#oh he also told me that there's a famous historical figure in the anime and today my guess was kepler and that's allegedly my closest guess

[froggo-friend]

My boss recommended I watch Escaflowne part 2

[deadorcaffeinated]

Sparks, Pt. 4

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Chapter Summary: You get ready to confront the God of Mischief. But are you ready for that?

A/N: Finally, a bit more Loki.

TW: Eating

After a year consisting mostly of isolation and non-consensual experimentation, it was strange, to say the least, to have people actually give a shit about your well-being.

Shortly after Fury called the meeting to a close, Nat took you to a sort of staff room, oddly normal for a ship like this. State of the art, but with all the basic workings of a regular office’s staff room.

“You must be starving,” she said, pulling some things out of an impressive reach-in refrigerator. “Sandwich? I make a mean ham and cheese.”

Your stomach suddenly let out a worrying growl, and you winced.

“Sounds fantastic, actually,” you realized you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten. The lab hadn’t exactly been feeding you five star meals.

A comfortable silence settled into the room while Natasha assembled the sandwich. The quiet sounds of her work lulled you into a sort of trance, as you stared at the wall, and definitely didn’t think about how an agent of a secret organization was preparing you lunch on a giant aircraft carrier thousands of feet in the air which was also occupied by two gods, a historic super soldier, and the most famous tech genius in the world.

No. You didn’t think about it at all.

She presented you with her finished product and a glass of water with a flourish, which also included a bag of chips and an apple. “It might be too much, so only eat as much as you want. It’s better to take it easy when your stomach isn’t used to meals like this.”

You nodded and gave her an expression which you hoped looked more grateful than grimace. Truth be told, you were holding back emotion as even this small kindness felt overwhelming after the past year.

But as you picked up the sandwich to take a bite, a heavy set of footsteps stopped at the door.

It was Thor, his large frame standing almost sheepishly in the doorway. “Apologies for interrupting. May I speak with you?”

To your surprise, the question was for you, and after a nod, Nat touched your wrist and said, “I’ll be right outside. You can have the room.”

After she exited, Thor approached your table with a sort of caution.

“Oh, sorry, uh, would you like to sit down?” You stuttered lamely, when noticing his hesitation.

He nodded and did so, dwarfing the chair and the table. You hadn’t really taken the time to notice before, how huge his arms and shoulders were. A single bicep was larger than the size of your own head.

“Don’t let me interrupt your meal. You need your strength,” Thor said, eyes flicking to the plate. “Especially if you’re going to be facing my brother.”

Ah. That.

“Is that…” You were still having a bit of trouble processing the identity of who you were talking to. “Is that what you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Loki’s always been deceptive. I just wanted to warn you not to listen to anything he says, especially not at face value. He will try to distract you, deceive you, and it will seem he knows more about you than he should.”

As he spoke, you noticed he kept eyeing the potato chip packet next to your plate. You pushed it towards him, and he gratefully accepted, popping the bag open and nervously munching on its contents.

You hummed in thought. “I understand. Maybe it would help to know what kinds of abilities he has? What sort of tricks he’s able to pull?”

Thor seemed to relax slightly, having something to occupy his mind and hands. He regaled you with a few anecdotes of how Loki had used his magic to trick him, some from their childhood, and some more recently.

You found yourself both more reassured and more nervous, afraid there might be something you would miss allowing Loki an out. Or a way to hurt you. But all of that aside, it was almost fun to converse with Thor like this… being nearly immortal led to having many interesting stories to tell, and the more he told the more animated he became. He even had you laughing at some points.

“Thank you,” he held up the empty chip bag. “I haven’t had these since my last visit to Earth. A favored Midgardian dish, if I recall.”

You smiled. “No problem. And thank you for warning me. I know it must be difficult to... fight with family like this.”

“Yes,” a sad half smile lifted one side of his lips, “I’m afraid that is something I am still coming to terms with.”

Before he rose from his seat, Thor clapped you on the shoulder. “You know, you remind me of my first Midgardian friends. I believe they would like you. One of them zapped me with a small device that even mimics your powers.”

With that strange but kind remark, Thor left the room.

….

Natasha said she had things she needed to attend to, but that you were welcome to walk around as you pleased, and to just be careful not to stumble into anything that looked even mildly secret or dangerous.

So you aimlessly wandered the giant airship, mostly in an attempt to walk off some nerves. You tried to memorize your paths, memorize the turns and rooms, but after a while you realized just how much you’d fucked up. It was a fruitless endeavor, and you eventually found yourself quite lost.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself.

You turned the way you came, but as you did so, something shifted in the corner of your eye. Whipping frantically towards the movement, you felt your body tense like an animal being hunted, and thoughts of the masked man from the labs flooded your mind.

No, he couldn’t be here. Your mind was playing tricks, your anxiety was getting the better of you.

“My, my,” a silvery voice said into your ear. “You are jumpy, aren’t you?”

Reeling back, you slammed into the opposite wall, nearly knocking yourself out with the force of it. You still didn’t see the source of the voice.

“What is the reason for this skittishness, I wonder?”

Loki.

He materialized in front of you, and you froze like a deer in the headlights. He rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself. This is not an escape attempt.”

You did not find that convincing.

“This is merely a projection. My real body is still in that cell… Here, see for yourself.” His right hand swept out to beckon to you, palm up.

Did he want you to… touch him? Your earlier conversation with Thor filtered through your head, and you knew it would be a bad idea. You did not move. Again, frustration showed on Loki’s creased brow.

“Fine, look.” Then, through a wall of solid steel, Loki passed his hand as if he were just a hologram.

“What do you want?” you asked abruptly.

He looked faintly surprised that you had spoken, but schooled his expression quickly. “I want to know more about you.”

“What?” It was your turn to be surprised (not that you’d stopped since he materialized from nowhere). “Why?”

“It’s not every day I meet a mortal who can withstand an Infinity Stone’s power,” he chuckled, as if that were clearly obvious.

Your blank stare must’ve clued him in to the fact that the significance of this ‘Infinity Stone’ was lost on you, because he only sighed.

“Rest assured, it’s not something a normal human should be able to do,” he said. “So… what is different about you?”

He stepped closer, and though you knew he couldn’t touch you, you recoiled further into the wall. His stare was piercing, and he clearly enjoyed that it made you squirm.

Finally you mustered up the courage to respond. “I’ve already told this story once today,” you said, sounding more like a petulant child than you meant to.

“Touchy subject?”

“It’s not particularly fun to talk about, no.”

He didn’t move any closer but didn’t relinquish you your space either. He just studied you as if he could discern your entire history from your visual being.

You wondered if you should just turn and walk away, or if he had some way of stopping you. Even more unexpected though, was the realization that you wanted to talk to him, that maybe this conversation could help you in your real life encounter that was to happen soon.

“Why did you approach me in the pub?” you asked, and though it wasn’t the answer he apparently wanted, he looked pleased that you were engaging him now. “I was curious.”

“And when you blasted me with the scepter?”

“I wanted to see what would happen.” He shrugged, as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

“And now that you have? What do you want?”

A beat of silence. Then, “What do you think?”

You thought, if he had had a plan before, your presence must have thrown quite the wrench and that if he were smart, he would be trying to figure out exactly how big and disastrous that wrench would be. “I think you didn’t expect me to be involved.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That is true.” Then a smirk began to form on his mouth and he squinted at you. “They’re planning something with you, aren’t they? Fury and his subordinates.”

Your widened eyes must have been all the answer he needed. How did he know?

With a laugh, “They have so much at their disposal, weapons of mass destruction, all of Stark’s technology, and they defer to the prowess of a child they’ve only just met?” Loki leaned in so close the green of eyes felt overwhelming. “They must be truly desperate.”

A familiar voice, Tony’s, called your name from around the corner, echoing off the metal walls of the hallway. But Loki didn’t move. His eyes remained on you, so sharp and curious, you felt like an animal on a dissection tray.

“Until next we meet, then.”

And with that, he vanished.

“Sparks,” Tony came around to your stretch of hallway. “Thought that was your voice. You lost? Talking to yourself? You know, cabin fever usually takes a lot longer than a few hours to set in.”

Still a little too stunned to speak, you gulped and nodded.

Tony’s eyes narrowed with concern. “You good? Looking a little green around the gills, Pikachu.”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m alright.” Your voice returned to you. “And.. Pikachu? Really?”

Tony wasn’t entirely convinced but seemed to let it go. He shrugged. “I like to change it up-- and are you, or are you not, electrically charged at all times?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. He clapped you on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he turned, waving you to follow him. “Want you to see what we cooked up for ya.”

————

The conducting table was ready. Only a few moments before you stepped into Loki’s cage, the first time you would be in the same physical space as him since he basically almost murdered you.

Cool. All cool. You were definitely not feeling a panic attack setting in. You were definitely breathing at a normal rate and not feeling your lungs seize up in your chest.

“We’ll be right here, if anything goes wrong,” Steve said, laying a hand gently on the back of your shoulder.

“Aye,” Thor said. “I’ll be standing with you.”

There was a stone in your throat as you looked at Loki through the thick glass. He seemed to feel your gaze, and slowly turned to look, grinning when he saw you watching.

Loki’s hands were shackled, sitting on the table in front of two conducting handles, which were mirrored on the other side. The idea was that you both grip them, and you would be able to dig through his mind… theoretically.

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” you said. You felt sweat under your arms, and your face getting hot with anxiety.

Fury eyed you. “Just do what you can.”

The door to his cell whooshed open, and flanking you on either side as you entered were Cap and Thor. Loki regarded them with that same smirk as they entered, soon followed by Fury and Natasha. Tony and Dr. Banner remained on the other side of the glass.

“Is this the best you can do?” He said, his eyes flaring at you. “Insulting, really.”

Fury ignored him, directing you to the empty chair at the other end of the table.

“On my go,” he said, and stood to the right of the table. He pinned Loki with a stare.

Loki shot back a challenging look before his gaze settled on you and his hands moved to grip the handles. “On your go.” And at that moment, in full purview of that slanting grin, you understood why he was called the God of Mischief.

Fury nodded at you.

Now or never.

And, sparing a passing thought to the entropy that was your life and the risks of what you were about to do, you grabbed the handles.

Tags: @purplekitten30 @scorpionchild81 @mjaudrey @srhxpci @the-maroon-panda @lirinstaalem

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (156/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[1 December Age 893, Earth.]

Throughout the night, Trunks had been exploring the simulated universe in the popular arcade game Super Dragon Ball Heroes.   To the Earthlings of the 9th Century, it was just a video game about famous warriors and battles from history, but it was in fact a secret project backed by the Time Patrol.   The game world in SDBH was a scale model of the actual universe, based upon the Scroll of Eternity itself.   This provided a unique gaming experience for the unsuspecting civilians, but it also allowed Time Patrollers like Trunks to conduct research and interact with historical events without altering history.   His main objective to was to learn more about his new partner, Luffa.    So far, he had spoken to several Saiyans across time and space, and each answer he found seemed to raise a new question.

At the Hero Lab, where the SDBH game was programmed and maintained, Trunks pondered these questions over takeout food.    Dr. Leggings had cleared off her desk for the plates and napkins.    Her assistant, a girl named Anne, was fussing over the bags of food, determined to make sure everyone’s order was accounted for and properly distributed.   No one asked her to do this, but she was the type who couldn’t relax otherwise.    She still complained about it, but Trunks knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nearby, Beat and Note had rolled their own chairs to face one another, and they each propped their feet up on the edge of the other's seat.    He had recruited them for help on a case when they were younger, and it was strange to see them as teenagers.   He wondered if there was something more than friendship developing between them, or if they themselves were aware of it, but it seemed undignified to ask, so he let it go.    There were more important things to consider anyway.

"The main job's been accomplished, at least," Trunks said after he swallowed a bite of eggroll.    "I know where Camelia's key planets are located, and our historians can probably fill in a more complete map of the galaxy from that era.   Then we can work with Luffa to figure out the correct date and location she came from."

"You don't sound very satisfied with that, Master," Note said as she fished out a piece of shrimp from her takeout box and fed it to Beat.  

"I'm not," Trunks said.   "We thought Luffa might be from a distant civilization, but one in the present day.    Now, it's starting to look like she's from our galaxy, but eleven centuries in the past.   Maybe twelve.   The Rehval that I spoke with was the third Saiyan King with that name.    The one Luffa mentioned may have been his father or grandfather."

"Why is that bad, Trunks?" Beat asked.   He found a piece of pork in his box and passed it from his chopsticks to Note's chopsticks.    "I mean, so what if she’s from twelve centuries in the past?   You guys are the Time Patrol, after all.   If anyone can send her home, you can."

"It's not that we can't send her back," Beat, " Trunks said.   "The problem is that I'm not so sure we should.   From the start, I just assumed Luffa was from the present time, or close to it.   Without realizing it, I've shown Luffa things that will happen in her distant future.    To us, it's the past, but if we send her back with that knowledge, she could change the course of history."

"Would she?"  Note asked.    "I mean, I'm sure she's an honorable person, or Shenron wouldn't have chosen her as your ally, Master.   And now that she's seen the dangers involved with time anomalies, I'm sure she'd never tell anyone what she learned about our era."

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," said Dr. Leggings.    She was chewing on a bone from her order of spare ribs, and Trunks couldn't help but appreciate a very faint resemblance she had to his father.   Leggings looked a lot more like his mother, particularly with the way she wore her green hair in a ponytail.    She was no warrior, but there were definite hints of Saiyan to her.    He liked this.   In his own timeline, Trunks was an only child, and the last of his father's people.   It was comforting to spend time in places like Hero Town and Toki Toki City, where he had an extended family of sorts, no matter how distant.  

"What do you mean, doctor?" Note asked.

"We've seen how even minor changes in the past can cause major changes in the present," Leggings said.   "The game world makes it easy to see, because we can jump from one time period to another very quickly, and we can reset those changes as easily as refreshing a computer.   It's not just a matter of winning a battle you were supposed to lose, or telling secrets that you aren't supposed to know about.   Luffa might change history without even realizing she's done it."

"She's right," Trunks said.   "When I first went back to the past, I tried to be careful not to make any unwanted changes.   I only wanted to warn Goku about the Cyborgs and give him the medicine for the heart virus.    But somehow he got sick about six months later than I expected.   I still have no idea why that happened.   My guess is that he was training for the Cyborgs, so he must have been in a different place than he was in my timeline, so he wasn't infected under the same circumstances."  

"You think Luffa might do something differently, now that she knows what's going to happen to the Saiyans?" Beat asked.

"She might," Trunks said.   "Luffa hates King Rehval, and now that I've met the guy, I can't say I blame her.   If I understand correctly, there's a direct throughline connecting Rehval's policies with the class system used by my grandfather on Planet Vegeta.   So she might blame Rehval for the downfall of the Saiyan race, and try to take revenge.   For that matter, she knows about the Dragon Balls on Namek.   She might be tempted to use them in the past, to try to make wishes to prevent some of the terrible things she's seen in the future."

"That'd be good, wouldn't it?" Beat asked.    

"Not for you, it wouldn't," Note said in a scolding tone.    "Son Goku is your ancestor, isn't he?   If the history of the Saiyans changes too much, then they might never send Goku to Earth, and you would never be born."

"Oh, right," Beat said.   "Maybe Luffa should stay in Toki Toki City, then."

"And that could have consequences too," Trunks said.    "Luffa might still play a role in history, however small.   Shenron may have only brought her to us because he knew the Time Patrol would eventually put her back.    But there's also the matter of her power level..."

"Power?" Anne asked.   She had already finished her meal and was busily cleaning up the discarded cartons and wrappers.     "Don't tell me that's a problem on top of everything else!"

"Yup, I'm afraid so, Anne," Trunks said.    "Luffa's done well on her missions, but she's nowhere near as powerful as what I had expected.   Now that I know what time period she's from, that makes more sense.   King Rehval told me he was the strongest Saiyan of his era, and he's a lot stronger than Luffa, but he wouldn't stand a chance against the kinds of enemies I've had to fight.   Luffa defeated the Ginyu Force, and Rehval might have handled them more easily but that's about all I could expect from either of them."  

"That's nothing you can't fix, Master!" Note said.   "I'm sure you can train Luffa just as well as you trained us!"

