#that sinkhole in my apartment parking lot be like

[jonassethi]

falling into a sinkhole

After that fight, Jonas knew he had to get out. Once again, through no fault of his own, caught in the middle of it - stuck between a rock and a hard place, except they were both as tough as each other. His uncle complained about how he never knew where Rita was after work, that she was busy with other guys and their apartment was more of a pit-stop than a home. Then she drove back with the fact that he was the one who encouraged her to get a job in the first place. Somehow Jonas’ laziness and his lingering scent of pot got added to the mix? So he ditched. Fast. And went to the abandoned parking garage outside the 7/11 where Jamal and Liam sat on the hood of a truck, each swinging beers.

Jamal moved over as soon as he saw Jonas, nudging to the side and patting the empty space next to him with a smirk. Within seconds Jonas had a beer in his hand as well. Life was pristine, balanced, and normal. Despite the beer’s laughably low alcohol content, the liquid spread a sensation of warmth across his body as soon as it spilt down his throat.

“This weekend’s going to be dead. Again,” Liam said, spreading his legs out straight in front of him as if to catch the last remnants of the afternoon sun. “My dealer's still not selling anything after that scare from his probation officer. Not even pot. And Princess Emmy is vacationing at the Hamptons, so no party either.”

“Your old playmate,” Jamal nudged Jonas playfully, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

Jonas just nodded and rolled his eyes in acknowledgement - a silent way of responding just my luck. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t let out the details of his juvenile (in all meanings of the word) friendship with Maeve while he was drunk. He often wished he hadn’t done a lot of things while drunk.

Their stoner jerk circle descended into the usual monotonous boredom within a few minutes, the list of people they could verbally piss about growing short and shorter. But Jonas didn’t mind the silence; he reclined back onto the truck window, letting his eyelids flutter shut. It was getting chilly, the cold autumn kept at bay gradually making itself felt with some bursts of wind that nipped at his nose. He liked his motorcycle well enough, but there was no room to lay down and stare up at the sunset like this.

“Let’s have some fun, Jonas, you look like you’ve got a stick up your ass,” Jamal snorted after he’d come back from the trunk with two new beer bottles. “Bet you I can chug one down whole before you can.”

Jonas’ steely brown eyes stared down his competition, sizing up whether he could trade a few seconds of his dignity for an extra ten or fifteen bucks. Jamal, sensing his hesitation, added, “You win, I’ll hand you over twenty. I win, and you have to write Princess Emmy a letter.”

“A love letter, she’d eat that shit up,” Liam slurred. “Not like you’ve got anything better to do.”

That sounds abought right, Jonas thought.

His muscles tensed under his skin while Liam counted down, the same contained energy a predator feels pulsing through their body while peering at a stray rabbit or deer. Competition warmed the blood rushing to his cheeks, more than any of the alcohol he’d drunk thus far could. Within milliseconds, the jagged edges of the cap scraped the inside of Jonas’ palm as his hand flew to twist it open. Messily, like a soldier trapped in the desert who jumps into the first lake he finds, he drank down the acute shock of pain with the beer. Most of the liquid made its way into his chest, save for the few bursts that dribbled down his chin. With his head tilted and eyes closed, protection from the sun, Jonas couldn’t see the speedy, slurping frenzy that was Jamal right beside him. He didn’t know he had lost until a glass bottle was tossed on the ground hysterically, followed by two loud yelps.

“Beat that,” Jamal smirked, his voice dripping with the high of victory. “Time to get to writing, Shakespeare.”

Jonas’ stomach churned like a washing machine starting its first spin cycle, either from all the beer he just drank in a ridiculous amount of time or the thought of writing to Maeve. Or both. His friends pounced on him, wringing their arms around his neck and punching his stomach playfully. Wiping the sticky liquid on his mouth with the back of his hand, Jonas retreated back into the safe frenzied teasing from Jamal and Liam, the laughing and outrageous comments and whistles that came along with it, pretending like he wasn’t already thinking about what to write to Maeve - pretending that he hadn’t thought of this idea since Sophomore year.

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Ten

        I couldn't pinpoint a reason for my sudden combustion - I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been so emotional during a therapy session - but before I could embarrass myself any further I stood from my seat, heading for the door as the silence broke out behind me. Before I pulled it shut, I caught a glimpse of a disquieted Murdoc and his niggling eyes pointed towards me as I escaped. I just couldn't face him any longer.

     I paced back and forth in the entrance of the clinic, fanning myself as if I was suffering a heat stroke. I sat myself on the bench, dabbing the sweat off of my forehead and massaging my stinging cheeks. I figured I'd calm myself down before calling a taxi and dried my face with my shirt, pulling out my phone from my bag.

        "(Y/N)?"

        Startled, I hopped in my spot and almost dropped my phone. My hands scattered to catch it and I looked up to see Murdoc, the glass door slowly shutting after him while as stood motionless. I sighed with relief, even if I was embarrassed to be such a mess in front of him. "Hey, Muds . . ."

        There was a heavy silence hanging over us and I set my phone on my lap, wondering which one of us had more guts than the other to start a conversation first. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

        I inhaled deeply, nearly letting out a sob when releasing my breath and sniffing once more while he came towards me. "There's nothing much to talk about," I explained, tilting my head down.

        He perched beside me, our shoulders inches apart as he got comfortable. "There's gotta be something wrong," he pushed with a soft smirk. He tapped my shoulder with his own, "You can tell me."

        Part of my senses doubted myself. However, I'd known this man for roughly two months and we'd already kissed, so even if things we going a little fast, we were close enough, right? I scratched and rubbed my arms to warm my body up, pondering the right words to begin. Rain began pelting the pavement an hour prior to the session, leaving flooding puddles throughout the parking lot and streets, producing a foggy mist around us. The cold air pained my lungs but I just couldn't catch my breath. I wanted to spill everything I'd been holding in to Murdoc so badly, but the thought of facing my problems again just built more tears in my eyes, and I wasn't sure I was ready to breakdown in front of him. It was too late, though.

        I bawled mercilessly, the both of us completely ignorant to when I would stop. Not any time soon, certainly. Murdoc was puzzled, and I felt bad as I watched his attempt at handling me and my malfunction. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, letting me cry my heart out before I was ready to talk. It took five minutes of silence, aside from my sobs and snivels until I was stable enough to pull myself together.

        I could hear Murdoc's smile through his words, "Are you done?"

        I nodded and finally caught up with my breathing, turning my body towards his. "I don't know what's wrong with me . . ." I mumbled. "I just don't know how much longer I can live like this."

        I'd said so little but, and rightfully so, alarmed Murdoc to an awful extent. "W-what do you mean?"

        What did I mean? I'd been talking as if I understood myself but my mind was wandering elsewhere; I wasn't sure what I wanted from myself anymore. "I don't know . . . but I’m so, so tired of living this way. People tell me it gets better all the fucking time but if it doesn't . . ." I swallowed, “I don't know if I wanna be here long enough to see it get worse than this."

        Murdoc shifted his body closer, but moved his head back, searching for a solution to my distress. "A-are you . . . Are you suicidal?" he questioned under his breath.

        I lifted my puffy face to meet with his pale green complexion. How could I admit it? I wanted to be honest, but I couldn't help but feel like such a misfortune. "I . . ." Murdoc stared me down. It was an obvious threat to tell him the truth whether I wanted to or not. "Yeah . . ." I confessed. "I am."

        "For how long?”

        "A few days now . . . I don't know why I've been hesitating," I added, "but I don't walk into traffic for no reason."

        Murdoc was hushed but I could sense his trepidation like an animal. "So . . . you've conditioned yourself to . . . not look both ways?"

        "I suppose you could say that."

        I looked down and noticed his hands, one of them fiddling with the zipper of his leather jacket nervously. "Shit, (Y/N) . . . I'm sorry . . ." His tone gave me the impression he was feeling guilty, but for what? "Is there anything I can do for you?"

        I shook my head, "I'm just gonna go home, might take another shift to distract myself."

        Within a single blink, Murdoc's eyes switched like a light from sincere mourning to on-the-spot safety plan assertiveness. "No way," he said. My eyes widened at his spontaneous mood swings, taken back by his impulsivity. "Not like this. I'm not leaving you alone," he concluded.

        “What?” Deep down I wanted to reject his offer - or more so a demand - so I could isolate myself. I’d listen to my days worth of sorrowful music playlists and drown myself in a fort of pillows, blankets and tears; but I knew it wouldn't work. “Are you sure?”

        Murdoc stood up, holding out his hands for me to take. "Of course I'm sure," he insisted.

        “You aren't busy though, right?"

        He pulled me to my feet and I couldn’t help myself from smiling. "Nah, Tuesdays aren't usually busy due to therapy."

        Murdoc opened his arms wide, motioning for me to accept his proposal, and drew me into a hug. I was speechless. We stood for a few seconds, feeling him rock me back and forth and before letting go of our embrace and intertwining his fingers with mine. Was this Murdoc? He didn't seem like the hand-holding type, never mind the hugging type, no matter what the situation was. There was obvious chemistry between us but I could tell this wasn’t the typical romance he invested himself in. "C'mon, we can hang at my place," he said, heading for the parking lot. He didn’t release me, guiding me to his car as if I wouldn’t recognize it by myself. I was so genuinely muddled by his inexplicably affectionate gesture I couldn't understand what I was doing or where I was going. Nonetheless, I climbed into the passenger seat and it was much cleaner than it was before; I tried not to be impressed.

        As expected, Murdoc turned the radio on, and I decoded the familiar tune of Black Sabbath in all its heavy metal holiness. I relaxed myself to the beat vibrating through the speakers like last time, and I knew I made the right decision. I felt right where I was supposed to be.

        The ride wasn't any different from our past minute-long road trips down the highway, but I couldn’t help but notice it took longer. The only thing protecting us from awkward silence was the wind slicing through my hair as Murdoc rolled down the windows.

        "Is joyriding another activity I need to mark down on your list?" he asked.

        I smiled, too distracted by what awaited beyond the vehicle door to turn around. "Absolutely.”

        I heard him chuckle and he drove past the next exit, leaving me to wonder where he was taking us. "I'll spare a few more minutes on the road then," he decided.

        I looked back at him with a beaming grin, "Thanks."

        I received one in return and watched him turn up the music, his eyes skimming over the pavement. I understood, there and then, how much of an appreciation I had for long, comfortable tours around London. I slightly wished we'd stopped so he could look at me just a little longer; so that I could look at him and find the sincere generosity of his time dedicated to admiring the little things in his eyes, hoping it wasn't all an act.

        "(Y/N)?"

        "Hmm?" I questioned, my eyes glued to his picture before I noticed it moving. But how long had I been staring? How long had he been calling my name? I instantly flushed red, my eyes widening like sinkholes before leaning back and covering my face in embarrassment. This only seemed to amuse him more.

        "Alright, I know I'm charming and all but I'm sure there are other views worth noticing as well." His eyes moved beside me and out the window, and I followed his gaze to be met with the restless River Thames.

        The waves were small but strong, crashing against the walls that tamed their force. There weren't any boats on account of all the rain, but the weather only made the water splash harder and make my heart tremble tremendously in my chest. I couldn’t stress it enough: I might've lived in London since university, but I'd been stuck in the void of my apartment for more than half of the time. I couldn't remember the last time I'd driven past London’s many blessings but gazing upon Tower Bridge made me feel sick in a way. How could I have let myself miss out on such incredible sights right in front of me?

        “Breathtaking, eh?"

        “Yeah . . ." I said, my eyes glued to the mist lifting from the billow. I sighed, and I missed not fearing the water all the years ago. Every comber looked so refreshing - and I yearned for a simple droplet or two whenever I came face to face with a cup or even a puddle outside my apartment building - but I couldn't. I just couldn't do it.

        "We should do this more often; go out every once in a while and look at all the different Wonders of the World," he said.

        “You really wanna?" I turned back to him, my face lightening up with the change of subject.

        “Sure! You don't seem to get out much," he chuckled, a smile staining both of our faces. "Especially when I take you on tour with me."

        I rolled my eyes, "You're still convinced I'd go?"

        “Won't you?"

        I froze. "I-I mean, I would love to but . . ." I quieted down and Murdoc rolled up the windows, turning down the music.

        “What's the matter?"

        “I just wouldn't wanna be a burden," I stated bluntly.

