he became his current self in just two years since his first statement; on the other end, he had already concealed a lot of things in that statement from two years ago and was already deeper in that he had claimed, but overall, that… doesn’t bode well for Jon’s evolution, yeah.)

Of course, it’s only natural to come up with different conclusions at the time you’re experiencing something and in hindsight (knowing where they led to in the end, the mistakes you were making, the consequences your actions would bear), but it. still. sounds A LOT like a kind of brainwashing…? And we don’t know yet what Jon’s state of mind was when he “chose” in MAG121, though we do know that he was, personality-wise, The Best/Worst Possible Person to get into Beholding stuff, yeah, because he… had had the craving for novelty since he was a kid and the tendency to pursue knowledge at all costs (MAG093, Georgie: “That does at least explain why he picked you. […] If your job is asking questions, I mean. You were always the one who pushed too far, and asked smart-arse, awkward questions. I always was surprised you never got punched.”) Except for Mike, who switched, the Fears tend to choose people who will fit in with them and… that’s… bad…

- So overall: no idea if we’ll perceive drastic changes in Jon right away, or if it will be a slow slippery slope. I’m… worried for the hospital staff, though; Jon seems to have understood the correlations between live-statements and his dreams by the end of season 3 (MAG113: “I’m not too concerned, to be honest, my dreams are, uh… well, let’s just say I don’t think they’re going be letting anyone else in any time soon.”); we know from Basira and Daisy that it’s not only Jon, that it also affects the statement-givers unless they’re Archival Assistants and/or directly working for the Institute (MAG112: “Are you sleeping?” “Yeah. … Do you still have the dreams?” “Um, no, not really. Not since we joined up here, I don’t think. You?” “Yeah.”) and… there is a clear line between being harmful without knowing, and being harmful despite knowing (but not caring and/or prioritizing one’s own gain). So I’m afraid that Jon might extort a statement or two as soon as he wakes up, if he’s hungering for them and/or wants to get better, after having been deprived of them for so long.

I mean, I’m totally expecting Jon to go bad – and I’m not quite ready for it right now, but then, it’s not like I can’t expect my feelings to get repeatedly crushed by a lead pipe in this series, I know what I signed for, I’m in for the ride, I’ll Take It Anyway >:3 But I’m a bit more concerned about the idea of following Jon as he knowingly hurts people and doesn't care… without anyone there to remind us that hey! This is bad, actually?, and without… anything about the people Jon is making suffer. It’s not only about Jon: it’s about them, becoming victims through their live-statements, apparently being haunted by them in their dreams through Jon? (The series has been great, though, at making us feel like all these Characters Of The Day are people, with their own lives and stories, so I trust that there will be… something about the fact that this is happening to them! Also, I don’t know if Georgie has been suspecting something regarding the dreams, but if characters managed to piece things together, then, I doubt that Georgie would allow Jon to run wild? Mmmartin might, maybe a bit, but not Georgie. She might not outright kill him if she sees he’s gone bad, but she would scream at him until he puts effort into fighting it as best he can.)

- Also overall: a… lot of things will depend on Jon’s state of mind, and what he's understood from Oliver’s story. I have trouble finding a “lesson” in it, honestly? What are we supposed to take away from his experience?

(MAG121) OLIVER: At that moment, a sudden calm came over me. I understood it all. I could follow the lines of the huge veins that encased the ship down into the water, leading off to a point almost a mile from the South-East. There. That was it. That was our fate. Where we would always be. Because I was going to take us there. Running was pointless. To try and to escape from my task would only serve to fulfil another. I finally understood what I needed to do. […] I don’t know where I got the gun, but once Captain Macabee was dead, the others were very keen to sail wherever I wanted.

That you can’t escape these things? That the longer you try to run, the more innocent people will get harmed because of you? That the only way for Jon to leave the dreams would be to give in (and give himself over), confirming that there is no other solution? (Oliver told Jon that he had ~to make a choice~ but… technically, Jon can’t die in this state. How could have he chosen that option? Was he waiting for someone to mercy-kill him…?) What were Jon’s options exactly, and what did he choose? We didn’t hear about the notebook that he had found in Gertrude’s hangar in MAG113 (“Names, locations, dates. I’ll, I’ll check properly later. Doesn’t look like it’s to do with the Unknowing, I don’t think.”) and it sounded valuable enough for Jon to plan to take a deeper look at it … so as usual, Jon Is Probably Ahead Of Us, and what he does and chooses to do with it will get explained later. Notes on preventing The Watcher’s Crown? On the “new emergence” mentioned by Adelard? (But if Jon indeed gave himself to The Beholding… is it possible to do it if he’s still planning on wrecking its ceremony? That’s not really giving yourself up if you don’t want it or are planning to work against it?) (So as usual: what happened, aaaaarrrrrg)

- So far, we had been hearing all the statements recorded by the Archival staff, so… has that changed, and we didn’t hear the ones being recorded by Melanie-Basira-Martin while Jon was in his coma? Or did they stop recording them? Or did the tape recorders refuse to work because Jon was away? … Or will Jon listen to them to catch up on the time he missed, and we will discover them with him – and how things apparently got progressively worse for the assistants?

- … I had been wondering about Jon’s use of the tape recorder. He used it for statements starting season 1 and, starting with the climax and all through season 2, as a way to convey his discoveries to a hypothetical successor in case something bad happened to him. In season 3, the tape recorder started to apparently turn itself on, pretty often to record quite mundane conversations, whether Jon was there or not, and in a few cases there is some ambiguity over whether or not he had actually been turning it on when he had it on him (with or without realizing it), but… there were also moments in which it was explicit that Jon wanted conversations and talks to be on tape. It culminated with the testaments in MAG117:

(MAG098) MARTIN: […] Have you seen [Jon] since…? TIM: [GRUNTS] Kind of. We tried to talk, but he, he reached for that– Ah, he, he wanted to turn on his recorder. I freaked out a bit, and I said some stuff: if he wanted to talk, no tapes, I just, I just hate that thing.

(MAG102) [CLICK] ARCHIVIST: You’re sure you don’t mind? MARTIN: No, no, no, it’s fine, I’ve… I’ve kind of stopped noticing if I’m honest. They just sort of… turn themselves on these days.

(MAG115) ARCHIVIST: […] There is nothing you want to say to me. TIM: Nothing with that thing here, no. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] Interesting. […] TIM: Why are you so set on having it running? ARCHIVIST: I… Look, if you want my honest opinion– TIM: I don’t.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I, I wanted to get some thoughts down before, er…everything. We all should, actually, I… I’ll maybe mention it to them.

……………. I’m wondering if… this wasn’t actually... all about Jon fearing that yes, he would (have to) turn into an avatar for real at some point, and it would probably fuck with his mind a bit (highlighting parts of him that were already there, but also rewiring him to serve his god’s objectives rather than what felt right to him) – and so, using the recordings in an attempt to… keep traces of who Jonathan Sims used to be, what his actual trains of thoughts were, the actual choices he made. Jon was very conscious that something else would come afterwards: Gerry had told him about The Watcher’s Crown, and Jon… sounded like he had picked up that stopping The Unknowing wasn’t an end in itself but also a way for Elias to get him closer to something:

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: […] Elias seems pretty insistent I go along. Part of me thinks it’s just so that we can see if whatever this… preparation he’s been trying to do on me works. And you know what? That same… petty little part of me… rather hopes it doesn’t; that all this time, all his… cryptic nudges and “learn to fly by falling” attitude ends up being a complete waste of time. Just to show him.

I do hope that his “I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them.” will matter in the long run, but I’m also crying in advance that it won’t and that will be the tragedy ;___; (I’m also not ready to say goodbye to Jonathan “I’d rather doom the world rather than prove something I despise right” Sims, please keep some of that stuff in you, Jon.) 

- worriedaboutmartin.jpg since… we still have no idea what happened/what’s happening… and he’s the only one left of the original assistants. Sasha got killed. Tim sacrificed himself to get his revenge, and his words from the season 2 finale are resonating more strongly than ever right now:

(MAG080) MARTIN: Sorry? Sorry, what? How can you not care!? TIM: Because this is us now. Worms. Monsters. Corridors. They’ll keep happening until one of them kills us and we’ve just got to deal with it.

I’m… really hoping that we will get some mourning around Tim – maybe not right now, but at some point, like it happened with Sasha. Sasha had been an open wound since Jon learned about her death, despite the fact that they didn’t remember her; Martin and Tim had expressed their feelings in covered-up, indirect or delayed ways, but there were still… bits that hinted that it was gnawing at them a lot more than they were saying:

(MAG082) MARTIN: Maybe they said something about Sasha, y’know? TIM: She’s dead, Martin. Come on! Even you’re not that blind. He got her too. MARTIN: Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare say that!

(MAG086) TIM: The first Sasha. What… What was she like? […] … Who am I even sad for…? MELANIE: I… I’m, I’m sorry… I don’t, er… TIM: Um… I’m, I’m going to lie down…

(MAG114) TIM: You know how long that thing pretended to be Sasha? ARCHIVIST: Oh god… TIM: And I had no idea? I knew Sasha for years, we… I don’t know Martin as well as I knew her.

(MAG117) MARTIN: Hey, hey, I mean what’s normal, right? Is living in an old document storage normal? Is losing a friend and not even noticing normal?

(MAG118) MARTIN: [DRY LAUGHTER] Dignity? Alright, yeah; like the dignity of being trapped in your flat by worms, or sleeping in the Archives, clutching a corkscrew! Or– or fetching drinks for the thing that murdered your friend without you even noticing…! Laughing at all their little jokes, then being left to wander impossible corridors for weeks!

… and just the mention of Sasha was enough to make Jon snap in two different season finales:

(MAG079) NOT!SASHA: […] And it will hurt. Oh, yes, it will hurt. It hurt Sasha. ARCHIVIST: Shut up! NOT!SASHA: [CLOSE AND DISTORTED] There you are.

(MAG0119) ARCHIVIST: Who are you?! NIKOLA: Who am I? Tim, of course! Who else would I be! ARCHIVIST: You’re not– you’re not… Tim. NIKOLA: Oh, you caught me~ I’m… Sasha! ARCHIVIST: Shut up! NIKOLA: No~! Really, it’s me! Sasha– whatever her name was! Back from the dead, just like you wanted~! ARCHIVIST: Get away from me, or, or I swear I’ll… I’ll…

It’s been a series where characters tend to take even more shape after their death, or at least… where the characters who died (or their secrets) tend to still have an influence, or to be present in other characters’ minds. Tim probably got the best ending he could have wished for in the circumstances and in the overall universe, but it was also a stupid death, intertwined with his desire to not come back and his conviction that the others had only taken him along as a distraction for the Stranger’s minions (which… didn’t sound like it was the case at all, at least in Jon’s mind: he had to accept Tim’s desire to come along in order to regain some of Tim’s trust). It was a sad death. It has the potential to hurt A Lot – and who will mourn for him, or at least highlight that what happened was plain unfair? Basira was wary of him and will have the Daisy issue in mind; Melanie didn’t hold Tim super-dearly in her heart, since he'd been an ass to her for the few times they spoke. Tim made a point of staying away from them, since he couldn’t trust them. There are only Martin and Jon to really remember Tim; it would feel… very cold and gritty? to just pass over his death as something that happened and to barely mention it, so I’m assuming that we’ll get something at some point.

The only glimmer of pain about Tim’s death that we have got was when Elias sweet-stabbed Martin about it in MAG120 (“Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim.” “Don’t.”), and Martin might not currently be around if he was heading off to somewhere dangerous in the trailer, and it’s been six months already for him, so… I don’t know! I hope that we’ll get some mourning. Jon waking up and realizing only then that Tim died when the others have already had the time to process the information in the last six months, could have the potential to be Absolutely Awful, but the whole series is a competition between Potentially Awful Things to happen (ie: will Jon still be able to care or to feel the Hurt, in his new state). At the very least, Sasha was an open wound until the end of season 3, so I don’t really see Tim’s death getting brushed off like that – it’s a series that make you care about things, a series in which wrong things are constantly highlighted and denounced. It doesn’t mean that the horror doesn’t happen, but it always has effects on people. (Also, hi! Jon’s feeble and fragile “Tim…?” was the last word he said before the explosion happened! Before Tim’s “I don't forgive you. But thank you for this.” which Jon most probably heard! I’m fine, it’s just rain falling indoors right on my cheeks!)

… This might also be why Martin accepted to do something dangerous, after checking that “they [would] be safe”. Because Basira had put her finger where it hurt, when she told him that he couldn��t just wait and hope (MAG110: “Look, Martin. I know you care. I know you do. But caring isn’t enough. You can’t just stand next to someone with a cup of tea and hope everything’s gonna be alright.”), and Martin had decided to act on it at the end of season 3 (MAG117: “Anyway. I guess I’m just sick of sitting on my hands, drinking tea and hoping everyone’s okay. This way I finally get to do something. It’s gonna hurt, but… I’m ready. And I want to.”), though… even his plan, in the end, had most of its victories sucked out of it (yes, Elias was sent to jail, but he still has blackmail material for the officers and had already made arrangements to get Peter to manage in the interim while he was gone; and Melanie resents Martin for robbing her of Elias’s murder, if Elias’s comment is any indication; and Tim died; and Daisy went into the coffin and is probably mostly gone; and Jon is unresponsive… and will only be able to come back by sinking deeper into his inhumanity). It could make sense, for Martin, to start trying to take more risks, since he… is the only one of the original assistants to have survived this far, and hasn’t even ever been physically hurt until now (though what Elias did will probably have long-lasting effects).

At the same time!! I’m!! Glad!! That the trailer was Martin apparently asking and begging for Jon’s help, but… not for Jon to wake up in itself. It sounded like the threat looming around was unrelated to Jon’s current state? And Martin did ask about the others’ safety before agreeing, which means… that he’s not doing everything for Jon and Jon only, or to protect Jon. The others factored in.

(It’s not something I believe to have happened, but the date worries me a bit further since hey! Peter Lukas had shown Interest in Martin (MAG120: “And don’t look so down! I know, change can be scary, but eventually it happens just the same. I think we’re going to great things, Martin. Great. Things.”) and Jon has been in that state from August to February, with Martin’s visit taking place at some point before he started breathing again. That time frame… would fit with the Tundra being in the UK area, if its route is annual:

(MAG033) ARCHIVIST: […] Sean Kelly disappeared from the port of Felixstowe in October 2010, and his body washed up on the coast of Morocco in April 2011, six months later. According to the coroner, it had only been in the water for five days.

Or maybe Martin still has six months to live from now on? I mean, Sasha and Tim both died around the end-of-July/beginning-of-August. Summer’s gonna get fun in the Archives.)

(ALSO WORRIED ABOUT MELANIE AND BASIRA, OF COURSE, since Martin’s “Basira’s keeping things taking over, and Melanie is… well, Melanie is Melanie…!” from the trailer isn’t announcing good news and it’s been six months, Melanie had been doing worse and worse in just a few weeks when we left her in season 3; and Basira… just lost… her own anchor… and Daisy seemed to have snapped for real – not dead, but We've Lost Her, since Jon can’t reach her dreams anymore. I think we might be switching to them in MAG122? Will ~see~ in a few hours /o/)

- … the only glimmer of hope for a Good Thing is that if (if.) Elias is still in prison, it will mean that he has spent six months in jail. I don’t know if it’s worth everything else but. Still. Possibly One (1) Good Thing.