"I appreciate your confidence, Note," Trunks said, "but Luffa's not exactly what I'd call 'teachable'.   Besides, she seems to have improved dramatically on her own.   Even she doesn't understand how she's doing it, but she may catch up before too long.   But if she returns to her own time with all that extra strength, then that could mess up history too.    And if she has to remain with us, then I'm not sure she'll be any good on future missions."

"Why not?" Beat asked.   "She's sure to get stronger."

"I thought so too, but maybe I've been taking that for granted," Trunks said.   "I'm used to dealing with Saiyans descended from Son Goku, or from my own family.    Goku and Vegeta were extraordinary fighters, even among Saiyans, but Luffa could be... Well, there's no gentle way to put this.   She might not have the same potential."

"You're not going to just fire her, are you?" Note asked.    

"Of course not," Trunks said.   "If we can't send her home, I'm sure we can find a place for her in the Time Patrol.   But we can't risk sending her on certain missions.   Towa and Mira are dangerous, and if I'm right, their raids on history's warriors are only going to get bolder.   Luffa could find herself in deep waters with no one to help her.   Shenron may have granted my wish, and maybe she is the best person for the job, but that doesn't mean I can gamble with her life.   I need more information before she goes back into the field."

"I'm sure whatever happens, it'll all work out, Trunks," Beat said.    

"You always say stuff like that," Note groaned.  

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" Beat shrugged.    "Well, most of the time, anyway."

"This has been fun, but I should probably get moving," Trunks said.    "I need to report my findings to the Time Patrol, and maybe the Supreme Kai of Time has a fresh lead on Towa."

"You have to leave already?" Beat asked.    "But it feels like you just got here!"

"Yeah, it was beginning to feel like the old days," Note said.  

"I've missed you guys too," Trunks said.   He stood up and brushed loose grains of rice from his pants.   "You've grown up a lot while I've been away.    You too, Anne."

"I guess it's kind of childish how I keep calling you, 'Master'," Note said.   "Force of habit, I suppose."

"You're welcome to call me 'Trunks' if you want, Note.    But to be honest, it reminds me of when I was a kid.   I used to call Gohan 'Master', back when he trained me to fight the Cyborgs.   He meant a lot to me.   Hearing you say it... It's a good feeling."    

"I'll keep the Hero Switches ready in case you come back," Leggings said.    "You'll probably need to do some follow-up work to pin down an exact time for Luffa."

"Good call," Trunks said as he slung his sword over his shoulder.   "I'll probably have to bring her with me.   I'll see if I can get her to make some more of that lasagna she made for us the other day."  

"Lasagna?" Beat asked.    But Trunks vanished before he could get an answer.  

*******

[4 March, Age 850.  Toki Toki City.]

Luffa felt ridiculous doing this, but she had no other ideas for how to handle the situation.   She knew the way from her apartment to the Time Nest, and the Time Vault was unlocked and unguarded, but she had no idea what to do on her own.   Trunks had always contacted her whenever she was needed, and he always had the Scroll ready to send her on her next mission.     Without him, it seemed that the Time Vault was a useless building with a tree sticking out of the roof.    And so, her only way forward was the Supreme Kai of Time, who lived in a modest capsule house in the Time Nest, next door to the Time Vault.    Luffa felt awkward simply entering the house, and so she went back to her apartment and baked a cake.   That wouldn't make things less awkward for her, but at least there would be something to eat during her visit.    

"Luffa, Hi!" Chronoa said as she answered the knock on her door.    "Ooh, what's that?  It smells good."

"Uh, I got in a mood, so I made some cake," Luffa said, in a failed attempt to sound nonchalant.   "And I thought I should check and see if you and Trunks had any update on the search."

"Afraid not," Chronoa said.   "But perfect timing on the cake.   I just put on a pot of tea.   Come on in!"

The interior of Chronoa's house was littered with technological gizmos.    There were entire jet engines laying around the Time Nest, and it seemed that this was because those larger objects were the only ones that wouldn't fit inside.    Chronoa tossed several of them off one of the couch cushions and gestured for Luffa to take a seat.    

"I'm glad you finally came over," Chronoa said.   "I was worried that you might be having trouble fitting in with the Time Patrol."

"It's uh... it's not so bad," Luffa said.   "My roommate is kind of weird, but we get along well enough.    I've met a few people here."

"They're all a very special bunch of people," Chronoa said.   "I haven't been able to get to know them all as well as I'd like to, but they've helped me out a lot.   That goes for you too, Luffa."

"Listen, uh... I think I owe you an apology," Luffa said.   "I was in a pretty bad place right before I ended up here, and... well, I might have taken out some of my frustrations on you and your staff."

"You've had to adjust to a lot of changes very quickly, Luffa," Chronoa said.    "And we didn't exactly give you a choice about coming here.    You're entitled to get frustrated with us."

"Thanks, but... I'm a mercenary," Luffa said.   "Well, I used to be.   My parents always taught me how important it was to maintain a professional discipline around the clients.   I don't think I've lived up to my own standards."

"I don't think of the other Time Patrollers as mercenaries, Luffa," Chronoa said.   "We're a team, and we're friends.    At least, I'd like to think of you as a friend."

"Yeah, I guess so," Luffa said.   "I... Can I ask you something?"

"Sure!"

"You're a god, aren't you?   A god of time."

"That's right."

"Don't you already know how all of this turns out?"

Chronoa chuckled as she sipped her tea.  

"Did I say something wrong?" Luffa asked.

"No, I get that a lot, actually," Chronoa said.   "The short answer is: no, I don't know the future.    Not in the way you're thinking of.    I watch over time, and maintain the flow of time.   When it's necessary, I correct problems in that flow.  But I don't make time, or control it."  

"It's just... I'm kind of anxious to get back on the trail of those demons," Luffa said.   "And we've been waiting for them to make their next move, and it occurred to me that it doesn't make much sense that we have to wait.    You could jump ahead to the moment when they've already made their play."

"Well, now that's something I could do," Chronoa said.   I can travel to the future and find out when the next mission happens.   I could even take you with me so you wouldn't have to wait."

"You can?" Luffa said.

"Oh yeah!" Chronoa said.   "I can do a lot of things.   But I shouldn't do it, so I won't."

"Oh."

"It's not an arbitrary rule, either," Chronoa said.   "Most Supreme Kais are only permitted to travel forward through time, and only to observe future events.   They can't interfere, so they have to limit their use of that power.    With me, the problem is that if I skip around too much, I run the risk of upsetting the balance of my own timeline.   Things have to proceed in order.   That's what time is all about."

"I guess that makes sense," Luffa said.  "Honestly, I had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy, or you would have already done it.  But I had to ask."

"You’re right, it’s not that easy.   In fact, it's part of the reason I established the Time Patrol," Chronoa said.   "For millions of years, keeping watch over the flow of time was pretty simple.  I just had to keep Tokitoki fed and watered, give him plenty of enrichment.   But as the universe grows older, it becomes more complex.    Once, there was no Supreme Kai of Time.   We didn't even need one.   But then we did, and now we've reached a point where I need a whole staff to help maintain things.   If I could just jump back and forth in time any way I wanted, maybe I could do the whole thing alone.   But it’s more satisfying this way, with all of you.”

"Why mortals?   Why not get other Kais to do this work?" Luffa asked.  

"Because there aren't enough of us, for one thing," Chronoa said.    "We come from a place called the 'World Core'.    There aren't many Core People, and few of us ever achieve the rank of Kai.    Fewer still ascend to the status of Grand Kai, and even fewer make it to Supreme Kai.   There used to be seven Supreme Kais in this universe, including me.   These days, there's only three."

"Is three enough?" Luffa asked.

"For now, it'll have to be," Chronoa said.   "Besides, I've found that mortals are very dedicated and resourceful.   To say nothing of all the technology they produce..."

She reached for an end table and picked up a machine that looked vaguely like a can opener combined with an alarm clock.    Luffa expected her to use the device, but instead Chronoa simply admired its surfaces.  

"So what's all this stuff for, anyway?" Luffa asked, gesturing to the assortment of similar gadgets that lay in every direction.  

"Nothing in particular," Chronoa said.   "I just find their designs fascinating.   The electronics, the cogwheels, the little blinking lights.   It's helpful for contemplating the nature of time."

"If you say so," Luffa said.    

"Without time, everything would happen all at once," Chronoa explained.  "Birth, death, creation, destruction, none of that would mean anything without the passage of time to separate those moments.   The oven you used to bake this cake.   Without time, there would be no need for it.   Cooking would be meaningless.    You can't preheat an oven or leave a cake inside for seven hours, not when there's no hours."

"S-seven hours?" Luffa asked, but Chronoa paid no mind.    

"Mixing the ingredients would be pointless, too.    Even the pan you put it in, it would be unnecessary, because there could be no cause or effect.    There could be no hunger, because there would be no time for you to become hungry."    

"That's why you like these tools, then?"  Luffa asked.   "Their functions remind you of the flow of time?"

"Yes, that's one way of looking at it," Chronoa said.     She picked up another object that had a handle connected to a transparent dome on wheels.   Inside the dome were several colorful plastic balls, which bounced around inside as Chronoa pushed it along the floor.  

"What does that thing do?" Luffa asked.  

"Oh, this is just a child's toy," Chronoa said.   "Same idea though."

"Okay..."   Luffa decided this was as good a time as any to serve the cake.   It was yellow with chocolate frosting, a recipe which suited her aesthetics, though she had no idea what flavor “yellow” was supposed to be.    She wondered if “yellow” was a kind of fruit, like the oranges used to make the juice she had discovered while shopping.

 "Very impressive," Chronoa said as she took a bite.   "You must have turned the oven up to full power for this."

"Uh, not exactly," Luffa said nervously.   She was beginning to get the impression that Chronoa had no idea how cooking worked.  "Jayncho found a recipe, and they had everything I needed in the Industrial District.   I've been using my downtime to get a handle on Earth cuisine."

"That's great!   You know... when we figure out how to get you home, Luffa, you wouldn't have to stay there.    You could come back for missions."  

"Huh?"

"We have a lot of Patrollers who still live on Earth, in their own native eras.    Mostly ranging from Age 850 to 1050, but there are a few exceptions, like Trunks."

"Well, that's nice and all," Luffa said, "but I don't know that it would work for me..."

"Do you have any family?"

Luffa hesitated before answering.    "No," she said.   "It's just me." To explain further would require her to reveal that she knew she was from the distant past, and she wasn't ready to divulge that just yet.   She wasn't sure she ever would be.   But somehow, sitting in Chronoa's home, sharing snacks with her while they watched the view outside her window, Luffa felt like she could trust her.

She just wouldn't trust her today.  Not yet.   Like Chronoa had said, these things had to happen in the proper order.

"Have you heard of ‘Providence,’ Chronoa?" Luffa asked.

"I know the term, if that's what you mean." she said with her mouth full.  

"My... a friend of mine, she believed in a divine plan.  I just wondered if you, or one of the other Kais, had any connection to that."

"Are you religious yourself, Luffa?"

"Not really.   But I've known people who were.   You wouldn't know a god with nine eyes, by any chance, would you?"

"No, I can't say that I do," Chronoa said.  

"What about Beerus?"

"Oh, well that's different," Chronoa said.   "You see-- Wait, what was that?"

She put her plate on the coffee table and stood up, as though looking for something beyond the walls of her house.    

"What is it?" Luffa asked.  Her own senses picked up nothing out of the ordinary. 

"Something's wrong," Chronoa said.    "We need to go to the Time Vault."

"Is it Towa and Mira?" Luffa asked.  

"I'm not sure," Chronoa said, “but I think it could be."

Luffa punched her right hand with her left as she stood up from the sofa.   At last, it seemed like her waiting was over.

*******

[24 December, Age 762.   Planet Namek.]

The Namekian Dragon Balls were ordinary stones.   Two wishes had been granted, but they petrified upon the death of their creator, Guru.   When Frieza arrived to discover this predicament, he was furious.    So furious, that he wasted no time in destroying the objects of his wrath.    Within minutes, Krillin, Vegeta, and the Namekian child, Dende, were all dead.    Piccolo, newly resurrected by the Dragon Balls, joined the battle, but far too later to do any good.   Gohan was next, and then the only one left was Goku.    

"Who... are you?" Frieza asked, as Goku cradled his dead son in his arms.     "Never mind.   I don't need to know."

Goku followed the others soon after. 

*******

[4 March, Age 850.    Toki Toki City.]

"It has to be Towa," Chronoa said.   She had the Scroll of Eternity unfurled on the great octagonal table in the Time Vault.    Luffa watched over her shoulder, while Tokitoki flapped his wings and hooted overhead.    

"This looks like the same day as the Ginyu Force battle I was just in," Luffa said. 

"It is," Chronoa said.  "This new temporal change takes place thirty-seven minutes after you left.    Towa must have decided it was the last place we would expect her to strike.   I didn't think she was prepared to try her energy stealing techniques on someone as powerful as Frieza."

Luffa had never actually seen Frieza before.    Until now, she had only heard about him.   During her previous mission, the Ginyu Force and Vegeta had spoken of him as being present on Namek, but occupied elsewhere.   Before that, she had heard about Frieza's conquest and destruction of the Saiyan homeworld from the Toki Toki City historian, Dewar.    Dewar had said that Frieza was a clansman of his own species, and now that Luffa could see Frieza in the mystical images generated by the Scroll, she could see the resemblance.   Mostly, Frieza had purple colorations wherever Dewar had blue, and Frieza didn't bother wearing clothes.   He was a white-skinned, muscular humanoid with no hair and three-toed feet.    A long, thick tail waved behind him.  The purple aura from Towa's magic seemed to suit his cruel, indifferent expression.  

"Looks like it's the same story as before," Luffa said.    "Frieza got a power boost and he overwhelmed these guys too quickly, so I'll have to step in and balance the scales."

"It's not that simple," Chronoa warned.   "Frieza is far more powerful than anyone you've faced so far."

"He can't swap bodies like Captain Ginyu, can he?" Luffa asked.    

"No, but--"

"Well then, this should be a lot more straightforward," Luffa said,  She held up her hands and began cracking her knuckles.  

"Wait," Chronoa said.   "Luffa, I really think we should hold off on this until Trunks gets back."

"What for?" Luffa asked.   "I'm the one who has to go on these missions, and I'm ready right now.   With any luck, those miserable demons will still be there, and I can pick up where I left off."

"You don't know what you're dealing with, Luffa," Chronoa warned.  "Every time you've come back from these missions, you've been badly hurt.    Fighting Frieza is one thing.   If he hurts you, you can be automatically recalled to the Time Nest before you die.   But if Towa decides to step in, that might not work.   She's already threatened you, and there's a lot we don't know about her temporal manipulation abilities."

"Then it's time we found out," Luffa insisted.   "I don't know what kind of Saiyans you have working for you in the Time Patrol, but I'm the kind that doesn't back down from a challenge.    I think your pet Dragon noticed that, and maybe that's why he brought me here to help you out."

"There's more at stake here than whatever chip you have on your shoulder, Luffa," Chronoa said.  "I can tell you're out to prove something.   I don't know what, but I won't risk your life like this."

"And what happens if they try to alter history somewhere else while we're waiting around?" Luffa asked.   "We need to address this sooner rather than later.   And no matter what we do, it's going to be me who ends up going.   You know I'm right, Supreme Kai of Time.    I wouldn't be here if I weren't."  

Chronoa regarded her for a moment, then looked back at the Scroll.    "All right, we'll try it your way," she said.   "But I'll be watching, and at the first sign of trouble, I'm pulling you out of there."

"Thanks," Luffa said.   "I was thinking about making a grab for the Scroll, but I didn’t want to upset you.   I've never fought a god before, and I didn't want to make things awkward between us.”

"Uh... sure.   Well, promise me that you’ll keep that in mind if I have to bring you back from the mission early," Chronoa said.   "If you can't handle Frieza, then you definitely don't need to be picking fights with me."

Luffa smiled as she picked up the Scroll, and then she was gone.