        Murdoc nearly stopped the car, feeling the jolt as it sent both of our heads a few inches forwards. "What?" he exclaimed. "You could never be a burden, (Y/N)! In fact, I'd hire you to help us if my record company wasn't so strict," he said. "Why would you think you're a burden?"

        I smiled at his kind words before softly frowning. "All I know is I can be a lot of emotional baggage to carry. Y'know, I'm still working on myself and I know it's gonna be a long process . . ."

        Murdoc stopped at a red light, leaving the conversation quiet for a moment. "Well, hey," he began, "why don't we work on it together? It'll be like . . . rehab but much cozier and exotic."

        I laughed louder than either of us expected, "I don't think there's a way to make rehab cozy and exotic."

        “You'd be surprised," he smiled. "Besides, tour can be stressful, but it's a good type of stressful. ‘A distraction from the urge’ if you will."

        I pondered, my finger tapping my chin as I sat it upon the palm of my hand, my elbow on the car door's window pane. "It's definitely captivating. Sometimes I wonder if you're actually serious or not."

        “What, this whole time you thought I wasn't serious?" I looked back at him, realizing how crazy this man truly was. "I mean it. Get your degree, quit your jobs - all three of them, “he emphasized, “and come with me on tour. I'll ensure you a spot on our team whether my company likes the idea or not."

        I laughed nervously but his glaring eyes wore me down. "You’re not kidding?”

        "Not at all! How many times do I have to tell ya'?" Murdoc chuckled. Truly, my heart was all in for it. In fact, the thought didn't only excite me, but give me genuine hope. He was so confident that things would turn out okay in the end that I actually felt as though my future was set. Murdoc wasn't my therapist nor my doctor, and I wouldn't act like he was, but he was the only person I knew at that point who wasn't obligated to be there for me, yet was there anyway. "Does it not sound fun?"

        "It really does," I said. "I just wonder if I'll be ready to leave by the time you do.”

        “Oh, believe me," he smirked, “you’re ready to leave this place."

        I chuckled and he continued down the road, meeting with more busy streets and crowds of pedestrians. "Say, I'm a bit peckish. Wanna look for a place to eat?"

        Murdoc being Murdoc, we hit up my Café. I waved to Lawrence when passing the register, thinking about how much I'd miss his freckled smile when I left. I didn’t know how I felt about working at the Café so much, but I’d probably miss that place no matter how frustrating working in customer service was sometimes. We grabbed our grub and left the busy shop, Murdoc leading me through the city as if he were my tourist guide. "Did you adjust well moving here for university?" Murdoc asked me, taking a sip of his coffee.

        I twisted my lips in contemplation, "Yeah, a little bit. I needed time to get used to the accent but I got it eventually."

        “I feel ya there," he smirked. "Folks from Stoke are known for talking fast so everything felt sort of . . . slow," he mocked, leaving me laughing.

        “In that case, I didn't need you to tell me you're from Stoke-On-Trent," I joked back, feeling him nudge my arm all the while he bellowed.

        We walked a little further, a vibrant green park soon coming into view. Small blooming trees were planted without pattern, struggling to grow in the youth of Spring. They circled around a fountain in the middle of the yard, multiple sidewalks leading from the roundabout road to the beautiful sculptured centrepiece. I prayed to every god and goddess I could remember in hopes that we wouldn't get any closer. “What's your favourite part about living here?" he asked me. He took long strides forwards, crossing the street as I followed slowly behind him.

        “The weather," I dully replied, fear fuelling my energy to spin around and leave down the road, partially hoping I'd get hit by a speeding vehicle before I reached the other side. "What about you?"

        “This fountain," Murdoc smirked, speeding his pace. I winced and sighed, anxiety pumping through my veins as my heartbeat thumped faster. If I got any closer I'd have a heart attack. "Come on," Murdoc smiled, gesturing me to follow him. I watched him look to his left and right, assuming he was watching for wandering police officers as if he cared. He placed his palms above the fountain walls and pushed himself up, standing himself on top. He walked along the barrier, balancing himself with stretched out arms like a child. I pursed my lips, looking around frantically and hoping he wouldn't get us in trouble. Murdoc would be the death of my reputation one day, I knew that for sure. "Stu was up here one day, fooling around like a halfwit before falling in," he laughed. "I can't tell you how hard I wheezed!"

        I walked closer, hesitant like a stray cat towards a human. My breath began arriving in short, fast inhales and exhales, realizing how much I was sweating and shaking. What if he were to fall in and hit his head? What if I couldn’t pull him out in time and he were to drown? How would I ever make it up to him if I was the cause of his death?

        "(Y/N) . . . ?" Murdoc addressed. I stood still, my eyes widened as tears built up and my heart pounded in my ears. Finally, I backed away; the further I got, the easier it was to breathe. "Are you okay?" Murdoc hopped down from the wall, nervous to approach me. I wanted to shake my head, but I couldn't move any part of my body aside from my legs which pulled me back. His fingers wrapped around the fists that I clenched at my chest, pulling them down and turning me around to face the streets rather than the sculpture. "W-what's wrong?"

        I blinked, the tears leaking down to my chin and slowly down my neck. "I-I'm not good friends with water . . ."

        The pensive Murdoc squinted his eyes. "You . . . You have a fear of water?" I shook my head and he pulled me away further, pulling me towards one of the benches decorating the perimeter of the park. "Shit . . ." he mumbled, setting me down beside him and holding me close. "I'm so sorry (Y/N), I didn't realize."

        I calmed myself enough to speak, still gasping at every other breath. "I didn't want you to," I said. "I hoped you never would."

        "Why?" Murdoc asked, looking back at me. "It's clearly . . . important that I know so this doesn't happen again," he said.

        “I know . . . I didn’t want my fears to dictate what you do and don’t do because you don’t wanna . . .”

        “Hurt you?” he supplied.

        For lack of a better word, I nodded. “But I hate thinking about it, let alone talking about it . . ."

        He clearly didn't know what to say, and I didn't expect him to. What could he say that would make me feel better? “I know where you're coming from," he connected. "But listen . . ." I looked up to him, wiping the tears from my eyes and clearing my blurry vision. "I know you probably won't want to - I know what it's like to be pushed out of my comfort zone to help heal from . . . from stuff - but maybe I could help you?"

        I cleared my throat, pushing my hair from my face. "How?"

        "Baby steps," he said. "We'll just take baby steps," he repeated. "It won't be easy of course, and I don't even know much about your fears to begin with, but . . . I know it'll be worth it. During tour, if you’d still like to come, I can help you . . .” I stammered, “practice.”

        I couldn't make voluntary decisions like Murdoc could. He might’ve had a doctorate in psychology but were we capable of helping each other when we eventually left rehab and set off on our own? Auditioning for what might as well be Fear Factor: Without Cameras wasn't something you could sign up for so quickly, but I knew he wasn't wrong. Getting over my fears, or at the very least coping with my trauma, would undoubtedly save me from long-term suffering I'd have to endure. However, I also knew that one day I would have to push my limits and walk into the splashing void of wet predators - both living and inanimate - and that it would take a lot of stress and motivation to get there. Murdoc must’ve had his own goals in mind as well; could we reach them together without faltering?

        “You’ll be with me through it all, right?" I asked.

        “Of course I will," he smiled. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly before lifting his other hand to my cheek. He wiped the last of my tears away with him thumb, "I always will."

[thismightbeaterribleidea]

Accidental Snowbirding

So I went to Florida and accidentally became a snowbird. I drove south in September with no real timeframe for anything in mind, and I ended up staying on the Gulf coast north of Tampa (Pasco County) for almost three months, minus a couple of weeks I was in Georgia.

Some friends have asked me how the new, nomadic life is going, and I tell them that it hasn’t really felt that nomadic. I’ve enjoyed being close to my friend Ron — I had a regular rotation of several campgrounds, none of them more than half an hour from his place. It reminded me of the decade-plus ago when we both lived in Denver, in old, cheap apartments within walking distance of each other. A friend calls and says “do you want to come over?” and you just go over. It’s lovely. We both got into paddleboarding (more on that later) and explored some rivers. We even took an airbnb trip to the Smokies and northern Alabama before the pandemic escalated. So it’s been interesting and good, if different from the types of images that motivated me to buy this big-ass van (wilderness, solitude, aspen groves, desert mesas).

Here’s what I remember from the last few months:

A cotton-candy-pink bird forages on a shoreline and it is so quiet that you can hear its three-clawed feet pattering in the mud. Ninety minutes later we are scarfing down fried chicken in the car in a crowded parking lot.

In the trailer park, people drive golf carts around in loops: maybe this passes for exercise, or maybe they are hoping to run into someone to talk to.

Until November, I sweat and sweat and sweat, and then it cools off enough for me to run in the morning and it’s glorious. 

During the day, there is constant traffic and the lights are always red. There are a lot of billboards, all promising different things, but the one that makes us angry is the one that says “Jesus promises stability.”

I spend the night at a trailer park and the ladies in the office are sweet and efficient and wearing masks. But the spot I’m assigned is across from a mobile home with one of those flags that is half the U.S. flag and half the Confederate flag, and although my privilege probably keeps me safe here, I keep running through the equations with slightly different variables: who would be safe in this spot, in this trailer park/this county/this state/this country, and under what circumstances? What could make all of us safer? And the people who chose to pay for and display that absurdity of a flag, why is that flag the story they tell themselves? And what is the topography of the shared responsibility for all of this bullshit?

We paddle the Hillsborough River and see no other boaters but two alligators. One is basking on a log, and when I turn my head for a second it drops into the water with a massive splash: one moment there was a six-foot alligator; the next moment there was nothing but ripples. It was that fast. My friend decides he will not paddle here alone.

I see live oaks that have Spanish moss hanging from their branches, sure — but they’re also covered in lichens, and on the horizontal branches there are carpets of multiple kinds of moss and clusters of foot-tall ferns. It’s a whole ecosystem in one tree.

I’m driving “home” (most frequent campground) late one night and I am alone on a very dark road. In my headlights, I see a human figure in the middle of my lane, facing directly at me. I think: goblin! But it is a human person. I swerve into the other lane in case he moves. But he doesn’t move a muscle. He is in a half-crouch with his hands on his knees. I catch a glimpse of him in profile as I pass: his face is set in a rictus, jaw clenched. He is still staring straight ahead, unblinking, as if he hasn’t even seen me.

I call Ron just to reassure myself that I haven’t slipped out of the real human world and into someplace else.

“Oh my God,” he says. “But no, you’re still in the real world. There’s a lot of meth around here. He’s not a demon or anything. It’s just Florida.” He is wearing a dark sweatshirt and standing in the dark on a dark road; what if he gets hit? I call the police and I hate that to this day I still wonder if that was the right decision.

We get into paddleboarding. Ron already has an inflatable paddleboard, and I buy one with money I should be saving for things like van insulation or the loose crown on my lower left molar that is already living on borrowed time. But the paddleboard is amazing. Previously, I hadn’t gotten it: why stand when you could sit? I’m lazy and I have crappy feet; I hate standing. But this isn’t regular standing. It’s walking-on-water standing. In our favorite river, the Weeki Wachee, you can see all kinds of things from a paddleboard that it’s harder to see in a kayak, just because of the angle. On a paddleboard, you look straight down and there’s a fish striped like a zebra, an old pine log submerged ten feet down in the clear water, a scurrying blue crab, a bed of rippled sand.

We start at the public park and paddle up against a stiff current. Twice, we get to the three-mile mark and there is the same black-and-white cormorant in the same tree both times. We are familiar with the fact that if you time it right, so that you get back to the park as late as possible without actually paddling in the dark, and the crowds taper off so you have the river to yourself, the deepest pools are turquoise on our way upriver and viridian on our way down.

There are sometimes manatees on the river. In this part of the world, manatees are THE charismatic megafauna. And they are charismatic as hell. Once we are out late, a couple miles up the river with no one else around, and we see a mother and baby grazing on eelgrass in shallow water. We watch for minutes, mesmerized. The baby is tiny for a manatee: about the size of a Corgi. It must be very, very new. There is another manatee that I’m pretty sure I see several times on different days: it is very plump, with three pink slash marks across its back. We get to the point where, if there is a throng of other boaters stopped near where manatees are feeding, we don’t try to stop and see the manatees. We’ve seen them before, and we’ll see them again, when we don’t have to worry about the people and their kayaks and canoes in the current.

