#simple home for a depressed noah

[soapoet]

describing your next love...

...because i'm just as nosy as you are.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Lucky people by Waterparks

they have a very sunny energy. the kind that peaks out behind the clouds after a fall of rain. rejuvenating, always welcome. they try their best to stay optimistic, for loved ones and strangers alike. it feels a little tragic because there is a darkness inside them that they choose to ignore. their sunny disposition seems less like a mask and more like armour. it's what has gotten them this far. they may have had a rough childhood, and their heart may have been wounded particularly by one of their parents. they struggle with mental health and might be neurodivergent. they're the kind of person to end a depressing sentence with 'lmao', or turn a therapy session into a stand-up comedy show. they cope with their struggles through humour, because if they take themselves and their problems too seriously and lean in too close to where it hurts, the pain becomes overwhelming. their heart is much like a dam, holding back tons of tears of almost biblical proportions. even still, if they opened the floodgates they'd find a way to muster a 'noah, get the arc' joke to force some sunlight through the clouds.

despite their dance around their own feelings, they're encouraging of others expressing theirs, and stand firmly by their side and always have a shoulder to offer if needed. they love to make people laugh, and aren't afraid of making a fool out of themselves if it puts a smile on someone's face. they'll gladly cast themselves as a jester if it makes their loved ones feel like royalty. they're very excitable and fun to be around. at their best they are a firecracker, bursting with an energy so infectious and bright. they're creative and very passionate about their hobbies, often to the point of obsession. it seems like all they do they do with such love. like a show is never just a show, but a whole world of its own to explore and come to know as home. they love the escapism of foreign lands, fictional and real, and something about them makes a simple trip to the grocery store an adventure with many memories to one day share.

you either already know them, or will meet them very soon. especially if you're in a transitional period, moving away, changing jobs or applying to schools, then this is a person you'll meet in this next chapter of your life. this has friends to lovers written all over it. you might be in the same friend group, or meet them through a mutual friend. their hair stands out for some reason. it could either be in the literal sense because it's messy, perpetual bedhead, or they have a unique colour or cut. perhaps they change their hair frequently and have a bit of chameleon vibes in which they become unrecognisable with every change that they make to their appearance. they're average in height but could look taller than they actually are. their posture isn't the greatest, especially if they're an artist of some kind. they have golden retriever energy and may be a dog person in general. for some, they have freckles or dimples, or prominent birth marks. there's a lot of mutual pining involved before anything happens. they're a little bit oblivious, too. someone else might have to step in to spell things out for either of you.

02.

Shufflemancy: Into you by Ariana Grande

being playful and flirtatious can get you in quite a bit of trouble, and they know this from experience. they're attractive, and seem very aware of it, though there is less legitimate arrogance and more playful cockiness involved. they like to make an effort to look good, and have a strong appreciation for a partner who does the same. generosity may be a way they show this appreciation because they understand the time and maintenance this effort can take, and are of the mindset that they ought to reward what they like rather than simply expect it or take it for granted. they're likely involved in business such as investments or trade, or could be working on building a business of their own. they're physically fit, and might frequent the gym or be into sports. they have a lot of stamina because of this, so do with that information what you will.

they could have a bit of a reputation due to an unscrupulous past, and it is one they have done much work to rewrite. they want to settle down, but haven't found someone they could commit to. a big issue for them is the way fun gets sucked out of things too quickly in the relationships they've been in. they're very spontaneous and have a big capacity for romance, but they often find themselves lacking space and time to do anything special. like how you would decide to clean the house to surprise your mother, only to have her call and ask you to do just that, ruining the gesture. similarly, in their relationships they may find themselves cornered, and in the suffocation of their freedom and passion their capacity and desire to impress and to woo begins to fade like a smothered flame, which in turn causes strife. and the nagging that so often followed turns them into a complacent shell of themselves, wherein it's better to nod along than risk discord. they seek an equal. somebody powerful in their own right, who can support them and be supported in return. they want love to be an adventurous undertaking of a power couple ready to seize the day.

this feels like a right person wrong time -scenario. when you meet they're probably in a relationship with someone else, or you are. you could meet at some sort of social gathering or organised event like a fundraiser or a concert. there's a distinct sense of delay here, though the interest is mutual and very persistent right from the beginning. they could hold themselves back from pursuing anything with you at first because they want a clean slate. it may at first to you seem like frustrating indecision and make you question their intentions, even integrity, but they may just be untangling their life and closing chapters. they yearn for the long-term and would like the house and the kids and whole nine yards, but need to make sure their life is upright, straightened, and ready for it. there is a playful glint in their eyes, which may be hazel or brown. there is a distinct warmth to them and a loving gaze feels especially adoring from them. they would make a very good and attentive parent and spouse for the right person. there could be a noticeable size difference between you. if you're softer and curvier, they're more angular and dense, and if you're shorter, they're taller, etc.

03.

Shufflemancy: Great shipwreck of life by IAMX

oh, how charming! they're gregarious, and attract quite a few admirers. though it seems they take few, if any, seriously at all. their popularity may be a byproduct of an important or visible position that they hold. they could be a prominent figure within their community or be very successful in their field of work or hobbies. their schedule is often packed with meetings, events and social obligations. they could travel a lot too, both for pleasure and for work. for their work they may spend extended periods of time away from home. in spite of their sociable persona, they keep their private life very private, under lock and key, and may even be secretive about it to an extent. they may be unapproachable or simply be unattainable by people outside of their established circles. there is an element of social games or hierarchical factors present in their life, and whilst they're good at networking, climbing ranks, or beating records, they may actually find many around them to be uninteresting or outright obnoxious. where they spend their professional hours draws a lot of similar types of people together, and their tastes differ quite a bit. being married to their work in a way leaves few options for them in love since they look for something outside of their norm, which they have little time to explore.

there could be a fear of being taken advantage of. like they can't seem to trust people easily, and expect everyone to have ulterior motives. to use them or get something from them. these trust issues run deep, and either they have been burnt before or have watched somebody close to them fall from grace and are afraid they'll share that same fate. there could also be legal reasons for their caution, as they may have signed contracts or taken an oath that dictates what they can and cannot share, particularly if they work for the government or a big corporation.

this connection might begin online or otherwise have distance involved even if you meet in person first. lots of messages or calls. they revel in good banter and enjoy entertaining more out-there ideas. they feel starved off of deeper conversations because their life seems to revolve around a lot of simple niceties and professional talk with tons of things redacted, edited, and filtered to fit into a very narrow box deemed correct and good and appropriate. it's very tiring and wears them out, even though they won't show it. they really appreciate things that differ from the norm or breaks the status quo in some way. what they consider their type is also very different from what would be expected of them, and their peers would be shocked to hear what they find ideal both in terms of a partner and a life that they would like to lead. their voice seems important too. they have a very attractive voice, could be a great speaker or an artist. their hair is either longer or shorter than average (shorter for women, longer for men), and their physique leans slimmer and angular, not a lot of curvature just lots of straight lines and sharpness.

04.

Shufflemancy: Willow by Taylor Swift

they probably don't get out much. most if their life occurs behind closed doors. they could work or study remotely, and their schedule might be different from the usual nine to five. their friends and family may live at a distance, too, which leaves them few reasons to leave the house. they need mental stimulation and might be a little high-strung, their nerves like violin strings wound too tight. independence is of great importance to them and their boundaries are clear, almost like austere walls protecting a castle. they appear aloof and don't say much, especially around strangers. though their shyness is often overruled by their intrigue. they like to tinker with things and minds alike, and may often step in to play devil's advocate just to stir the pot. especially in their boredom they may seek out discourse as a form of entertainment. they have strong opinions, but are not stubborn or unable to bend. in fact, something they abhor is weak convictions and mindless agreement. they respect admittance of ignorance far more than the parroting of popular opinions if there is a lack of substance behind them. they really do not seem to mind different views at all, and may surround themselves with people of all walks of life and various temperaments and opinions. this is in part driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. it's as though they've made their quest in life to seek information and learn everything they can in one short lifetime. they are open-minded and curious, and have great respect for anyone who has something to teach them. and they're a great teacher themself! even if they do not literally teach as a part of their work, they might have been told by many that they should consider it because they really have a way of adapting information, hand-tailoring it to their audience, so that even complex things get delivered and comprehended.

where they may be a great source of knowledge and advice to those around them, they aren't the greatest in terms of emotional support. they are a problem solver, and they can't fix tears. they try, but it feels clumsy and awkward. though that can be a little charming, too. they care a lot, more than people might expect. they're just terrible at showing it through big and extravagant gestures and displays of affection. they're more likely to give praise or take on tasks to unburden you. they like routine and solitude and seek someone who rivals the comfort of their peace and quiet. they could die happy if they could simply share a space comfortably with someone without constant noise, buzz, and attention. they could be strangely private about things that don't necessarily call for privacy. like, they might easily drop childhood lore in a casual conversation, but find inquiries about what they did yesterday suspicious even if they didn't do anything special.

because this is a bit of a 'rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair' -type of situation where they're very comfortable in their ivory tower that gets no visitors, it might take a while before you meet them. they're far more social online and you could meet through common interests like online games, subreddits, discord, or through mutual friends. if you already know them, there may be a sense of unrequited love for a while. they rarely act on their infatuations and just wait it out, enjoying the feelings for what they are but do little, if anything, about them. alternatively they participate in very indirect chasing that appears more like making the other person chase them. they have attractive hands, could be ambidextrous or they fidget a lot with their hands. they may be a writer, play an instrument or play a lot of video games. they always appear deep in thought or even a little irritable, even if they're actually not. not so much RBF as simply spacing out. their eyes seem hazy. whichever colour they are it looks desaturated and blurry, like there's mist covering them. blues lean greyish, greens look muddy, browns look more true and lack the amber warmth. they might wear glasses or contacts. regardless of race they're a little paler and may have some health concerns or struggles.

05.

Shufflemancy: I want you to want me by Chase Holfelder

there is something broken here. their home, their heart, or perhaps their mind. it'll be difficult to break through this shell because the exterior is harsh and uninviting. whatever it is that haunts them, it really shows in their relationships. they walk a path seemingly unlit and full of horrors, leaving behind them a trail of broken hearts. pieces of both their own and those of past lovers scattered along the way. to some their love is suffocating, draining and overbearing. when they get attached they latch on with a powerful grip that seems unyielding. they're a rock that could weather the strongest of storms and they're used to being a pillar of strength. but it seems as though their past is full of people who would have needed the room to bend with the winds and were left feeling too restricted. they may have a jealous streak that's rooted in fear of betrayal, likely from past hurts. they could struggle with a mental illness or have history of abusing drugs or alcohol to numb what haunts them.

they really want a partner in crime. someone who is similar to them and understands their turmoil. they have a big capacity to understand and deal with heavy burdens and mental issues in a partner too and aren't easily fazed by emotional outbursts or any type of spiraling mentally or emotionally. they also remind me of the quote 'a hero will sacrifice the person they love to save the world, a villain will sacrifice the world to save the person they love'. they seem a bit like an outcast or a misfit, and those closest to them may also be underdogs and form a very tight-knit group. they're a little bit of a hopeless romantic and have a soft side. if they're musically inclined they might write you a song, or otherwise use writing as a way to express their feelings in a deeper way. their cold and rough exterior is there to ward off the most frail and flaky. they don't want to ruin dainty petals or have their own ripped out by players.

funnily enough they actually look like one themselves. they have that quintessential heartbreaker look to them. the one all the movies deem nothing but trouble. a villain in the story of many but their own and those closest to them. there is a feminine energy close to them that they're very protective of, like a sister or mother. for some they might be providing and caring for a sick relative. they have an unusual job or field of study, and peculiar working hours. they might work a graveyard shift, gigs, or do work that's seasonal or done on the go. music plays a big role in their life and you could meet them at a concert or through another kind of relation to a band or artist you both enjoy. they take a keen interest in the strange, and the mysteries of life. they might study the occult, enjoy conspiracy theories, true crime, etc. they're distinctly cool toned, blondes are dirty and ashy, browns are void of red pigment and lean darker, almost black. blue eyes are very cold and piercing, and brown eyes are very dark and may appear black. they have piercings, tattoos or scars and may bruise easily, or be into those things in others.

06.

Shufflemancy: Trust by Boy Epic

somebody send this person on a mandatory holiday. i really should not have left this one for last, because the energy is really heavy. their life seems unbalanced, like it is all work and no play. there is a jittery energy here as though they are running on fumes and caffeine to fuel a big machine with hundreds of intricately moving parts. they might work in real estate, management, law, IT, or have a lot of people they're in charge of who depend on them. they have impeccable memory and somehow manage to stay on top of things with ease. they like being personally involved and may be hands-on with many of their projects. task management comes naturally to them. it's as if they're playing a game of chess with life and stay aware of every possible variable and reach outcomes long before they show in the present. this spills into all areas of their life and allows them to map out goals with great precision, leaving very little room for uncertainty. they're very stable and competent. but they're also miserable. even though they enjoy their work for its challenges and the heights it allows them to reach, it may seem to them as though they are wearing themselves out without real purpose beyond the accolades. like they're building an empire in vain because there is nobody to share their glory. they want more from life, namely a home. their home is as big as it is hollow and they don't like it there. it lacks a lot of love and light and they wish to bring some of that into it through children and a spouse.

they may come from a big family themselves, even one of good fortune. their discipline and work ethic is likely something instilled in them by a father figure, and there could be a bit of an eldest child complex at play, wherein they have always felt the need to set an example for their younger siblings, but also feel embittered by what they cannot get away with that others so easily can. they could use with a bit of whimsical and carefree energy in their life. they're aware of it too, as they find a bit of chaos oddly attractive in a partner. in previous relationships they may have been with people far too similar to them, allowing them no place of restoration and solace, but instead a constant movement of the goal post. they seek someone comfortable and more easy-going who can help them relax and live a little. they are generous and would spoil a worthy partner rotten, but are also afraid of gold diggers and don't want to be taken advantage of, as they may have run the risk of in the past.

out of all groups, this one leans the oldest. depending on your age they could easily be 5-10 years your senior, and if you're very young it will likely take some time before you meet them. you might meet through work, through coworkers, at a work related event, or if it is a leisurely occasion it's one with a mixture of age groups like a family gathering of sorts. for a few, you could run into them a few times at random whilst running errands and going about your daily routines. either way interest is established quickly, even though they may seem stand-offish or even stiff at first. in actuality they busy themselves with observing, and throughout your interactions, and your interactions with other people in their presence, they size you up and try to figure you out. they could be very taken with you, but they try their best to not show it. they're cordial, but keep their cards hidden. once they decide to pursue you everything happens very quickly. again, because of their game of chess having played out various scenarios while they figured out their feelings and rearranged their life to fit you into it. they're eager to please, and one-on-one you may be surprised by their sensitive and softer side. they're doting and have a lot of adoration once they fall, and out in public where they seem level-headed and collected you can easily distract them and have them stumbling a bit. they're very protective and are bigger or stronger than you. their features lean darker and they may have an earthy look to them, like green or hazel eyes and auburn hair. this one has the strongest indications of marriage.

[merrybloomwrites]

Call Your Mom

Summary: When life becomes too much you have a plan for a way out. What you don't realize is that a simple text to your childhood friend Noah won't only save your life, but turn it around for the better.

Word Count: 1.6K

CW: suicide attempt, depression

AN: This fic is very heavy. Please protect your mental health. If the topic of suicide and suicide attempts are upsetting or triggering for you, please do not read this story. Your health comes first!

I suddenly became obsessed with the song Call Your Mom and could not rest until I'd written this.

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You start the day like you’ve started every day for the past few years. A shower, a cup of coffee, some cereal and a long, slow commute to work. 

It continues in the same monotonous way it always does. But today you actually have something to look forward to.

A bottle of pills, waiting for you once you get home. A simple fix, something to stop this boring life, full of hurt and loss and bad news and bad days. 

Every year it gets worse and worse. You have a theory that the world would actually explode if something good happened to you. Because nothing good ever does. It’s always inconveniences, problems for you to solve, or even worse, problems you can’t solve. Hopeless causes. 

And you’re tired. Just so damn tired of fighting every single day, just to make it through the day. It’s exhausting.

But finally, it’s all about to be over. 

Driving home takes even longer than usual, and you realize why when you reach your neighborhood.

It’s Halloween, and kids are out trick or treating with their parents and their siblings and their friends. Having fun. Laughing. Enjoying life.

You remember what that was like. You remember how much you used to love Halloween. You and your best friend Noah always hung out that day, running around and collecting candy in your fun costumes. You’d go back to his house after to trade candy, you giving him your Whoppers in exchange for all of his Milk Duds. 

When you finally make it home you have some dinner, then clean it and put away the dishes. Feeling slightly nostalgic you pull out an old photo album, flipping through it and focusing on the Halloween photos.

It’s so amazing how happy and carefree you were. And so sad that you haven’t felt that way in years. 

It hurts to look at Noah, thinking back to all the good times you had as kids. You’re proud of him and happy that he’s been successful and is out there living his dream. You’d gone to one of his shows, and it was the best night you’d had in years. But then you woke up again the next morning, back in your lonely apartment, and that post-concert depression left you even more glum than normal. 

You look between the photo album and the stacks of notes you have written for your family members. There isn’t one there for Noah, but you want to say one last thing to him before you go. So you send him a text before opening the bottle and downing the pills inside.

**********

Noah’s out with some friends when his phone buzzes with an incoming text. He’s surprised to see your name pop up. He hadn’t heard from you since you’d come to one of his shows, and that was nearly six months ago. 

He smiles, happy to see you message him, but then he reads the text. He’s immediately on edge, worried by what you’re saying. Because it sounds like a goodbye. 

He knows that you’ve had a lot happen to you in the past few years, a lot of setbacks and things to cause you grief. But you always seemed so upbeat. He never had a reason to worry, until this moment. 

Stepping out of the bar he takes a deep breath of crisp, fall air. He reads the message again. And again. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He feels like he's overreacting. But he cannot get over the thought that something bad might happen, could be happening at this very moment. He tries calling you, calls three times, but gets no answer.

Wracking his brain, he tries to think of anyone in his phone that still lives by you, but he can’t come up with anyone. Finally, he scrolls through and sees your mom’s contact. It’s been years since he’s called her, and he just hopes that she hasn’t changed her number. 

There’s once again no answer. He calls again and she doesn’t pick up. He leaves a voicemail, telling her he thinks something is wrong and she needs to call him back.

After leaving the message he goes back inside to tell his friends he’s leaving. He runs to the garage where his car is, thankful that he hadn’t even finished his first beer and can get on the road immediately. 