NEXT: 「F」

[fanforthefics]

Bennguin Animal husbandry for the 5+ headcannons 8D

1) Tyler is the big city slicker sent to the country to lay low during his scandal. It’s not a big scandal, he’s only minorly famous for being rich and hot on Instagram, but like, maybe he said some shit and did some shit that got caught on camera and his mom told him, very nicely but in her most Disappointed tone, that it would probably be good if he lay low for a while, just until her latest deal goes through. Tyler doesn’t actually want to fuck things up, even if it’s bullshit how much of a fuss everyone’s making about some partying and some admittedly badly phrased tweets, so he goes. It’s not like they don’t have the internet everywhere, and the dogs will be there so that’s what’s important.

The town he goes to is a little town in the middle of nowhere, which is about as close as Tyler gets to figuring out the geography. His mom knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy, and then Tyler’s driving up to an honest to god ranch, through some pastures that are filled with cows.

Gerry pops his head up, barks out the window at one of them. The cow does not react. “Yeah, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Tyler agrees. Or maybe the point is they are. Where did his mom even send him?

Where she sent him, he sees on the sign when he turns in the drive, is the Star Ranch. And who she sent him too, he sees, when he gets out of the car and rings the bell, the dogs tugging excitedly on the leashes to explore, is a big man about Tyler’s age, with eyes as big and brown as the cows, and who looks far more surprised to see Tyler than Tyler is to see him.

“Hi, I’m Tyler Seguin,” Tyler says.

“Yeah, I know,” the dude mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair, then straightens. Tyler can’t help but look. His shirt’s loose, but damn. “I’m Jamie Benn, my family owns the place. Come on in.” He steps aside, still looking awkward. This...doesn’t bode well. But Tyler can make it work, he figures. There have to be some views around here for some good Insta posts. And at least the dogs will be happy.

2) To say Jamie’s happy to have a...lodger, at the ranch, is an overstatement. He gets why, and the money they’re getting for Seguin’s room and board is plenty welcome--they’re a small operation and money’s always tight--but to say Jamie’s awkward with new people is an understatement. Jordie always gives him shit when he says that, says he just needs to work at it, but Jamie doesn’t see why he should. He’s fine with the cows, with the employees on the farm, and at the market where they sell, and Jenny and Jordie can handle all the rest of the marketing and sales.

But it’s not like he doesn’t want Seguin to fit in. And, as Jenny had said, when they were talking it over, Seguin’s got more Instagram followers than Jamie can conceive of, so anything he says about the farm will be great publicity. The east coast hipsters, she says, are a vast but untapped market.

So he tries. He greets Seguin’s dogs, who seem pretty great and make Jamie laugh as they all try to lick his face, then shows them around, to the room where Seguin’ll be staying, around the house, whatever. It’s getting late to go around the grounds, and Seguin-call-me-Tyler-no-seriously had a long drive today; he doesn’t want to press. Tyler doesn’t ask, thougn he does look around at everything curiously, like it’s all alien to him. Jamie guesses it might be, for a kid who grew up in the city. It’s all Jamie’s ever known.

Still, it’s a relief when Jordie comes back in, so he can take over the conversation. He has Tyler chattering over dinner, about his drive and the dogs and his home and the Canucks and whatever else comes to mind. It’s nice, to have the noise; it’s always quieter when Jenny’s away, and Jamie and Jordie spend too much time together to talk too much. Tyler doesn’t seem to have that problem; Jamie can see why he’s so popular online, in the city. He’s pretty clearly making an effort, but that doesn’t stop the magnetic charm from working.

It probably helps that he’s got that ridiculous body and that smile and those curls that are like an invitation for someone’s fingers to tangle in them, and he clearly knows all those things. He flirts with Jamie and Jordie indiscriminately, and when Spezza comes in from the barn to tell them that he’s heading home for the night, Tyler flirts with him too.

After dinner, they clean up, and chat a little longer, then, Jordie stretches to head upstairs. “Night, then,” He says. Tyler makes a shocked face.

“Already?”

Jamie snorts, and Jordie grins. “Sun’s down, city boy. And we wake up early here.”

“Oh.” Tyler still looks gobsmacked.

“You don’t have to,” Jamie says, taking pity on him and the horror on his face, and only laughing a little. “Though the cows might wake you up anyway.”

“No rooster?” Tyler asks, rallying impressively. Jordie chuckles, ruffles Jamie’s hair, then heads upstairs with another good night.

It’s silent, for a long, long moment. Tyler’s just watching him.

“He also has to call his girlfriend,” Jamie offers. “That’s why, um. It’s early even for us.”

“Thank god.” Tyler grins. Jamie nods, but he doesn’t have anything to say either, so he gets up to go to bed too, after telling Tyler where the TV is and how the remote works and that shit. Tyler waves him away, but. He looks kind of alone, in the big kitchen all by himself, and very out of place.

3) Tyler spends three days almost always in his room. Or at least, Jamie thinks so; he’s in his room except for meals when Jamie’s in the house, anyway, and he doesn’t see him much around the ranch, except for when he’s running with the dogs. When he’s not in his room, he’s wandering around the house or the yard, fidgeting like a dog who can smell the rain.

He’s not getting in the way or anything, but Jamie still only lasts until the fourth day before he knocks loud on Tyler’s door, as the sun rises outside.

It takes him a few minutes, but then the door opens, and Tyler’s sleepy face pokes out. “Is something on fire?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his face. Jamie swallows, because Tyler sleep-rumpled is a sight, but then,

“Get dressed,” he says. “You’re helping out today.”

“I’m what?” Tyler asks, blinking. Not like he’s refusing, just like he doesn’t get it.

“You’re going to learn how a farm works,” Jamie tells him. “Come on, milking waits for no man.”

Tyler blinks, then shuts the door.

Jamie mostly expects for that to be the end of it, but five minutes later Tyler’s got jeans and an old Leafs t-shirt on, and he’s scrubbing water off his face. “Okay,” he says, looking determined. “Let’s go.”

So they do. Jamie takes him around the farm with him, introduces him to the hands and shows him how things are done. Tyler’s green, but he’s not stupid, and he asks questions and he touches the animals with the right amount of gentle firmness, and Jamie’s not going to think about that.

They’re finishing off feeding the sick cows in the barn when Esa comes over, to talk with Jamie about the fence in the back pasture.

“You finish up here,” Jamie tells Tyler, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “I’l come back when I’m done.”

Tyler stares at him, like he’s never heard that before. “Just—finish up? With this?”

“You’ve got the hang of it.” He’s been good so far. “I’ll be right back.”

“Um, yeah.” Tyler gives him a little salute, which makes Jamie chuckle. When he comes back from dealing with Esa, the cows are all fed, and Tyler’s looking at him, a little nervous and a little proud.

“Looks good,” Jamie tells him, and Tyler grins. Jamie can’t look at that grin for long.

They finish up the day, then go back in to shower before dinner. Before they go inside, though, Tyler catches his arm.

“Hey. Thanks. For this. I know I slowed you down, but—“

Jamie shrugs. “Looked like you needed something to do. And training only speeds people up in the long run.”

Tyler smiles again, then glances away for a second. “I thought you didn’t like me,” he admits, with a twist to his lips.

“Why?” Jamie doesn’t get it. He doubts anyone ever dislikes Tyler who’s met him.

“Because you didn’t talk to me?” Tyler says, with a self-deprecating laugh. “And wouldn’t look me in the eye?”

“Nah, that’s just Chubbs,” Jordie says, coming out of the office to throw an arm around Jamie. “I told you, he takes a while to settle in. How was your first day at the office?” He asks Tyler, and Tyler lights up again, talking about it.

Jamie slips away to shower as he does. There’s only so much of Tyler’s grin that a man can take.

4) It all spirals quickly, after that.

Tyler would like to say that he isn’t to blame. He’s only human, and he’d like to see the person who could see Jamie Benn hand-feeding a calf and not fall for him hard and fast. Or see him pitching hay, his shirt sticking to his broad chest as he worked in the sun. Or see him with the other employees, leading everyone like he’s forgotten he’s supposed to be shy and awkward. Or see how excited he gets about organic farming and all the sustainable changes they’ve made to the farm (that he’s made, Jordie tells Tyler, as Jamie pretends he isn’t listening; apparently it’s been Jamie’s baby). Or watched a baseball game with him, seen him yell at the screen and get flushed and hyped about it. Or just—seen Jamie, who looked at Tyler and saw what he needed, who didn’t hesitate to trust him with the things he loved most. Not a lot of people have trusted Tyler, historically.

And Brownie can go suck it, if he thinks this is just that Tyler usually falls hard and fast. Jamie’s different. Jamie’s not one of the charming people back in the city, all flirting and hard edges and fast times and fun. Jamie’s. Different, is all Tyler can say, and if Brownie doesn’t believe him, whatever. Tyler knows what’s up.

And for a while, it’s just sort of fun, in a hopeless sort of way; Tyler watches Jamie and banters with him and Jamie warms up, slow and sure. It’s sort of nice, actually; Tyler feels like he earned every time Jamie laughs at him, every time Jamie rolls his eyes and flips him off when he tries to sneak a picture of him framed by the morning light. It makes him feel special, that Jamie trusts him with that. And it just feels good, to make Jamie smile.

It also feels good to see Jamie squirm, which is why Tyler asks, at the bar Jamie took him to to meet up with some of his friends to give Jordie the house for the evening for a date night with his girlfriend, “So he was a big shot in high school?”

The guy Jamie had introduced as Tyson but who had corrected Jamie that it was T-Beauty laughs, as Jamie rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Tyson says, grinning mischievously at Jamie. “Shoulda seen him. Baseball, hockey—this guy was the shit.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie retorts, but he’s blushing in the good way. “It was all a team effort.”

“Sure, mon capitan.” Tyson salutes. Tyler laughs as Jamie shoves him almost off the stool. “Wow, see if I give you a compliment next time!”

“You compliment everyone, they aren’t worth anything,” Jamie complains, and Tyson scoffs. Tyler watches. It’s nice to see this too, Jamie casual and comfortable and having fun. He’s a little flushed from his few beers, even though they’re kind of shitty beers, and his long legs are stretched out in front of him.

“Fine then. Should we talk about how despite being captain of two varsity teams, you still only just managed to ask Jess Rogers to prom, then?” Tyson asks, and Tyler leans forward.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

“I really think we shouldn’t,” Jamie says. He pushes up from the table. “Another round?”

“Yeah. Whatever their best whiskey is, though, I need some real alcohol,” Tyler tells him, and Jamie makes a face but goes. Tyler is, again, only human, so he watches a little. Jamie’s jeans are not doing him any favors, but it still manages to work.

He starts to dig more about high school Jamie, because that’s definitely a topic he wants to know more about, so he only looks back at the bar to see some guy chatting with Jamie, a guy a little shorter than Jamie wearing flannel and cowboy boots and standing just a little closer in Jamie’s space that Tyler’s seen Jamie be comfortable with before.

“Oh, hey, speak of the devil,” Tyson says, following Tyler’s gaze.

“What?”

“Jess Rogers.” Tyson nods towards the guy. Tyler’s heart thumps. And maybe his dick a little bit. Okay then. “He’s been trying to get back in Chubbs’ pants since high school, but he was kind of a dick. And not in the way Jamie likes.”

“So that’s what Jamie likes? Dicks?” Tyler tries to be casual, but that’s not something he’s particularly good at.

Tyson gives Tyler a look like he definitely failed at the casual. “The literal kind, sure. The metaphorical kind…I’ll leave the shovel talks to Jord, eh? He’s more intimidating than me.”

Tyler reaches out to pay Tyson’s arm. “Don’t sell yourself short,” He tells him, and Tyson laughs.

“I like him, can we keep him?” He asks Jamie, when Jamie gets back. He hands Tyler a drink, and Tyler takes it. When he takes a sip, he let some linger on his lips so he can lick them, keep eye contact with Jamie.

Jamie definitely watches his tongue. “Um, yeah,” he says, just a beat too late. “As long as he’s here.”

5) Subtlety is not Tyler’s game, and what he needs is just to see, so he doesn’t particularly try. He pushes hard into Jamie’s space, he flexes, he flirts hard, and it gets him what he wants—Jamie is definitely looking back. He didn’t notice before, didn’t think there was a reason to, but. He knows how people who want to fuck him look at him, and that’s definitely it.

Or. It’s it. But maybe it’s more? Tyler’s less certain about that look.

Anyway, one step at a time, and Tyler knows how to put his best foot forward, so he waits until they get back to the ranch, after he lets the dogs back in and Jamie feeds them both water. Then he steps forward until Jamie’s back is to the wall, and he could move if he wanted to but it’d take pushing past Tyler.

Jamie’s breath catches, and his eyes widen. “Ty?” He asks, a little quiet. Unsure. Like he thinks he might be reading this wrong.

“No harm no foul if I’m wrong,” Tyler says, and then he kisses Jamie. Jamie’s not surprised for long, and of course he kisses like Tyler thought he might, beneath all the aw shucks Canadian boy exterior—bossy and sure and steady. It’s not the best kiss Tyler’s ever had, probably, technically, but who cares about technicalities when Tyler can bite at Jamie’s lip and hear the noise he makes at that? When Tyler can pull back to see Jamie staring at him, still like he’s confused but also like he’s so, so pleased?

“Um. So. You want—” Jamie starts, and it sounds like it might take him a while, so Tyler takes over.

“Upstairs, Jameson. Unless you want your brother to catch us bare-assed on the couch.”

Jamie snorts, grins. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says, with that hint of a grin in his eyes, and Tyler laughs incredulously as he tugs Jamie upstairs.

6) Jamie’s days pass in a haze of Tyler. He gets his work done, of course, but—Tyler comes with him around the farm, helps out on his own tasks. Pushes him onto the hay of the barn to kiss him, like Jamie all sweaty really gets him going. Poses for selfies with cows and tries to coax Jamie into them. Works out in the yard when he knows Jamie’s working on accounts in the office with the window with a view. And then when they’re done for the day, it’s just—more Tyler, joking and teasing and snapping his pictures and bugging Jordie and waiting for Jordie to go to bed before pushing Jamie onto the couch and going to his knees.

Jamie’s not a virgin, he’s had sex before. He’s had boyfriends before, and they’ve had very satisfying sex lives. But Tyler’s—it’s pretty clear he’s done a lot of shit Jamie hasn’t thought of, and he’s happy to share the fruits of his experience with Jamie.

But it’s not just that. Tyler’s—he helps out with the calves, and he’s started trying to learn to ride a horse even though he’s laughably bad at it, and he sometimes grabs Jamie’s hand just to play with his fingers, casual and sweeter than Jamie had expected.

Jordie just laughs and rolls his eyes at them when he sees them, because if Jamie had been considering keeping it a secret, that chance was basically gone when he’d come down with a hickey on his neck and Tyler looking very smug. It’s…nice. Working on the farm, coming home to dinner with his brother and Tyler.

“He seems very nice,” Jenny agrees. She’s back in town for a few days, and had, like everyone else, been immediately charmed by Tyler. Now she’s sitting at a booth in the bar with Jamie, watching as Tyler dances with one of the girls there. Jamie would maybe be jealous, but Tyler keeps looking at Jamie, like he’s checking in, and also—Tyler’s really hot when he dances. He dances like he knows everyone’s watching and he loves it.

“He’s going to break your heart.” Jenny doesn’t say it like an accusation. She says it like a fact.

“Yeah.” Jamie’s not stupid. He knows what’s going to happen. Tyler’s a city boy, and he’s still got his Instagram and his twitter he updates all the time and all the friends who keep up blowing up his home and the way he laughs at their run down bar and complains about how there’s no good Chinese food and ordered better sheets online because theirs weren’t soft enough. Tyler’s bright as a star, and about as far away. Jamie knows that. Knows that once everything’s died down, Tyler’s going to go back to the city and forget all about this dull little town. “But it’s good while it lasts.”

Jenny shakes her head. “Jamie—“ she starts, all big sister, but then Tyler’s there, holding out his hands.

“Do you mind if I steal your brother?” he asks Jenny. “Someone said there was going to be a line dance and I need someone to show me how.”

“Oh I am not—“

“Take him,” Jenny says, laughing a little. She catches Jamie’s eye, shrugs. “He’s being modest, he’s good at them.”