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Montenegro to Eurovision with 6 young souls

(this is a pre-vamp review so take this whole thing as “something I wanted to publish but my schedule was withholding until it was specifically time for them to be reviewed”, therefore, this is a bit of a retrospective review. Will tackle on its revamp later!)

Montevizija, which finally has an official Twitter account (we all should forget the times some dude named Vasilije pretended to having made one), offered us another batch of 5 songs for another year, actually revealing all of them beforehand this time and not just the snippets! Joy to the world I guess.

You gotta love Montevizija for it being the most underrated ex-Yugoslavian national final btw. Granted, it only lasted for 2 editions as of now, and it will take years to grow bigger as a thing, but so far, for us the NFs that are ingrained to our brains more are Dora, EMA and Beovizija (and even Skopje Fest when THAT was used to pick an act and not just served as a festival like it originally was meant to be), therefore Montevizija seems more shunned. But what do you expect when the lineup of 5 for two years in a row is not exactly as stellar as hoped for? Well, there are gems here and there, but they haven’t really won on either years (or at least not on the 2nd year if you call Vanja’s song a gem too), and yet somehow they find someone who call them great. But for me this Montenegrin entry is not. :L

And who is up there to be colossally blamed for its existence? None other than this group of 6 refering to themselves as D mol (with “mol” decapitalized for whatever reason... they used to have hyphen separating the ‘D’ and ‘mol’, but now they scrapped it altogether, an anime death I’ll never forget). Worth noting that I, as a 19 year old, have this particularly ugly feeling I must get rid of, and that’s the one of “feeling old”, already at my age. And this is how I felt seeing that the band whose song I am not fond of today is made up by members that are of 16-17 to 21-ish years old!!! So my heart insists that I shouldn’t go too hard on these poor younglings, even if this is just me, currently tackling the brethren of my age. Prepare as I’ll go to shred their composition they’re going to Tel Aviv with, “Heaven”, to bits.

Although, what I call “shredding to bits” is merely just nitpicking the reasons the original version (keep bearing in mind that I haven’t heard the revamp yet) sucks imo, and idk, the new “Heaven” miiiiiiight just grow on me, but I heavily doubt about it because I never cared for it in the first place (youhouuu, they were my last in Montevizija ‘19 for a reason), and I’m rather looking forward for the new faves from the 8 songs I haven’t listened to yet rather than those that were already chosen. And even the Eurofans were not quite fond on the revamp, as some think the additional ethno sounds made it sound worse (and of course there are some that kinda like it or think of the song as their guilty pleasure). So why shouldn’t I? :O

Anyway, old “Heaven”. The first sounds on here to grace my ears on this song consist of one light piano note being tapped to an exact rhythm and a confused baby girl stuttering. And I’d’ve maybe enjoyed this more ironically at some point if it weren’t for the latter sound effect being re(ab)used later in the song!! Ugh I hate it. The lyrics are fine I guess... though isn’t it ironic the only English song in Montevizija’s lineup this year won?? It’s like the Montenegrin people were openly cringing when being the only ones to understand Vanja comparing his life to cat’s and mouse’s and calling his heart “the most expensive toy” in his song and then they were like “you know what? Let’s let the WHOLE Europe understand how terrible our lyrics are! ^_^” (no but for real, who still uses “I’m in heaven, falling straight into your heart” as a pick-up line? Did they travel through time from 1998 to 2019 or something???)

Speaking of the 90s, the whole song smells like a dated cliché of that period. You know, the kind of “the high school prom song from that 90s teen sitcom’s who you’re forced to watch when your elderly aunt is in the house with you and there’s nothing else on TV” dated. Dated even more than “Chain of Lights”. Seriously though! It includes the pathetic “wah wah” bassline, mid-tempo beats, the boy/girl-group harmonies... catch me puking sugar-coated cheese to this, no thanks. Oh and if you already read my “Zero Gravity” review (which you probably never even bothered to after seeing how much text would you have to read), I definitely mentioned that I’m not a fan of those “two verses-two choruses” songs, and especially those kind of ones that aren’t sounding like something suited for radio (e.g.: Poland 2018, “Light Me Up”)... this obviously sounds like something from the radio of the times the at-the-time senior highschoolers are currently over 30 or slightly over 40, and that should be 4 and a half minutes long. These verses could just not be more ridiculously dragged out for the choruses to prevail and get stuck in our brains... fucking welp [sic] me already.

Well, if there are any brownie points I could give this, it’s pleasant, it’s harmless if I don’t take into account the cheese vibes this emits, and all this bunch are made up by up-and-coming talented singers that clearly deserved a better song...

And the staging concept in their NF was cool tho (illustrating their power of D mol), and I applaud the couple chemistry I guess

Oh and this below is one of the most underappreciated memes this Euroseason:

*stares into your soul in Montenegrin*

So yeah. Oh and the Rizo(tto) guy who is self-aware of his hotness and the hotness of the much older Eurovision guys this year, but he’s not doing it for me so that I could be in heaven falling, so he’s getting a hard pass.

All in all - a nostalgia cash-in made to appease the housewives from Podgorica to Skopje, from Novi Sad to Štúrovo, and nothing quite else, sung by a cool bunch of people that if anything are deemed this year’s "great people with an unfortunately too dated song and a shitty draw” by me. I don’t know much of their personalities but I do believe that even if they like what they’re singing, they’d be much better off doing a better sounding throwback, at least. So that even the disappointed-by-”Heaven” Eurofans could at least call it “so dated but a BOP!”. And hey, I’m aware of those fans that will likely be pissed at me for not bopping along to this, but I said what I said about it and yet again, if revamp changes my mind, I will change my opinion, but right now I’d not prefer to. Grumpy Adio.

Approval factor: Hell with the no. I would like Vanja back instead. At least he made himself a somebody to be cared about even if the Eurofans didn’t quite adapt to his song in return.

Follow-up factor: somehow, both “Inje” and “Heaven” were/are seen by the masses as instant NQs, so it somehow doesn’t sound like Montenegro is following a great path so far. And after this year anything that audience favours and wins can be seen as a way better follow up after something meh coming after something wrose.

Qualification factor: For the n-th time, I’m yet to check the revamp out to state where this will actually go, but being put 2nd in the draw is a massive stab in the knee, as demonstrated by even the national finals this year (Electric Fields in Australia Decides, Aly Ryan in Unser Lied für Israel, Lisa Ajax in Melodifestivalen final... the only glaring exception is ZENA in Eurofest but is it me or these producers did this just so they could be all like “heeeey we put a winning song on 2nd just to show that a NF song can win from ANY draw! ANY DRAW!!!” lol nope), and from it only a few lucky souls have crawled out victorious (Nathan Trent for example, the draw might have pushed him down in the semi but he got up again!). D mol, for as young and developing in talent as they are, don’t seem to be such. You can be young and pitied for your personality, but you always can at the same time have a song that completely crushes your chances to do well and sweeps up the last shards of hope right in front of your eyes despite being an angel worthy of protection (Ari Ólafsson, anyone?). Unless the D molians work all their magic and the random ethnic vibes into their favour for some reason, but for now it ain’t gonna work.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

And even then, what was so interesting about Montevizija 2019?? Let’s see...

• First off, let’s address one meme of the beginning of 2019 that Facebook may or may have not used purposefully to upgrade their automatic “facial recognition” skills - the 10 years challenge. Our first one of this season is the sassy maneater who spent her ESC stint by trying to unlove a guy so hard that he just couldn’t oblige - Andrea Demirović. Her decade-later A-game happened to be this one song she sang in her mother-tongue: “Ja sam ti san” (I am your dream). Now, I wasn’t particularly into it - I enjoy some electro tracks out there (like hello, “Igranka” is one of my favourite Montenegrin entries, and 2013 entries overall as well) but this one just ended up being the right amount of cool AND overbearingly unsettling for me to not really fancy it. Kinda like “Red” by HyunA - I can only bop to this if I don’t care about the fact I actually hate it, oops. (Or maybe it is just because Andrea once again used a composition done by one of those “rent-a-NF-songwriter” people. Which is at least better than collabing Ralph Siegel who’s stopped being relevant ever since starting to work with San Marino, or even since the hilarious attempt of a peace song sung by the original common framework, six4One. But since Michael James Down has co-contributed to one of the better Montevizija songs last year, I will not allow myself to think it’s thanks to those kind of songwriters.) Nevertheless, the Eurofans actualy kind of loved this song, but sadly, Montenegrins and the international jury did quite not, and she didn’t land on to the superfinal 2 (as opposed to a superfinal 3 last year, to which she could have easily qualified if it still were a 3). Here’s her song to y’all anyways (and the performance too, which just needed to include some random monster dudes dancing around... why? Because Eurovision! ^^):

• Speaking of Andrea, during the results part there was this one shot of hers where she was pictured just casually chilling on her phone, not giving a damn that she’s being underrated on the scoreboard. Not only she was badly rated, but this moment was such an universal #mood!

• In between the finally final results announcement (which I didn’t really know when exactly was it taking place because the winner wasn’t really said out loud before the event I will describe next was taking place??) there was this lottery going on of who would be the lucky two audience observers that’d win tickets to Tel Aviv... hilariously enough though, it somehow malfunctioned and there were some sort of errors regarding the announcement of the RIGHT winner <3 but the winners happened and I hope they’re getting to go to Tel Aviv at some point during the Eurovision events! Hope they don’t feel startled by the lack of taken seats this year.

• Unlike Eesti Laul, Montevizija this year took up the job of showcasing tweets of Eurofans, and somehow this fellow fella ended up seen by a handful of Montenegrins AND international viewers. Take a wild guess which of them know what a daddy Serhat is.

• And who could not forget the magic flying envelope for to announce the winner of the NF:

there must have been some Harry Potter magic in there :O

As for what touches the other songs, well there’s the last year’s fan fave Nina Petković with another song, but it’s no “Dišem”, so don’t even bother. Or bother, but imo it’s just okay-sounding, nothing that groundbreaking or pleasant enough to be competitive. The other few songs were also nice but I’d like not to make this longer as my other write-ups, to be fair. Sucked to be Mr. Kállay-Saunders who, as the international juror chosen for this national final, had to rank its songs... as that NF happened right on the same day his second A Dal 2019 performance was taking off. Not that the international jurors were supposed to be present in Montenegro on the day of this NF, anyways...

Anyway, despite all this goddamn criticism (that could’ve flown more smooth had my computer not restarted in the middle of me doing paragraphs for this review), I’m fare welling the D mol-ians and would like to wish them a heavenly Eurovision experience. ^_^

[serensama]

To Mourn #7

Okay baby boy V- we’ve made it. We’re here. It’s time for you to let go of MC. We can do it.

Let’s go.

This will include:

1)   Profanity

2)   Trigger warning: Suicidal thoughts/situations

“Nothing comes easily Fill this empty space Nothing is like it was Turn my grief to grace Nothing comes easily Where do I begin? Nothing can bring me peace I’ve lost everything I just want to feel your embrace” “Grace- Kate Havnevik”

It would be so easy. Just turn the key, one twist of the wrist. One blink of an eye. One more breath. It would be so, so easy. He deserved something easy, just once… didn’t he?

So just do it Jihyun.

Do it.

Do it.

It was so much hotter than they had expected, the sun beating down on them as it peaked in the sky. They had been out and about for the better part of three hours already, walking the nature trails and stopping so often to take photos and rough sketches of the scenery. They had never been to this part of the mountains before and it was a nice change from their city apartment… moreover it was just nice to be with each other. Unfortunately, with Jihyun’s whirlwind art exhibit all over the world and with MC’s own hectic work life alongside with planning for the RFA parties- they hadn’t seen each other in months.

That was until she got to her office with an envelope with her name on her desk, the familiar scratchy scrawl of her husband making her smile. Taking the ridiculously expensive letter opener Jumin had gotten her for last birthday in hand, she made quick work of opening the letter for a little slightly crumpled piece of paper and one plane ticket to fall out in her awaiting palm. Smoothing out the note, chuckling to herself as she noticed the rough edges of the paper- Jihyun no doubt tearing it off the nearest book or notepad or contract he had within reach- his excitement evident even in the paper he had chosen to use to send his letter. Ah Yeobo! I can’t take it any longer, I’ve spent too much time away from you I’m beginning to forget how many crinkles your eyes have when you smile, the smell of your lotion on your skin, the sweetness of your lips on mine. I don’t want to waste another minute without you! Come and say hi to your husband- even for the weekend?

Lots of Love, Jihyun.

MC lifted the note to her lips and gave it a quick peck, her mouth stretching into a wide grin as she thought about what she would need to pack and who she needed to let know that she was going away for the weekend. She could see it so well in her head, poor little Yoosung would message her about the party details while she was in flight and she wouldn’t answer and the little cherub would panic and call her twenty times before badgering Saeyoung enough to track her. Jumin would just laugh under his breath and tell her that Jihyun was a bad influence on her, Zen telling everyone to chill because Jihyun would never let anything bad happen to her and Jaehee… Jaehee would send her a picture of herself giving her the finger with the caption “I hate that you’re able to go on an impromptu vacation. Be safe. Take care.”

She remembered sitting in the plane for the short trip, her hands wringing together in anticipation to see her kind-hearted partner, just envisioning his bright blue eyes twinkling when they finally found hers, how his arms would lock around hers and hold her so tightly she wouldn’t know where she started and he ended. The two-hour flight felt like an eternity when she knew that he would be there to greet her.

MC had barely stepped out of the gate when a bright flash sparked and she was enveloped in a warm embrace, the familiar mixture of cologne, soap and paint thinner assaulting her, tears coming unbidden to her eyes as she lifted her arms up to return the hug. She laughed as he pressed kisses along her cheek and down her jawline, the three-day scruff on his chin grazing along her sensitive skin causing goosebumps to raise along her arms. God, she really missed him. “I missed you so much MC, let’s never be apart for this long again,” he breathed into her ear, returning his face into the crook of her neck as he nosed her hair, no doubt trying to steal as much of her scent as possible. Unable to find her voice, her throat closed up threatening to choke on her own cries, she nodded vehemently and clung onto him more desperately as her tears spilled down onto his shoulder. Jihyun, being the gentleman that he was simply smiled before pulling back to press light kisses on the apples of her cheeks to halt them in their place.  He had kissed every part of her body that night, the couple making up for months of not being by each other’s side; the two staying awake in a lazy throw of limbs on their sweat laden bed, smiling goofily at each other as they played with their fingers. They talked for hours, until their voices went hoarse from overuse, until their eyes were so heavy they could no longer keep them open… and when they awoke, their fingers were still entwined.

They wined and dined and took so many pictures of the majestic hidden scenery of Jihyun’s latest discovery. He had said he found a new landscape he really wanted to take photographs of and had hoped that she wouldn’t mind hiking with him during their final day together, he wanted to see the sunset there with her before he had to drive her back to the airport and say goodbye for another month. Of course she agreed, it seemed a lovely thought. It did.

She was wrong.

She didn’t take into account how unfit she had become. After twenty minutes into their hike she had wanted to cry… Why were hikes always uphill? Why didn’t anyone ever go, ‘hey why don’t we take a hike downhill and catch a cab back?’… MC wiped her brow and sighed, clutching onto her water bottle as her arms swung from side to side in hopes that they would evolve into wings so she could just fly up the mount. Jihyun had stopped more times than he wanted, citing that he needed to sketch a particular rock formation, or take photos of a line of boring trees- but she knew that he was just finding any excuse for her to catch her breath. He was a sweet man, this man she married.