The last time I went to the Weeki Wachee, I went alone. The leaves were turning, because the calendar’s close-to-Christmas is Florida’s fall. I hadn’t ever planned on seeing a blazing orange maple next to tropical blue water, but it happened. Close-knit formations of big, soft gray, doe-eyed fish darted under my feet, and at the appointed time the water started turning dark green. In one of the final bends just upriver from the park, there is a deep spot called Hospital Hole. As I paddled down towards it, I saw one manatee, then another break the surface to breathe. I drifted over the hole, away from the manatees near the surface, and I saw the outline of another one eight or ten feet down against the very dark blue of very deep water.

The Weeki Wachee is a very narrow river, usually not more than thirty feet across and often only twenty. It’s also shallow, four or five feet on average, twelve where the current has carved a deep groove or pocket. Hospital Hole is at one of the river’s widest points, I’d guess maybe 150 feet from bank to bank. The hole itself — technically a sinkhole, but with a couple of small springs feeding into it — is only about 30 or 40 feet wide, but 140 feet deep. It goes down so far that there are different layers of water: freshwater, saltwater, a layer that is anoxic, another layer that is so full of hydrogen sulfide that divers can smell the rotten-egg odor even though they’re breathing compressed air. I read online that the manatees often go to Hospital Hole to sleep at night. The sinkhole-spring, like a big deep pocket, gives them space to stay together and still spread out. They can sink down below where they have to worry about boat engines or curious paddle boarders or whatever else manatees worry about. Every so often, they come up to breathe, then sink down again. Respire, rest, repeat.

It’s 7:17 p.m. as I am writing this, so they’re probably there right now.

***

So that’s Florida! Other, more nuts-and-bolts things that have happened include...

I installed lights and outlets. This was a big project and a big deal, since it means that I can have things like a fan (to keep me from sweating to death in the summer), an electric cooler (a.k.a. mini-mini-fridge) for things like vegetables and hummus and cheese and cold boozy beverages, and, well, lights at night that aren’t a harsh blue-white solar lantern, which is what I was using before October, when I made these improvements. Anything electrical is always a little scary; I’m nervous every time I have to go into the breaker box and always surprised when I’m able to touch it without shocking myself. I also had an extremely minimal understanding of how to splice wires together and how to connect all these lights to each other, to the dimmer switch, and to the breaker box. This involved a lot of googling, and even though the DIY van blogs seemed to say that installing lights would take half a day, it took me the better part of two days. But it’s done, and I’m very happy with it. Fiat lux, motherf***er!

My new favorite public agency is the Southwest Florida Water Management District. Occasionally, if I’d had a few drinks at Ron’s house, I spent the night parked in his driveway. Sometimes I stayed in private RV parks. (This was mostly driven by the need to empty the van’s port-a-pot once a week or so — public dump stations are not easy to find in this area of Florida; the closest was about an hour away.) But mostly, I stayed at campground operated by the SWFWMD. These campgrounds are in big tracts of forested, marshy, watery land, and they are great primitive campgrounds that cost $0. There’s no water, no showers, no other fancy campground amenities, but there is usually one outhouse, and each campsite has a picnic table and a fire pit. They’re basic and beautiful.

My favorite campground is called the Serenova Tract. It’s about 15 minutes from Ron’s house, and the campground is in a bunch of pines and live oaks. Horses are allowed, and on one of the last weekends I spent there, several people with horses stayed overnight and hung up Christmas lights. The next morning, they were joined by a dozen other horses and riders who all went for a morning trail ride through the woods. I was insanely jealous.

The other SWFWMD campground I stayed at was called Cypress Creek. It’s a little farther from Ron’s place than Serenova, so it was my second choice when Serenova was full but my van’s shitter wasn’t. It’s a beautiful spot, with tons of big pines. But right now I’m a little wary of it because the last time I stayed there I woke up from a dead sleep at 4:51 a.m. when I heard someone singing and talking to themselves. (The campground had been totally empty when I got there and still was as far as I could see.) It was probably just someone who had come in on foot and was drinking because it was cold (40 degrees) outside, but it was still a bit unnerving. 

I also have a favorite RV park. I was thinking that my relationship with these places would be strictly utilitarian, and it still mostly is. But out of the three RV parks that I’ve stayed at, there’s one small one called Suncoast that I actually kind of enjoyed: even though I only went there occasionally, the three staff people remembered me when I called or came in, and they often gave me a discount on their regular rates because I don’t use any electricity. They (both staff and most guests) also seem to be taking pretty good pandemic precautions. (I actually saw someone get kicked out of the office when they tried to come in without a mask, something that I’ve never seen in any other business since March!) The place has nice big pine trees, and by the office there’s a table where people put free food that they aren’t using, or occasionally two-day-old bread that someone got from Publix for free. The last time I was there, some people had decorated their campers and RVs with lights and it was kind of charming. I still heavily prefer to be out in the woods by myself and not spending any money, but I’m glad I found someplace pleasant for my once-a-week-or-so sewer/water needs.

I figured out how to stay warm while sleeping. This is a bigger deal than it sounds because a) I haven’t insulated the van yet, so at night, it’s only a few degrees warmer than whatever the temperature is outside, and b) I’m a very cold sleeper. Florida is SUPER WARM compared to any other place I’ve ever lived, but in December, it started getting a little chilly at night: down into the fifties, then the forties, then, a few nights ago, 30 degrees. I’ve camped in near-freezing or slightly-below-freezing temperatures before, but sometimes it wasn’t very comfortable — even with good long underwear and socks and a hat and a zero-degree-rated sleeping bag. But I’ve figured out a system for my bed that uses four blankets, layered like a licorice allsort: a quilt, a heavy wool blanket, another quilt, and a faux-wool blanket. If it gets below 40, I can add my zero-degree down sleeping bag and be not just comfortable but actively toasty, like a baking croissant.

Unrelatedly, I’ve been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

I’ve found that my life in a van is basically like my life has been anywhere else. I work. I sleep. I stay up late reading things on the internet when I should be sleeping. Sometimes I go running or do yoga (while trying not to bump into the cabinet or kick the front console or hit the ceiling). Sometimes I do fun things, like paddleboarding or talking to friends. I make goals and plans and don’t follow through on them, except when very very occasionally I do. But when I’m looking up van stuff online, I often run across photos of people who are #selfemployed #vanlife and the photos of them working are:

A woman is seated propped up on pillows in the bed in the back of her van. The doors are open, framing a view of the cerulean sea, so that you can practically smell the gentle breeze blowing over the dunes. She has a laptop on her lap and is looking thoughtfully out to sea while a cup of tea steeps on a tray that is on the white coverlet of her bed.

Or

A man is seated at the dinette in the back of his van. He has a laptop, a French press, a mug of coffee, and a plate with two scones on it on the table. The table, and in fact the whole dinette with its two upholstered benches, would be at home on a small luxury yacht, and it’s the kind of dinette that you make into a bed at night. The astute, intent expression on the man’s face give the viewer to understand that he is competent and disciplined and never stays up two hours past his bedtime because he’s too lazy to lower the dinette table and rearrange the cushions and put on all his sheets and blankets. We are also given to understand that the electrical system in his van would have no problems handling the power drain of a bean grinder, even though he is clearly parked in the high Rockies — again, with the back doors open, the better to take in the late spring air and see the fresh green of the aspen trees — and it’s often cloudy. Lastly, we are given to understand that he baked those scones himself, because when he’s not working, hiking, lumberjacking, or otherwise living his best life, he enjoys unwinding by baking bread and pastries. (Not in the van; don’t be silly! He bakes outside, over a wood fire.)

(A tangent: Why do so many people have their van doors open in photos I see online? Do they only stay in places with no bugs? If I tried that in Florida, or even Maryland or Colorado half the year, I’d be awake half the night swatting at mosquitoes and/or flies.)

In contrast, a photo of me being self-employed in a van would look like:

A woman is sprawled in an ungainly fashion on her narrow bunk. Her laptop is braced by her lower ribs and propped up with a pillow placed over her gut. The pillow has a cat on it. The windows of the van are covered in silver bubble-wrap, so very little light gets in. Absolutely no doors are open, because the van is parked behind a Dunkin Donuts so the woman can get free wifi and not burn through all the data on her phone plan. She takes a break to heat up a can of Campbell’s soup on an alcohol stove, adding a handful of dehydrated mixed vegetables, to be healthy. As she stirs the soup, she gazes contemplatively out the windshield towards the adjacent parking lot, where there is an IHOP. #vanlife

Or

A woman is sitting in the passenger seat of her van with her feet on the dashboard and her laptop on her lap. Beside her in the cupholder is a steaming Hydroflask full of the cheapest tea she could buy at Publix. The van is parked in a grove of live oaks. Spanish moss sways gently in the morning breeze. Behind the woman, in the dark recesses of the van, sets of clothes are hanging: leggings and a shirt, still sweaty, by the side doors, a bathing suit over the sink, a t-shirt and shorts for sleeping in by the rear cabinet. Several kitchen towels are draped on the driver’s seat and on the dashboard because the cab leaks above the sun visors when it rains, and even though she’s tried caulking it three times, she still can’t get it to stop. #vanlife

The good thing, though, is that I’m still getting work and making a living. I can do it someplace that’s safe, without having to risk my life to do it. And I’m getting paid a fair hourly wage. But then the very terrible thing is that everyone should be able to say what I just said, but so many people can’t: they’re not making a real living through their work, they have to risk their lives to do it, and they’re not getting paid a fair wage.

(Brief interlude as I stare at the ceiling angrily.)

***

Here’s what I’m doing next: I left Pasco County on the 16th. I’ll be in what I think of as “traveling quarantine” until the 30th, staying in a national forest near Jacksonville. (With a couple of stops at state parks to refill water, empty the port-a-pot, and maybe take a real shower.) I’ll be in Maryland on New Year’s Eve and will stay at my parents’ while I insulate the van, build interior walls, and do a bunch of other stuff so that I can call it (mostly) finished. Then I’m thinking of going to New Mexico and spending late winter/early spring there… parked on top of a mesa… sipping a cup of French-press coffee on my white coverlet while I thoughtfully gaze out the open doors of my van… (I really would like to park on top of a mesa though.)

[apocalypse-eyes]

IX.

Two more fingers removed in the dark between stagnant water and the sunken concrete. You're never going to play your guitar again like this. You're never doing anything except listen to those entangled strange voices from the bottom of the city. Weird siren, the radio signal you can feel in your stomach that pulls us here. We're not very different anymore since you keep letting go of yourself. Look out into the world and still there's nothing to remember.

A different way down tonight. Need to find the lowest point where all this emanates from. The other sound is following, from somewhere. Listening like it pulls its tone across our skin. Even your years-old boots are soaked through walking the haggard intestine of these tunnels. I can't feel our fingers from all the cold and numb. A little alcohol to put you to sleep, but don't want to be in your body anyway. It was easy to pry it away from you tonight.

There was the faded graffiti a while back, the blockages of muck and wood scraps. We don't get very hungry anymore, except when the good sound crawls into your blood. Most of your body's processes are shutting down from death, but it doesn't lead to anything. it's stiff when blood grows still in the veins but there's something we need to do. It's piecing together.

Water drains along but there's too much fracture in the lines to worry about flooding. The entrances are rusted shut across the city but there's sinkholes enough to climb down in the network. Sometimes in the splintery dark we get nauseous. Suddenly infiltrated at random intervals when the sharkskin sound moves overhead, clawing at the asphalt where it feels us. A kidney pain like being alive and lightning strike of panic. It usually keels us into the water and the slime gets in our mouth from panting.

I keep rising from the water to staggering forward. My fingers scratch on the mottled concrete walls. You went to sleep for a while to leave me alone with your body and there's something missing. Your trapped animal smell that let of adrenaline. We're empty of natural panic now, only feeling when its injected from above. The further down we go its getting more clear. A little silver string into the smoldering dark.

There's often blood in the water and more pieces of animals. People's clothes and shoes drenched in black and tattered. The sound is pulling your fillings out and they fall in the water sounding like coins drop to the bottom. We're getting lost here but there's always years to wander out. There's nothing left except this and maybe not. They're trying to talk with us, whoever is left down here, with the shrill of gasoline rainbow and sulfur.