“Of course he is, what isn’t he good at?” Tyler asks, and Jamie snorts and rolls his eyes but lets Tyler pull him to the dance floor. It is good, he thinks, Tyler’s hand in his. For as long as he can have it.  

7) Tyler doesn’t think about any of that—about the future, about what happens when he goes home. He just thinks about Jamie. He knows he’s playing out of his league here, because he’s a fuck up and Jamie’s—Jamie, steady and grown up and a business owner and all that, but Tyler knows what he’s good at, and he’s definitely got tricks in bed that Jamie’s not used to. Which works out well all around, because Jamie might not be used to them but he can read Tyler’s play like nobody’s business, and he’s learning fast. Tyler’s—worried is the wrong word, but…he’s not entirely sure how he’ll keep tricking Jamie into staying with him, when the sex stops being so novel. Normally Tyler’d buy him shit, or something, but the time Tyler had gotten Jamie some nicer sunglasses Jamie had thanked him, but given him an odd look, and he still wore his old ones.

But for now, Tyler’s…happy. Sure, the ranch is a little quiet, but he likes working with animals, and how he’s getting enough of a hang of the ranch that he actually feels like he’s being helpful sometimes, and hanging out at the bar even with its shitty beer and janky sound system, and he likes Jamie. He lies Jamie a lot.

“Yeah, you’ve said,” Brownie tells him, patient even though Tyler’s told him about Jamie’s thighs a hundred times, probably. Tyler loves his bro. “Are you sure, though? This place looks weird.”

“What do you mean?” Tyler asks, defensive. The ranch is fucking great.

“The pictures on the website make it look like it’s in the 40s, that’s all.” Tyler makes a face, and pulls out his laptop. Brownie’s not wrong.

“Has anyone redone your website in the past forever?” He asks Jamie, knocking on the office door. Jamie looks up from his computer, with the pinched expression he always gets when he’s been thinking about the accounts. Tyler doesn’t want to ask, because it’s none of his business, but he knows what everyone says about farms and how shitty the business is nowadays.

“Um, I don’t know. I think my dad got someone to make it a while ago? We haven’t had the money to hire someone.” Jamie flushes, like he always does when he as to admit to shit like that.

“Bro, you know that like, it’s all about marketing these days, right?” Tyler asks. “Do you even have social media?”

“I don’t know, I think Jenny does—“

“OH, wow, your twitter hasn’t been updated for literal years.” Tyler shakes his head. “Come on, you have adorable animals as your business, how is this nor working?”

“We’ve been busy trying to run a business,” Jamie snaps, that temper of his—slow to rise, but Jamie’s seen him blow up at some teenager who was throwing rocks at the cows—coming in.

“Yeah, right,” Tyler mutters. Obviously this is none of his business. “Clearly I know nothing about that.”

“Fuck, Ty—“ Jamie takes a breath, runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t—I just don’t know about shit like that, okay? Jordie made me shut down my twitter after I did some stupid drunk tweets.”

“Okay, I need to see those, first,” Tyler informs him. “And. Yeah. Okay. So you don’t mind if I take some photos of the calves?”

“No? I don’t see why—“

“Trust me,” Tyler tells him, patting his thigh, and Jamie looks up at him, no hesitation.

“Of course.”

Tyler swallows. It’s so easy. It makes Tyler feel like he deserves it. Like he wants to be the kind of guy who deserves it.

8) Then—Tyler’s mom calls, and says it’s time he can come home.

She calls Tyler, then Jamie separately, to finalize the payments. So Tyler’s already packing when Jamie knocks on his door. Jamie’s not surprised, that he’s getting out of here as fast as he can. He’s just.

Well, he knew what was going to happen, didn’t he?

“So your flight’s tomorrow?” He asks.

“Yeah, bright and early.” Tyler surveys his room. A lot of his shit’s moved to Jamie’s in the past few months, so there’s actually not too much here. “God, I can’t wait to see everyone. Brownie’s been texting me nonstop since I told him, we’ve got so much to catch up on.”

“Right.” Jamie swallows. “Good. I’m glad you get to go home.” He’s not going to be an asshole about this, he’s not.

“And mom got a new dog! She’s got to meet her nephews.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, and Tyler turns to look at him. Jamie tries, he really does, but Tyler’s managed to get good at reading him, these past months. His hand comes up, rests on Jamie’s cheek.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Jamie echoes. “I—fuck it, never mind.” He turns on his heel, to go downstairs, to go out with the animals who don’t leave him behind. Who are his, his land, his town.

“Jamie! Come on, what’s wrong?” Tyler follows him down the stairs. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Jamie says, tight. “Have fun in the city. Maybe think about us when you eat some ice cream, if you use real cream.”

“What?” Tyler’s arms cross over his chest. “Think about you?”

“If you have the time.”

“If I—what the hell?” Tyler demands. “Are you breaking up with me?” He throws it at Jamie, but Jamie’s known him well enough to hear what’s underneath it.

“It’s not—you’re leaving,” Jamie says. It’s obvious.

“Yeah, so? They’ve got things called phones now? And FaceTime?”  He’s getting paler, as Jamie shakes his head. “Are you honestly dumping me when you can’t get laid all the time anymore?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Jamie snaps. “I just don’t want to draw out you breaking my heart.”

“So you’re going to break mine now?” Tyler retorts. “Fuck you.”

Maybe this is easier,  Jamie thinks. Maybe it is easier like this.

“Fine,” he says, and takes a breath. Straightens. He’s fine here. He’ll be fine again. “Good luck, Ty. I mean it.”

Tyler glares, and Jamie goes outside.

9) He doesn’t see Tyler again before he leaves.

10) Tyler goes home, because fuck Jamie. Fuck Jamie and his ranch and his earnestness and his thinking Tyler would just forget about him. Tyler wishes he could forget about Jamie. He tries. Tyler goes out to a party the second night he’s back, after spending the first with his mom, pretending like she doesn’t see right through him. He goes out and dances and drinks and finds a guy and tells himself he is definitely going to hook up with him. He definitely is, and who cares who might have a camera, who might see and talk about wild, scandalous Tyler Seguin—

Except. Except he can’t help but see Jamie’s face, and of course, and fuck him. Fuck him for ruining this too. Fuck him for making Tyler think he doesn’t need this.

Tyler gets home by 1. He can’t help but notice his mom’s smile, the next morning.

So partying doesn’t work, so Tyler tries something else. It doesn’t take much research to find a shelter, which seems up his alley. And it’s—it is fun, because it’s playing with puppies, and that’s never work, but. It’s not the ranch. It doesn’t have the same feel to it. Tyler’s volunteering, sure, but he’s not—he’s not adding something a five year old couldn’t do. (There’s no Jamie, Tyler knows. That’s the difference. But Jamie hadn’t wanted him in the end, he’d figured out that Tyler wasn’t worth keeping without sex, and that’s. Not unexpected.).

Then Jenny shows up at his door.

“Hi,” he says, too confused not to let her in. Or maybe to resist her pushing her way in. “Yeah, come in.”

She makes it to the entranceway before she turns on him. It’s like a weird dream, having a Benn standing here, in his house. “I told him it was a bad idea,” she says, like they’d started the conversation already. “I told him it would fuck him up, but did he listen to his older, wiser sister? Of course not.”

“What—“

“My brother,” she says, stabbing a finger at him, “Has been miserable.”

It’s a weird mixture of feelings that evokes in Tyler; he never wants Jamie to be unhappy, but there’s a visceral satisfaction in it too. “So?” He manages to ask. “He broke up with me.”

She snorts. “You can’t break something with an end date.”

“We didn’t have an end date he didn’t put on it,” Tyler snaps. She rolls her eyes.

“Come on. Like you were ever planning to stay with him when you were done with us.”

“Of course I was,” Tyler retorts. She rolls her eyes again, all condescension.

“And what, show him off to your fancy city friends? Your hick boyfriend? Sure.” She shakes her head. “We all knew what it meant.”

“Yeah, I’d have introduced my boyfriend,” Tyler says, trying to keep calm. He would have. He—it’s weird enough having Jenny here, he thinks. It’s true. What would Jamie do here? At one of the parties, like last night? He would have. He would have. “What are you doing here, anyway?” He asks, because that’s—too much. “So Jamie’s miserable. I’m doing great.”

She snorts again. “Unlike my brother, I actually have an Instagram, Tyler. Tell me another one.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” He tries again. “If you’re so sure it’ll never work out.”

“I…” she sighs. “You left it on a bad note. I know Jamie feels especially bad about that.” Of course he told her. The Benns don’t keep secrets from each other. “Maybe if you talk…”

“Then he can call me.”

“I tried that. He thinks you’ve already forgot about him.” She shakes her head. “I think he’s just trying to keep it a clean break, for his own sake, but—it’s not really clean. Not like this.” She looks at him again, and she doesn’t have her brother’s eyes at all, but it’s still somehow close. “Look, if you’re actually happy, let it go and he’ll get over it, but—think about it. Maybe it’ll help you both.”

11) She leaves. Tyler thinks about it. About we all knew and breaking my heart and forgot about him. About the shelter and the ranch.

Then it’s a lot, so he goes on Instagram, because that’s easy. That he knows.

Except he scrolls through until he finds a picture he took, the one he managed to sneak of Jamie holding a calf, feeding a bottle. It’s gotten good pick up, and not all because of the guy.

Tyler can’t look away from the guy though, the way he’s holding the calf in his arms, the way his face is caught between laughing irritation at Tyler taking the picture and fondness at the cow. He thought even then that this was only a thing until Tyler left, Tyler thinks. He’d thought it was only for slice of time, and he’d still turned down Tyler’s gifts, still smiled at Tyler like he didn’t want anything else, anything more.

The next picture’s of the ranch too, the sign against a sunset. It’s gotten really good engagement, actually. And a comment, a ‘are they sustainably farmed? Link please!’

Which. Huh. Tyler turns that over. Thinks about it, too.

And makes a choice.

12) Jamie’s hot, and tired, and he needs a good shower after he’d spent the whole day dealing with a sick cow who they’d had to move into the barn. It’s hot, sweaty work, but it’s also the kind of physical work that Jamie’s good at, that keeps his head in the game and not anywhere else. Say, a city thousands of miles away. Where it has no business being.

He’s considering how to escape Jordie’s continued campaign to get him to go out to the bar that night, like hooking up with someone else could wash Tyler away, when he comes into the yard and—Tyler’s there.

Jamie blinks. He doesn’t think heart break causes hallucinations. But—the other options is Tyler is back here, sitting on the stoop in the ranch yard, wearing the jeans and sneakers like he was planning to work and not the designer stuff he had arrived in before. Looking at Jamie like he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Um. Tyler?” Jamie asks, and Tyler scrambles to his feet.

“Hi. Jamie.” Tyler grins, and it’s as big and overwhelming as it ever was.

“What are you doing?” Jamie asks. His heart’s beating loud in his ears. This is the hurt he wanted to avoid.

“Yeah. So. Here’s the thing. You need a marketing person.”

“Tyler—”

“There’s a whole untapped social media market out there, look. I posted a picture and I got like, a dozen requests for a link.” Tyler’s pulling out his phone, like he’s going to demonstrate it, that hint of nervous he’d have when he needed someone to tell him he was doing a good job. “You can really expand here, and—“

“Tyler,” Jamie interrupts again. He’s sure Tyler’s right, this is what Tyler’s good at, but. Jamie feels ripped open. “Why are you here?” He swallows. “I thought you were back home. Not thinking about” me “us.”

“Yeah, funny story.” Tyler’s smile isn’t very amused. “So this guy broke my heart.” Jamie really doesn’t want to hear this.

“Ty—“

“Turns out, he’s got this complex, see. Thinks that he’s forgettable. Like I could ever forget about him.” Tyler shakes his head, tsking his tongue, but he’s not looking away from Jamie.

“You went home.” Jamie knows that, even if Tyler’s back here, with the hot sun on their necks. “You went back to the city. This isn’t your home.”

Tyler takes a second, squaring his shoulders, like he’s gathering courage. Then, “But it could be,” he says, and he sounds—hopeful and trying not to hope at once, like he could be casual. “I—could help out on the ranch, and do the marketing, and—”

“You got bored here for three months,” Jamie cuts him off, before he can start to hope. This place is in Jamie’s bones and blood, but he gets it’s not for everyone. “You couldn’t get back to the city fast enough, I saw—”

“Because I missed people. But that’s what visiting is for.” Tyler swallows again. “I haven’t—I’ve never felt like I could actually be useful, until I came here. Until you trusted me with this. There’s nothing back h—back there, that feels like this. But I can help, and—“

“We can’t pay you.” Jamie feels like he’s throwing things at a wall, but he needs—he can’t. This is too much, too terrifying, too everything he wants.

Tyler smirks, suddenly. “You’ll be able to once I’m done.”

“Tyler,” Jamie says again, because it’s all he can say. “Are you sure?” If he wasn’t—Jamie knows that heartbreak would be so much worse.

Tyler nods, brilliant and bold and reckless. “Can I stay?”

Jamie’s officially done with words, so he grabs Tyler and kisses him instead, and Tyler kisses him back just as desperate, like he doesn’t notice the sweat or the heat or any of it. Like he’s coming home.

[damn-stevens]

Legion S2, eps 1-3 thoughts

What I love so far: 

THE. DANCE. OFF. (DUHHH.)

I love everything about Cary/Kerry in this season. Well who doesn’t love everything ever about them, right? But watching Kerry being traumatized by participating in basic biological functions is both funny and really sad. Does she really hate doing boring everyday stuff that much? Is being on the “inside” really that great? It didn’t look great. I adored the “Tra la la, la la la la...” bit though.

Dan’s body is INSANE right now. He’s not quite “The Guest” ripped, but he’s still awesomely muscled. His arms are friggin huge. I loved it when he was crouched like a time-traveling Terminator carved out of marble in ep.1. And the homoerotic wrestling, of course.

I know that John Hamm is most likely just a narrator voice for the lecture segments, but I’d really be excited if he showed up later as a full-fledged character like Oliver did. Everything about the “educational” scenes are fascinating, and I wonder if they’re just there to hint to us what we’re supposed to be getting out of this, or if they’ll later become part of the plot in some way.

Navid Negahban + Dan Stevens makes me SO SO happy. They are both great performers and seem well-matched against each other. Amahl Farouk and David don’t seem to know each other, not really, because it feels like Farouk was removed in some Inception-like inner plane of existence while he let a part of him manipulate David using his “masks”. He appears honestly surprised by David’s abilities, as if he were seeing them for the first time. I don’t know what Farouk’s reality and mind are like, but I suspect it’s very alien to ours. He keeps trying to assert his godhood to David, and I think this is a bit of bluster. He doesn’t have his body anymore and he’s diminished, and the way he says “I’m not a cockroach for you to step on” feels like he knows that David is unlearned but potentially much more powerful than he is. He refuses to acknowledge this, though.

Melanie’s text-only adventure game maze. How HER. Surprisingly geeky, completely opaque, and near impossible to figure out because of how little info she gives you.

Lenny. Everything Lenny. Forever.

Ok, so the title of the scene “Chapter 4: Umwelt” led me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole of terms that are significant to this season. It’s some complex shit though. I started with “Umwelt” and moved on to “Cartesian Theater”. These are two interesting philosophical topics, especially in context to Cary/Kerry and how their ability to function as a literal Cartesian Theater is turned inside out by the SK crew.

Terms of Interest:

Umwelt

Cartesian Theater

Organizing Principle - this was a term used in the Fukuyama/Vermilion speech about his origins.

Memetics

Dualism

Cybernetics : I wouldn’t be surprised if this word comes up in one of the show’s lecture segments. It relates to both animals and machines in regards to systems of control and communication. Perceptions of reality and technology are both clearly important in this season. How Fukuyama and the Vermilion view reality in contrast to non-mechanical lifeforms will certainly be a topic.

