#like i read a whole book in one day (a doctor who one) Christmas 2020 bc my cell service was down

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

actually I don't think you guys understand. the last time I was genuinely absorbed with a book was probably Les Mis, which I listened to as an audiobook throughout half of 2020, and the last time it was an actual paper book would have been Legacy (KOTLC book 8) which came out the first Tuesday (Thursday??) of November 2019 and for which I disregarded every responsibility I had to speed read it in one day. I've had such a hard time reading the past couple years, like really just so distracted and fixated on other things that I've had to actually set timers to make myself sit down and read a goshdang book, and I'm just. gobsmacked. absolutely appalled that I picked up a book off a thrift store shelf just because I recognized the title, flipped to the first page out of sheer curiosity, and have now dedicated more time to reading in the past three days than I have in possibly the last entire year. it's not even the kind of thing I would usually pick out to read!! I'm not quite sure what to do with this tbh

[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor

https://ift.tt/2URb21b

As recently as September 2020 David Tennant topped a Radio Times poll of favourite Doctors. He beat Tom Baker in a 2006 Doctor Who Magazine poll, and was voted the best TV character of the 21st Century by the readers of Digital Spy. He was the Doctor during one of Doctor Who‘s critical and commercial peaks, bringing in consistently high ratings and a Christmas day audience of 13.31 million for ‘Voyage of the Damned’, and 12.27 million for his final episode, ‘The End of Time – Part Two’. He is the only other Doctor who challenges Tom Baker in terms of associated iconography, even being part of the Christmas idents on BBC One as his final episodes were broadcast. Put simply, the Tenth Doctor is ‘My Doctor’ for a huge swathe of people and David Tennant in a brown coat will be the image they think of when Doctor Who is mentioned.

In articles to accompany these fan polls, Tennant’s Doctor is described as ‘amiable’ in contrast to his predecessor Christopher Eccleston’s dark take on the character. Ten is ‘down-to-earth’, ‘romantic’, ‘sweeter’, ‘more light-hearted’ and the Doctor you’d most want to invite you on board the TARDIS. That’s interesting in some respects, because the Tenth Doctor is very much a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’s handsome, he’s charismatic, and travelling with him can be addictively fun, but he is also casually cruel, harshly dismissive, and lacking in self-awareness. His ego wants feeding, and once fed, can have destructive results.

That tension in the character isn’t due to bad writing or acting. Quite the contrary. Most Doctors have an element of unpleasantness to their behaviour. Ever since the First Doctor kidnapped Ian and Barbara, the character has been moving away from the entitled snob we met him as, but can never escape it completely.

Six and Twelve were both written to be especially abrasive, then soften as time went on (with Colin Baker having to do this through Big Finish audio plays rather than on telly). A significant difference between Twelve and Ten, though, is that Twelve questions himself more. Ten, to the very end, seems to believe his own hype.

The Tenth Doctor’s duality is apparent from his first full appearance in 2005’s ‘The Christmas Invasion’. Having quoted The Lion King and fearlessly ambled through the Sycorax ship in a dressing gown, he seems the picture of bonhomie, that lighter and amiable character shining through. Then he kills their leader. True, it was in self-defence, but it was lethal force that may not have been necessary. Then he immediately topples the British Prime Minister for a not dissimilar act of aggression. Immediately we see the Tenth Doctor’s potential for violence and moral grey areas. He’s still the same man who considered braining someone with a rock in ‘An Unearthly Child’. 

Teamed with Rose Tyler, a companion of similar status to Tennant’s Doctor, they blazed their way through time and space with a level of confidence that bordered on entitlement, and a love that manifested itself negatively on the people surrounding them. The most obvious example in Series 2 is ‘Tooth and Claw’, where Russell T. Davies has them react to horror and carnage in the manner of excited tourists who’ve just seen a celebrity. This aloof detachment results in Queen Victoria establishing the Torchwood institute that will eventually split them apart. We see their blinkers on again in ‘Rise of the Cybermen’, when they take Mickey for granted. Rose and the Doctor skip along the dividing line between romance and hubris.

Then, in a Christmassy romp where the Doctor is grieving the loss of Rose, he commits genocide and Donna Noble sucker punches him with ‘I think you need somebody to stop you’. Well-meaning as this statement is, the Doctor treats it as a reason to reduce his next companion to a function rather than a person. Martha Jones is there to stop the Doctor, as far as he’s concerned. She’s a rebound companion. Martha is in love with him, and though he respects her, she’s also something of a prop.

This is the series in which the Doctor becomes human in order to escape the Family of Blood (adapted from a book in which he becomes human in order to understand his companion’s grief, not realising anyone is after him), and is culpable for all the death that follows in his wake. Martha puts up with a position as a servant and with regular racist abuse on her travels with this man, before finally realising at the end of the series that she needs to get out of the relationship. For a rebound companion, Martha withstands a hell of a lot, mostly caused by the Doctor’s failings. 

Read more

TV

Why David Tennant Lost Hannibal Role According to Bryan Fuller

By Kirsten Howard

TV

Staged: BBC Comedy Confirms Sheen & Tennant’s Double-Act Greatness

By Louisa Mellor

Series 4 develops the Doctor further, putting the Tenth’s Doctor’s flaws in the foreground more clearly. Donna is now travelling with him, and simply calls him out on his behaviour more than Rose or Martha did. Nonetheless the Doctor ploughs on, and in ‘Midnight’ we see him reduced to desperate and ugly pleas about how clever he is when he’s put in a situation he can’t talk himself out of.

Rose has also become more Doctor-like while trapped in another reality, and brutally tells Donna that she’s going to have to die in order to return to the original timeline (just as the Doctor tells Donna she’s going to have to lose her memories of travelling with him in order to live her previous life, even as she clearly asks him not to – and how long did the Doctor know he would have to do this for? It’s not like he’s surprised when Donna starts glitching). Tied into this is the Doctor’s belief in his own legend. In ‘The Doctor’s Daughter’ he holds a gun to Cobb’s head, then withdraws it and asks that they start a society based on the morals of his actions. You know, like a well-adjusted person does.

What’s interesting here is that despite presenting himself as ‘a man who never would’, the Doctor is a man who absolutely would. We’ve seen him do it. Even the Tenth Doctor, so keen to live up to the absolute moral ideals he espouses, killed the Sycorax leader and the Krillitanes, drove the Cybermen to die of despair, brought the Family of Blood to a quiet village and then disposed of them personally. But Tennant doesn’t play this as a useful lie, he plays it as something the Doctor absolutely believes in that moment, that he is a man who would not kill even as his daughter lies dead. It’s why his picking up a gun in ‘The End of Time’ has such impact. And it makes some sense that the Tenth Doctor would reject violence following a predecessor who regenerated after refusing to commit another double-genocide.

In the series finale ‘Journey’s End‘, Davros accuses the Doctor of turning his friends into weapons. This is because the Doctor’s friends have used weapons against the Daleks who – and I can’t stress this enough – are about to kill everyone in the entire universe. Fighting back against them seems pretty rational. Also – and again I can’t stress this enough – the Daleks are bad. Like, really bad. You won’t believe just how mindbogglingly bad they are. The Doctor has tried to destroy them several times by this point. Here, there isn’t the complication of double-genocide, and instead the very real threat of absolutely everyone in the universe dying. This accusation, that the Doctor turns people into weapons, should absolutely not land.

And yet, with the Tenth Doctor, it does. This is a huge distinction between him and the First Doctor, who had to persuade pacifists to fight for him in ‘The Daleks’.

In ‘The Sontaran Strategem’ Martha compares the Doctor to fire. It’s so blunt it almost seems not worth saying, but it’s the perfect analogy (especially for a show where fire is a huge part of the very first story). Yes, fire shines in dark places, yes it can be a beacon, but despite it being very much fire’s entire deal, people can forget that it burns. And fire has that mythical connection of being stolen from the gods and brought to humanity. The Time Lord Victorious concept fits the Tenth Doctor so well. Of all the Doctors, he’s the most ready to believe in himself as a semi-mythic figure.

Even when regenerating there’s a balance between hero and legend: the Tenth Doctor does ultimately save Wilfred Mott, but only after pointing out passionately how big a sacrifice he’s making. And then he goes to get his reward by meeting all his friends, only to glare at them from a distance. His last words are ‘I don’t want to go’, which works well as clearly being a poignant moment for the actor as well, but in the context of Doctor Who as a whole it renders Ten anomalous: no one else went this unwillingly. And yet, in interviews Russell T. Davies said it was important to end the story with ‘the Doctor as people have loved him: funny, the bright spark, the hero, the enthusiast’.

It’s fascinating then, that this is the Doctor who has been taken to heart by so many viewers because there’s such an extreme contrast between his good-natured front, his stated beliefs, and his actions. He clearly loves Rose and Donna, but leaves them with a compromised version of happiness. They go on extraordinary journeys only to end up somewhere that leaves them less than who they want to be, with Russell T. Davies being more brutally honest than Steven Moffat, who nearly always goes the romance route. Davies once said to Mark Lawson that he liked writing happy endings ‘because in the real world they don’t exist’, but his endings tend towards the bittersweet: Mickey and Martha end up together but this feels like they’re leftovers from the Doctor and Rose’s relationship. The Tenth Doctor doesn’t, as Nine does, go with a smile, but holding back tears.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

It’s a testament to how well written the Tenth Doctor is that the character has this light and shade, and with David Tennant’s immense likeability he can appeal to a wider audience as a result. It’s not surprise he wins all these polls, but I can’t help but feel that if the Doctor arrived and invited me on board the TARDIS, I’d want it to be anyone but Ten.

The post Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3iaqbDk

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @littlelonghairedoutlaw​

This year, the Christmas Season begins on 28 November.

That is the day Erik meets Doctor MacAndréis from the Department of Modern Irish leaving Costa with a Terry’s chocolate orange latte in one hand, and a miniature Christmas tree in the other.

Erik considers it best not to ask any questions.

MacAndréis gives him that grin he wears with just a touch of mischief, and winks behind his glasses. Then he is gone, and if it was anyone else then Erik might almost think he was hallucinating. But MacAndréis is MacAndréis, and is merely an eccentric like himself, and so this encounter is the thing that encourages him to finally cave and order himself a black forest hot chocolate.

He’s been putting this day off for weeks, but if MacAndréis has acquired a tiny Christmas tree, then it’s time to concede to the season.

Clíodhna will be delighted to hear it.

(He suspects she has her letter to Santa half-written already.)

*

The day Erik sits down on the couch and pulls Clíodhna onto his lap to ask her what she wants from Santa, it is 30 November and Christine has only just gotten Andriú settled in for his nap. He has just turned eight months old, and is sleeping better than he was, but she will not have him disturbed for the evening, so when Clíodhna comes rushing up to her, “Mammy, Mammy! Daddy says I can write my Santy letter!” Christine shushes her little girl so she will not accidentally wake her brother.

“Can I, Mammy?” she whispers, and it’s a loud whisper but Christine doesn’t have the heart to shush her again. She looks to Erik, still sitting on the couch, as if he is not the one who has just caused their daughter’s rush of excitement, and finds him nodding vigorously, so she turns her attention back to Clíodhna, and nods.

“You can,” she whispers, and Clíodhna grins, her blue eyes bright and shining, before she throws her arms around Christine’s legs and hugs her.

And then there is paper, and pens, and a very enthusiastic five-year-old sitting in her lap and demanding for words to be spelled.

Erik kisses her forehead, before he goes to put the kettle on.

“I met MacAndréis with a Christmas tree,” he says, as if that is the most sensible explanation in the world.

*

“And are you going to ask Santa to bring something for Andriú?”

“A dinosaur!”

The effort not to laugh. “I think Andriú is a bit small for a dinosaur.”

*

There is, as far as Erik is concerned, nothing quite like the experience of hearing ‘Daidí na Nollag’ sung by a five-year-old as she winds silver tinsel around a miniature tree.

He is not saying it out of any sort of bias, but Clíodhna is an excellent little singer.

He adjusts his grip on Andriú, who has somehow fallen asleep against his chest, even with the singing, and shushes her slightly. “And where are the réaltaí?” he asks, and Clíodhna points to the sky. “Sa spéir!”

Christine is shopping, and it is his noble duty as babysitter to look after both the sproggle in his arms and the beanie sprout who insists she is “practicing for my play!” with her bouncing dark curls.

She is an angel this year, not Mary, but she is determined to sing every song as if she were the star of the show.

“What about ‘Silent Night’ next?” something quieter than another thrilling rendition of ‘Daidí na Nollag’.

She bobs her head, and finds a small star to set on top of the little tree.

“Siii-lent night…”

*

When Christine gets home she finds Erik asleep on the floor, Andriú asleep on his chest and Clíodhna tucked in asleep beneath his arm. The floor is littered with tinsel and baubles, and there are two small trees sitting decorated on the coffee table. Christine snaps a photo of her husband and their babies, and then stoops down and gently scoops Andriú out of his arms. Erik snuffles, his eyes flickering open. “Are you long back?” His voice is groggy.

She smiles. “Only just. Wake up a bit, and I’ll put the kettle boiling.”

Time enough, later, to smuggle in the surprise she has gotten him, hidden deep in the car.

It’s a present for both of them, and she can hardly wait for the day to arrive that she’ll give it to him.

*

It is 5 December when he meets Éilis ní Cuana for tea. Éilis is MacAndréis’ wife, as far as Erik knows, but at this point he’s a little embarrassed to ask. MacAndréis wears two wedding rings and refers in equal terms to his wife (Éilis) and his husband (Seán MacAlisdair), and while Erik is certain that the man cannot legally be married to both of them, he’s reasonably (about 95%) certain that it’s a polyamorous relationship, like what John Henry has with Kate and Morgan, and that’s good enough for him.

Erik meets Éilis, today, for two reasons. The first is that she’s writing a hybrid-play about Terence MacSwiney, and he has been working on a score for it since the summer. This has involved not only reading what she has written of the play, but also making several trips to Dublin to read MacSwiney’s letters (the man’s handwriting was devilish) and raiding Christine’s collection of books for Items of Interest. This increased familiarity with Christine’s collection of books is the second reason he is meeting Éilis – he has no idea what to get his wife for Christmas.

This is their sixteenth Christmas. He feels like he ran out of good gift ideas years ago.

Fortunately, Éilis is a librarian and an archivist. She is a woman who Knows Things, and if his theory is right about the relationship she has with MacAndréis and MacAlisdair, then so much the better. MacAlisdair is a medical historian, and while Christine is a political historian, that means Erik and Éilis have something in common. Namely, loving people who make whole fields of study out of areas that seem boring to most.

(He has never found Christine’s work boring, never mind half the time he can hardly keep up with her.)

Éilis unwraps a ginger biscuit. “What’s her topic at the minute?”

“Underground resistance against authoritative regimes in twentieth-century Europe.”

Éilis blinks slowly. “And I thought listening to the prevalence of chloroform addiction among nineteenth-century doctors was a fun time.”

Erik almost chokes on his tea.

*

“You could get him a replica chloroform bottle...”

“You could get her a necklace with No Pasarán…”

*

How Andriú sleeps through their laughter Erik will never know.

*

Meanwhile Christine is in Tower Records on O’Connell Street, trying to decide what to get Erik for Christmas. She has expert assistance in the form of Clíodhna, who is very adamant that what “daddy would want” is an album of Christmas songs in Irish. Christine suspects her wayward daughter picked it because it has ‘Daidí na Nollag’ on it.

Considering Christine herself is tempted to buy him a vinyl of old rebel songs to tease him about his new interest in Terence MacSwiney, she is not sure she can comment.

Besides, the Secret Surprise she has gotten him will do that well enough.

(A replica Irish Volunteers uniform, complete with slouch hat, and she has half a mind to give it to him on Christmas Eve, when Clíodhna and Andriú are tucked up in bed.)

(“For inspiration,” she will say, “while you’re composing,” and she will kiss his cheek and he will go off and change into it, and when he comes back her throat will be dry at the sight of him in those high boots, that coat, the hat tilted low over his eyes, and there will be a touch of mischief about him as he will ask, “Are you going to search me for weapons?”)

She’s fairly certain he has all the music he actually wants, so she’s not sure why she came in here except that she always likes to when she’s present-hunting. That, and she wanted to show Clíodhna around. Clíodhna has gotten very interested in music lately and Christine has half-decided to start her on tin whistle lessons in the New Year. Christine didn’t tell her where they were going, only that they were “shopping for Daddy”, and when Clíodhna realised they were in a shop full of vinyls and retro tapes and cds and posters, she was struck silent for the first few moments, her little hand holding on tight to Christine’s own.

“Is this a real shop?” she whispered, and Christine nodded and grinned down at her.

“It is. And it’s Daddy’s favourite shop.”

And Clíodhna shrieked so loudly it almost blew out Christine’s eardrum.

She is resigned, now, that she will not find Erik’s present here, but no matter. Clíodhna is delighted with the place, and that is enough for Christine.

“Do you want to get Daddy that album?” she asks, and Clíodhna nods.

“Yes!”

*

Clíodhna is sworn to secrecy about her “present for Daddy”, and also about the vinyl of Taylor Swift’s folklore that Christine decides on a whim to get him. And when they go to a toy shop, Clíodhna comes back with a small reindeer teddy.

“For Andriú!” she says, and Christine’s heart swells.

*

They have dinner that Sunday with Lilly, and afterwards Erik plays with Andriú on the floor, rolling a ball to him for him to roll back, before Andriú takes a fit of giggling and tries to crawl away. He’s gotten to be an active little thing, and the next time Erik rolls the ball to him he throws it at the couch. Christine snorts watching the two of them, but if Erik notices he doesn’t show it, doesn’t even look away from Andriú as he reaches behind him for a second ball. That one, too, gets flung at the couch, and Lilly is grinning while she spoons the Christmas cake mixture into a tin. Clíodhna is watching very intently, singing ‘Away in a Manger’ to herself, and when Lilly almost has the bowl empty, she hands both bowl and spoon to her. “Do you think you can clean the last of it out, Madame?”

“Yes, Nan!”

The mixture ends up on her hands and her sleeves and in her hair, but she’s laughing as she scrapes the spoon along the side of the bowl, and the smell of the cakes is warm in the air, settling in Christine’s chest.

Warm, and safe, and like every Christmas she can ever remember, the evening dark and the windows fogged up, the echo of her father playing his violin… And it’s been more than twenty-two years, but the smell of Christmas cakes always reminds her of him, and she wonders will it be something that Clíodhna remembers, in the far-distant future, an evening like this, and the warm aroma in the air…

*

This time Erik is the one leaving Costa when he meets MacAndréis, who has a sprig of holly behind his ear and a gold ribbon tied around his wrist. And the man must be in his mid-thirties, but he seems younger and younger every time Erik sees him and this time is no different. He earns himself one of those bright grins and, “the new recording sounds great”, and he’d stop to ask more about what MacAndréis thought of the latest piece for Éilis’ project, but he’s due to meet Nadir in his office to go over his will. The annual updating, and it helps to have a barrister for a best friend, who can tweak these things without any hassle.

Not that there’s much to change in it this time, because he updated it in the spring when Andriú was born, but he likes to be sure everything is just so. It’s a little bit of peace, to not have to worry about that. Nadir has scheduled him in for an hour, and it’s a chance to have a chat as much as anything. They’ve both been so busy lately, between Nadir’s cases and with his lecturing and this play, never mind the full-time job of being a father, and Nadir knows about that too with little Aisha, and this is as good an excuse as any to settle in and have a cup of tea with him.

It sounds ridiculous, but he’s been looking forward to updating his will for weeks.

Next time he’ll talk to MacAndréis. Next time.

*

Two days later the weather is what Christine calls “Jack the Ripper fog”, and when Clíodhna gets home from school it seems as good a time as any to put up the proper Christmas tree. It feels more like November than December, but it is definitely December, and Erik settles at the piano, playing softly, while Clíodhna sorts the baubles and Andriú naps upstairs. The baby monitor is turned up and sitting beside Erik on the piano bench, in case the baby wakes, but all is quiet from upstairs and Christine hums along with the melody while she fixes the lights into place on the higher branches.

Last year, they didn’t put any angel onto the top of the tree. She was six months along with Andriú, and Erik was still recovering from the emergency surgery on his aorta, and they both decided it was safer if neither of them stretched to the top of the tree. This year he could put the angel on himself, or lift Clíodhna up to do it, but even though he had a clear scan only a month ago it still feels like too much to risk, so Christine scoops up Clíodhna and lifts her, and her daughter is heavier than she looks, but she fixes the angel into place and Christine sets her down again before her arms buckle.

“You’re getting big,” she says, and Clíodhna beams.

*

They’re promised snow, but all they get is grey slush, and this time it is Erik’s turn to take Clíodhna present-hunting. He still has not decided what to get Christine for Christmas, but he takes Clíodhna with him into the bookshop, and watches as she makes a beeline for the first book she sees with a cow on it.

“This, Daddy?”

Christine? Reading a book about cows? He almost wants to see it, but he shakes his head. “Maybe we’ll get that one for Uncle Al.”

And Clíodhna needs no more encouragement to push the book into his hand. “Hold.”

“All right, my lady.”

*

They come away with a book of photos of notable sculptures, and he’s beginning to think he might need to experiment more with presents.

At least it’s not another collection of Tennyson.

(There’s also a cloth book with different fabrics and pages that make music, for Andriú, and Clíodhna is pleased with herself for finding it.)

*

By the eleventhh it still doesn’t feel like Christmas but things are distinctly more festive than they were. Nadir and John Henry between them hung a string of lights along the gutter so Erik wouldn’t have to climb the ladder, and with the Christmas tree set up (and the two little ones) and paper snowflakes that Clíodhna made in school, the house is at least decorated. Lilly has supplied them with a Christmas cake, and Erik’s mother Marina has promised them a Christmas pudding when she arrives closer to the day itself. Uncle Al has sent them a box of mince pies that a “good friend” of his made, and Erik suspects that his dear old uncle has found himself a boyfriend that he’s keeping under wraps. Erik would die of embarrassment if he suggested it to him, but he mentions it to John Henry who laughs and claps and says, “good on the old man”, and Erik knows Al will be bombarded with questions when he, too, arrives at Christmas.

They haven’t made it down to Sligo since the Halloween midterm, but Erik knows Clíodhna is excited to see her granny and granduncle and “grandad Bill” again.

(It will never not be wild for Erik to hear his stepfather called “grandad Bill.”)

*

It is when Christine is having coffee with Seán MacAlisdair that it occurs to her what might be nice to get Erik for Christmas.

She had questions for MacAlisdair about how bullet wounds might be treated by fugitives in the 1920s, and as he wrote out some suggestions of sources to check he mentioned offhand that he had gotten a pocket watch for “Ruairí”. It took her just a moment to remember that Ruairí is in fact MacAndréis, and by then MacAlisdair was telling her about the engraving he’d gotten put on the inside of the watch.