Noah drives as fast as he safely can, and by the time he’s out of the city and on the highway he gets a call back from your mom. She received his message and went to check on you, finding you unconscious in your apartment. She updates that she’d called 911 and is now at the hospital waiting to hear an update on your condition. 

That’s all he knows as he continues to speed through the dark, thankfully empty streets, all the way back to Vermont. 

His mind swirls between happy thoughts, like memories the two of you share, and sad thoughts, like the fact that you could be gone, never to make memories again.

Noah keeps his emotions in check and concentrates as he maneuvers the back roads into  your shared hometown. 

Finally, after what feels like days, he arrives at the hospital. As soon as he enters the reception area he sees your family. Your mother sits, worry clear on her face. Your father paces the room, anxiously waiting for any news. 

But it’s your sister who notices Noah first, running over to hug him. 

“Thank you so much for calling mom,” she says through tears. 

“How-” he tries to ask but a wave of emotion chokes off his sentence. 

Understanding what he was trying to ask, she answers, “They think she’ll be okay. She took pills but they said she got here in time. They pumped her stomach and are monitoring her now.”

“Thank god,” Noah says. 

Your dad comes over, placing a firm hand on Noah’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything but Noah understands the gratitude he’s relaying through the gesture. 

Finally he goes and sits next to your mom. She takes his hand in hers, again a silent show of appreciation. 

It isn't too long after that when the doctor comes out and tells everyone that you’re awake. 

You close your eyes and try to hide your face when your family files in, ashamed by what you’d done. But they don’t hesitate, all of them crowding you to hold you. 

You apologize numerous times, your family taking turns to tell you it’s okay, everything is okay, they’re just glad you’re alright. 

When they finally back away and give you room to breathe, you see one more person standing shyly against the wall. You feel even worse now, making Noah drop everything and drive all the way back here. 

“Mom, can I have a minute with Noah please?” She nods and ushers your family out of the room, saying they’ll be back in a few minutes. 

After they leave Noah walks closer, standing right by your bed. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “So sorry you had to come here and handle this. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you.”

“Hey, no. Stop. You did not inconvenience me. I am just so relieved to see you alive and breathing.”

“I mess everything up. Everything is so messed up and it’s all my fault. I wanted to make it all stop.”

He sits down on the bed and wraps his arms around you. 

“Do you remember that night senior year when you showed up at my house with a stack of DVDs and like, every snack you could find?” He asks. 

“Yeah. You’d seemed really down that day and I wanted to cheer you up,” you reply. 

“I was down. I’d been struggling with my mental health, and I also wanted to make everything stop. I had gotten pills, just like you. I was going to take them that night. But then you showed up, forced yourself into my room and put on a movie marathon. Y/N, everything I have, all my success and happiness, that’s all because of you. That wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t saved me that night.”

He pauses to wipe the tears streaming down your face and says, “I know what you’re feeling. I’ve been exactly where you are. And I know you won’t believe this now, and it seems like such a cliche, but I promise it gets better. Not all at once, and not all the time, but it will stop feeling so overwhelmingly awful. You’ll get your light back and little by little it will get better.”

Somehow, you believe him. Knowing he’s experienced this before and came out the other side proves it’s possible. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you say. 

“Thank you for saving me first,” he replies. 

You sit there together and think about what he’d said. If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it is that you matter. There are people who would be devastated if you were gone.  

Not only that, you owe it to yourself to stick around and experience life. 

It takes work, always will. But after months of therapy and accountability plans and late night calls to family when things feel too much, you’re able to tell Noah you have dreams again. 

A couple months after that you report to him that you have a new job, one that brings you joy and fulfillment. 

A few weeks after that you adopt a pet, someone to share life with and who depends on you. Needs you to survive so they can survive. 

When you feel healthy you get into a relationship. It doesn’t work out, but it’s not the end of the world. 

And when Halloween comes around back around, you’re spending it with your best friend once more. 

It’s been a year of hard work to get better, but as you watch movies and eat snacks hanging on the couch with Noah, you’re so happy that you were here for it. Everything could have ended a year ago. But you’re so incredibly happy it didn’t.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I probably won't write more for Noah unless inspiration strikes like it did for this one, so requests are not open for him

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Noah x female reader

Reader has been dealing with depression issues and Noah decides to surprise her by taking her to their local humane society to adopt a kitten.

Thank you so much for your request! I enjoyed writing this one! I hope you like it! Any feedback you have is appreciated!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN GUYS! SEND THEM IN!

The hum of the oscillating fan situated in the corner of the bedroom served as the only background noise playing throughout y/n’s otherwise silent apartment. On any other day she would have been out of bed and at the bottom of her second cup of coffee by now, but that familiar sense of dread had decided that this week was the perfect time to creep back into her psyche and wreak havoc on life itself.

So here she was still in bed at noon on a Saturday, staring at the ceiling, while her brain recalled and relayed all of her insecurities and imposter syndrome decided to manifest itself into the otherwise forgotten corners of her spirit where she tried to hide her fears from the world. 

The sound of the fan and the chatter of her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of her ringtone emitting from the device on her nightstand. She reached over to silence the device but stopped short when she saw a familiar photo and name flash across the screen. 

NOAH SEB 

She slid her thumb across the screen and put the phone to her ear, answering with a simple, Hello.

“Hey! I’m going to be at your apartment in one hour. So you need to get up and get ready!” said Noah, one her best friend of almost 3 years now.

Noah didn’t give her any chance to protest or come up with an excuse. He also refused to mention where they were going before ending the phone call despite Y/N’s inquiries. 

Shit. 

Y/N met Noah when she ran merch for one of the support bands that opened for Bad Omens on tour back in 2021. Since then she has toured with Bad Omens on and off assisting with tour managing, merch, and other miscellaneous duties while also touring with other bands and artists. 

Since then Noah and her usually hung out at least once a week when both of them were home from tour. Y/N knew that Noah wasn’t naive to the fact that her brain was working against her this week. He cared for her, knew her history, and could tell when she was slipping back into depression. He knew when to give her space and when to intervene and help her climb back out of the pit. 

An hour later, she had just finished drying her hair after a much needed shower, when she heard the sound of a key entering a lock, the door open, and the keyholder loudly making their presence known. She had originally given Noah a spare key for emergencies, but with how frequently he used it that original arrangement was basically null and void.

“HONEY! I’M HOME!” Noah shouted, his voice carrying up the hallway. 

She didn’t need to shout back in response with her location. The apartment wasn’t big enough to warrant it. She stood in front of the large dressing mirror leaning against the wall in her bedroom and pulling her hair back in the only style she had energy for. She watched in the reflection of the mirror as Noah leaned against the door to her bedroom with his arms crossed into front of his chest. He smiled at her as she finished messing with her hair. She showed him a tight lipped smile in response. 

He pushed off the door and crossed the room before pulling her into a tight hug. A hug she didn’t know she was in dire need of until this moment. She looped her arms around his waist as he wrapped his around her shoulders and back, his right hand cradling the back of her head. She inhaled the scent of his cologne. The smell was familiar and comforting. Noah refused to let go until she was ready. 

After a few minutes she pulled back and responded with a soft, Thank You. 

“Always. You know that.” He replied, planting a kiss on her temple before letting go completely. 

Noah walked out into the living room while Y/N gathered her keys and wallet, throwing them into her crossbody bag and slipping it over her head. 

“So where are we going?” she asked. 

“You’ll see, it's a surprise!” he replied before ushering her out the door and locking it behind him. 

Twenty minutes later they entered a parking lot in front of a taupe colored concrete municipal building. The letters on the front facade read:

Los Angeles County Humane Society 

Noah put the car in park and turned to Y/N with a giant smile on his face. 

“We’re going to adopt a cat!” He exclaimed. 

“Noah, what are we going to do with a cat?” She replied with a laugh, “We travel for work!”

“We’ll hire the same person the rest of the guys have to take care of their pets while we’re on tour together.” He replied, “There is no arguing about the work stuff, I’ve already figured all of those logistics out!” 

“You’re serious. We’re getting a cat?” She replied, a smile growing on her own face. 

“Yep! We’re going to be cat parents!” he replied, getting out of the car and heading toward the entrance. 

Inside they were met with a volunteer at the front desk named April who led them to the wing where all of the stray cats were housed. Walking down the long corridor they were greeted by cats of varying breeds, colors, and ages. As they walked April pointed out a few of her favorite residents and gave brief histories on them and their time spent with the shelter. 

At the very end of the hallway in the very last holding pen lived the tiniest inhabitants of the feline wing. A group of 5 kittens tumbled around and fiddled with various toys the caretakers kept spread about the area. Small bins were nestled in the corners for those old enough to consume solid food and water. An orange kitten with blue eyes chased around its tabby colored playmate. Two similar looking cinnamon colored kittens chased each other around a scratching post and tower situated in the corner opposite of the food and water. 

But I was the smallest of the bunch that caught Y/N’s eye. A black cat with little white socks on its two front paws lay stretched out soaking in the warmth of the heat lamp that hung above the bedding area. She pointed him out to Noah who commented on how chill the tiny creature looked. 

“I hate to bother him, but can we see that little guy?” He asked, turning to April. 

“You sure can!” She replied before retrieving the lounging kitten from the pen. The tiny being chirping at the caretaker, upset over his lounge time being disturbed. April led them over to a secure playing area meant for the animals to interact with those who come to visit. 

Noah and Y/N sat criss cross in the play pen and watched as she sat him down in front of the pair. The young cat let out a Meh sound before wandering over to Y/N and sniffing the skin of her knees that peeked through the rips in her jeans. Content with the smell of the human, he rubbed his head and body against her leg and before walking over to Noah and doing the same. When he was content with how he felt around them he wandered back over to Y/N and climbed up onto her lap. She scooped up his little body before he got a chance to try and climb up the fabric of her hoodie instead nestling the creature to her chest. He let out a chirp before settling into a steady purr. 

“Looks like he likes you guys!” Said April as she supervised from outside of the pen. 

“I think we like him!” Y/N replied, turning to Noah who looked back at her with a huge grin on his face, “What do you think?”

“I think he’s perfect!” He replied. 

Thirty minutes later, paperwork was completed, adoption fees were paid, and vet records were checked over. Noah and Y/N walked out the door with a little cat carrier holding their new furry child and a new collar tag that read ‘Niko’ in blocked sans serif letters. 

Y/N looked over at Noah once they got back in the car, a big smile consumed the lower half of her face. 

“Did we really just become Cat Parents?” she asked with a laugh. 

“Yep! But there’s no one else I’d rather become a cat dad with!” Noah replied before reversing the car out of its spot and leaving the parking lot. “Ain’t that right Niko?”

Niko responded with a sharp meow from his carrier securely buckled in place in the backseat

“See, even he agrees!” Noah exclaimed with a laugh. “It’s fate! Now let’s go get our son some cool stuff at the pet store”

[noablke]

Task 003: Noah Blake’s home

[wishfullyeternal]

Reid x Reader- Hurt Pt 6

Reid x Reader- Hurt Pt 6

Warnings- Mentions of violence, gunshots, swearing, PTSD, depression etc. Please exercise caution.

Words- 1544

A/N- finally got around to continuing this part! hopefully y'all like it! as always requests are open and love you lovelies!

In your mind it was all so clear, each memory playing in your head effortlessly, but when it came to words, it was useless. Useless to even try and explain what had happened, it was so simple yet so complicated, and to even speak it aloud would give Noah some kind of power beyond the grave.

"I don't know," You said, rocking back and forth slightly, feeling sweat begin to bead at your forehead, even the fleeting thought of his appearance was enough to make you visibly shake, your fists clenched and breathing erratic.

"You seem nervous, is everything okay?" You nodded and clenched your teeth, struggling to answer the therapists' question.

"It was cold, and I had just gotten off work," You trailed off, struggling to remember the events even though they were seared into your mind.

"Noah was home, in my apartment, looking for something to accuse me of cheating on him, and he found a picture of Spencer, and screamed in my face-"

"Are you in a romantic relationship with Dr.Spencer Reid?" You shook your head violently,

"Oh no, it's not like that, we're just on cases a lot together, so we've become pretty close friends," You laughed nervously, and the therapist pondered on your response, but nodded and wrote down something on her notebook. You made a mental note to try and see what it was.

"Once he was done yelling at me, he grabbed something to try and tie me, to keep me still so he could-" You took in a breath, trying to find a way to move away from the subject, but there really wasn't.

"Rape me." The therapist nodded and scribbled something down,

"I didn't have my gun, so I kicked him and we ended up fighting, and that's how I got the bruise on my face," You gently touched it and winced, but luckily it had begun to heal. The therapist then wrote something else down and spoke.

"After that though, you went to Dr.Reid's house and let the BAU form an investigation trying to find him, correct?" You nodded,

"I stayed with Penelope to help, they wouldn't let me in the field at the time," You nodded to yourself, trying to give yourself some type of confidence to get through the last of the events.

"Noah was already in the building though, and when I was getting coffee from the break room, he found me, and we both pulled our guns in a stalemate," She nodded, wanting you to go on,

"But he got into my head and made me think that it was wrong for me to defend myself, so I ended up putting my gun down and letting him take me from the break room," You shook your head, knowing it was a mistake you made that resulted in his death and maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't surrendered that quickly he would still be here today.

"Why did you let him take you out of the break room," You closed

your eyes and spoke quietly,

"Because maybe if I would have let him do anything he wanted to me, it would all fucking be over," The politeness was gone from your voice, and you desperately wanted to get this fucking interview over with so you could get back onto the field and forget about this.

"What did he say to you?"

"He told me everything he knew about me, my favorite color, favorite music, why I liked it, everything..." You faltered, trying to find the words that would make her understand exactly what you were going through, but there weren't any words that could. Of course your significant other should know these things, but the way he said them with so much venom in his voice completely broke you.

"Reid was walking in at the same time, and pulled his gun, talked to Noah, realized he was going to kill me no matter what, made a judgment call and when he moved, Reid shot him." You quickly finished and began to get up,

"Sit down please, I'm not done yet, I still have to give you my diagnosis." You furrowed your brows, there was nothing wrong with you, why would you need a diagnosis?

"Severe PTSD, and moderate depression, both are caused by the traumatic event, and can be lessened with therapy and meds, I want you to start seeing a therapist once a week and start you on Sertraline, first ten milligrams and then gradually increase from there, if everything goes well, you'll be allowed into the field in about 2 months-"

"2 months?!" You said in disbelief,

"I have to go to therapy and take whatever the fuck that is for two months?" She nodded,

"At your first session the therapist you choose will give you the prescription, so please take it easy and get some rest. I'll check in on you in two months. Know that I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, usually, I would keep someone out of the field for at least three months."

"Can I at least help in Quantico?" She thought for a second but then nodded. You thanked the lord above that you wouldn't be so cooped up at home, and went back to your desk, not before sneaking a look at the clipboard she was writing on.

Obvious PTSD, amnesia? Depression, co-dependent, prone to relationships that give not receive. Stable enough to keep gun, etc, keep an eye out for new relationships/drastic changes in mood or behavior.

You took offense to the co-dependent phrase but quickly booked it to your desk, eager to get the hell out of there. Hotch stood at your desk, awaiting your arrival.

"What did she say?" You nodded to yourself and let out a breath, composing yourself.

"Out of the field for two months, gotta go see a therapist and take some meds for PTSD, I can still help Penelope though," Hotch sighed,

"I'll see if I can lessen it for you, but from now on help Penelope and go to therapy. I know you don't want to but it's for your own good." You nodded and sat at your desk, shuffling through the immense amount of paperwork you had to do from both the FBI itself and the case before.

"What did they say, I can give a second opinion if you want," Reid looked over your shoulder and to the paperwork you were completing.

"You know you can leave that for later," He continued, you nodded.

"Better now than later. I'm out of the field for two months though, and I gotta go get therapy and meds, I can still help Penelope." Reid smiled,

"You know that's not what I meant, what were you diagnosed with," You sighed,

"PTSD and mild depression, she called me co-dependent..." Reid laughed,

"First two maybe, but only mild, and for the co-dependent part, I'm sure you know the answer." You laughed quietly, it was something you were going to have to work on, but not yet.

"You don't seem super nervous talking about it, why?" He tried to pry and get more information, but in reality, the only thing you could think of was how detached you were from the event, seeing it from the outside rather than the inside.

"I guess I'm just detached, that's all." Reid shook his head,

"That won't do you any good, therapy will help though. Do you want me to drive you home, it'll be better to be in a place you recognize." You nodded, trying to remember how you had left the place, probably messy.

"C'mon then, better get there now so we can clean." You smiled, we. Such a simple gesture, but made you feel loved.

The car ride was less than interesting, and you found yourself aimlessly scrolling through your phone, only looking up when Reid had parked.

"Nervous?" He asked, you nodded and sucked in a breath, letting it out and preparing yourself for what was to come.

You got a flash of memories from that night, and the way you ran to your car, hands still barely tied. The hallway you almost tripped down, and the doors you had to open. Reid put his hand around you, noticing your breathing change.

"It'll be okay, it's just a room, and Noah is gone. He won't hurt you again." You nodded and tried to comfort yourself to no avail. Your heart began to beat faster and faster, like thunder in your head, deafening, you could almost feel the blood coursing through your veins. You put in the key to your apartment and gently opened the door, Reid just behind you.

It was a mess. Just like how it was left. You couldn't help but place a hand on your gun, looking for any type of movement.

"There's no one here, promise," Reid said, trying to calm you down. You let your hand wander to your side, and sat down on the loveseat, where everything went down.

"Do you need anything?" Instead of declining like you usually would, you asked for a glass of water, not wanting to get up and get it yourself. Reid went into the kitchen and ran the water, but before he got to you you heard a deafening.

Crack!

Like the thunder you had heard when Reid pulled the trigger on Noah, in fact, it was identical.

Oh fuck...

Not today, not today, not now...

[mad-prophet-of-the-airwaves]

My top 10 favorite films of the decade

1. Frances Ha (2012, Noah Baumbach, USA)

I can’t imagine that this film would appear on many decade end lists, much less at the #1 spot, but this film spoke to me on a deep, personal level that few films have. I’ve never seen a film perfectly represent both the ups and down of being in your 20s. Despite dealing with some complex issues, Frances Ha is lovably lighthearted, it’s sweetly optimistic tone is incredibly infectious and every time I watch it, I’m left with a huge smile on my face. It may not be the most sophisticated film ever made, but any film that eases my mind about being an aimless twentysomething deserves to be called the best of the decade.