Cinnabar - Ok, this word is here because it relates to Fukuyama and the Vermillion. “Fukuyama” is another name for what we call Mt. Fuji, the famous active volcano in Japan. The Japanese name for it,“Fujiyama”, predates kanji and has nebulous origins, but basically can be translated to mean “immortal” and “without equal” (so another reference to gods?). So what is cinnabar and wtf does it have to do with anything? Well it’s “the historic source for the brilliant red or scarlet pigment termed vermilion” and it “generally occurs as a vein-filling mineral associated with recent volcanic activity”. Admiral Fukuyama clearly likes volcanoes; he even brought them up in the speech that the Vermillion gave about how he became the way he is. And oh btw? Vermilion powder is used in Buddhist religious ceremonies to mark the forehead (like on the monks of Mi-Go) and is poisonous (but we already knew that anything red on this show is “bad”. Maybe. Unless red is green? ;) )

Theories: 

- There’s characters who are doing some time traveling (actually probably a LOT of time traveling) that we’re not being told about as of yet. For instance, I think whenever David is talking to himself in his head, this is a present/future David interaction and maybe the time traveler is hitching a ride in the other one’s body (I won’t bother trying to guess which one is which). 

- A big question for me right now is “Who is actually under that basket head?” Three options, as far as I’m thinking right now: Farouk, David, or an actual Admiral Fukuyama who will be revealed later. But I think whoever it is, they’re involved in some time traveling as well. Given that we can’t see who’s under there, it could conceivably be more than one person wearing the basket at different times. 

- The Vermillion trouble me, mostly because of the uncertainty of their true nature and because Future Syd always has her neck covered - just bear with me here and I’ll explain. Future Syd doesn’t speak when first introduced, and then speaks in a distorted, electronic voice in her second appearance. Her “lost arm” is more easily visible in the 2nd ep, and it appears very mechanical. So did she lose an arm, or was it not finished being assembled...or perhaps both? I think you can see where I’m going with this...she’s a Vermillion copy, although she most likely does have Syd’s mind inside of her. I suspect in the future they’re hiding in Vermillion bodies so that their minds can’t be interfered with psychically. Sadly this leaves them open to being manipulated like a puppet by Fukuyama, and maybe that’s why Future Syd looked so sad in her first appearance.

- Farouk’s storage “coffin” is also an “egg” (cute throwback to ep 1). So who possessed and broke his body out from the monastery? Future David? Future Lenny? Fukuyama? Oliver?

- The Minotaur and the Cow. I think they’re related somehow. Dunno if the Minotaur is actually a bad thing, though. If Lenny created the “monster chick” (and I think she made it without Farouk’s knowledge) then possibly Oliver made the Minotaur for Melanie? No idea what the cow is about yet.

- I’m thinkin if the Big Bad isn’t Fukuyama then it might be Lenny (whatever Lenny actually IS at this point in her existence). We know she’s picked up tricks from both David and Farouk and she wants her freedom. She kept asking Farouk to make her a body and let her go, but he seems to think of her as now being something beyond a simple human mind that would expire upon death. She’s potentially dangerous or troublesome for him. 

- Or, then again, this could be a person/force that has yet to be introduced. Or hell, even Oliver, who’s been hanging around in the background seeming to be a mindless puppet of Farouk. I suspect not, however. He’s probably clandestinely working to help the good guys of the future in his “spare time”. Oliver’s very good at keeping his cards close to his chest so it’s hard to say for sure. But the scene where he talks to himself in the desert confirms that something’s up with him, imo.

This show hurts my fookin head but I can’t help but endlessly think about it in this way and I really love that.

[liliannorman]

How an encounter with this odd-looking bird inspired a career

For Kevin Burgio, the journey to becoming a successful scientist wasn’t easy. When he was young, life was hard. Burgio’s father left before he was born. His mother had dropped out of high school, and she never had a lot of money. Burgio knew he was different from other kids, and deep down, he knew he was bisexual when he was only 11 or 12. He didn’t tell anyone then, and was still bullied during his school years. But he managed to graduate and joined the Air Force. After several years in the military, Burgio left and went to college, eventually receiving his PhD in ecology and evolutionary biology from the University of Connecticut in 2017. 

Kevin Burgio uses camouflage paint to disguise himself as he looks for nesting field sparrows, indigo buntings and prairie warblers in Southbury, Conn. Christopher Field

Now Burgio is an ecologist working at both the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, N.Y., and the University of Connecticut in Storrs. He has become an expert on extinct species such as the Carolina parakeet. Burgio has pieced together where the bright green parrot once lived in the eastern half of the United States. Now he’s trying to figure out why it went extinct

Burgio also tries to help other people in and out of the sciences. He manages programs that help students learn how to become scientists. It still isn’t easy. He is an advocate for people like himself: single parents, sexual minorities and those living with physical disabilities or mental health issues. In this interview, Burgio shares his experiences and advice with Science News for Students. (This interview has been edited for content and readability. Please note that this story contains references to abuse.)

What inspired you to pursue your career?

I started college later in life, when I was 28, and had planned to go to dental school. When I started school, my hands kept shaking. I went to a neurologist and they told me I had “essential tremor.” (The incurable nervous system disorder can cause a person’s hands to shake). I had no idea what I was going to do. One day, I saw this woodcock outside my apartment window, and I had never seen anything like it. They’re weird. They look like a bowling ball with a beak on it. So I read about the bird online and found it really interesting.  

The next semester, I took an ornithology class. (Ornithology is the study of birds.) The professor asked me if I was doing research. I had no idea that undergraduates could even do anything like that. That professor became my undergraduate advisor, and I started working in her lab. She was also my PhD advisor and my postdoc boss. I stayed in her lab for 11 years.

How did you get where you are today?

Some of it is luck. I think my decision to leave home helped. I didn’t want to go to the military, but it was worth it to get away. I didn’t like it, but I did well. I rose to the rank of Air Force staff sergeant before I got out. When it came to grad school, it was difficult to take care of my daughter (Hannah, who is now nine) and the household and a marriage and take classes, and do research and teach. But I just did it.

I guess it’s just this mentality that in the end, it will be worth it. I want to have a job that means something. All of the jobs that I’ve had have all been in service to something bigger than myself. I’ve just never been happy not doing more.

How do you get your best ideas?

Talking to friends, really, and you start riffing about ideas. I kind of liken it to a band sitting together, writing songs. “What about this riff? What about this drum line here?” You just kind of riff with your friends or people you do research with, based on, “I read this cool paper and check this out. It had this cool thing.” And, “Oh, I wonder if we had this kind of data, could we do something similar?” Or, “What about this study was missing that we think would add a really cool dimension to it?” 

For me, it’s just surrounding myself with other people who are also very curious and also like to talk about ideas. And that’s really where a lot of my good ideas come from. It’s really a group experience, which is part of why I like it so much. 

What’s one of your biggest successes?

Seeing my name in print for the first time was just an indescribable feeling. I think that made it real for me, like, wow, I’m actually a scientist. 

Now I have a paper coming out soon that looks at the global diversity of parrots. One figure in it is, I think, the best thing I’ve ever done. It shows the family tree of parrots, over a picture of Gondwana breaking up. Gondwana is the supercontinent that South America, Africa, Australia and New Zealand all used to be part of. As that broke up into the continents that we know better now, some families of parrots drifted away with the continents. 

I put all these really cool 1800s pictures of different types of parrots on the map of Gondwana to illustrate how the birds’ diversity is explained by the breakup of the continent. Here are the macaws, for instance, they’re in South America. And the lovebirds, they’re over in Africa. The things I really love all came together to illustrate this really complicated set of ideas. You can learn a lot about parrots just through looking at that one map. 

What’s one of your biggest failures, and how did you get past that?

This 19th-century painting by John James Audubon shows a flock of very colorful Carolina parakeets. The bird species, once common in the eastern half of the United States, went extinct about 80 years ago.John James Audubon

My biggest failure in science thus far is my inability to explain how the Carolina parakeet went extinct (the bird went extinct about 80 years ago, for still unknown reasons). I’ve been working on this for seven years. I’ve read lots of historical accounts, including travel diaries from Meriwether Lewis and William Clark (the famous explorers traveled through and mapped the western United States in the early 1800s). And I never figured it out.

That’s the thing about science, a lot of the time, you start out with a really clear idea of what you think is going to happen. And it almost never happens that way. I’ve gotten a lot out of this research. I’ve learned a lot about the species. But there’s just some things that maybe we’ll never know. Ultimately, I had to accept that maybe I’ll figure it out one day, maybe I won’t. But that’s OK. 

And I’ve used all the tools that I developed in many other ways. I developed those skills for the Carolina parakeet, but I’ve also used them on other species, such as the Tasmanian tiger. The last of these animals died in Tasmania in Australia some 90 years ago. I’ve also used those skills to look into why birds went extinct from the world’s most remote inhabited islands, Tristan da Cuhna, in the south Atlantic, in the 1800s. 

What do you do in your spare time?

I spend my weekends with my daughter. I really love spending time with her because, like me, she’s very curious about the world. I got her a telescope and we go stargazing. She’s really into rockhounding too. I like to explore the world with her because it’s different from how I was brought up, where I was isolated and I didn’t really interact with anyone. I want to share the world as I see it because it’s just so beautiful and amazing. We also play video games a lot, and I take her to hockey games. 

Kevin Burgio and his daughter, Hannah, share a moment in Casco, Maine. The pair spend time together stargazing, rockhounding and watching hockey.Lauren Gillespie

In my other spare time, I really like to restore vintage things like cast iron pans, chairs and old knives. I had to read a lot about America in the 1800s to find data about the Carolina parakeet. I learned a lot about the iron industry and how cast iron pans were made. Now I can look at a cast iron pan and probably tell you in what year it was made.

What piece of advice do you wish you had been given when you were younger?

When I was five, I had a sister who died. She was four at the time. That was really the catalyst for a lot of the physical and sexual abuse that I dealt with. I do wish that I asked for more help when I needed it when I was younger. All it would have taken me was to go to a teacher and say something like, “I’m hurting. I’m struggling. I don’t know what to do. I’m in pain.” And I just never did it.

I wish I could’ve told myself, “when you need help, ask for it.” It might be embarrassing. It might be painful. It might be hard to do. But I feel like I would have benefited so much from someone knowing and caring and doing something to help me get out of that situation instead of waiting until I could just leave on my own. 

That’s part of the reason why I’m so open about these things publicly. At the end of the day, if I haven’t done anything to improve the lives of people who have gone through the same stuff that I have gone through, I don’t think I could live with myself.

This Q&A is part of a series exploring the many paths to a career in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It has been made possible with generous support from Arconic Foundation.

How an encounter with this odd-looking bird inspired a career published first on https://triviaqaweb.tumblr.com/

[mybigfatclichetitle]

So this Wednesday we hit Alexander the Great. I was thinking in class about who the most known people of all time are, and trying to remember the first time I heard about Alexander the Great. I’m pretty sure it was my brother who told us about the Gordian knot when he learned about it, which was some time in elementary school. I was thinking in terms of historical figures, Jesus, definitely more famous, Alexander the Great, Socrates, and maaaaybe Napoleon are the most commonly known historical figures.

The pictures above are actually Alexander the Great who features as a major character in the Yu Gi Oh (anime, from Japan) offshoot Capsule Monsters. (This reminds me of the whole Aslan-is-Jesus thing from the Chronicles of Narnia, but where that was hinted, this was straight up “My name is Alexander. Like you I also ruled Egypt at one point.)

How much time did he spend cultivating this image? I imagine any memorable leader has learned the importance of building a legacy. [Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “The World was Wide Enough fades in]

But then again, at least in archaic Greece, Powell emphasized that authority in Greece didn’t come from divine sources. But in Egypt it did, so maybe that was something he adapted.

[newstechreviews]

John Thompson Jr. won a single NCAA basketball title. He never appeared in another Final Four after his Georgetown teams reached three national title games in four seasons from 1982 through 1985. And he hadn’t coached a team in more than two decades, since stepping away from Georgetown in 1999.

But that, ultimately, never mattered. His power never waned. Thompson, who was the first Black coach to win an NCAA basketball title, died Sunday at age 78. Other coaches have hung more banners. But no coach of his generation, in any sport, was more influential than the 6-foot-10 man who roamed the sidelines of the Big East conference with a white towel draped over his shoulder in the 1980s and 90s. His rise signaled the emergence of college basketball as a multi-billion dollar enterprise—and helped to usher in a new Black influence on American culture that was as unmistakable as it was irreversible.

Thompson’s all-Black teams, who came to prominence in President Ronald Reagan’s 1980s America, relished playing an uncompromising full-contact style that made many college basketball fans, in particular white ones, uncomfortable. While hip-hop ascended in the entertainment sphere, Georgetown made its statement in the sports world: Thompson touted how Georgetown sold more hats, jackets and other merchandise than any other program. And when racial resentment came his way, he didn’t play nice. Thompson fought it head-on.

Read more: Why Jacob Blake’s Shooting Sparked an Unprecedented Sports Boycott

He spotted systemic racism far before the term became part of the vernacular, walking off the court right before a game in 1989, in protest of NCAA eligibility regulations he felt were inherently stacked against the young Black athletes that college basketball, as an institution, was purporting to uplift. His passing is even more acute, and instructive, in this moment. He took social stances at a time when few sports figures sought to do so.

Today’s athletes walking off the courts and fields of play, in protest of the shooting of Jacob Blake and other instances of police violence, are carrying on his legacy. John Thompson helped pave the way. “In the world of college basketball, Coach Thompson is certainly in a class by himself,” says Todd Boyd, professor of race and culture at the University of Southern California and author of Young, Rich, Black and Famous: The Rise Of The NBA, the Hip Hop Invasion, and the Transformation of American Culture. “He didn’t win as any titles as John Wooden and Coach K. But what he meant to the sport of college basketball is in many ways far more important than championships.”

Not that Thompson’s impact on the game itself wasn’t profound. In his nearly 27 seasons as Georgetown coach, Thompson compiled a 596-239 record, winning the 1984 national championship over Houston, and reaching the national title games in 1982 and 1985; for 19 straight seasons, from 1978 through 1996, his teams reached at least No. 16 in the AP national polls; 10 times Georgetown broke the top five.

Teams like the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV), which won the 1990 NCAA championship; Michigan’s Fab 5, who reached two straight title games in 1992 and 1993—and introduced baggy shorts to gyms across the U.S.; and Arkansas, whose pressing “40 Minutes of Hell” style catapulted the Razorbacks to a national title in 1994 and runner-up the following year, borrowed Georgetown’s DNA. These teams all defined an era of college basketball, and the allure of March Madness, for a generation of fans. “We had a very nasty disposition,” former Georgetown center Alonzo Mourning told TIME in a 2014 interview. “We played hard-nosed, rough, very defensive-minded, in-your-face basketball. But a lot of teams kind of stole that persona to help them win. UNLV. Arkansas. ‘Wow, it worked for them, maybe it’ll work for us too.’”

Mitchell Layton–Getty ImagesAllen Iverson is pictured with John Thompson, head coach of the Georgetown Hoyas, during a basketball game on Jan. 10, 1995 in Landover, Maryland.

Thompson can also be credited with helping to build ESPN into the behemoth it is today. In the early 1980s, college basketball games, particularly Big East rivalry matchups like Georgetown-Syracuse, were the crown jewel of the upstart network’s programming: the Hoyas were always a draw. Future NBA Hall of Fame players, like Mourning, Patrick Ewing, Dikembe Mutombo and Allen Iverson, were mentored by Thompson. On social media Monday, both Mourning and Iverson said Thompson “saved my life.” Thompson particularly molded Iverson; during his senior year of high school, Iverson was convicted for his role in a bowling alley brawl. For many programs, he became untouchable. Thompson took a chance on Iverson: his convictions were overturned, Iverson was a first-team All-American at Georgetown, and went No. 1 in the loaded 1996 NBA draft.