“I arise from dreams of thee,” he says, and smiles, “it’s his favourite Shelley poem.” And then he laughs. “I’d have had it translated into Irish for him but I was afraid it would lose its cadence.”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted with it.”

“I reckon he will. And there was a dealer selling original newspapers from October 1920, so I got them for Éilis…”

And she lets him talk, but all the times she’s wondering what sort of engraving she could get put on a pocket watch.

*

On the day that Erik and Christine head to Dublin to get gifts for Clíodhna and Andriú, the “Santa gifts”, John Henry and Kate are left in charge of the “two beans” as John Henry calls them. Morgan is delayed at a conference in London, but he’ll be home in a few days, and Erik intends to pick out a fancy bottle of wine for him.

In hindsight, perhaps it would have been better not to have left the shopping until the two weeks before the day itself, but it’s never felt right to Erik to start Christmas shopping in November and frankly he isn’t keen on how terribly capitalistic the whole holiday has become. He knows Christine feels the same, and that’s why they prefer to buy Irish-made from small businesses as opposed to anything else. There are only so many places around Maynooth, and to be fair they do have a few nice bits gathered up, and so the trip to Dublin is to put the finishing touches to the gift gathering, and to spend the day with each other, without a wriggling eight-and-a-half month old and an excitable five year old. And there are crowds of people but it’s quiet, walking down the street holding Christine’s hand, the faint touch of frost on his nose, her fingers warm threaded through his.

They stop for hot chocolate, with cream and cinnamon, and he kisses the taste of it off her lips as she smiles into his mouth, and it’s almost like they are students again, hardly knowing each other, only knowing that there was something there, something different than there had been before, and she smooths her fingers over the back of his hand and sighs.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice low, and she shrugs.

“Nothing in particular,” but still she’s smiling, and this time she presses the kiss to the bad half of his cheek, and he cannot feel it beneath the mask.

(The mask is warmer than the make-up, in cold weather like this.)

*

Clíodhna and Andriú are both asleep by the time they get home, tucked into bed, and John Henry is asleep too on the couch, a blanket thrown over him. It’s not all that late, but Kate is the one sitting up waiting for them, and she smiles when they finally walk in the door.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, and Erik nods.

“Very.”

*

(When Christine is out of earshot, he has half a mind to ask her what she got John Henry and Morgan for Christmas, but he is almost afraid of the answer.)

*

They set up a little Nativity scene near the tree, with the three wisemen and two shepherdesses (who Christine has named Meg and Jammes, and who she has decided are lesbians), and a whole collection of little sheep. There’s the traditional cow and donkey, and Joseph and Mary, and the little manger is left empty but when Clíodhna sees it her eyes widen.

“Can we put Andriú in the manger?”

Erik snorts. “I think he might be a bit big.”

(Andriú is mesmerised every time they turn on the Christmas lights, and could stare at them for hours. It’s bad for his eyes, so they only light it up sparingly.)

*

It’s the sixteenth by the time Erik finally sits down with MacAndréis in Costa. They have ridiculously expensive fajitas, and Erik goes for tea while MacAndréis has coffee. This time the man is dressed all in black which brings out how dark his eyes are, and if Erik were not happily married and very in love with Christine he might almost be attracted to MacAndréis, but as it is he can look at him and appreciate that he is a very fine looking man.

And it’s okay to say that, because Christine has said the same.

MacAndréis’ wedding rings shine bright on his left hand, and Erik might almost ask, but even now he hardly knows how to form the words. So instead he asks what he thinks of the music for Éilis’ project, and MacAndréis grins.

“That last one you did, ‘Bromyard’, for the wedding scene, I keep listening to it on repeat.”

Erik smiles. “I’m one of the pieces I’m happiest with so far.” I was thinking of my own wedding when I composed it, he thinks but does not say.

“It’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you, actually. She wants me to write a section as Gaeilge, and I was wondering if it would be a problem for you trying to score it. I’m not sure what your Irish is like and I don’t want to put you under pressure trying to get the meaning across. Like I could write out a translation for you if you want, to try and get the music right. It’s what she wants but that doesn’t mean we have to do it if it’s too awkward or anything…”

And it’s only then that Erik realises that MacAndréis is nervous. Nervous! Talking to him! This man who swans around the place as if nothing could touch him, giving off so much queer energy he could nearly put John Henry to shame, and he’s nervous!

It’s—it’s extraordinary.

“I—” Erik sips his tea and swallows. “Whichever would be handiest for you. If you want to write a translation then—then go ahead.” The thought! That anyone could be nervous of him.

He’s hardly that terrifying looking, even with the mask.

MacAndréis blinks, and grins. “Ah grand!” And laughs, “I know nothing about writing plays! Or music for that matter.” He nods at the cup in Erik’s hands. “Let me get you more tea.”

And like that, Erik knows he was daft to be worrying about his face.

(Old habits die hard.)

*

Christine collects the watch from the jewellers’ and it’s perfect. An ornate floral design on the outside, and when she opens it the engraving is inside the lid.

“Between the past and future tense”

16 Christmases

She closes it and tucks it into her pocket.

There’s a perfect place in the wardrobe to hide it.

*

They take Clíodhna to see Santa, and the whole way she tries to persuade them for Andriú to see him too. Erik has to tell her that Andriú is far too small, and she pouts a bit and grumbles.

“He’s always too small.” But then she brightens. “Can I ask for a present for him?”

Christine winks at Erik, then smiles down at her. “You absolutely can.”

* Clíodhna gets shy as they reach the head of the queue, and holds on tighter to Erik’s hand. It’s strange, with how excited she’s been, but Erik supposes it was bound to hit sometime. Christine is pushing the buggy and Andriú is asleep, wrapped up in his coat and blanket and hat, and Erik wonders if maybe that was why she was asking if Andriú could see Santa too, so she’d be less nervous.

He wants to scoop her up and hug her, his condition bedamned, but they’re through the door now into the grotto and Christine is right behind them with the buggy. Clíodhna’s hand slips from his and she rushes for Santa, who’s a black woman this year (they’ve explained to Clíodhna that Santa sends his helpers around to visit children for him and they’ll send the messages back to him because he’s too busy looking after the young reindeer), and all her shyness is forgotten when she starts chattering that she “wants a dinosaur and a cow and a baby reindeer and some books and a guitar and a surprise” and that she wants “a nice teddy for Andriú because Daddy keeps saying he’s too small for anything else.” Erik nearly chokes, and Christine is fighting a grin, and then there are two little packages pressed into Clíodhna’s hand, one for her and one for Andriú, and she is jumping off “Santa’s” knee, a wild ball of energy again.

He missed the photo being taken of her, the instant camera, but it is given to him then and of a sudden it strikes him what would be perfect to get for Christine.

She loves taking photos.

*

There’s a dress to buy and some fairy wings, for Clíodhna to make the best little angel. The dress is white and patterned with flowers, and while most of the girls will be going for plainer dresses, Clíódhna is insistent that this is “the best one, Mammy”. Erik grins at Christine and takes the buggy, telling her he’s just bringing Andriú for a walk, but she knows that look in his eye and knows there’s some sort of mischief afoot. No matter. It leaves her to focus on Clíodhna and her big pleading eyes.

“Okay, honey, we’ll get the dress.”

*

Luckily for Erik he knows exactly where to find a Polaroid camera. He cannot count how many times he has passed them on the stand in the pharmacy when he’s picking up his prescriptions. The Polaroid cameras, the instant film, and it is the work of minutes to pick out a nice small blue camera for Christine, and several boxes of film, both colour and black and white. Andriú is still asleep as he wheels the buggy up to the counter, and after he pays he secrets the boxes of film deep in the pockets of his coat. The camera itself he stashes in the pouch in the back of the buggy, and a mere seven minutes after leaving Christine picking through dresses his mission is accomplished.

(He does not know it yet, but the first photograph she will take will be of him on Christmas morning, wrapped in his dressing gown and wearing the hat from the uniform she will have given him, tilted at a rakish angle. His arms will be full of Andriú, shredding wrapping paper between his baby fingers, and he will not even know she has taken it, until he sees it, pinned to the fridge, and he will marvel at the fact that he looks almost handsome.)

(How she sees him, rendered in an image, perfect.)

He turns the buggy around, feeling inordinately pleased with himself, and wheels it back out in the shopping centre, with the good intention of going back to Christine and Clíodhna and seeing how they are getting on. The good intention, that is, until he wheels Andriú past the jewellers’, and out of the corner of his eye a shine of gold catches his attention.

He stops, and looks, and there it is. A gold necklace, with an ornate Celtic cross.

Christine absolutely deserves two presents for putting up with him.

*

“Are you going to search me for weapons?” he will ask, wearing the uniform for the first time, and she will get that gleam in her eye and he will know that she got him the uniform less as inspiration for him and more because she wanted to see him in it, and when her hand reaches into his pocket, she will pull out the necklace, and cock a brow at him.

“I think we need to search each other very thoroughly,” she will say, and grin.

*

When Erik returns to their side with Andriú and the buggy, Christine and Clíodhna are just leaving the shop. Erik’s grin is bright, and she knows he’s done something, but she knows him well enough by now to know it’s best not to ask him what that something might be. Instead she kisses his cheek, and takes back over the buggy, and listens as Clíodhna tells him all about the dress.

*

There is just a week, now, until Christmas. A week, and this week is taken up with all the last preparations. The winding up of the university semester, and Christine is still on leave so she doesn’t have to worry about that but Erik is busy organising his research students and the work they need to do over the break. Clíodhna’s upcoming play results in much singing of ‘Daidí na Nollag’ around the house, to the extent where Andriú is even gurgling along with it. Erik has completed the draft of another piece of music for Éilis’ play, and this one he calls ‘The Third Arrest’. And on top of all of this there’s the wrapping and planning that needs to be done.

Christine has designated herself the Santa Gift Wrapper this year, and her office is kept locked so Clíodhna will not find her in the middle of it. To entertain Clíodhna for a little while one evening, Erik sits her on his lap while he works in his office, and together they wrap the gifts they picked out for Christine and Andriú. He has both the camera and the necklace hidden away to do in his own time, but they do the books they bought them, and while he folds the wrapping paper into place, she cuts the tape with a safety scissors, and chatters happily in his ear.

“And what is this called in Irish?” he asks, to keep her on a flow.

“It’s a leabhar, Daddy.”

“Yes, that’s a book but what is it if it’s a present?”

“It’s a bronntanas!”

“Yes, okay, you get a sweet…”

And then he delegates her to carry the presents out to under the tree, where they will sit beside the ones Christine has already wrapped for him, and the ones that John Henry and Kate brought (and Morgan when he came home), and the ones from Nadir and Michelle and Lilly. A gathering of presents under the tree, and still the Santa ones to be added and the ones from his mother and Uncle Al and Bill. Every so often he catches Clíodhna sitting close beside the pile, as if staring at it long enough will reveal all its secrets to her, but she knows she must wait until Christmas Day before she is allowed to open anything.

What will it be like keeping Andriú out of trouble too, when he is old enough to have learned about these things?

Erik is not sure he wants to think about it yet.

*

It’s a damp day when Marina, Al, and Bill arrive from Sligo. They’ll be staying with Lilly – an idea that Marina and Lilly cooked up between them – and Christine will admit she’s a little relieved not to have to find space for them in the house.  She has not told Erik that, but she suspects he feels the same. For all that he’s delighted to see his mother and uncle and stepfather, he still hasn’t regained all the stamina he lost when he was so ill last year.

She prefers not to dwell on thoughts of it.

But there are hugs, and presents added beneath the tree, and the promised Christmas pudding, and Andriú is content to sit in Al’s lap and babble while Clíodhna does a “dress rehearsal” of the songs for her play.

There are five days, now, until Christmas, and tomorrow is the big day.

Clíodhna is so excited that it takes an hour of Marina telling her stories for her to fall asleep.

“She’s just like Erik at that age,” Al says, and Erik flushes to the tips of his ears.

*

And the next day Clíodhna makes an excellent angel, not that Erik is biased at all. He records the performance on his phone to remind her of it in years to come, and even with the round of applause at the end for all these little children, the highlight for Clíodhna is the bag of jellies she gets, and the fact that Christine lets her eat them then instead of saving them until Christmas Day like so much else.

Oh to be five years old and so easily entertained again!

Erik makes her hot chocolate as a treat, with cream and marshmallows, and tries not to laugh at how meticulous she is, scooping out each tiny marshmallow as it melts.

(A handful of hours later she falls asleep on the couch watching Shrek, and he watches as Christine turns off the television, and carefully picks her up, and carries her to bed.)

(These are the moments he will always remember.)

*

There is not even the promise of snow this year. Just rain and more rain, and two days before Christmas a storm comes so bad that the electricity is knocked out.

Andriú is crawling on the floor when it happens, and lets out a startled little yelp at the sudden darkness. Erik finds him with the light of his phone, and scoops him up, his little face damp with tears tucked in against his neck. And he shushes him, and whispers to him, and rocks him, and Clíodhna cuddles close, her eyes wide and worried, as they listen to the wind howling outside, and Christine rummaging for candles.

“Found them!”

They’re battery-operated for safety, and she carries them into the sitting room, and sets them up on the table, and in the soft glow they create Erik passes Andriú over to Christine, and pushes himself to his feet.

If they can’t have anything else in the darkness, they can at least have each other, and some music.

*

Clíodhna has wrapped herself in a blanket by the time he gets back, and he settles himself on the floor beside her, and lifts his violin out of its case. In the candlelight he checks it that it’s tuned, and Christine smiles at him, adjusting her grip on Andriú, as he takes the bow, and straightens himself.

For months he could not play it, while his chest healed from the surgery, and even now he finds the piano easier to manage, but on this night he will play for them, their own little carol service, and he is just a little rusty, but when he sets the bow to the strings, the notes come tripping back to him, familiar, and warm, and always ready.

Clíodhna tucks herself in against his side, and he closes his eyes, and lets the music come.

Tomorrow will be busy, in all the little ways that Christmas Eve is busy, but tonight they can have this.

*

(By the time the power is back, their babies are both asleep. Christine blinks her eyes open, and smiles at him, and her fingers are gentle, tucking a lock of hair back from his face.)

(He has half a mind to knock the power out every year.)

*

And then it is Christmas Eve, and Marina takes Clíodhna off their hands for a few hours, delighted to spend some time with her little granddaughter. While Christine preps the turkey to have it ready to go into the oven in the morning, and makes the breadcrumbs for the stuffing, Erik chops the vegetables, swaying slightly to the music playing off the radio. He puts them in water to preserve them, and peels the potatoes as Christine makes scones, and neither of them speak but neither of them need to, really, not then.

In the evening they take Clíodhna to Mass, and Erik is still not sure what he does or does not believe, but it doesn’t matter, not really, not when sitting there in the church with his little girl beside him he can close his eyes and feel the music around him, feel Christmases past and present and faded memories, and whatever about the symbolism of the season, whatever about the religion and the belief, maybe the thing that makes it important, the thing that gives it meaning, is the connection. The connection through time, through space, through the notes and the words and the readings, to all that is and has been and all that will be. A continuum or an ouroboros, endless, circling, moments and flashes and flickers like a web of spreading light, glowing through the darkness.

He feels it warm in his chest. The smell of pine and incense, the singing voices up in the gallery behind them, and how his lips shape the words to sing along…round yon virgin mother and child…Andriú smelling like powder, chubby in his red and green baby-gros, Clíodhna’s eyes bright as the sky, the red bow standing out in her black curls. What Christmases will she remember best, or will this be one of the first? A collection of little pieces tucked up in her head, and someday the smell of baking Christmas cakes might bring it back to her, the taste of marshmallows in hot chocolate, and he thinks of the little connections these things will make for her and wants to give her them all, to have them, and keep them safe.

He blinks his eyes open, a little damp, a little misted, and sees her watching the circle of Advent candles at the altar, and hopes that whatever she might one day believe, that she will always have these memories to look back on, and fill her with warmth.

Christine’s fingers are slender, threading between his, and he squeezes her hand.

The brush of her thumb is soft, and filled with promise.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Vickie Moseley

Vickie Moseley has 252 stories at Gossamer, some of which have also made their way to AO3. She has obviously contributed a ton to the fandom over the years! I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Giving Thanks, Stunned, and a bunch of post-eps for particular episodes, including “Firewalker” and “Pine Bluff Variant.” Big thanks to Vickie for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Not really. Well, actually, it has always surprised me that anyone would read my stories even during the heyday of the series, but that’s my self-consciousness talking. That people are discovering The X-Files is not at all surprising and that they are stumbling on fan fic is a natural extension and I find that wonderful. My husband and I never watched Grimm when it was on network TV and we’re currently going through that series, so it’s the streaming-on-demand-there-isn’t-anything-new-on-TV times we find ourselves.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Friendships. I have a group of women that I’ve been friends with for over 20 years. Until this year we gathered in person every year. We are in contact on Facebook messenger all the time and a conversation will start up just out of thin air when we haven’t conversed for months! It’s been wonderful knowing these women from all parts of the country (and the world for that matter).

And strangely enough, medical research. My writing tended to focus on ‘injured Mulder’ (or Mulder Torture as we termed it) and I also liked reading that in fan fic. Two years ago this managed to help me in real life. My husband experienced a bilateral pneumothorax (both lungs collapsed spontaneously). One of my favorite stories that I have read and reread is “Short of Breath” by the incomparable dee_ayy. She did some serious research while writing that story and it’s all in that fan fiction. I’m not saying it’s the same as a medical degree, but I knew what was happening, why the doctors where performing certain procedures and it really eased my mind as we went through the whole experience. I never would have known what was going on if I hadn’t read that story so many times.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Email was the ‘social media’ for the day. That, and newsfeeds. There were two newsfeeds in the beginning: the official FOX website had a message board, and there was one on ‘alt.tv’ which was an internet newsfeed where fans posted spoilers and discussed episodes. The alt.tv newsfeed got tired of the fan fic writers posting stories so a separate newsfeed was formed just for fan fic. EMXC, which was an AOL mailing list, was invite only and somewhat exclusive at first, but opened up to everyone. When the old OSU (Ohio State University) mailing list turned into Gossamer and Ephemeral, the fandom, and fan fic just skyrocketed.

But what you lived for the most, as a writer, was actual feedback. Emails from people all over who read your story. It was nice to get a quick ‘Hey, read this and really like it!’ but the wonderful emails, the ones you kept in folders on your inbox, were the ones that went into detail, sometimes critical, sometimes grammar related, but always showing where you could improve, or where you touched someone. Every friend I have from the fandom started as feedback, either to me or from me. I’m on AO3 and I appreciate ‘kudos’ but I really love getting comments.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Confidence in my writing. I learned a lot from other writers. Constructive feedback was a gift! I may never write the great American novel but I don’t think I’m afraid to give it a shot after all my years in fan fic.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

They had me at ‘aliens’. I’m a sucker for UFO shows. Was front row center at Close Encounters of the Third Kind, read many of the UFO standards, still watch Ancient Aliens on History Channel. I was waiting for The X-Files based on the tiny blurb in the 1993 Fall Preview Guide from TV Guide.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I kinda got fired from a job I loved and couldn’t go back into that arena for a long time. I was so depressed I was cleaning out my kitchen cabinets. My husband ‘gave’ me the internet for my birthday just to get me out of the dumps. I went straight to ‘yahoo’ and typed in X Files. After reading all the character bios I saw a ‘hyperlink’ (yes, that’s what we called them in 1995) to something called ‘fan fiction’. It was the OSU tree directory of about 100 fan fiction stories. I was instantly hooked.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I still love the show and all the fans I run across. I was not happy with S8 or S9 but I did watch The Truth. I was on Haven for a while during the reboots (S10 and S11) but it wasn’t the same. I’ve got all the seasons on DVD or blu ray and both movies. When I hear from fans, I’m so happy to connect but I don’t go out and look for new stories anymore.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

None. My heart belongs to Mulder ;)

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Captain Kirk, Spock, Captain Picard, Will Riker, Luke, Han, Leia, Poe, Rae, Kylo at the end. I like strong characters but it’s OK if they have flaws. I’d like to see more strong female leads in science fiction (Gammora and Nebula are favs of mine, too). I love Brea Larson’s portrayal of Captain Marvel!  

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Sure. When the Pandemic hit we started going through the series for maybe the 20th time. It’s nice to watch them on a larger TV screen. Kim Manners was a genius with lighting and showing just enough of the ‘monster’. I suspect he will be better appreciated in the future than he was at the time he was alive.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I still go back and read my favorites from XF. I read Blood Ties by Dawn about once a year, the whole series. I go back and read the Virtual Season X seasons. We had some really good stories in those years.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Too many to list! Dawn, of course. Susan Proto (I co-wrote with her), Sally Bahnsen, dee_ayy, Suzanne Bickerstaff’s Magician Series was the first (and only) fantasy I ever truly liked! I loved all my co-writers and there are plenty of writers that I wish we’d gotten around to collaborating.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I’m proud of Out of the Cold because it’s Mulder before Scully. I’m partial to the Flight Into Egypt series because I like ‘righting’ what I thought Carter got wrong in the end.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I keep trying! I’m working (have been working for almost a decade now) on a Flight Into Egypt story set at Christmas. Each fall I drag it out of mothballs, write a paragraph or two and get busy doing Christmas stuff. Funny, but it was easier to find time to write when I was a working mom of 6 than as a retired grandma of 3.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I’m putting together a cookbook for my kids and grandkids of all our family recipes. It’s not just the recipes, but the stories behind them. It’s a WIP (work in progress).

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I had a book, just a cheap paperback of unexplained events—all true stories, supposedly—that I got a lot of ideas from. Or, like Carter, I would see something in the news and it would turn into a story. One time I had a dream about our Pur water filter and it turned into a fan fic.

What's the story behind your pen name?

My older sister named me because my Mom and Dad let her. I never used a pen name. That’s my real name, you can google me and find out all about me. I used to have a wiki page or so my kids told me.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My kids used to tell their friends that ‘Mom is famous on the internet’ as a joke. Most of my friends know. My other life is in politics and the two lives usually don’t cross but once on a campaign I was asked by a reporter if I was the ‘same’ Vickie Moseley who writes fan fiction. If I had lied, that would have been the story—that I lied about this hobby of mine. Like it was something to be ashamed of or I was ashamed of my writing. So instead of ducking the question I said ‘yeah, have you read any of my stuff?’ Fan fiction was not mentioned in the finished article.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I’m on AO3 but only a partial list. My website is still up thanks to Mimic.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Back when I started writing (1995) it was a sort of commune. We all loved reading fan fiction, we didn’t want the story to end with the credits. So if you wanted to read, you were encouraged to write, too, so that others had stories to read and share. It was a cooperative arrangement very much like the old Literary Societies back in the 19th Century.  I really miss that, so I hope that on some level that is still going on.