2. Lady Bird (2017, Greta Gerwig, USA)

Absolutely hilarious from beginning to end, but also unflinchingly honest with some pitch-perfect characters, Greta Gerwig’s solo directorial debut is an incredibly intelligent story of growing up. What really impressed me about this film is that, while it does acknowledge the difficulty of being a teenager, sometimes it can be just as hard on your parents, a theme often ignored in coming-of-age films. This really is a special film and I hope it dazzles audiences for many more years to come.

3. Joker (2019, Todd Phillips, USA)

Joker was a film that took me a while to really appreciate. After my first viewing, I enjoyed it greatly, but thought it was a little rough around the edges, but as I thought about it more, I realized how brilliant it really was and after three viewings, I feel confident ranking it among the best of the decade. It is undoubtedly the boldest reinvention of the comic book movie I’ve ever seen and one of the most transgressive Hollywood films in recent memory. It’s dark, character driven style is something I hope will influence the superhero genre for the better. Not only does this work as an origin story, but it succeeds spectacularly as a social commentary on the effects of mental illness and our broken care system. Joker can be a bit of an unpleasant viewing, due to it’s consistently dark and depressing tone, but beneath that is an incredibly intelligent character study that pays tribute to the greats and boasts a bravura Joaquin Phoenix performance.

4. Blue Valentine (2010, Derek Cianfrance, USA)

I’ll be honest with you....this film made me cry....a lot, so much so that I’m actually reluctant to ever watch it again. An absolutely heartbreaking account of how it feels to fall out of love, Blue Valentine never lets go of it’s depressing tone, even the scenes that flashback to how the lead characters fell in love have a certain melancholy feeling to them, due to the juxtaposition with scenes of their crumbling marriage. Despite how brutal this film is, it is fantastic, from beginning to end. Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams are at their best and lend realistic, devastating performances to match the tone. I’m glad to have seen this film, but don’t expect me to revisit it anytime soon.

5. Paterson (2016, Jim Jarmusch, USA)

Much like Frances Ha, Paterson is a film that moves me with it’s sweetly, optimistic tone and warm sense of humor. A simple ode to the beauty that can be found in day-to-day life, it’s a film that’ll make you pine for the simple pleasures of routine and home. It’s a very meditative film that has a very calming effect, I can watch this film in a horrible mood and still feel relaxed. Simple, but effective, Paterson is another excellent entry in Jim Jarmusch’s filmography that I look forward to seeing again and again.

6. Julieta (2016, Pedro Almodóvar, Spain)

This is a film that, while well-reviewed upon it’s release, seems to have been forgotten, even by some Almodóvar fans, which is a shame because I think it’s among his best works. Paying tribute to the female-centered melodramas of his youth, Almodóvar weaved together a touching, tantalizing anti-mystery that provides a sad, but strangely hopeful look at the struggles women face in our modern society. It’s a fascinating film with a great message that I hope audiences will gain a new appreciation for in the future.

7. Nebraska (2013, Alexander Payne, USA)

While Alexander Payne’s works usually have serious themes, masked underneath a playful, comedic tone, Nebraska is a more serious, introspective work from the filmmaker. Focusing on the on-set of old age and dying familial relationships, Nebraska is a film that’s often poignant, but not without Payne’s distinct sense of humor. What really struck me about this film is how realistic the characters are. I could compare each and every character to someone in my own life, from Bruce Dern’s senile Woody to Will Forte’s cynical David. Without a doubt, this is my favorite Alexander Payne film, due to it’s touching story, brilliant acting and it’s crisp black-and-white cinematography.

8. The Master (2012, Paul Thomas Anderson, USA)

If I had to pick one living filmmaker as a favorite, it’d be Paul Thomas Anderson. Each and every one of his films is an absolute labor of love and are technically perfect, from first frame to last. The Master is, by far, his most audacious. Every asepect of this movie works perfectly. It’s cinematography is absolutely breathtaking and captures the post-WWII setting, all of the performances are astounding, especially from the late Philip Seymour Hoffman in one of his best roles, the film’s themes of the nature of man and humans desperate need for a sense of connection are very thought-provoking and ring true. Admittedly, I had a hard time between choosing this film and PTA’s equally brilliant Phantom Thread, but the ambiguous nature and brilliant performances of The Master seems to have left the bigger impact on me.

9. Inside Llewyn Davis (2013, Coen brothers, France/USA)

While containing many of the familiar traits of the Coens’ work, Inside Llewyn Davis feels unlike any of their other works. It’s a slow, profound and melancholy film, unlike their previous eccentric comedies. I’m surprised at how well the duo can handle such a simple film. Oscar Isaac gives an excellent performance in this film as the titular Llewyn. It takes a lot of skill to take a character as unlikable as his and make him endearing. I loved the attention to detail of this film, the Coens made sure that this film was as accurate to the period as possible and it shows. At times, it felt like I was watching a documentary about 60s-era Greenwich Village. It may catch some Coen fans off guard, but it’s a fantastic entry in their filmography that you don’t want to miss.

10. We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011, Lynne Ramsay, UK)

Definitely one of the most unnerving films I’ve ever seen, We Need to Talk About Kevin is a film that has an added poignancy in recent years due to the rise of attention given to our treatment of the mentally ill. This is a film that gnaws at you by asking uncomfortable questions about mental illness, motherhood and responsibility for our actions, without ever picking sides or providing us with easy answers. Making this all the more impactful are the top-notch performances from Tilda Swinton and Ezra Miller as the troubled mother and violent son, respectively. A successful blend of horror and drama, this is a film that will unnerve even the most hardened viewers, so naturally, a second viewing isn’t guaranteed, but it’s a great film that deserves your attention, even if it’s only once.

...And that’s my list for the 2010s. Hopefully, the 2020s will be as strong a decade for film as this one was.

[galadrieljones]

As You Were (Chapter 11)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Found Family, Joel Lives | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

Summary:

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret, filled with painful memories and reminders of the past. But they aren’t alone. When they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival on their family farm, things finally start to take a new shape, altering the course of their lives in irrevocable ways. In the end, for those with little hope to spare, family is what you make it.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second.

*chapter specific cw: mention of suicide, depression

Chapter 11: Interlude II (The Ark)

That night, they sat up in the crow's nest, on separate bean bags, looking at their hands. Noah had wanted to take inventory of his books to decide which he was going to bring with him on the road, and which he was going to leave behind. But it felt weird now that he was up there, and pointless, and sad. Everything he knew, he would have to leave behind, and he would never see it again. Everything. They would have to board up the house, post signs on the electric fence. CONTAMINATED WATER. DO NOT DRINK. They should probably burn it all down, but his mother would not allow that. It was her childhood home, too. They would seal it up instead as a tomb and maybe in 100 years when the spores died or the mushrooms got burnt out the river by somebody with the means to do so, an enterprising explorer would come to this lonely region, discover their farm and read it like hieroglyphics on the wall, stories from another time. He would look at Noah's stack of books and think, What a discovery. What a thing to behold.

Danielle sat very still, as was her default setting. But she was also picking at her thumbnail, compulsively. She was not wearing her prayer kapp anymore. She still had her hair braided tightly to her head, but she had taken off her kapp. Noah knew some things about Amish by then, and he knew the different types of kapps and bonnets and their meanings. Usually, when she was away from home she would wear a black bonnet over her white kapp, because she was unmarried. But she didn't have the black bonnet today, only the white kapp, and she had only ever removed her head covering in front of him one other time that Noah could remember, and it was when they were thirteen years old and it had been so hot, they ran through the sprinkler and she took off the kapp for just one moment while she fixed her braids.

"What's wrong?" said Noah. He was deciding between The Road and Blood Meridian. He chose The Road, stuffed it in his backpack.

"Nothing," said Danielle. She had followed him up there without him knowing. She was quiet as a mouse. When she appeared, he was surprised, but it was okay. He didn't feel like being alone.

"Why are you biting your nails."

"I was just having a bad thought," she said. "You know. How it's over. Our lives, as we knew them once, they are over. My mom, and your dad. The land we knew and that raised us. All of it, gone, and now we too must be gone."

The way she talked sometimes, with her formal words and slight accent, it was foreign to Noah in a mythical way. "Yeah," said Noah.

She got up then, from the bean bag chair. She looked around. She picked up some of the books to read the summary on the back, then she set them back down again.

"Anything you want, you can have," he said. "Take whatever."

"Like what would I take?"

"Any of my books. I have a lot of comics inside, too."

She found this to be funny for some reason, smiled with her cheeks getting red. "Ha ha."

"What's funny?"

"Where are your guitars?" she said then, out of nowhere, like she was suddenly taken off guard. "I haven't been up here in a while. Where'd they go?"

"I burned them," said Noah, staring at her.

She gave him a long, disappointed look and shook her head. "All of them?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't have did that, Noah."

Sometimes, he felt legitimately like a crazy person, like an imposter. Perhaps he would have been better off on his own. "I know," he said.

She came and sat down beside him then. He had to move over to give her room. The bean bag chair crinkled beneath them and molded around their bodies. She turned to him. She looked right at him. She framed his face with her palms, touching them to his cheeks. Her hands were cold. "I'm eighteen now," she said.

"I know," said Noah. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

"Don't worry," she said. "I just, I have hope that my family and my life will find a new hope, do you?"

"I guess," said Noah.

"I'm going to miss you though," said Danielle. "So much. You can't know. You and your guitars. You gave me a good escape place, all my life, and you and your family were always so important to us."

"I'll miss you, too," he said, shrugging. He felt he had little left to give her. "I'm sorry about everything, Danielle. Everything sucks."

"It does," she continued. "But also, there is one thing that doesn't suck, which is I can make a choice, right now."

"Which choice?" said Noah.

She kissed him. It was simple and warm. She was like a shepherd, guiding him in. When they parted, she looked sad. This was not the first time they had kissed, but it had been a long time. A flood had come between them. It drowned much more than the hills.

"Why did you do that?" he said.

"Because I wanted to," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have asked first."

"It's okay," he said. He tucked one small, loose strand of yellow hair behind her ear. In truth, it had made him happy. For just one moment, it lifted him out of the dirt.

She looked out the window. She folded her hands in her lap demurely. She had freckles on her knuckles and her wrists. She smelled like clean laundry. Being close to her, it made him want more, but it would never happen, nor should it happen, and this he knew, so he put his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes.

"What was that song you played again, that one time?" said Danielle. "Like two years ago, when we were out here, and it was like, almost fall, just like this? I remember it was getting colder, but the frost still had not come. Take me over?”

"Take On Me," said Noah. "It was just some live version off one of my dad's records. MTV Unplugged or something."

"What's MTV Unplugged?"

"I don't know," said Noah. "Something from a million years ago. Joel probably knows. We could go inside and listen to it, if you want. You could ask him."

"Okay," she said, smiling. "Let's do that."

Inside, Cici had gone upstairs, to bed. Joel was sitting on the couch alone, drinking whiskey, and listening to more Ryan Adams on the record player. When Noah and Danielle first came inside, Noah was sort of embarrassed. He didn't know why. But Joel didn't make any sort of fuss about them. He didn't call attention, nor did he ask questions. He said hello to Danielle and told Noah he would get out of his hair.

"It's okay," said Noah. "We were just gonna listen to music anyway."

"What is this?" said Danielle. She had reassembled her kapp, on her head. She was only comfortable removing it around Noah. "This is a sad song."

"It's a song called Sylvia Plath," said Joel. "This album was released the day before my 17th birthday."

"Wow," said Danielle. "It must mean a lot to you."

"Well, I haven't heard it in a while," said Joel. "But hearing it again, now, yes it does bring me back."

"Do you know what MTV Unplugged is?" said Danielle.

Joel looked at Noah, who was looking down at his boots. He had his backpack over one shoulder, looking a little lost, a wanderer. Joel set down his whiskey, listening to the song. He said, "MTV Unplugged was on TV, a lot of years ago. Why you asking?"

"Noah knows a song. He played it once, on his guitar, from MTV Unplugged."

"His guitar?"

"Yes," said Danielle. She became embarrassed then, like she had done something wrong. She looked at Noah and then she looked down at her hands, folded into the front of her dress. Noah was looking off somewhere else, flexing his jaw. Something seemed to be going on, something that Joel wasn't privy to. Didn't matter.

"Well, okay," said Joel, ignoring the tension in the room. "You, uh, familiar with TV, Danielle?"

"Yes," said Danielle. "Noah has told me about it."

"Well, MTV Unplugged was just like, live studio recordings of musicians that were popular at the time. A live studio recording meant like, it was unproduced. Or, I don't know. They just played their instruments in a room, in front of people. No multiple takes, no effects or anything like that. Real stripped down. There were some pretty important recordings, back in those days. Some artists, it was a huge deal for them to get on MTV Unplugged."

"Thanks," said Danielle. "I suppose that makes sense?"

"Maybe," said Joel. “I don’t know what makes sense anymore.”

"You guys are up?" said Ellie. She was yawning, coming down the stairs in her PJs. "What the hell?"

"Don't worry," said Joel. "You didn't miss anything. And I was just about to head up myself."

"What are we listening to?" she said, totally ignoring him. She came into the living room and picked up the vinyl sleeve off the coffee table. "Ryan Adams. Gold. You sure like this guy, don't you, Joel?"

Joel sighed.

"Who's Sylvia Plath?"

"What am I, an encyclopedia?”

"Yes, actually," she said, plopping down on the couch next to him. She picked up his glass, sniffed it, and made a face. "Yuck."

"Sylvia Plath was a poet, right?" said Noah. "Didn't she kill herself?"

"She was a poet, yes," said Joel. "And yes, she did...commit suicide."

"Jesus," said Ellie, sinking into the cushions. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. "That's sad."

"Why did she take her own life?" said Danielle.

"I don't know," said Joel, resigned to his cause now, and outnumbered. "I guess she was unhappy. Or something. She had a rough marriage? Major depression. Ryan Adams, he had a lot of depression, too. Maybe he wrote this song to cope with all that."

"Music is a gift," said Danielle. "To think that his means of coping could become a song as beautiful as this. Perhaps it is a curse."

They all sat, staring at the record player. Joel got up and took the needle off the record. "Time for bed," he said.

"Come on," said Ellie. "I just got down here."

"Well, that was a mistake," said Joel. "Everybody, to bed. It's late."

With his sleeping bag unrolled in the living room that night, and the lamps turned down low, Noah listened to the song Sylvia Plath on repeat and thought about his life and all that had taken place, from the moment he realized he was alive, up to now, sitting alone on the floor in his living room in front of the fire, imagining himself in another scenario, far away in time and space, in which things were normal, or better, or safe. He envied Joel, in a way. Noah didn't know a better life, and he never would. That is how he felt, and what was meant by his sadness in the crow's nest. That is how he had been feeling for over a year, since his dad died, and the people he knew were all gone, and there were no more delusions, no more pastoral dreams where he could ignore the dying world in which he was born. He was now grown and he would have to go straight to it, make it his own. And Danielle would be okay, because she was not the same as him. She was bright and free and she trusted in god to carry her home, and whether that was bullshit or not, it didn't matter. People believe in the thing that they think will save them. Noah just didn't know what to believe. He was doing his best to follow his heart.

And she and I would sleep on a boat And swim in the sea without clothes With rain falling fast on the sea While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me Telling me it would all be okay Out on the horizon and fading away And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh

Ellie came back downstairs a couple minutes later, wired and unable to sleep. When he looked out the window, the moon had finally revealed itself from behind the clouds. It was big and white and full. At first Ellie just said hello and then she was walking around the room, looking at all the different things on the shelves and hanging on the walls, like she was in a museum. She was looking at the paintings, most of them unframed. She said, "Did your dad make these? They're all signed with a W. His name was William, right?"

"Yeah," said Noah. "His name was William, and yeah, he painted all those."

"Wow," said Ellie. "He was really good. These are amazing."

The paintings were mostly landscapes and livestock. There were some of Cici, some of Noah, but they were like, impressions. They were blurred into the background, just blinks of color against the green. "What's your last name?" said Noah. "I was just wondering."

"My last name?" said Ellie. She smiled. She said, "Uh, Williams, I guess. Weirdly enough. That's the second time someone's asked me that in the past like, day." She came and sat down on the floor next to him, resting her elbows on her knees. "What's yours?"

"Santos," said Noah.

"Noah Santos," said Ellie. She looked down at her thumbs. She was sticking them both up for some reason, pressing her knuckles together. "So, uh. What's up with you and Danielle, Noah Santos? You guys a thing or something?"

"Not really," said Noah. He looked directly at her. His eyes were kind of dark and big, but they weren't as dark up close as they looked from far away. "Not anymore. We're just friends.” He took a huge, deep breath then, and Ellie could tell there was a lot more but that he just didn't feel like talking about it.

"Well," she said. "Friends are pretty great, too."

"Yeah, they're okay," said Noah.

They both smiled.

"I had a friend once," she said. "A long time ago. Her name was Riley."

”How’d you guys meet?”

”School. Or, jail. Whatever you wanna call it.”

"Where's Riley now?" said Noah.

Ellie looked at the fire, big and bright, like a carousel. "It's a long story. But she's gone."

Noah hung his head and looked down at the woodgrain in the floor. He said, "I'm sorry. I'm a dick."

"It's okay," said Ellie, nodding to herself, trying to be peppy. She didn't want to be sad that night. She wanted to be positive, and alert. Joel and Noah were back. They were heading out soon, on the road again. There was hope. “You're not a dick. And it’s all gonna be okay, don’t you think?”

"I hope so," he said.

Ellie’s optimism was contagious, and perhaps that’s why she felt like home to so many who lie awake in the night, thinking more about the past than the future. She lived close to the edge of her worth, it's true. She wanted to believe that there was a reason, for all of this. That there was a purpose, a meaning, behind why she kept on living while all the other people she cared about died. Riley, Tess, Henry, Sam. But she hid volumes. She did it all to help her friends stay afloat. But it wouldn't last forever. She was only one girl.

When they drove away from the farm, they did not want. The wind shook the trees, which were turning colors in the late September light. Danielle waved at Noah, standing between her father and her brother on the lawn.

It was two trucks to Moline, Joel and Ellie out front, headed for the I-80. "Here goes nothing," said Cici. She was driving, stone-faced. It was done. They had lost this place long before. It belonged to the dead now. She took Noah's hand as they escaped.

***

On the record player:

“Sylvia Plath” by Ryan Adams

[in-dire-need]

Eurus- The Oh Hellos

Before I begin, I would like to apologize for my recent absence over the past few weeks. I have been out of the loop and have a lot of other projects on my plate, so this one just slipped away. I will try to post at least two blogs a week, possibly on Monday and Friday. 