Thanks For Saving My Life Coach. I’m going to miss you, but I’m sure that you are looking down on us with a big smile. I would give anything just for one more phone call from you only to hear you say, “Hey MF”, then we would talk about everything except basketball……. pic.twitter.com/03yj4gZv5q

— Allen Iverson (@alleniverson) August 31, 2020

The world has lost a revolutionary icon and a leader.⁣ ⁣ Today, I have lost a father figure, life long coach, and one of my greatest mentors. Coach Thompson, saved my life…. continuously motivating and molding me into the man that I am today. ⁣ ⁣ pic.twitter.com/jM7vqYOPLX

— Alonzo Mourning (@iamzo33) August 31, 2020

Mutombo calls Thompson a father figure. Thompson made Mutombo, who didn’t start playing basketball until his late teens, do sprints with the point guards so he could learn how to outrun lumbering big men. “From the day I walked in, he says, ‘Son, I don’t care how many points you score,'” Mutombo told TIME in an interview Monday night. “‘As long as you go out there and block as many shots as you can, and get as many rebounds as you can, I can make you a millionaire.’ And I think he didn’t lie to me.” (When Mutombo’s foundation built a $30 million hospital in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the four-time NBA defensive player of the year who played 18 seasons in the NBA says he personally contributed more than $24 million to the effort.)

“All of that comes from the work ethic I learned from John Thompson,” Mutombo says. “Five to six hours a day in the gym. Don’t be a quitter. He made me into the famous Dikembe Mutombo I am today.”

And Thompson, according to Mutombo, was fond of reminding of his former center of this, in nearly every conversation they had. “You were his son,” says Mutombo. “Never a stranger.” Mutombo says he wasn’t able to sleep Sunday night or do much on Monday; when he joined a Zoom meeting Monday, he grabbed a sport coat he last wore while visiting Thompson for a Georgetown game in March—before the pandemic shut-down. He found a pass to the Georgetown locker room hanging on the jacket. “Oh, Big John,” Mutombo says. “Big John. Big John.”

Mitchell Layton–Getty ImagesJohn Thompson, head coach of the Georgetown Hoyas, and Dikembe Mutombo during a game on Dec. 15, 1991 at Capitol Centre in Landover, Maryland.

Thompson’s influence extended far beyond the court. In the 1980s, “there was a new generation of Blackness that was circulating through the culture,” says Boyd, who walked around campus with a towel over his shoulder to emulate Thompson as a student at the University of Florida during this time. “To own a Georgetown Starter jacket was a huge status symbol. You got all kind of props in the streets. It was a real strong statement of Blackness. Georgetown is the first hip-hop team. It’s that moment when sports and popular culture are coming together, in a way that we kind of take for granted now.”

  Thompson had played as a backup to Bill Russell with the Boston Celtics in the 1960s and witnessed his legendary teammate advocate against the overt racism of that era. During the conservative Reagan-era, there were few outspoken Black college basketball coaches at the highest level. “Here’s a coach who is unapologetically Black,” says Boyd. “He’s not raising the octaves in his voice when he speaks. He’s not scratching when he doesn’t itch. He’s not laughing when things aren’t funny.”

Georgetown’s style, says Boyd, was “so Black … They played basketball the way it was played in the streets. No easy layups. Hard fouls. There was a swagger to them. It was more than the fundamentals of basketball. It was, ‘We are going to get in your head, and make you uncomfortable to the point where you’re going to question how bad you really want this.'” Boyd doesn’t remember hearing the word “thug” gaining notable usage until it was applied to Georgetown basketball in the 1980s. Thompson, however, used such loaded language to his advantage. “If you’re going to call us ‘thugs’ and ‘brutes’ and ‘animals,’ OK, we’ll embrace that,” says Boyd. “And we’ll use it against you. So you have a reason to be afraid. This was a sentiment that was very popular at that time. And I think that Georgetown informed a great deal of that sentiment.”

Read more: How California’s Historic NCAA Fair Pay Law Will Change College Sports for the Better

According to Boyd, rappers of the late 1980s and early 1990s, for example, took some cues from Thompson and Georgetown. Thompson, meanwhile, sought to turn stereotypes inside out. “This idea that we’re not going to bend over backwards to prove to you we’re not what you say we are,” says Boyd. “Instead we’re going to embrace that, and now you figure out what you’re going to do.”

“Pops didn’t go out of his way to try to say, ‘We aren’t hoodlums, we aren’t thugs,'” Ronnie Thompson, who played for his father from 1988-1992, told TIME in a 2014 interview. (His other son, John Thompson III coached Georgetown from 2004 to 2017 and reached the 2007 Final Four). “We just did what we did. He would always say, ‘You don’t have to spend a lifetime explaining to people who you are, because they’re going to have their own opinions.’ We would laugh, because we’d hear what we were supposed to be, and we’d go to the Big East banquet and see other teams that just looked horrible, teams that would show up in sweatsuits and T-shirts, and we’d be in coats and ties, and we’re supposed to be the ones with no class.”

During Thompson’s tenure, 97% of Georgetown players who stayed for years earned their degrees. “I couldn’t have given a damn,” John Thompson once told TIME, “what people thought about Georgetown basketball.”

Mark Tillmon, a starting guard for the Hoyas during most of his four years, remembered Thompson conducting ��mental practices” with his team; he’d sit down with his players and ask them about issue facing the world. He once asked the team what the thought about the controversy embroiling Jimmy “The Greek” Snyder, the NFL studio analyst for CBS who was fired in 1988 after making racist statements about the superiority of Black athletes. “Everyone answered, and I pretty much said nothing,” Tillmon said. “Boy, did he light into me. ‘All you want to do is read your own press clippings. You need to have an opinion about something, whether it’s right or wrong.’ From that day on, I’ve had an opinion about everything.”

A former Hoya basketball manager (now actor and writer) Markhum Stansbury Jr., wasn’t considering attending Georgetown until he saw how Thompson handled a 1985 incident at Syracuse, when a fan threw an orange towards Patrick Ewing while he was at the free throw line: Thompson took his team off the court. Thompson was a fierce protector of Ewing, the current Georgetown coach, who endured disgusting racist taunting during his playing career. In Philadelphia in 1983, a Villanova fan threw a banana peel on the court when Ewing ran out for pregame introductions. Thompson also took his team off the court after a Providence fan held up a “Ewing Can’t Read” sign that same year. “Sooner or later, I’m going to tell my players to go up and get the sign and then see what happens,” Thompson said.

Georgetown University/Collegiate Images/Getty ImagesPatrick Ewing and John Thompson, head coach of the Georgetown University Hoyas, pose for a photo during a game at McDonough Arena in Washington, D.C.

“It would have been very easy for him to just try and get along,” says Stansbury now. “He stood up for Patrick in that way, when he could have very easily said, ‘Hey, you know, this is what we’ve got to do.’ He used to talk about Jackie Robinson, and how Jackie Robinson wasn’t necessarily the best Black baseball player at the time, but he had the right temperament. Branch Rickey said, ‘Hey, you’re going to have to go through X, Y and Z. There were other guys who were better baseball player, but they weren’t going to take that s—t.’ And when he was at Georgetown, he’d say ‘We’re past Jackie Robinson. We’re not going to take that s—t.'”

Read more: The Story Behind Jackie Robinson’s Moving Testimony Before the House Un-American Activities Committee

Thompson was also tough on his players. “He wasn’t shy about using his profanity,” says former Hoya Jaren Jackson, who played a dozen seasons in the NBA from 1989 through 2002 and won an NBA title with the 1999 San Antonio Spurs. He recalls Thompson screaming and cursing him out, on national television, for letting out a smile late in a victory by Villanova, even though Jackson had played great, and the game was all but over.

“Anybody you talk to will tell you that for the first year, maybe even two, that they thought that their name was ‘motherf—r,'” says Stansbury.

Mutombo lets out his familiar loud, gravelly guffaw when asked if he agreed with this observation. He heard such language loud and clear when he missed a couple of classes one day. Mutombo says he had tooth pain, and forgot to call the basketball office to report he’d have to miss class. When he arrived for practice, Thompson cursed him out, and told him that there was a cab waiting outside to take him to the airport back home to the Congo. “I thought ‘What the heck, is this man serious?'” says Mutombo. “Or is he playing?” Mutombo cried by his locker when he found a one-way plane ticket home. He went to Thompson’s office and begged, through tears, that Thompson not send him home. Thompson finally said he’d forgive him, before instructing to “Get the f—k out'” of his office. “I never missed class no more,” Mutombo says.

At the same time, Thompson had a light and caring side. He had an ongoing joke with his players, taking credit for their love interests. “You’re a college kid, and you have the interest of girls on the campus or whatever, he felt like the reason [you] got that interest was not because of you, but because of him,” says Jackson. “I’m like, ‘This big dude, he’s talking some stuff; I’m like come on, coach.'”

Thompson put his arm around Fred Brown after the 1982 championship game, when Brown threw a pass right into the hands of North Carolina’s James Worthy in the final seconds, costing Georgetown a shot at the championship. Mutombo insists he was most concerned with his players’ lives after basketball. “For him, it was like what would you do when the ball stops bouncing?” says Mutombo. “Are you secure? Do you have your degree so you can go somewhere and get a job? That was more important to him than anything else. What kind of man are you going to become in society? What kind of contribution will you make?”

After George Floyd died, the Georgetown basketball alumni released a collective statement, demanding, among other things, “increased voter protection, an end to voter suppression and an end to gerrymandering.” Jackson thought of Thompson. “He would be so proud in a moment like this, his players speaking up in this manner,” Jackson says.

It’s not just the Georgetown players inspired by Thompson’s example. On TNT Monday night, former NBA players Shaquille O’Neal, Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith, plus studio host Ernie Smith, wore towels over their shoulders as a Thompson tribute. The dramatic actions across sports in the last week—strikes, walkoffs before games, demonstrations on behalf of Jacob Blake—carry Thompson’s imprint.

“Using his platform, using his visibility, coach Thompson famously walked off the court to make a point,” says Boyd, the USC professor. “So he understood that the cameras were on him, people were paying attention. What we saw last week with the NBA, which has been building for several years, is this recognition of the platform that playing professional sports provides someone with. This generation of Black athletes, and others who have decided to follow them, recognize that they’re visible. They have decided to take a stand. Coach Thompson is part of the lineage that brings us to where we are today.”

[theintrospectingowl]

Why Are South Korean Picture Books Vulgar, or Simply...Weird?

Looking at Heena Baek’s Picture books for children, vulgarity seems to be a running theme, and this is not only limited to Heena Baek’s picture books. If you walk around in the Children section of bookstores in South Korea and browse through popular (and often bestseller) picture books, vulgarity -- naked body images, farts, boogers, even poops!! --are all common materials for children’s picture books. Growing up in South Korea, I remember growing up reading books of such, looking at those images, and never really thinking that these images or materials can be seen “vulgar”. But when you present these books to a different audience situated in a different culture -- say, a group of first-year college students in a Midwest suburb (I know this because I tried it myself in my student teaching) -- the audience either 1) can’t stop laughing, or 2) gets triggered and real upset. I would say, these books with naked body images and farting scenes may be censored in North America to keep children “safe” from the harm of vulgarity. If a bunch of college freshmen was triggered by these images, I can only imagine how the parents of little children would react to. 

But why, though? Why are these images received uncomfortable in one culture but not in another? 

And as I start thinking about this subject, I don’t think this visual culture just pertain to South Korea. 

Have you ever seen these figurings called “Sonny Angel”?

These little male baby figurings are from Japan and they usually wear animal head shaped hats (or helmets?) and completely naked. They utilize “blind packaging” (From Sonny Angel Official Website), which means you won’t know what kind of Sonny angel you will get until you open the box, and the Website explains “He is always by your side to make you smile. Sonny Angel will provide healing moments in your everyday life”.

While some may speculate that there might be a reference to some kind of a messed up pedophilia with these little dolls, the culture -- as someone who spent most childhood and part adulthood immersed in this culture (as S.Korea is heavily influenced by Japanese culture) I can confidently argue -- is rather, well, quite normal. Or at least received as normal. These are supposed to be cute and endearing and that’s really, no, I mean it, really, the extent of it. (No matter how weird they seem). And also one aspect of it is the kind of primitive humor of naked images that comes from it. 

Same argument goes to the naked images of South Korean picture books, specifically in the example of Heena Baek’s 장수탕선녀님 (Longevity Bathhouse Nymph). It is safe to say that Longevity Bathhouse Nymph is not only full of naked body images but almost it is body images. 

The protagonist, “Dukji” goes to a public bathhouse called “Longevity Bathhouse” with her mom. And while trying to entertain herself, she meets n incredibly strange-looking lady. They spent a course of a day playing various games in the bathhouse. This lady reveals that she is not just a strange-looking lady, but she is in fact the nymph from the famous Korean folktale, “The Nymph and the Lumberjack”. Later, Dukji, playing too hard and playing in the cold bath, gets a cold but the strange-looking “Longevity House Nymph” comes back to Dukji and cures her. 

What’s really interesting about this story is the “re-telling” aspect of the storytelling and how the concept of “nakedness” in the Korean tradition is situated and represented in the picture book format. 

In the traditional folktale of “Lumberjack and the Nymph”, Nymphs come down from heaven (they live in heaven) and take a bath in a hot spring. The lumberjack, single and lonely, secretly watches the nymphs taking a bath behind a rock. He knows that what gives nymphs the ability to fly to heaven is their winged clothes. So he steals one of the nymph’s clothes, and hide it. The nymph, realizing this, hides herself behind a rock and cries alone when all her friends went back up to heaven. Lumberjack shows himself to the nymph (while not revealing that he hid the clothes) and offers his house as a shelter. They soon gets married and have three children. One night, the lumberjack couldn’t resist his conscience anymore and tells the nymph that it was him who hid the clothes, but refuses to give the clothes back to her. He cries -- something in the lines of -- “But what about the kids?!?!!?!?” 

The nymph, homesick, thinks of a trick and says something in the lines of, “Oh honey, you don’t have to give the clothes back to me. I am not going to go back. Why would I go when we have three children to take care of? So don’t worry about it. But.... I do miss my beautiful clothes, though. They are made of this gorgeous silk and... oh, well, I don’t really remember.... can I see it? Can I try it on, just one last time?” 

Fooled, lumberjack gives the nymph her clothes. As soon as she retrieves her clothes, she put it on, takes her three children in her arm (sounds impossible but the clothes gave her the power to fly so who knows?) and flies back to heaven, living the lonely lumberjack all alone. 

I just did a storytelling of the old Korean folktale from my memory. And this is not even impressive. I am 99% sure that most Koreans can do this storytelling in slightly different ways. The storytelling of folktale has an immense power in culture because it situates itself in a culture so powerfully that the stories repeat itself generations after generations. That’s the interesting part about Heena Baek’s picture book, The Longevity Bathhouse. To really understand this book, you need to understand the story of the old folktale that I just told you. 

What’s suggested in this “adaptation” or “retelling” of the storytelling is that the nymph never retrieves the winged clothes from the lumberjack. The nymph, a supernatural being, outlives the lumberjack, probably outlives the children, and now all alone and.... well, lost. She now lives in a public bathhouse -- which is hilarious -- and can only be seen by children probably because they stay curious and attentive to their surroundings. Oh and one important thing, she is an old woman in the picture book whereas she is the youngest nymph of all in the folktale. With this understanding, this story makes so much more sense and becomes way more interesting than as a story about a kid who meets a strange-looking lady. 

Then, maybe, this can explain something about the vulgarity of children’s picture books in South Korea. Just like the story of the nymph from the folktale was situated in the picture book, the vulgar or naked images in children’s picture books in general, are situated in the Korean culture in a way that is seen rather natural. Less tabooed than some cultures might. This aspect connects very well to and can be expanded to the concepts of visual literacy. 

Perry Nodelman, a celebrated scholar of children’s picture book, claimed reading of pictures heavily involves “cultural assumptions” (9). The reading of pictures is always “historical” and “depends on the reader’s knowledge” but further, “pictorial perceptions of people with different cultural backgrounds” are also hugely different (10). Like many things (almost everything, I must say), picture books are also deeply situated in a culture. Especially with platforms that utilize visual images, it is almost impossible interpret them without cultural knowledge since they are supposed to present ideas through what is seen, rather than what is read; what it “is”, rather than what is “about”, like Nick Sousanis analyzed about images and words in Unflattening, a dissertation written in the graphic form about visual thinking. In picture books, words usually accompanies images. But words and images not always work together. Words may explain or clarify images but they can also work together or play against each other (Nodelman, viii). It is almost impossible to avoid the gaps created in pictures and words because they are two separate narratives and the explanation of the gaps is not always provided. 