(Posted by Lilydale on November 10, 2020)

[theroyalmile]

No Returns, No Exchanges

Disclaimer: I have debated for quite a while whether or not I should post this blog.  Social media is such a curated space for joy and happiness, it can feel oppressive at times.  There is so much life-changing positivity, from engagements to new jobs; and don’t get me wrong, that happiness is great to see.  But on the other hand, all of that positivity makes me feel like sharing any kind of negative information is attention-seeking and an immense overshare.  So let’s ask ourselves why I feel that way.  Why is happiness celebrated while the sad, sometimes harsh realities of life are thought to be oversharing?  More specifically, why do we feel like life-changing news can only be shared when it doesn’t make other people uncomfortable?  Our expressions of pain should not be regulated by the comfort levels of the people who surround us.  There comes a time when not sharing something begins to feel like hiding something, and hiding something turns to shame.  That is a feeling that I refuse to welcome into my life right now.  So here we go. 

It has been a while since I posted anything… a really long while.  It has been rare, these past few years, that I have even felt I had anything much to say let alone write anything, mostly because my life has been fairly normal, fairly unextraordinary, and I am rather blessed to be saying that during such a difficult time for so many. The few moments where I have felt like I had something to say have been fleeting, and after a good 2am word vomit on paper, I have filed these musings under “not to be seen by the light of day” which is probably for the best.

 Sometimes in the past I would find myself wishing I had something interesting going on in my life, something worthy of commentary… I don’t know, I was thinking like a cool hobby, an interesting skill, a kick-ass career, or a run in with Tom Hardy like I’d always dreamed of… something.  

 Well, to whoever is in charge, this is not what I meant, and I would like to request a refund. 

 Because as its final parting kick in the ass 2020 decided to gift me with breast cancer.  This isn’t a bad punch line, it’s just the truth.Let me give you a second to process that one.  I certainly needed a few.

 The thing is, a little itty bitty 3-centimeter tumor- that’s not something I can give back, as much as I might want to.  It’s not a too-large sweater you can return with a gift receipt, and it’s not a bad haircut you can complain about and get your money back (though it certainly will include one in a week or so!)

 A lot of you already know this story and frankly it’s not one I can tell with much finesse or humor, so I will keep it brief.  It was a dark and stormy 6pm when I found a lump in my breast in the shower back in November.  My initial thought was “you’re a crazy lady and a hypochondriac, let’s give it a few weeks since this is probably nothing.”   A few weeks, when my imaginary lump seemed to not actually be imaginary, I figured okay, it’s time to see my doctor, it’s probably nothing but we need to make sure.  I was in fact so unconcerned about it that I didn’t even see my regular doctor. I figured I just needed a medical professional to feel me up and let me know what to do next.  I didn’t even bother mentioning it to my parents. (For context of my laissez-faire, when I was 14 I found a lump in my breast that turned out, after little fanfare, to be a cyst which was unceremoniously drained on a cold metal table by a male doctor in a somewhat traumatizing but ultimately benign event.  That’s a longer story for later). 

 Cue a physical exam, confirming I was not crazy and there was a lump, but it was probably nothing; an utltrasound, confirming the lump was a shape that they did not like, but it was probably nothing; and an ultrasound guided biopsy, in which the probably nothing was sampled.  The week between Christmas and New Year’s was spent impatiently waiting for the news, increasingly feeling that my probably nothing was maybe, actually something.

 On December 28 around lunch time I received a phone call in the middle of the work day from the radiologist, who while very nice, was someone I had only met once while she shot a needle in and out of my boob.  She asked me how I was doing and then told me my test results were in.  “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news,” she said.

 And believe it or fucking not my immediate thought was “It’s not good news… it’s great news!” My brain supplied this as if on autopilot like some kind of 90s game show host, knowing fully well that I would not be so lucky because we are not living in a Brooklyn 99 episode.  It’s weird where your brain goes under duress.

 It was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I have ever had, wherein I found myself trying to reassure a complete stranger that I was okay and I’m pretty sure I even said, “it is what it is.”  I was told a breast surgeon and oncologist from my provider network would be in contact and the call ended. Ultimately, I was diagnosed with Stage 1B Triple Negative Invasive Ductal and Lobular Carcinoma.  No returns, no exchanges.

 I am two months into my diagnosis, and 1/8 of my way through chemotherapy, the first part of a three series treatment (to be followed by surgery and then likely radiation.)  This Friday, after my second chemotherapy treatment, I will begin to lose my hair.  Anyone who knows me at all knows that the hair loss will be a pill likely far harder for me to swallow than the chemo itself.  And while the look may have worked for Demi Moore in GI Jane, I do not have her bone structure, nor her body.  I anticipate I will look more like the yellow peanut M&M, which while obviously the best M&M of the bunch, I think we can all agree is not a cute look for me.

 I do not say this to be melodramatic, I just say this because I am cynical and pragmatic by nature: I am not particularly surprised that I have cancer.  And this is for several reasons, some of which probably deserve a longer blog later.  To put it simply, I have been surrounded by cancer, both by choice and by cruel fate and happenstance, my entire life. 

 Cruel Fate and Happenstance: Having several relatives who have gone through cancer, and a mother with a BRCA 1 genetic mutation (which I had a 50% chance of inheriting, and in fact did) I always figured it would eventually happen to me.  The odds this condition dealt me? “About 13% of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, 55%–72% of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 variant… will develop breast cancer by 70–80 years of age.”  That 55-72% is the kind of percentage you want winning the lottery, but the lottery this most certainly is not, and that much I understood. So, I always figured something like this would probably happen.  Did I think I would be 28? No. But I figure that just makes me an overachiever. 

 Choice: I volunteered at a cancer support non-profit from the time I was 12 to the time I was 22, and I wrote my college senior thesis in anthropology on women with ovarian cancer, the cancer that killed my aunt Lizzy when I was 4 years old.  I have likely read more books on cancer than your average newly diagnosed person, which I find to be both a blessing and a curse.  On one hand, I know some of what’s coming.  On the other hand, I know some of what’s coming.  Of course I don’t think any of these things gave me cancer but you might say I have been training for this my whole life.  I think this joke is far funnier than pretty much everyone I say it to except my immediate family, because the Tenney/Koss folk are very big on gallows humor, in which case this is hilarious.  Comedy is our family coping mechanism, and I am guilty of occasionally forgetting not everyone is wired like that.   

 So where are we right now? Taking it day by day.  Do I frequently find myself wallowing in self-pity these days? Sure.  But all the same I feel truly lucky.  This is a feeling I am trying to hold on to, because I think the other options might be truly unbearable.  Why? Well, I found this tumor.  I’m 28-years-old, which means I am hardly old enough for a regular mammogram and MRI.  My last yearly physical was a TeleHealth appointment (hence no actual physical) and I will be honest, I never made a habit of regularly checking myself like I should have.  But this tumor just presented itself casually during a shower.  Breast cancer, when caught early, is highly treatable and curable, and I am fairly confident, knock on wood, that is where this particular nightmare is headed.  The fact that it was caught early: pure luck. 

Another reason I feel lucky is for the most part, I feel like I actually have the stability to handle the oncoming struggle.  I have a large and wonderful support system, an incredible and supportive partner, a savings account with actual savings in it, and a job where I am cared about as a human.  If this had happened to me three years ago, almost none of these things would be true.  There will never be a good time to have cancer, but some times are apparently better than others.  Of course, the ongoing pandemic means I can’t have people go with me to chemo, or my wig fitting, or my surgery consultations, and alone a lot of this seems much more daunting and difficult than it might otherwise have been, but I am trying to make a habit of counting my blessings, and despite this terrible thing I’ve been given, my blessings are many.

 There isn’t a “right way” to have cancer, but I think there might be a “right way” for me.  I am a private person and I find sharing some of these details difficult and more than a little uncomfortable, but I am also intimately familiar with the healing nature of writing and comedy, so I am going to give it a shot.  

 And now that I think of it… the peanut M&M is going to make a really great Halloween costume. 

[neighbourskid]

2020

What a year, huh? Surely not anything anyone has expected to happen when we woke up on this day a year ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m not even sure, now, where to begin to sum up this year like I’ve done years prior. But then again... I may just as well just dive right into all the media I consumed this year, as I have done every year. I haven’t kept track as detailed as I have last year, but my year was definitely punctuated by pieces of entertainment that have come into my life.

Continuing on from 2019, my obsession with Good Omens was still going strong. Which was ideal, since I was gonna spend the first half of the year writing my Bachelor thesis on it. The intensity of the obsession may have waned a bit since, but I still love that show and book dearly and hold it close to my heart, and I don’t think that will ever stop. But while Good Omens was certainly an overall theme throughout my year, there were some other things that actually stood out.

With January came new episodes of Doctor Who, and having returned to that particular bandwagon the year prior, I was all about that. Jodie’s second season finally brought what I had longed for in her first--a darker kind of Doctor. She wasn’t quite as bubbly anymore, you could finally see some of the depths in the character that I loved so in the previous regenerations, which made me love Peter’s Doctor so incredibly much. In this season, I felt, Jodie was finally becoming the Doctor. Overall, that season catered to me personally every single episode. So many of the time periods they visited were of people I loved, and the introduction of Sacha Dhawan as the Master was absolutely....well, masterful. Sacha is brilliant in that role and I am utterly stunned by his talent. Although both John Simm and Michelle Gomez brought things to the Master that I liked, it’s Sacha’s completely unhinged take on it that made me finally like the character. He’s a madman and I love it.

The next major thing was The Good Place. I tend to have a talent of getting into shows just as they either ended their entire show, or the final season is just coming up. It’s happened quite a bit, and it was the same with this. I finally binged the show early in January and it would end its final season at the end of the month. True to form, I was completely obsessed with it for about a month, before I only occasionally thought about it again. But, thinking back now, I get this incredibly fond feeling for this show, and I remember that the finale absolutely wrecked me and I basically ugly sobbed through the entirety of it. Also very true to form, actually. I want to rewatch it again some time, but honestly preferably with someone who has never seen it before. Which, obviously, is a difficult thing to do given, well, everything.

Next up is something that surprised me a lot. In the middle of having to write my BA thesis, my procrastination thought it would be a great idea to rewatch and catch up on the entirety of Criminal Minds. And so I binged 15 seasons of that instead of writing my thesis. Which, coincidentally, had also just aired its final season not long before I started my binge in March. Rewatching this, I realised just how little I took in of the actual, like, stuff in the show when I first watched it as a teen. Although I mostly cared about the characters and their found family this time around--although I do find the cases really fascinating most of the time too--I noticed just how much I am not watching this for the fact that they are in the FBI. I was hyperaware of how often they shot at people before doing anything else, how many of the suspects died before ever being questioned or being brought in, and it made my skin crawl. I am aware how fucked up the criminal justice system is, and especially in the US, how the police functions and how incredibly glorified they are in the media. But rewatching this show, I realised how little I actually paid attention to anything when I was younger. Big yikes. Still, I remembered my love for these characters, and I really enjoyed that rewatch a whole lot. Found family will always get to me.

Once I finished writing my thesis and handed it in early in July, I then found my next momentary obsession: Community. The show had finally come to Netflix earlier in the year and a friend of mine had watched it then. I remember watching that pilot episode back then and being completely uninterested in watching it. The comedy felt like it wasn’t quite up my street, the characters were entirely unlikeable, and I especially disliked Jeff who the show was more or less centred around. I binged Criminal Minds instead, but then decided to give it another try. And, well, I watched it twice through without taking a break to watch something else in-between. Ironically, and maybe actually unsurprisingly, Jeff ended up being my favourite and I found myself relating a lot to him and his arc throughout the series. I even found myself writing some short ficlet-like things in the notes app on my phone. I made an attempt at starting a third watch, but I guess then the month was up, and my brain decided it was time for something else. My hyperfixations usually tend to die out after about a month. Which is why my complete devotion to Good Omens was a pleasant surprise. I did, however, end up watching quite a bit of Joel McHale and Ken Jeong’s The Darkest Timeline podcast throughout August. 

Early in September, while already preparing for the new term at uni, and my first semester in my Master’s studies, I then turned to New Girl. Friends of mine had seen it and recommended it, and I remember watching probably the entire first season on TV while I was in San Diego the first time around back in 2016. Or at least I think it was the entire first season. Either way, I binged that whole thing, realised through Nick Miller that the go-to character I am drawn to and tend to project on in any piece of media is usually what I like to call “the garbage man,” which Nick is a prime example of. And although I spent a month watching the show in-between starting university again and volunteering at a film festival, I didn’t spend much time afterward thinking about it and moved on to other things rather quickly. I enjoyed watching it, that much I remember, and I’m pretty sure I cried at the finale because it was done wonderfully, but seeing as another month was up, my brain was probably like “okay fine that’s enough”.

I then spent most of fall and early winter watching every single bad Christmas movie available on Netflix, which was quite fun. In that moment of festivity, I also watched a movie I found absolutely brilliant and fell in love with immediately. It’s a beautiful movie called Jingle Jangle, it has a magnificent soundtrack and is absolutely incredible. I had no idea Forest Whitaker could sing and he completely blew me away. If you haven’t seen it already, I highly recommend it. It doesn’t matter that Christmas is already over, it’s beautiful either way.

By the time December finally rolled around, I was already over the whole Christmas thing, to be honest and I turned away from festive movies or shows, and eventually ended up finally picking up a gem I had heard much about and had been meaning to watch for a while. A show which, as it were, also aired its final season earlier this year. This little show is Schitt’s Creek. I will be going on about what this show means to me probably in another post at length, but for now just let me say: if you haven’t seen it, find some place to watch it, and put this beautiful show in your eyeballs. I am on my second run through already (although I’ve seen the second half of the show a second time already while watching it with a friend on their first run through), and it brings me so much fucking joy. It’s a gift, this show. And it will likely stay with me for a very, very long time.

That’s about it for the big things. I also watched a whole lot of other stuff, including entirely new things, or just newly released seasons of things I was already watching. Here’s what I can remember off the top of my head:

Charlie’s Angels (2020). The Night Manager. The Witcher. Dolittle (2020). The Librarians (rewatch). Harley Quinn (2020). Sonic the Hedgehog (2020). The Chef Show (S1 part 3, S2 part 1). Avenue 5. Money Heist (part 4). The Good Fight (S4). Brooklyn Nine-Nine (S7). DuckTales (2017 reboot). Frankenstein live. Staged (2020). Hamilton. Sense8. Julie and the Phantoms. The Boys in the Band. One Night in Miami. Enola Holmes. Supernova. His Dark Materials (S2). Happiest Season. The Great Canadian Baking Show.

I also got some reading done in-between what I had to read for my thesis in spring, and then for regular university courses in fall. Here’s some of what I can remember:

Anthony Horowitz, The House of Silk. Ramona Meisel, Sunblind. Donna Tartt, The Secret History. Good Omens novel and script book. Matt Forbeck, Leverage: The Con Job. Keith R.A. Decandido, Leverage: The Zoo Job. Greg Cox, Leverage: The Bestseller Job. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Lost Lamp. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Mother Goose Chase. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Pot of Gold. Neil Gaiman, Marvel 1602. Christina Henry, The Lost Boy. Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology. John Green, An Abundance of Katherines. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh. Maria Konnikova, The Confidence Game. 

Having mulled over all this entertainment I consumed in 2020, there are also some non-tv or book things I need to point out. As many, many other people around the globe, I have also spent a large amount of time this year on my Nintendo Switch, playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons. It is a game I have waited for since the Switch was first announced, and I fell in love with it from the moment the first trailer dropped. It has brought me great joy in this weird fucking year, and I have more or less consistently played it since it came out in March. I ended this year with the in-game New Year’s Eve celebration and I feel like that summed up this year quite neatly and appropriately.

This year also brought with it another game very close to my heart: Super Mario Sunshine. With their release of Super Mario 3D All-Stars in September, Nintendo finally brought my all-time favourite Mario game to my all-time favourite console, and I played the entire game through in the first week of owning it, in-between university courses and volunteering at the film festival. Also contained in that package was Super Mario Galaxy which I have also played through in its entirety since. All that’s left for me now is Super Mario 64, which I am excited to play through in the coming year.

And to round off my year of entertainment, there are two more things I would like to mention. First, David Tennant Does A Podcast With..., which released its second season this summer. It is one of the only, if not the only podcast I keep up to date with and listen to immediately whenever a new episode drops. I’ve loved the first season dearly, and David came back with some incredibly fantastic guests for the second season as well. I can’t wait for what the podcast will bring in the future, but I will wait patiently until it is time. I can highly recommend it for everyone who likes interesting conversations between lovely people who clearly adore each other a whole lot.

And finally, while this year brought a whole lot of bullshit with it, it also gave me something I never thought possible and did not even dare to imagine in my wildest dreams. My all-time favourite show announced that it would be rebooted with the same main cast (minus one), a new wonderful member, and involvement of the original creators, and even started filming already in summer. Leverage is coming back. I still cannot believe it. I hoped for a movie, always. That maybe one day, they might bring the gang back together, for one last job, just one more encore. But to get a whole new tv-show with Aldis, Christian, Gina and Beth returning? With the addition of Noah Wyle? I can’t wrap my head around it. I am so excited for this. I predict that I will ugly sob through the entirety of the pilot episode, if not the first season, and will have to rewatch every episode because of it, but I have no doubt that it will be brilliant and wonderful.

True to form, I have now gone on about tv shows and movies for far too long, and haven’t really said anything about this year at all. 2020 was fucking weird. And I don’t think 2021 will be much different quite yet. I wrote an entire BA thesis in 2020. I successfully finished by Bachelor’s degree and started my Master’s studies and even got some excellent first grades in as well. I was lucky enough to be able to see some friends and family throughout the year, and even celebrate my birthday with a small circle of friends. I’ve become closer with friends, shared experiences I wouldn’t trade for the world, and, I think, maybe also grown a bit as a person.

I started this year excited to finally be able to start taking testosterone in February, and to finish the first part of my studies by summer. Although I did both of these things, they didn’t happen quite how I imagined them, but I am glad that I could do these things nevertheless.

2020 was a hell year, for sure. But there were some moments in there that I wouldn’t want to lose.

I’ve tried very hard to not be optimistic about this upcoming year, and rather take a more realistic, even pessimistic approach. But I can’t help but be hopeful. Hopeful that this year will be kind to us, and if it isn’t, that at least, we’ll be kind to ourselves and each other. It won’t be easy, and not much will change, I think. But we have to approach the coming time with kindness and compassion. That’s where I’m at currently. And I think that’s all for now.

Be well, friends, and take care.

[ft-dads-au]

Part of the Family

A collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

Fairy Friendship Week 2020 Prompt: Secrets Pairing(s): Sting & Gray, Gray & Rogue, Sting x Rogue

AO3 | FF.Net

Summary: With Rogue's and Aki's birthdays coming up, Mika suggests that Sting and Gray go gift shopping together. Neither of them are excited about the idea, but it ends up being just the thing to bring them all closer together.

September 9, 2020

“That’s a great idea!”

The words burst out of Sting’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

It wasn’t a great idea.

In fact, it was one of the worst ideas Sting had ever heard. He was exhausted, having just got off what was supposed to have been a twelve-hour shift in the Emergency Room that had turned out to be more like fifteen, on top of not having gotten much sleep because the twins had been fussy all night.

He smiled at his mother-in-law warmly while scrambling for any excuse he thought she might accept that would get him out of a trip to the mall with his brother-in-law, who looked about as enthused with the idea as he felt.

“Wonderful!” Mika Fullbuster practically beamed at them, “I’ll feed the boys and get dinner ready for us while you’re gone.”

She picked up his son, Kuro, and cooed at him before placing him in a high chair next to his identical twin Haku. Gray’s son, Aki, watched with interest, although he kept close to his father.

Sting knew he was screwed when Gray remained silent, examining him with that glacial expression of his. “Okay, I’ll take a quick shower then. Be back in 10.”

He could hear Mika and Gray talking in low voices, Mika reminding her son that Rogue would probably like it if he got to know Sting a little bit better.

More than anything else, it was those words that motivated Sting to get in the shower and put on his best face because he knew she was right. Rogue loved his brother, had missed him all those years they had been on the outs, and now that Gray and his parents were a part of his life again, he wanted them all to become the family he never thought he’d have.

But Gray wasn’t exactly easy to get along with, and Sting was still irritated about how he had treated Natsu on the night of Lisanna’s birthday, not to mention how he’d dismissed Rogue all those years. Still, for Rogue, he could make an effort. The cold shower didn’t wake him up as much as he’d hoped, but he knew he wouldn’t have gotten out as quickly if he’d taken a warm one. Now he wasn’t just exhausted but also freezing cold and nervous, a far cry from what he’d been looking forward to when his shift was finally over. He passed the bed on his way from the bathroom to the closet and almost sobbed at how badly he wanted to get in it. “Come on Sting, you can do this!” he encouraged himself as he grabbed something comfy to wear and got dressed. “Go to the mall, get some birthday presents, have a chat with your brother-in-law...Can’t be too hard, right?”

It was incredibly hard.

Gray hadn’t said a word since the moment they’d left the house, and Sting had no idea what to say to get a conversation going. Almost everything he knew about the guy was off-limits to talk about, so they walked around the mall quietly, occasionally entering a store that looked interesting.

“Do you think Aki would like this?” Sting grabbed a colorful book thinking it would make a good birthday present for his nephew. He pushed some of the buttons on the front to see what kinds of sounds it made.

Gray shook his head, “He doesn’t like loud noises.”

“I wish I could say the same about the twins,” Sting groaned, placing the book back on the shelf, “just about every toy they have is loud.”

“Cana?” Gray asked, mouth stretching into a small smile.

“Well, she’s not the worst offender. That would have to be my parents,” Sting chuckled, “They’ve wanted grandkids since probably before I was born.”

Gray studied him briefly before turning his attention back to the shelf full of electronic board books. He moved away from them as he discovered the hardcover storybooks.

“He does like books though, tries to memorize them and pretend he’s reading them,” Gray added with a proud smile, “He could probably use some new ones.”

Sting thought Gray had a nice smile, it reminded him of Rogue’s. It was the first time he’d seen a real resemblance between the two brothers, outside of the dry wit they shared, and it made him warm up to him a little.

"Yeah, Rogue mentioned that.” He considered his next words for a moment, ultimately deciding he trusted Gray to be the kind of person who could keep a secret. “He’s uhm...taking a break from the stuff he usually writes to work on a book of fairy tales for kids. One of his college friends is doing the illustrations.”

“He’s writing a children’s book?” Gray asked, his voice sounding softer than Sting had ever heard it outside of speaking to Aki. He appeared stunned by the news but also something else.

Was it pride?

Sting thought it might be. The twinkle in his brother-in-law’s eye made him believe he was right.

“I kind of figured he’d write one of those mystery novels he always loved so much.” “Oh, he did. Published it under a pseudo a few years back,” Sting beamed, the swell of pride overtaking his fatigue for a brief moment. “Don’t tell anyone about the children’s book, though. He wants to keep it a secret because...well, you know your mom. Just act real surprised when Aki gets it for Christmas.”