Finally, after hours of walking, they had made it to the summit and even though it hurt to breathe and she was sweating like a pig and probably smelt worse than one, she couldn’t help but be in awe of the vision in front of her. The skyline was clear and it felt like the forest went on forever, such lush greenery juxtaposed with the harsh edges of rock around them… it truly was beautiful. She understood perfectly why Jihyun had wanted to come here to show her. “Once we’re done here, there’s a picnic area just ten minutes away- we can have the packed lunch there,” he chirped, his bright smile almost as brilliant as the sun in the sky. “I just have to capture these scenes so I can paint them properly back at home… How do you think this one will go on the far wall of the spare room?” he asked posturing his fingers in opposing angles like a camera shot in front of her face. She glanced at her husband before angling herself to look through his fingers, a soft smile on her face as she took in the lush setting in front of her. Beautiful.

“I think it will go marvellously… but for what? You just made up the other room as your studio and that’s just a junk room right now… guest room maybe?” she started talking to herself, listing off the possible ways they would utilise the unused space in their home. Jihyun’s grin widened as he dropped his fingers and stared bemusedly at his wife, eyes twinkling with an unnamed mischief she couldn’t quite place. “I was thinking more on the lines of… a nursery?”

“N-Nursery?” she spluttered, dropping her water to ground in shock. Jihyun laughed as he bent to pick up the bottle and returned it into her weak grasp, his long digits taking the time to caress over the smooth skin of the back of her hand affectionately. His eyes softened as they swept over the smooth expanse of her stomach and up to her face, MC feeling her cheeks flush at the tenderness he held in his gaze. “Yes. I think it’s time we start thinking about children,” he confirmed, holding her hand steadfastly in his, playing with the tips of her fingers with his own, lips twitching into a grin from the tingles it shot up his arm. “We’re a good age, we’ve been married for a few years now and with steady jobs-” “You’re a trust fund kid-” “-and I think I would like to hear how half of you and half of me sounds like running down the halls.” “That sounds a little creepy.” “… In retrospect, perhaps not the best choice of words but you know what I meant,” he laughed as he squeezed their interlaced fingers before bringing up it up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, “I think we’re ready to start at least… trying,” he said before leaning in to place a chaste peck on her cheek. MC chuckled as she shook her head disbelievingly, this man was so extra he wanted her to come to a foreign country just so she could approve the picture he wanted to paint in their future babies’ room? A picture couldn’t suffice?

No, it really wouldn’t.

MC found herself nodding, he made good points and she could barely contain her glee whenever a mother and child would pass her nowadays, it was probably best that they do start to try for their own little Kim clan. She would have to see, well no, they would both have to see a doctor when he got back. There would be prenatal vitamins she would have to take, do her research on what they should be eating and start looking for prospective OB-GYN’s… getting a little ahead of yourself MC… got to get pregnant first.

“Well then you better take those pictures you need quickly so we can start trying tonight.”

Shrugging off his backpack, Jihyun carefully pulled out his prized camera and meticulously chose the correct lenses he would need for the shots he wanted. MC stood behind him and looked upon him doing something he loved and felt her heart fill, he was such a kind, talented man and here he was… planning for their future together. She loved him with everything she had and she hoped that he knew that. Flying over on a whim because you both missed each other? Don’t be stupid- of course he knew how much you loved him… just look at him, so completely lost in his vision.

MC took a step back and wandered close by, looking over the great natural beauty of the land, the gentle breeze stroking at her skin like her lover’s breath, licking at the sweat on her skin to cool her off as she marvelled at the sight. What was this place called again? Maybe they could incorporate it somehow into their baby’s name? Their son could have something about being a strong mountain and their daughter the majestic but calm winds? She was clearly exhausted if she was already waxing poetic about children’s names.

MC turned her head to call over her shoulder to her husband about naming their son after a nearby rock when she saw him teetering too close to the edge, too focused on the view ahead to pay attention to what was truly in front of him. If she screamed out, he would panic and could lose his footing, if she walked over to him it would be too late… her feet were moving before she even gave herself a chance to think of another option. Three steps, four… seven steps away and her hands clapped onto his wrists, turning him around and pulling him back as she slid forward, her hip grazing along the dirt as she dug her nails into the ground to stop her descent over the edge. But the force was too great, she could feel her legs begin to slope downwards into the crevasse below, her fingers unable to find purchase in the loose soil and her thoughts a panicked mess. I’m going to die. This is how I go. Holy Shit. God. Please. Please. No.

A sharp pain around her wrists as she was almost completely gone.  

Tilting her head back she looked up to her saviour; a stricken look on his once relaxed face, eyes wide and pupils almost invisible in his irises, almost as white as the rest of his eye with fear. “I got you, I got you,” he said as he tried to pull her up, his hands slowly but firmly gripping up her arm. “Can… can your feet reach… the edge? Can you walk up as I pull up?” MC made the mistake of looking straight down and screamed, her body unconsciously jerking in his hold, dragging him further along with her, his chest becoming visible over the edge. “I got you. Don’t be scared.”

MC nodded as she slowly opened her eyes, rocks and dirt filling her vision. She tried her best to stretch out and touch them with her toes but to no avail- even if she swung back and forth there was no way she’d reach it… and even if she could… there was no discernible way to hold onto by foot or hand… she was stuck.

She was saved only to die.

How cruel.

She looked back up to her husband, the strain on his face evident even as the sun shone behind him making her eyes water and lose focus. Or perhaps she was just crying.

“Help! HELP! Someone please! Help us! Help us please!” he yelled, his voice echoing around the range, taunting them. “My wife- please someone save my wife!”

That damn sun.

“I got you MC!”

Let me see his face properly.

“You’ll be okay.”

Stop being so bright.

“Oh god, hold on!”

It’s so hard to see.

“M-MC… climb! Pull yourself up! Use my arms like a rope and climb up!” he screamed, his voice cracking as beads of sweat started to pour down his face, his cheeks tinged with red, veins in his arms bulging from the on-going tension. The wall, he was going to paint the wall. Try. At least try.His arms were too slippery to grip properly, his skin slick with sweat from the both of them, her hands drenched with blood from her ripped up fingernails and palms- each time she would get even one hand length higher… she would slip down further along his arm. Until they were palm to palm.

In holy palmer’s kiss.

“Okay, hold still MC… don’t make any sudden movements,” he instructed as his mind raced to figure out what he could do, was there anything he could do?He tried to scream out once again, praying that someone was around to hear him, just seconds away from rescuing them both. Because he wasn’t going to let go. And he was slipping. She was slipping. If she went, he was sure to follow.

Gravity would be his happy dagger.

MC felt the very real dip, could hear the ground moving underneath him. He wasn’t going to let go. He was slipping. She was slipping. He had meant to follow.

It was all so simple. She always knew the answer. She knew what she had to do. Jihyun was not a man who knew what his limitations were, he was not one to know when one could not be saved- either for those he loved or for himself. It was always up to her to help him save himself.

I did not save you, only for you to die. I am not that cruel.

“MC.”

I need you.

“What are you-” To live.

“Stop!”

To smile.

“STOP!”

To forgive me.

“PLEASE DON’T!”

You always shined brighter than any sun, Jihyun.

“MC-”

I got you.

“I CAN’T HOLD ON IF YOU DON’T-” I’ll save you.

“DON’T LET GO!”

I love you.

“N-NO! MC!”

Stop crying. I hate seeing your eyes filled with tears. “I CAN’T!”

Our kids. They would have had your eyes.

“MC- P-please… don’t-” “I’m so sorry.”

I am.

He would forget how the birds chirped as he watched his wife fall. He would never hear the calls of the people from the nearby camp answering his pleas moments too late. He would never know the sound of his voice as he was pulled away from the edge, the strangers stopping him dropping down to meet her. He would only ever hear how his wife, his MC, had screamed out his name as she fell.

He would never forget the moment the sound of his name, killed him.

He could still feel her hands in his.

He ran through the corridors, a blurred maze that whirled past in his dazed determination. Truth be told he didn’t know where he was going, merely listening to someone telling him to turn left or right and get on the elevator… did that person even work for him? He didn’t know, simply took their word as gospel and followed numbly. All he knew was that he had to get there, he needed to be there.

Jumin unbuttoned his blazer as he stepped off the elevator, suddenly finding it harder to breathe the closer he got to his intended destination, it was the first time he was actually nervous about anything. Anxious maybe? Scared, definitely. He had been here before, done this before but this was different. This felt more real, more finite and just… more than what he had inside of him to able to help. The first time around, Jihyun had lost his fiance. This time, he lost his wife. Truly lost his wife. Right from his fingertips he was told. He could feel his throat close up as heat began to gather behind his eyes and he let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes tightly. He couldn’t break, wouldn’tbreak- not now, not when his best friend needed him. He could be strong, just a little bit longer.

He pushed past Jihyun’s sister and father, both pale and lost in their own world, trying to paint concern over their features to look socially acceptable when all they wanted was to make sure no scandal could be brought upon their family by their not being ‘supportive’ by not being there. Bullshit. For the first time in his life, he ignored what custom and etiquette dictated and ignored them. Jihyun needed him, they didn’t need his pleasantries.

“Hello, my name is Jumin Han, I’m his best friend; how is he Doctor?” he asked not even sparing a sideward glance to the Kim’s, doing their best to not look affronted by such an obvious snub. The doctor treating Jihyun swallowed thickly as he looked at him- not well then… what else could be expected?- before closing his file and taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Mr Han, your friend is in a state of hysteria. He’s been here for the past four hours and hasn’t stopped pacing or moving, he keeps trying to escape, trying to tell us that he can go there and save her.” 

“And what have you said in response… I mean to say, was there any chance of her surviving that fall at all-”

“Her body arrived two hours ago-”

“Did… did she suffer?” he asked, his eyes closing against his will. He needed to know. He needed to be able to tell Jihyun the truth one day if he ever asked him. The doctor shook his head solemnly and looked directly into his eyes. “She died instantly.”

Jumin could feel the bile in his stomach churn as he imagined the state of his friend lying in the morgue- and then the state of his friend still waiting for him on the other side of the door. He thought he was going to be sick. Just a little longer, stay strong that little bit longer man. He half listened to the doctor and the other waiting staff about what to do going forward but kept his eye on the clock on the wall in front of him, the second hand seeming to move faster with each tick that passed; telling him that he was wasting each second he was not at his best friend’s side.

“I’m sorry… but I need to go. Excuse me,” he said simply as he bowed slightly to the doctor and continued to ignore the Kim’s outraged cries and they had hoped that they would be the first to see Jihyun, to no doubt insure he wouldn’t drag their good name through the mud with another issue with a woman. That woman- was Jihyun’s wife and his own close friend, that woman who lay lifeless on a cold, metal slab, that woman who had brought his friend back from one foot in the grave- the same who threatened to bury him completely with her absence.

Not again. He had done this before, he knew better now.

Running a hand through his unruly mess of ebony hair and twisting the cufflinks in his shirt, Jumin took an unsteady breath and tried his best to centre himself. He didn’t know exactly what to expect, but it was Jihyun, he knew him better than he knew himself. It didn’t matter what state he was in, it was Jihyun. Knocking curtly with the backs of his knuckles, he cleared his throat and opened the door. The room was clean and sterile, his friend’s shock of blue hair the only real colour amongst all the white surrounding him. He turned to face Jumin as soon as he heard the distinct click of the handle and rushed towards him, his hands shaking as they clamped down hard on his shoulders, fingers curled in the expensive fabric of his suit as he stared into his eyes. Blood shot cerulean, rimmed with red and lashes draped with tears, stricken and filled with pain. Jumin had to blink, to look away, only for a second.

“J-Jumin! Thank god! They won’t listen to me- they won’t! We need to go now, she’s still there. I know it. She’s down there waiting for me and she’s hurt… we need to go-” “Jihyun-” He flinched at the sound of his own name.

“I know it. She… she… she’s calling for me. It sounds crazy, I know it does- but I can hear it-”

“Please, Jihyun-” “No! Don’t use that tone with me!” he snapped, pushing him away roughly as he spun around, his long fingers reaching into the sides of his head as he pulled at the long strands as if he were holding onto the last remnant of his sanity. Perhaps he was. “Don’t! Just… don’t,” he whispered as he released a ragged breath, one Jumin knew meant he was close to another fit of tears. He had heard it when they were 9 and his Nanny had yelled at him for sneaking another sweet when the dentist had told him that he needed to cut back due to his propensity for cavaties. He had heard it when their house had burnt down… and only once when Rika had ‘died’… and again in that room, his friend was about to cry. He was about to cry with him.

“Everyone is talking to me like I’m insane. That I’m crazy. That they have to talk softly in case I break- I’m not going to break god damn it- I just need to help my wife!” he cried as he slumped down on the nearby sofa, his head in his hands as he broke down, his legs shaking with each cry.

This must have been his first time to sit since he came here… he hasn’t stopped. Hasn’t stopped begging for someone to hear him, to help him. I am so sorry Jihyun. I should have been here sooner.

“Jihyun-” “Stop calling me that!” he barked before calming down and returning to his desolate state, shocking Jumin for a second. What else would he call him? He had asked to be called Jihyun again after years of being called V and now Jihyun was off the table again? What was he to call him then? “Just… not Jihyun. Please.”

“I… okay.” “So, can we do this… can we go and look for MC now?” he asked, his face splotchy and ruddy, muddied with the dirt from whatever mountain he was on and his tears. Jumin’s strength was almost at its end, there was only so much he could take. “Yes. Of course. Of course, we can. Let me talk to everyone out there and we can go,” he said quietly, his heart tearing at the sight of his best friend’s smile. Of relief, of joy, of delirium. Of hope.

Oh God.

“Thank you Jumin.”

Shit.

His sister wouldn’t stop saying it. Kept saying it over and over that he had to cover his ears to try to stop the noise but he could still read her lips.

She’s dead! Stop acting crazy and get a hold of yourself man! Tell us the truth whilst it’s still just us… did you try to kill her? Did she kill herself? Don’t give me that look- it’s weird okay?  Come on your fiancé fakes her own death to get away from you and now your wife throws herself off a cliff? That’s right- she’s dead. No, stop acting like you don’t understand- you don’t fall that high without dying- No, father he needs to hear this. He needs to get a grip and quick before the tabloids get to him. He can be mad with grief but he can’t just be mad. Think of what they’ll say…

She’s dead. She’s dead. We were going to look for-

But she’s dead. You knew that. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. She’s dead.

You knew.

They knew. He knew.

You knew.

She’s dead.

She’s dead.

Oh… please… no.

She’s-

A cold wave crashed over him as he tried to repeat the word in his head… but he couldn’t. He could barely move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Was he dying?

If he was… then…

Good.

“Wake up Jihyun!” she called out, her soft voice rousing him from the final vestiges of sleep he grasped onto. “Come on now- your breakfast is going to get cold!”