In conclusion, yes, I know, South Korean picture books can be vulgar, or... simply... pretty weird. Or at least that was the majority of reaction I got from my students who engage with the activity that involved reading Heena Baek’s picture books. However, I suspect that what we can learn about from this unique representations is that our reading of any images or visual storytelling involves “cultural assumptions” and we need to be aware that we are reading the stories from a different culture that we might project our own cultural knowledges to, but fails to help us understand. We need the open mind to accept something that is from a different culture but some background stories will also help, just like the case of “The Lumberjack and the Nymph”. 

Works Cited 

Nodelman, Perry. Words About Pictures, University of Georgia Press, 1988.

Sousanis, Nick. Unflattening. Harvard University Press, 2015. 

[shahrzada-blog]

♘ MEDIA INSPIRATION ♘

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Rose DeWitt Bukater (Movie: Titanic); Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia (Historical Figure); Princess Lia (Literature: The Remnant Chronicles); Kestrel (Literature: The Winner’s Trilogy)

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ROSE DEWITT BUKATER (TITANIC)

Jack: Rose, you’re no picnic, all right? You’re a spoiled little brat, even, but under that, you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl, woman that I’ve ever known… Rose: Jack, I— Jack: No, let me try and get this out. I’m not an idiot, I know how the world works. I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket, I have nothing to offer you and I know that. I understand. But I’m too involved now. You jump, I jump remember? I can’t turn away without knowing you’ll be all right… That’s all that I want. Rose: Well, I’m fine… I’ll be fine… really. Jack: Really? I don’t think so. They’ve got you trapped, Rose. And you’re gonna die if you don’t break free. Maybe not right away because you’re strong but…sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose…that fire’s gonna burn out… Rose: It’s not up to you to save me, Jack. Jack: You’re right…only you can do that.

Molly Brown: [to the group who are dining at the same table] Hey, uh, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce? Ismay: Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size, and size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength. Rose: Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you. Ruth: [whispering] What’s gotten into you? Rose: Excuse me. [She rises and leaves] Ruth: I do apologize. Molly Brown: She’s a pistol, Cal! Hope you can handle her. Cal: Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on, won’t I, Mrs. Brown?

Old Rose: I saw my whole life as if I’d already lived it. An endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great masterpiece, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared… or even noticed.

Rose: Teach me to ride like a man. Jack: [speaking with a southern American accent] And chew tobacco like a man. Rose: [trying to imitate the southern American accent] And spit like a man! Jack: What, they didn’t teach you that in finishing school?

Rose: [whispering to Jack] Next it will be brandies in the smoking room. Col. Archibald Gracie: [to everybody] Join me in a brandy, gentlemen? Rose: [whispering to Jack] Now they will retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe.

Rose: So you think you’re big tough men? [Rose takes Tommy’s cigarette and takes a pull] Rose: Then let’s see you do this. Hold this for me Jack. [lifts up her dress train] Rose: Hold it up! [Rose then slowly rises on her toes to complete a toe-stand] 3rd Class Woman: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Rose: I know what you must be thinking. “Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?” Jack: No, no, that’s not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was, what could’ve happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out?

Rose: Mr. Andrews, forgive me. I did the sum in my head and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned, forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard. Thomas Andrews: ‘Bout half, actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you?

Ruth: Do you understand me? Rose, I forbid it. Rose: Oh, stop it, mother. You’ll give yourself a nose bleed.

Rose: Jack… Mister Dawson, it’s been a pleasure. I’ve sought you out to thank you, and now I have thanked you. Jack: And even insulted me. Rose: Well, you deserved it.

Rose: You know, my dream has always been to run away and become an artist. Living in a garrett poor but free! Jack: You wouldn’t last 2 days. Theres no hot water and hardly any caviar.

♘

GRAND DUCHESS ANASTASIA NIKOLAEVNA OF RUSSIA (HISTORICAL FIGURE)

❝ Anastasia Nicolaievna, on the other hand, was very roguish and almost a wag. She had a very strong sense of humour, and the darts of her wit often found sensitive spots. She was rather an enfant terrible, though this fault tended to correct itself with age. She was also extremely idle, though with the idleness of a gifted child. Her French accent was excellent, and she acted scenes from comedy with remarkable talent. She was so lively, and her gaiety so infectious, that several members of the suite had fallen into the way of calling her “Sunshine,” the nickname her mother had been given at the English Court.

In short, the whole charm, difficult though it was to define, of these four sisters was theirextreme simplicity, candour, freshness, and instinctive kindness of heart. ❞ —Pierre Gilliard, Thirteen Years at the Russian Court

❝ The youngest of the four daughters and destined by history to become the most famous, Anastasia, said one courtier, was “quite unlike any of her sisters, with a type of her own.” Lili Dehn, one of the empress´s closest friends, called Anastasia “pretty” but noted that “hers was more of a clever face.” Her hair was dark blond with a slight golden tinge, and her features ‘were regular and finely cut.’ Above all else, it was her gray-blue eyes - “of great luminescence,” as Tatiana Botkin, daughter of the imperial family´s chief physician, Eugene Botkin, recalled - that attracted attention, vibrant “wells of intelligence,” according to Dehn, that were constantly moving and glowed with mischief.

This impression - that with Anastasia mischief was always lurking just beneath the surface - was one that the little girl herself cultivated from an early age. Perhaps, as the youngest of four girls and the least important of five children, she consciously grasped at opportunities - no matter how inappropriate - to assert her individuality, for she was certainly very different from her sisters in behaviour and temperament. There was something altogether irrepressible about her spirited energy, as if she knew no boundaries and feared nothing. Her aunt and godmother Grand Duchess Olga Alexanrovna nicknamed her “Shvibzik” (Imp), an Anastasia fully lived up to the designation. From an early age, said Dr. Botkin´s youngest son Gleb, Anastasia “undoubtedly held the record for punishable deeds in her family, for in naughtiness she was a true genius.” ❞  —Greg King & Penny Wilson, The Resurrection of the Romanovs: Anastasia, Anna Anderson, and the World’s Greatest Royal Mystery

♘

PRINCESS LIA (THE REMNANT CHRONICLES)

❝ I had always hidden my fears from others with sharp talk and bold gestures. How many times had she seen me trying to tame my breathing in a dark corridor of the citadelle after a nasty encounter with the Scholar when he told me I was deficient in my studies, social abilities, or any number of things where I fell short of what was expected. Or the many times I stood frozen at my chamber window blankly staring at nothing at all for as long as an hour, blinking back tears after another curt dismissal from my father. Or the times I had had to retreat to my dressing chamber and lock the door. I knew Pauline had heard me cry. The last few years, I hadn’t measured up in any way, and the more they pushed, molded, and silenced me, the more I wanted to be heard. ❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Kiss of Deception

❝ “Ancients pulled metals more precious than gold from the center of the earth—they spun into giant lacy wings that flew them to the stars and back.” “Is that what you’d do with wings?” She shook her head. ‘No, I’d fly to the stars, but I’d never come back.’ ❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Kiss of Deception

❝ DARKNESS WAS A BEAUTIFUL THING. THE KISS OF A SHADOW. A caress of soft as moonlight. It had always been my refuge, my place of escape, whether I was sneaking onto a rooftop lit only by the stars or down a midnight alley to be with my brothers. Darkness was my ally. It made me forget the world I was in and invited me to dream of another.❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness

❝ My emotions weren’t blinding and explosive, as they had been back then, but were now tight and contained, like an animal pacing behind the cage of my ribs. ❞ —Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness

♘

KESTREL (THE WINNER’S TRILOGY)

❝ “I like riddles,” said Kestrel. “Tell me one.”

“There is a riddle that I simply cannot figure out,” said the lady sitting next to Maris. “It is: I leap without feet to land, my cloth head is filled with sand. I have no wings, yet try to fly…what am I?”

Kestrel helped herself to some cream. She wasn’t angry anymore. The truth was that she, like her father, knew how good it felt to cut with certain weapons. She took a whitened sip of chocolate, the cream cool and pillowy against her lips. “Maris knows the answer to that riddle,” she said.

“I?” said Maris. “Not at all. I cannot guess it.”

“Can you not? The answer is a fool.”

Maris’s smile wilted. There was a silence broken only by the delicate clink of Kestrel setting her cup on the tray. She gathered her white furs about her and swept away. ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ …Kestrel had a knack for working her fingers through schemes, and sometimes she pulled the strings, and sometimes she tugged at the edges until she uncovered something she shouldn’t. ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ “I don’t mind being a moth. I would probably start eating silk if it meant that I could fly.” ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ “My character seems contradictory.” “Why?” “I don’t think you can be manipulative and kind at the same time.” He laughed. “You can.” ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Crime

❝ Once there was a girl who was too sure of herself. Not everyone would call her beautiful, but they admitted that she had a certain grace that intimidated more often than charmed. She was not, society agreed, someone you wanted to cross. She keeps her heart in a porcelain box, people whispered, and they were right.

She didn’t like to open the box. The sight of her heart was unsettling. It always looked smaller and bigger than she expected. It thumped against the white porcelain. A fleshy red knot.

Sometimes, though, she’d put her palm on the box’s lid, and then the steady pulse was a welcome music. ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Kiss

❝ “She could be useful.”

“You will not use her.”

“The general’s daughter? We’d be fools not to. You talk about her as if she’s made of spun glass. Know what I see? Steel.” ❞ —Marie Rutkoski, The Winner’s Kiss

[shakesonaplane]

A Weekend in Brussels: Waffles, Chocolates and Beers, Oh My!

Bonjour! Like most of you, the first things I think about when hearing the word “Belgian” are waffles, chocolate, and beer. So imagine my excitement when a weekend trip arose to this nestled western European country. Before we get started, I’ll just say right off the bat that, yes, you can really find loads of great beers, amazing chocolate and tasty gaufres (waffles) in many places all around this city. But Bruxelles (Brussels) is hiding a lot of other amazing gems that I stumbled upon whilst walking around, so here’s a recap of the aforementioned-glutinous-delights and the other jewels I found that weekend.

Also, whilst I know this is a “Shakes on a Plane” blog, I happened to just take the Eurostar straight to Brussels (took only 2hrs). So apologies, maybe today’s post will be considered “Shakes on a train”.

This was one of my favorite paintings from the Musée Oldmasters Museum, an incredibly detailed aerial view of medieval Brussels.

For those of you who are a little light on the culture of Belgium, it’s a predominately Dutch and French speaking country that sits between France and The Netherlands in Western Europe. Famous for many things, currently Brussels is very well known as the seat of the EU parliament which dominates nearly an entire section of the city that I spent my first night in upon arriving. Upon seeing the multitude of info and signage geared towards diplomats, politics, government, and bureaucracy, I think it’s no surprise that I scurried off as soon as I could to the less “official” and more “social” parts. No offense to politics, I just don’t really know that my American-expat opinions on Brexit are all that interesting to Jean-Claude Juncker and co.

A Museum Dedicated to Comics That Most of Us Don’t Know Much About

I didn’t realize how incredibly old-fashioned (and kinda racist) comics were back in the day

Off the beaten-path of your waffle/beer/chocolate endeavor is the comic book history of Brussels. I had no idea that Tin Tin was the creation of Brussels resident Hergé, only that the movie was an animated Steve Spielberg success in 2011. Turns out that not only can you find good Tin Tin related shopping in the comic book museum, but that you’ll notice little callouts to it across the city, including statues of characters just lounging around major tourist spots. To be fair, I’ve seen odder things that are celebrated by countries I’ve visited, but something here made me feel a little warmer about how the childhood nature of comics is still strongly appreciated in the same place as the EU Parliament. Something tells me a future comic “Tin Tin in Brexit Negotiations” or  “Tin Tin meets Donald Trump” would be a fun play on the current affairs of the world (spoilert alert: expect him to look quizzical all the time).

Speaking of Museums, Hope You Enjoy Like, All Kinds of Art

Once again yours truly had no idea what most of this art referenced so I sat staring at this piece for longer than I care to admit

It’s no secret that art mostly goes over my head. My idea of good art is something I can understand which really caused me grief when walking around the Magritte Museum. For those of you who aren’t familiar with René Magritte, he is maybe the most famous surrealist artist of the 20th century. If you’ve ever seen the apple-faced-business-man painting made famous in popular culture (aka “The Son of Man”), you’ve seen and probably appreciated Magritte’s work. As a person who struggled to understand the meaning of most of the art, I was blown away by the sheer volume and creativity of this one person, especially enjoying how this museum flowed through his life and years to distinctly display his mental change as the world changed with him. 

Seeing how often images from the Bible and are made to look incredibly European really makes me want to teach someone a history lesson on melanin through the ages

If you fancy more classical paintings and art, you’ll appreciate the Oldmasters Museum mentioned above (originally founded by Napoleon in 1801. This homage to more classical art (including a large Flemish collection) reminds me of a Louvre Jr. type collection, with great tapestries and historical / biblical depictions left and right. I was really struck with how involved the paintings by Aertsen and Bosch were, with such incredible detail even in the backgrounds that I hadn’t noticed till I was told (by someone far more learned at art) to look for. Also great to see is the interactive exhibition experience built by Google near the lobby created for some marquee ancient art. I would say if I could see something like this for all major artwork it would probably beat taking most art history courses due to the incredible details I may not have ever noticed.

Enjoy a Belgian Sense of Humor in Public

This is probably the most vulgar thing I’ve ever posted on this website and it’s not even the most vulgar peeing fountain in Brussels

Probably the biggest tourist attraction in Brussels (and oddly so) is the Pissing Boy (or Manneken Pis if you want to get sorta-Dutch about it). The only reason I can really explain for it is that it embodies their sense of humor (called “zwanze” in the Brussels' dialect) and their independence of mind. Personally I really wish I had caught the statue on a date where he was all dressed up or serving beer , but one can’t blame Belgium for not adhering to my silly whims. I will say this: any country that deems their humor enough of a national treasure that they build a pissing fountain is a place that I can get on board with. You’ll find this little guy (and his sister) near the Grand Place, maybe the most beautiful square in Brussels and a definite must see.

A Foodie Heaven, Even if You’re Not Really A Foodie

Maison Antoine has perhaps the best fries in Brussels, Belgium, or Europe, depending on who you ask…

I promise that at some point I did have beer, waffles and chocolate on this trip. But in between all that, I had to try to eat regular food (I know, I know, responsibility sucks). If you’ve ever talked to me about food, you’ve probably realized that I am not really a foodie. Whilst I really appreciate a good meal, I’m also content doing crazy shit like eating the same thing everyday whilst doing a workout regiment. So imagine my surprise at the relative ease-of-eating in Brussels. Finding great places to eat that are frequented by locals is relatively easy in this city, and as you’ll see on my map below, they’re well spread and easy to find. My favorites were easily Cafe des Spores (a restaurant designed around inclusion of mushrooms in all dishes), Les Dillens (a late night casual eatery with great grub) and Fin de Siècle (great for classic Belgian fare). Also, to indulge my caffeine-fiend everyday, wonderful coffee has made it’s way to Brussels as well.

Finally to the Beer/Chocolate/Waffles!

Given that you probably don’t need much recommendation or review of these items, I figured the easier thing to do would be to just toss a bunch of photos of my indulgences this weekend :) You can check out the recommended places in the map below if need be. Note that you’ll find amazing Belgian Beer at nearly every bar you head into (Lambics and Sours are a specialty here), great stops for chocolate all over the city (I chose Pierre Marcolini to spend my €€) and waffle trucks that seemingly follows you all over the place just toying with your emotions. To say that my belt didn’t really fit after this weekend would be quite the understatement.

Hope you enjoyed the brief read! Shoutout to my coworker Panos (not to be confused with the restaurant by the same name in Bruxelles) for his amazing recommendations of where to go and what to eat/drink/do whilst there. Not everyday you have someone who has lived in a city for many years as your travel guide!

As promised, here’s a map of my highlights of Belgium and an album if you’d like to see more photos (now on Flickr):

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Goedenavond (good evening, in Dutch), Abhishek

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

My First Time in Los Angeles

This past April, I visited California for the very first time with my girlfriend, Em. It was also her first time there - in short - it was our first time venturing OUT WEST beyond Pennsylvania.

Vacations have always been somewhat of a bum rap for me.