They checked out some of the books together, flipping through the pages to see if the stories were fitting for Aki's age and whether or not they would appeal to him. Soon they'd decided on a few and headed to the register.

Sting grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, staring at its contents blankly for a moment. He took a card out and waited for the cashier to finish ringing up his purchases so he could place it in the reader. Trying to hide a big yawn he couldn’t quite contain, Sting inserted the card into the bottom slot when the reader prompted him. He waited to plug in his pin, thinking about how happy he was that they had managed to get one of the presents out of the way fairly quickly.

The card reader beeped at him, a message reading Card Declined displaying on the screen, much to Sting’s confusion. There should be plenty of money in there, he’d just gotten paid. But even knowing that, he could feel his cheeks darken with embarrassment as he saw the cashier glance at him surreptitiously.

He turned to see Gray’s eyebrow arched in silent question.

“I don’t understand,” Sting protested, “I’m sure there’s more than enough in there.”

“Are you sure about that?” Gray asked, looking somewhat exasperated.

“Yeah, I got paid yesterday,” he insisted. “I’ll just rerun it. Sometimes these things are flaky.”

“I don’t think it’s the reader that’s flaky,” Gray muttered under his breath.

“Let me just see it for a moment,” the cashier offered graciously, “Sometimes, you just have to wipe the chip a bit.”

Sting shrugged, handing the card over. There was something about it that seemed off, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“I think I see the problem,” the cashier said, and although his face remained serious, Sting could hear traces of laughter in his voice. “We do not currently accept Magnolia Hospital ID Cards as a valid form of currency.”

“What?” Sting could only gape in confusion as the cashier handed him back his ID Card.

“Long day?” Gray smirked, taking Sting’s wallet from his hand and grabbing his debit card, finishing up the transaction for him.

“You have no idea,” Sting muttered, finally entering his pin into the keypad and waiting for Gray to complete his purchase, pretending not to see that his brother-in-law was still laughing at him.

“Come on,” Gray said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“Coffee.”

He led them to the nearest coffee shop, where they each ordered a drink and a snack. Spotting an empty table, they quickly sat down.

“You know, if you were this tired, you could have just said no,” Gray sighed, shaking his head at him. “Mom isn’t that scary.”

Sting looked up, and having already shoved his chocolate chip muffin in his mouth, he shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Oy, take bites!” Gray griped, snorting at the crumbly mess he was making on the table, “I bet Rogue loves that.”

Sting laughed, easily picturing the look of distaste he’d receive from his husband if he’d been present. “He knew what he was getting into. Was he always so neat and tidy as a kid too?” he asked, eager to learn some things about Rogue from before they’d met each other.

“Kind of, not as bad as he seems to be now, though,” Gray mused, “He was always serious, with a very sharp tongue, but he could be a lot of fun too.”

He stared off into space and suddenly broke out in laughter, so hard that Sting began to worry for him. It stopped as soon as it started, but the amusement continued to play on his features. “I bet there’s one thing you don’t know about him, though.”

Sting leaned forward in his seat, eyes suddenly flying right open as he was dying for him to continue.

Gray’s whole face lit up with mischief, “Did you know that right up until the moment he was born, Rogue’s middle name was Ashley?“

“Ashley?” Sting repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Yep,” Gray grinned, “Mom’s doctor insisted Rogue was a girl, something about the way she was carrying or whatever, and the ultrasound confirmed it, so we all thought he was a girl. For months my mom told me all about the new little sister I was going to have. She had Dad paint the nursery pink, coordinated all the crib sheets, bought the clothes, everything.”

“You can imagine my parents’ surprise when he was born. Everything they had was for a girl. You should ask my mom to show you his hospital pictures. They’re hilarious! My dad and I have never let him live it down,” Gray chuckled, “I still call him Ashley when I want to piss him off.”

At first, Sting was just boggled by the fact that a doctor would predict a baby's gender from the way the mother was carrying, and how, even back in the early ’90s, an ultrasound managed to support that statement. But when he imagined what those pictures would look like, not to mention Rogue’s face when he’d ask his mother-in-law about them later- which he totally would- he almost choked on his muffin from his laughter. “I should buy him some extra gifts,” he giggled, “I have a feeling I’ll need them to get in his good graces again later.”

“He had a figure skating phase too,” Gray continued, “I was a hockey nut, so I loved to tease him about it, but the truth was he was terrific. Very graceful. I was kind of surprised to see he got rid of the ice rink in the backyard. Maybe now that we’re all back, we can set it back up,” he added.

"I knew about the figure skating. He made sure to show off the first time we went skating together because I ran my big mouth but completely sucked at it."

“Well, he does love to show off.”

“I’m glad you two made up,” Sting confided, getting carried away by the moment they were sharing. “He really missed you.”

He realized too late that it had been the wrong thing to say as Gray only nodded and then went right back to being quiet, but Sting didn’t let that bother him. He’d seen a different side of his brother-in-law, and he was confident that with time they could become good friends.

They finished their coffee and shopped for birthday presents for Rogue for another hour before calling it a night. Gray drove them back to the house to let Sting rest. When they arrived, Mika had already finished cooking, and the boys were playing quietly in front of the TV.

"Wow, looks like you had a successful trip!" Mika smiled happily at the shopping bags they were carrying, "and you're right on time for dinner!"

Sting was happy to see Rogue had gotten home as well, and even more delighted when he stopped setting the table to greet him with a hug and a kiss.

"You look really tired," Rogue fretted, frowning at the mark left on Sting's cheek by the zipper of his coat when he'd fallen asleep in the car. "Go sit. I’ll plate up for you."

"You're the best-" Sting flopped down on one of the dining room chairs, watching fondly as Rogue started scooping rice onto his plate. It was a small effort, but he thought it was really sweet, and it almost made him think twice about his next words.

Almost.

"Thanks, Ashley."

Between Gray's loud snort, Mika's knowing grin, and the look of horror that started to spread across Rogue’s face, Sting could honestly say that the unexpected shopping trip, exhausting as it was, had definitely been worth it.

"You just had to tell him, didn't you?" Rogue fumed at Gray, only managing to contain his outrage for the sake of the kids.

“He’s family now, isn’t he?” Gray’s attempt to sound innocent only riled Rogue up further. “Relax, Squirt, there’s lots of stuff I didn’t tell him. Like the time you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Rogue seethed, much to everyone’s amusement, but when he looked around the room, he suddenly became skittish. "Wait…where did mom go?"

"Right here," Mika answered as she appeared from the hallway, carrying a large photo album and an even larger smile on her face. She sat down next to Sting, who knew exactly what was going to happen, as his own mother had put him through a similar skit once.

"Let's see-" she pulled a curious Aki onto her lap, completely ignoring the protests of both her sons as she started flipping through the pages.

"Look how cute your daddy used to be when he was little," she told Aki, pointing at some of the pictures of Gray when he was the same age. "He looked just like you, but he always managed to take off his clothes wherever we went."

Sting tried but failed not to laugh as he saw her finger pointing at a picture of a much younger looking Silver holding what appeared to be a bunch of children's clothes as he chased an almost naked Gray across the playground. “Dada,” Aki bubbled at the picture and the others on that page.

Meanwhile, Rogue had finished piling food onto Sting’s plate and went to put the twins back into their high chairs before they’d start protesting the fact that everyone else had left them to gather at the dining table. He finished just in time to see Mika turn the page, much to Gray’s relief and amusement, because the next set of pictures were made at the hospital. Rogue could only groan as Sting went off in what could only be described as a laughing fit at the sight of his first baby pictures, in which he was dressed in pink from socks to bonnet.

“See Gray’s face? He was actually a little disappointed when we told him he didn’t get a sister after all, “ Mika chuckled. “He was so proud of the pink frog plushie he’d picked out as a welcoming gift, and he was worried his brother wouldn’t like it.” “The opposite was true, though,” she continued, smiling at Rogue as she continued to spill more embarrassing moments from his childhood. “You had it with you all the time. The one time you lost it, you wouldn’t stop crying and refused to leave the park without it. Dad searched for half an hour in the pouring rain before he finally found it.” “He still has it,” Sting revealed, returning Rogue’s pout of betrayal with an innocent smile. “It’s sitting on a shelf in our bedroom.” “Gee, when I saw how exhausted you looked, I didn’t think I was getting screwed today. Guess I was wrong.” “Rogue!” Mika was quick to scold her son. “What? It was kid-proof.”

Gray cackled in appreciation at Rogue’s snide remark, his grin withering when his mother flashed him a disapproving glare. He coughed uncomfortably and shifted his attention back to his brother, “You still have it? I thought you’d said you lost it.”

“Don’t get full of yourself,” Rogue crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked away. “I happened to find it when I was cleaning out the basement a while back.”

Sting knew that was some high-level bs, but he let it go, enjoying the back and forth between the two brothers. Judging from the pleased expression on Mika’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

“Suuuure you did,” Gray teased, marching towards their bedroom with an air of purpose, “I’m gonna go see it.”

“Don’t you dare put your grubby hands on Frosch!” Rogue yelled, chasing after him.

“You named it Frosch?” Sting snickered, although he had to admit it sounded incredibly cute.

“Shut up!” Rogue complained, “I was little.”

“Boys!” Mika scolded, turning to Sting to explain. “Gray ended up loving Frosch just as much as Rogue. He’d sneak into Rogue’s room and take it back to his room.”

“No I didn’t!” Gray denied, “I remember stealing or hiding it just to mess with him. It was hilarious, watching him have a complete meltdown.”

Rogue stuck his tongue out at his brother, acting more childish than Sting had seen in a long time. It was both endearing and amusing as hell.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Bro,” Gray replied, walking over to Rogue and bravely ruffling his hair.

“Rogue wasn’t the only one having a meltdown,” Mika retorted, quietly enough that only Sting could hear her.

“Ugh, just wait until you start dating someone. I am telling them everything,” Rogue promised.

Gray laughed heartily, “Good luck with that. I have zero intention of dating anyone.”

“That’s a shame,” Sting sighed, “you and Natsu looked pretty cute slow-dancing together the other night.”

“That was not what that was,” Gray sputtered, “That was just me comforting a friend.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re friends now?” Rogue immediately pounced on Gray’s words.

“No, I-we are friendly-ish, uhm…friend adjacent? Whatever! He’s still a pain in my ass!” Gray attempted to clear things up, but at hearing that, Sting and Rogue glanced at each other and cracked up.

“Oh my God, get your minds out of the gutter, that’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

But it was too late. Sting and Rogue only laughed harder at Gray’s outrage.

“Who’s Natsu?” Mika interrupted, completely lost as to what was happening.

“Gray’s source of butthurt-” Rogue pulled out his phone and looked through his image gallery, showing his mother a picture of their friend.

“Oh, he’s cute! You should ask him out, sweetie,” Mika encouraged her older son, as Aki gave them all a tentative smile from his spot on his grandmother’s lap.

“Look what you started,” Gray glared at Sting accusingly, “Now I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Well, you said it yourself. I’m family now, aren’t I?” Sting bounced Gray’s words back at him, patting him on the back, “That’s what family’s for!”

Sting and Mika laughed at Gray’s less than enthusiastic response and Rogue’s triumphant smirk.

It was a fantastic feeling to no longer be watching from the sidelines like he usually did, but to actually take part in this moment and give as good as he got. It wasn’t something he was used to, having grown up as an only child.

And it was with a start that Sting realized that while he’d grudgingly agreed to go on the shopping trip with Gray hoping to befriend him, somehow in the last couple of hours, they’d become brothers instead.

[captainkippen]

Heart of December

Short Story • Romance • New Adult • Ghosts

Every winter, the fireplace in the parlour roars to life of its own accord and from the flames emerges a ghost of the manor's past. Wesley doesn’t mean to fall in love with a dead man, but it seems anything is possible in the heart of December.

Read it on Wattpad.

The front parlour of Somerstone Manor was always freezing this time of year. It had been a persistent problem long before the deeds fell to the possession of Wesley Griffiths and had continued to be a nuisance ever since. Built before the invention of double-glazing, the whole house tended to be drafty. This was fine most of the year but made the harsh Yorkshire winters somewhat uncomfortable enough without the parlour’s icy demeanour creeping under the door and into the hallways. 

Wesley had never found the source of the cold, though it was not for lack of trying. Eight expensive contractors and a handful of local handymen had all been left scratching their heads. It was not the windows, they said, nor the floorboards. There was no mysterious gap in the roofing and the insulation was both new and too thick to be so ineffective. Neither the fire, which would not light no matter how much kindling sat in the grate nor the newly installed central heating system made any difference. It seemed the parlour was determined to become an icebox, what Wesley wanted be damned. It made sitting in there a ghastly endeavour, but he was determined not to show any sign of weakness. He suspected the house could sense such things. Then one night, at the stroke of midnight, the fire had burst into life, sending him staggering across the hearth in shock as he took in the terrifying sight before him. 

Tonight was twice as cold as usual. He sat wrapped in three layers of blankets and scarves only to continue shivering. A half-eaten tin of Marks & Spencer biscuits sat forgotten by his feet and his cup of tea had long since gone cold. Were it any other night, he might give in just this once and retire to his bedroom where at least he could curl up with a hot water bottle, but tonight he wouldn’t. It was December third. 

On December third, every year for the last four, he had sat in the very spot he sat in now and waited. As usual, the fireplace was dry and unlit. He stared at it, shifting slightly and rustling the blankets as he pulled them tighter around himself, waiting. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked. Three minutes to midnight. Every sound made him twitch with anticipation. Two minutes to midnight. The icy white flakes swirled down in a thick white fog, piling up on the windows. It was getting colder. One minute to midnight. The air felt as though it was biting at Wesley’s face. It was almost impossible to breathe…

Midnight. Nothing happened. Wesley frowned to himself, checking his wristwatch, it was definitely the correct time.  Surely he had not gotten the date wrong. He glanced over at the newspaper he’d abandoned on the side table. December 3rd, 2020, read the date. The chill of the air intensified. There was nothing for it, then. He would have to go upstairs. With a sigh, he began gathering the ends of his makeshift cocoon and stood. No sooner had he done so, when the fireplace burst into life. 

‘Evening, Wes,’ greeted the man who had appeared out of thin air alongside the flames.

‘You’re late,’ said Wes.

James Sherrington was a ghost. He had entered in his usual dramatic fashion, leaning against the wall dressed in the same white shirt and rumpled ascot that he’d been wearing since 1912, more solid than any ghost should be in Wesley’s opinion. 

‘Traffic on the other end.’ James made a vague gesture towards the fireplace.

Wesley raised one incredulous eyebrow. 

‘Traffic?’

‘Yes, well, you know. The holiday season is a busy time for the other side, all those spirits desperate to go through the doors and haunt their loved ones while they do their Christmas shopping. The queue really was enormous.’

Wesley suspected James was pulling his leg, but it was always hard to tell. 

The first time James had appeared next to the fireplace, the very same night the fire had come alive, Wesley had assumed he was going mad. Indignant at the idea of being imaginary, James had picked up Wesley’s favourite mug and thrown it across the room where it smashed hard against the stone wall, scattering ceramic shards all over. Wesley had fled, locking the parlour door behind him, hoping it was all a strange dream. When he’d woken up the next morning to find James sprawled across the chaise lounge reading a battered copy of Wuthering Heights, he had not been impressed.

He had decided then that James was an intruder. It appeared the only reasonable explanation was that he was some sort of madman attempting to scare Wesley out of his new home, perhaps in order to rob him. When the police had arrived, they did nothing but shoot wary looks at him while James stood, unseen by anyone but Wesley, laughing in the corner. They’d recommended he make an appointment with his GP, perhaps he was not feeling too well. The doctor had prescribed him tablets for insomnia, though Wesley knew he had no trouble sleeping, which lay still untouched five years later in his medicine cabinet. So he left for his sister’s house down in Kent, hoping he could outrun his problems until at least after the holidays were done, and when he’d returned on the twenty-seventh the fire was out once more and there were no strange men in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He had done a good job erasing James from his mind by the time December third rolled around once more, putting it down to the stress of moving, only to have the whole unpleasant experience repeat. Once more the flames spontaneously appeared at midnight, and again came James. This time Wesley did not call the police; he called a priest. The priest brought with him an expert on spirits from the Vatican, and Wesley watched with his arms folded from the doorway as they read from the bible and flung holy water about the room. The fire roared on. James laughed. Wesley began to lose his temper. 

They went through three more exorcists and a variety of ‘ghost hunters’ armed with EMPs and other useless equipment which buzzed at nothing in particular until midnight on Christmas Eve rolled around and the fire went out. The house was too quiet without James taunting him.

The third year, James was greeted by a fatigued Wesley armed with a collection of crosses. He had been up and staring at the fire for a full week before the date rolled around. The crosses did nothing, but that wasn’t all that much of a surprise. For the first time, James revealed that he could in fact leave the parlour if he wanted to, and he made Wesley a cup of tea before sending him off to bed. Perturbed by this impossible man roaming the manor’s halls, but unable to think of anything else to do about it, Wesley had trudged up the stairs and fallen exhausted upon his mattress, vowing to sort it out tomorrow. 

They started to get used to one another after that, sitting together at the crooked kitchen table and listening to terrible Christmas music on the radio while Wesley worked away at his laptop. He learned that James’ family had owned the house for several generations a century or so before, and he was the last of them to live there. He had disappeared in 1912, never to be found, only to pop up dead in the house every year after. An odd twist – something like regret maybe – always appeared on his lips when he mentioned it. He disappeared again on Christmas Eve, and Wesley spent the entire next day missing his ear-splitting renditions of All I Want For Christmas.

The fourth year, James had crossed the threshold with, ‘What? No crosses this year?’ and Wesley had made him help put up the Christmas tree. 

James could not, or would not – Wesley was unsure which – leave the grounds of Somerstone, but he liked to wander about the garden on the busy afternoons when Wesley was working. He read every book on the tottering shelves of the library, ate half the food in the pantry and spent hours marvelling over Wesley’s phone and iPad with the kind of excitement you often see on the faces of children in a sweet shop. He did seem dead when he was around. On the odd occasion where their hands brushed, his skin was warm. His breath stirred the air when he laughed and he left creases and dents on the furniture he sat on. Like Wesley, James had a bad habit of leaving half-drunk teacups laying about on every surface and, unlike Wesley, he would spend hours in the shower if he could. Wesley wasn’t sure if he slept, he suspected not, but he would stay sat with him by the fire on the late nights that they’d stayed up talking so long that Wesley drifted off to sleep against his shoulder. He smelled like earth and smoke.

The parlour was quite comfortable when it was warm. The fire flickered bright orange, casting shadows across the walls. Wesley cracked his neck and turned the page of his book. He was fighting off sleep, determined to get the information before him to seep into his brain properly before he turned in for the night, but it was a losing battle. At his feet, James was sprawled across ignoring the small mountain range of old tomes around him. He was counting all the red baubles on the Christmas tree aloud. It was distracting. For one thing, Wesley couldn’t concentrate on words when James was singing numbers under his breath, and it did not help that a wayward strange of blonde hair had fallen across his face in a way that made him want to lean down and sweep it back. He growled in frustration.

‘Must you do that?’ he snapped.

James’ mouth twitched and he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow so as to get a better look at Wesley.

‘Are you going to continue being boring if I stop?’

‘It’s not boring,’ he lied. ‘I’m trying to help.’

James covered his face with his hands and groaned, the exasperation slipping through his fingers and swirling in the air between them. For several days now, they had been going back and forth over the same old argument. Unfortunately, stubbornness was one of the few traits the two of them shared.

It was the year before that James had admitted the truth. Though he had previously claimed he had no idea what had happened regarding his disappearance or the strange circumstances under which he existed now, it transpired to be the result of a curse. One evening, half-drunk from a dusty bottle of Merlot they’d unearthed from the depths of the cellar, they had flopped back onto one of the drawing-room sofas and the whole sorry story had come out.

‘I didn’t mean to upset her,’ James had sighed as Wesley mulled it over.

A witch, Wesley felt he deserved an award for his calm reaction to the revelation that such a thing existed, though since he had been spending the lead up to Christmas with a living dead man for the past four years it was hard to be surprised by much these days, was the cause of it all. In his last week of living and breathing on a regular basis, James had met a witch – Marlene Maminot was her name – at the party of a politician his father wished him to rub elbows with. She had claimed she could find anybody’s ‘true love’, something which James had very much scoffed at. He believed not in true love nor in magic and, as far as he was concerned, love was a children’s tale told to make the idea of marriage more bearable. It was rather stupid, but not out of character, for James to respond by daring Ms. Maminot to prove she was not just an old fraud so, of course, he did just that. 

‘Fine,’ she’d said. ‘I will find your true love for you, hold out your hand.’ She ran a finger along his palm, closing her eyes. ‘Your heart line is long and your fate is clear, but your life line… it complicates things. You are too hesitant. It will require sacrifice. You must accept the truth if you wish to be free.’

She pulled her hand back. They’d stared at one another, a small crowd of party-goers gathered around them, and the ridiculousness of it all overwhelmed him. He laughed and laughed until she had melted away. 

Six days later, on the third of December, James was dead.

Because he could not let things lie, Wesley had waited until James had disappeared and left him feeling hollow and alone once more before he dove headfirst into his research. Ms. Maminot had long since been buried by the time Wesley tracked her down, but by a stroke of unexpected luck his granddaughter, Louisa, still lived at that same address. They’d had tea together and visited her grave. 

‘I imagine it’s a curse, from what you’ve told me,’ she said. ‘Nana liked to teach lessons, see. She wasn’t one to be mistreated or to pander to arrogance, but she wasn’t cruel… there will be a way to break it. He just has to find it.’

Thus, after this, Wesley had amassed a collection of books on spells, curses and the occult so large that it looked like he might be starting a cult. Ever since James had returned for the holidays, he’d been trying to pry more details out of him regarding Ms. Maminot and find a way to fix it. James gave his answers reluctantly, growing more sullen the further Wesley got. He did not see why Wesley was so bothered, he’d been reappearing in the parlour for over one hundred Christmases now and the witch was dead, it was a pointless endeavour. Wesley, however, could not understand why James was not more motivated to find a way to break the curse. It seemed a miserable thing to spend most of the year dead, only to reappear confined to an ageing manor with only one person for company and nothing much to do but read.

‘That’s no way to live,’ he said.

‘Good thing I’m not alive, then!’ James sniped back.

 The weeks passed with agonising terseness. James was not his usual jovial self, he had not once sung along to Mariah Carey or insisted that Wesley watch a funny YouTube video he’d found. He’d all but locked himself away in the parlour, looking more ghostly each day. It was inevitable, then, the argument that cracked it. Wesley had found something; a book on enchantments which might be helpful in finding James’ corpse (if indeed there was one). James had been none too thrilled about this discovery. 