He groaned as he opened one of his eyes, blinking slowly to get rid of the blur in his vision. Like a fog clearing, MC appeared and held a tray of what smelt like his favourite pancakes, the batch she made for his birthday every year. Wait… was it his birthday? “Come on sleepy head! I didn’t slave away for nothing now did I?” she pouted, her lower lip jutting out adorably, just the way she knew made his heart melt, he couldn’t deny her anything when she made that face. “Mmmfhhkaayinakond,” he replied as he rubbed his face against the mattress, forcing himself to wake up. “What was that?” she laughed, the china clinking happily against the tray as she laughed at him. Turning over to push himself up in a sitting position is one clean movement, Jihyun sat against the bedhead and yawned into his palm. “I said… excuse me… Mhmm okay in a second,” he repeated as he accepted the tray from his wife and placed it above his lap. The aroma of the buttermilk pancakes hit him full force as well as the clean smell of the freshly squeezed orange juice. He was a lucky man. “Is it my birthday?” he asked as he tried to reach for his phone to check the date, the days had blurred so much as of late with everything that had been going on- he could have missed it quite easily. MC threw her head back and laughed as she sat beside him, patting his leg up and down absentmindedly as he began to tuck into his meal. It felt like forever since he had her cooking, felt like forever since he had been home.

“No… what, I can’t spoil you just because you’re home and you’re mine?”

He could feel his cheeks heat up, feeling ridiculous as they were puffed up from taking their fill of pancakes and fruit. He shrugged and offered her a sheepish grin before swallowing his bite and reaching over to squeeze her hand to show his appreciation. “Of course you can, thank you. I am a lucky man.” “And don’t you forget it!”

“The funeral was… lovely Jihyun. You would have… shewould have…”

Jumin looked down at his friend, he had tried talking to him, shaking him, screaming at him, begging and crying… nothing could get through to him. He would stare to the side and sometimes blink. He wouldn’t move, or respond to anything anyone said or did. Nothing. It was like he was in some sort of limbo, stuck in a loop. He had never wanted to punch someone more than he did Jihyun’s sister when he found out it was her relentless tirade that amplified his friend’s shock, forcing him to retreat within himself to protect himself. A type of PTSD he was told, a catatonic state to find respite in… whether it was temporary or permanent, no one knew.

In the end Jumin couldn’t blame him. Jihyun had faced so many traumatic things by himself- it made sense that he believed that only he could fix himself. It just, hurt him that’s all… that he was never in time to help his friend.

Well, even if he thought was alone, he wasn’t. Jumin wasn’t going anywhere.

“Ahh! Jihyun! No! Stop!” she laughed as she tried to cover herself with her arms, trying but failing to block his barrage of splashes as she sat on the edge of their private pool. He didn’t, in fact he doubled his efforts in his attacks and effectively drenched his new wife. Wife, he really liked the sound of that. After all they had been through together, calling MC his wife was truly the best thing that could have ever happened to him. Did he deserve it? Probably not, but he wasn’t going to question it. Not when she was smiling at him like that.

“Ah don’t be such a spoil sport Mrs. Kim! Fight back! Show me that strong woman who stole my heart!” he jeered merrily as he sent over a particularly large backhand of water towards her, hitting her straight in her open mouth. Oops. She spluttered and coughed as he raced over to check on her, only to have her launch herself on him, dunking his head under the water playfully. They screamed and squealed as loudly as their heart was content, Jumin offering his private island for their honeymoon as part of his lavish wedding present. They had spent the last two weeks frolicking about the island like teenagers in love; kissing and playing unabashedly, touching and being affectionate however they pleased, being intimate whenever and wherever took their fancy. He didn’t think he could have a life with joy in it after Rika, only to find more joy than he could ever know.

“Ha! You doubted my strength and now you must pay the price! How do you plead?” she asked as she held his swimming trunks in her hand, held high above her head like some hunting trophy.

“How else can I but guilty?” “Ah is that all?”

“Guilty but happy.” “Good.”

She smiled, that smile that made his heart ache, like she would only smile at him like that for the rest of her life. Like that smile was made just for his heart to skip a beat for.

And then she threw his trunks over the pool edge as she wrapped her legs around him to draw him closer, placing a sweet peck on the tip of his nose. “Good.”

Three months. No progress… but no further setbacks… he was just frozen in time. He didn’t say anything when they moved him from his room in the hospital, to his room in Jumin’s penthouse. Didn’t say anything when it was his nurse or his best friend who bathed him. Didn’t move whether it was the radio in the background or the sweet timbre of Jumin’s voice reading his latest book to him. Nothing. That hope of seeing Jihyun ever smile again ever wavering, of ever releasing himself from his self-imposed hell dwindling with every passing day. Still, he stayed. He wasn’t alone.

“Can I move yet darling?” he half asked- half laughed, only to be silenced by a sharp ‘shh!’ and a pointed finger to stop him from moving around. He chuckled as he resumed his original position on the couch, his elbows bent and perched above his knees as he leant forward with a broad grin on his face. Jihyun didn’t have the faintest clue why MC decided that was the perfect position she wanted to draw him in but he didn’t question it. He had tried for the better part of two years to get her interested in drawing however to no avail, if she suddenly caught the inspiration to do so, he would encourage it as best as he could. Even if his back was stiff was sitting in the same position for over an hour and his cheeks felt like they were about to fall off from smiling too much. “There! I’m done!” she exclaimed as she dropped her charcoal down with a dramatic flourish, a large smiled plastered to her face, a smudge of faded black across her cheekbone and chin. He couldn’t be prouder of her even if he tried. He carefully stretched out his sore limbs, wincing as he felt something in his back crack- when had he gotten so old?- before standing up to walk towards his wife to examine her work. As he drew closer she scuttled away, quickly snapping the sketchbook shut and hugging it against her chest protectively. She looked like a child refusing to share her favourite toy, which of course, made him want it even more. “Why won’t you let me see?” he asked as he started to dart around the room to chase after her, his flighty wife nimbler than he gave her credit for. Ducking and weaving around the man she laughed as she easily danced about the room, Jihyun trying his best to mimic her steps to keep up. “Please? I really want to see it!” he pleaded as he finally stood in the middle of their living room, trying his best to hide how winded he was from their little escapade.

MC paused, her cheeks flushed as her shoulders rose up and down with laboured breath, that blessed smile on her face- just for him- before acquiescing and handing him the book. He quietly thanked her as his fingers skipped through the thick pages until he found the latest picture; technically it wasn’t the most beautiful picture, her proportions were off and some of the lighting she incorporated didn’t make sense… but the way she saw him… he could tell she spent all of her time on his face. The way his hair flicked out at the tips, the curve of his smile, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes- though imperfect- was perfect. The way she saw him was… beautiful.

“I love it,” he whispered as his fingers ghosted over the lines she created on the page almost reverently. She scoffed disbelievingly as she sat down on the couch, impatiently rubbing at the charcoal left of her fingers. “No really MC, I love it.” “You’re just saying that because you’re my husband and you’re being biased,” she mumbled her chin to her chest. Jihyun bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the pouting woman in front of him, too adorable for words, embarrassed by her husband’s accolades.

“I am saying that as your biased husband who is impressed by his wife’s work, yes,” he agreed as he shut the book and sat beside her, rubbing the stains at her fingertips. He could see the tips of her ears start to colour-

“You’re the worst, you know that?” she jested as she playfully nudged at him with her shoulder, MC code for ‘open up and hug me’. “I do actually.” “… But thanks.”

Kissing MC on the edge of her brow, Jihyun nuzzled into her hair and breathed deeply, his lips sliding into an easy, contented smile. He had a nice bare space on his studio wall that drawing could hang upon. It’d be perfect.

Saeyoung: How is he? Jaehee: You haven’t said a word about him in weeks Mr. Han. Yoosung: … is he okay? Zen: If you need a break maybe I can take over and look after him Zen: … so long as you take that furball out with you. Jumin: Your concern is very touching and I will be sure to relay everything to him once I get back home. Zen your offer is kind but unnecessary, I am fine. Jihyun is about to start a new course of medication and treatment… I don’t know if it will make a difference but I have to try.  Jaehee: Mr Han- Jaehee: Maybe you could let us help  Yoosung: Yeah, we’re his friends too. We want to.  Saeyoung: It’s been ages since we’ve seen him- maybe it’ll make him happy? There are some studies that show- Jumin: I’ve read all of them, and yes, perhaps you’re right. Maybe he’s sick of only hearing and seeing me. Jumin: … if he hears or sees me at all.  Jaehee: Oh Mr. Han, of course he does! Zen: Yeah Jumin, there’s no way that your annoying voice and face and be ignored.  Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

Zen: I was trying to cheer him up. I swear. Yoosung: Jumin doesn’t smile much these days.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as his hand slammed down on the table, rattling the fine silver, sloshing the wine that was still poured high in their crystal glasses. Jumin hadn’t laughed like that in months, it had been far too long between their last gathering. The rest of the RFA had made their way home hours before and left the three of them sitting around the table with dirtied plates and half-drunk cups of tea and coffee, cake crumbs littered everywhere. It had been a great night.

Jihyun wrapped his arms around his giggling wife as she listened to Jumin regale them with another story of his recent business acquisition and the antics he had gotten up to that he would never tell the other members of the RFA. Or he would show all the blurry photos of himself and Elizabeth the Third that he kept on his phone that he kept for his own amusement. Or as they always did when it was the early hours of the morning, they spoke of their past and their fondest memories, reliving each instant as if it were just yesterday. The both of them painting such vivid pictures for MC to rejoice in with them. It was these moments that Jihyun treasured most, the two most important people in his life just being with him and enjoying life over good food and wine and laughter.

He squeezed his arm around MC and pressed her even closer to his side as they both continued to listen to a very animated Jumin recount how Jihyun had gotten so hungry once during choir practice that he ate all the communion bread and tried to wash it down with the ceremonial wine but got caught by one of the Nuns- but he was just so cute that the Nun just ruffled his hair and ended up giving them both cookies instead of reprimanding them. MC draped her arms around his middle and lay her head against his chest, happily humming along with Jumin’s stories as her fingers drew random patterns in his side. “It’s late, I should let you two turn in,” Jumin said as he moved to stand up. MC shook her head and motioned for him to sit back down, not moving from her spot in Jihyun’s arms. “No please, stay. I like hearing about your and Jihyun’s past. I like hearing you laugh. I like hearing him laugh. Please stay.”  

“Did I ever tell you the time that Jihyun wore the girl’s uniform to school once?” “Jumin, no-” “Jumin, yes! Go on!”

“I thought you two were supposed to love me.” “We do. Now hush, I need to set the scene. It was in our senior year.”

“Jihyun… are you still in there? Anything? Give me anything. A sign to tell me that you’re still there and I’ll be okay. Please. It’s been… too long. I miss you. This is the longest we’ve been together since we were children and I miss you more than ever. I see you every day but you never see me. I talk to you every day and you never say a word back. Please. Just- I need… something,” he begged at the foot of the bed, his hands wrapped around the frame until his knuckles turned white.

It was useless.

“Hey Jihyun… you remember that time… when… when we-”

He hoped that Jihyun couldn’t see him or hear him. He didn’t want him to despair over his tears.

“How about this one Jihyun?” she asked as she picked up the small white shirt, tilting it side to side like some banner. “It’s nice,” he replied dispassionately, not hating or loving it either way. It was a shirt, it didn’t really matter did it? He watched as the smile on his wife’s face slowly melted away into a small frown as she put the piece of clothing back on the rack and continued browsing. “Is there anything in here you like? It’s like you don’t even want to be in here,” she murmured as she perused the aisles with him following behind her, mindlessly touching the items on the shelves. “Don’t be silly MC, of course I want to be here. I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked with a fine arch in his brow. MC stared at him for a moment as if she were assessing if he was telling the truth or not then nodded and continued on with her shopping.

“How about this one?”

It was small. Fluffy. And pink. So horrendously pink.

“Yes. That one. That one is perfect.”

She beamed at him as she hung the tiny onesie over her forearm. “Our daughter will look beautiful in this when we take her home Jihyun.”

Would she? Did they… have a daughter? Was this… What was this?

“Jihyun?” she turned to him, concern etched over her beautiful features as he stood still in the store, a deep sense of dread filling him as he looked around at all the baby clothes and accessories. MC dropped everything in her arms and ran over to him, her hands cradling his face as she titled it down to look him in the eyes. “Baby? Are you okay? Jihyun?”

Was he? Was he okay?

He didn’t know.

He could feel tears start to flood his eyes as he looked down at her, his own hands covering hers as he placed a kiss inside of each of her palms. Her brows creased deeply as she grew more and more worried at her husband’s sudden change in demeanour.

“Jihyun?” “You said it differently.” “What? What did I say differently?” “My name.” “I’m sorry?”

Oh God.

“That too. You said that differently too.”

“I’m scared Jihyun, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I’m scared too.” “… J-Jihyun.” “If this was real. Yes. Our daughter would have... I wish this was real. Why couldn’t this be real.” “Jihyun.”

This needed to stop now. This was enough, now.

He knew it was a bad idea. The nurse looked too much like her. Same colour hair, same height and weight, same skin tone- enough to make any of their friends do a double take… especially when she was so close to Jihyun. Still who was he to question the temporary nurse they sent over to replace his regular caregiver? So long as she did a good job, there was nothing wrong with it. That was until he heard her scream. Jumin rushed into the room that long held his best friend, the man’s hands tightly wrapped around the nurse’s wrists as he repeated her name over and over like some chant. His voice was raspy and weak from disuse but the anguish in it was palpable, the distress more than evident in the tears in his eyes and the desperation in his grasp. He could see. He could hear. He was…

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried to hold on. I’m so sorry. MC. MC. M... I’m so sorry.”

“Jihyun, that’s not MC. Let her go, you’re hurting her, Jihyun!” “MC. Please. Don’t. I’m sorry.” “It’s probably best that you leave Miss.” “NO! Don’t! MC!” “Jihyun-” “MC… J-Jumin… MC is…” “That’s not MC.” “MC… she’s-” He breathed in and swallowed the lump he had held in his throat since the day his best friend’s wife had died. “Yes. She is.”

Jumin watched as his friend’s body started to grow rigid and curl upon himself, a familiar fear creeping over him as he waited for him to return to his frozen state. A cruel break in his spell just to taunt him. Until Jihyun opened his mouth and let out the most pained cry that he had ever heard, deep harrowing sobs that racked at his form so violently Jumin feared it was a type of seizure. His fingers clung to his sleeves, he called out his name as if he were begging for him to make it all better and the clarity his eyes held even through the despair told Jumin that finally, Jihyun realised that whilst he no longer had MC, he was no longer alone.

Yes, just a little bit longer, I can be strong for you.

“Your wife loved you Jihyun.” “I know that Doctor.” “Then why does it sound like you curse that love instead of embrace it?” “It was because of that love that she died.” “It was because of that love that you live.” “They are both tragedies in my eyes.”

He had asked Driver Kim to let him borrow the car, being Mr Han’s best friend had some perks as the older man didn’t even blink as he handed him the keys. He drove, for God knows how long but he didn’t stop, didn’t think, didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t understand how he was there at first. Looking over the beautiful city, the night turning the skyline into a beautiful array of lights from the buildings below.

He sat there, one hour, three. It grew darker and darker. Matching his thoughts. It would be so easy. Just turn the key. Drive off. There would be some pain- he deserved it- but it would be quick. Quicker than just waiting for death to claim him, waiting for the day he could meet MC again and apologise for not being strong enough, not being fast enough, not being good enough for her.