The tunnel lets into a flat lot, black air except a distant flame across the water. The crumbling mouth of the lake is down the hill. Some gunshots trickle out of the city, flattened and misleading sounds from their source between the buildings. There's someone else in the empty areas, or the soldiers letting their boredom spill against anything. Everything wants to kill here. There's a light in the window down near the water, something white-indigo and fluttery like the weight of that sound.

Staying close beside the clutter of the pointless wreckages. Parking signs bent all the way to the ground or uprooted. No more flashlight. Our bicycle is chained up very far away. It smells us coming when we're fast, and it's figuring out the patterns of movement. Little stings of nausea. Little moments of cold beneath the tepid breeze. The indigo-white is gone to another floor's window between a second. I scuttle across the street. You're waking up a bit because you don't want to die. You're scared of being torn apart, or it's a memory from somewhere else in your blood. Handling your transient thoughts it's difficult to know what you believe.

You're also looking through these eyes into the terrible blank yawn. Our hands seize up around the piece of jagged metal they were hovering near, incidentally, and there's organic pain like we misplaced. Part of the voice I hear is you, chittering to yourself and sobbing in the dark. Your fingers are gone again and you don't know why you're here in the sunken world. You're hard to recognize whenever you care about your situation.

I'm starting to hear a word from the radio-white when the air around is filled with hatred and toxin. Everything that ever was killed here coagulated into a devil. And a terrible heat that feels like being crushed beneath a tire. Hatchet strikes a body so the bones scream and again until it gets distracted with the gunshots. They're nearer now, enough so you can see the flash of their muzzles except you're draped against the gutted car, half inside and half beneath, spasming still.

Retching and breathing while the vivid suffocation colors float to the back of your vision. Another piece of metal is put into the flesh of your arm but isn't bleeding yet. You'll wake in a mess of blood later in an alley. Not enough of us left to get home tonight. Another gunshot and then a wet, percussive sound you know is a person's body. There's sometimes death, but it doesn't lead to anything, just creating more amalgamates. We lift this body into a leaning, hopeless sprint and go stumbling back to the mouth of the tunnel. Somebody is screaming and it just rings around your ears like a sine loop. You'll see your fingers drifting in the water along the way and they look just like strips of raw chicken from absorbing all the wastewater they're in.

Vermin (work in progress)

I.

My body is a rotten animal. My bicycle is left under the water. I haven't got to understand myself yet and I still came here to kill. I can pass through surfaces easily as my self is a semi-transparent layer. Dead water air and the stagnant sea. There was some paint on these hands when i found them.

The air is all saturated with smoke. I know you can see me when you look out your window. It doesn't really mean anything. Like peat soil, I'm standing in the way of the road. Cars look at me. And I forget what I'm supposed to do. Weren't you like this when you were still in your body? Some alcohol would change you, I can feel in this stomach now the way that you were. Your phone got destroyed in the water so there's no one else for now. The earth will tilt beneath us when I get sober. So you recover me. I found myself in dreams like you. The fallen trees in the forest that were incapable of decay. It's too late. The trees were all turned into ash, a fine white powder, while those grotesque tessellations of smoke replace their plumage.

The city used to be surrounded with trees. It was a part of the world. I don't know what these words still mean when I remember them. You take control at times I get too calm to follow death. Attached together, we're everything attached together. I can't really understand what you want except that missing a thumb like this is spiraling.

Your body is inconvenient. I went to your apartment when I found you and I pulled apart your strange collections. It seems you were in love, from the way that you didn't live in your room for a while. The plant there was dying. Its vines were all turning blond and brackish strands of hair, like pitiful handfuls can be clutched from a scalp. Your life was getting dismal with love.

I think that I came here to kill someone. There's signal interference. The pistol you kept in the closet, I took that out the first night and we walked around the city together. You start to understand yourself when it's losing connection. I was still damp from the fall. Still walking around there wrenched and bloody. You don't look them in the eye when there is smoke coming out of your clothes. Black smoke fills the sky at night and it turns back to white and red in the morning.

I keep walking home to your hole in the floor. The place you were disappearing. You're gone now, except those chemical reactions and you occasionally wake in the night. I need to keep drinking so I can stay in control of this terrible dream. You look at the ceiling or into the mess of green skeletons outside and keep thinking it won't be like this forever.

And everyone knows it's too late for pollution. You may as well eat the pigeons off the street. You may as well eat the rats and arthropods before the water rises. There's someone at the door. The window is broken so it's very cold in here. We talk in the surface of water that your face reflects and you try to explain yourself sometimes. I told you that we're going to kill. It doesn't seem to bother you much. It's just okay that we are going to kill someone. The world got to be like that while you were alive.

A clot of hair in the drain, that's how I describe it. I need to be inebriated to float back on the surface. The scraps of dead souls that can molder together. Spaces between, congealed tension and reconstitution. You understand it if you don't. No one thing or another. Those particles of smoke who pulled you out of the water when you died. It's not as simple as that. There isn't death.

You walk around with the body when I can't get numb anymore. He was at the grocery store again and it felt like falling under the water. The hammer from the wind that dragged you off the bridge. It was the grating in the middle that felt treacherous before. You get used to some things and then they kill you. I can't hate you like you wanted me to, and you can never want to be in love with me.

[knifeshoerpf]

He’s Home - William Nylander

Request:  Nope A/N: I finally wrote something??? Wow??? Is this a sign?? Probably not, idk. But yes here you goooooo! Warnings: swearing, nothing much more.

It’s kinda funny, but Willy’s phone buzzes with a notification from Twitter.

TSN Hockey @TSNHockey

BREAKING: The #MapleLeafs have signed F William Nylander to a six-year, $41.4M contract and he will play this season. #NHL #NylanderWatch #TSNHockey  Willy laughs, shaking his head, as the texts start to pour in.

A Matts 14:02 Fina fucking lly Mitchy 14:02 YESSSSS BOI Kappy 14:03 why do u have to b such a dramatic bitch Willy takes his time replying to the messages. He’s waiting for one in particular, but as the minutes go by and he doesn’t see your name in his notifications, his frown deepens.

It’s fine, she’s probably busy right now, he tells himself.

“Going home” is the caption Willy finally settles on. It’s short and sweet and to the point, he thinks, as he uploads the black and white image of his leafs gear bag to Instagram.

Again, there’s a swarm of comments and likes and DMs.

(There’s many DMs from girls)

But nothing from you.

Willy bites his lip, and huffs.

“Will! We gotta go, the car’s here!” His youngest sister yells from outside the house, and he snaps out of his head space.

“You're way too excited to get rid of me, huh?” He runs his hand through her hair, and picks up his bag.

“I will miss you but I miss watching you score, Willy.” She says, her face scrunched up, and he laughs.

“I’ll get right on that, then.”

“The prodigal son returns!” Kappy declares, and it reverbs in the mostly empty Pearson Airport parking lot. Willy laughs and slaps his hand against Kappy’s, pulling him into a hug. 

“Missed ya buddy,”

“Missed you too. C’mon, let’s get going.” Kappy says, and soon they’re pulling out of the parking lot.

Kappy’s chattering keeps Willy’s mind off of you, but not for long. The car they’re in passes a very familiar neighbourhood and it jolts Willy.

“So Freddie is like, ready to suplex the entire D core into the ice -- ”

“Stop! Stop stop -- stop the car! Pull over there!” Willy yells, and Kappy, bless his heart, does exactly what he asks for although extremely bewildered. Willy all but jumps out of the car and dashes into the apartment complex.

“Dude what the fuck?” Kappy asks, catching up to him as the lift doors close. Willy jabs the button for the 3rd floor. “Can’t explain now,” he says, tapping his foot against the floor of the elevator as Kappy eyes him weirdly.

The doors open, and muscle memory basically drags Willy to the white door with a lopsided gold number 6. He raps on the door, and then thinking twice, covers the peephole with his hand. 

Just in case.

“Are we robbing someone?” Kappy whispers, and Willy has to do a double-take. “What the f -- yeah, we’re robbing someone, that’s why I fucking knocked --”

The door swings open and the two boys straighten up.

Willy’s thankful he covered the peephole, because the moment you make eye contact with him, the smile on your face drops and you slam the door in his face.

Well. Not exactly the reception he’s been waiting for.

He knocks again.

“Go away!” Your voice comes through, and Willy shakes his head.

“Kappy really has to pee!” he yells back, and said man turns to look at him, eyebrows raised and mouthing several swear words.

The door opens slightly, just enough distance for your face. You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah dude, Kappy really has to pee and you know how far my house is -- we’re not gonna make it and you know we can’t just go into a mall without getting mobbed. Please?” You turn to Kappy, who slowly nods. “Yes, please let me in before I...pee myself.” He says to you, face devoid of any and all emotion.

You sigh, covering your face with your hand, and open your door fully. Kappy utters a quick thank you and enters, and you point him in the direction of your bathroom. Willy steps in, shutting the door behind him.

There’s an awkward silence that fills the room once Kappy leaves. You turn, about to retreat into the kitchen when Willy speaks up.

“So, I’m back! In case you didn’t notice, haha.” You level him with a stare and he stops smiling. Rolling your eyes, you turn away to go back to your work.

“Babe come on, say something?” Willy says, and you face him, arms crossed.

“Say what, Willy? You made your feelings very, very fucking clear when you told me I was ‘not that important right now’ a week ago, remember?” You shoot back, venom in your voice, and he winces.

“Okay in my defense I was worried about the whole signing thing, okay? And I just had a lot on my plate --” Willy starts, running his hand through his hair when you cut in.

“I don’t care. I think it’s because you’re not that important to me right now.” You reply, and his eyes widen. It’s a second before he gets the reference, before he sees your point, but in that moment hearing you say he wasn’t important crushed him. And he gets it.

He reaches forward and touches your arms. You move to turn away, but he just steps towards you and holds you.

“Hey,” He starts, his voice quiet. “Hey, just look at me, yeah babe?”

His soft voice, him calling you babe, him being here after months and months of not seeing him -- its all too much. Fuck, you missed him so fucking much and to think, if this was happening just a week ago, you’d both be all over each other and over the moon. Except you’d called him and he’d been so curt. And when you started needling he’d just snapped. Fuck. Your eyes start tearing and you start crying, shoulders shaking.

“Babe, babe, babe, fuck c’mere,” Willy soothes, pulling you into him and you go, all the fight in you gone. He tucks your head under his chin and holds you tight. “I’m so fucking sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry I spoke to you like that. I just -- there was so much going on and I was just so fucking scared and nervous and done and you asked me when I was coming back and -- I don’t know, I just lost it. I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I’m so sorry I spoke to you like that. I love you, okay? I really do. And you’re always, always gonna be important to me, I swear.” Willy presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you nod.

You pull away from him, and he wipes your tears off your face. You finally take a good look at him - his hair’s longer than you remember, his face is scruffy, but his eyes still have that look in them that you know is just for you.

“I missed you, you fucking asshole,” You say, smiling, and he laughs.

“I missed you too, babe.” He says, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek. Impatient, you tip toe and lean in, pressing your lips to his. Holding your face, Willy presses into you, deepening the kiss, and you throw your arms around him. You’d missed this so much, you’d missed him, and nothing was going to take him away from you for a long while and that thought --

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

You jolt away from Willy, who still chases your lips until you shove him away. He groans.

“I’m done fake-peeing! You’re welcome, by the way,” Kappy shoots at Willy, and then turns to you. “Hi, you look like a really sweet and wonderful girl. Can you tell me what the fuck! Is going on!” He half-yells, and you open your mouth ready to...you’re not even sure what, but Willy steps in.

“Kappy...this is Y/N. She’s my girlfriend.”

“You...have a girlfriend...and why have I literally never heard of any of this?” Kappy asks, eyes wide, and Willy looks at you. You shrug, smiling.

“Because it’s new -- ”

“How new?”

“We met 2 months before I left for Sweden, dude.”

“Holy shit, that’s new.”

“Yeah,” Willy says in a ‘duh’ tone that gets a chuckle out of you, before continuing. “That’s why I didn’t say anything about her to anyone. Not even my parents, or Alex -- ”

“Uh -- ” You cut in, and the boys turn to you. “Alex -- your brother -- he, uh, he knows.”