I promised in my first blog that there was much more The Oh Hellos content to come. Well, here it is. ‘Eurus’ is the god of the east wind, son of Eos and Astraeus. To The Oh Hellos, it is the most recent installment of their enchanting discography. Just like their previous releases, Eurus thrives on heavy references to Biblical tales, Greek Mythology, and of course, C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters. Deep within, the album focuses on how all of our religious beliefs are often projections of our love and pain.  

The album begins with the slow but enveloping track ‘O Sleeper’, possibly mirroring the lyric from the Dear Wormwood track ‘Caesar’. 

‘Rise up to meet it, oh sleeper awake’. 

Whereas ‘Caesar’ referred to Ephesians 5:14, ‘O Sleeper’  references Genesis 6-9. These chapters depict Noah’s Ark and The Great Flood. As a person who was raised Catholic, I have heard this story a hundred times. For those who haven’t, here is a simple explanation:

After creating human life, God realizes that it was a mistake. They are disgusting, barbaric, and mortal. His solution is to create a great flood to destroy the entire world so that he can rebuild. He found the one man who was righteous and free of blame and instructed him to build a gigantic ark. Noah complied and God then instructed him to take two of each animal on earth with him and his family. The chosen survivors took to the ark and lived safely as every living being and plant on Earth was destroyed. After ten months, Noah sent out a raven in hopes that it would find land. It returned with an olive branch, signifying land. After a year in total, the passengers of the ark left and made their homes on land. 

‘O Sleeper’ is set in God’s perspective as he views what his creation has become. He made human beings in his image, with his soul, only for them to become wicked and turn their backs to him. The theme of Noah’s Ark is continued into the title of the next track, ‘Dry Branches’, albeit an instrumental transition piece. 

The album continues with the thought-provoking and vibrantly uplifting third track. While continuing the overarching theme of Noah’s Ark, ‘Grow’ presents calming and vivid imagery that sends a message of personal growth and maturation. Sometimes, knowledge and certainty only holds you back. There is no need to know exactly where you are going or push your life in the direction you think it needs to go. As the famous phrase says, “Que sera sera.” Whatever happens happens and if all of your ducks aren’t in a row, so what? It is one of the most important lessons you can learn in life, and ‘Grow’ describes it so well that the only way I can fully explain it is by telling you to go listen to it yourself. Even the atmosphere aids the song’s purpose by presenting an entire ensemble sing-along. The upbeat and inspiring energy is absolutely infectious and cannot be told, only experienced. 

Following this enchanting tune is title track ‘Eurus’. It describes how the Greek gods took responsibility for every natural phenomenon and human emotion and how they controlled the non-pagans with harsh taxes and laws. It also slightly mentions human mortality and controversy pertaining to the afterlife, but more will come of that in the next vocal track, ‘Hieroglyphs’. 

A separation provided by the adorably comedic transitional piece ‘A Convocation of Fauns(A Faunvocation, If You Will)’ brings us into the final two tracks. ‘Hieroglyphs’ provides the same group atmosphere presented in ‘Grow’ and ‘Eurus’ along with a similar, upbeat message. So many people waste their entire lives obsessing over where they are going after they are dead, and before they know it they have let their entire one life flash by. If they aren’t worried about where they are going, they are worried about who is going to stop them. In fighting these imaginary evils, we manifest one deep inside ourselves. In the act of obsessing over the afterlife and God and Satan and whatnot, we are turning our own minds against us and becoming our own worst enemies. We then create this unending cycle of worry and violence that should never have come to fruition. In short, don’t worry about where you are going. Don’t worry about what lies eons ahead. Focus on your life because before you know it, it will be gone.

Most birds in the animal kingdom can fall under the category of a passerine, but many fall under two specific categories- songbird or prey. Those are the two types of birds referenced by the Heath siblings in the final track, ‘Passerine’. This song continues the group energy to the end, but somewhat dims the overall positivity. The passerines in question here are the followers of Jesus. They were intended to be songbirds, singing of the love of Christ, but something went wrong and they became nothing but weak little birds of prey. Their Messiah was killed and they were persecuted for over two centuries. As martyr after martyr fell and more Christians were forced to suppress their beliefs, Jesus’ followers became pitiful game for the Romans and other leaders. 

In the modern day, Christians populate one third of the entire world, making it the largest standing religion to this day. That statistic simply defends the entire premise of Eurus. Your life will change, and it will be for the better. There is no need to push yourself in a million different directions or obsessively worry about where you are going once you are six feet under. The world lives on, and so will you. Whether you believe in some kind of god or not, it is vital for you to know that everything will work out without you forcing it to. Bad things happen, but it is those bad things and bad events that lead us to the best parts of our lives. For example, I found my life’s passion through one of the most stressful and depressing periods of my life. There is a silver lining to everything, and even if you do not believe it now, you will find it. Everything will be okay, Internet. Go enjoy yourselves.

“Let be what is, let be what isn't It's a natural world in which we're living And if you let it alone, it will surely grow Just leave it alone, child, and let it go“

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

Super Heroes are a HUMAN power fantasy Part 1

Master Post

Super Heroes are a HUMAN power fantasy Part 2

Osvaldo Oyola , J. Lamb and Noah Berlatsky (who hates super heroes on principle btw), along with other dumbasses, have often said they are male/white supremacist power fantasies.

Nah fam. They are nothing more and nothing less than a HUMAN power fantasy.

Follow me along here for a while.

Human beings are animals.

We are. That’s a simple matter of scientific fact.

When push comes to shove we are really, really, really smart monkeys who share something like 50+% genes in common with chimpanzees.

As animals and all forms of life the overwhelming majority of us are biologically hardwired towards one ultimate goal: survival.

The desire to survive drives us innately in ways that go unnoticed most of the time. As we evolved into smarter creatures with higher brain functions capable of comprehending the world around us and constructing complex relationships and societies, that survival instinct was reinterpreted through various means.

The survival instinct in human beings and other mammals takes several forms but most commonly can boil down to two things:

a)      Survival through preservation of the individual

b)      Survival through procreation

Type a) involves getting food, shelter, rest, avoiding and recovering from injury and of course defending one’s self from threats, which can take the form of other living creatures, including members of our own species.

Type b) involves spawning offspring and at the same time looking after their wellbeing.

But the survival instinct goes deeper than that because we are biologically hardwired to work towards the protection of our very species. That is the very reason why type a) and b) even exist. By preserving ourselves and our offspring our species survives.

We are also communal animals. Much like chimpanzees and gorillas we live in groups for mutual benefit and protection. Thus, as part of survival of ourselves, our offspring and our species, we have a biological investment in protecting members of our group and of our species.

But seemingly paradoxically we are also hardwired to compete with and fight one another. This likely a by-product of how in the wild we’d have to compete for resources like food and shelter. Sometimes this involves two different groups from the same species competing with one another for survival.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because deep down all those things I have just talked about are innate to 99% of all human beings. It is little wonder that as we as a species evolved we expressed these biological driving forces in certain ways no other creatures could.

This is where the concept of our deities, Gods and figures from folklore and myth come from.

Jupiter, Vishnu, Thor, Hercules, Sun Wukong, Sampson, the Biblical version of Jesus Christ.

Whether they adopt the form of human beings or other entities, virtually every single culture on Earth, even those in isolation of one another, have conceived of beings greater than themselves. Beings with abilities beyond the average human being. And they’ve also conceived of those beings from time to time using their abilities to defy the laws of nature (such as averting natural disasters), combat dangerous or malevolent forces/creatures/individuals, and/or safeguarding the lives of others.

It is a form of explaining the world around us, and an act of wish fulfilment of the human experience.

We want to survive and since we are by our nature group animals we desire to be protected. Thus we conceive beings greater than ourselves who could potentially do that.

We want to survive by preserving our individual selves, so we imagined beings that are so powerful that they are not as reliant upon rest and sustenance like normal people. And who are powerful enough that they either cannot be easily harmed and are are capable of defending themselves from potential threats.

We have within us a vested biological interest in preserving our species, and so are hardwired to protect members of our family/group; our kin. Thus as part of our human wish fulfilment fantasies we imagine beings we’d like to be who could have the power to protect members of our species.

We then come to the modern superhero.

Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, etc. Fundamentally they are the exact same thing.

Individuals with powers beyond those of the average human being, who use those powers to help and protect people, typically from numerous threats (which most commonly take the form of individuals with malevolent intentions). This can include perceived social ills which plague society and by extension pose a threat to the survival or quality of life of ordinary citizens.

One can exchange Hercules fighting the mythological Hydra for Superman fighting Darkseid or Captain America fighting H.Y.D.R.A. terrorists and it is ultimately the same thing. Batman battling crime in Gotham city fundamentally is no different from Theseus defeating criminals and bandits on his travels. When Spider-Man swings into action to save Mary Jane from the Green Goblin, it is an expression of much the same thing the Indian deity Rama went through to save his bride Sita.

Many super heroes though are also vigilantes, someone who imposes their own sense of morality whilst working outside of the law. Vigilantes in the real world and in myths, folklore, fiction and so on can also be found throughout history. Perhaps the most notable example being Robin Hood, who denounced his noble status to steal from the rich and give what he took to the poor who were being over taxed and oppressed by a corrupt system. Other examples would be the Scarlet Pimpernel or Zorro.

What I am trying to say is that at their core, modern day super heroes are fundamentally modern riffs of the folkloric and mythic traditions and/or similar expressions of the universal human experience (which are informed by innate biological imperatives).

Ostensibly, in creating Superman (the first true superhero), Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were either:

a)      Consciously/subconsciously influenced by these older mythic stories when they created Superman (and thus birthed the entire genre), or

b)      basically tapped into the same kind of thinking which birthed Robin Hood, Hercules, Sun Wukong, etc. in the first place. Across the centuries great minds seemingly thought alike

Superman in particular was possibly heavily influenced by the figure of super strong Sampson or the Clay Golem of Prague, both of whom are part of Jewish religion and folklore (Siegel and Shuster being Jewish immigrants). He might even be seen as a kind of Moses figure. Someone sent away from his natural people to grow up elsewhere, but nevertheless destined for greatness. Or maybe he was just a messiah figure. Whether Siegel and Shuster had Jesus Christ in their minds at all or not, the Jewish religion does (I believe) talk about a saviour figure and Superman could very well be an expression of that.

Figuring into Superman’s creation was 1930s depression and the shadow of impending global war as Hitler was gathering power and invaded Poland the year after Superman was created. In his debut Superman is not only superhumanly powerful but uses these powers as a vigilante to do things like:

·         stop wife beaters

·         rescue someone framed for murder, whilst apprehending the real murderer

·         capture gangsters and rescue a kidnapped person (Lois Lane)

·         bring a corrupt politician to justice

This was an expression of 1930s fears and frustrations. Of Siegel and Shuster’s desires to right the wrongs of a system which was perceived to be broken…or at least envision someone who could do that seemingly impossible task.

The next year in 1939, Batman would come along and express many of these sentiments even more acutely, in particular when it came to crime.

As time went by and the superhero genre was consolidated and evolved, many heroes had their histories altered in order to make them more coherent. In Batman’s specific case his home of Gotham city was painted as so utterly corrupt from the lowest criminal to the most powerful political figures that Batman was literally the one and only effective deterrent to crime. Hope of legal or political reform was next to impossible, thus Batman’s brand of vigilantism was the only thing which could stand in the way of criminals from just doing whatever they wanted.

Bearing all this in mind the idea that the superhero genre is an inherent white construction (and therefore inherently racist, deliberately or otherwise) is, you know…fucking bullshit.

There is a difference between something defined by someone of one race or another and it being something which in indicative to them ONLY. There is also a difference between something having ‘white supremacist undertones’ and something simply being created at a certain point in time when cultural norms were (sadly) different to what they became later on.

As originally created Superman (and by extension the genre) was functionally the same kind of wish fulfilment expressesed by countless storytellers from countless cultures across human history, all informed by universal biological impulses to survive.

Yes, the superhero genre was created and constructed by white people and is therefore literally a ‘white construction’. Yes there weren’t many (if any) non-white characters outside of horrible racial stereotypes. Yes many of them took the law into their own hands.

But that doesn’t mean they are in support of white supremacist notions ala the Ku Klux Klan.

In fact given that Siegel and Shuster were of Jewish immigrant descent, one could argue that Superman was a reflection of how minorities need to be BETTER than the majority to be accepted and/or he was arguably an expression of their frustrations at being mistreated themselves an minorities.

On the other hand let’s say that ‘white supremacy’ strictly meant that superheroes operated with the belief in white people being the default, and as the majority, they were better than the non-whites. Superman was created at a time of segregation after all.

The problem is there is no evidence I know in support of Superman, by his mere existence, is consciously implying that white people are better than non-white people. I wouldn’t put it past Siegel and Shuster to believe that given the times they were from, but ALL media was like that. To an extent they honestly didn’t know any better. But just because they believed that and the social context of the time informed people of this, that doesn’t mean that those ideas are inherent to the superhero genre.

Because again, the superhero genre ultimately embodies beliefs and practices which date back throughout human history and can be found in many non-white cultures.

Yes. Their brand of heroism and the beliefs about heroism they embody were gifted to them by their white creators. And those creators were informed by white social norms (as in the white society they grew up in informed Siegel and Shuster that wife beating was bad). But that doesn’t mean that the superhero moral compass is inherently something that is itself white by design. Rather, it goes beyond that to form a mostly universal form of morality. And lest we forget American society and its laws were mostly informed by Jewish and Christian religious beliefs and practices, which themselves were not only innovated centuries before American society, but by people who were NOT white.

Yes, these superheroes are vigilantes, many of which wear masks and employ secret identities. But not only is that a matter of practicality within their work, as well as part of generating drama within the narrative, but this does not (as the above mentioned dumbasses believe) mean they are inheriting a legacy from the Ku Klux Klan.

Theseus and Robin Hood acted as vigilantes of a sort who again predate the KKK. The Scarlet Pimpernel is widely regarded as the originator of the secret identity trope, and he was created by a Hungarian born British woman!

Just because a superhero might act as a vigilante and impose their sense of morality outside of the law (maybe even using force to do it) doesn’t equate them with the KKK, because it completely and utterly ignores the specifics of the circumstances. It is like saying anyone who kills is a serial killer, when they might have killed for justifiable reasons. Superman and Batman might be operating as vigilantes with secret identities but we the readers can plainly see that they are genuinely justified in what they are doing.

But that’s because the writer has established that!

I hear you cry.

Yes that is true...so what though?

If the writer has set up circumstances which justify the superheroes actions then you can’t just IGNORE those. You can’t just choose the evidence you take under consideration to fit the conclusion you want. In this case that’d be the interpretation of superheroes are endorsements of white supremacist notions ala the KKK or police officers who abuse their powers.

That’s like desiring to interpret Star Wars as the story of white supremacy because the ‘black’ clad figures of the Empire are ultimately overthrown by the white Rebel Alliance and the ‘light side' of the force. It ignores the respective actions of the Empire and Alliance in-story.

It’s is presuming the Empire to represent black people and the Alliance white people in the first place and then working backwards from there. Equally it is presuming superheroes to be stand-ins for ACTUAL police officers or KKK style vigilantes in the first place.

And that cop analogy inherently doesn’t work because superheroes are only SIMILAR to cops. The analogy ultimately breaks down because they aren’t subject to ANY legal sanctions, many of them do not kill and their crime fighting efforts stereotypically takes the form of them intervening ONLY if they hear about a crime/crisis ahead of time or if they observe it in progress.

I mean one of the above morons conflated Spider-Man’s Spider-Sense to be a stand in for racial profiling which is an utterly inappropriate analogy. The Spider-Sense was originally constructed as a clumsy plot device that first and foremost operated as a personalised danger sense to Spider-Man of threats. Outside of contrived writing it categorically doesn’t alert him to ANY potential crime or criminal. And it doesn’t discriminate the way racial profiling does. It more often than not allows him to pinpoint precisely who might be a potential threat because they ARE a potential threat.

Spider-Man or Superman or Batman in the course of their work have these skills and it enables them to be ABOVE things like racial profiling. Again, taking their stalking of a potential criminal to be a tacit approval of police methods is an interpretation being overlaid ONTO   the superhero and then presumed to be factually what it is.

But it’s not.

It’s just an (mis)interpretation of what is going on informed by one person’s personal experiences and baggage through life. It is the same kind of logic which will take say a female character who has a male love interest as 100% definitely an enforcement of the idea that women ‘need a man’ to validate them when that isn’t necessarily the case of the story at all.

Building upon this is the oft-repeated interpretation that superheroes are fascists and are supportive of fascist values. That is an incredibly simplistic and literal reading of the superhero genre that ignores aspects plain as day on the page of the stories. It again is CHOOSES to see something in the concept which frankly misses the point but is nevertheless accepted as plain fact regardless.

An article in the Atlantic addresses this very eloquently:

This [fascist] reading of superheroes is common but wrong, a symptom of trying to impose political ideology on a universal, fictional myth. Superheroes do say something about the real world, but it’s something pretty uncontroversial: We want to see good triumph over evil, and “good” in this case means more than just defeating the bad guy—it means handling power responsibly.

The “fascism” metaphor breaks down pretty quickly when you think about it. Most superheroes defeat an evil power but do not retain any power for themselves. They ensure others’ freedom. They rarely deal with the government, and when they do it is with wariness, as in the Iron Man films, where Tony Stark refuses to hand over control of his inventions.

Indeed, superhero tales are full of subplots about how heroes limit their own power: hibernating once the big bad guy has been defeated, wearing disguises to live ordinary lives, choosing not to give into the temptation to ally with the villain or use their powers for profit or even civilizational progress. That’s because the creators of some of the most foundational superhero tales weren’t writing solely out of a power fantasy. They were writing out of a fantasy that a truly good people who find themselves with power might use that power only for good—and only in the face of extreme evil.

YES superheroes are a power fantasy.

But there is NOTHING wrong with power fantasies so long as one understands the distinction between the fiction and reality.

More than this...the hard truth is violence is part of being human. We are biologically hard wired to be violent and dominate others. That is innate to us like many, many, many animals. The flipside to that though is what also makes us human is the ability (and perhaps more importantly the DESIRE) to NOT be like that.

Most superhero fiction simultaneously offers us the opportunity to enforce those values whilst at the same time providing us with a safe outlet for our violent urges. We transfer those urges into the heroes and villains fighting one another. Kinda like how in Ancient Rome gladiator fights and other spectacles were used as a way of avoiding the populace of Rome from erupting into violence.