Just a twist of his wrist and a press of his foot and it would be done. Would he scream? Would he call out her name? Would he too, say he was sorry? Why wasn’t he ever strong enough to save the women he loved in his life? Was his sister right? Was it something about him… that…

It would be so easy. Just turn the key, one twist of the wrist. One blink of an eye. One more breath. It would be so, so easy. He deserved something easy, just once… didn’t he?

So just do it Jihyun.

Do it.

Do it.

He pulled out the key. He stepped out of the car. He screamed. Again and again. He didn’t care who heard him, if anyone could. He screamed until his voice cracked and his throat hurt.

Jihyun pulled out his phone and dialled the first number on his list. “Hello?” “Jumin?” “Jihyun- what… are you okay?” “No.” “Where are you?” “Standing on a cliff.” “Are… what… Jihyun-” “Please come and get me. I… I need help.”

“Okay stay right there. I’m on way. Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there.” I need help. MC. I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough. But I will be. I’ll try to be.

Months of therapy, both physical and psychological. Months of slowly integrating himself back into the waking world. Trying to decipher how he could live life without his wife beside him, how different it was to navigate the world now his centre no longer existed. But still, he would do it. For Jumin who loved him and gave up so much to take care of him. For the RFA who continued to do good in the name of his late wife. For himself… For MC.

It still hurt, every moment without her, but for every second he was alive- he was going to live for her.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jumin asked as he looked at him from the corner of his eyes, arms folded as he stood steadfast beside his best friend. At first he didn’t know why he asked him to come to the hardware store, but when they stood in front of the paints as Jihyun held a battered camera it all made sense. He knew where that camera came from. He knew the pictures that were on that roll of film. He knew the picture that Jihyun had wanted to paint.

“Yes.”

He stood in his dark room with dozens of pictures developing around him, the scenery as beautiful and… haunting… as he imagined. What he hadn’t envisioned were of how many pictures he had taken of MC. Of her looking back at him as they hiked, of her standing on the peak of the mountain looking tired but proud, of her just moments after he had told her he wanted to start a family with her.

Though none took his breath away like the very last photo he developed- the very first he took of her of that weekend. Standing at the airport gate, with her bag beside her, her arms wide open and that smile. That smile. The one she did just for him. He had almost ripped the paper when her image started to come through. It hurt. Too much. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. That was one of the last smiles she ever game him, he never wanted to forget it; so he painted. He painted for days on end, not stopping on that one wall he had planned, but on every free space he could. The trees, the mountain, the sun and sky- her. He painted her. Her open arms. The way she looked back at him. The way she looked up at him. Her smile. The gentle curve of her lips, the way her hair had danced in the wind, the way her eyes closed when she laughed. He painted her the way he had always seen her and she was… beautiful.

It wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that. He still woke up in a cold sweat, he still flinched at the sound of his name if someone said it a little too loudly, he could still feel her fingers slip through his. But then he’d look at her picture and he would know, even without her beside him, he was never truly without her. He wasn’t alone.

[valeriemperez]

sounds like they're going ahead with the Joe/Cecile baby. what do you think of this? I just don't want it to have an effect on the arrival of the WA twins. I also want Barry/Iris to get to have all the big pregnancy story beats, but will the show want to go through that if they've just done it with Cecile? i guess not if most or all of Cecile's pregnancy takes place offscreen, including the birth. if they do any of that onscreen, WA baby stuff will seem redundant, won't it?

I think most of Cecile’s pregnancy will happen offscreen, so that WA’s won’t be redundant. But yeah, we can gauge what WA’s will look like based on what they do with Cecile and Joe. I mean, at this point we don’t even know if Iris will get pregnant during the show’s run or if her progeny will just arrive from the future.

LOL! My queen won’t let Barry live. He gets jealous easily.

Haha, I really think that she does it on purpose now to get a rise out of him. In retrospect she understood that he was jealous when she brought it up in 1.08, so now she uses it all the time. I love.

what’s going on in the comics rn? i was gonna read when i heard Barry has kids or something with jessica n also barry is with meena? i’m confused.

Barry dated Meena for 2 issues and then she “died.” Then Barry and Iris started dating, but broke up in #25 because she found out he was Flash and she killed Eobard. Barry has been crying about it ever since, but they had a moment (that’s actually a peek into the future) during #33 where he forgives her for Eobard. So they’ll probably get back together soon.

She looks old cuz of something-something Metal crossover evil Batman, don’t worry about it. As for Jessica, some kids from an AU came and said Barry and Jess were their parents, but that’s over and done with now.

During the time I spent watching Arrow (barf!), I can’t remember if Oliver and Al Gul’s daughter ever legally divorced. Do we know if he can even legally marry Felicity? Btw, if anybody needs couple’s therapy, it’s them!

They did not legally divorce that I know of, but she is presumed dead at the moment so…

Will you be going to the Fan Expo Vancouver next week? If so is it possible to ask Grant when and if he will return to Twitter?

I will be going! And I will ask him that in his line if I get that chance.

Do you think that’s Iris dressed up for Halloween or Candice? I’m confused since she’s in her trailer and they already did the Christmas episode which means they skipped Halloween and thanksgiving. Lol I think I just answered my own question

I think the bunny ears and bow are Candice messing around, but the black outfit with the respectable cleavage is Iris.

I heard Barry won’t be in the Flash suit at all for 4.05. I know the girls are supposed to save the day, but still…That could have been a way for Wally to also shine by having him on duty that night. Dang!

Another reason you know that “it’s too expensive to have two speedsters” is a BS response lol.

@minute42 said:

i’m really not even mad about ralph cause he’s actually IN the comics, it’s the wonder twins (C+C) and Wells that’s irritating. Wally should be getting way more screentime than them, they’re not that bloody important OR interesting. the show needs science, i agree, but all three can stand to take a backseat more while still sciencing at Barry. All I want for Caitlin is for her SL to make sense, i’m starting not to care about cisco outside cindy honestly, and TC makes a little Wells go a long way

At the risk of being blasphemous, Cisco is the second most interesting character to me after Iris. So I would not like to lose or lessen him under any circumstance. But I agree that if the show were actually a one-to-one adaptation of the comics, then Wally would have a much larger role. They have not done right by Keiy at all, which is partially because they have chosen to focus on STAR Labs and partially because he wasn’t there in S1 so he obviously feels easier for them to remove.

The writers clearly have a different set of priorities than the various audience pockets, but I hope that when Wally returns they have a well thought out story for him.

[hellothisisourhouse]

Birth Story #2

Pic: my last week of being pregnant, Oscar at 1 day old, Oscar last week.

Getting ready to birth baby #2 should have been a piece of cake, but instead it came with a whole new set of worries and things to think about.  Being pregnant was much harder at the end - maybe being a couple years older, or maybe taking care of a toddler at the same time - the last few months dragged on like crazy.  I’ll especially never forget the bus rides when I was taking Lois to/from the nanny share before/after work - the looks I would get at 8 months pregnant lugging an almost 2 year old (and enough baggage for her day at nanny share and my day at work) around on the 7 line (a very busy bus).  At least I always got a seat, even if like 10 people had to move out of the way for me to get there!

Same warning as last time - this is a birth story, so if those things gross you out, don’t read this.  I haven’t written the rest yet, but I’m guessing there will be some yucky stuff and not just a little bit of drama.  If you love it, read on.  If not, look away!  There’s lots of other fun reads out on the internet :)

I try not to compare everything about this birth to the first one, but inevitably that’s what happens.  At the time when I was anticipating it, it was my only point of reference!  In any case, I would say my biggest question (like a dying-of-curiosity question) was - how will I know I am going into labor?  The first time my water broke to begin labor, but statistically that’s not the most common way to start.  Normally it’s with contractions and since my first birth was (weirdly) almost contraction-free at the beginning - I wasn’t sure I would understand the feeling of laboring at home, or know when exactly to go into the hospital.  Also, I had been totally mentally convinced that Lois would arrive late - and then she came 10 days early, which is also statistically not normal for first borns.  So when would this new baby decide to party?  To say I was on the lookout for signs is an understatement - I was pretty obsessed.

This time around I had had some braxton hicks contractions (I had none the first time), which felt like mild back cramps in the weeks preceding the big day.  They were infrequent and I really wasn’t sure that’s even what it was - it’s hard to separate all the different aches and pains.  At one antenatal appointment (I got a ton of extra appointments, since I was SUPER OLD aka 35 yrs old), we were talking to a nurse about when I should schedule an induction, should we go way over our due date, and she said “I don’t think you’ll make it to your due date” with a little knowing smile.  I have no idea how she knew, but when your full time job is monitoring super pregnant moms and relaying their monitoring results back to them, you probably get good at predicting these things.  She was right.

So my mom made it up to the Bay Area about a week before the due date (which was Sep 2).  We had a few days to bop around together, which I can’t really remember right now - although my instagram feed reminds me that we went to Ikea.  We were all excited to have her in the house, especially little Lolo. Unrelated to my mom being there, but also in the “lead up to the big day” category, a couple days in advance, I started to lose my mucus plug.  When I would go to the bathroom, stuff would come out - not anything huge, just like discharge, and once it was weird colors (sorry for the gross out factor, but this is supposed to be helpful for any other moms in my situation who are waiting around and just begging for a sign).  I googled imaged searched probably the worst thing I have ever had to search to verify what it was.

Ok, on to the big day - the day that I would finally find out how it was going to go down.  I would say it started around dinnertime.  My mom was making tortilla soup in the kitchen and I was playing with Lois on the floor.  When Brian came home from work he took her outside to play in the backyard, and I just fell asleep right on the floor where I had been playing.  I woke up when dinner was ready and felt so discombobulated - I had never done something like that before!  At dinner, my usually starving pregnant self stuck to one bowl of soup and just didn’t feel like more (normally I would be into seconds or thirds territory for sure).  In retrospect I know what these 2 out-of-character things mean, but of course I didn’t at the time.

After dinner we started Lois’ bedtime process and got her sweetly off to sleep.  At that point I had started to feel like a lot of cramping - mild, but it kept coming back every so often - not something I had experienced before.  I opened the notes app on my phone to record the times of the cramps around 7pm, but they were so far apart and random that I stopped and deleted the times.  I usually shower every other night, but I randomly decided I wanted one on my off night - maybe hoping to stop the achy feeling, or maybe I subconsciously knew it would be a while until my next one.

We all headed to bed for the night - I can’t remember if I mentioned the cramps to Brian or not - I was feeling superstitious or something, like I should keep this a secret.  By 10:30pm, I thought ok I’ll start recording them again just in case.  As we lay there in bed, I took out my phone every time my back hurt and jotted down the minute - 10:34, 10:41, 10:54, 11:05, 11:13... Finally after an hour or so, I showed Brian - do you think this is anything?  I was confused because it was so gentle - in the movies I’d be hanging on to doorways and deep breathing at this point.  Brian is always more aware of things than I am, and he said - yes, let’s call the nurse line now.  It took a couple calls and call backs, and I told them about the (maybe?) contractions, the mucus plug, and at one point I said I think my water is leaking (even though I’m still not sure if it did or I just peed a little).  I finally got on the phone with the actual midwife that I would end up delivering with - she asked me some key facts about Lois’ birth (how it was pretty fast) and where we lived (not that close) and she told us to come on in.  I’m glad we listened.

Our bags were already packed - we grabbed a few last minute items, and tiptoed downstairs where my mom was in the guest room.  I have a gap in my contraction notes from 12:22-12:48, so that must be when we were getting out the door.  It was sort of fun to wake her up and be like “We out! Thanks for taking care of Lois” and whisk out into the dark night.  Contractions picked up on the way in the car - by the time we got to the hospital they were a mere 2 mins apart and feeling MUCH stronger.  The last contraction I wrote down as we pulled into the parking lot was 1:01.  I remember walking from the car to the building and stopping at a concrete pillar to hold on to it while a contraction passed.

They took us into triage and had me pee into a cup for some reason.  I can’t remember a lot from triage (vs last time when it was like the most chilled out relaxing hour of watching little cute mini contractions on the monitor).  I was pretty cranky already as each contraction was intense.  I’ll have to ask Brian what exactly happened in there - but the next thing I remember they were wheeling me on a gurney into the birthing room.  In my mind, they were asking me as we wheeled down the hallway - do I want an epidural?  And I basically panicked and yelled yes.  I knew that things were probably too far along, so that made the decision confusing, but I also did not want to feel any extra pain that I didn’t need to.

They got me to the room, which was bright and full of people (vs last time when the birthing room was all dark and empty and sleepy).  I sat on the side of the bed and the anesthesiologist came in to prep for the epidural.  I’m not sure how far along they got, but as I sat there, I suddenly felt a big gush and THEN my water really broke.  I was kind of in shock, and looked at Brian and mumbled “water, water” and he thought I was asking for water to drink.  It took me a bit to get the words out “my water broke!” and then it was all over the place.

I sat there a minute more and then yelled at everyone that I needed to push - that was a specific bodily feeling I remembered clearly from last time.  They did a cervix check and said yep you need to push.  This part was a bit harder than last time - I think maybe baby was bigger and I just had less time to wrap my mind around what was happening.  I think I even lightly protested - like, I take it back, I don’t really want to push.  But the whole team said yes, it’s time.  So we pushed for a few mins, taking breaks in between - it was very uncomfortable and I can’t say I was the most cooperative person in the world.  I got a bad tear last time and that was probably in the back of my mind.  At least they had given me nitrous oxide that I could suck from a mask, which is still my favorite thing ever - just a good distraction and I need a good distraction when something this crazy is happening to me.  Brian was by my side the whole time, and (also unlike the movies) I remember thinking he was the only person in the room I wasn’t mad at.  Everyone else was annoying me with cervix checks and telling me to push, but he was just there for support, to see us through.

In the end, I was glad they made me do it because out came Oscar - they put his purple wiggly body on my chest and he cried a great cry.  He had a mop of black hair, so that was something different for us!  His birth time was 2:12am - meaning we had only been at the hospital (parking, intake, triage, and birth) for an hour and eleven minutes total.  That’s what I call efficient!  The good news is I did not tear nearly as bad this time - yay for second baby luck.

I had asked Brian in advance to make sure to take some pics, since I didn’t get any the first time - but between the hair net the anesthesiologist had put on me, the badly chosen purple bra, and the whole disheveled scene, these pics will never see the light of day.  Things quieted down a lot after that, most of the staff left, and we just enjoyed being with our sweet new baby boy.  All his tests looked good and we moved into the recovery room for a few days.

I don’t want to go into too many other details, because the birth story is technically done.  Oscar had a heart murmur - a “very loud” one according to the million doctors that UCSF had milling around.  They took an echocardiogram and asked us to come back in 2 months for follow up - but everything was fine and the hole causing the murmur closed itself up by then.  We had visits from the grandparents and big sister - she loved Oscar off the bat, but was a bit cautious.  Over the months she has grown to love him more and more and it’s so sweet to watch them together.  Good job, little Oscar boy - we can’t wait to see how you grow into yourself day by day.

[hotelconcierge]

Modern Romance

everyone needs a little negative space

(spoilers for all movies discussed)

I.

The advertising campaign in the weeks leading up to the 2017 Oscars—that is, the #Oscarsowhite boycott, low budget underdog Moonlight vs. slick self-congratulatory La La Land, lines drawn based on tribal identity; “I even talked to a voter who gave Moonlight his top vote, sight unseen;” tension building up to a stunning (!!) last minute twist; an insipid academy in which Sean Penn is a voting member “held to task” instead of the people with actual power, i.e. the studios, i.e. us, the viewers—was annoying, to say the least. 