‘I don’t understand why you care so much!’ he shouted. ‘Would you rather I be gone? Am I that much of a burden to you? You’re that desperate to have your peace and quiet?’

Wesley frowned. 

‘You know that’s not the case.’

‘Then why?’

‘Because I want you to stay.’ 

They stared at one another.

‘But… but I’m dead,’ James said, hopelessly. He stalked forward and grasped Wesley by the shoulders, looking him in the eye with an expression of deep intensity. ‘I’m dead, Wes. I’ve got nothing to offer you.’

‘If you were dead, you wouldn’t be able to eat all the biscuits when I’m not looking,’ Wesley pointed out. ‘If you were really dead, you wouldn’t leave footprints in the snow. But you do. You do.’

James shook his head and stepped back.

‘You don’t understand.’

Wesley grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward again and caressing his face gently with the other hand. 

‘I do understand,’ he said gently. ‘I do. You’re not dead, James. You’re not dead, you’re cursed. There’s a difference. I want you to stay. Please stay. You have to believe you can stay.’

‘Why?’ He asked again, quietly this time.

‘Because… I miss you,’ Wesley whispered, pressing his forehead to James’. The desperation in his voice was unbearable. ‘ When you’re gone… I hate it when you’re gone. It’s too quiet. I’ve got no one to steal my books, or use up all the hot water or drink my terrible tea. It’s awful. Don’t you…’ he trailed off, unsure of how to ask. It came out in a rush. ‘I love you.’

James stared at him, gaze flooded with disbelief, and Wesley braced himself for the punch. But no hit came. Instead, a hand reached up and adjusted his glasses for him. 

‘Do you truly mean that? You love me?’

For a moment, Wesley could do nought but nod. And then he remembered something, something which made it all seem so obvious.  

‘You must accept the truth to be free,’ he recited. ‘That’s what Ms. Maminot said, isn’t it? When you laughed at the idea of love.’

James paused. Understanding began to dawn on his face and he nodded. 

‘The old witch was telling the truth then, she really could find people’s lovers.’

‘Seems that way.’

‘I… didn’t think it possible. I thought it was just me,’ James murmured.

‘You’re both blind and an idiot, then.’

‘And you’re an unbearable sap.’

James grinned as he leaned forward to press their lips together. A great pressure lifted from Wesley’s chest as they curled around one another. Time slowed, the snow outside ceased falling, and on the mantelpiece, the clock chimed twelve. 

They pulled apart, eyes wide.

‘Don’t–’ Wesley started to say, clutching tighter to James, but then the chiming stopped. 

The fire roared on, the parlour bathed in its comforting warmth, and beneath his fingers, the long-still pulse of James’ wrist finally began to thump. 

[inthewild-flowers]

fic masterlist!

This is a masterlist of all my fics. Most of them can be found on AO3, although there is a Tumblr Drabble section at the end.

I’ll be updating this every time I post a new fic/finish posting a multi chapter fic. Enjoy!

Oneshots

Weak In The Knees

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Word Count: 575

Summary: Kind of just a whole lot of Wolfstar fluff. There's dancing involved.

Other: Maybe a muggle au?? I’m not entirely sure tbh, pretty cute if I do say so myself, the title comes from the Serena Ryder song weak in the knees.

Bright Yellow Ducks

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): James Potter/Lily Evans, background Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

Word Count: 2114

Summary: Lily works at a corner store, and one day the Marauders walk in on a quest for ice cream.

Other: Muggle au, I’m pretty sure it was based on a post I saw but I wrote it a few years ago so I’m honestly not sure

Earth Angel

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

Word Count: 674

Summary: I love fics where Remus is just an absolute angel, so here’s my version of that. Sirius has a crush on the cute guy who works at the bakery in his neighbourhood and finally get a chance to talk to him.

Other: Remus works at a bakery au, I wrote this after reading The London Underground Book Of Love by Children_of_the_Shadows on AO3 (absolutely would recommend, it’s amazing) and it’s probably one of my favourite fics I’ve written, the title is from the song Earth Angel by The Penguins

Gilderoy Lockhart Is A Dick (But His Dickery Has Some Interesting Consequences)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, background James Potter/Lily Evans

Word Count: 2699

Summary: When Remus finds out Gilderoy is cheating on him, the next thing he has to do is find out who he's cheating with. And if that person happens to be Sirius Black, well, Remus is okay with that. Based off of the joke me and my sister have about Legend of Korra: both of Mako's girlfriends leave him for each other.

Other: Muggle au, funny, crack fic, way more sex jokes than I usually write but it fits with the whole vibe of this fic

Text Me

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Word Count: 566

Summary: Written for girlwithacrown’s finish this fic challenge. My take on the second half of “Remus is a bookstore owner and Sirius comes in looking for a book during coronavirus lockdown” (might wanna read her first half tho lol).

Other: Here is @girlwithacrown ‘s first half of the fic, and here is her collection with the other fics that people wrote for their own versions of the second half!

Padfoot Won’t Leave

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Word Count: 2453

Summary: At the end of Harry's third year, Remus and Sirius have a plan to get Harry away from the Dursleys.

Other: crack fic, I tried my best to make it funny, someone sent a post to the wolf star games 2020 discord that said that there aren't enough “Sirius makes himself at home at the Dursley’s house because there’s nothing they can do to make him leave” fics and then we as a group decided to fix that. Here’s the collection of fics we wrote for it! :)

Rooftop Ramblings

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Aziraphale/Crowley

Word Count: 526

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley share a cigarette on a rooftop, and wish that things could be different.

Other: pining, the whole plot is literally just pining, written for a dtiys based on this art by @whiteleyfoster

yoga (sirius’s way)

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus/Sirius

Word Count: 1043

Summary: Remus decides to start doing yoga to get some exercise during quarantine, and naturally, Sirius wants to try as well.

Other: Quarantine fic!!, domestic fluff, inspired by this art by @gaeilgelupin

two bros, going on a brocation, five feet apart cause they’re not gay

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus/Sirius

Word Count: 1927

Summary: In which Sirius takes Remus on a surprise Christmas vacation

Other: Christmas fic!!, so much fluff, :))

🎶 Remus is a swearwolf 🎶

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus/Sirius, James/Lily/Regulus

Word Count: 2694

Summary: Regulus sighed. “Come on, Sirius, let’s get you off this thing and then you’ll feel better.” They pried Sirius’s hands off the bar and helped him out of the rollercoaster, where he stood for a moment on shaky legs, clutching Regulus’s arm.“I’m going to get some mint chocolate,” he declared once his legs had regained some of their strength, “and then we’re going to the haunted house and I’m getting my revenge.”

Other: A sequel to ice ice baby by @pan-and-ready-to-stan, 90% banter, a LOT of swearing, fluff

would it kill you if we kissed

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus/Sirius

Word Count: 1741

Summary: Sirius leaned his head against the window and let his eyes flutter shut. Maybe if he slept, some of the horrible things would go away. Maybe if he slept, he would wake up to find that he was just on a normal road trip with one of his best friends. Maybe if he slept, he could forget the reason he was here at all.

Other: hurt/comfort, and also getting together!! bc I love get together fics :)

(i thought) i knew you 

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus/Sirius

Word Count: 1432

Summary: Sometimes Sirius thinks that he might be okay. That maybe he’ll make it through this. He’s broken up with people before, hasn’t he? He’s been heartbroken before, and he’s always made it through. He’s survived so many things in his life that it seems silly that this would be the thing to break him.

Other: oh boy is there angst, that’s it that’s the fic just angst, there is a hopeful ending though??, there’s some super vague sort of references to self harm but it doesn’t like. happen

Got It

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus/Sirius

Word Count: 2859

Summary: Remus pushed down the butterflies in his stomach and accepted the vape when Sirius offered it, inhaling deeply and pointedly not thinking about how Sirius’s lips had been there just moments before. This was the closest Remus would ever get to kissing him. No, he told himself sternly, don’t think about that. It didn’t work. It never did.

Other: texting, fluff fluff fluffity fluff, getting together, written for marauders pride fanzine

in a cottage on a cliffside

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Word Count: 2865

Summary: “Are you cold?” Remus asked. “I’ve got another blanket somewhere…” he trailed off, looking at Sirius expectantly. Sirius shook his head.

“I’m fine.” he smiled again, then took another sip of his tea. He made the same face as before. It was adorable.

“Why are you here?” Remus asked. Sirius blinked at him.

“I wanted to see you.

Other: this was a birthday present for a friend, its fluff and a bit of pining and just generally soft :)) also a get together fic

The Year Remus Lupin Made Friends

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Word Count: 3546

Summary: James was sixteen years old, and it was summertime. Sirius and Pete were staying with him, Pete for a week, Sirius for the whole summer and hopefully every holiday after it too. James wanted to play quidditch, but the risk of being seen by muggles was too high, and his parents wouldn’t allow it. James was also very stubborn. His parents should have known to keep a closer eye on the boys, but some things can’t be helped. Here is what happened:

Other: written for a discord server secret santa. very marauders friendship focused, but also wolfstar at the end :))

In the dark and in the dusty sunlight

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

Word Count: 1099

Summary: “I thought we were past such formalities, Lord Lupin.”“Indeed we are, Sirius, but it did feel right in the moment. You know,” Remus gave him an appraising look, and Sirius shivered, “you look rather like a painting, lying there like that.”“My dear Remus, we know very well that I am a work of art.”Remus laughed. “Yes, that has been well established.” He took off his hat and placed it on a table, then crossed over to the windows. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the curtains.

yall its gay historical pining thats it thats the summary

Other: its just,,,, a period drama. thats it. I wrote a scene from a period drama just for the pining.

Multi Chapter Fics

Love At First Hot Chocolate

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, background James Potter/Lily Evans

Chapter/Word Count: 5 chapters, 5069 words

Summary: 18 year old Remus Lupin works at Starbucks. He hates it. He hates that he has to talk to people and be nice. He hates making coffee (although he doesn't mind the hot chocolate). But one day, Sirius Black walks in. For Remus, it's love at first sight. But does Sirius feel the same way?

Other: Muggle au, sort of a coffeeshop au in that they meet at a coffeeshop but otherwise it’s not it there much, fluff, might have been inspired by a post I saw a few years ago about Remus working at a coffeeshop and always getting Sirius’s name wrong?? But again, I wrote this a few years ago and don’t really remember lol

I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans

Chapter/Word count: 2 chapters, 1431 words

Summary: James is getting married, and Sirius worries that he won't get to see his best friend anymore. One night, he vents his feelings to a cute stranger at a pub, who happens to be in a similar situation.

Other: Muggle au, title from the Tom Waits song I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You

If You Want To Buy Me Flowers

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

Chapter/Word Count: 3 chapters, 1499 words

Summary: Remus owns a flower shop. Sirius is breaking up with his boyfriend using flower language.

Other: Muggle au, Remus is a florist au, inspired by a post I saw about flower meanings, title from the song Two Princes by Spin Doctor

Don’t Shoot The Messenger

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Lily Evans, Alice (I don’t know her last name)/Frank Longbottom

Chapter/Word Count: 16 chapters, 13,192 words

Summary: Ever since his first year at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin has been exchanging messages with someone on a bathroom stall. Neither of them know who the other one is, and now that they're graduating soon, they want to find out.

Other: Muggle au, modern au, Remus isn't part of the Marauders au, a bit of texting

Love Through The Ages

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, some vague background James Potter/Lily Evans

Chapter/Word Count: 4 chapters, 2213 words

Summary: Remus finds a love letter that Sirius wrote to him two centuries previously and never sent.

Other: They’re vampires au, I guess technically muggle au??, fluff, love letters, confessions, inspired by this post by @kayvsworld

“No, Sirius, tying the stems of flowers together will NOT make a flower crown”

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Chapter/Word Count: 4/4 chapters, 4247 words

Summary: In which Sirius can’t make a flower crown, Remus thinks Sirius might be flirting, and James has no clue what’s going on.

Other: so much fluff, oblivious James, inspired by this art that I love a lot by @girlwithacrown

Hogwarts, 1993

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (this may change, I don’t have the fic planned out at all, so it could end up with a G rating, but I’ve rated it T just to be safe)

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Chapter/Word Count: 7/? chapters, 7248 words as of October 4 2020

Summary: When Sirius escapes Azkaban and goes to Hogwarts, instead of lurking around as the Grim like a FOOL, he decides to seek help from an old friend.

Other: I don't have any warnings for this one yet, but I’ll put them in if necessary. I’ll be posting the chapters as I write them, and I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t take too long.

the doc was called halloween babeyy

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Lily Evans

Chapter/Word Count: 6 chapters, 1240 words

Summary: a self indulgent halloween fic with pumpkin shenanigans, meet cutes, and texting. 

“They’re battle scars,” Remus repeated. “And you can’t call him just ‘pumpkin’ anymore, his official title is the PumpKing and he requires it to be used at all times.” Remus finished carving out the last scar, and picked up the sharpie to draw the outline of a crown near the top of the pumpkin. One he was satisfied, he picked up his knife and started cutting along the lines.“In that case,” James said, “Mine’s the PumPeasant and he looks like this because of a childhood disease.”

Other: ‘tis all fluff :))

a very (in)effective seduction

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Chapter/Word Count: 10/? chapters, 9557 words

Summary: In which Sirius decides that it's time to seduce Moony. Yes, he has a list

Other: written for girlwithacrown and kidovna’s blissember chirstmas prompts! get together, fluff, etc.

Note: I will finish this eventually, but I was struggling a lot with writing it, so it may take some time. I do have it sort of planned out, and once I have the motivation to write it again it shouldn’t take too long to finish :))

dreaming of you

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Dorcas Meadowes/Marlene McKinnon

Chapter/Word Count: 6/? chapters, 4932 words

Summary:

 french bitch: I have arrived

french bitch: paris has gained a resident and he is magnificent

sweet sweet moony: paris is usually referred to as she

french bitch: HOW DARE

Jimmy: he does have a point tho

or: Sirius is in france on his study abroad year, remus is pining, and James and Peter are enjoying the chaos

Other: texting, fluff, theres eventually gonna be wolfstar and dorlene and either jily or jegulily I haven’t decided yet

You Hold The Key To My Heart

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Lily Evans/Regulus Black

Chapter/Word Count: 38 chapters, 26 049 words

Summary: Sirius threw himself on his bed, not caring about how he must be wrinkling his clothes. In fact, he relished the idea. At least his parents would have a reason to be angry with him today. He stayed there, thinking about soft curls and a sweet face that he barely caught a glimpse of, until the sun was shining directly through his window and James arrived to help him dress for dinner.

Or, a victorian au in which Remus is a gardener, Sirius is a dramatic rich kid, and they fall in love.

Other: I wrote this for the 2020 wolfstar games. it’s mainly fluff, but I also got to indulge my love of historical things which was amazing :D

Series

Dan’s cute & short wolfstar fics with no plot that make them happy to write :)

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Number of works: 4

Complete: No

Works in the series:

Goodnight Moony - Remus doesn’t want to go to bed. Sirius thinks Remus should go to bed. 201 words.

Snow - It’s literally just Remus and Sirius enjoying the snow, that’s it, that’s the fic, please enjoy. 124 words.

I Just Called To Say I love You - Sirius calls Remus the night before a big exam. 174 words.

Lupin Can’t Sing - Please read the title to the tune of “lupin can’t sing, lupin can’t sing, lupin cannot sing!” from AVPS. Remus is drunk and trying really really hard at karaoke. 409 words.

Ruby Tuesday - Remus and Sirius cuddle and listen to Ruby Tuesday. It's very cute, if I do say so myself. 259 words.

HP Pride Month 2020!!

Rating: General Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Lily Evans/James Potter

Number of works: 4

Complete: Yes

Other: All the fics in this series were written for @girlwithacrown ‘s HP pride month prompts, and you can find other fics written for those prompts in her collection on AO3!

Works in the series:

Coming Out - Remus and Sirius decide to tell their friends they're dating. 1035 words.

Flag - Sirius and James make unique additions to their pride flags, and at the pride parade they see two other people with matching flags. 1126 words.

Family - Sirius runs away from home. 898 words.

Healing - Remus's dog gets hurt, and the vet is way hotter than Remus was prepared for. Sirius may or may not have Ted from Schitt's Creek vibes. It was mostly unintentional. 1012 words.

Working Title: Summertime

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Ship(s): Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans

Number of Works: 2

Complete: No

Works in the series:

Forgiveness & Friendship - The summer after sixth year (and The Prank, you know which one. The one with Snape. And Remus.), Sirius shows up on James's doorstep. 13 chapters, 4437 words

Mischief & Matchmaking - The marauders (+ Lily) are spending a few weeks at James’s house, and oh boy is there a lot of sexual tension there. Peter decides to do something about it. Featuring: shenanigans and three separate tropes cause why not. 17/17 chapters and 6772 words.

dan?? writing angst?? it’s more likely than you’d think

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Number of Works: 3

Complete: No

Works in the series:

stardust is easily lost - He kisses him because he loves him, because loving Sirius is a habit he’s never been able to break, not in school when he thought loving Sirius would kill him, and not now when he thinks that Sirius might kill them all. It keeps him up at night sometimes.

cascade - Teaching at Hogwarts is equal parts wonderful and miserable. He loves his students, but some days he looks at them and he sees himself, happy and carefree, with his best friends at his side. Those days are the hardest.

the death of a star - And sometimes, Sirius almost seems like his old self again. Sometimes, his mischievous grin that Remus remembers all too well will appear on his face, and he’ll lean over and whisper a snide comment in Remus’s ear, and Remus will have to try to stifle a laugh.

Other: yall this is angst, there is major character death, its A Lot, theyre also down in the Tumblr drabbles section & their titles are all variations of “angst babeyyy”

dan is a) yearning and b) obsessed with dorlene and bookstores

Rating: General Audiences and Teen and Up Audiences

Ship(s): Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes

Number of Works: 3

Complete: No

Works in the series:

1. Walking In a Winter Wonderland – As they skated, Marlene couldn’t take her eyes off of Dorcas. She knew that they were holding a conversation somehow or other––about Dorcas’s job at the bookstore, she was fairly certain––but her brain was on autopilot as she watched the lights dance across Dorcas’s face, lighting up the night like miniature stars.

2. adventures pertaining to love actually (and also shrek) – The woman shook her head solemnly, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You absolutely cannot.”They grinned at each other for a moment, then the woman’s eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall and she swore. “I’ve got to go. It was nice talking to you! And you’ll have to tell me what you think of that movie if you watch it!”“I will!” Dorcas called after her, and the woman waved as she hurried out the door.Well. She sure hoped that Love Actually was on Netflix. (note: this one is set before the first fic in the series)

3. it can't be hard to find a present right?? (wrong) – “What’cha got there?” Frank flopped into the chair beside Dorcas and took a sip of his coffee, eyeing the mess of yarn on her lap with curiosity.

“It’s not weird to make her a scarf, is it?”

“...to make who a scarf?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

Other: yeah im just being generally fluffy and self indulgent here, enjoy! :))

Tumblr Drabbles

“It’s three in the morning” - jegulus

“This is the opposite of what I told you to do!” - wolfstar

“Do you have a ride home?” - wolfstar

“Come cuddle” - wolfstar

“I am home” - dorlene

“I’m getting married? Since when were you choosing my future spouse?” - wolfstar

“Another bad date?” - jily

James and Remus being very very chaotic bros

24 hour diner au - wolfstar

they have the same favourite chair - wolfstar

Sirius loses Remus’s present (and James helps him look) – wolfstar

when she wears YOUR flannel shirt - dorlene

when you can’t choose just one snuggly blanket so you wrap up in all of them - the marauders

angst babeyyyyyyyyy - first war wolfstar

2 angst 2 babeyyyyyyyyy - poa wolfstar

angst babeyyyy 3.0 - ootp sorta wolfstar

high school/college minifest day 1: back to school - wolfstar

high school/college minifest day 2: detention - wolfstar

remus has whipped cream on his face and sirius canNOT handle it - wolfstar

hufflepuff remus who makes friends with the marauders - wolfstar

dorcas is hurt and marlene is taking care of her - dorlene

remus is a lil shit (back hugs prompt) - wolfstar

just friends booty shorts - James and sirius

night at the museum au - wolfstar and jily

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Life | 2020

Or that annual New Year’s meme where I talk about what the year was like to live through. And since this is 2020 the read through below features: a whole lot of depression, frank discussion about losing my cat, and pictures of my face.

1. What did you do in 2020 that you’d never done before? Lost my best friend. I lost a hamster when I was about ten, but other than that, I’ve never lost a pet before. Losing Mal was the worst thing about an already awful year. I have lost family members that I have mourned less than her. I am still fucked up about losing her, and probably will be for a long while yet. 

Things that I haven’t done before - 2020 edition - consists of extreme depression, global pandemics, wearing a mask if I’m not either at home or in my car, having covid, being in the ER twice in one year, cutting all carbs and losing sixty pounds, spending a weekend in Vegas (in January, obvs), gambling (and winning over a thousand dollars), and probably a lot of other things that I’ve blocked out. But it’s always going to be the year that I lost Mal.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Apparently, according to 2019 me, my resolutions were to lose weight and quit smoking. Which, strangely enough, I actually did. Who knew that going to the ER for heart issues at the age of 30 would scare me into switching some things up.So, yay! I kept my resolutions.

Resolutions for 2021 - lose the rest of the weight. End goal is only another 50 pounds away. Write something original if you can, but don’t stress if you can’t. Heal. Be happier. Breathe deep. Don’t do something you’ll regret.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? One of my coworkers had a kid earlier in the year, but nothing since.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Mal. 

5. What countries did you visit? Alternatively, what is your favorite place that you did go this year? No countries this year, because that is illegal. I did go to Las Vegas in January though, before the year turned into an absolute shitstorm. It was actually really wonderful, which I wouldn’t have expected out of Vegas. We watched our friends get married on the High Roller. Ate a lot of very good, but very expensive food. Gambled a bit and actually won money. Saw two Cirque du Soleil shows - the Beatles and water one. Saw the Bellagio fountains and maybe cried a little about it. It was really nice.

6. What would you like to have in 2021 that you lacked in 2020? Well, I didn’t get a ring and we didn’t get a house, but we also made the decision to not do that this year. We did however, get a better president, so that was nice. In 2021, I would like a little more serotonin and a little less anxiety. And I’m not gonna say a damn thing about a ring.

7. What date from 2020 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? September 20th, 2020. Any other dates don’t fucking matter. 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I lost a ton of weight and quit smoking, hopefully for the last time. Covid didn’t kill me. I didn’t kill me. I know that sounds bad, but it was a really, really horrible year.