And don’t sit there and tell me that they ENCOURAGE violence.

If someone is going to be violent like that frankly there are almost ALWAYS further underlying factors often to do with their home life And

Human beings have been killing each other and acting in immoral ways LONG before the invention of popular media. Preventing ourselves from being like that is an act of learned control as we grow up. It is otherwise innate to our instincts.

Furthermore the concept of superheroes as being police officers who enforce the status quo and therefore help keep white people in power is incredibly flawed.

First of all Doc Ock nuking New York city hurts everyone regardless of race. Second of all Batman stopping a mugger in the middle of assaulting someone isn’t upholding white power, it’s just safeguarding life. Reading it as more than that is a projection these asshats are injecting INTO the stories themselves when they aren’t warranted.

Finally, the law might be stacked in favour of white power and minority suppression. But that not only has a lot to do with ABUSE of the law, but at the same time large chunks of the law are there legitimately for the well being of EVERYONE. It is illegal to murder someone, to mug them, to exploit them. None of that ensures white power, it ensures the well being of everyone. The problem is that those laws are often warped when being applied to minorities by the police force.

But superheroes don’t represent the police force. They represent something grander than the police force whilst at the same time representing what the police force SHOULD be like. The message isn’t ‘this is what the police are like’ or even ‘the police are heroes so anything they do is therefore a good thing’. It is providing a strong moral ideal and saying ‘You and everyone else should try to be like this’.

It is because of this that the superhero concept REVEALS the warts and shortcomings of the law and law enforcement as it really exists. Which was a part of 1930s frustrations Superman et al were giving vent to. Again, Action Comics #1 showed us corrupt politicians, commentating upon a flawed system.

Basically Superman being who he is doesn’t tell people that a police officer is justified when he racially profiles a black person as a criminal. Quite the opposite, he reveals us that they were WRONG in doing that because Superman would NEVER do that.

Ultimately, yeah these characters were created within a white context, but my point is fundamentally the same thing was created in non-white contexts as well throughout history.

Super Heroes are a HUMAN power fantasy Part 2

Master Post

[w-ngs]

may20

feels weird writing about something as mundane as a ~monthly completeds~ during a literal fuckin’ revolution, so i just wanted to point whoever might end up reading this to my second to last post where i linked: 1) a website with multiple other links to donate to and 2) a link to a free (!!!!!) youtube video that you can watch without skipping ads to help generate revenue for even more donations. we can at least do this much to help our black brothers and sisters.

~ pachinko, min jin lee — originally i was going to make a full, separate post about this book because oh my god how beautifully tragic and culturally eye-opening of a book. but it actually took me uh... around 3 months to finish reading because it kinda got forgotten in the middle of moving back home from college and quarantine and all the other coronavirus business. i don’t want to butcher what i remember about the first half, so i moved it to here. great ready, this is going to be kind of a long one. while reading, i was fully struck by how i literally know nothing, NOTHING about my korean culture. koreans as a whole have suffered discrimination in ways i didn’t know asians could suffer. what made it even more mind-boggling was that it was discrimination by other asians. the japanese, to be specific. honestly, i got nothing against them. my parents are very staunchly on one side (you can probably guess which) and rightly so. they’re products of a fading japanese imperialism, so there’s no reason for them not to have strong opinions about japan. what i feel like i should have expected, but really didn’t, was how much death was a prevailing factor within all the stories. it’s everywhere. and because of that, as well as other factors such as racism or depression or sickness or even freak accidents, no one even came close to living what most people would categorize as a happy life (i say most people because i’m kind of iffy about the concept of “happiness,” so whenever i refer to the feeling it’s more in a generally accepted definition of the word). not a single person was able to escape suffering on the basis of ethnicity. lol there was one moment where i wondered how they could tell koreans apart from japanese because there are times when i can barely tell different asians apart myself. but i guess since koreans in japan (and in general, except our mans koh hansu) lived less privileged lifestyles, it would be easy to tell with a glance at their outer appearance. another aspect about this story i found striking was lee’s writing style. although simple, it added just enough detail to really make that emotional punch hit you right in the gut. there were some characters i felt more attached to than others (noah and sunja, you two will live in my heart), but there wasn’t a single person’s story i didn’t want to read about. each one offered glimpses into lives of koreans who moved to japan to try and live better lives. but alas, hardships exist no matter where one goes. lee’s book taught me that there is so much more to my culture than what i’m only currently exposed to, and it made me want to know more. more about my history and the people that suffered and died to try and create a better world for their children.

~ educated, tara westover — see my full post about this book here! also, just read it. you won’t regret it.

~ an enchantment of ravens, margaret rogerson — cindy (readwithcindy on youtube; i love her check her out) gushed about this book so much in her past videos it made me really hyped to read it as well. except i was really disappointed, lol. her biggest point was that the book’s basically all fluff, which is true for some parts. but the fluff ain’t even that fluffy. i was excepting cotton candy/make-your-teeth-ache fluff, but it was meh. honestly i think my favorite character was either gadfly (what a savage) or aster (what a psychotic but still adorable girl). i did like the concept of “craft” and its consequences/benefits. the world-building was well thought out and overall an interesting take on faeries. i’d recommend it to people who are in the mood to enjoy a short and simple romance fantasy story.

~ the grand design, leonard mlodinow & stephen hawking — the book i actually wanted to read instead was a brief history of time, but that wasn’t available in my library’s ebook app yet. so i picked this one because it sounded interesting (multiverse theory! wow!) and i was truly not disappointed. i also had no idea what my brain was absorbing more than half the time and i don’t think i retained even a fourth of what was said. but they did talk about some cool things, like parallel universes and how we literally create our own past by trying to figure out how it happened. and how there are infinite choices we could have made but those don’t end up mattering because the choices we made are what have placed us where we are now. or something along those lines. a very cool book. wish i had the brain capacity to appreciate it more fully.

~ lol also i made a post about crash landing on you if anyone wants to read it haha

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Sixteen

We have arrived in Act 2 and Logan is now officially Patton’s son but how long will that happiness last, prepare yourself for more angst and heartbreak to come but don’t worry there will be plenty of fluff in there for you also. Thank you for you support and kind comments.

Masterlist

Summary: The time has arrived for Logan to leave 

Word Count: 7972 (prepare yourself for some longer chapters)

Warnings: Past child abuse, bullying, hospital mention, self-deprecation, panic attack, non-verbal, swearing, reference to injuries, bruises, implied depression, disordered eating, death mention. (If there is anything I was missed please let me know).

Logan was waiting at the window. He had hardly slept that night, recalling Patton’s promise to him, for him to return the following day to take him home. Home. He had never had a home before. His parents house was more comparable to a museum then a family home, filled with precious artefacts which he would be severely punished if he touched. Even his room was bare apart from the simple bed and desk though he spent more nights locked in the nightmarish closest, clawing at the walls and gasping for air. That was not a home. The Orphanage was not a home to Logan either, with the shared living space he was segregated within, he had no space of his own, the others had no care for his personal privacy or his possessions, they were violated and destroyed. That was not a home.

What would Patton’s house be like? Logan thought as he gazed wistfully out of the window and onto the street. He imagined it would be large, given the size of his family, but simultaneously cosy with decorative pillows and soft blankets draped across the sizeable couch. Toys and games scattered in organised chaos around the living area, Roman’s artwork framed and mounted on the wall, along side the family portraits - mostly of his children of course - each wall painted a different blindingly bright colour. A wide expense of kitchen, perfect for the preparation of a multitude of incredible dishes, producing an wonderful odour which would flow through the entire house, reaching every room and seeping through the walls becoming apart of the foundation. That was a home.

Logan had packed his minimal belongings the night before, all of his clothes, shoes and personal items fitting into a single rucksack, he placed underneath his bed ready to be collected the minute Patton arrived. But until then he was stuck, looking out of the window, while the other kids laughed and played around him though Logan didn’t take much notice but he was aware of the certain happiness which had entered the Orphanage since Madame Claire was arrested and they were free of her control. The common room didn’t seem so horrible any more.

Just as Logan paid no attention to them, they paid him no mind, which seemed to be a common occurrence since returning from the hospital. Gone were the nasty comments whispered behind his back or spoken within full hearing range, the 10 pm beating leaving him to pick himself up off the floor and treat his ever growing number of injuries. They treated him with a sense of civility, presumably out of thanks for taking the brunt of Madame Claire’s abuse and the one who led to her long awaited arrest. Perhaps Logan had also thought to harshly of his fellow orphans who were also facing cruelty at the hands of their supposed guardians and were mere products of their environment, as was he. They banded together for survival purposes, using a pack like mentality to serve as protection against any potential threats or danger. It was understandable. Had Logan been raised differently he expected he would do the same for the sake of survival in a world which had not treated them kindly. Logan remained separated, though now by personal choice rather then his fellow orphans hatred of him and they all lived in a strange sense of harmony.

Logan pressed his fingers to the glass in order to get a better view. The anticipation was killing him - figuratively of course - and every time he saw a pedestrian cross the street his heart leapt into his throat, only to sink again when a stranger was revealed instead of Patton. This occurred several times until he caught a splash of yellow, a yellow so familiar to him, it was the yellow rain jacket which had been worn on every single one of Patton’s visits and he couldn’t conceal the audible squeak of excitement as he leapt to his feet and near ran out of the common room for the boys dormitory to collect his rucksack with a sense of child like wonder he had thought lost but it didn’t last for long.

“And where do you think you are going in such a hurry, Lobot?” Brandon asked his voice thick with hatred and mockery. He was blocking Logan entry into the dorm, wicked grin widening as he approached. It seemed not all of his former bullies were content leaving him alone.

“Let me through, Brandon,” Logan demanded standing a little straighter in an attempt to make himself seem more imposing but Brandon only laughed.

“No, I don’t think I will, everyone else might have backed off but not me. I am only just getting started with you,” Brandon said taking another step forward as Logan took one back.  

“Your efforts will all be for naught as I am leaving you and this place today,” Logan announced raising his chin only for Brandon to bark out a laugh in response, the harshness of the sound causing Logan to flinch.

“Ha, don’t make me laugh. How pathetic are you to believe that man would want to adopt you?” Brandon spat backing Logan into the wall. “I bet he will just be like all of the others, they will pretend to love you, pretend to care for you and then…they will leave you,”.

“No, Pat…Mr Hart isn’t like that?” Logan exclaimed refusing to believe any more lies.

“No Logan, your dear Patton is exactly like that. He will see soon enough what a horrible mistake he made in choosing you and you will be back,” Brandon growled like an animal pressing one hand against Logan’s chest to keep him from escaping. “You will be all…alone,”.

Logan voice-box spasmed painfully in his throat as he opened his mouth to retort but no sound came out, with those five words Brandon had stolen his voice and he was helpless to defend himself, so instead he hung his head and awaited the first hit which never came.

“You will be back Lobot and when you do I will be here waiting for you,” Brandon said and smiled a final time before releasing Logan who stumbled barely catching himself as Brandon sauntered off, leaving Logan with a dangerous swirl of thoughts in his head.

You will be all alone.

Alone

Alone

Alone

Logan picked himself up and charged into his room, settling on his bed in attempt to settle his hammering heart and rapid breathing. He threw his bag across the room and run his hand through his hair again and again, wishing he could scream but his voice was trapped inside. He sat on the edge of his bed, running his hands up and down his arms as he fought an internal war and attempted to count through the breathing technique Patton had taught him, in attempt to control his quickening breaths. Until he heard a faint knock on the door, he silenced his choked breaths, fearing Brandon had returned to further torture him but when the door opened it revealed a boy…Noah he believed his name was. A small - far to small - quiet boy around eight or nine who Logan hadn’t heard say anything more than a few words. He wasn’t one of Brandon’s cronies but he hadn’t leapt to Logan’s rescue the minute he was cornered but Logan hadn’t expected him too.

Noah stared at Logan’s sorry state with a troubled expression on his face, Logan expected him to laugh, to berate him before running off to tell the others he found the robot crying but Noah did none of those things. Instead he closed the door, softly without making a sound, walked soundlessly over towards Logan’s bed and sat down beside him, risking short glances towards him every so often as Logan wrung his hands and rocked back and forth.

“A-are you okay?” Noah asked his voice barely louder than a whisper as he tapped his fingertips against his thighs. Logan was momentarily stunned, he had never expected one of his fellow orphans, the children who frequently bullied and were a source of years of torment for him, to attempt to comfort him. His head snapped around quickly causing Noah to flinch back at the intensity.

“Are you alright, I heard what Brandon said. He is a…bastard,” Noah repeated a little louder this time before breaking into a fit of soft giggles at the rude term he had used, lessening the weight on Logan’s chest slightly.

Logan nodded his head, as his voice had yet to return, perplexed by the suddenness of Noah’s concern.

“That is…good, I guess…Um, I just wanted to say sorry, we were all jerks to you,” Noah admitted both the confession and apology shocked Logan to the point he had almost entirely forgotten about his altercation with Brandon.

Logan shook his head quickly in response.

“No, you did everyone a favour in…getting rid of…her,” Noah stammered out as if the memory of Madame Claire plagued him still just as it did Logan.

Logan shook his head again, slower this time, momentarily confused by how he assisted in any way.

“Still, thanks. It helped,” Noah said his voice returning to it’s soft whisper as he bowed his head, long hair falling into his eyes.

Logan pointed to his own injuries and bruises before motioning to Noah who nodded before he had even finished his motion, he sighed and lifted up his shirt, which was far to big for his tiny frame, revealing a large and painful looking bruise across his abdomen and ribs.

“She found out I was the one who led Miss Maggie to seeing your bruises, it wasn’t the first time it had happened,” Noah admitted lowering his shirt, then fell silent again. This moment of consolidation between the pair felt significant as if a break through had been made in forming a relationship, perhaps a tentative friendship or at least an understanding of each other. “Uh, Maggie wanted to see you. That is why I came up, I think that guy is here,”.

Logan startled. Patton. He had completely forgotten about Patton. His throat spasmed painfully as he raised a hand to it. He couldn’t meet Patton like this, he was supposed to be going home with him, this was supposed to be a momentous occasion and not to be ruined by his over reaction to the words of a bully. Noah seemed to notice Logan drastic change in demeanour as his expression once again changed to concern.

“It will be alright, if this guy is a good as I have heard, you will be okay,” Noah said laying a tentative hand on Logan’s shoulder. “And don’t worry about your voice, it happens to me all of the time, okay?”.

Logan glanced up at his strange new acquaintance curiously, he didn’t know any of the specifics of Noah’s past, he knew that like his own it certainly wasn’t good. He had been hurt by the people who were supposed to care for him and that lead him here, where that abuse only continued. Just like him.

“Are you ready?” Noah asked standing and extending his hand out toward Logan, who nodded and took it graciously, allowing himself to be assisted before taking a final deep breath, collected his bag and followed Noah down to the foyer where Patton would be waiting for him.

“Logan, you are here,” Maggie exclaimed when she caught sight of Logan, she paused for a moment presumably taking note of Logan’s dishevelled appearance and her expression swiftly converted to one of concern as her gaze flitted between Noah and himself.

“Logan can’t talk right now but other than that he is okay,” Noah said who glanced towards Logan as he explained briefly the situation which Logan was incredible grateful for. Noah’s voice had quietened again but not to the extent where he became impossible to understand.

“Are you sure, Logan?” Maggie asked a hint of worry present in her tone as she presumably studied him, he nodded in response and the tension eased from her shoulders somewhat. “Okay, well, are you already to head off?”.

Logan glanced over to where Patton was stood for the first time since arriving in the foyer, he was dressed as he typically was with a sheepish grin stretched across his lips. Logan imagined he had worried Patton also and an overwhelming feeling of guilt crawled over him as he averted his gaze to his floor, clutching his bag tighter to his chest which didn’t escape the notice of Patton who had been becoming increasing perceptive these days.

“It is alright Logan, you can take all the time you need to say goodbye,” Patton said throwing him a smile when Logan eventually worked up the courage to meet his eye.

Logan turned to Noah first who was in the process of attempting to sneak away, presumably believing he was interrupting, he caught his eye and smiled as it was the only form of communication he could manage. Noah returned the smile, speaking his goodbyes without words but they reached Logan nonetheless. He believed perhaps in a different time and place, without the burden and memory of their pasts a top their shoulders and the fight for survival, the two of them could have been friends, close friends, able to confide in each other and share common interests but fate hadn’t been kind to either of them. Logan hoped Noah would to find his ‘Patton’. Next he turned to Maggie, the woman who had fought and advocated for him even in the moments when he did not earn or deserve her support, she had been his only ally in this lonely place and every day he was eternally grateful for her company.

“I told you so,” Maggie giggled as she wiped away a few tears, referring to the open day where she had told him to not lose hope, the very day he met Patton and that day had led him to where he was now. “I don’t know what I am going to do without you, reading isn’t going to be nearly as fun but don’t you worry about me, you won’t get a rid of me that easily. You may be entering a new and exciting chapter of your life but just as I told you before, circumstances may change and we may be apart but I will never leave you, Logan,”.

Maggie was crying openly now, Logan too was fighting back tears now and then he did something entirely out of character. He threw himself into Maggie’s arms, squeezing tightly just as he felt hers wind around his slight frame, holding on just as tight. Eventually they broke apart and she pressed a final kiss to his forehead as he left to stand by Patton side.

“You are welcome to come over any time you like, you too kiddo,” Patton said Noah jolting in surprise at his mention then smiling and nodding in response.

“Thank you Patton,” Maggie said dabbing at her wet cheeks. “Goodbye Logan,”.

Logan smiled once again and waved as he left with Patton, leaving between the Orphanage he had spent the last two years of his life, where he had been tortured and tormented for simply being. He was leaving that all behind and beginning a new life. Logan Baxter would become Logan Hart…he only hoped he would live up to the name.

Patton could barely contain his excitement as he drove home, Logan sat in the passenger seat just like he had imagined though not present in his fantasies was Logan’s silence. Noah hadn’t explained what caused Logan to become non-verbal and Patton hadn’t pressed the subject any further, hoping in due time his voice would return to him, instead he attempted to fill the weighty silence with his soft humming along to the radio as he snuck glances at Logan every so often. He was staring out of the window, presumably studying his surroundings as he fidgeted unconsciously with the cube in his hand, nervousness present in his rigid posture and frantic hands.