Even so, I am grateful that I will only have to hear “Best Picture winner” and “La La Land” in the same sentence once.

What does white people courtship look like in the age of the internet? Well, OKCupid and asphyxiation, but it’s hard to make a musical out of that one. So what is romance supposed to look like? According to Hollywood: love is someone who makes it so you never have to talk to anyone else.

1. Other People Don’t Exist

There are only two human beings in La La Land: Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. Ryan and Emma have motivations (opening a jazz club, acting) and foibles (Warhammer 40K, keyboard duster). The other characters that appear in the film have neither. Ryan’s sister exists only in contrast to him: she is competent so that we can see that he is neurotic. Then she disappears. John Legend plays a pop jazz player so that Ryan can look downcast and mumble something about plebs. Emma Stone’s roommates wear red, green, and yellow, so that Emma can wear blue.

The film’s closest pass at non-solipsism is the opening number, in which a group of diverse and unrealistically polite Los Angelenos sing about coming to the city to chase their dreams.

[Young Man] I hear 'em ev'ry day The rhythms in the canyons That'll never fade away The ballads in the barrooms Left by those who came before They say "you gotta want it more" So I bang on ev'ry door

[Young Woman] And even when the answer's "no" Or when my money's running low The dusty mic and neon glow Are all I need

The film preempts the critique “how can you make a film about two white people navel gazing in the year 2016?” with this song’s answer, “because everyone else is exactly the same.” Doubtful, but whatever—note that these traffic-bound palette swaps once again redound on Ryan & Emma. Transitive property: if our heroes succeed, so does the whole world.

Of course, it’s not La La Land’s job to be Synecdoche, Los Angeles. There’s nothing wrong with making a romance that focuses very closely on the two leads—the Before Sunrise trilogy comes to mind. But even in those movies, the bit parts seemed to have existences independent from the main characters: an old couple fighting on the train, a disheveled poet smoking on the waterfront. No one in La La Land seems to understand object permanence. Perhaps that’s why they don’t have any friends.

2. Authenticity Is All You Need

Here’s a plot that doesn’t get used anymore: boy lies to girl, girl grows to like boy, lie is revealed, girl is heartbroken, boy renounces lie, boy proves his love by defeating Jack Black in a breakdancing competition, reconciliation, happy ending.

I’ll grant that the above plot is awful, and I don’t recommend that you base your relationships on deceit or anything else from the 90s. But you have to give that guy credit for trying. In La La Land, Emma has to make the first move, twice, for the plot to advance. Ryan then takes Emma to a jazz club (his interest) and invites her to see Rebel Without a Cause (also his interest). I’m not hating, Ryan Gosling is a charming man, they have chemistry, do what thou wilt, I’m just noting a cultural trend. In the olden days, the guy developed a crush and had to "win” the girl; in La La Land, the girl is attracted to the guy’s character sheet, and the plot/romance advances as the guy lets her into his world. (You’re The Worst is a good example of the same, as is Fifty Shades of Grey. Consider whether this represents an increase or decrease in female sexual power.)

This makes Emma Stone, despite her pellegrino bubbliness, the opposite of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

"...that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures." (Wiki)

Rather than convince [brooding, soulful] Ryan Gosling to join Zoroastrianism and wear PLUR bracelets, Emma Stone encourages him to go deeper into his narrowly defined dream. “If the masses don’t get it, so be it!” Thank God this isn’t a Darren Aronofsky film. And Ryan does the same for her—in light of Emma’s failed auditions, he advises her to write a one-woman play, a suggestion that in most states is legal grounds for divorce.

But since this is Hollywood, literally and figuratively, both of them become wildly successful.

3. A Sense Of An Ending

Spoiler alert, Ryan and Emma don’t end up together. They get something much better.

In the final scene, Emma (now a famous actress) and her husband (generic dude) stumble into Ryan’s jazz club. He shoots her a glance (“this could be us, but you playin’”), taps out the recurring musical motif, and triggers a five minute Mulholland Drive dream sequence in which Emma imagines their hypothetical life together in space and etc. Look of mutual acknowledgement. Close.

The sad end was inevitable, just ask Titanic, happy endings aren’t nearly as Oscar-worthy. A happy ending raises questions, namely, what next? Kids? Montessori schools? Home Depot? Chablis? Book club? Will you be able to sustain the passion that brought you this far? That’s not romantic, that’s terrifying.

The sad ending lets you idealize the relationship, imagining the emotional peaks without having to reckon with the flatline. And for the same reason, the sad ending serves as a lasting reminder of your own power. “I had her when she was beautiful. And I was the best she ever had.” Lost in her own memories, she’s never going to tell you different.

II.

As usual, there’s a person to blame for all this, and that person is Sofia Coppola.

Every one of the above tropes was codified by Lost In Translation. Most of the side characters didn’t speak English, so no way were they going to get a second dimension. The movie is obsessed with authenticity: Scar Jo picks Bill Murray because he sees through the facade of whiskey commercials (unlike the Japanese, or her husband); Bill Murray escapes his fabric-cataloguing wife; the two of them retreat into each other’s company in lieu of the outside world. And the ending—Bill Murray whispers something unheard, kisses his co-star, and the two of them part ways, leaving behind a bittersweet yet somehow self-aggrandizing memory.

Lost In Translation wasn’t a musical, but its aesthetic was music video, shoegaze guitars and long dialogue-free shots of cityscape, #dream, #urban, #intimate. The movie’s descendants (Her being the closest mimic) are no less dependent on the fuzz pedal. Like a Valentine’s day mixtape, like an album put on pre-coitus, the music is chosen not to set the mood, but to soundtrack the scene for your future self. “When I look back on this, I want to feel...”

This is nice in small doses, sure. Lost In Translation had some good parts. La La Land wasn’t my brand, but I can’t knock the craft—the camera did some sick ollies, the song and dance routine was probably great if you’re into platonic cuddling and Apples to Apples. I don’t think these are bad movies, I just think you should be aware of what your unconscious is signing up for. 

The underlying assumption of these films is that romance is best experienced in retrospect. You can spot the victims of this worldview by their Uniqlo flannel and sensitive eyes, constantly mourning some shower sex long past, lonely and even more so around others, unable to enjoy relationships until they implode, because then and only then are they understandable as stories. The underlying assumption is that if you wait long enough, love will find you, validate your disconnection from the human species, and depart without asking anything in return. These aren’t romance movies, they’re movies about the romance of movies. The comfort only lasts as long as the lights are dimmed.

[shenglingyuan]

title: fluid mechanics and the concept of attraction (ao3) pairing: dazai/akutagawa Akutagawa Ryuunosuke has never been bad at school. In retrospect, he shouldn't have probably chosen engineering. Fortunately(or unfortunately) for him, a senior is willing to help.

Akutagawa has never been bad at school. Heck, he’d been a star student himself during his high school days. He was the type of student that everyone else went to because he knows all the answers. Yet, he seems to be the one grasping for those in university.

 He shouldn’t have taken engineering. He should have shifted during his first year. But he’d been stuck in the same department for the last three years without even loving his degree, and now his scholarship hangs in a balance.

 He broods about all of these in the library, silently staring at the students outside who didn’t seem to be feeling the pressure of the upcoming midterm exams. How can they afford to be lax at such crucial period? How can they have fun?

 Akutagawa has probably lost his sense of fun midway his first year. With all the requirements and the grade quotas he must maintain, he put his social status as a last priority. He had received a lot of invites from different organizations and fraternities, but he ignored them all. He wouldn’t be able to commit his full attention to his academics if he had distractions such as those. It is most important to keep his scholarship so that he can assist his sister with her school fees, as well. If he lose the scholarship now, both of them would have nowhere to go to.

 At that moment, he sees Dazai Osamu - a senior - passing by with his horde of friends trailing behind him. His chest tightens for a second, and he tries to avert his gaze. Dazai Osamu is an extraordinary person in his eyes. Elected as first year representative in his freshmen days, a student government councilor in his sophomore years, and the student government chairman for the two consecutive years, all these while not losing his spot in the Dean’s List and his very lively social network.

 Akutagawa respects him very much, and he still has yet to engage in a conversation with him. He isn’t the type of crowd that Dazai Osamu hangs out with. And how can he, a scholar in probation, wish to even be around the presence of a person such as him?

 He slumps behind his book and embraces the coldness that has always been his constant companion.

 -

 “He’s staring at you again,” Chuuya notes as he hooks an arm around Dazai’s shoulders, “The third year kid.”

 Dazai sweeps a quick glance and sees the said kid through the glass panels of the library, engrossed in reading a fluid mechanics textbook. He’s been seeing him a lot around the building, but he’s never talked to him once despite being under the same scholarship. He’s quite the outcast, he heard.

 “The scholarship kid? The one you repeatedly invited to your fraternity but declined?”

 “If you actually put it that way, you two are quite the same.” Chuuya lets out a laugh. “But anyway, who else would I be talking about? ”

 “I told you, notify me only if pretty girls are the ones staring at me.”

 “No girls stare at you, you know.”

 “You’re just purposely not telling me. You can’t forcibly hoard the girls if they don’t like you.”

 “Whatever.”

 That kid must be in need of something from him, right?

 Nevertheless, Dazai’s curiosity has peaked as well.

 -

 Akutagawa leaves the library only when the librarian tells him they were closing soon. He was one of the last few people in there and he hurriedly borrows the textbook he is reading. Gin tells him he should just look up his references over the internet, but he tells her one cannot rely entirely on the web. Half of it is founded on lies and conspiracy.

 It’s past 6 when he makes his way out of the building. It’s notably quiet this night with only a handful of students milling around. There are only two reasons for that: either the other students have gone home early to finally study, or they went out somewhere to have fun.

 The streetlights lining the paths lit up all at once, and Akutagawa starts walking. He hates the silence. It makes him think a lot of unnecessary things. Thinking about the future only brings anxiety, there is only the present to think of.

 “Hey.” An unfamiliar voice breaks through his reverie. He raises his eyes and finds himself looking at reddish-brown eyes and a cool smile. “Mind if I talk to you?”

 Dazai Osamu. Akutagawa freezes on his spot, completely taken by surprise with such unannounced encounter. Has he been waiting here the whole time?

 “I’m not interested in joining your organization, or fraternity, or whatever group you’re in.”

 Dazai laughs. “I know that. You’re Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, right? I’ve heard of you.”

 He knows me.

 “You’re under the same scholarship as I am. And I’ve heard you’re having a little trouble.”

 “Who told you that?” Akutagawa frowns.

 “Does it matter?” Dazai shrugs. “The truth is, our benefactor wouldn’t want to have his scholars being removed from the program. It’ll hurt his credentials in some way I don’t understand. I’m his best scholar, and he tapped me to help you.”

 “Why wouldn’t he tell me that himself?”

 “Who knows how a rich man’s mind works?”

 “I don’t need anyone’s help.” Akutagawa starts walking past him, eager to avoid this completely unreal and absurd conversation with the person he’s looked up to for a long time. It’s making him feel even more low.

 “That’s true for you, but how about your sister?”

 Akutagawa stops in his tracks but makes no motion to turn around.

 “You’re on scholarship, and you use your monthly allowance to fund your sister’s education,” Dazai continues, now stepping closer to Akutagawa. “Are you willing to risk losing that?”

 “What can you do?” He cranes his neck to the side, and they meet eye to eye.

 Dazai smiles playfully. “I can tutor you.”

 “At what price?”

 “Why don’t we talk about the price when we get results, no?” Dazai put a hand over Akutagawa’s shoulder. “I’ll be expecting you tomorrow afternoon at the rooftop.”

 Dazai taps his shoulder once and leaves with a satisfied smile on his face.

 “I haven’t even said yes!” Akutagawa calls out after a moment. It took him a while to absorb the fact that Dazai Osamu himself offered to mentor him.

 “Oh you’ll be there!” Dazai replies, waving his hand in the air.

 Akutagawa hates how he could be right.

 -

 It’s why the next day, Akutagawa intentionally did not go to the rooftop. He has also simultaneously avoided coming in contact with Dazai or any of his friends, just in case. He feels like a fugitive running from authorities. It’s not like he doesn’t want to see Dazai. Heaven knows he has longed to talked to the man for the longest time. But he doesn’t want it to be like this, not when he’s at his lowest. There couldn’t be any more embarrassing circumstance than meeting Dazai Osamu when he himself has no face to show anyone.

 And there he is, sitting at the furthest table of the library, the one hidden behind several bookshelves. On the neighboring table to his left, a girl is sleeping on top of a widely opened textbook, and on his right, a couple is being…touchy. Akutagawa shifts his body away from the couple to save him from the second-hand embarrassment-

 And finds himself looking at the nearing figure of Dazai Osamu.

 “Akutagawa Ryuunosuke,” Dazai speaks in a low voice, but he manages to send a chill down Akutagawa’s spine, “I believe we had an appointment?”

 “I don’t remember agreeing to it.”

 Dazai drags a nearby chair and sits in front of him, showing a wry smile. “I don’t believe you have a choice about the matter.” In a flash, he manages to take Akutagawa’s notebook from the table even before he could react.

 “Hey-”

 “Look at your methods,” Dazai pores over his notes, scrutinizing every corner of every page. Akutagawa tries getting it back, but Dazai keeps it beyond his reach. “You look smart, but your thoughts aren’t organized in your computations.”

 “That’s how I think.”

 “And we have to fix that. Because in the end, you’ll arrive at the wrong answer if your thoughts are a mess.” He fishes out a pen and moves his chair closer to Akutagawa, pointing at a certain formula in his notebook. “Application of Navier-Stokes Equation. We’re looking for the velocity distribution inside the pipe here, right? What coordinates should we use then? You didn’t take it note here.”

 “That should be common sense.” Akutagawa is almost irritated by the question. Almost. “Cylindrical coordinates.”

 “Okay. But even if it’s common sense, if this is filled with tons of information-” Dazai taps the butt of the pen against his temple, “-you’ll tend to forget the smallest details. Writing is wisdom, as a friend of mine always say.”

 Dazai writes in between his already written notes: pipe -> cylindrically symmetric -> cylindrical coordinates.

 “I don’t think that’s a type of information I’d forget.”

 “Shush.”Dazai wags a finger just a little over his mouth. “You listen to your senior.”

 “I didn’t ask for your help.”

 “Akutagawa.” Dazai taps his chin with the pen and makes him look at his eyes. In the small distance between them, Akutagawa sees how dark and bottomless this man’s eyes are. He’s not a celebrated person for nothing. He’s not someone Akutagawa respects for nothing. In a short moment, he becomes cold and powerful. “Who are you studying for?”

 “Gin. My sister.”

 “So you have someone you’re fighting for. You’re about to get the help you need to let you keep supporting your dear sister. Are you really going to be stubborn and sacrifice that?”

 Akutagawa shakes his head. “No.”

 A few moments pass, then Dazai smiles again losing all that coldness that he just suddenly brought upon. Akutagawa thinks the air feels freer somehow.

 “Good boy. Let’s go back to our topic then, shall we?”

 -

 “You’re lying.” Chuuya stops midway from eating his food in his surprise. “Even if it’s you, you couldn’t have had spent some time with Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.”

 “I will side with Nakahara-san on this one,” Atsushi Nakajima comments. “I’m as the same year with Akutagawa and he has never interacted with anyone of us outside unless required by our courses. There is no way he’d talk to you, Dazai-san.”