9. What was your biggest failure? I don’t know. Not being able to save her? Not knowing that the heart abnormality had gotten that bad? Not getting her on clot busters the minute we took care of the thyroid problem.  10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I had Covid near the end of October and had regular illnesses a couple times throughout the year. I went to the ER in May for heart-related problems. And I’ve had debilitating headaches every single day since Covid, so. Yes. 11. What was the best thing you bought? We rescued a new kitten approximately four days after we lost Mal. It was too soon, I think, and if I could have done it again, I may have waited longer. But BMO was incredibly depressed after she passed and had basically stopped eating, so we were desperate. But I can’t regret getting her. She’s been the little bit of sunshine we’ve had since October.  12. Whose behavior merited celebration? I don’t know. Everyone and everything sucked this year. 13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? I don’t know, mine? I’ve come a long way this year in terms of weight loss and smoking and holding it together, but I’ve also sunken into the deepest hole that I’ve possibly ever been in since September. I will always be deeply frustrated by Nick’s mother and my mother, so that’s not really new. Everything sucked. Hopefully 2021 is better.

14. Where did most of your money go? Bullshit medical stuff. Turns out that two ER trips, countless doctor visits, and dental fuckery is really expensive. I did also go slightly crazy and bought Nick too many gifts this year, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t bad. Also planning on buying a relatively pricey comforter as soon as I’ve confirmed that I haven’t gotten it for Christmas. 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? I am going to be completely and totally serious when I say that I don’t think I’ve experienced true excitement since about February. I did get a very intense, brief spike of serotonin when I saw the new Dragon Age and Mass Effect trailers. But like. I don’t know. That’s kind of it. 

Okay, no, that’s a lie. I was happy to lose the weight I did and was super proud of myself and my health was phenomenal, but then Mal happened and covid happened and it’s hard to see the good things that happened this year when I feel this fucking horrible right now.

16. What song will always remind you of 2020? Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (because yeah, that was this year, fuck). Teeth. Don’t Get Me Wrong. The Untamed theme. Well, the entire Untamed soundtrack. Dance Monkey. We Won’t Be Falling. Promare soundtrack. Own Me. Into the Unknown. Monster. Waving Through a Window. Eurovision soundtrack. 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? So much more depressed. Which says a lot, because 2019 was not super great. ii. thinner or fatter? But hey, on the plus side my answer to this question is finally thinner. iii. richer or poorer? Probably around the same. Or maybe poorer? I had a lot in my savings last year that I had to dip into because of medical shit. 18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I’d done... anything. I wish I was allowed to leave my house without worrying about infecting myself or others. I wish that I had gone to the park more. I wish that I’d travelled. I wish that I’d written more. I wish I’d cooked more. I wish I’d worked out. Spent more time with my cat.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? God, I fucking wish I’d spent less time in my apartment.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I don’t know. Nick’s family wants to have a big gathering since his grandpa might not be around next year? But the idea of that makes me super flinchey, for obvious reasons. I mean, I’m reasonably sure that the antibodies are still in our system, so we have a smaller chance of infection, but fuck. Also, large gatherings have been giving me anxiety, also for obvious reasons. 21. How will you be spending New Year’s Eve? I hope that we’re staying home. I want to make pirozki and spend the transition into the new year on my couch, maybe playing a video game, maybe napping. 22. Did you fall in love in 2020? Still love him. He got me through this year. I don’t think I could have done it alone. 23. Best month for you this year? January through March was not horrible. I can’t remember a definitive good month of the three, but January was Vegas, which was really good, so lets go with that.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Of just 2020? The Untamed (live action and anime), The Magicians, Guardian, various Watcher Entertainment segments, She-Ra (season 5!!!), The Haunting of Bly Manor, Over the Garden Wall, Leverage, Motherland: Fort Salem...

My favorite being The Untamed, hands down. Obviously.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don’t think I have enough energy for hate at this point. I’m just tired.

26. What was the best book you read? Favorite was probably a tie between Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth, which works out well since they’re part of the same series. I really, really loved this series and am kind of sad that I have to wait until 2022 to get the third part of the trilogy. Top ten below, because why not.

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow by Natasha Pulley

Something to Talk About by Meryl Wilsner

The Invisible Life of Addie Larue by V.E. Schwab

Return of the Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur

The Last Sun (and it’s sequel) by K.D. Edwards

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Toss a Coin to Your Witcher has singlehandedly escorted me through 2020. Basically all the songs listed a couple questions up were my favorites of the year, but the Untamed soundtrack was probably my favorite. Promare soundtrack was also bomb af.

28. What did you want and got? Nick’s mom bought us nice bookshelves when we moved into the new place.

29. What did you want but didn’t get? A lot of things. Namely, I wish Mal was still with me.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Promare, 100% Most of the other movies I watched were all rewatches. I watched My Neighbor Totoro, Onward, Knives Out, Emma, and that Eurovision movie. They were all pretty swell.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I wrapped presents on the living room floor and watched Last Christmas, which I thought was just a rom-com Christmas movie but surprised the hell out of me at the reveal that her love interest was dead the whole time? Like? That came out of left field. We then had a very quiet lunch at the Lantern, the Chinese place we go every year, and ducked into Oakland Nursery and Barnes and Noble long enough to grab some plants and books. I also got to see the Easton Christmas tree from across the street. It was snowing and honestly, a really pretty day. Oh, also I had to go to the dentist. That was less fun.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? If I’d been able to keep Mal. 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2020? I wore a lot of comfortable work appropriate clothes and pajamas. My clothes don’t really fit me anymore since I lost all the weight, but I refuse to buy more until I’m actually at my goal weight. 34. What kept you sane? Nick was very helpful every time I had an anxiety attack and/or broke down crying. It could have been a lot worse, probably, but I literally cannot wrap my mind around that right now. 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Every single actor in the Untamed live action is unfairly gorgeous, especially Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan. Also, Henry Cavill was a shockingly good casting for Geralt and needs to be grimey all the time because he is a LOT more attractive when it looks like he hasn’t showered in three weeks. 36. What political issue stirred you the most? FUCK DONALD TRUMP IN THE EAR 20156789 2020—– This has literally been my response since 2015. Here’s to hoping that it won’t be my response in 2021. Also, children in concentration camps? Lying to the public about the pandemic? The race riots that happened earlier in the year? Literally everything else? This year has been fucking awful. 37. Who did you miss? Mal. Myself when I’m not feeling like this. 38. Who was the best new person you met? Annie. New coworker, delightful lady. If the pandemic was not a thing I definitely would have already gotten drinks with her after work.

39. Talk about a new friend that you made this year: Uh. Annie is a delightful person and brought me and Nick food when we were wasting away with covid. She also gave us toilet paper when we ran out after all the assholes in the entire country bought all the toilet paper in March/April. 

40. Post a picture from the beginning of the year:

This is me in like... February? I think? In public. Without a mask. I have lots of pictures of me in January, but all of them have someone else with me.

41. Post a picture from the end of the year:

Taken on my birthday, snatched just outside the doors of Barnes & Noble with the Easton tree across the street. Note the mask dangling from my ear.

42. A memorable meal discovered this year? Okay, so like. Two things. One- I had a meal in Vegas, that was fucking amazing. Actually I had a couple of those. Let me see if I can find pictures. Okay, so below are the two best meals I have eaten this year. The top is a butternut squash and pistachio ravioli, which came with this sweet butter sauce and it was so. fucking. good. Like, I have craved this thing since January. The bottom is the beef wellington at Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen. Which was... overpriced, but admittedly still delicious. I could have lived off that damn ravioli though.

43. What was your favorite memory this year? My birthday was actually pretty okay, all things considered. The snow was magical and I felt solidly okay for most of the day. Other than that, all of the nights in Vegas were great.

44. What are you excited for next year? So, the message to me from 2019 me for this question is about how I was really sad on December 26th of 2019 and that I hoped that 2020 would be the year that we “seized life by the horns or whatever” and like. Baby. 2019 me. I realize your depression was valid, but holy fuck, my sweet summer child it got so much worse. Though, I guess technically I did seize life by the horns for a bit. And then September hit like a bag of bricks.

Anyway, I am cautiously optimistic and hopeful that the transition of power to Biden goes smoothly. I’m hoping that things get better and not worse. I’m excited for several books, movies, and games, but mostly, I’m hoping that things are better. 

45. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2020: My message from last year was this:

“I feel like my message from last year is fucking taunting me. Legit though, this is not the worst thing you’ve ever been through. You have a boyfriend who loves you, two wonderful cats that better not fucking die anytime soon, and like, I don’t know, working ovaries. A job. A car. An apartment that has a kind of shitty kitchen and a bath tub that might as well not exist, but is still an apartment! Which is more than some people have!”

Thanks 2019 Heather. It got worse. (Though admittedly, and knock on fucking wood, but 2019 me is right. It could technically still get worse. But I have hope that it won’t.)

My valuable life lesson in the year of 2020: Life sucks. Keep your head on straight. Mourn your dead and love your living like you’ll never see them again. Live life like you could die tomorrow. And don’t take the little things for granted. 46. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: I am going to make it through this year If it kills me - This Year, The Mountain Goats

(2018 me apparently quoted Singing in the Rain. 2019 quoted something sad and pretentious. 2020 me is just tired and clinging to life by my damn fingernails.)

First Fandom of 2020: January of 2020 seems to have been solidly The Magicians, The Witcher, and The Untamed. Favorite Main Character of 2020: Wei Wuxian, fuck. Favorite Villain of 2020: Wei Wuxian, fuck. Close second if that doesn’t apply - Xue Yang. Favorite M/F Couple of 2020: Does Parker/Elliot/Hardison count? Because them, holy fuck. Also, female!Byleth/Jeritza. Favorite F/F Couple of 2020: Catra and Adora!!!!! Ahhhhh!!!! Er. Also, Harrow/Gideon.  Favorite M/M Couple of 2020: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji. Close second is probably Ryan/Shane. Fandom That You Never Expected To Get Into: Honestly, probably the Untamed. I’m not usually crazy about live actions, but fuck, it was good. Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher. Also, in the last month I have been all over Mark/Damien(/Sam) from the Bright Sessions because I just listed to Neon Darkness. Fandom That Inspired The Most Crack: Yeah, idk. There’s crack in every fandom. Last Fandom of 2020: Buzzfeed Unsolved. And honestly, I’m still not out of The Untamed.  Favorite Fandom of 2020: Definitely the Untamed. Dipping into the Witcher was also nice.

[kayincolwyn]

Whatever It Means To Be Human (Easter reflection, 4/12/2020)

As many others throughout the world have been pointing out over these last couple months, these are strange times that we're living in.

Back in December around Christmas I started getting sick, and in January I had to go to the ER for some kind of infection that was giving me a sore throat as well as a fever and headache, got a look over and a prescription for a week long course of penicillin which seemed to knock out the infection (and later got hit with a 1200 bill for that ER visit, because my insurance didn’t cover it, that I still need to pay back, which I was livid about when I first found out about it but now am trying to accept as best I can because I have bigger things to worry about). A couple weeks later I had a followup checkup (with a very sweet and very pretty nurse, so no complaints there) and I remember staff at the clinic being pretty jumpy about some virus over in China (now widely known around the world as the coronavirus, or Covid 19) that I honestly hadn't heard about before then, and they were asking me if I had traveled to China or had any interaction with anyone from there, and of course I said no, and I remember being kind of annoyed by their jumpiness at the time. Well, needless to say, now I can see why they were being so jumpy.

I've had some kind of bug or another off and on since then, like a lot of people do in the wintertime, but because of, well, 'everything that's going on' (a phrase I've been using and I've heard a lot of people using lately, like it's become some kind of collective cultural meme) I find myself worrying much more than usual about a little cough or stuffy nose or feeling a little under the weather. At first, like a lot of people, I thought this was no big deal, that it would be another of those diseases that infected a few people but would be quickly contained, and then when that didn't happen I thought, like a lot of younger folks, that I would be fine and just needed to worry about older folks that I care about, but now I know that I could potentially be taken out by this virus too, and even at the ripe old age of 37, so now I worry about myself as well as others, and I admit that, while I’m trying to be brave, part of me is scared.

Even with that worry and anxiety, and with the whole world changing so drastically in just a matter of weeks, I'm still working (with the realization that janitorial work has more value than perhaps I initially thought or felt) and still busing it to and from work and going to the grocery store as needed, while usually wearing my newly acquired neoprene half mask (with inserted filters provided by a friend) like armor, and while washing my bloody hands more than at any other time in my life, and while trying to boost my immunity as best I can with vitamins and supplements of various kinds. Strange times indeed.

I admit it's kind of odd to be considered an 'essential worker', to hear some even hailing people in my position as 'heroes on the frontline' or something like that, when for years I've felt that being a janitor was equal to being at the bottom of the totem pole, and over the years I have on occasion been made to feel less than by others because of my place on the totem pole (though to be fair I've also received my share of gratitude and kindness from others concerning my work as well, which I'm thankful for and appreciate). I mean, I don't really see myself as particularly heroic (I see doctors and nurses and other healthcare workers who are directly risking their lives in order to save others as far more heroic than myself, for example), but just as a guy trying to do his job in order to provide some service to others while also making a living, but I appreciate the validation nevertheless.

As an 'essential worker' (though even among 'essential workers' I still feel like I'm at the bottom or at least near the bottom of the totem pole), I just want to say that I feel that we all have a part to play in this world, that we all have something that we can contribute to the world, even if it may not seem like much.

Like I have seen some people online ragging on celebrities for trying to entertain others from the safety and comfort of their homes (with many of them being out of work at the moment for obvious reasons) but I would say that trying to entertain or encourage others in whatever way you can, even from a distance, can be meaningful and has its place, because we could all use a little entertainment and encouragement sometimes. I mean, for example, people out there can rag on Gal Gadot for trying to sing Imagine with a bunch of other celebrities who may or may not have any musical talent or ability in some online video, but even as cheesy and cringe-inducing as that may be, I still loved her as Wonder Woman (and through that role she has inspired many people, including many young women and girls) and I appreciate her desire, as well as the desire of everyone in that video, to uplift others in some way. Heck, even just trying to stay home as much as possible, trying to keep your distance from others, trying to be mindful of others, as she and many other celebrities as well as everyday people have been and are doing, in this time can be meaningful and shouldn't be completely discounted.

And to me it's not about being 'essential' or not, or 'heroic' or not, it's just about being human, and doing what you can to be a decent human in whatever way you can.

Of course being human is hard, as every human, no matter who they are or where they are, gets their share of suffering and sorrow in some way or another or at some time or another in their lives (though to be fair some certainly do seem to get a bigger share than others, and some comparatively less), and being a decent human is even harder, as it's often a challenge to do some good or do the right thing with all your faults and flaws and with all your limitations and shortcomings, and then going above and beyond that and being someone that most others would think of as a 'saint', well, that seems nigh impossible.

And what does it mean to be human anyway?

I guess that brings me to something that's been on my mind, and is on my mind more now what with it being Easter and having Jesus on the brain a little more than usual (hey, you can take the boy out of the Christianity but you can't take the Christianity out of the boy).

In times like this where the world is shaken up and we're in a semi-apocalyptic state of mind, where our mortality not just individually but collectively is more in question than usual, the question of what it means to be human looms large for many of us, along with those often asked questions about where we come from, why we're here, where we're going... you know, the usual fare.

Lately I've been reading some books by former evangelical Christians, including Unfollowed by Megan Phelps-Roper, granddaughter of Fred Phelps, founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, as well as books by Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis Schaeffer, an influential evangelical thinker and theologian.

Being a former evangelical Christian myself who is trying to find his way after questioning and deconstructing and for the most part walking away from that way of seeing and operating in the world, I can resonate with much of what they have to say and share, like the pain and loneliness there is in walking away from a community that you can no longer agree with to try and find your own path, or how with freedom to think for yourself comes an uncertainty that you have to get used to because now it's on you to decide what you will believe and where you will stand rather than just following what others have taught you or told you, or the mixed feelings about who you were and where you were when it wasn't all bad and it's part of who you are today and even while you don't want to, and really can't, go back, you're still grateful for it somehow.

And in their books they both wrestle with what it means to be human, what it means to be a good person, with the value of life and the value of love, because those questions and concerns still matter to them whether God or some higher power exists or not, just as they still matter to me on some level.

I've also been thinking a bit about Fred Rogers, better known to the world as Mister Rogers, the widely beloved children's TV host, after watching the recent film which stars Tom Hanks as Rogers, A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood, as well as the documentary Won't You Be My Neighbor?, and listening to a podcast about him called Finding Fred.

My late friend Erin McCarty was a big fan of Fred Rogers (I even sent her this Mister Rogers t-shirt that I found at a thrift store which she wore proudly in some of her photos on Facebook) whom she saw as a real saint, and she was far from being alone in thinking of him as one. Fred Rogers was one of those people who seemed to go above and beyond just being a decent human, as he was by all accounts a highly exceptional human, who, while having his share of quirks and eccentricities, more than most dedicated his life every waking hour to pursuing the good and showing love to others (and most especially children, whom he could be thought to be the patron saint of if he were canonized as a saint I should think) and even in such a way that no one with a sound mind and clear conscience could find any fault in him.

Those closest to him knew that he at times struggled with feeling inadequate, with feeling as though he wasn't really making a difference in the world, like what he was doing wasn't enough, but even so he continued to move forward, continued to try, an artist whose art-form was kindness and empathy (or as that podcast Finding Fred put it ‘a genius at empathy’).

I remember I was talking with a friend of mine about Fred Rogers the other day and he said that he thought if there was anyone who could perhaps have been the second coming of Christ it was Rogers, and while some might think that sentiment a little sacrilegious, I think it's a testament to the respect many people have for the man's character. People may on occasion playfully mock Mister Rogers for some of his mannerisms, for the way he talked or dressed or otherwise expressed himself (though of course much of that was for the sake of the children he was communicating with), but if you were to ask anyone with any sense at all they would admit that he was, if nothing else, a good man.

I guess the same could be said of Jesus, whose teachings about life and love Fred Rogers, being a Presbyterian minister who took his faith seriously (even if he was kind enough and wise enough not to push it on others as many religious folks tend to do unfortunately), sought to follow and apply to his own life as best he could. Many have parodied Jesus in one way or another over the years (in fact the next book I'll be reading just in time for Easter is Lamb: The Gospel According To Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, which I look forward to reading as it sounds like fun) but most would agree that he was, if nothing else, a good man. Even the beloved comedy group Monty Python, most of whom were agnostic or atheist, after studying the gospels in preparation for what would eventually become their classic comedy Life Of Brian, decided against making a film where they mocked Jesus but instead made a film that mocked the church that often failed to follow his example. Instead of focusing on Jesus in the film they decided to focus on a guy named Brian who was mistaken for Jesus, following him on all of his adventures (or misadventures), while occasionally showing the real Jesus respectfully somewhere in the background (much as was done in the film Ben Hur). They said their reason for doing this was that they couldn't help but appreciate much of what Jesus said and did in the gospels, or as they said in their decidedly British way 'you can't take the piss out of it'.

As Frank Schaeffer points out in his book Why I Am An Atheist Who Believes In God (which I thought was a pretty clever title, and one I can kind of resonate with as I’m somewhere in the middle like that myself), some things that Jesus says and does in the gospels, or at least is recorded as saying and doing, don't really make sense or seem inconsistent with the general thread of kindness and empathy that can be seen in Christ's teachings, and having read the gospels at least a couple of times myself (or at least a couple of their English translations anyway, where no doubt much gets lost in translation), I would agree. He wonders if maybe some things were taken out or added in, if the writers sometimes spun some things to bolster their own point of view (which humans tend to do unfortunately), or if some things were simply a result of 'the telephone game' as it were (with most of the gospels probably being written decades after the events that they chronicle took place so that's not really out of the realm of possibility), and he may be right (as much as many Christians out there, especially the more fundamentalist among them, who may believe that scripture is infallible and inerrant, would hate to admit it).

But whatever the case may be, there is still enough of that thread of kindness and empathy in Jesus' story and message that countless people have been inspired by it through the centuries since he was said to have lived and died (and at least according to the Easter story, risen from the dead), including people like Fred Rogers, and also including people like Megan Phelps-Roper and Frank Schaeffer or myself, who even though they no longer identify as Christian still see some value in Jesus’ example and teachings, or at least as they now interpret them.

Many still seek to follow that example and apply those teachings today, including in these very strange, and very difficult, times, trying to walk a path of kindness and empathy when the world seems to be falling apart. I can't really say for sure how much I'm doing that myself, walking that path, with all of my faults and flaws and limitations and shortcomings, but I would like to think or hope that I manage to do a little good each day and get things right at least on occasion.

The truth is though that many of us, including me, feel as though we don't measure up to the standard that someone like Jesus sets (or at least appears to set when you read about the kind of life he led), or even to the standard of someone like Fred Rogers. It just seems nigh impossible to meet that kind of standard. I mean I can't really speak for everyone who struggles with this, but I know that I have often struggled with wondering if I'm good enough, have debated whether I'm making a difference in the world, and have had doubts about whether I am even a decent human, let alone a saint. I feel like I fail or fall short in some way or another every day, feel like I don't care enough, don’t give enough, don't live big enough or love deep enough. Maybe some of my family and friends who see more in me than I see in myself might argue with me on this, but it's still how I feel sometimes, or even much of the time, and is a daily internal struggle for me.

But hearing about Fred Rogers, who some half jokingly (but also half seriously) would call the closest thing to a second coming of Christ that they can think of, having similar struggles gives me some perspective and comfort though, and it makes me wonder if even Jesus himself had such struggles, even if they may not have be written about, even if they were only written in his own heart, as blasphemous as the thought of someone whom many claim and believe to have been the Son of God, or even God in human form, actually struggling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt may be, but blasphemous or not that thought gives me a strange kind of comfort.

I remember in reading the gospels one of the parts of Jesus' story that resonated most with me was him wrestling in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was arrested. Just imagining him being scared and uncertain and agonizing in the dirt and just being, well, more human like me, because I've been there too, is somehow encouraging, because if that's God, or a representative of God, or even just a very good man, maybe it's okay for me to be scared and uncertain and to agonize in the dirt too, because maybe I'm not alone in that.

One of the things that Fred Rogers is famous for saying is 'I like you just the way you are'. In the podcast Finding Fred, the podcast host, who greatly admires Fred Rogers, sometimes expressed struggling with that idea, being a black man who has experienced a lot of racism, and also being someone who has been mistreated in a lot of ways by others throughout his life, he wondered how he could like someone just as they were when, well, there was so much wrong with some people out there. One of his guests on the show, another admirer of Fred Rogers, suggested that what Rogers meant by 'I like you just the way you are' wasn't that everyone was perfect in every way, nor that everyone's words or actions or choices should be condoned, let alone praised, or that people didn't need to learn or grow in different ways, but rather that underneath all the dirt and the muck of our imperfection, our imperfect words and actions and choices, and no matter how deeply buried, there is something of value, something of worth, some spark of the divine in us, which can never be completely destroyed, and no matter how much others, or even we ourselves, may try to.