“Hey Logan, I know this is a massive change for you and I want you to feel comfortable and safe, so I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want to do or talk about and please tell me if I am doing something wrong or making you uncomfortable. Your happiness is my top priority,” Patton said after an elongated silence. He knew breaking down Logan’s walls would be difficult but he was determined and wouldn’t give up so easily. “The kids are all pretty excited to see you again, they want to give you a tour of the house and show you your new room, we can also go shopping for clothes and some things to decorate your room if you like?”.

The conversation continued to flow with Patton firing out different topics and statements while Logan reacted, nodding, shaking his head and even smiling at some points but despite the lengthy car journey Logan’s voice still hadn’t returned which sparked a negative swirl of thoughts. What if he was being to much? Going to fast? What if Logan had changed his mind and he didn’t want to be adopted by him? Patton cut off the dangerous downward spiral of negativity with a few deep breaths, Emile’s advice ringing in his ears and shooting a smile towards Logan who had paused in his observations to eye Patton’s change in demeanour curiously, in an effort to appease him.

“I am so happy you are here Logan ,” Patton said watching as Logan’s pale complexion blushed and Patton outwardly squealed. “Aw kiddo, you are so cute,”.

Logan spluttered and pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away in a mock annoyance as Patton laughed at the display. They would be just fine. As a family, they would support each other through all difficulties which may arise and through times of both light and darkness and come out stronger together. He had faith they would be okay.

 “Well kiddo, we are here,” Patton announced as Logan shrank back, his former apprehension returning. “Come on, you have nothing to worry about, I promise,”.

Logan nodded and collected his belongings, walking cautiously behind Patton as they approached the large house. It was surprisingly big and well-maintained, particularly the front garden; a luscious green lawn, a combination of wild flowers and potted plants skillfully arranged in an explosion of colour and pleasant fragrances, bees buzzing happily from flower to flower. Azaleas, freesias, geraniums, hydrangeas and others of all varieties in full bloom. Logan couldn’t recall the last time he had seen such a breath-taking garden, evident from it’s appearance it was well-loved by it’s carer. Upon entering the house they were met with Roman, Virgil, Declan and a man he did not recognise, waiting in what Logan presumed to be the general living area from the choice in furnishings and the ‘homey’ atmosphere.

“We are back, did you miss us?”Patton said as Declan rushed into his arms and Patton lifting him, balancing the toddler on his hip but the others attention was all turned upon Logan.

“Welcome Logan, Patton has told me all about you. I’m Emile, kind of the honorary uncle,” Emile explained as he extended a hand to Logan which he took out of politeness, Patton had informed him of his rather strange relationship with Emile - who had a rather unnatural hair colour - that he was in fact not related to the family in any way and was actually Patton’s close friend but took the place of the children ‘uncle’ as Patton had no siblings himself. He also explained that Emile was a therapist, a field which Logan found fascinating but struggled himself to comprehend and for an unknown reason he felt somewhat self-conscious in the presence of a therapist who may easily be able to read his expressions and mannerisms. “Do you how do?”.

“Just ignore that,” Virgil said seeming to note Logan confusion in regards to the grammatically incorrect statement. “Long time no see,”. Logan merely nodded in response - as it was all he in the moment could do - which gained him a rather strange look from both Virgil and Roman he could not decipher.

“Well now you are here, let us make haste and begin the grand tour,” Roman proclaimed with a dramatic sweep of the arm. “Come dear brethren, to our first location the living room,”.

“Unfortunately, I will have to miss the tour, I am needed back at work but I was nice meeting you Logan,” Emile said before saying his goodbyes and exiting as the tour commenced.

Beginning in the living room - where they were already stood - Roman began retelling the several stylistic choices with Patton chiming in every so often as Virgil collapsed onto the couch, Declan crawling over to nestle in beside him. The living room was moderately sized, open-planned leading to the dining and kitchen area through an archway, with a staircase leading to the second storey on the left. The walls were a pale blue with a single yellow accent wall which held the majority of the decorations, picture frames and a sizeable shelf holding; various miscellaneous knick-knacks, books and a large framed family portrait. Furniture filled almost all available space, from the enormous couch which sat in the centre of the room, adorned in decorative cushions and the softest looking blankets Logan believed he had ever seen also in a variety of bright colours and interesting patterns, a similarly styled armchair sat adjacent to the couch. Toy and games congregated in a organised clutter in each corner and no space was left unfilled by personal items which only someone as unique as Patton would own. Light flooded into the room through the wide open windows and a pleasant aroma of lavender was emitted from half burned candles laid on the coffee table. 

Moving on, into the kitchen and dining area, the bright theme continued with the walls painted this time a much brighter azure. A sizeable dining table, seating eight, filled the majority of the room with each seat covering colour corresponding to the favourite colour of a family member, a glass vase filled with wild flowers similar to those seen in the garden acted as the centrepiece. To the right, was the gigantic and well-loved kitchen, from the first look it was evidently Patton’s area of the house with a matching soft grey and baby blue appearance. Appliances and baking supplies covered the expanse of counter-space, a variety novelty items such as cooking utensils and cutlery were proudly displayed and a overwhelming amount of cookery and baking themed puns were littered throughout the kitchen and Patton’s consistent giggling only grew louder. To the left, held a bathroom and utility room, both of which Roman purposefully skipped instead excitably rushing upstairs to where the bedrooms were situated.

“My room first!” Roman announced bounding down the hallways passing several other doorways, pausing in front of the one decorated in several brightly coloured stickers referencing things Logan did not recognise.

Roman’s room was much like Roman himself. Dramatic. With crimson walls, accented with white and gold, decorated in a variety of signed posters, artwork and other theatrical adornments, a queen size canopy bed sat against one wall with a similar red and gold coloured bed-spread patterned with tiny crowns fitting with the ‘princely’ theme, a stuffed dragon toy sat proudly at the head. Opposite from the bed was a desk which previously may have been white but years of paint spills and bored doodles had permanently stained it, drawing utensils and half-finished drawings were strewn across the workspace in a haphazard mess which Logan desperately desired to organise. One wall contained a wardrobe overflowing with clothes, costumes and other miscellaneous items Roman presumably felt some sort of attachment to, mindless mess; purposeless knick-knack and aesthetic pieces were scattered across all available surfaces. The room had an overall sense of organised chaos, nothing at all like Logan’s old room with its pristine walls and no personal touch or flair as Roman’s had, personalised to fit Roman’s identity flawlessly.

Secondly, Virgil and Declan’s shared room, slightly smaller than Roman’s room but still moderately sized. Each brother’s section easily identified by the choices in colour and style. Virgil’s segment of the room was considerably darker than Declan’s with deep purple walls plastered with posters unlike Roman’s, handwritten notes pinned up and string lights hanging above his bed as a secondary light source, his bedspread was of a similar colour with a grey stuff donkey and a skeleton doll tucked beneath the sheets and a soft grey weighted blanket sat, folded on the edge of his bed which Logan believed was commonly used to reduce anxiety and stress in order to improve sleep. Virgil’s room also included a desk, though far neater than Roman’s still contained a considerably number of stationary spread across it, at the back portion of the desk sat a collection of journals varying in size and colour, stacked orderly via these characteristics creating a satisfying gradient affect. Adjacent to the desk was a bookcase which Logan took particular interest in, it contain numerous titles and authors he himself was familiar with specifically those focusing around gothic fiction but there was also a considerably number of modern poetry books which took him by surprise. Virgil had fewer belongings than Roman though a far greater number than himself, a guitar had been balanced against his night-stand which held a pair of purple headphones, a locked notebook and a miniature book of poems. The room was less visually distracting as Roman but just as stimulating as Logan studied his surrounding, theorising from Virgil’s withdrawn disposition he spent a great majority of his time spent in his room where he could freely express himself.

Declan’s section of the room was arguably smaller than Virgil which was understandable given the age difference and their difference in needs. The bed was smaller with barriers on each side presumably for protection purposes, the blanket was a intense sunshine yellow and perhaps the softest blanket Logan had ever witnessed in his life, it was also filled with stuffed toys, the largest being a yellow and green striped snake which engulfed much of the bed along with a variety of others. A lime green beanbag chair sat in the back corner of the room which similarly held more soft toys and on the left of the bed stood an appropriately sized cabinet, holding games, books and yet again more toys. This section provided a sharp contrast in colours given the harshness of Virgil’s area but also contributed a cheerful brightness to the otherwise dark room.

Separated from the other bedrooms was Patton’s, it was simple, modest but filled with memories, picture frames adorned every baby blue wall and surface, containing moments of importance immortalised in frozen images. Award and certificates, photo albums stacked high, set proudly on display. His own large bed was covered in a plain grey bedspread and a solitary stuffed dog sat the head. Despite its simplicity Logan felt largely at ease in Patton’s room as it held the same soothing air as Patton did as if Patton’s spirit had been built into the foundation of the house, his personality stretched throughout the many rooms, filling each of them with the same sense of comfort which Logan had grown to need.

“Now lastly, welcome to your room Logan,” Patton announced as he open the final door just across from Virgil and Declan’s, to the right of Roman’s.

The room was large, far larger than Logan had expected and already painted and  furnished with deep navy blue walls and a bed pressed again one wall, dressed in a tartan bedspread of varying shades of blue and sat in the centre was a simple stuff bear. On the opposite wall a dark wood desk which provided plenty of workspace for studying, on each side was a similarly coloured bookcase, stretching high to the ceiling, half filled with books, titles some of which he had read others of which he recognised and remembered seeing in the book-store Patton had taken him to some while ago now though still granted him enough shelf space. The room as contained an empty wardrobe waiting to be filled, a bedside table barren expect for a solitary reading lamp. Logan glanced around the room…his room with amazement and a hint of fear. All of this was his, he could hardly believe it, how much this must of cost to organise for his coming? It was far to much. He wished he had his voice to tell Patton so, he would be content with an undecorated closet, spacious enough for a simple bed and desk for it was all he required but as the thought of the cramped and narrow closet entered his mind his throat tightened further.

“It is pretty bare at the moment but over the weekend we can go shopping, you can choose some decorations and buy you some more clothes,” Patton said with a smile but Logan struggled to return it. Patton would be spending more money on him, he had done far more for Logan than anyone else had, simply being allowed into his home and accepted in his family dynamic was enough. “Well, that is the tour finished and I am starving so how about I make dinner a little earlier tonight?”. The answer was a excited exclamation from Roman, Virgil and Declan.

“Excellent, Logan do you like spaghetti bolognese?” Patton asked and to be honest Logan did not know, the meals at the orphanage rarely changed and while living with his parents he was kept on a strict diet but in order to not displease Patton he nodded.

With that Logan then found himself directed back downstairs and into the dining area, taking a seat beside Virgil who was scrolling through his cellular device, while Patton worked in the kitchen to prepare their meal. Roman who had sat diagonally to Logan, vibrated excitedly in his seat, Declan who sat adjacent to both Roman and Virgil balanced on his knees mimicking Roman’s excitement. Not long later, Patton had completed the preparations and set his plate of food down in front of him. Logan allowed the delicious smell to fill his nostrils as every one else dug in before doing so himself, pasta was always a difficult food for him to eat as it was nearly impossible for him to separate it into matching halves so he kept to his ingrained rule of only eating half of whatever he was provided but he made an effort and when he did he struggled to stop. He couldn’t recall a time when he had ingested something so delicious.

“So Logan, I have a very important question for you. What is your favourite Disney movie?” Roman asked pausing in his consumption to the phrase the serious sounding question. “You do know what Disney is, right?. Presumably gauging Logan’s confusion from his blank expression, another shake of the head gave him his answer.

“You don’t know what Disney is!” Virgil exclaimed appearing to be in a state of shock at his admission which only added to Logan’s level of perplexity.

“God, you are so uncultured,” Roman sighed his gaze returned to his meal until his eyes once again lit up. “Hey padre, can we have a movie night, we can show specs here all of our favourite movies?”.

“I don’t see why not, lets do it,” Patton said with a grin and Roman and Virgil both hurried to finish their meals before leaving the table in order to begin their preparations for the ‘movie night’ as Roman referred to it. “Don’t worry Logan, they just get a little excited. Are you finished?”.

Logan nodded, pushing away his plate with approximately half of the pasta left on his plate, Patton eyed it with a strange look before sighing and removing it with his own, in order to clean them. How stupid. Logan should be washing dishes, not allowing Patton to do it for him. He stood abruptly and made his way over to the sink where Patton was stood, to take over the job of cleaning them.

“Don’t worry about this kiddo, you go and sit and we will get started soon,” Patton said directing him to the living room while he continued cleaning.

Only a short while later, after all preparations had been made; suitable treats and refreshments provided, soft blankets tossed across their laps and films had been selected, one per sibling and a fourth chosen by Patton that he believed Logan would appreciate. They began with Roman’s pick, one of the earlier Disney films, named Sleeping Beauty which told the story of a Princess who was sent away to live in the woods with some supernatural beings and then returned sixteen years later, only to become cursed and fall into a deep sleep so a prince could come and save her. Thought the premise was rather outdated and somewhat offensive the animation style was appealing and the musical numbers enjoyable, it became evident to Logan why it was Roman’s favourite relatively quickly as he jumped up to perform every song as Virgil berated him, throwing pieces of popcorn at him. Virgil choice was The Nightmare before Christmas though it was not near any of those holidays, the plot was rather strange with some rather frightening Halloween creatures attempting to ‘steal’ Christmas by kidnapping the fabled Santa Claus and in the middle Virgil and Roman broke into a debate regarding whether or not the film should be classified as a Halloween or a Christmas film. Though Declan’s choice may have been the strangest of all, The Jungle Book in which animals could talk and a jaguar tasked himself with returning the main character to the ‘man village’ as he was being hunted by a tiger, though Logan believed Declan may have only like the film because of the inclusion of a snake as a character despite the character in question being a villain who did make an attempt on the main characters life. The final film chosen by Patton particularly for Logan, piqued his interest. Big Hero Six, in which Hiro an incredibly intelligent child with an aptitude for robotics loses his older brother in a fire and with the help of his brother’s invention a healthcare robot named Baymax and his friends forms a superhero team in order to discover what happened to his brother, initially seeking revenge but later finds forgiveness and by the end everyone bar him was crying at the ‘death’ of Baymax. Though the bitter-sweet ending was lost to Logan he appreciated the heavy inclusion of science and robotics and by the end he found himself enjoying the film.

Following the movie night, Roman and Virgil retired to their rooms and Logan collected a book from his rucksack before returning to the living room and sat beside Patton who held a drowsy Declan in his lap, gently running his fingers through his curls as Logan observed him.

“Are you okay Logan?” Patton asked a hated question of his as he rarely understood his own feelings. “You have been quiet all day,”. Logan pressed two fingers against his throat, communicating that his voice still hadn’t returned despite all his efforts but he still could scarcely make a sound.

“It is okay, this is a massive change and you are adapting to a new environment which will take time but please I want you to tell me if…” Patton was cut off.

“Dad!” Virgil called from upstairs. “Roman is being an idiot,”.

“Am not, you are the stupid one!” Roman shot back. The noise seemed to startled Declan to let out an ear-piercing cry as Logan slapped his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the incessant crying. Patton leapt up, immediately cradled Declan to his chest, rocking him back and forth and murmuring soothing words of comfort in an effort to calm him but to no avail. The cries only increased in volume as did the anger-fuelled bickering upstairs, the painful noise scraping against the inside of his head.

Patton seemed to note Logan’s growing distress at the influx of noise and he called upstairs as he continued to try and quiet Declan but his efforts were unsuccessful in solving the disagreement between Roman and Virgil and their argument only grew louder as they spat degrading nicknames at each other. This pattern continued for another few minutes until Logan recognised the signs of growing panic in Patton manner and expression as he found himself unable to settle the distress of Declan or the conflict between Roman and Virgil, the sight unsettled Logan it seemed unnatural for Patton’s typically happy disposition to be maimed by anxiety. So Logan did something entirely unlike him, he stood up, removed his hand from his ears despite his own spike in anxiety at the increased noise level and held out in arms.

“Oh, thank you so much, kiddo,” Patton said grateful, once he realised what Logan meant by the action and gently lowered the still screaming and squirming child into his arms before hurrying upstairs. Logan sat down with a wriggling Declan in his lap. Now what does he do now?

 “Now, I want you both to apologise to each other,” Patton said somewhat sternly to Roman and Virgil who shared the same shame filled look. Their argument had been resolved quickly through both of them sharing their sides and opinions while the other listened and by the end both understood the other feelings.

“Sorry,” Virgil grumbled sinking further into his hoodie.

“I must also apologise for my words,” Roman and extended a hand out towards Virgil. “Truce,”.

“Truce,” Virgil repeated taking his hand, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Yay, now I need to go and save Logan from D…” Patton paused he didn’t hear screaming and crying any more, which was unusual. If Dee was having one of his meltdowns it typically took up to half an hour to calm him down. What if something had happened?

“Logan!” Patton called out as he hurried downstairs, followed by Roman and Virgil but his worries were dispelled instantly as he heard Logan’s soft voice reading to Declan as he sat nicely in his lap, babbling along to Logan’s words.

Patton’s heart swelled with pride as he, Roman and Virgil moved silently to sit and listen to Logan’s telling of A Study in Scarlet, the very book he had explained to Patton the day they met. Logan’s voice was low and calm a little shaky in some areas from lack of use but it worked in settling Dee from his outburst in a matter of minutes. He was incredible, quiet and conscientious, so mature for his age though Patton knew that was the result of years of abuse and it would take time for Logan to fully open up to him but he was determined and willing. After all Logan was a member of his famILY now.              

Once Declan began to drift in and out consciousness in Logan’s lap he stopped, closed his book and then only noticed Patton, Roman and Virgil’s presence, intently listening to him as he read aloud. It felt natural as reading and immersing himself into a new world through the words written on a page was a way in which often calmed himself after his own moments of infrequent upset, to begin reading to the wailing child and it worked, he quieten almost immediately and at one point attempted to read along though most came out as indecipherable nonsense. He felt his face heat up at the attention he was receiving and unconsciously curled in on himself in the hope they would move their focus elsewhere.

“I think it is someone’s bedtime,” Patton said taking the limp toddler from Logan’s lap. “Say goodnight, DeeDee,”.

“Night-night, Lo-Lo,” Declan mumbled waving his gloved hand in Logan’s direction.

“Goodnight,” Logan said unsure of what else to say. Once Declan had been put to sleep, Roman and Virgil departed shortly after, retiring to their own bedrooms, leaving only himself and Patton left in the swiftly darkening living room, illuminated by lamp light.

“Thank you Logan, for helping with Dee,” Patton said with a warm smile.