Willy blinks. “What? No he doesn’t, I didn’t tell him anything -- ”

You cover your face with your hands. “I called you once late at night and he picked up cause you were out. And uh -- well. He knew I was...not just a friend.”

Both the boys look confused and you sigh. Fuck. “I may or may not have said some really inappropriate things the moment he picked up, okay?”

Kappy bursts out laughing, and Willy’s eyes are wide. “I was horrified and I told him not to tell you. Can we just -- can we move on?” You say, praying for a sinkhole to open up below you to swallow you up so you wouldn’t have to deal with both of the guys laughing at you. “Yeah -- wait,” Kappy starts, pausing to laugh a little more, before continuing. “I’m happy for you, both of you. But holy shit, William, if you ever make me wait in a random person’s fucking bathroom “fake-peeing” while you make out with your girlfriend again, I’m going to undo your contract and send you back to Sweden myself.”

[ichoseperdition]

Ideas I’d love to see implemented in the next Mass Effect Andromeda game/s.

Some of these are sooo unrealistic, but I can dream right?? :)

CHILDREN: Lots of them, of every race. I’d love to see a Salarian tugging on their mum’s arm because they want to hold their baby sibling who’s swimming around in a fish bowl. Krogan kids running around New Tuchanka and the nexus, getting piggy back rides from their dads. Little Asari and Turians running around playing tag with each other, while one uses her biotics to cheat. Hanar kids teaching humans to swim. Quarian bubbles rolling around all over the place. Drell riding on the backs of their Elcor friends. Baby Batarians being pushed around in futuristic buggies. I need cute little moments like that. Children would add sooo much immersion to the world.

PROTHEANS: They were such an advanced race I’m sure that at least some of them would have come up with the whole leaving the galaxy idea. Maybe they journeyed to a different cluster within Andromeda but passed through Heleus? One of their ships was forced off course after a rouge faction ulterred its course back in Prothean space and crashed on a planet that still remains undiscovered by the kett, angara and the Initiative. The intact stasis pods revived the Protheans within them, but only after they ran out of power? The inhabitants weren’t scientists thus didn’t know how to replicate space faring technology and also fared that the reapers may have followed them, so they abolished star flight all together and made their own nomadic civilization. I’m just hanging out to see more of that race to be honest especially the females.

OUTPOSTS AND AREAS FROM THE FIRST GAME: We spent so long setting up these outposts I’d love to see how they have ended up as well as the other areas we helped mold.

- New Tuchunka. Due to the fact they have the Drive core I’m thinking the outpost would develop quite quickly. I’m imagining three cylindrical districts with deep caves and buildings built into the inside walls of the sinkholes, avoiding the sun. The first as a water storage and farming district with football sized caves carved into the rock with farms inside. The second as a housing and leisure district with apartments and family homes, as well as communal gardens and parks. The third as an entertainment and financial district with bars and shops selling lots of Krogan goods. I’m thinking lots of balconies and overhanging plants etc in all three districts. The original outpost on top is set up as a Krogan historical and science centre making information about the old Krogan and the original Tuchanka accessible to everyone as well as an effort to cure the Genophage. Initiative outpost spreads out further North west up on to the hill.

- The Flophouse. Re purposed as a water treatment center and general eco science facility aimed at supporting and maintaining all the eco systems of the currently occupied worlds and provide water to the whole district.

-  Prodromos. Original site three has been turned into a memorial garden and pond as a testament to those who lost their lives at site 1 and 2. A big art installation where the beacon was originally placed has been erected. Prodromos itself has been moved up to The Sheartop with buildings and balconies overhanging the edge of the settlement overlooking site 3 memorial gardens. Sites 1 and 2 have been re-opened. Site one has been turned into a Krogan refuge as an attempt to bring them back into the initiative and Site two as a remnant research facility spearheaded by Peebee.

-  Taerve Uni. Due the fact there would be so much melting ice I’d love to see a half-submerged outpost. Lots of glass and exposed steel. The Kett base stripped and re purposed as the new Resistance headquarters? Frozen city unearthed and turned into a research facility?

-  Ditaeon. Lots of smaller townships littering the area around the original outpost site, with buildings no taller than 4 stories high. All buildings have gardens of local flora and rock formations atop their roofs. I’d love to see a Hospital run by Dr. Ryota Nakamoto close to the original site. The hospital would aid all Angara and Milky Way soldiers injured in the fight against the Kett plus the development of his penicillin.

- Pelaav research station. Many initiative scientists are sent there to learn more about Havarl itself and a massive collective effort has been put in place to learn more about the Angara and the remnant. No milky way structures are present on the planet as a way to show respect for Havarls heritage. Floating science facility? Science labs in orbit?

- Port Meridian. Opened up for Angaran settlement. Those wanting to live on Aya can now bring their families to live on meridian. Large human settlement around the crash site of the Hyperion. Libraries, science facilities, lounges and other forms of human entertainment. Peebee lives there and spends 24 hours a day studying remnant?

- Ryder-1. Alec Ryder memorial. Large cave settlements?

- Nexus. Fully realized. Heleus plants now grow on it. Moshae Sjefa now lives on it. All races including the Krogan now have a place in its arms. Morda has a home there as she is the interim ambassador to the Nexus in my save game. Nexus is moved periodically to keep it away from the Kett.

- Arks. All except the Hyperion are repaired and docked on the nexus. They travel between the nexus and the golden worlds when needed. OR the Natanus is over run by what’s left of the Outcasts after the nexus rescues all other surviving Turians. Becomes the new Omega station?

TWIN GAME PLAY: I loved the scene where you get to play as your sibling I think that’s a really cool dynamic. Working as part of a family team. It would be cool if your main Ryder did the pathfinder thing while the other sibling did minor missions throughout your story. Let’s say your pathfinder is set off on a mission to go and help a newly found Angaran settlement. On your way to the system instead of it being a loading screen you now play as your sibling on a visit to one of the old outposts from the first game, or you’re asked to help out a Salarian on the nexus. Or you can request your sibling to help you with things via vidcom. Ring them up and request they visit a certain area then bam!! you’re there doing the work, playing as them helping the initiative.

MORE SQUAD MATES:

I’m thinking ME2 amount of squad mates.

MORE ALIEN ROMANCE OPTIONS: Give me a serious Krogan romance option. If Rorik is anything to go by not all Krogan are alien hating brutes. Let me bang a Batarian, snuggle with a Hanar and make out with Drell. I play Mass Effect games for the Aliens, not the humans. If you can’t give me more alien love, then let me see it through NPC’s. A kick ass lesbian Krogan couple would be PERFECT!!

MORE KETT INFO: Origins of the other exalted races. Were they from Andromeda or from further away? Where is Sarhesen?

WHAT DO THE JARDAAN LOOK LIKE, REMNANT MASS RELAYS: Did they have a galaxy wide network? Are they just AI?

CULTURAL DEFERENCES IN MILKY WAY RACES: I think Andromeda presents Bioware with a real opportunity to expand on the narrative of the different races. I don’t believe for second that all Batartians are the same when there are billions of them! I feel like these outliers would be the ones who would want to travel to Andromeda so please show me some. They don’t have to abide by their race rules anymore. Even if all Batarians are the same, some must realise they don’t need to be anymore? That goes for all races too.

MORE RACE VI’s IN THE CULTURAL EXCHANGE: Show me a Quarian VI, one that’s so unsure of itself because Quarian’s aren’t meant to like virtual intelligence and it knows that. An Elcor VI that recites Shakespeare. A Vorcha VI that just insults you or a broken Volus VI that just breathes in.

NORMAL CLOTHES, SKIN: Krogan in Singlets. Krogan in shorts. Krogan in flip flops. The Bioware team did a good job with the facial textures for the Alien races I’d love to see the rest of them. Some of them must have time out of their armour and full body suites. An example would be A turian working on a space ship in the hot sun with no shirt on, a merchant in New Tuchanka with more exposed clothing to combat the heat or a Batarian going for a swim.

A SECRET TERMINUS SYSTEMS ARK: I just like the idea that the government of one of the Terminus and or annexed races found out about the Initiative and sent their own custom ark made from stolen specs. Raoli, Virtual Aliens, Yahg, Vorcha and Rachni. I just loved those races and selfishly want them back.

SMALLER THINGS: - More then one face model for Asari and Angara. Like I mean seriously? - Better writing… - Depth to settlements, growth not just WHAM and there is a settlement. - Characters from Annihilation

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot “Top of the Pyramid” (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Kurt can't reach his parents for their traditional good luck hug, Sebastian and Blaine lend Kurt a hand up.

... Or a foot up. (1369 words)

Warning for Blaine friendly because God forbid ...

Part 59 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“They’re not here … they’re not here …” Kurt paces the outskirts of the ice, on the brink of hyperventilating. “I have fifteen minutes before I have to warmup. Fifteen! They said they’d be here and they’re not here. Why aren’t they here!?”

“Of course, they’re gonna be here,” Sebastian says, pacing beside Kurt with Blaine not far behind. “They said they were pulling off the highway half an hour ago, so that means they’re here … somewhere.” Sebastian scans the stands in search of Kurt’s parents. He honestly believes what he says, but he wishes they could dress in head to toe neon, or send off a flare. Or carry a banner that says, “Go Team Hummel!” Something to set them apart from the rest of the parka wearing crowd.

“They could be in the parking lot,” Blaine adds. “This place is pretty packed. It’s probably just taking them a while to find seats.”

“Blaine’s right,” Sebastian says with a considerable amount of pain. “You need to calm down.”

“Your folks wouldn’t lie to you, Kurt.”

“Yes, they would!” Kurt throws his hands in the air, dropping them on his hair in frustration, but he stops short of pulling when he remembers he needs to go on soon. He can’t ruin his look. He won’t have time to fix it. “They’d lie to me if they didn’t want me to worry! If they were stuck in traffic or … or …” Kurt stops pacing, breathing too quickly, his lips quivering, on the verge of passing out.

“Listen to me …” Sebastian takes Kurt by the shoulders and looks into his eyes. “I know that last year at this same competition, your mom was sick. But not this time. I promise.”

“H-how do you know?” Kurt stutters his words, his eyes watering. “How do you know for sure?”

Sebastian sighs. He doesn’t know, and Kurt doesn’t either. There’s literally a .01% chance of Kurt’s mom’s cancer coming back, and Kurt knows that. But when he gets stressed out like this, that slim percentage might as well be a certainty. After she went into remission, Kurt’s mom swore that hell or high water, he wouldn’t go on the ice for a major competition without a hug from her, and so far she’s kept her promise.

This might be the one time she doesn’t come through for him, but that wouldn’t be her fault. Why the hell this one competition suddenly became so damned popular, Sebastian doesn’t understand. It’s good for Kurt overall. He deserves the exposure. But at the moment, it’s sure inconvenient.

Sebastian wishes he could call them up and put Kurt’s mind at ease, but this area beside the ice is a cell phone sinkhole. Neither he nor Kurt nor Blaine have any bars at all.

“Hey! Hey, guys! Hey! Kurt! Sebastian! Blaine!”

Sebastian’s eyes flick up at the sound of voices calling their names, a sound that nearly gets swallowed by the static from the crowd. It doesn’t seem that Kurt or Blaine heard it at all.

“Hey! Over here!”

Sebastian squints ahead and up to the level above them and sees a familiar pair of red plaid jackets weeding through the crowd, heading their way. He smiles, overwhelmed with relief. “Because they just walked in.”

Kurt’s head snaps up. He looks over his shoulder, and like a moth to a flame, he finds his parents immediately.

“Mom!” he yells, spinning around and waving frantically. “Dad!” Kurt looks left and right, trying to find a staircase to the next level, but this venue isn’t like most that they perform in. Instead of having stairs facing the ice, everything is down a tunnel and behind. With the crowd closing in, waiting for the next event, Kurt’s event, there’s no way he’d be able to cut through, run upstairs, and reach them in time.

“They’re too far away,” he says, watching them push their way to the railing, his mom reaching down a hand in the hopes of touching her son. “I’m not going to get my good luck hug. I’ll never get to them in time.”

Sebastian looks around them for a chair or a step ladder. There’s a handful around, but nothing tall enough to lift him to the next level. He needs something at least as tall as he is to get him up there, and the venue doesn’t keep anything like that around.

“Oh yes you are,” Sebastian says, coming up with a solution. “Blaine, grab a skate.”