Of course, much like the host of the podcast, many of us struggle with seeing that that is true of those whom many of us would call 'monsters', the murderers and abusers and tyrants of this world, the worst of the worst if you will, but then it appears that Rogers was able to look at people even like that and see something of value and worth in them, seeing something of beauty beneath all of the ugliness, or at least the potential for it anyway.

I think of another man that many could think of as a saint, named Daryl Davis, who is a black man that has made it his mission to try to befriend members of hate groups, including members of the KKK, not in a concerted effort to convert them to his way of seeing things necessarily but simply to give them something to think about through their just knowing him. He has helped many to walk away from the KKK and other such groups simply by extending the hand of friendship to them, and he challenges others to try to break down divides by seeing the humanity in others, including those who are different from us, or even those who hurt us or frighten us.

I also think of Fred Phelps, who was the founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, and who has become an icon of religious hate to many, and what his granddaughter Megan wrote about him in her memoir Unfollowed, how even though to most people he was a terrible human being, even a monster, to her he was her 'Gramps', whom she loved dearly even if looking back she knows that he got a lot of things wrong, and she spoke of how towards the end of his life when he was falling into dementia that he softened considerably, and even to the point that his own church effectively excommunicated him and abandoned him in a retirement home, where Megan and her younger sister Grace, who had recently left the church (and at great personal sacrifice to themselves), snuck in without permission from their family to see him one last time, and Megan says he was mostly lucid at that time, and instead of reproaching them for having left the church he only expressed his love for them in the end. It seems that at the end of his life Fred Phelps didn't cling to his dogma and hate so much as his relationships and love, which is encouraging.

Fred Rogers (the other Fred if you will), whom Fred Phelps himself often mocked as 'a wuss and an enabler of wusses' among other things, even going so far as to protest at his funeral, would have been proud I think that Phelps had come so far at the end, and I am sure he would have said to him 'I like you just the way you are' and I think the humanity buried even in someone like Phelps was what Rogers was pointing to by saying that to everyone he encountered.

Frank Schaeffer spoke of his mother, Edith Schaeffer, in his book Sex, Mom, and God, in much the same way, even going so far as to say that even being straitjacketed by the limitations of her religion and its dogma she was a force of nature and he could see her humanity shine through throughout her life, especially towards the end when, as Fred Phelps did, she softened, and said that ultimately she was better than her beliefs, or that something in her, her humanity, rose above that.

And maybe that humanity, or that divine spark, or whatever you want to call it, was also what Jesus was pointing to and trying to call out, and whether that be in the everyman on the street, or in the seemingly irreparably damaged people that you may find in prisons (or even sometimes in governments) or even among the religious who can get so mired in their ideology and self-righteousness as to forget that spark within them or in others.

It may seem nigh impossible, if not flatly impossible, to live up the standard of what many of us think of as saviors or saints, but I think of a scene in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood where Roger's wife Joanne says that 'Rodg' (as she affectionately called him) wouldn't want people to think of him as a saint, as he believed that anyone and everyone could walk the path that he walked, or at least tried to walk, and in their own special way.

I also think of how Jesus said to his disciples that they would do even greater things than him, which when you think of the kind of example that someone like Jesus set, namely one where you are willing to die for what you believe in and stand for, that seems like a pretty tall order, but it makes me wonder if, as controversial as this may be and contrary to popular and widespread religious opinion that has been built up around him for centuries, maybe Jesus wouldn't want us to think of him as a savior anymore than Fred Rogers would want us to think of him as a saint, because maybe instead of putting them up on pedestals we're meant to try and follow their example as best we can.

I remember one of the guests in the Finding Fred podcast saying that maybe instead of just looking back on Rogers and his example with admiration and nostalgia, we could also try to be like Fred Rogers ourselves, much as those who seek to follow the way of Jesus (which Rogers himself was trying to follow) instead of just looking back can try to be like him as much as they are able, and in their own special way.

With it being Easter today as I post this, I honestly don't know whether or not Jesus rose from the dead, heck I am not even one hundred percent sure if he even existed (as there are those who argue that he didn't, even if most historians would agree that he did, though most of them think that most of what was written about him was just fanciful legend that was built up around him, which may or may not be the case, because none of us can really know for sure on that since we weren't there, and unless we invent time travel or something it will continue to be a matter of faith, and faith alone), but then I am willing to keep something of an open mind about it, and even with where I am now I can still understand why many look to Jesus as a symbol of hope and the love of God, and why people see something meaningful in the story of his life, death, and resurrection because even if it may not be literally true (and again on that front it is a matter of faith), that doesn’t mean it isn’t mythically true. Whatever the case, I believe that his example and message of kindness and empathy lives on (even if one has to dig through a number of inconsistencies and mistranslations to find it), much as Fred Rogers’ similar example and message lives on.

And I guess this brings me back to 'everything that's going on', and the question of what it means to be human.

One of the things that a lot of people have been saying through this crisis that all of us in the world are facing is that 'we're all in this together' and I think it's safe to say that there's nothing quite like a pandemic to remind us of how much we value our relationships when we are having to keep our distance from others, including those we love, for our good and theirs, and when we are fearing for not only our own health and our own life but also for the health and lives of others.

I recently watched the film Contagion, which came out about ten years ago, and many are seeing it as eerily prophetic as much of the film parallels what is happening now, but one of the underlying messages of that film, as one of my favorite Youtubers, Like Stories Of Old, pointed out, is how much our relationships matter, how much those connections that can so easily be taken for granted matter, when we are faced with existential threats such as the one we seem to be faced with now. More likely than not, as in Contagion, this pandemic, as bad as it may get, will not be the end the world, but it is certainly shaking it up and it appears it will continue to do so for awhile, and in the midst of that all we have for sure is eachother, even if we can only be there for one another mostly at a distance and in spirit.

In A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood there was a moving scene where Rogers says concerning death and how difficult it is to talk about it that 'anything that is mentionable is manageable', and I think the same applies to the situation we are in now, we can face this and face it together, because we're not alone in this mess, not alone in the dirt, even as lonely as it may feel at times.

Our situation is also a reminder (and is another theme in Contagion) of how connected we all are, especially in this globalized world that we now live in. A friend of mine here on Tumblr was telling me in a recent message how this whole situation shows how interconnected we all are, and how every choice we make can impact those around us and can have a domino effect, even having effects, whether positive or negative, that we aren't even aware of.

What he said reminds me of this passage from the classic children's book Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, which I finished reading for the first time just a couple days ago, where there is this exchange between the book's chief protagonist Milo, accompanied by his loyal companions Tock and Humbug, and the princesses Rhyme and Reason:

“It has been a long trip,” said Milo, climbing onto the couch where the princesses sat; “but we would have been here much sooner if I hadn’t made so many mistakes. I’m afraid it’s all my fault.” “You must never feel badly about making mistakes,” explained Reason quietly, “as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons.” “But there’s so much to learn,” he said, with a thoughtful frown. “Yes, that’s true,” admitted Rhyme; “but it’s not just learning things that’s important. It’s learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters.” “That’s just what I mean,” explained Milo as Tock and the exhausted bug drifted quietly off to sleep. “Many of the things I’m supposed to know seem so useless that I can’t see the purpose in learning them at all.” “You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes round the world; when a speck of dust falls to the ground, the entire planet weighs a little more; and when you stamp your foot, the earth moves slightly off its course. Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in a pond; and whenever you’re sad, no one anywhere can be really happy. And it’s much the same thing with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.” “And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach. But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.”

While I think the main themes of The Phantom Tollbooth are the value of education as well as how you see and experience the world around you, I think this passage could also be applied to how we learn how to live and love, and how you follow a path of kindness and empathy.

It's a process to be sure, and we will all make mistakes along the way, but as Reason says, we can learn more from being wrong for the right reasons than being right for the wrong ones, and trying to apply what we've learned as best we can and holding onto our reasons for doing so is just as important as what we learn. And there's a purpose to it, to living and loving as best we can, and it can impact the world around us, it can be like a ripple in a pond that spreads out in ways we can't know or even imagine, and who knows, maybe it will take us to places that we couldn't have even dreamed of...

Maybe that's something to try remember whenever we get discouraged (and I know I do plenty, as I’m sure most of us do), much like Fred Rogers did, and perhaps even Jesus did, and when wondering whether or not we have cared enough or given enough or lived enough or loved enough, that even seemingly little things can have a great impact and can actually make a real difference in the world.

In Fred Rogers' last television appearance after 9/11 he spoke of how his mother said in times of crisis that you should "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” I remember in the Finding Fred podcast they pointed out how in that message he was speaking to the children who are now grown ups themselves, the ones who had watched his program as they were growing up, and he was pointing to their own humanity, to that divine spark within them, and calling them to become those helpers themselves.

Even in that instance Rogers struggled, as he was so shaken by the enormity of the events of 9/11 that he felt that nothing he said could really help, and yet many, including myself at the time, even not being as familiar with Fred Rogers then as I am now, as I hadn't really watched his show growing up myself (I was more of a TMNT and Transformers kind of kid back in the 80s), were encouraged by what he had to say, and it made an impact, it made a difference. It helped.

And we can help too in our own way, and even if we too may feel shaken up by the events of our own time, these strange times that we're living in, we too can make an impact and a difference, we can help in some way, and however small and inconsequential what we may have to offer may feel, and whether it may feel decent or good or 'essential' or 'heroic' enough or not, we can help, and even if we may not know that we are helping.

As far as the answers to some of those big questions, like where we come from, why we're here, and where we're going, honestly I'm not sure what the answers may be, I mean I have some guesses, but I don't know with absolute certainty (and I'm having to learn to live without that anyway, even as I try to look forward with some hope and look back with some gratitude), but whatever it means to be human, I think it may have something to do with doing what you need to do even when you're worried and scared, with trying as much as you can to lift up others when they're down or maybe even when you're down, with the value of life and of love, with not being alone in the dirt, with seeing some measure of value and worth in jaded and cynical adults as much as you may see it in children, with extending the hand of friendship, and maybe even to those that are different from you, or looking for the humanity even in those that hurt and frighten you, with somehow loving those that others may only see as irredeemable monsters, with seeing the light in someone even if they are held back by things that limit and hem them in, with not insisting that others put us up on pedestals whenever we do some good or get something right but that they try to do the same themselves as best they can just as we are trying to do, with learning and growing in every way we can, with facing difficult times together, with trying to encourage and support and help one another, and even as imperfect as we may be and are. Maybe it has something to do with all of that.

I hope that we'll get through these strange times, that we'll not only survive them but that this may also push us to change some things for the better, that this will push us forward somehow, through death towards resurrection, that this will remind us of our humanity, that spark within us, and while I don't really know why we are in these strange times, or why 'everything that's going on' is going on, really I do hope that in the end it will move us a little closer to finding out, both for ourselves and for eachother, what it means to be human.

[only-mostlydead]

Thanks for the tag, @chaoscatty! I'm doing this as top 5 things in each category that brought me joy this year. Sticking this under a cut because I’m wordy.

Anyone who wants to do this, consider this your tag! Please share your joy!

Movies and TV: (I don’t watch a lot of movies, so I’m combining these) 1. Klaus The preview on Netflix does it absolutely no justice. This is a beautiful Christmas story but also a very human story. Prepare for tears. 2. Coco I am very bad at watching movies when they come out, so I didn’t see this until this past Halloween. Holy shit. Just beautiful. I cried so much I had to take off the sheet mask I was wearing. 3. Bob’s Burgers This show is just laughter and fun and easy watching. I will comfort watch this forever. The Belchers are always there for you.  4.. Somebody Feed Phil This show. I literally save episodes for when I’m having a bad day, and it never fails to cheer me up. Lovers of food, travel, and good vibes, this one’s for you. 5. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend This is my favorite show of all time, and I did my first full rewatch this year. It’s still my favorite portrayal of mental illness and character development. Also musical numbers. Someday there will be a stage version, and I will play Rebecca. 6. Never Have I Ever Female-driven, diverse cast, very funny, and a queer storyline to boot? Yes.  6. I Am Not Okay With This Sophia Lillis is just incredible, and I am eternally a sucker for stories about queer ladies, especially those who can blow things up with their mind. I’d like that power, thank you. 9. Schitt’s Creek Hilarious. Hands down the funniest show I’ve ever seen, set in a world where homophobia doesn’t exist? More of this please. I haven’t seen the last season yet because I am a doofus. 10. The Staircase Every winter, I go on a true crime kick. This show was wild. Honorable mention to The Keepers for the same reason.

Books: One of the rare silver linings of this year was the amount of time I had for reading. I read 47 books this year, so narrowing this down was not easy. If anyone needs recommendations, fiction or non, hit me up! 1. Homegoing - Yaa Gyasi Just a gorgeously told story. One of my favorite books I have ever read. 2. And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie I love me a good mystery, and there’s a reason she’s considered the queen. 3. So You Want to Talk About Race - Ijeoma Oluo Required reading, fellow white people.   4. The Fuck It Diet - Caroline Dooner I’ve been intentionally working towards food and body neutrality for about a year now. This book was life changing. HIGHLY recommend to anyone sick of fighting the diet culture fight. There is so much freedom on the other side. 5. I Want to be Where the Normal People Are - Rachel Bloom I read this all in one sitting. I laughed, I cried, I felt very seen as someone who grew up a weird musical theatre kid.

Music: 1. Atlas: Enneagram - Sleeping at Last This whole album is beautiful, but specifically the song “Eight” really struck me, because I’m Type 8 (and so is my Five) 2. Joy Oladokun I discovered her song “Look Up” on an acoustics playlist and got hooked on her music.  3. Beetlejuice the Musical I saw this show during it’s Broadway tryout in DC and rediscovered the OCR this year. It’s SO much fun, and now I want to play Beetlejuice. 4. The Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead scores Excellent background music, excellent ZR soundtrack. I think I was in the top 1% of fans for both Ramin Djawadi and Bear McCreary this year. 5. “Rain on Me” - Lady Gaga “I’d rather be dry, but at least I’m alive” is the most 2020 lyric. This song is joy and optimism and fighting spirit, and I listened to it 1000 times.

Good Things: 1. On National Coming Out Day, I finally came out as bisexual to some Close Friends on Instagram. I’d already told a few people, but this was my first “public” coming out. It was very freeing. 2. I had my second surgery for endometriosis, this time with a doctor who gives a damn about aftercare and lets me guide my own treatment plan (it’s a whole thing, maybe I’ll tell the story someday).  3. Zombies, Run! This app did some damn much for me. It got me out of the house during quarantine, it helped me discover my love of hiking and nature, it got me writing for the first time in years, it showed me this beautiful little community...I just love it so much. 4. I found a yoga studio that I just adore who pivoted beautifully to online and outdoor classes during the pandemic.  5. After losing the job I hated, I got more involved at the distillery where I worked part-time and am now an assistant manager. BONUS 6. I found a therapist who is wonderful and have been able to keep seeing her virtually every week. ALSO BONUS 7. Animal Crossing. 

[oneplusoneistwins]

Why I feel like I am needing extra self-care right now...

Wow I made through my second week of the 2020 Spring semester, and also my second to last semester for my undergrad. If you didn’t see my post about my 2019 Fall grades, I received two A’s and a B with 12 units (full time). I have the same expectations for my grades this semester but I am also taking an extra class, so I am at 15 units right now and I have class Mon.-Fri. My schedule is all over the place with morning, afternoon, and night classes depending on the day, so it is a little overwhelming right now. 

The girl’s first birthday party was last Saturday and it was absolutely perfect! I plan on editing and sharing some pics from the party. So many friends and family showed up and the girls were spoiled rotten with toys and clothes which I am so grateful for. To this day we have hardly had to buy clothes or toys because of family and friends. We’ve truly only had to buy essentials like food, wipes, and diapers and extra stuff if we wanted! The girls had such a good time and looked beautiful in their birthday dresses. It seemed like everyone enjoyed themselves and of course we had a taco guy come cook for us, and who can say no to tacos?! Lol. We also had a chocolate fountain which was a huge hit and plenty of alcohol to keep us all sane lol. 

This past week though was super rough. Part of it is my fault because I have been staying up way too late and haven’t been sleeping well because of it. But honestly, I think I have been staying up late due to my anxiety. Anyone ever had insomnia anxiety where you get a burst of energy at night and your mind truly won’t let you fall into a deep sleep? YEP THAT’S ME. In addition my mom was hospitalized this week for one night and she was rushed to the hospital by ambulance from her work because she had through the roof high blood pressure. The doctor’s still have no idea why. All her tests came back normal, but she is now on medication until they figure out what is exactly going on. It was really shocking for me to even think about because my mom has been extremely healthy her whole life. She has hardly been to the doctor ever. She is doing much better now but it still worries me so much. 

Lately I have been having this urge inside me to go exercise. I have been wanting to go walking or jogging to relieve some stress. Since January was a crazy month for me, I am going to try to make it a priority to exercise this month as much as I can, go to bed as early as possible, and stay on top of all my assignments for school. I also want to make it a priority to do some things for me. 

- I want to get a pedicure ASAP.

- In deep need of a haircut and color (something new and fresh) !

- Work on self care everyday: making a healthy meal, drinking extra water, having tea before bed, reading a book, doing face masks, putting on tanning lotion, taking a bath, and worrying less about the little things

- My husband and I are also due for a date night. We really need some time for ourselves. We’ve had a movie gift certificate since Christmas and we still have not used it. WE NEED TO. 

I have totally been taking my anxiety out on him and I need to stop doing that. He is the love of my life and I need to remember that. I need to find ways to communicate how I am feeling without yelling or truly sounding like a bitch. Don’t get me wrong, I like being a bitch when I need to... but half the time I really don’t need to. We need to respect each other and our roles as husband and wife and as mom and dad. 

It is not freaking easy finding a balance. But if I sit down to write a blog post and spew out all the things I’m hopeful for, then I know I am at least getting somewhere right? 

Overall, I am so grateful for this new year. I am graduating college this year and Nick and I have many plans for our future with our girls. Thank you if you made it this far! I truly appreciate all the love. 

Sincerely,

beyond exhausted and extremely hopeful twinsie mama 

[deeahhnuh]

2019!

I've done this year-in-review thing since 2007! 2007-2012 are over on my old LiveJournal, and 2013-on are right here on my Tumblr. :)

2020. 2020! That year sounds space-age or something lol, and not like it's just, well, tomorrow. Happy New Year, Tumblr!

What did you do in 2019 that you'd never done before?

Not too much, lol! I guess I just kept doing the things I usually do, but tried to do them better/improve them (when it comes to work!), or do more of them (fun times and family times!).

Did you keep your New Years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Every year I mention that I don't really make New Year's resolutions - more like little goals all year! - but hey, it's a new decade! This year I think I will make a resolution that I will hold myself to. In 2020, I resolve to work hard - like really hard - on being healthy! Eat right, exercise, lose weight, work on maintaining less stress - be good to myself! I know everyone makes that kind of resolution, but it's a good one for a reason. :)

Did anyone close to you give birth?

Aw, no new babies this year!

Did anyone close to you die?

Sadly, yes... my uncle (my dad's oldest brother) passed away in May. ♥ We also lost a beloved neighbor in August.

What countries did you visit?

Lol, none!

What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019?

I seemed to lack the ability to chill this year, haha - I stressed out about everything! :O So I’m ready to go with the flow better in 2020!

What date(s) from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Can’t think of any big dates, but this December marked 5 years since I graduated (and gave a speech at the departmental ceremony, to toot my own horn lol!) from the University of Maryland! Time is bizarre - 5 years feels both forever ago and also not that far back!

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I’ve been working in the registrar’s office at a community college for three years now! I love it, and I’m proud of the work I do!! :)

What was your biggest failure?

Everything’s a learning experience of course lol, but thankfully I didn’t goof too bad this year! ;)

Did you suffer illness or injury?

Oh my goodness, I started off the year with a thumping in my right ear (the name for it is “pulsatile tinnitus” - which somehow makes it sound scary!). :O Happily, that mess dissipated in a few months’ time, but it sure did worry (and annoy) me! Other than that - all good! :)

What was the best thing you bought?

I was very fortunate this year to buy a few things that really made me smile!

I do love a perfume! Dior Addict is a stunning, spicy vanilla (I love ‘em sweet!) that really hits the spot.

I’m also pleased, on the “I stan goofy dance music” front, to have found a couple of old Ministry of Sound compilations that I’ve had bookmarked on Amazon for awhile - they came back in stock this year and I snatched ‘em up. Anthems Sound of Dubstep (2012) is brash and obnoxious fun, and Sessions Ten (2013) is slightly less brash but just as obnoxious so I love it. They’re both releases from the Australian arm of MOS!

Oh and one of my fave used record stores had a copy of one of DJ Rap’s “Bad Girl” CD singles with mixes I didn’t have; I was kinda shocked to see it and very very happy to buy it! It was only 99 cents. Wow!! I do like a ridiculous deal! :)

Whose behavior merited celebration?

My mom is amazing, as always, and so are my dad and brother! I love my fam!!

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

No one!

Where did most of your money go?

See above - my more frivolous spending went toward perfume and goofy dance tunes, haha!

What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I will never, ever forget opening a very special present for Christmas this year. I love and adore It’s a Wonderful Life, and I even wrote a paper about it in college. I used a fabulous book as one of my sources - The It’s a Wonderful Life Book by Jeanine Basinger - and since then I’ve always had it in the back of my mind to purchase it someday. It’s a fantastic keepsake kinda thing for a fan of the movie. Unfortunately it always seemed to be out of stock, or way too expensive to consider, so over time I kind of just put it on the back burner.

But just a few days ago on Christmas morning as we all opened gifts, I tore wrapping paper off a box, pulled off the box top, and bam - there it was. Decorative tissue paper obscured it, but I could see the book cover peeking through - The It’s a Wonderful Life Book! My mama, the best mama, found this awesome book for me! My Christmas - my year! - was made! ♥

What song will always remind you of 2019?

Here’s a Spotify playlist of the songs that I loved this year; most are old releases lol. New(er) songs and albums I loved this year:

“Like Sugar” by Chaka Khan. Funky!

“Lost in the Fire” by Gesaffelstein feat. The Weeknd. Cool and atmospheric!

“Lights Up” by Harry Styles. Boy band guy makes good lol! Great tune.

Mazy Fly (2019) by SPELLLING. Dark, richly layered, weird, beautiful.

The Destroyer - 1 and The Destroyer - 2 (2019) by TR/ST. Two EP-ish releases that make up a whole album-ish listen. The Destoyer - 1 slightly edges out the second release, but I just like hearing so much synthy TR/ST goodness!

Compared to this time last year (2018), are you:

Doin' all right, and hopeful for a great start to 2020!

What do you wish you'd done more of?

Listen to more albums - new or old! The last few years I seem to listen to a handful of albums a year, then spend the rest of my music-listening time playing dance music compilations. Ah well, maybe I'll catch up on my massive "to listen" list in the next decade lol!

What do you wish you'd done less of?

Stress (see above lol) - but I'm def working on it! :)

How did you spend Christmas?