 “Oh, but he did,” Dazai smiles proudly, leaning back against his chair. “I thought him fluid mechanics.”

 Atsushi frowns a little. “Akutagawa is a smart student. He wouldn’t ask help for such general topic.”

 “I didn’t say he asked for it.”

 “Dazai.” Chuuya’s voice has adapted the tone that he usually uses when he think Dazai is playing around yet again. “What are you planning?”

 “Am I that evil in your eyes that you think I wouldn’t help a person in need out of the goodness of-”

 “No.”

 “I haven’t even finished yet.”

 “No.”

 “You-”

 “But, Dazai-san,” Atsushi interrupts the brewing argument between his two seniors, “Even if you chose to help Akutagawa on your own, shouldn’t you have chosen another student that actually needs the help?”

 “Goodness isn’t questioned, Atsushi.” He puts a hand over his own chest dramatically. “You just accept it.”

 “The next thing you know, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is sitting with us on this table,” Chuuya mutters almost angrily. Dazai, unfortunately, manages to catch it.

 “What a terrific idea, Chuuya. You’re actually good for something!” Dazai snaps his fingers in the air and points at the door, the same time as Akutagawa enters the cafeteria. “Akutagawa!”

 He’s easy to spot, as he almost always wears black. The stream of people continue to pass by him. He, however, stops walking and just stares directly at Dazai. He seems to be surprised to be called from the crowd.

 “Akutagawa!”Dazai calls again, motioning with his hand. “Come here.”

 He does look a bit uncomfortable as he neared their group. He is just carrying a notebook on his hand, and a small sling bag is on his shoulders.

 “Dazai-san,” Akutagawa offers the notebook to him, “I did the problems you gave yesterday.”

 “Already?” Dazai opens the notebook and skims through his solutions. “Oh good. This way is even better than before. See, you got the correct answers. You were a bit slow to get all of these yesterday but there is considerable improvement.”

 Chuuya and Atsushi both notice that Akutagawa brightens a little. Just a little bit.

 “Anyway, Akutagawa,” Dazai returns his notebook. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

 “Are you going to teach me something?” Akutagawa looks confused.

 “No. We’re going to eat.” He points his fingers towards his companions. “This is Chuuya, and this is Atsushi. I’m sure you know Atsushi.”

 “Hi Akutagawa,” Atsushi smiles. He is met with an indifferent stare.

 “I already ate,” he replies quietly. “I’ll be going now.”

 “Well, what a cold guy,” Chuuya comments once Akutagawa is out of hearing shot. “How could you stand him?”

 “I’ve met worse,” Dazai shrugs, taking a bite of his burger. “He’s better than most people.”

 Atsushi throws him an amused smile. “Sometimes, I’m amazed about your sense for people, Dazai-san.”

 -

 As much as Akutagawa hates to admit it, the mentoring sessions with Dazai helped him get 82% in the midterms. It’s a feat, his professor tells him, as he seems to have looked lost throughout the half of the semester. He hates his professor for that comment.

 He hates it even more that Nakajima Atsushi is 2% higher than him.

 He’ll be sure to beat him in the finals.

 -

 Akutagawa meets with Dazai more diligently after that. He’s even started to join him during breaks they have together. It doesn’t matter if he had to endure sitting on the same table with Nakajima Atsushi. If it meant he’d get to beat him in the near future, then it’ll be even more worth it.

 Dazai, on his part, is very pleased.

 “You’re just like that because it makes you feel good to be needed,” Chuuya tells him one break when Akutagawa leaves early for a group meeting, “You’re so pathetic that you needed a lost soul to give you a reason to live or something.”

 “Why are you always so rude to me, Chuuya? Don’t tell me you’re still not over that time I-”

 “Shut up.” Chuuya snaps at him, threatening him with a fork, “We don’t talk about that anymore.”

 “Akutagawa seems to have been even colder to me after the midterms,” Atsushi tells them, chewing thoughtfully on his food, “All my attempts to befriend him here have all but failed.”

 “You’ve got to forgive him. You’ve got a higher score than he did in the midterms, after all,” Dazai leans forward and whispers, “He really took it seriously.”

 “Does he hate me now?”

 “Probably.” Dazai finishes all the food on his tray. “Don’t take it to the heart. It’s just a subject.”

 “Where are you hurrying to now?” Chuuya asks him as he stands up.

 “Akutagawa’s next class. I promised to sit in. He tells me there are things his professor is teaching that is not in his books.” Dazai gives them a wave. “Later!”

 Chuuya looks at him disapprovingly as he walks away humming.

 “He’s getting himself into trouble, that guy.”

 “What’s new with that?” Atsushi looks at him, an eyebrow raised.

 “He’s not going to come out of this unscathed, that’s what.”

 -

 “Can I ask a question?”

 It’s around four in the afternoon, Dazai is leaning on the rooftop terrace. Akutagawa is sitting on the floor next to him, answering a set of questions Dazai gave. He’s answered ten out of ten, yet there’s a single question that’s been hanging on his mind.

 “Hm?” Dazai looks down on him, his headphones hanging around his neck.

 “I e-mailed the chairman yesterday. He said he didn’t ask you to tutor me.”

 Dazai shows no reaction. “And, what’s your question?”

 “Why?”

 “Why did I lie? Why am I tutoring you?”

 Akutagawa nods.

 Dazai looks away, a smile forming on his lips. “If I answer that I wanted to help you, would that be enough?”

 “Is it the truth?”

 “Not entirely.”

 “Would you tell me the whole truth, though?”

 He shrugs. “Who knows?”

 Akutagawa thinks for a moment. It’s disrespectful to push him further for an answer, isn’t it? He’s lucky enough to be paid attention by Dazai Osamu. It should be an abuse to force him to answer his measly questions.

 “Then your answer is good enough.” He gives him his notebook. “Can you check mine?”

 Dazai raises an eyebrow as he looked over his solutions. “You’re improving even more.”

 “I’ve got the best mentor,” Akutagawa mutters before he can stop himself. Dazai hears, of course, and he laughs.

 “Of course. And that’s why you’re acing your finals as well.”

 -

 Akutagawa is alone with Gin in their room, albeit they occupy opposite sides of the small space. He’s been immersing himself over his books and the notes Dazai helped him with. He can sense his sister looking at him many times, but he didn’t let it bother him. It’s the final exams for three of his majors. If he wants to truly impress Dazai, then he has to work his best.

 “You seem spirited, Ryuu,” Gin finally says from her side of the room. She herself is reading a book on elementary calculus, a subject she doesn’t particularly like and finds hard. He’d help her if he isn’t in a tight spot as well. He trusts that she can succeed on this one anyway/

 “It’s finals week,” he mutters, not breaking eye contact with his notes.

 “You’re not like that last finals week.”

 Akutagawa focuses on writing down his solution for one problem. Gin is aware that all their money is mostly coming from his scholarship. Her part-time job just pays enough to give her her own allowance.

 “My scholarship is in probationary,” he finally tells her. She should know, if their living conditions are in trouble.

 “Oh.” Gin sounds only mildly surprised.

 “Oh?”

 “I mean, well, is that why there was a guy who was with you the other night when you arrived home? He’s your tutor?”

 “Yeah, why?”

 “Was that Dazai Osamu? The guy you’ve always been telling me about?”

 “He is.”

 Gin’s eyes widen slightly, as if a moment of clarity has just happened to her.

 “What is it?” Akutagawa prods on.

 “Nothing,” Gin shakes her head, “I just thought you looked cute together.”

 “Cute?” This time, Akutagawa fully detaches himself from his reviewers to look at his sister in a complete surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

 “Don’t you like him?”

 “I like him. I’ve looked up to him since I entered university, you know that. He’s…he’s the man I wish I could be.”

 “I do know that,” Gin combs her hair back in frustration. She stands up from her bed and goes to her brother, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What I mean is, don’t you like him beyond that admiration of yours?”

 Akutagawa looks confused.

 “Don’t you wish that you’re spending a lot of time with him? That you get to see him most of the time? Aren’t you starting to crave for his company?”

 “I’m…,” Akutagawa actually gives it a thought. Hasn’t he felt that way for a long time now? Is Gin saying it’s different from idolizing Dazai?

 “Don’t you always want to see him smile?”

 He recalls Dazai earlier, basking in the afternoon wind and the setting sun, the small smile on his lips as he said that he wanted to help him. Akutagawa’s chest tightens.

 “And if I do?”

 “Then you like him,” Gin smiles. Akutagawa feels cold all of a sudden. “How long have you not realized this?”

 -

 Dazai has been waiting for around half an hour already at the rooftop. Akutagawa has still yet to come. It’s just like the first time they were supposed to meet and Akutagawa bailed on him. The only difference is, he feels disappointed at the moment.

 A little too disappointed.

 -

 “Akutagawa?”

 Atsushi spots the huddled figure of Akutagawa behind one of the shelves in the library. Akutagawa is sitting on the floor, the hood of his jacket covering his head. Upon hearing his name, Akutagawa looks up at him, a frown already forming on his forehead.

 “What do you need?”

 “Nothing, I just…thought you’re supposed to meet with Dazai-san again today. We were just together earlier and he left because he said he’d still be teaching you.”

 Akutagawa shifts on his place, suddenly seeming uncomfortable with the topic. “I don’t recall agreeing to meet with him today,” he mutters as he stands up, gathering his things.

 “Where are you going?”

 “Home. I’ll continue studying there.”

 “But Dazai-san would be looking for you.”

 “Tell him I’m not feeling well.”

 -

 Dazai sees Akutagawa’s retreating figure from the rooftop even if he is covered in his black hood. There is a certain hurry in his step that makes him look like he’s running away from something. From someone.

 From me?

 The music from his headphones fades as he hears his ringtone.

 He presses on the answer button. “Hello?”

 “Dazai-san.”

 “Oh, Atsushi, what is it?”

 “I saw Akutagawa just a while ago. He says he’s sick so he can’t come today?”

 Dazai watches as Akutagawa gets even smaller from his sight.

 “Did he look sick to you?”

 “Honestly, he looks sickly all the time anyway.”

 “Huh,” Dazai removes himself from the railing and heads for the door.

 “That’s all, by the way. I figured you might still be waiting on the rooftop.”

 “Thanks for the heads up. I’m on my way down.”

 “Where are you going now?”

 “To Akutagawa. Where else?”

 -

 Akutagawa welcomes the silence of the room as he closes the door behind him. He catches his breath, quite tired from half-walking, half-running from the college. He certainly does not feel afraid of meeting Dazai again. He really just needed the time alone to review. Did he?

 Falling on his bed face down, Gin’s words seem to haunt him again in the stillness of his surrounding.

 How long have you not realized this?

 How long has he looked up to Dazai? At which point did his admiration turn into attraction? These are questions he can’t seem to answer at the moment. He’d rather have another mechanics problem scrambling his brains than this. Frustrated, he groans into his pillow. Why must Gin ask such question at a time like this?

 A knock on his door breaks the flood of anxiety. He waits for the second knock before he gets himself off the bed and goes for the door to open it.

 “Hello, Akutagawa.”

 Dazai Osamu stands before him.

 Akutagawa would have closed the door again if it isn’t for Dazai’s arm stopping him from doing so.

 “Atsushi said you’re sick?” Dazai scans him from head to toe. “You don’t look sick to me.”

 “I…did not exactly say it like that,” he feels like shrinking at the lack of humor in Dazai’s eyes. “I said I’m not feeling well. That statement is not strictly limited to the physical body.”

 “Don’t try to be a smart-ass,” Dazai knocks his forehead with his knuckles lightly, “I have a higher GPA than you when I was your year. Let me in.”

 “Let you in?” Akutagawa asks in confusion, rubbing the spot where Dazai hit him.”Why?”

 “To teach you, of course.” Dazai lets himself in, immediately finding his spot on the edge of Akutagawa’s bed. His books are just peeking from his bag and Dazai pulls them all out. “Finals are next week.”

 Akutagawa is still standing by the doorway, unsure of how he should proceed with this.

 “You must also have final exams to review for, Dazai-san. Thesis to write? You shouldn’t be wasting your time on me.”

 “Wasting my time?” Dazai throws him a smile. “Why, I’m quite enjoying this. And you’re learning aren’t you?” Akutagawa nods. “Then no time is wasted.”

 Dazai pats the spot next to him as if he is the one owning the place. Akutagawa is compelled to sit beside him, but he makes sure to keep an ample amount of space between the two of them.

 “How can I teach you if you’re on the other end of the bed?”

 Maybe too much space.

 Akutagawa moves closer, trying not to think about Gin and her stupid question.

 “Are you scared of me?” Dazai asks.

 Akutagawa quickly shakes his head. “No, not at all.”

 To his surprise, Dazai moves as well, closing the distance between them by a mere half a meter or less. He can see the specks on his bottomless eyes. “This should be fine, then.”

 Memories are strongly related with emotions. Akutagawa has read about that some time ago. He wonders if this certain emotion he’s feeling at the moment will help him remember the important things during the actual day of his examination.

 -

 Patience is not a virtue Chuuya has learned to apply in his life, especially when it comes to Dazai. They had agreed that morning that they will meet in a nearby coffeeshop to finish their theses together. He remembers clearly telling him that they are to meet at exactly six in the evening, yet it’s already seven-thirty and Dazai is nowhere near his sight. He has called him thrice; none were answered. Dazai will be getting an earful the moment his sorry-ass appears.

 It does appear, much to his annoyance, after half an hour more of waiting. Wherein his own face is contorted into a frown, Dazai’s is even brighter than usual.

 “Let me guess,” Chuuya remarks as soon as Dazai takes his place before him, “You came from another tutoring session with your dearest junior.”

 “Yeah, that’s right. I couldn’t answer your calls earlier.” He still looks very much pleased with himself.

 “We agreed on six,” Chuuya notes, “I’m halfway through my R&D. You wouldn’t progress with your thesis if you’re still playing around.”

 Dazai’s face shifts to something that resembles being mildly offended. “Haven’t you heard? I’m on revision stage now.”

 “A lie. And don’t try to shift the topic. What’s your real deal with Akutagawa?”

 For once, Dazai looks actually serious. “I’m not playing around.”

 “Then what do you call that thing you’re doing? The only time you spend with Akutagawa is the time you’re teaching him. You imply that you like him but you don’t even have the guts to ask the person out.” Chuuya sighs exasperatedly. “Playing around, just as you always do. You’re a headache, honestly.”

 Chuuya returns his attention to his thesis, giving up all hope in talking to Dazai about his attitude on relationships. Dazai prides himself to be a center of attraction, but when it is himself that gets attracted to somebody, things get complicated.

 “What am I supposed to do, then?” Dazai asks after many excruciating minutes of silence. Chuuya is already at the Discussion part of his paper. “I don’t want to look like I’m playing around, because believe me, I’m not.”

 “You’re an incompetent idiot,” Chuuya crosses his arms before him, but he can’t help smiling in amusement, “You start by telling him that you like him, of course.”

 -

 There is a ghost of a smile on Akutagawa’s face when Atsushi crosses paths with him in the faculty department. A folded paper is on Akutagawa’s hands, and Atsushi assumes it is their checked final exam. He himself is about to get his paper at the same time. When Akutagawa notices him, that smile fades in a flash.

 “I want to know your score,” Akutagawa speaks first which greatly surprises Atsushi.