“Gotcha, coach.”

“What …?” Kurt stares in confusion as his boyfriend and his best friend crouch down at his feet. “What are you guys doing?”

“You’re a cheerleader, right?” Sebastian asks.

“Was.”

“Were you ever the top of the pyramid?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re gonna be now. On the count of three, put those core muscles to work. One …”

“Guys …”

“Two …”

“I’m not sure about this …”

“Three!”

Sebastian and Blaine start to lift leaving Kurt no other option than to cooperate, putting one hand on their shoulders and sucking in his stomach to center his weight between them. They hoist him to chest level, which is terrifying enough, but then Sebastian says, “Up you go!” and both boys extend their arms in unison, raising him up the rest of the way. Above their heads, Kurt jerks backwards, and the few people looking on gasp. Thrusting his arms out to his sides, he manages to find his balance, and straightens to his full height. Blaine is slightly shorter than Sebastian, the reach of his arms an inch or two lower, so Kurt isn’t completely level, but he’s roughly six feet in the air, held aloft solely by his skates.

Kurt never performed aerial stunts during his time on the McKinley High School Cheerios not because he was a sub-par cheerleader. Far from it. And not because he was a boy, since their coach would put anyone in the air if they were light enough to lift and could jump high.

And Kurt could definitely jump.

Kurt never did aerial stunts because he was terrified of heights. Plus, he didn’t trust too many people to keep him safe in the air, definitely not those vapid girls from his school. Kurt trusts Sebastian and Blaine, but he’s still scared. Fear for his life would paralyze him if his mom and dad weren’t there in front of him, reaching out for him, their arrival erasing over an hour’s worth of anxiety.

“Hey there, kiddo!”

“Mom! Dad!”

Kurt lunges for his parents, swaying too far forward too fast. Sebastian looks up, afraid he’s about to tumble, readjusting his stance to compensate for Kurt’s change in direction. When he’s confident Kurt won’t fall, he looks over at Blaine to make sure he’s got a secure grip. He catches Blaine’s gaze returning from overhead, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth holding back a grin. All concern regarding Kurt’s safety gone, Sebastian glares daggers at the boy holding Kurt’s left boot.

“Were you checking out my boyfriend’s ass!?”

“What?” Blaine’s face goes sickly pale and he shudders, forcing himself, under scrutiny, to hold tighter to Kurt’s skate so he doesn’t drop him. “Me? No! No no no no no … no!”

“You better not be.”

“I wasn’t! I swear!”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, wholly unconvinced, “well … stop smiling so much then. It makes you look suspicious.”

“Hey!” a passing Coach Beiste interrupts, patting both boys carefully on the shoulder so as not to upend Kurt.

“Hey, coach.”

“Hey.”

“I saw you guys on the jumbo-tron and I thought I’d stop by.”

“Great,” Sebastian groans. He thought his boyfriend deserved more exposure, but he didn’t exactly mean this.

Beiste looks Sebastian and Blaine over, both braced for dear life, then up at Kurt, hugging his mom and dad without a care in the world, and chuckles. “How ya guys holdin’ up?”

“Pretty good.” Blaine tightens his hold on Kurt’s skate without looking up again. “How about you, Sebastian? You good?”

“Meh.” Sebastian grunts, readjusting his own grip slightly, thinking he should tell Kurt to wave to the cameras before they lower him to the ground. “Just another exciting day on Team Hummel.”

[myotishia]

In the air part one

Fandom: Torchwood. Trigger warnings: None I don't think but tell me if I've missed anything. Characters: Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Elise Carter (oc) Rating: Teen and up

Blurb: A relaxed wedding dress fitting turns into a new case for the team as the streets are suddenly abandoned.

“How does your leg feel?” Asked Owen as he pulled on his gloves.

Elise shrugged and pulled up the side of her skirt to show her bandaged thigh. “Sore as hell, but no more than I’d expect. How long until I can put weight on it properly?”

“You were lucky, it didn’t hit the bone or any major blood vessels so you can maybe put your full weight on it again in a week or so. I was more worried about the chance of infection.”

“I tried to keep it away from the mud.”

“You did pretty well, but gunshot wounds are a bitch. Even clean shots that are treated immediately can get infected and that’s how you end up in surgery.” He removed the bandage and dressing as gently as he could, happy that the wound looked clean.

“How is it?”

“Your leg’s going to drop off.”

She rolled her eyes. “Asshat.”

“It’ll be fine, just keep it clean and dry. I’ll redress it for you this time.”

“Thanks. How are you?”

“Me? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“A guy almost killed you.”

“And you shot him in the hip. Keep still.” He continued treating her thigh, knowing that it must be hurting. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me.”

“That’s scary in itself.”

“Tosh said your watch was broken.”

“I’ll fix it after we’re done here.” She took it from her wrist, turning it over in her hands. “The casing and screen look fine. The fall probably just knocked a wire out of place.”

“I didn’t think you’d still need it.”

A short silence filled the room, neither party wanting to speak about her missing friend.

“I’m still going to have the dreams or whatever they are. My weirdness isn’t completely gone.”

“You sound sure of that.”

“I am. Time travel comes at a price. I’m ok with that.”

He looked up from his work. “You think you can still time jump?”

“Only twenty four hours either way, at most, but it’s something. I don’t know the distance I can go yet.”

“You shouldn’t use it. You don’t have someone who knows how to control it anymore.” Owen had never looked more serious in his life. “Just let it go and be human for a while.”

“Are you worried about me?”

“Of course I am!” He snapped, throwing his gloves into the bin.

Elise sat up and reached out for his arm. “Owen… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

“Just leave it... You’re going to be on desk duty for a while. You’ve got to write up your report about the Pharm anyway.”

“Owen… When I’m all healed up would you mind training me to be a proper field agent?”

“Me? You realise I’m the Hub fuck up. You might want to go to Jack for that.” He smirked.

“You’re reckless, stubborn and trigger happy... but that’s what makes you good at what you do. I know I run into things and just say fuck it to the risks but I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t.”

“We’ll talk about it once you’re healed, for now you’ve got paperwork to do. And tell Tosh her girlfriend’s crazy.”

“Will do.” She smiled.

Ianto placed Elise’s morning coffee on her desk. “I hope you’re going to be better than Owen was on desk duty.”

“Oh?”

“Have you ever seen the shining?”

“Really? That bad?”

“Luckily an axe won’t put a dent on most of the doors here. It only ended when he cut the cast off his leg and told us that if he didn’t go out soon he’d start posing bodies around the Hub out of boredom. I believed him.”

She laughed into her mug. “I promise I won’t go posing bodies around the place.”

“If you want to get some fresh air tomorrow I’ve got a wedding dress fitting to get to. You can come along if you like. You’ll probably do a lot of sitting around but it’s better than being stuck here.” Smiled Gwen, finally able to think about her wedding in the quiet moment.

“Thanks. That sounds fun. I’ve never even seen a wedding dress in real life before.”

Both Ianto and Gwen looked a little shocked.

“What? I’ve never been to a wedding and we didn’t have a bridal wear shop anywhere near where I lived.”

Gwens look softened, returning to her previous excitement. “You are going to have so much fun. I’ve got some cake samples to pick up too.”

“What makes wedding cake different than other cake? I know it’s fancier but what makes it specifically a wedding cake?”

“Normal cake goes off after a week. Wedding cake seems to last forever and can be used to build bomb shelters.” Ianto said drily before returning to his duties with a smile.

“Oh, don’t listen to him. It’s mostly just because it’s fancy but I really want it to actually be edible.”

“How is Rhys?”

“He’s fine. Taking everything in his stride as per usual. He’s not as paranoid now he knows what I actually do.”

“That’s fair.”

“Though I think he’s still a bit iffy with Jack.”

“Also fair. I don’t think he knows the difference between casual conversation and flirting.”

“Sooo, how’s things between you and Tosh?”

“Good. Really good.”

“She does seem so much happier than before. It’s nice.”

After a very entertaining dress fitting that reminded Gwen that she needed to eat even if she was stressed they headed out. Elise being a little slow as she moved with one crutch. On the street it seemed eerily silent. As it was lunch time it should have been bustling but only the birds made a noise. Workers from the surrounding shops looked out of their windows, just as confused. Gwens police instincts kicked in when she saw a car with its doors left open, shopping bags left abandoned in the road.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Said Gwen before rushing across the road to one of the opposing shops to talk to one of the staff. They seemed in shock.

“What happened out there?” She asked, trying to seem like just any other person walking onto the scene.

The worker, a young man who wore a lanyard around his neck emblazoned with the stores name, just shook his head. “I… I don’t know. Everyone just started walking down the street. All at once… They just turned and walked off like zombies.”

“Did you hear anything strange? See anything?”

“No. I was putting the new posters up in the window and it was like someone flicked a switch… Is it one of those flash mob things do you think?”

“No idea… Thanks.” She returned to Elise who was leaning on the bridal stores wall.

“He see anything?”

“Apparently everyone just turned and walked off down the street.”

“Should we follow?”

“Get in the car. We can call it in on the way.”

Elise took her phone from her pocket and got into the car, dialling into the comms line for the Hub.

“Having fun ladies?” Jacks voice rose from the device.

“Having a blast, just a quick question, is the rift doing it’s happy dance?” Elise asked.

“We’ve had a few spikes, why?”

“Well, everyone on the street got pied pipered a few minutes ago.”

“Any idea where they’re heading?”

“We’re following now.”

“Don’t get too close. We’re on our way.” He hung up the call.

Ahead of the car a large crowd walked in unison, seemingly in a trance. Gwen repeatedly pressed the horn but they didn’t even flinch. She parked up to the side and took her comms earpiece from the glove compartment.

“Wait here. I’m going up ahead.” She said, not waiting for a response.

Elise opened her door and pulled herself out. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to look.” She rushed off ahead of the entranced people.

They all seemed to be converging on a car park outside a large garden centre. Due to it being closed that day there were no cars but as Gwen managed to push her way through the sea of people she saw where they were all going. A large sinkhole had formed, dropping into darkness. The people around her stood around the edge, unmoving. No matter what she did she couldn’t wake anyone.

As sudden as it had began, it ended. All at once people began looking around, confused before a panic broke out at being that close to the edge of the sinkhole. People scattered in all directions and Gwen had to admit she was a little thankful for being on the inside so she didn’t get trampled.

Jack looked over the edge of the now sixteen foot wide sinkhole, light hitting a perfectly flat obsidian surface below. The whole car park had been cordoned off with temporary plywood walls, usually used to keep people out of construction sites, much to the displeasure of the Garden centres manager.

“At least it’s stopped.” Jack turned away from the hole. “What do we know?”

“Fuck all.” Owen began.

Tosh interjected, “Noone remembers anything. One moment they were in one place and then they woke up here. Though whatever it was didn’t seem to affect anyone in a building when it started. There was a spike in rift energy but nothing big enough for this.”

“How far did it span?” The captain stepped away from the edge.

“A mile radius of the holes centre.”

“Sounds like we’re going to have to get down there.” He picked up a nearby rock and tossed it into the hole. It landed with a light tap and skittered across the obsidian surface as if it were ice.

Ianto and Elise had been sent to speak to the Garden centre manager and sat in the womans sparse office.

“This is all I need. This whole place has been falling apart since last Sunday.”

“Falling apart?” Asked Ianto, keeping detailed notes as the woman had spoken chaotically before and it was easier to keep up with what she was on about in bullet points.

“Yes! First every last fuse in this place blew. Even the ones in the plugs. Then my staff start calling in sick. They didn’t sound bloody sick. Then we had a new palette of apple tree saplings just shrivel and rot overnight for no reason. Same day we had a flock of pigeons slam themselves into the building in the middle of the bloody day. We had kids screaming and crying and noone wanted to clean that mess up. Then! As if it couldn’t get worse the water has to be turned off because some bloody thing’s in it. Do you know how much water a garden centre needs to keep running?!”

“Ma’am… Can we see the water please? And the apple trees if you still have them.”

“As long as you get that sinkhole filled in you can do what you like.”

“Well, if you could show my colleague here I can gather my things to get some samples.”

“Yes. Yes. Maybe you’ll get more than that useless plumber did.”

The manageress lead them down to the main warehouse and Ianto quickly walked back to the SUV to grab some gloves and sample jars. When he returned the manager was still complaining at Elise.