“It was a simple task, I have done nothing to deserve your thanks,” Logan admitted glancing down at the book in his lap, only realising now it was the very book he had been reading and explained to Patton the first time they met which felt so long ago now.

“No Logan, you did something for me, no matter how small a thing it may have been, you still did it though it made you uncomfortable. So, thank you,” Patton explained decreasing the proximity between them. “How are you feeling?”.

“I am a little…overwhelmed though I suppose it is to be expected going through such a significant change but…” Logan paused unsure of whether or not to continue but with a encouraging prompt from Pattopn he did. “You are not the first potential guardian to…show interest in me. It was at my previous orphanage, I had been there for a year at this point and a young couple began to visit me. They were both pleasant and kind-hearted people, they came to see me weekly and as the orphanage policy, organised a week long transitionary period where I would live with them in order to see if I was the correct fit for their household. It was my fault they changed, I became difficult, a burden on them, I was not the same child they had met at the orphanage and I was treated as such. When the week was finished and I returned to the orphanage they promised they would come back to see me the next week but I never saw them again, I do not blame them for their actions, they were deserved but that experience I believe has somewhat affected my own behaviour and I merely wish to apologise for it in advance,”.

Patton was silent and for a moment Logan believed he may be regretting his decision to adopt him and bring him into his family with his new insight into Logan’ past and behaviours and was planning to return him to the orphanage the following morning. Thankfully, he hadn’t yet unpacked his belongings in preparation for this moment. But instead of the anger he expected to follow at this admission, tears appeared in Patton’s eyes.

“Logan, kiddo, no,” Patton whimpered a sound which made Logan’s heart seize up. “You aren’t my possession or something to be returned at my choosing, you are my son and it my job as your dad to love and protect you no matter the circumstances or how difficult it may be. Those people…they should have done the same, attempted to understand your behaviour instead of punishing you for it. I promise you, I will love you and care for you like a dad is supposed to, that is my promise to you,”.

“Okay,” Logan whispered unsure of what else to say, there was a swirl of emotions within his head and chest, none of which he understood. His eyes stung with unshed tears and he scrubbed at them in the hope they would vanish but to no avail, one rolled down his cheek.

“Can I hug you kiddo?” Patton asked arms already outstretched when Logan nodded, needing the warmth and comfort of Patton’s arms as they enveloped him in a sense of security and he never wanted to leave them.

They sat curled up together, Logan burrowed within Patton’s arms until he felt himself growing weary, a yawn breaking from his lips as Patton suggested with a tired giggle he go to bed. Now in the bedroom. No, his bedroom. He undressed, replacing his day clothes with his pyjamas and prepared to go to sleep but the bear tucked beneath the covers caught his attention. Logan took it from it’s position against the pillows, tracing his fingertips across the soft grey fur. How strange that Patton’s same comforting nature was imbued into this lifeless toy. He had never owned a toy before, his biological parents thought them frivolous and a distraction from his studies and the Orphanage’s were to be shared amongst all of the children but he never saw the appeal of them until now. Logan hugged the simple bear tight against his chest, using it’s paw the wipe the wetness from his cheeks and he fell quickly to sleep, underneath his new sheets, in his new bed, in his new room, in his new home and new family.

Logan slept peacefully for the first night in years.

Notes: Noah is a new and completely unintentional OC which I have fallen in love with, so if anyone would like some headcanons for him please let me know.

Also, the Hart house is somewhat modeled after my own house.

And lastly, I am in need of information of how American middle schools work as I am from Scotland and I have no idea. Thanks.

Tag list: @poems-art-darkness-n-more @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @alex-cain @tacochippy @mason-does-a-thing @darkrainbow333 @amber1594 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @callboxkat @anxiousangel121 @comicsimpson @harrypotternerdprincess @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8 @coloursintheblur @read-write-inspire-repeat @clinicalawesomeness @deceit-sanders-deserved-better @scared-ghosthunter

If you would like to be added to the tag list, have a question about the series and it’s characters or you simply want to say hi, please do not hesitate to send me an ask or a message.

[digitalhovel]

A review of “Juno Steel,” a hilarious and emotionally-driven queer space opera

           I recently began work as a DoorDash driver, and you know what that means: living in fear because you have to constantly expose yourself to shitheads who aren’t wearing masks? Yes. And also, lots of time in the car with nothing to do but listen to stuff. Which means I decided to go back and binge the first two seasons of one of my favorite podcasts, The Penumbra Podcast’s “Juno Steel” series. “Juno Steel” is an enjoyable, enthralling story about home, mental illness, and what it means to be good.

           The Penumbra Podcast, created by Sophie Takagi Kaner and Kevin Vibert, is an anthology series that focuses on telling interesting stories while representing marginalized sexual, romantic, and gender identities. It began with a Twilight Zone-esque series of narratives, each with a different setting and characters, but they now run two main storylines: “The Second Citadel” (a fantasy setting examining prejudice and relationships) and “Juno Steel” (a dystopian space noir set in Hyperion City, Mars). The Penumbra Podcast is one of the first podcasts I ever listened to, and it’s still going strong.

           The following contains spoilers for “Juno Steel” season one. If you want to give them a listen, try the remake of “Juno Steel and the Murderous Mask.” Episodes are 30-60 minutes, but the commitment is well worth it in the end.

The characterization in “Juno Steel” is one of the series’ strongest points. Juno Steel is a classic noir detective: determined, depressed, and damn stubborn. The first season of Juno Steel follows him as he uncovers a plot to harvest ancient Martian tech in order to kill the citizens of Hyperion City. Along the way, he develops a complicated relationship with a thief, Peter Nureyev, and their lives become inextricably linked. Juno is an ex-cop and struggles with several issues: trusting someone whose expertise is being untrustworthy, and also trusting literally anyone else. (Note: there is a brief, problematic moment between Juno Steel and a woman PI named Alessandra. I’ll explain at the bottom if you want a warning before listening.)

          Juno Steel is blunt and focused on good, on solving the problem, on doing his best even if it kills him. He struggles to take into consideration the wants and cares of others, and he often jeopardizes his relationships by jumping to conclusions and acting before thinking. Peter Nureyev is suave, collected, and always has a plan. Their dynamic is incredibly fun to listen to because

1.      The acting by Joshua Ilon (Juno) and Noah Simes (Nureyev), is incredible (as is the work of everyone in the cast), and the writing carries their chemistry incredibly well

2.      They are forced into situations where each must give up their expertise and authority to help the other

This challenges their pre-conceived notions of the world, and it gives their characters places to develop and grow throughout the season. It also provides rife opportunities for comedy. Juno is sardonic and blunt, and Nureyev is witty and concise. Every character has a distinct voice, a distinct sense of excitement, and a distinct humor that makes each episode worth listening to as the creators tackle various tropes in the genre and spin an exciting mystery. While Juno often has a low speaking tempo, his secretary Rita gives monologues in seconds. These small moments of contrast build a broad and unique cast that make every interaction dramatic, and often hilarious. These character beats continue to influence the characters in season two, as Juno has to begin grappling with his own senses of responsibility, his past, and his guilt as he continues trying to do good in the world.

          This idea of ‘good’ pervades the message of both seasons of Juno Steel. The Juno of season one is obsessed with self-sacrifice and self-destruction. The creators have never been shy about Juno having mental illness, namely, depression. In his case, he lashes out at people who disagree with him and can’t see consequences of actions that aren’t his. Somehow, it’s always his fault. But the rest of the characters disagree with that philosophy. The Penumbra Pod presents a great deal of viewpoints on coping with feelings of grief, responsibility and guilt, from self-destruction to bottling it up and moving on to just trying to live every day to forget about the one before. No one is right, but the diversity of opinions provokes genuine thought in the listener. The show deals with heavy themes but the characters are grounded and deal with their grief, guilt, and fear in realistic and dynamic ways, letting the audience learn alongside Juno as his perspective slowly opens up.

          The following contain serious spoilers for “Juno Steel,” season two.

          It’s a testament to the writing that Juno learns from these lessons. In season two, he’s less self-destructive, but still driven to making the world a better place, fueled by his guilt and his past. Season two of Juno Steel features and more nuanced villain, Ramses O’Flaherty (heavily influenced by Walt Disney). Ramses wants to create a good world, plain and simple. The issue is, he thinks his version of good is universal, and he has the power and resources to try to enforce it with impunity. It’s a tense narrative that forces Juno to examine his own motivations for doing his job and perspectives regarding the place he calls home. He struggles between idealism and defeatism, even deciding whether violence is needed or useful in his line of work. But again, the core message of the series is simple: we can never make those changes alone. Only by working willingly with others and listening to them can Juno begin to decide what he considers to be good. While the political situation of “Juno Steel” season two doesn’t mimic our own (I wish our public leaders had only good intentions [they don’t]), it is an inspirational story about the value of trying to grow as a person and begin accepting help from others and trusting them when it’s needed. Because goodness is based in how we affect the world and the people around us. These days, found family can be more real than blood relations, and solidarity is the greatest path towards building a better world.

          In short, The Penumbra Podcast is great. They’re telling interesting, unique, entertaining, queer, gender-diverse stories through personal and diverse lenses, and they’re doing a great job of it. “Juno Steel” has been influential in my life, both as validation for my emotional and psychological experiences, and my changing perspective as I try to learn about myself and do better all the time. Because Juno isn’t perfect. He makes mistakes; we all do. But we get to watch him learn, and in the process, maybe learn something about ourselves.

          If you do listen to them and enjoy it, here’s a link to their website, where they host episodes (you can also find them on most podcast-listening mediums), and their Patreon.

*The creators of The Penumbra Podcast have addressed this, but in “Juno Steel and the Prince of Mars, part 1,” Juno non-consensually kisses Alessandra Strong. The writers have said they wish they hadn’t done it or could redo it because it’s a problematic noir trope, and they wrote it in to confirm that Juno is canonically bisexual. The incident does not come up again, and in future discussions, Juno and Alessandra have a relatively healthy working relationship. Some other concerns have been raised with their presentation of other relations on TPP, and the creators have acknowledged that they are also growing and trying to do the best to present their stories in a positive way, but they also can’t be made into pillars of the queer community. They have individual perspectives and are trying to reflect that. I, for one, believe them, and I hope you’ll still give their podcast a try.

[ms31x129]

Chimera by monikafilefan and  cultureisdarkbeer

Summary: 

Who is Jackson Van de Kamp?

A simple letter containing words powerful enough to transform and free him from pain and uncertainty of his past is found. Events from Jackson’s childhood and present day life play out post series as a catalyst sparked by his birth mother fuels a new purpose for his future.

Let’s revisit! Woohoo! Click on the Chapter Title to read at AO3! @monikafilefan @cultureisdarkbeer

Courage to Jump - Chapter 1 or read below if you prefer! :)

“Memories are contrary things; if you quit chasing them and turn your back, they often return on their own. -Stephen King

April 19, 2019

The wood creaked under Jackson’s boots as he made his way through the old, dust laden attic. He peeked out the dirty window and watched the for sale sign sway in the breeze. It instantly struck a nerve that stirred his rising ardor. The last time he could recall stepping foot up here was with his dad as they stored the freshly emptied moving boxes and old family memories along the wall nearly six years ago.

The dim, musty smelling room was a drastic contrast to the rest of the house where he had lived out his remaining adolescence. Being forced to move across the country for “the very best doctors” wasn’t the fondest of memories. He was drawn back here, seeking out tangible pieces of his past and yearning to hold them within grasp instead of envisioning them like everything else in his life. With his parents gone and buried, once the shadows had vacated, he needed to search his home for a remembrance of happier times.

He had faked his own death out on that pier so many months ago as a sacrifice to save the man he inexplicably trusted. Anger, frustration, and depression over his actions and parents’ death had left him with little choice but to change into Fox Mulder and take a bullet in the brain from the bastard that had ruined him in more ways than one. He wanted to protect the ones he had left who loved him, even though he failed to do so with those who raised him.

As he hid in darkness, witnessing his birth mother and possible birth father panicking on the pier, hearing and feeling her intense emotions thrumming through his body as he recovered on the side of the river, was like a slap in the face. He was angry at the unfairness of it all. His creation, his childhood, his messed up abilities, his life, his future… was all fucked up. In that moment he realized whatever was left of the old Jackson had died as a new him broke free from the cold abyss. What emerged was a stranger immersed within himself. A stranger with a new feeling welling within his chest, one he felt churning deep inside the fierce woman with tears in her eyes, embracing Mulder across the water: a feeling of hope.

Hope was what brought him back. And hope was what he could still feel tickling along the surface of his mind, calling out to him with that soft familiar voice.

Refocusing on his task, he sifted through the cobweb covered boxes, and discovered an old, mildewed grey and blue diaper bag buried deep in the bottom of one that was marked simply as “W.” Knowing what he does now about his past and his birth mother who named him, he realized that the box must’ve pertained to him—William.

Stale baby clothes covered in animals from Noah’s Ark and, ironically, a onesie with a spaceship on the front were folded with his mom’s usual precision, resting on top of the bag. The stiff “bag” now cracking with age laid ominously across his lap as he thought hard about actually looking inside.

For years, Jackson had been searching for the truth about who and what he really was; feeling like an outcast, a freak of nature that had been poked and prodded more times by the age of fifteen than most people get in a lifetime. Yet now, a missing piece of his puzzle sat right in front of him, no doubt riddled with secrets of his past life that no amount of computer hacking could show him, and he was nervous as hell. His hands shook just thinking about it.

He could turn into a snarling monster at will and explode the heads of his enemies, yet he struggled with unzipping a diaper bag. He scoffed and then heard his dad’s encouraging words replay in his mind.

“Dad, I’m scared; I can’t do it, don’t make me do it,” Jackson begged, squeezing his dad’s hand as he stared wide-eyed into the deep end of the swimming pool.

“Hey, it’s okay buddy. I won’t make you jump in.” He patted his floaty wrapped tightly around his arm. “But sometimes, Jackson, there are no words to help one’s courage. Sometimes you just have to jump.”

At that, Jackson gripped the zipper and swiftly pulled it open. Rolled up inside was a cream, soft, worn-in baby blanket that he instantly rubbed between his fingers. As he pulled it out to see what else was inside, a puff of air wafted a familiar smell directly up his nose.

And it was then that it happened: His brain shifted into overdrive. Synapses firing at a rapid rate, burning through the memory center of his mind. This stung differently than his visions of the possible future. This was real.

January 9, 2002

His eyes were closed, heavy. A gentle hand patted his back and his head lolled along a small shoulder as they rocked back and forth. The softness of a blanket was tucked under his little body and a soothing voice that he’s heard so many times in his mind before began singing him to sleep.

“William was a bullfrog, he was a good friend of mine. I never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drink his wine. Joy to the world… all the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me…” She kissed the crown of his head and whispered along his hair, “Sweet dreams, baby boy. Daddy sends his love.”

With a frantic shake of his head, Jackson blinked and found himself staring at that same blanket he felt tickle along his skin as a baby. Jesus, he thought. This was actually his and that… that was his mother .

He ran a hand through his thick hair and then searched through the rest of the things that were sent with him. A silicon pacifier, yellowed with age; a teething ring; a bib that said, “Tough Like Mom;” a small stuffed fox with big, bright green eyes; and an envelope tucked tightly into a pocket with the name William scrawled across it.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, his gut churning. Jackson knew exactly what this was. And if it turned out to be anything like what he heard cried out to him in the morgue, he didn’t know if he could handle reading it.

Minutes passed after he opened the envelope. He sat slumped on the hardwood floor, toying with an almost eighteen year old letter written from a mother for a son she thought she’d never see again. As his fingers danced over the words, the visions came—hard and fast of a trinity of love, the destiny and the truth of his essence and existence before powers intervened.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 39

Thank you everyone for your patience as I dealt with computer issues this week!  I was able to get the chapter done with minimal delay, and I hope you all enjoy it.  Fair warning: it has not been run by @parisconstantine, so all faults are my own.

Please give a warm round of applause and welcome to @books-and-cartoons original character, Grandma Kim.  I really hope I did her justice, and I really hope you tell me off if I didn’t give her a fair shake!

A few days after forwarding the group of approved candidates to the rest of the Council, I found myself pacing my quarters while my stomach clenched painfully. I had been trying to calm my nerves for nearly an hour, but to no avail. Even worse, for the first time since I left the medical bay, I was completely alone with my thoughts, which swirled and screamed at me with increasing urgency as time ticked by.  I was frightened, angry, betrayed, and anxious in turns.  My hair was a mess from running my hands through it, although I had resisted the urge to tug on it – if only out of worry that I would collapse into a sobbing, drooling heap on the floor.

I had finally given in to my family’s insistence and was waiting for Grandma Kim to arrive.

Conor was on shift, still working to get the platforms completed in BioLab 2 after the delays caused by losing some of the people assigned to the project. I had begged my sister to wait with me, but she put her small foot down with enormous resolve. “I know you are nervous, and that’s expected,” she had sighed. “But, Sophia, I’m exhausted.  I’ve been doing my job and the job of your assistant for months now, plus not being able to sleep without knowing you’re okay.  I need to just – not exist for a few days.  Go to my quarters, keep the lights off, and just let everything that’s going to happen, happen. Your quarters are recorded within an inch of your life and mine: video, audio, and doppler recordings are constantly running. Noah is going to be nearby so they can respond at a moment’s notice if needed, but this is Grandma Kim we’re talking about. There isn’t any safer place to be on this ship, honestly.  I promise that you won’t die, but if I don’t get a break, I might kill you myself.”

Conor had been horrified at her bluntness, but I quickly explained to him that my sister knew I needed a kick in the pants if I was going to get back to something resembling normal, and only meant it with love. Despite so much time around us, he was still adjusting to the way we were so open with our feelings while not hesitating to define our limits with each other.  And, to my utter horror, she was right – she had every reason to be exhausted, and I admired the fact that she knew not to work herself into collapse like I so often found myself doing.

So, in the end, I had agreed that at least meeting with Grandma Kim was best for everyone involved.  It would take a load off of my sister, give Conor a break from being my personal bodyguard, and give me someone to lean on who I wouldn’t feel guilty about needing. After all, helping people through trauma was apparently her job.  

Nonetheless, when the chime sounded to announce that someone was waiting to enter my living space, I nearly shot out of my skin and through the bulkhead above me. Two deep breaths and a lot of shaking later, I signaled for the door to allow her in.  I don’t know what I had been expecting, but the visage that greeted me could only be described as “As Advertised”. Long hair streaked in dark and light grey tied in a practical plait, medium height, just too young to be ‘elderly’ even though I knew she was at least seventy years old. Ramrod posture, gentle smile, and the biggest German Shepherd I had ever seen in my life sitting patiently at her side. “You must be Grandma Kim,” I stated dumbly, trying to sound more confident and in control than I felt.