Family time!! ♥

What was the most embarrassing thing that happened to you in 2019?

Nothing, yay lol!

How many one-night stands?

None lol

What was your favorite TV program?

My silly cartoons! Family Guy, American Dad, Bob's Burgers, and SpongeBob SquarePants (lol idk, nostalgia is hard to kick!) still make me laugh even though I am otherwise a perfectly reasonable adult. :)

Bravo's Real Housewives - all of 'em! - crack me up and bring the totally ridiculous drama!

The Orville is fantastic, one of my fave more recent shows. I love the cast! Each episode really adds to their stories and builds the show's world. Looking forward to the next season!

Emergence is a great new sci-fi show with a strong cast - especially the sensible, big-hearted lead Allison Tolman - and suspenseful storyline!

I haven't seen the first season, and to be honest I don't think I'd be able to explain what the heck it's actually about because I'm easily confused, but American Gods caught my attention this year! The cast is excellent - even if the plot escaped me, lol, I really got into the characters.

And What We Do In The Shadows! Such a delight!!

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2019?

I love a classic, slightly minimal style, but I'm just happy to look decently put-together lol!

What kept you sane?

My fam, my entertainment stuff (music, movies, TV, magazines), working with wonderful colleagues... ♥

Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

No! :O

What was the best book you read in 2019?

The It’s a Wonderful Life Book was probably the best book I read (well, most of it!) this decade. ♥

What was your greatest musical discovery?

SPELLLING is awesome - definitely an artist I'm excited to hear more from!!

What did you want and get?

I won't say The It’s a Wonderful Life Book again! :)

On a more serious note, I had my first MRIs in a while for MS maintenance - my previous neurologist retired and my new doctor wanted to get a baseline. I was very, very anxious about getting the results. My former doctor last ordered an MRI in 2011, so this was definitely a good and highly necessary step, but very nerve-wracking! I'm so fortunate to not be experiencing symptoms - and haven't since my initial occurrence of optic neuritis in '09 (though I was actually diagnosed with MS in 2011) - but what might the MRIs (brain and T- and C-spine) reveal?

I wanted to receive good results - a report of stability, not progression. And would you believe it? I did. My (amazing!) neurologist gave me the greatest news I had all year - stable, no new lesions, all good!! Of course this is for now - who knows about the future? - but I'm thrilled, and thankful. As this year ends and I reflect on all the good, this takes the cake!!

What did you want and not get?

Pffft, nothin' lol! I've got so many lovely things and reasons to be thankful - who could ask for more?!

What was your favorite film of this year?

Lol I did not see many new movies, but of the '19 films I saw, my fave was Knives Out! I only just saw it yesterday - what a fun way to close out the year! Fantastic cast, clever story, funny - just all-around entertainment.

I also loved Yesterday. All the Beatles references and the obvious affection for the group and their fans just felt like a great big hug! So good!

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

Girl I'm well and truly a thirty-something now - 33!! I had fun! I did lots of little fun things with my fam - like shopping, watching movies, that kind of good stuff!

What three things would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Like I said above - who could ask for more? Not me! :)

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I'm late to the David Harbour bandwagon - but better late than never!

And also Daniel Craig in Knives Out was a good thing.

What political issue stirred you the most?

Ew, there's something stirring like every hour or so.

Who did you miss?

Losing my grandmother at the end of last year really colored a lot of this year... and then losing my uncle added more shadows. ♥♥♥

What is a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019?

I always answer this one with a twist on the Pet Shop Boys song title and my life philosophy - "Happiness is an option." So here we go! The chorus of the song acknowledges that "it is not easy," and some times are definitely like that. This year had those moments, and next year will too, because that's how life is! It is often not easy.

But! The last bit of the chorus follows "it is not easy" with "happiness is an option." Things can stink, but they can be okay too. That's what "happiness is an option" has always meant to me, and it means that just as much this year. Maybe even more!!

What quote can be used to sum up your year?

See above haha! "Happiness is an option” has been my fave quote for years, and I’m gonna keep on living it! :)

[woodworkingpastor]

Many Persons – One Body -- Acts 6:1-7 -- April 18, 2021 -- Third Sunday of Easter

The Lord is risen!

He is risen indeed!

We tend to focus our holiday attention on the lead up to the event, which means we move on from them too quickly. We don’t want to move on too quickly from Easter. Just as we spent the 40 days of Lent preparing for the death and resurrection of Jesus, we want to be aware of this time between Jesus’ resurrection and ascension.

What might ask ourselves, what date defines our time? September 11, 2001? Those who are deeply concerned about the rise of mass-casualty shootings in America often name December 14, 2012—the date of the Sandy Hook shooting—as significant because of how little impact the mass murder of 20 first graders had on our attitude toward guns. How about 2020 in general?

For the church, events that happened in 33 AD are what governs our time and our thinking. How do we live today in light of what happened in 33 AD? Please pray with me:

Lord, help us to see:

to see what is eternally good and true,

and having seen, to go on searching

until we come to the joys of heaven.

This we ask through Jesus Christ our Redeemer, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever. Amen.

Practitioners of the Kingdom of God

We have followed the Narrative Lectionary through the Gospel of Luke since the Sunday before Christmas, simply taking the assigned text as it comes to us. We’re approaching the end of this year’s Narrative Lectionary cycle with three Sundays in the Book of Acts and then three more in Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Acts is helpful to us as we learn how to live in light of 33 AD. Acts provides glimpses into how the early Christians were practitioners of the Kingdom of God in the years following Jesus’ resurrection.

That word “practitioners” is an interesting one; you’ve probably heard the quip about not wanting to go to a doctor who is only “practicing” medicine, you want one who knows what he or she is doing! Of course, that’s not what the word means. To be a “practitioner” is to be one who is actively engaged in an art, discipline, or profession. So in this sense we see the early church “practicing” Christianity in the sense that they are actively engaged in what it means to follow Jesus in a particular time and place.

Their constant focus—which was also an opportunity and a struggle—was to follow the Spirit’s leading to bring all persons into the body of Christ. Acts 6:1-7 shows us the kinds of situations we will encounter as practitioners of the Kingdom of God. Just a chapter before today’s passage, we read a description of a church where there are no needy people.

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold (Acts 4:32-34).

But when we arrive at Acts 6 we find that the relationships in the church have gotten a bit more complicated:

Now during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number, the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food (Acts 6:1).

Here, we find the church does have needy people in it, and the needs of those persons aren’t being met—they might even be overlooked or ignored. Acts does not view the early church through rose-colored glasses; in today’s text we find that the church is experiencing some growing pains. It’s not clear if this is more of an administrative problem or more of a racial problem—it’s probably a combination of the two.

What seems clear is that this is an entirely believable problem because even as the practice of our faith moves us to be more like Jesus, our stubborn human nature is still with us. As we learn to view one another though Kingdom-colored lenses, our vision remains tainted with our old fallenness. Acts 6 describes a church comprised of people who are racial, cultural, and economic strangers to one another. As such, they struggle with the sin of partiality—they show favoritism based on earthly characteristics.

James wrote about the sin of partiality in his letter:

My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? (James 2:1-4).

The temptation is to relate to people based on appearances and categories. But in the Kingdom, we seek to see things made whole.

It would be somewhat easy to be an armchair quarterback here and criticize the church of Acts 6 for their struggle to enjoy renewed relationships across ethnic and economic boundaries. But what we see in this passage is exactly the kind of thing we ought to expect when we are doing our job! When the church is more than just a comfortable place for the already committed but is instead a place where people encounter the resurrected Jesus and accept his invitation to take up their cross and follow, then we will encounter the messiness of transformation, because life in Jesus is different from life in the world.

In the Church of the Brethren, I regularly encounter this clash of values in the new members class when we do the lesson on Biblical non-resistance (the peace position). No one ever objects to the lesson on prayer, or mission, or Oak Grove’s history. But when it comes to the Church of the Brethren belief that war is sin, people start to get uncomfortable, not because people believe war is good, but because we have been shaped to believe it is sometimes necessary. In that lesson we encounter a place where what the world teaches and what the Gospel teaches are quite different. My response is always the same, “we are not asking you to affirm this to become a member of our church. But we absolutely believe that if you hang around with us long enough, Jesus will change your mind.”

Overcoming the old with the new

The church of Acts 6 had two simultaneous tasks: seeing many people come to faith in Jesus and overcoming old thinking. Their response is two-fold.

First, they empower those bringing the complaint to look among themselves and appoint leaders to address the issue. But not just anyone is to be selected; the ones called deacons are to be

of good standing [and] full of the Spirit and of wisdom (Acts 6:3)

Deacon ministry may be primarily focused on the administrative task of food distribution, but it remains a leadership position where the most qualified persons for the job are the ones who were likely already functioning in that role.

From these beginnings, the church has long prioritized deacon ministry. Writing late in the first century, early church leader Ignatius of Antioch said of deacons

It is necessary that those who are deacons of the mysteries of Jesus Christ please everyone in every respect. For they are not merely deacons of food and drink, but ministers of God’s church. Therefore they must avoid criticism as though it were fire.

But Ignatius had something to say about deacon ministry to the rest of us, too:

Similarly, let everyone respect the deacons as Jesus Christ, just as they should respect the bishop, who is a model of the Father and the presbyters and God’s council and as the band of the apostles.

This is necessary because deacon ministry demonstrates that power and authority in the church is not practiced by having control over people; Godly leadership invests in serving the people on the bottom of societal structures. The church of Acts 6 had encountered a very believable problem where the church’s growth had outpaced the maturity of its members. Deacons are appointed because the church is to be a visible demonstration of the kingdom of God. We are to literally structure ourselves to value the most vulnerable in our midst. Not just tolerate or make accommodations for, but actually structure ourselves in this fashion.

In some ways we recognize the importance of this by our presence outside the sanctuary; in these days of pandemic we realize the most important question for us is “not where I want to worship” but “how do we need to structure our worship to protect and honor the most vulnerable in our midst?” How we respond to situations like these—be they food distribution in Acts 6 or our own need for deacons in our day have an administrative component to them, but they are ultimately questions of how we are practitioners of the kingdom of God.

There is a second reason why the apostles call for deacons to be appointed:

we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word (Acts 6:4)

The division of labor in the church recognizes the importance of prayer, discipleship, and the proclamation of the word of God. The apostles maintain their focus on bringing people into the family because as I’ve noted, the church is not just a comfortable place for the committed, it is an outward-focused community working to reconcile all things under the lordship of Christ. Prayer and scripture are the primary means through which we will overcome things like the sin of partiality which leads us to treat people according to the patterns and categories of this world, or to accept the inevitability of war as the only option simply because earthly kingdoms lack the ability to find other solutions to the problems that face us. Prayer and scripture are the places where our lives are transformed and we live into these days of resurrection where our lives are shaped by the events of 33 AD, not the events of 9/11/01 or 12/14/12 or 2020 or any other date, or time, or ideology.

It is in this context of this kind or church where we read

The word of God continued to spread; the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith (Acts 6:7).

Even unlikely people—like Jewish priests—came to see the truth about Jesus and chose to have their lives defined by 33AD. On a day when we install new deacons to serve among us—and to be highly respected by each of us—may the practice of our faith also be like that of the early church where even the unlikeliest of people find their lives shaped through prayer, Scripture, and the overcoming of sin. Let us practice our faith together with great enthusiasm and great joy.

[thegoditwasbuiltfor]

Homeschooling

I first became a parent 16 years ago, in 2004.  When I was considering all the avenues available to benefit my parental style, I had briefly considered homeschooling, among other decisions such as only feeding my baby non-packaged foods I had prepared myself and using cloth diapers.  Like most parents, I was ambitious and wanted the best for my baby, and I was willing to jump through incredibly tiny, flaming hoops to make that happen.  However, as I went week by week, month by month with my eldest child through the stages of infancy, I quickly realized that some decisions, unlike others, were big steps in completely different directions, and many of these choices were unnecessarily exorbitant.

Lo and behold, I didn’t feed my baby only non-packaged foods (and I couldn’t have even if I wanted to; she didn’t particularly prefer my homemade foods to the ones that came in jars and boxes), I didn’t use cloth diapers, and I decided early on that homeschooling was for parents who had the privilege of staying home, which I did not.  It wasn’t that I considered any of those choices impossible to make happen, or even that I didn’t consider myself one of “those” kinds of parents--I did, and I do.  But the truth is, some things were just too difficult to make happen, and in some cases would have been detrimental to my finances and daily routine.  Long story short, I made the less-popular choice to favour my time and money.  Go ahead and call me an asshole.

For almost a decade, and two more kids later, the basic system of frugality and time-saving I had created for my family’s day-to-day life was working efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.  The kids had a routine that included going to daycare, before-and-after, and/or school.  And for the duration of the decade, my kids excelled in school, easily bringing home A’s and B’s without much trouble.  I can probably count on one hand the number of times I had to sit down and help a kid with homework.

So in 2013, when we were planning my son, I had no reason to think that my system wouldn’t continue to be effective for a further decade.  And when my son was born the following year, I had given less than 10 seconds thought to how his education would begin and end, because public schooling had always worked for us.  I returned to work within the year of his birth (and quit shortly after), I had a great time jumping from one daycare to another, including the part where I had to sue a provider.  By the time my son was in a comfortable childcare facility, the only question left was which of the many schools in the neighbourhood he would attend.

In the end, I let old habits take over.  I made an appointment at the school my eldest daughter had attended to have my son enrolled.  I vividly remember sitting him down at a table full of legos right outside the office as I filled out the paperwork.  I was handed a flyer for a Kindergarten “Meet and Greet” which was held a few weeks later, and we went on our way.  We met with the Kindergarten teacher and several other parents of school-aged children who would be starting at the same time as my boy.  The evening was a success, but of course my system had predictably ensured me of that.

When it was time to start school, my son was nervous (and so was I, does that ever get any easier?), but he marched in like the big boy that he is and didn’t even shed a tear.  He had a great day, and couldn’t wait to go back.  By the end of the week, he was praising his teacher as the greatest human being on Earth.  By the end of the month, half of the kids in his class were his “best friends” and he was thrilled, overall, with his experience.  By the time parent-teacher meetings rolled around in November, he was quite comfortable and knew his way around the place like he had been there his whole life.  His teacher had nothing but good things to tell me about his progress and behaviour.  All was well, as I had always expected it to be.

It was 2019, and we were home over Christmas break, enjoying some much-needed family time and we briefly discussed an illness sweeping through China.  Boy, were we in for a treat.

When school resumed, all went back to normal, and for 2 months, we had no issues.  Sometime before the new year, things were going so smoothly we had even added both swimming on Tuesdays, and Karate on Thursdays to our schedule.  In January, thinking I was ahead of the curve, I signed my son up for two more activities: Soccer in the spring, and Karate Camp over March break.

By February, as everyone in North America already knows, the proverbial shit had hit the fan: SARS-CoV-2 had reached us and was beginning to spread.  It’s spread began slowly, and I had not yet registered the thought that it was coming for Canada.  We went ahead with our daily lives like nothing had changed.  So I remember the confusion and general disbelief in March as the school had sent out letters stating that the government was considering a provincial shutdown of schools just ahead of Spring Break.  Teachers scrambled to put together take-home packages of work, and even though a date was set as the “last day” of school, mid-way through the week, less than half of the kids were showing up, and my son was one of only two students to attend over those last few days.  

I spoke with the other mom and we both agreed to keep our kids home over the remaining days, since no one else would be there, and I went back to the school the next day to pick up a work package.  At that time, the thought of homeschooling my son for a couple of extra weeks felt like child’s play.  I had no issue going over simple words and math, reading, and playing games for a while.  

Eventually Spring Break simply became the end of the school year, children did not reattend at all for the remainder of the year, and some teachers had put together remote learning programs.  Since my son was in Kindergarten, I wasn’t terribly worried about it, I figured everything would be back to normal by the following school year.  For the second time in my carefully-cultivated plan, I was wrong.

We spent our summer in the usual way: trips to the beach, birthdays, playdates, and camping.  We were being cautious and avoided spending time with too many people, but at that time the numbers were still very low.  Back then, everything was still open, people were still coming and going without issue and the spread of Covid simply didn’t exist in my province.  We wore masks and socially distanced when we went out, but the threat of catching the virus was minimal, we had fewer than 10 cases province-wide and no deaths.  And those numbers had held for several months.

By August 2020, our numbers had climbed exponentially and there was no going back.  It was then that my husband spoke to us about being extra careful.  He encouraged me to do as much of my shopping as possible online, and to simply avoid leaving the house at all.  It became clear that we could no longer see our friends, go to the park, have a shopping day at the mall, or even go in-store to buy groceries.  My son and I were shut in, isolated from everyone, and quite suddenly it was like our world had gone dark.  In the coming months, we couldn’t even visit with family, we cancelled Halloween and Christmas, and New years.  But before even those things, the biggest change in both our lives was the sudden realization that he would not be returning to school at all.

August brought not only high numbers of infection, but also the seemingly unavoidable fact that I would be homeschooling my son.  The numbers were getting higher, but the Government of Canada was already tired of shelling out the CERB payment and it was becoming clear that businesses were expected to reopen and children were expected to return to school as if nothing was wrong.  Though the Government was preaching safety, their reopening plan felt very flawed, and by this point I was terrified of anyone in my family getting sick.  I didn’t want to expose my little boy to a virus that would almost certainly kill him, being an asthmatic child, and having a history of being sickly.

I contacted the school in the final weeks of August to ask them what their options were, regarding Covid, and if, like other schools, they were offering some sort of remote learning.  The school informed us that remote learning was reserved for children who were ill and had a doctor’s note, but since I was not leaving the house to get said note, we would not be able to provide this.  I simply decided the best course of action would be to prepare for homeschooling.  I had no idea how to do this, since I had decided some 15 years previous to simply not do it, and I didn’t have a clue where to begin.  Searching up as much information as I could, I found out that registering your child with the government as “homeschooled” was a good first step, so I did that.  I also researched some programs online that would offer curriculum-based education and some books for children in my son’s grade.  

I learned that there is virtually no support, outside of the odd website here and there with a handful of basic assignments or worksheets, for parents who homeschool.  The curriculum was confusing and I had no friends who homeshooled so I didn’t have anyone to ask.  There was no simple answer.  I literally went into this with very little planning, and no idea what the hell I was doing.  I bought a workbook on Amazon and paid for a couple of programs.  At the time, I felt like I had done everything in my power to prepare my son for a successful grade 1 year, and initially still believed that we would return to school within a couple of months.  The “flatten the curve” ideal was nice, and I clung to it, like a drowning person to a life preserver.  For a third time, I was wrong.

By December, we were already running out of work to do, I was out hundreds of dollars for paper, ink, supplies, books, and programs, and I was hitting a wall.  The holidays put me in a terrible place, mentally and emotionally, and I crashed.  I had a breakdown and struggled to hold on to the motivation to continue teaching my son at home.  Though we were still spending the week doing schoolwork, it really felt like we spent most of our days distracted, watching TV, going for short walks, and playing video games.  Lunch break had stretched over those few months from 30 minutes into several hours, some days, and often I would just declare the day dead, and give up.  My son’s motivation was also waning, despite his young age, he simply didn’t have much interest in writing a journal entry or playing one of the learning games I was shelling out a monthly fee for.  

At one point, I decided we would take a month off to enjoy a nice long break, and hit the books hard when we came back.  Our recommencing was soft and bleak, to no surprise.  Even though the work was interesting and full of information, the book was colourful and fun, even though I added a mandatory “Hump Day, Fun Day” each week where we would do a craft or have a scavenger hunt, even though my son’s work was good and showed he was learning--we were just tired.  We were tired of staying home, we were tired of never seeing any of our friends or family, we were tired of just doing the same crap over and over again everyday.  It had become monotonous and exhausting for either of us to keep it up.

By February, we had become resigned to our task and were doing the work involved, and were maybe feeling a bit better, but we weren’t any more enthusiastic about it.  We had finished most of the workbook and were practically spending the whole day reading.  The truth is, my son already has most of the grade 1 skills laid out in the curriculum, so teaching him really wasn’t even difficult.  But by this point, I had accepted that homeschooling, while possible, was not my skillset and I had no intention of continuing this into 2022.  As an old dog, learning this new trick was too difficult.  Even with Covid raging, as it still is now, in March, I have made the difficult decision to go back to an almost-normal life.

Discussing this with my son proved frightening to him, but I told him that the cases in our country really don’t show a lot of little kids getting terribly sick and that I really didn’t think it was a risk for him.  I also decided that part of the issue is the fact that I have never been well-suited to being a stay at home mom, which I have now been doing against my better judgement for most of 7 years.  My son is very attached to me, and I love that, but it was time for him to discover other people and places a while ago, and realizing that Covid is deterring him (and myself) from living a normal life has been a big pill to swallow.  While I still have a great appreciation and understanding of how dangerous this virus is, I decided that my son is returning to school for grade 2 in the fall, and I will be returning to work.  

In the meantime, we are taking small steps to increase our exposure to the world.  We have been isolated for so long that even a simple walk around the block sometimes has us feeling stuffy and unwell the next day, and we have to retrain our immune systems not to overreact to everything outside of our house.  We have resumed seeing one friend and several family members, despite restrictions.  I’m sure some people will consider this inappropriate, and I understand that.  But after everything that has happened over the following year, including several deadly events and a case of Covid for my 87 year old grandmother (whom I could not see or even speak to), I am not losing anymore time with my family.  I am not jumping in with both feet and eyes closed, I am taking careful steps to ensure safety and I am being cautious, still wearing a mask and socially distancing.  But I have decided that this life of loneliness is not okay long-term for me or my son, and I have no intention of living like a hermit crab for the rest of my life, and my son having no friends or outside connections going into his next years of life.  Sorry, but not sorry.

For the first few months, the constant stream of news on my television promised “we will get through this,” and “we will flatten the curve.”  But I have come to the realization that Covid is here to stay.  We didn’t follow the protocols (worldwide) quickly enough to eradicate this illness, and as a result there is no “going back to normal”, we have to accept that this is our “new normal”, as has been stated almost constantly, but I don’t know that everyone is really on the same page as to what that means.  I still see and hear people talking about “when things go back to normal” as if the “new normal” is temporary.  I’m not here writing this shit to convince anyone else, just stating that I am personally decided that I have to go ahead in my own life, and allow my son to go ahead in his, armed with the idea that things will never be like they were before, and that trying to fight this the way we were doing, by literally never seeing anyone or going anywhere, was a great solution for a while and now it’s not.

In closing, I am hopeful of my future, I have plans I want to put into action and I am hoping we are not going to be permanently inconvenienced by Covid, but ultimately, I can’t wait to start living my life again, even with the mask and sanitizer glued to me at all times.  I intend to enjoy the rest of this year, even in small amounts, and I hope everyone else stays safe and does the same.  Understanding that Covid will not be gone anytime soon, even with this vaccine, we have to learn to live in this new life.