“It’s everywhere in the building and god the smell!”

“I’m sure we’ll find the source ma’am.” Elise droned, barely paying attention.

“Oh good, you’re back. Here.” The woman turned the tap and a black, oily looking liquid started pouring out. Ianto had just taken the sample when the smell hit them. It stank like rancid meat with a heavy tint of iron. The manageress ran off to throw up in one of the bins.

Elise turned off the tap. “Jesus. Did something die in their water tank?”

“They don’t have a water tank. This is from the mains.” He held the small plastic jar up to the light but even the relatively bright sunshine couldn’t permeate the liquid.

“I don’t now if it’s the water or the bigass hole out there but this place gives me the creeps.”

He had to admit the place, though otherwise completely mundane, did make him nervous. A creeping dread that rose up his spine and made him want to jump at every sound. He looked around for the dead saplings as the manageress was still hunched over a bin. In the corner of the warehouse, nearest the loading bay, sat a palate of potted saplings. Each was withered and mould had started to develop on the surface of the soil. Using a set of clippers and a hand trowel he took samples from one of the pots, the same smell that came from the tainted water oozed from the cuts on the plant. Ianto stood back as his stomach turned.

Elise made her way over to the exhausted looking manageress. “We’ve got what we need. We’ll contact you as soon as we know more. Why don’t you head home. It’s not safe to work around tainted water.”

The poor woman nodded.

Outside, Ianto took a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air. He still couldn’t shake the nervous feeling.

“You feel as out of sorts as I do?” Asked Elise, sitting in the back seat of the SUV with her arm over her eyes.

“Do you think it was the water?”

“We didn’t even touch it.”

Ianto paused before an idea came to mind. He leaned over to one of the computers, setting up a sound sensor to monitor all frequencies.

Elise pulled her arm away from her eyes. “What’s up?”

He looked over the levels on the screen. “Infrasound.”

“Huh?”

“It’s very low frequency sound, anything below 20Hz. Not audible by humans. It’s usually used for underground monitoring because it doesn’t disperse the way higher frequencies do.  It can cause nausea, paranoia, nervousness and in the worst cases, hallucinations. A lot of ghost sightings come from it.”

“Is that why we feel like crap?”

“Looks that way. It doesn’t explain the water though.”

“Do you think that’s what made the birds dive into the building?”

“Maybe but I don’t think so. It can mess with their directional mapping but it doesn’t make whole flocks suicidal… I’m going to go and tell the others.”

“I’m gonna stay here and rest.” She put her arm back over her eyes. “So much for desk duty, eh?”

Owen stepped down onto the obsidian surface, double checking his safety line just in case it collapsed. Jack had already ventured down into the sinkhole but Owen had been fooled before by Jacks oddly catlike grace. The sinkhole was unusual in that the walls didn’t have any kind of overhang. It had fallen away and left what looked like carved walls of earth. Walking across the glasslike surface it became clear that whatever it might be was hollow.

“Can you see any sign of a hatch?” He asked, finding it hard to focus his vision on the light absorbing stone.

“Not a thing.” The captain crouched down, running his fingers over the surface, hoping to feel more than he could see. He suddenly pulled back, a sharp pain shooting through his fingertips. A thin line of blood dripped from each finger and down onto the floor where it was absorbed. A loud rumbling filled the area and Jack turned to run back to the ladder.

“Out now!” He ordered.

Owen did not need telling twice, clambering up like a frightened ape. As soon as his feet were on secure earth he turned to make sure Jack was right behind him. The previously flat surface was becoming an upside down pyramid made of many steps. Starting at the centre each layer descended, threatening to pull Jack down to what he guessed would be a very nasty, if temporary, death. He reached out and grabbed the ladder that was thankfully secured from above and wrenched himself up. His cut fingers sliding but thankfully not dropping him. Ianto and Owen took a wrist each and pulled him up and out of the sinkhole.

“The fuck was that?!” Asked Owen, looking back at where he’d been standing.

Jack looked down at his hand, at the paper fine cuts that decorated his fingertips.

Owen took a swift trip back to the hub with Elise, wanting to test the samples that Ianto had gathered. He could only do a certain amount in the field and the this had stopped being an oddity and started being a very dangerous case.

The ‘water’ sample showed traces of blood, grey matter and microscopic bone fragments, all slowly rotting. The blood, though decomposing and tainted did present as a mix of human and animal. The apple tree sapling cuttings were rotten on the outside but the very centre showed new growth, soaking up the tainted water from its soil. Even the mould sitting on the surface of the soil showed signs of death and regrowth.

“The thing is drinking people?” Asked Elise from a safe distance.  

“It looks more like the liquid’s being pumped into the plant to change it.”

“That still sounds like a vampire plant.”

Owen suddenly stepped back from his work, switching on his comms awkwardly with his shoulder. “You all need to get away from there. It needs to be quarantined. Everything that’s been tainted already needs to be quarantined too. That includes you Harkness!” He turned to Elise. “Did you touch anything?”

“No. Ianto took the samples and he was wearing gloves. But the garden centre staff did.”

“Shit! Get a list of their staff. They need to be isolated. Call it a possible biological weapon. We’ve got a building we can use as a hospital. I need to know how many people have already been infected.”

When Torchwood is in a full outbreak alert they work shockingly quickly.  They’d already rounded up many of the staff and they did not look healthy. Owen tested himself for infection before the others even got back and after a very fast decontamination shower he pulled on a hazmat suit and got to work on his team. Elise, Ianto, Tosh and Gwen were all clean and had to go through the same process. Jack was not so lucky. His fingertips were already showing signs of infection. Owen suspected it was working faster on him as it had infected his blood directly.

He was taken to the ‘hospital’ and given a room, not arguing as he knew Owen wouldn’t do all this without a very serious reason.

“Owen, what’s this going to do to me?” he asked, no longer able to move his hand.

“It kills its host and then brings them back with that meat sludge in the pipes. Maybe your body will be able to fight it off but…”

“It’s ok. I understand. I’m leaving this up to you.”

Owen replied with a nod and Jack resigned himself to staying where he was. The infection was spreading too fast for him to fight and he just hoped that when he came back it would be gone. He lay down and tried not to think about the burning sensation rising up his arm. At least Owen would have a test subject. Owen leant on the wall outside of the room, reflecting on what a disaster this had all become. He hated the idea but he might have to call in UNIT for help. No, not yet. They might try and blow up the obsidian structure and spread it even further. He needed to know what would happen to a mammal at the point of death and he hated the idea of using Jack.

Gwen watched the infected rat plod lethargically around its tank. She felt so sorry for the creature that was obviously in pain, its tail blackened and bone exposed. If it hadn’t been a pandemic level issue even Owen may have put it down by this point. The rodent stopped and fell onto its side.

“Owen... “

He’d asked her to call him at the moment the animal passed. Under the hazmat suit he looked haggard, trying to keep all of his patients from rioting out of fear. A screen next to the tank showed that the rats heart and brain function had stopped. It was then that it twitched.

Gwen jumped at the movement but even she knew that random electrical signals can do that to a body just after death. What didn’t usually happen was the body getting back onto its feet. The dead rat moved to the side of the tank, testing where it was before backing up and ramming the side. The tank was undamaged but the creature continued trying to ram into the side. Owen signaled for Gwen to move to the other side of the table with him. The rat changed its trajectory. It was actively trying to get to them.

“It’s a... “ Gwen began.

“Don’t say it… Make sure anyone that gets too far gone is restrained out there.”

Twenty hours had passed since the people out in the street had been drawn to the sinkhole and the virus was mostly contained but as Tosh looked up from her power nap her stomach dropped. The tv she’d left on for some white noise played a news report. It was happening again and this time people were carrying meat and livestock towards the obsidian pit. The entranced people crashed through the cordon as if it weren’t even there and lead the animals onto the steps. Each edge seem to slice through the creatures like a knife. Those caught under its spell were feeding it. She shot up to report what the news had been showing, rushing past Jacks room. She stopped for a moment and looked over at the captain. He was pale, hunched over and holding his head.

“Jack?”

He looked up with unfocused eyes, agony etched into his face. “Calling… It’s calling… Won’t stop…”

“The pit?” She dared take a step into the room.

“It wants food… powers it… Machine… Controls… us.”

“It’s a machine? What does it do? Jack?” Another step closer.

“Heart… It... a heart…”

Another step. She was pulled sharply back by Ianto as Jack lunged for her. He pulled her out of the room and locked Jack inside. Jack roared and slammed his fists against the door, unable to fight the infection any longer.

“I heard him too. Come on.” Ianto said, finally releasing his grip on his coworker.

They ran to report what they’d been told and Jacks condition, trying to think of some way to end all this.

Ianto and Gwen pulled on their body armor and respirators before heading towards the pit. Covered head to toe in kevlar they moved towards the centre, diamond bladed saw in hand. Sparks shot into the air as the saw cut into the stone. In retaliation the pit began to rise and flatten itself out again as if that would protect it from the blade. The chunk of rock finally fell through, landing with an earth shattering boom. No going back, they descended into the structure.

The walls were smooth and as black as the exposed part had been but the floor was white, like bone. Red veins pulsed around the edges of the floor. They followed the crimson vessels deeper, finding that the smooth walls gave way to what looked like cogs, grinding dryly. Any oil having long dried up. The further they walked the more machinery clanged and screeched, louder by the moment. Many of the vessels began to converge and wind together like muscles, pulsing. Even through the respirator Ianto felt like he could smell that rancid stench that had attacked his senses from the tap.

The bundles of vessels lead into a final, huge chamber. Its walls were slick and crimson, the vessels emptying down them like a fountain. Below the pools churned and bubbled. Finally in the centre, held up like a marionette was a figure. It stood over nine feet tall and its leathery skin clung tightly to its horribly emaciated form. It looked as if it had been dead for centuries until it opened its eyes, blind and milky. It began to move with a horrible creaking and a familiar grinding from its ribcage, the pools of blood being drawn towards it. The metal tubes that snaked into its head rattled and groaned.

Back at the hospital all had gone silent but only for a moment. Every one of the infected began shrieking and trying to fight their restraints, all facing in the direction of the pit. It was so loud that Owen feared some may destroy their own vocal chords. He could just hear the awful noise of joints dislocating, under the screams, as the patients pulled their restraints with no concern for their own wellbeing.

Gwen and Ianto aimed at the huge creatures head. It looked around as if something or someone should have been running to its aid but it found itself abandoned. Both agents fired at once, each bullet leaving a perfect hole through its head that poured out more of the rotten viscera. It thrashed, only succeeding in pulling the wires that held it up from its skin, before finally falling limp. Still the cogs moved. Ianto pointed up to the creatures chest that still clanked and werred. Gwen stepped forward and gritted her teeth before grabbing onto the skin of the hanging figures abdomen, pulling as hard as she could.  The membrane tore away to reveal more gears, mummified flesh still stuck to the metal. In the very centre an obsidian core sat, turning slowly.

She moved out of the way as a very angry Ianto revved up the saw, lifting it up and pushing it as hard as he could into the core. It sparked in a shower of red and white before everything fell still.

The hospital was suddenly silent, all movement stopped and Owen hoped beyond hope that whatever had happened hadn’t killed every one of the people under his care. He was almost relieved when he heard the garden centre manageress gasping and sobbing as she looked at her dislocated wrist.

After hours spent sending people either home or to local hospitals Owen unlocked Jacks room. He looked his usual self, seemingly napping quite happily. He opened one clear blue eye and smiled.

“I think I broke the door.” He pointed to a fist sized hole in the door.

“You’re feeling better then.”

“I don’t remember anything after climbing into that sinkhole. Usually when that happens there’s alcohol involved and I don’t wake up alone.”

Gwen and Ianto got back to the hub and immediately headed to shower. Their clothing, hair and even shoes stank of rot. They both felt like there wasn’t enough soap in the world to wash it away but it was worth a try. They were separated by a wall but sound travelled well in the tiled room.  

“I could sleep for days after this.” Gwen said as she ran shampoo through her hair for the third time.

“That’s the plan. My shoulders are killing me.”

“Well you did hold that saw over your head.”

“I was annoyed.”

“Remind me to never annoy you.”

The Hub was quiet for the next three days while everyone recovered from their exhaustion. The pit was filled with concrete and paved over and life went on as if nothing had happened. That was always their best case scenario. Forgotten. A myth.