I only ever spent vacations with my parents, and as the years went by and the money became short, we went on fewer and fewer vacations. But even when I went on vacation, my strained relationship with them made the time drag by ever so slowly, especially through their arguments, and I often found myself saying, “God, I need a vacation. Oh, wait.”

Our trip was really a double feature - 4 days in Los Angeles and 3 days in San Francisco. We each had friends from college we wanted to visit, whom we hadn’t seen in years.

The first thing I had in mind was to visit film locations. There was the Griffith’s Observatory, featured in Rebel without a Cause and La La Land. The Bradbury Building at 304 South Broadway, where Blade Runner was filmed. Pacific Park, where Bean was filmed. The Bronson Cave Trail in Griffith’s Park, where the original 1960′s Batcave was filmed. And about 30 miles north of L.A. are some unassuming rock formations in Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park where Captain James T. Kirk battled a Gorn in the Star Trek episode Arena.

                       (Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean in 1997′s Bean)

Unfortunately, from my list I only got to see the Griffith’s Observatory and Pacific Park, but that didn’t mean my time in Los Angels wasn’t what I wanted. Oh, far more than that. My friend Carlos could practically make money as a tour-guide. He live a couple towns over but was familiar with Los Angeles, its subway system, its atmosphere. He took us to the Los Angeles City Hall, where we could see nearly everything, even the Griffith’s Observatory in the distance.

Pictures made possible by my lovable Nikon P510. The zoom on it is amazing and has been the envy of all my friends (penis envy - zoom envy). 

We even stumbled upon an enlightening talk on affordable housing development. While we wandered around Los Angeles City Hall, we noticed many nicely-dressed people gathering. Even though we felt out of place - post-graduate 20-somethings haggard from walking in the sun all day long - nobody gave us weird looks. We slipped into the crowd inside the main hall and listened to a talk some guy gave about why people in Los Angeles hate poor people.

Seriously.

For those of you unfamiliar with the homeless problem, Los Angeles has a huge one. It’s notorious for having the most homeless people, Skid Row in particular. Carlos told me that it’s nothing to be afraid of though - it’s just smelly and disgusting - and the homeless people only fight among themselves if they ever fight.

Part of the reason for Los Angeles’ dragging homeless issue is that nobody wants affordable housing to be built in their backyards and neighborhoods. They believe in this stigma that homeless people bring violence, drugs and crime. In reality, they need mental aide and a place to live. But people keep voting no. And so the homeless continue to fill the streets.

Well.

Fuck.

While my memories of L.A. are grounded, I remember feeling as if I wasn’t really there, and yet active at the same time. An engaging observer. I felt it most when Carlos, Em and I sifted through the crowd of the affordable housing presentation. Nobody bat an eye at us despite us dressed so differently. I felt like I was in an episode of Doctor Who where The Doctor takes his companions to witness some fantastic historical event and few people are paying attention to them.

After that, Carlos took us to Little Tokyo, where I gushed with nerdiness at finding trading cards from JRPGs like Tales of Symphonia and Tales of Xilia.

Carlos is an interesting individual - unconventional but very fun. Many people back in college thought he was too crazy but I could deal with crazy. He had an idea to buy 32 oz. bottles of Asahi beer and hide them in these funny, wool socks he bought. He drank with Em and as our shopping progressed, Carlos became Carlos to the third power. He binged on shopping for anime, and his favorite is Eureka Seven.

“Dude,” he said aloud, holding the special edition box set. “I love this. It’s a great romance. Oh, man, I’m a sucker for romances like this. This boy, the main character right, he’s young and full of semen. You know what I mean?”

That day was probably the best time I ever had on a vacation. My parents were a practically non-existent thought somewhere in the back of my head. I didn’t have two pairs of eyes judging me. I could be myself, experience a new place the way I wanted.

Los Angeles Nightlife (and meeting a celebrity)

Em’s friend told us a couple places where we could have a good time. Well, the place we hung out one night was appropriately called Good Times at Davey Wayne’s. We waited in line in some alleyway with this annoying jagoff of a bouncer who literally looked like Jared Leto. Maybe he was Jared Leto now that I think about it. I don’t know. He really looked like Jared Leto - he had the white Jesus thing going on. Maybe he was a nice guy, I thought, until he was completely enamored with this one girl who cut in line. She flirted with him for five seconds and he let her in.

The one thing that struck me immediately upon entering Good Times at Davey Wayne’s was not the hipster, 70′s theme, but the fact that people were actually dancing. Like really dancing. Not the grinding shit East Coasters do everywhere, nor the awkward wedding dances where old people try to be hip. It was seriously the best time I ever had clubbing.

When I prepared for Los Angeles, I bought a small green notebook. I’m very anal about my notebooks. Each notebook is color-coded based on the topic. This slim green notebook is reserved for autographs. I chose green because it’s the color of envy, which is usually how you feel about celebrities.

I imagined at first that running into even mildly famous people would be a frequent occurrence in Los Angeles. But right before we left for L.A., I read someone’s post about how it’s not at all like that. Regardless, I brought the book with me.

When we were at Good Times at Davey Wayne’s, my ears caught a particular voice that struck me. I knew I heard that voice somewhere. I honed in on it and saw this blond girl and her friends. I immediately recognized the famous YouTuber Meghan McCarthy.

I told Em about it but I wasn’t 100% sure. Yet Meghan has a distinctive voice she’s known for and I was sure about the voice. Em approached her anyway and lo and behold - she was Meghan McCarthy. 

So I got my very first celebrity autograph!

And I was also an idiot for not remembering to take a picture. To be fair, our phones were in a constant state of dying during our vacation from all the picture-taking. I almost didn’t get any pictures of the Griffith’s Observatory. Both our phones AND my camera died. I got really bummed out - but then - I remembered I was carrying my Nintendo 3DS! It takes low-res pictures but - hey - better than nothing.

The Getty

On my last day I visited my old friend Seb - whom I hadn’t seen since my college graduation of ‘12. He already has a wife and a son. The guy’s already living it. He was my college pal since Day 1 of freshman year. We were DJs together for WMNJ at Drew University. Well, he was a DJ, I was really a talk show host. We had always meant to hang out together but life drew us apart.

Seb is an artist. As such, he took us to The Getty - quite possibly the most expansive, beautiful art museum I’ve ever been to. It’s also free (well, except for parking but still). The Getty is nestled up in a mountain, so you take a tram car ride up there.

So overall, what’s L.A. like?

Miami, but on steroids.

And with the movie theme going on.

I’ve been to Miami many times. It’s hot. There are homeless people. Driving sucks. And there are palm trees everywhere.

The driving is atrocious.

People who live there also have this strange aversion to the subway system, which I actually found affordable, easy to use and fast. I guess it’s just overshadowed now by Uber. Another reason why the subway could be overshadowed is that it takes you to mostly touristy areas.

There’s also weed everywhere and nobody cares. Nobody ever cared even when it was illegal. It’s now legal but legislation is taking its jolly old time to figure out how to regulate it and sell it, etc. So you can’t find a store to walk in and get some weed. Still, there are “marijuana doctors” at nearly every corner of every street.

Hollywood Blvd. is equivalent to NYC’s Times Square. Once you start seeing chain restaurants and street performers, you know it’s touristy.

Pacific Park is further away in Santa Monica, next to Venice Beach. If you are from New Jersey or at least familiar with the Jersey Shore, think of Venice Beach as Seaside Heights but on steroids.

(Almost anything in L.A. can be summed up as ‘Like X but on steroids’ - ESPECIALLY the movie theaters. I really wanted to see a movie in the Chinese Theater but we didn’t have the time.)

Pacific Park - to be brutally honest - was not as exciting as Em and I thought it’d be. It’s a tiny little amusement park. The roller coaster is so short that they let you ride twice. While everyone else around us beamed with excitement, we were really spoiled East Coasters having experienced Six Flags with fucking death-defying drops in Nitro, and even the Jersey Shore with all its piers clogged with amusements. Pacific Park is the only amusement park on the West Coast. The reason being, well, earthquakes and erosion.

We could never seem to get a general consensus on how frequent earthquakes occurred. One Uber driver told us once a week, another said once a month, some passerby told us once every couple months. People blatantly contradicted each other - especially since one person said they hadn’t had a major earthquake in decades while another said the last major earthquake was in 2014. People contradicted each other on what public transportation was like. The food. The stores.

But they never contradicted what it was like about each other. Everybody in L.A. is truly trying to be somebody, and I could tell right away when that girl cut us and had Mr. Jared Leto Lookalike flirt with her by asking him to take her phone out of her back pocket. I overheard it all the time when people talked about their comedy acts and meetings with friends to get this film shoot down.

And while I was annoyed by that instance, it’s a far cry from the overall good vibe. Strangers are friendly. Nobody is suspicious of you for anything. There are dozens of “Love trumps hate” signs and the like. When I took a picture of Em in from of Pacific Park, two strangers wanted to get in the picture, which resulted in an amusing progression of photos.

Where did you stay?

An AirBnB. I actually feel horrible because I still haven’t left a review for our hosts, now that I reminded myself.

AirBnB is basically Uber for hotels. It’s getting really famous now. We got a really sweet cheap deal for the time we spent there.

I’ll actually shout out to them - we stayed at the Chaplin Room at Limelight Manor, hosted by Joan & Luis.

It was our first time using AirBnB. Joan’s parents apparently take care of the place. They were sweet and helpful. We were apprehensive at first because we weren’t sure what we could use and what we couldn’t use. Em assumed everything was owned by Joan and Luis. I thought otherwise. The sign clearly says “Put your name on whatever you don’t want other people to use.” There were unmarked bottles of wine. So I drank one. Logical.

We never saw the hosts, only Joan’s parents, who took care of the place like the maids of a hotel would.

The guests at the AirBnB tended to keep to themselves, just like a regular hotel. At first I was weirded out because I always heard people scurry here and there but when I left the room nobody was around.

BONUS ROUND:

On our way to California during the plane ride, Em and I saw these very strange lights as we neared Las Vegas.

Bio-dome? Science facility? Area 51? Aliens?

If anyone knows - feel free to share.

Ciao.

[themunchkinnugget]

So, we made it to Boston.  Once off the plane, we gave each other the usual smiling silent, “Well, that was awkward.” expressions and made our way to baggage claim.  Shortly, we were ready to tackle Boston’s public transportation system and take the bus into town.

My luggage made it safely and did not hit anyone in the face.  Isn’t it pretty?

Our first impressions of Bostonians were not positive, as the guy in the information booth did not seem very excited to tell the two country mice the best way to get to Government Center, but later we had nothing but pleasant encounters.  In hindsight, he was probably from somewhere else.  Kristen took the reigns and pointed her spaced-out friend in the right direction.  A free bus ride to Government Center-the station nearest our hotel.  We were on our way to The Langham Hotel-a swanky place that Kristen and I decided to splurge on since we were only staying in Boston for one night before I had to work.  Once there, we GPSed the best walking route to our destination.  Unfortunately, our iphones had no idea where we were or which way we were going.  Maybe they were used to our usual open spaces.  We made several u-turns in the cold-stopping to touch the leftover snow from the week before.  It was dirty and hard and gross, but it was snow-a rarity where we are from.  I even made a tiny-disgusting snowball.  Because SNOW.

Entering the Langham in my lularoe leggings and tennis shoes, I felt a little out of place.  To the left, a pianist on a grand piano and a tea room.  I glanced at the people drinking their tea and sampling gourmet desserts and wondered if they, too were splurging.  Probably not.  After we checked in and left our bags, I quickly changed into more appropriate “fake it til you make it” attire and we went out to explore the city.

We walked to Faneuil Hall Marketplace where we were told we could find some good eats and ran into one of the Cheers-themed restaurants.

  The placemats conveniently included a map of the Freedom Trail which we were told to follow.  It started outside of Faneuil Hall, so off we went.

The vibe of the city was quickly established as we walked by a man in a teddy bear costume playing techno music on his electric keyboard.  This was also the first of many times that Kristen and I noticed the smell of marijuana.  Later, we had noticed it SO often that I looked up Boston+Marijuana+Trees+Smell on Google thinking their was some sort of tree or plant in Boston that has a similar smell.  It turns out, similar to the conversations of Jules and Vincent on Pulp Fiction, that while it is illegal in Boston, having small amounts of it is rarely punished.  #factotheday 

The other strange thing we kept noticing is the statues.  Kristen and I ended up calling them the death statues.  It seemed that any statue that was not obviously some sort of historical figure/politician was in memoriam of some tragic event.  We literally either saw morbid death statues or historical figure statues.  There was no in between.  It made me appreciate the happy ones at The Shoppes At River Crossing a little more.  Note to self.  If I ever donate a statue in memoriam, make it a happy one.  Speaking of statues, I got temporarily confused and thought Sam Adams and Captain Morgan were the same person, so we took a picture anyway.

The weirdest figure we noticed, however, was on top of the Old State House.  This was the site of the Boston Massacre.  As I admired the building, I noticed a unicorn at the top.  “Uh….is that a….a….unicorn up there?”  “Yep.”  TGFG (Thank God For Google).  Apparently, the unicorn was a well-known symbol for the British Royal Family.  I don’t hear about it anymore, so my guess is the royals were worried we would make fun of their Lisa Frank mascot and stopped using it.  I wonder if they thought they were real at the time.

The Old State House sits on a block all by itself.  Figuring out which road on the map would take us to the next stop is a little confusing for a normal person-but for geographically challenged people-it was even more difficult.  We walked back and forth one street several times before finally making it to the next historical site.  That’s when I looked down. ��A red line.  It looked so similar to the red line on the map.  Why was this red line so familiar to me?  Red line.  Red Robin.  Batman.  Man. Ma.  Mama.  “OH CRAP!”  I exclaimed as it hit me, “Mama told me that Freedom Trail had a red line all over the city to follow.”  We didn’t even need a map.  She had told me only a week before to find a starting point and follow the line.  Ugh.  It’s not easy being stupid, y’all.

We decided to make one more major stop before we went back to our hotel for the night.  Mike’s Bakery.  We had been told by our friends and family who had visited, and even by Pinterest and Trip Advisor-that all visitors to Boston MUST go to Mike’s Bakery and buy a cannoli.  A very friendly Bostonian gave us “easy” walking instructions.  “A ten minute walk.” she said.  An hour later and we arrived to Boston’s Little Italy.  Finally.  Mikes.  The line-which started in the totally packed bakery-ended around the block.  We had come so far.  We decided to wait.  We yelled our order at the girl over the crowd.  She took Kristen’s twenty and gave her back $10 less that was owed.  Thirty minutes later, we split a Boston-creme pie while waiting for our Uber to the hotel.  It was delicious.  We saved the cannolis for the hotel.

Finally, we were at the hotel.  A man brought up our bags and I tipped him-feeling incredibly sophisticated.  The view, the bed, the bathrobes, the pink accents.  Kristen and I joked about how romantic this trip would have been with different travel partners.  We took showers and got ready for bed, trying to decide if we were allowed to keep the Langham embroidered slippers and whether or not we would be charged for drinking the bottled water.  TGFG, yall.  We could keep them and we could drink water.  *Fist pump!*

We took out our cannoli boxes, ceremoniously opened the twine-tied blue boxes, and got ready to have the true Boston experience.  A cannoli from Mike’s.  In our fancy hotel.  Wearing our fancy hotel slippers.  This was it.  The cherry on top of our incredible day.

Mine was greasy and tasted like an old empanada stuffed with sugar-free chocolate pudding.  Kristen’s was a little better, as it was filled with Oreos (thanks, Nabisco).  It was one of those things where something had been built up too much, like the movie La La Land.  I have no regrets.  We HAD to try it because everyone told us to try it, and I’m glad we did, but I wonder how many people pretend to love it because they are supposed to love it.  #hipsters

Being the party animals that we were, we drank the rest of our complimentary bottled waters and called it a night.  Our first day in New England started off a little awkwardly, but ended well, with turn-down service and famous cannolis that simply weren’t good enough for us.  Isn’t that every girl’s dream?

New England-BoysnBerry In Boston So, we made it to Boston.  Once off the plane, we gave each other the usual smiling silent, "Well, that was awkward." expressions and made our way to baggage claim.