“Hello, dear,” she tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “And this is Lyric. May we come in?”

Flustered, I stepped to the side. “Right. Yes. Please come in.  Would you like me to show you around?”

She hummed softly before gently rebuking Lyric. “Yes, your friend Mac lives here. But you still have to be alert.  Be a good girl and keep your ears up, but don’t bother the grown ups while we talk, okay? Keep it down.”  With that, the admonished pup padded over and nosed Mac, receiving a disdainful look before being allowed to start wrestling quietly.  “That’s a good girl.”  Glancing up, Grandma Kim shook her head with a small smirk.  “Those two are thick as thieves, just a knot of trouble sometimes. But Lyric knows to behave at a guest’s house, so she’ll mind her manners.  And don’t worry about showing me around, Miss Reid. Why don’t you sit down so you’ll be more comfortable, and I’ll get us something to drink and snack on while we talk.” Without waiting for a response, she glided into my kitchen area.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on my couch and tucked my legs beneath me. No wonder everyone just calls her ‘grandma’, I mused. I just got told what to do by an old lady in my own home. Grandmother powers, indeed.

“This is a lovely kitchen,” she called as she moved around. “Do you cook?”

“Yes ma’am,” I answered, grabbing my blanket and wrapping it around me as a sort of armour.

“I would love to see you cook sometime.” Gods, I could literally hear her smiling. “I always found cooking to be quite relaxing.” She came back into my public area with two mugs and a tray of small pastries.

As she handed me one mug, a scent filled my nose and set my mouth watering. “I’m not allowed caffeine yet,” I apologized wistfully, not yet setting the beverage down.

She tutted! She actually tutted! “Yes, I know. Anxiety and all that. But, excuse me for being blunt, you look like you’re exhausted, and your file lists your favorite beverages as all being coffee-based. A nice warm mug of sweet coffee with plenty of milk will do you right, I think.” She threw me a wink. “Besides, professional nurturers are allowed to override medical restrictions to a small degree.  One cup of coffee definitely will do you more psychological good than it will do you physical harm.”

Needing no other encouragement, I took a long sip of heaven and sighed.  Grandma Kim chuckled slightly before taking a sip of her own and setting it to the side. “Now that we have that out of the way, I know you want to ask me some questions.  Let me go ahead and take the liberty of answering the usual ones right out of the gate.  I know you’re more familiar with what I do than most people are, seeing as your sister and Antoine are partners.  He specializes – or specialized – in providing physical non-sexual comfort and basic care.  Making sure people with deep depression don’t cause themselves harm through direct action or neglect, cuddling, that sort of thing.”

“You say ‘specialized’, past tense,” I stated slowly. “He wasn’t fired for his relationship with my sister, was he?”

“Oh, dear no!” she laughed. “On the contrary.  He recused himself, feeling it would be wrong to continue his duties due to their relationship.  Something about donuts. In any case, he is currently overseeing our policies and general practices, while guiding assignments to ensure better quality of compatibility than simple chance.” I blew a breath of relief as she continued. “My specialty is quite different from his.  I don’t cuddle, really, for starters.  What I provide, instead, is a different kind of comfort.  The comfort of knowing you are safe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the comfort of reassurance.  Also, if one of my clients has an episode of hallucination or paranoia and attacks me by mistake, I can both defend myself without harming them and also restrain them if necessary.  It happens rarely,” she held up her hand to fend of my objection, “but it has been known to happen, and I have had several people concerned they will hurt me. You will not, I promise. Before everything went ass over teakettle, I had combat training for unarmed, close quarters, and long-distance weapons.  Very few people on the Ark can land a strike on me once, and none can do it twice.”

I sucked a breath between my teeth.  That was unexpected.

She continued. “Now, I clearly did not learn all that for the fun of it, or for peaceful reasons.  However, I find it a shame that so many people in the After and on this ship live what they call lives unable to shake the idea that someone will hurt them.  Even more shameful is that they all have good reason for that.  I can’t let it continue.  If I, a very harmless looking little old lady can take care of them and give them the reassurance that they are safe?  Well, I feel I would be a horrible person if I didn’t do exactly that.” She took a sip of her coffee as nonchalantly as if she were discussing the weather. “You, however, are a little more unique than that, aren’t you, Sophia Reid?”

“Yes ma’am,” I muttered, glancing down at my own half-gone beverage.

“None of that,” she chided gently. “Grandma Kim or GK will do fine. But as I was saying, you had an attempt on your life made by someone very close to you, and I can imagine that you are hesitant to let anyone else be close enough to hurt you like that.  I don’t blame you, frankly.  What happened to you was an evil thing, done by someone who thought herself a hero. And now, you have the weight of being a figurehead jammed on your shoulders, whether you want it or not, while trying to shore up your own foundations at the same time.”  I nodded as she blew a breath threw her nose. “Well, that won’t do, will it?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” I answered ruefully.

“Of course you do.”

“How do you figure that?” My head tilted to one side, puzzled.

“Well, for starters, I think you need help setting boundaries with the people around you,” she stated firmly. “And I can help you with that.  Not in the way your sister or an assistant can, by managing your schedule, but by reminding you to rest, to take time for yourself. Right now, you may be too afraid of your own mind to do that, but with me and Lyric here to keep you company? Two people who you don’t have to help, and who you aren’t being a burden to by needing us? That alone usually removes a huge weight from people. You have a history of forgetting to feed yourself if you have no one else to feed.  But you also find it distinctly rude to decline food that is prepared for you.” She gestured at the half gone plate of spanakopita. When did I eat that? I must have, to know what it was. She never told me, and it wasn’t something you would serve with coffee.

“Antoine told me it’s one of your favorites,” she explained. “He also wanted me to get you to eat, even if you decided against allowing me to assist you. But I do ask that you consider things. You don’t need to give a response now, since I’m certain this has been exhausting for you.  Go to bed, take a nap, and think about it after you’ve had some rest.  My feelings will not be hurt, either way, but I do think that you would benefit from having a companion, even for a brief time while you adjust to everything.”

I nodded dumbly.  She definitely was right about being exhausted, but a nap seemed like an impossibility at the moment.  “I – I don’t know if I can sleep,” I admitted through clenched teeth, forcing myself to say the words.  “I haven’t been able to sleep by myself since – since I got home….”

“How do you usually sleep?” she asked.

“Conor sleeps next to me,” I admitted. “I don’t like taking medicine to sleep, and I know he won’t let anyone hurt me.  It’s not anything sexual, just – more of a protection than anything else.” Nonetheless, I felt my face flush hot and red.

“Do we need to send him a message?” she offered.

I shook my head. “He’s working. They’re already behind schedule, and I know he would come, but I don’t want to pull him away any more than I have.”  I blinked way the sting that was coming to my eyes.  I was not about to cry over not being able to do something as simple as take a nap.

Grandma Kim hummed to herself for a moment. “Well, I have an idea, if you think you may be interested. And I promise it isn’t medicine.” I nodded for her to continue. “This will in no way obligate you to take on our services, but would you be more comfortable if Lyric slept on the bed with you? Or even on the floor by the bed? I would sit out here while you rested, unless she came to get me if you need help.”

I glanced at Lyric, where she wrestled with Mac, while I thought the idea over. While I barely knew this woman, Antoine recommended her highly – specifically when it came to safety.  And I couldn’t deny there was a certain novelty in having an actual guard dog protect me while I slept, rather than well-meaning construction worker-cum-botanist who did his best imitation of one. “What the hell,” I relented. “May as well take your services for a test drive.”

“That’s the spirit, dear,” she smiled.

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[cinemamablog]

My So-Called Adult Life through Film

Some people find comfort in family and friends, others in less healthy habits like overindulging in food or shopping or alcohol. Then there’s me and my kindred cinephiles, who find nothing more reliable and cozy than to hide under a pile of blankets, prepare a bowl of popcorn, compile a selection of movies, and press “play.” This habit of finding solace in cinema served me well the past eight years of adulthood. I can even chart the changes in my life by the movies that felt like a warm jacket in the emotional winters of my 20s.

In my college years, I found solace in two stylish movies: the Vogue documentary The September Issue (2009) and the Wes Anderson family dramedy The Royal Tenenbaums (2001).

I loved the style and drama of the behind-the-scenes Vogue doc. At the time, my first semester as a college freshman, I still had dreams of acting on the big screen, or working as a fashion photographer as my “back-up” plan. Not only did I use the movie to unwind from my theatre classes and distract myself from a terrible heartsickness, I thought I was studying for my future career. I looked up to Anna Wintour, Grace Coddington, and Andre Leon Talley, like mentors who lived on my laptop screen and in the pages of magazines at the grocery store. For a little over an hour, I shared in their posh struggles. I “tsk”ed at Mario Testino’s flightiness and Sienna Miller’s stubbornness. “Why didn’t you take more photos for the cover, Mario? Just cut your hair, Sienna! It’s the September issue, people!” I’d mentally accost the persons seemingly sabotaging the project. I sided with Coddington when she butted heads with her longtime workplace champion and challenger, Anna Wintour. But above all, I loved lingering on set with Coddington, eating pastries with models in Versailles and researching photography books from the roaring ‘20s. While the internet has repeatedly “cancelled” Grace Coddington, my 18 year-old self basked in her whimsical attitude towards fashion, beauty, and storytelling. I hope some of that whimsy rubbed off on me.

Later in college, during my History major years, I spent all day in class (or skipping class) and all evening either working at Blockbuster or rehearsing for a small show. My fragile mental state wreaked as much havoc on my self-esteem during this time as it did during my early college years, but at least this time I could point to my accomplishments and plead my case: “Look! I’m productive!”

In the strange (but not always unpleasant) smelling aisles of my Blockbuster, I shelved movies and, for recommendation purposes, took note of which of my favorite movies were back in stock. I even lent my personal copy of Anderson’s Rushmore to an unpresuming hipster couple, who returned the movie a couple weeks later with a sweet note and a five dollar bill. As one of the perks of working for near minimum wage, I could rent ten free rentals a week, as well as rent new releases over the weekend before their official release. With this wealth of discs at my fingertips, I discovered a lot of new favorites over my year and a half under Blockbuster’s employ, but repeatedly returned to Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums.

Everyone relates to dysfunctional family dynamics, unless they’re lying. But the familial aspects of the Tenenbaums’ story didn’t stick with me the way the characters’ malaise did. Adopted sister Margot soaking in a bathtub for days, her husband simply stating his wish for death, Richie Tenenbaum taking care to shave his beard before slitting his wrists. The family’s simple melancholy, expressed without melodramatics but rather matter-of-fact statements and actions, struck me. The bluntness of the script, communicating an overall sadness in a straightforward fashion, felt foreign but welcome to my depressed self. I considered myself a powder keg in my adolescence, always the one to spout off my cruel thoughts at the expense of the feelings of those close to me. The way the Tenenbaums expressed themselves, clearly but calmly (save for maybe Ben Stiller’s Chas Tenenbaum), while acknowledging big and uncomfortable feelings, seemed new and exciting. A different, maybe better, way to express myself without exploding from the inside out every other day. While it would take a bit longer before I found the key to bringing a sense of stability to my inner life (it’s called managing expectations and setting boundaries), I found comfort in the Tenenbaums’ home.

A couple years later, after living in LA for a few months, I enjoyed renting movies at South Pasadena’s local video store, Videotheque. Located just a couple exits from either of my jobs and always open late (when the traffic conveniently dies down), I spent my evenings after stressful closing shifts roaming the store’s shelves of DVDs. I tried to mix things up: pick one movie from the horror section, one from a director’s stack of movies, and one from the silent or classic sections. (Videotheque’s organization system spoke to my movie-loving heart, though sometimes I noticed errors, like the silent film The Great Gabbo misleadingly sitting in the Greta Garbo stack.) It was in Gillian Armstrong’s filmography that I discovered a movie that brought me a great deal of comfort in lonely Los Angeles: Starstruck (1982). The pink and glittery spine of the case caught my eye. (As anyone who’s seen me drive around in my little pink car can attest: I adore the color.)

I returned to our Glendale apartment and holed up in our bedroom with my rental selections, including Blue Underground’s aesthetically pleasing release of Starstruck. Jo Kennedy, an authentic punk singer, stars as Jackie in Gillian Armstrong’s New Wave musical about a young woman aspiring to stardom with the help of her clingy cousin/manager, Angus. Ms. Kennedy brings an insane amount of style and showmanship to the role’s musical numbers, whether in a club and wearing a kangaroo suit or on the counters of her family’s diner. The absurdity and overwhelming joy of Armstrong’s follow-up to My Brilliant Career served as a welcome antidote to my low morale, the result of feeling defeated by my part-time work and lack of creative output in one of the world’s most artful (but also corporate) cities. I embraced Kennedy’s bright hair and gutsy interpretations of even brighter pop songs. Starstruck nearly gave me a cavity after indulging on such a sugary confection of music, attitude, and style. It gave me a cinematic epiphany: movies could be colorful, youthful, and a treat for my senses, the same senses that adore the color pink, ‘80s synthesizers, and over-the-top fashions.

Once I returned to Iowa from my all too brief time in California, I felt like I was back at square one. I knew we could make enough money to keep a roof over our heads, which was a blessing, but also, it felt like I reached the end of the road at the ripe old age of 24. I felt wasted, like all the things I had to give rotted away before I even had a chance to share them. During this bleak time of reflection, I returned to a movie that I initially disliked upon my first viewing: Noah Baumbach’s Mistress America (2015).

When I first saw Mistress America in theatres, I walked out of the theatre afterwards to terrible news for my acting career: I had auditioned for a dream role and instead earned a part written for a girl half my age, with less than ten lines. I wonder now how that particular strike to my ego affected my initial impression of the slapstick Noah Baumbach/Greta Gerwig collaboration. Thank goodness I gave the movie a second chance and re-watched it on some streaming service.

Now, as a 20-something, I could relate to the story of Mistress America: a young college freshman, Lola Kirke’s Tracy Fishko, struggles to find her place and gravitates towards an older, seemingly wiser woman, Greta Gerwig’s Brooke Cardinas. Upon my first viewing, I hadn’t really related to either of the main characters. I existed in the awkward space between graduating college and finding my footing, neither in Tracy’s world nor Brooke’s. Upon my second viewing, my life had changed significantly and I had begun a chapter of my life in which I recognized that artistic stagnancy meant emotional death. I saw so much of myself in the character of Brooke Cardinas: dabbling in every hobby that caught my interest and confidently proclaiming my opinions on the facts of life when, on the inside, I felt confident about absolutely nothing. I began to frantically grab at straws to feel like I brought something worthwhile to the world: a business plan for a horror shop, a draft of a local theatre newsletter, a local film newsletter, several drafts of scripts, notes upon notes upon notes on potential theatre projects.

The quick banter of Mistress America, full of zingy one-liners, initially turned me off to the movie. I wrote the script off as “trying too hard,” when later in my 20s, I relished the fantastical intelligence of the dialogue. Yes, no one actually talks like that, but god, I wish they did. The manic pace of Baumbach and Gerwig’s characters matched the pace of the marathon in my brain, where I ran a personal race to create something worthwhile.

Now I wonder, in the next few years, what movies I will look back at and think, “Wow, how did that movie find me when I needed it the most?”

[gingerteaonthetardis]

56, 41, 10 :-)

10. how would you describe your style?

i already sort of answered this question, but i think the easiest way of putting it is "whatever i damn well please," haha. i tend to dress for comfort rather than style, which means i wear leggings and sweaters and bralettes A LOT.

41. top 10 favorite songs?

THIS IS SO HARD, HOW CAN I LIST JUST TEN???

i love music so much and my taste evolves constantly, so i'm going to just list ten songs that i've been listening to on repeat recently. because a "top ten of all time" sort of list would take me six hours and blood, sweat, and tears to compile!

((ALSO, SPOILER ALERT: I HAVE DEPRESSION AND THESE SONGS ARE ALL GONNA RUTHLESSLY EXPOSE ME FOR THE SAD BITCH I AM.))

- killer + the sound by phoebe bridgers, noah gundersen, and abby gundersen (despite the stripped sound and simple progression, the chords are played on two different pianos simultaneously, giving the song this richness that i'm thoroughly addicted to.)

- a different kind of human by aurora (and, by the way, aurora lowkey invented her own hybrid language for this song/album! strongly reflects the alien, otherworldly tone and i can't get enough of it. listening to it in iceland was a TRIP.)

- they stay down deep by giselle (a recent favorite, but it's been on repeat for a few weeks now! i like songs that sound happy, but have a depth of feeling to them, and this definitely qualifies for me. also, it gives me some STRONG ninerose vibes, which i always need.)

- burn the witch by radiohead (picking just one radiohead song for this list is a total struggle. i'm just a big fan in general, and have been since middle school. but this song is a current bop.)

- take care as performed by keaton henson (though i also LOVE the original beach house version. this song is another favorite for writing, because i just love the vulnerability in keaton henson's voice, played out over such a simple accompaniment. lyrically, it's so simple, but it's also EVERYTHING.)

- car park by fenne lily (a sad banger. highly recommend.)

- violet by marika hackman (once again, picking JUST ONE marika hackman song feels like a crime against music. she's absolutely brilliant, and writes excellent angsty, pining music, specifically for wlw.)

- older chests by damien rice (i have no excuse for listening to so much damien rice. he's one of the best songwriters of the last hundred years and i regularly listen to his entire albums, uninterrupted.)

- night shift by lucy dacus (this song makes me want to personally drive to people's homes and break up with their shitty boyfriends for them. also, i saw her perform this song live and it was so good that i cried.)

- sunlight by hozier (you didn't REALLY think i'd make it through this entire list without at least one hozier song. fun fact: this is canonically what starts playing in the doctor's head when rose tyler walks into the room. i don't make the rules. it's just facts.)

- BONUS: hoppípola by sigur ros because it's like getting seratonin infused directly into your fucking bloodstream. extra points if you listen to it while driving on route one in iceland.

56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

neither. both. i don't know, i'm never content anywhere i live. i grew up in the suburbs and now live in a rural (read: farm town) area, and i've never liked either. i like wandering. ideally, i'd like to live in a city with modern amenities and decent water pressure, but be less than an hour away from vibrant, stunning nature. and i'd like to have a rooftop garden. that, or i want to live in a yurt in the mountains and drink glacier water. god, i'm furious to be back in america, can you tell??

thank you for the ask @devldegg and sorry for how WEIRD I GOT WITH IT.