 “Oh, yeah. Of course,” he replies, “You can wait for me here?”

 A single nod is all he got. His competitiveness still greatly weirds out Atsushi, but it’s good to see him pretty fired up.

 He’s pleased with himself when he got his own exam, the result being higher than he expected. 87% isn’t any bad at all. A careless solution on one problem could have gave him another 2%, but all is well that ends well.

 He almost forgets that Akutagawa is waiting for him if only Akutagawa didn’t clear his throat the moment he stepped out of the faculty. Right.

 “I got 87,” Atsushi says in the humblest tone that he could muster. “And you?”

 The smile on Akutagawa’s face returns.

 “89.”

 -

 Dazai has always been bad at dealing with his feelings. Sure, he gets a lot of attention, and most of the time he tries to reciprocate them back especially if the giver is a fine beautiful lady that he could be proud hanging out with. Yet, in these situations, he never found himself to be as invested as the other person is to him. Chuuya has repeatedly reprimanded him on this, yet he never fails to do it again and again. It’s not like he’s purposely not getting himself invested; it’s just that he finds it hard to. Something is always amiss, and because of that something, he can’t quite commit.

 Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, however, is an entirely different case.

 One, Akutagawa never really was vocal about liking him. Yeah, he has known about it sometime ago even before he offered to tutor him. But Akutagawa never acted on it nor shown any sign of feeling so, and so Dazai never felt the need to return the favor.

 Two, he’s actually grown to like Akutagawa and started to put effort onto it. If he had to work on his thesis just a little bit later at night so that he can make sure Akutagawa understood their topic, then it’s perfectly fine. He wasn’t lying when he told Akutagawa that his time is not wasted. He never felt like it at all.

 For the first time since God knows when, Dazai feels like committing.

 You start by telling him that you like him, of course. Chuuya’s advice sounds so simple, yet Dazai is feeling very anxious about it. Akutagawa will be getting his final exam results today, and they agreed to meet at the rooftop so that he can know his scores as well. He plans to tell Akutagawa he likes him at the same time. It should be easy, shouldn’t it?

 He hears the door open. He turns around and is pleased to see that it is Akutagawa.

 “There you are,” Dazai greets him with a smile. “How was your final exam?”

 “See for yourself,” Akutagawa gives him a folded paper.

 Dazai unfolds it and immediately sees the red 89% at the upper right hand corner of the paper. “Impressive,” he lets out a small laugh, “This is really good.”

 “It’s thanks to you, Dazai-san. Because of that, my scholarship is saved. I’m really grateful.”

 He shakes his head in reply, returning his paper. “It’s not all because of me. You’re a really intelligent person as well, Akutagawa. One of the best I’ve encountered. You should really start believing in yourself more.”

 Akutagawa seems to have frozen in front of him, his eyes wide in surprise. His face has become pinkish somehow, or it could just be a trick of the setting sun.

 “Akutagawa?”

 Dazai is just about to ask if he is feeling well when Akutagawa suddenly grabs his paper from his hands. He looks utterly flushed.

 “T-The payment.” Akutagawa finally speaks, his voice coming out weaker. “You said before that we’ll talk about the price of your mentoring when we finally get results.”

 “I said that?” Dazai feigns ignorance.

 “I could pay you soon, my allowance will be remitted next week. Just give me time to compute the hours, and you should give me your hourly rate-”

 “I don’t need that. I’m getting the same allowance, remember?” Dazai cuts him off, stepping a little closer and not taking his eyes off of his. “I actually have a different kind of payment in mind.”

 Akutagawa’s shoulders tense, and Dazai holds onto them with his hands ever so lightly.

 “I like you,” Dazai starts, bringing his voice down that only Akutagawa could hear the wholeness and sincerity of it. Dazai has never done things like this, and he’s hoping he’s doing it the right way. “I like you a lot, if ever you haven’t noticed it before.”

 “I…I like you, too, Dazai-san,” Akutagawa replies, much to Dazai’s pleasure.

 He throws him an amused smile. “I know.”

 “It’s not the ‘like’ that a person feels for someone they idolizes,” Akutagawa adds, bent on getting his point across. “I mean, I’ve been idolizing you since I entered university, but somehow, it has grown into…into-”

 “Attraction?” Dazai completes for him. “I understand that completely. I offered to tutor you out of curiosity. I wanted to know who you are aside from what I’ve been hearing from other people. The next thing I know, that curiosity has also turned that.”

 “Attraction?” Akutagawa asks, still looking at him in disbelief.

 “Is it so hard to believe that I could get attracted to you?”

 “I’m not the type that attracts other people. I usually repel them.”

 “Well, to be more accurate, you push them away. You did the same to me, you know. It’s just that other people aren’t patient enough with you.”

 “Then the payment you’re asking…?”

 “I want you to answer my question. A simple yes or no.” Dazai closes his eyes and breathes deeply, heightening the anxiety in Akutagawa’s chest. When he looks at him again, Akutagawa’s heart seems to leap out of its place. “Are you willing to give the concept of ‘us’ a chance?”

 Akutagawa smiles.

 Dazai has never seen Akutagawa smile before. If he had, he would have fallen at first sight.

 “Yes, Dazai-san.”

 He closes the distance between them with one more step, and he plants a soft kiss on Akutagawa’s forehead. Akutagawa makes a sound of mild surprise, but he soon returns the favor, wrapping his arms around Dazai.

 It feels warm.

[junker-town]

What would the free agent stars of yesterday make today?

Would Fernando Valenzuela make $300 million as a free agent today? What about Tim Raines?

We’ve known since March that this wasn’t going to be a very good free agent class. It’s still stunning to think that there was only one nine-figure contract handed out all offseason, a $110 million deal to Yoenis Cespedes that was almost something of a hometown discount. Where’s all the big money? Where are all the gargantuan contracts?

Somewhere, at this moment, a retired player is spitting on the ground in disgust, thinking about these pampered players and their stupid money. Andrew Cashner will make $10 million next year, even though he was awful last season. The price of a backup catcher is somewhere between $2 million and $3 million.

The retired player spits on the ground again. Don’t talk to them about the slow offseason and the lack of nine-figure contracts. They wish they had a chance at the riches of today.

So let’s give them that chance! Let’s figure out what the stars of yesteryear would have made if they were free agents today, just like we did here and here, which will point out both how unlucky they were to be born when they were, and how advantageous or perilous the modern contract can be for a team that chooses wisely or poorly.

What if these stars were free agents right now?

Fernando Valenzuela

When would he have been a free agent? After the 1986 season.

What kind of season did he just finish? He finished second in the Cy Young voting, leading the league with 21 wins and posting a 3.14 ERA. He led the National League in batters faced for the second time in three seasons, and he led all of baseball in complete games.

These were not red flags. These were the fires churning in the belly of Fernandomania. He was 25. He was a golden god of pitching. He was baseball’s best.

Total money made in his career? $17.3 million, or about $33.5 million in today’s money.

Contract today? Six straight All-Star Games. Four top-five Cy Young finishes, with one win. Heck, through the two Silver Sluggers and a Gold Glove on there, just because you can. This was one of baseball’s biggest stars, and he was so very young.

Ten years, $270 million, with an opt-out after year three. So it was basically a front-loaded three-year deal, because what were the chances going to be that he was going to opt out?

Would it have been worth it? No. Oh, man, no. Valenzuela was one of the ‘80s saddest tales, even as he was also one of the decade’s most triumphant. He was overworked, at least in retrospect. At the time, he was a horse. A reliable, indestructible horse.

Prior to six years of service time: 99 wins, 2.94 ERA, 119 ERA+, 28 WAR Rest of his career (11 seasons): 74 wins, 4.23 ERA, 92 ERA+, 9.5 WAR

He would have been paid like an MVP, but he pitched like a sixth starter. The human body is, we must remind you, a total jerk.

Tim Raines

When would he have been a free agent? We know that! He was a free agent after the 1986 season.

What kind of season did he just finish? He led the league in batting average and on-base percentage, with a .334/.413/.476 line. Oh, and 70 stolen bases. He was going to be 27.

Notes Every team in baseball pretended like they couldn’t use him. “What, Tim Raines? Eh, doesn’t really fit our plans.”

Not only that, but he had to wait until May to rejoin his original team because of silly rules. Real subtle, owners. If you’re going to collude, maybe start small and work your way up. This was like them starting a boxing career by challenging Manny Pacquiao in a bar.

Total money made in his career? He made about $35.7 million, which is roughly equivalent to about $75 million today.

Contract today? Keep in mind that his defense wasn’t as good as you would expect from a speedster, and there was a reason he was limited to left field. But a 27-year-old superstar with 461 career stolen bases already, coming off an MVP-caliber season? If you figure that Robinson Cano got $240 million when he was going to be 31, it’s not outlandish to go for $300 million or more.

Ten years, $325 million.

Would it have been worth it? Not quite, but it’s closer than you might think. From his age-27 season through his age-36 season, Raines was worth about three to four wins above replacement, on average, with a 121 OPS+ and a .382 OBP. There were a couple seasons where he didn’t miss 30 games or more because of injury, but those were the exceptions, not the rule, and that dinged his overall value.

But, remember, the owners of all 30 teams said, “Eh, this guy isn’t worth $3 million to us [winkwinkwink]”, and thought the MLBPA wouldn’t notice. Bulletproof strategy, guys.

Hoyt Wilhelm

When would he have been a free agent? After the 1957 season, when he was 34.

What kind of season did he just finish? A pretty mediocre one. The knuckleballer threw just 58 innings, with a middling 4.14 ERA (96 ERA+). The Cardinals actually put him on waivers because their catchers were sick of catching the damned knuckleball.

Wilhelm had one of the more fascinating careers in baseball, not debuting in the majors until he was 29, then pitching for 21 seasons, retiring when he was 49. He was an All-Star when he was 47, which is just about the greatest tidbit in the history of baseball tidbits. He pitched 1,103 innings in the ‘60s, with an ERA of 2.16 (160 ERA+), even though he was 37 when the decade started.

Science should create another Hoyt Wilhelm for us.

Total money made in his career? A cool $402,000, which would be worth roughly $3.2 million today.

Contract today? Probably a one-year deal? A two-year deal for about $10 million, maybe? He wasn’t exactly dominant the two seasons before that, either (3.88 ERA, 102 ERA+), so there wasn’t a chance of a long-term deal. He would have been for a team willing to take a rubber-armed chance at the back of the bullpen.

Would it have been worth it? Of course. Just imagine if he signed the Tim Wakefield contract, where the team had an eternal $4 million option. He would have been on of the greatest bargains of his generation, even though he was a part of the previous generation, technically.

While his first free-agent contract would have been a steal, he would have made up for it in the decades that followed. But his age would have scared teams away from long-term deals. Remember that when your team signs Bartolo Colon to a five-year deal next winter.

Robin Yount

When would he have been a free agent? As far as I can tell, he was on the roster from the beginning of the 1974 season, which means he would have accumulated six years of service time after the 1979 season. This distinction is kind of a big deal, as waiting an extra year might have made him an additional $100 million.

What kind of season did he just finish? Not a great one, at least offensively. He hit .267/.308/.371, good for an 83 OPS+. The defensive stats loved him, though, as did the scouts, so even that kind of line was worth about three wins. He was a career .270/.308/.364 hitter, and he averaged about six homers a year.

Most importantly, though: He was going to be 24 the next season.

Total money made in his career? The salary data is incomplete on Baseball-Reference, so we’ll estimate about $25 million, which is roughly $57.8 million in today’s money.

Contract today? Yount was chosen for this exercise because of his unique situation. He was brought up when he was 18 after just 64 games in Class-A. He was raw when he arrived, and his numbers reflected that, but there was no denying his athleticism and talent.

At the same time, there were no guarantees that he would ever hit better than the league average, so he wasn’t going to be paid like a star. Consider:

Elvis Andrus, through age-23 season: .275/.342/.353, 84 OPS+ Robin Yount, through age-23 season: .270/.308/.364, 89 OPS+

There were reasons to be more optimistic about Andrus, considering the patience, which is why he got an eight year, $118 million extension before he was that close to a free agency.

This is about Yount on the open market, though. Someone would have bit. Someone would have paid him like an All-Star because he was an above-average shortstop at the same age as the typical prospect, and they would have crossed their fingers.

Eight years, $150 million. He would have been the Jason Heyward of his time, with a floor that was high enough to help a team pay for the ceiling. Uh, Heyward crossed with Elvis Andrus. And a sprinkle of Edgar Renteria while you’re at it.

Would it have been worth it? Oh, baby. Even ignoring the value of the badass mustache — and I’m not sure why you would ignore that — Yount was instantly one of the best players in baseball for the next decade. He would have hit .303/.362/.484 over the life of that hypothetical deal (133 OPS+), which would have been swell for a first baseman. For a Gold Glove shortstop (and later center fielder), he was a monster.

The other good question is what he would have gotten with his second try at free agency, after an 11th-place MVP finish in his age-32 season. Probably over $100 million again. That contract probably wouldn’t have provided quite the same value, but there was an MVP season mixed in.

Alvin Davis

When would he have been a free agent? After 1989, when he was going to be 29.

What kind of season did he just finish? The best one of his career, as Davis hit .305/.424/.496, with 20 homers. His defense was on the Trumbo side of things, which would have hurt. But there weren’t a lot of red flags. He was generally healthy. He was remarkably consistent. He had one of baseball’s best eyes and approaches (101 walks to just 49 strikeouts in 611 plate appearances).

What could possibly go wrong?

Total money made in his career? $6.9 million, or about $13.3 million in today’s money.

Contract today? Take away some money for the defense. Davis was a late bloomer, too, so he wasn’t exactly a young free agent. But while he had a little less power than the typical first base star, his exceptional eye and bat control suggested that he would age like a fine wine.

Seven years, $140 million. It’ll always cost you if you want some walks and doubles, but Davis was roughly the Joey Votto of his era. Until he wasn’t.

Would it have been worth it? Davis had just one more good season left in him, finishing with a 129 OPS+ in 1990. He played in just 185 major league games in two seasons after that, completely losing the ability to play baseball at a high level after he turned 30.

If it was injuries that did Davis in, they must have been nagging injuries, as he played 145 games in his final season with the Mariners, which was the first down season of his career. He wasn’t offered arbitration, and he signed with the Angels, who were looking for Lee Stevens insurance. Davis was released in June, finishing up his season and career with the Kintetsu Buffaloes.

I’ve looked and looked, but I can’t find a definitive reason for his decline, possibly because there wasn’t a good explanation. He just ... stopped being good. Far younger than one would expect, at that. It’s possible that the big hypothetical contract would have given him more chances, and that he would have found the cure for what ailed him.

As is, Davis had one of the oddest careers of the ‘80s, and he deserved to rob an owner.

(An aside: I very much enjoyed this quote from Whitey Herzog in the Los Angeles Times after Davis signed with the Angels:)

"I've never seen Davis play, and you worry that his stats may have been inflated by the Seattle ballpark, but I've talked to a number of managers and other baseball people and they all say he's a professional hitter, the type hitter who gets the runner in from third base."

The moral of the story? Always be born in the future. Although the players of today won’t have a lot of good ways to spend their money in 20 years, when solar radiation is peeling back their skin and dried beans are a widely accepted form of currency, so maybe we shouldn’t feel too badly for them.

Just think of all the money they could have had, though. Just think of all those clams.