Inside the Hub was different. No one was ever really forgotten, especially when their leaving happened to coincide with an injury. Elise sighed to herself, feeling the bandage around her thigh through her trousers. The quiet in her mind had become more noticeable as the days passed and it left a dark fog in its wake. She missed their quiet conversations and always having someone there. She couldn’t let herself dwell on the matter, she had to let it go.

She stood and stretched, able to stand and limp around without her crutch, at least for a little while.

“Have you read it yet?” Asked Jack, leaning on her desk.

“Read what?”

“The letter that was left for you.”

She shook her head and sat back down in her chair. “I can’t even look at it right now. I copied it onto my own computer, my phone, a USB stick so I could whenever but… Not yet. I will, but not yet.”

“You should. It might help you.” Jack looked behind her as Owen placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Mind if I borrow this?” He asked as she jumped in surprise.

“As long as you bring her back in one piece.”

Jack took his leave.

Elise turned to look at Owen. “What do you need?”

“You looked uncomfortable and I’m bored.”

She laughed softly.

“Come on, I don’t want your aim getting rusty if I’m going to be the one blamed for training you. You should be fine standing for a bit.”

“Sounds good.” She stood and slowly limped after him.

“And when you’re healed up we need to work on your running speed.”

“I’m not that slow.”

“Tosh can run faster than you in high heels and a skirt. Yea, you are.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re all related to sodding racehorses.”

“Up your game Carter.”

“Don’t use my words.” She slapped his arm playfully.

[the-firebird69]

We have huge groups going to both of these locations and their gigantic it's 100 trillion NN and for such a small area that's way too many so we're going to limit access and we have to stop every single one of them cuz we're trying to fill in with dirt and they're trying to move houses and they're saying what the hell are you doing we're having a problem let's say you need an army here these people are not your friends said we're putting the dirt in and we're moving this houses they said okay I said what's down there they said we don't know we think it's a skillet it could be yours they said no, this is it your stuff Trump or him and his saying you eyeballing me and showing the guy from smokin aces little kid The karate uniform on, so they roll their eyes there's like this they're starting to do investigations this is huge Army parked outside of the punta Gorda and they're not on it they're beside it a giant army and it's toward a lake Okeechobee this is Ken we can probably get a condo down there having a disaster I know that's why let's move to the outside of it seriously I need to f****** apartment why is it so unclear so he said laughing just put me right here we'll move it over ourselves juice up it's got ridiculous then we can read English apartment so the army's kind of giggling a little, and this suspect something this is because of that some reason and they're trying to figure it out and they're sensing they're shooting big x-rays down you can't go deep enough and bring it out a huge machine about a hundred miles the skillet it should be there he says smoke and stuff is coming up it's working I get about a mile an hour no it's about a mile a day now it's fast it's a lot faster I thought it would be cuz you probably have to because if you do it slow it'll be like you have to rebelt like what's near you and I said oh so we're going to have to get some more dirt and big huge trucks so getting like permission or something and then saying no I said you have to or it's going to create a huge sinkhole and visible from space or next door said okay so a movie is huge trucks in like a mile long important tons of dirt in is finally working it's filling up and it's emptying and filling up an emptying and filling up an emptying this refrigerators couldn't go off so they start getting late so this is ridiculous you've got me tied into all your big huge projects so everyone knows even if they're not yours so they start laughing saying well it's the cause trouble is probably knocking on your back door cuz me and my Padre have to remain perfect strangers they see them approaching and they're going out to meet him at lake Okeechobee. Is it starting to say it maybe it's a bunch of gators it's a Giants football team not the Gators

Little war going on over there good thing it didn't get close I can your apartment right at lake o

I say we could but they won't give us any leeway in that case Ken says

What's ridiculous is you have this kid with the apartment it's attract a lot of attention this is an army out there from foreign countries kicking your ass wouldn't that be funny if they came in here and took stuff from us it was in your mess cuz you're a bunch of assholes just making noises at a very good pissing me off and yelling at each other yelling at the computer. While macs moving all these houses and buildings around we're going to move some stuff in. One of us will be an entertainment facility because it's boring as hell here I'm going to play card games good you've all sorts of stuff and we're going to move it in and he wanted to have like this video arcade and entertainment center moved in this is boring as hell here can't even get anywhere new people stuck in here putting one of those scooter shops cuz they sell everywhere and then try and put it in here if you can't we're going to put it nearby I'm going to go ahead and do it I said for Christ's sake we better be doing it we're doing that because what they say they're a bunch of assholes it'll get rid of faster so we'll go ahead and do it since we need some help here from China we see and everybody else we need to agree on this and get your stuff in while it's going good so sit with Thor and pick what you're going to put in they already did and they're doing it and I see what you're saying this is great this is finally this has been hell this people suck so bad

We're going to make them pay for it's horrible what theyare saying doing

Thor Freya

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Say You Do. || Chapter Six.

Harry:

There was a time we would share stolen kisses in the density of the night while in my car, parked outside her family house. There was a time we were so carefree, so in love that we were just falling deeper in love with each other, but now, now I am unsure of where we stand with what we have. There are no more shared kisses or glances, there is no more depth to a love that was once felt between the two of us.

I spent my life anticipating for a girl that would fill the void inside my heart, someone that would ignite a flame within my soul, someone that would make me feel things I had never grasped before. Here she is, sitting beside me, her head resting on my shoulder with a blanket draped over her, but I am not sure I know who she is anymore. Emily used to be so full of life, and her presence always poised everyone, but now I perceive a woman that doesn't even see herself the same way she used to. The eyes I fell in love with don't shine the same radiant shade they used to, the fingertips that used to grace my skin are now cold to the touch, part of me feels as if I have lost the best thing that has happened to me despite her being right beside me, curled up in the chair, her hair falling around her face, as her eyes dream tightly.

I have no idea where we went wrong, where I went wrong, I have always done my best to give her my world, to keep her comfortable and happy, but somewhere down the line, I managed to fail. Failure being something that does not settle well with me.

Every time I fool myself into thinking things will be okay, that we would be okay, there is always a downfall that screws up my train of thought and the hope casted in my mind. For every good moment, we can manage to muster up, there are at least four downfalls to soon follow.

I am at a loss. Either way, I lose.

When we first started to hit our rough patch, I thought it was just that, a rough patch, but here I am, with the love of my life beside me— the woman who I thought would love me through everything— who I am pretty sure, no longer loves me.

It is a daunting feeling to have the mental object of not being loved travelling through the mind, it emotionally drains me, and physically... well, I physically have no idea what the fuck I am doing. I fell in love with a beautiful young lady who made the gloomiest of days lucent— a woman who fell in love with me for my terrible jokes, and for everything that makes me the person I am away from the media and the fans.

Now, I don't even know how to pull the two of us from the morose sinkhole we keep sinking into. It is suffocating us both, limb by limb, breath by breath.

This journey to New York was meant to spark my career further and our relationship; I thought time in a city we both love would be enough to get us out of the woods, even if it is just an inch. I was wrong, so wrong.

All that New York managed to bring was more chaos and a furtherly more enraged Emily— who I am pretty sure is ready to sign those papers at the house— the papers that will demolish our marriage and family. I don't think there's any escaping the danger now, the damage just keeps burning radically.

I love her, I do, but I don't think either of us has the strength to continue to combat the conflicts. Moreover, I don't think she has the energy to do it anymore.

I have watched her deteriorate gradually, her smile was the first to fade, then it was the glow in her eyes that had the ability to light up a room, it was all downhill once she lost the glow in her eyes.

The first time I watched the luminosity in her eyes vanish was when she had Sophia. She had a relatively smooth pregnancy, in fact, she barely had morning sickness, thank God for that— she didn't really seem any different the first trimester— she was her usual, blissful, go-go-go self. Everything was fine until she reached the third trimester, that is when things started to get a bit iffy with her.

She was fatigued all the time, she refused to eat half the things she would make me go get at ungodly hours. Emily was always achy— no remedy would help her with the aches and pains, not to mention the only way I could get her to fall asleep was to rub her back every night and let her fall asleep on my chest.

When Emily finally had Sophia, it was a relief— she was no longer in pain and cursing me out when she had had enough of incubating our baby.

After the first few days of having our newborn home, it was then that I noticed Emily wasn't back to her normal self, she was quiet, heavy hearted, and didn't want to hold our baby much. She would crawl up in bed and not move for hours, then when she would finally move, she was still exhausted. It was back then when her eyes washed-out for the first time.

It took a while for her to regain the beautiful colour and the smile. I think for the first year Emily struggled a lot; I held the weight of her and our newborn— it was something I had to do. I made it my mission to see Emily smile again, to make our family whole, and that I managed.

Well, I thought I did.

It was whole up until two years ago.

It was nothing that either of us did, specifically. It just occurred, without much of an explanation— I started to perceive her deteriorating once again, something wasn’t right, and I didn’t have it in me to try to fix it, to mend her once more. I shrugged things off, we both did, I guess.

Our hugs and kisses got further apart, the family outings became minimal; both of us would come up with different excuses on why the other could not make the gathering at the park. Mainly, it was me making up excuses for Emily on why she could not attend the park picnic or why Emily was not able to make it to the celebratory dinner when my sister's first article became published in a magazine.

Maybe I am to blame for things; I started to put my mind towards my writing and the music I wanted to produce once I could get my solo career going.

I found my own escape, but for Emily, she struggled to find her safe haven. I was— I am— her safe haven.

We shifted away from who we were, we neglected each other. Sometimes I would take the longer route home just to take a few extra minutes to breathe. The further we drifted the more we fell into the natural depression of destruction— the further we conceded our love to wither to nothing.

Every bone in my body advised me that we needed to come back together and not ignore what was going on between us, through the smiles and the faked laughter, we were lost in our own demented version of love. But, we let ourselves glide through the cracks, we made excuses. We still, to this day, make self-justification for ourselves. perhaps that is why Emily has irrevocably given up on me, on us. perchance I am to blame.

If I had of been a better husband, perhaps things would be altered, perchance if I listened to her more, understood her more. possibly if I didn't have the career I do, things would be easier.

We are hopeless hearts passing through and I no longer know what to do.

I should have been there more, considered Emily a lot more than what I did, and do.

I love her, I do. But we proceed to spiral down a valley of devastation, one that is not healthy for either of us, particularly our child. Our little girl, who brought us so much love and hope, now has to go through such desolation.

If things continue how they are, we will have to justify to her why Mummy and Daddy are no longer living together, and why she can't have the both of us at the same time. We will have to explain that late at night when all she wants is her Mummy to hold her, she will be stuck with me because Mummy is at the other house. We will have to demonstrate that she will have to have two sets of clothes and split holidays with us. My heart breaks at the cognitive content of her going through the same heartache I once did growing up. I had my sister to rely on and to comfort me, Sophia only has Emily and I. Her only consolation in the world are about to crumble her division to pieces.

I never expected my life would turn out the way it is visioned. I thought Emily was the one, the one that would spend the rest of my life, but after today, I don't think she can even bare to look at me.

I drag myself away from my deranged thoughts as I feel the slight drop of the jet, a heavy sigh escaping my lips as I glance beside me and see Emily beginning to wake up. I can only assume the sudden inclination managed to jerk her away from her slumberous dreams. Her eyes make contact with me before they promptly flicker away, her hand pressing to the armrest as the jet dips again, a small air pocket being nothing that worries me, but for her, it is like her world is crashing around her with every decline she feels on an aeroplane.

"It is okay," I find the words mumbling from my dry lips, my hand reaching for hers but she pulls away, not wanting my touch on hers.

"Don't touch me." Her voice is sharp like a sword, slicing my heart into diminutive pieces. I groan, my eyes dropping to stare at my lap as I push the blanket off of me and I stand to my feet, my legs needing to be stretched. I stretch my arms out, the jet again drops, my hand instantly presses to my seat to keep me balanced, a heavy gasp escaping from Emily.

I catch a glimpse of her eyes, the eyes that are stone cold and full of anxiousness. I want to reassure her, I do, but it would be pointless.

"Emily, you're okay."

"Mhm, just like our marriage, huh?" She throws our marriage at me as she wearily laments, her hand tapping against the armrest, a motion she does when she is nervous.

I gulp, not sure what to say to her. I don’t want to set her off, but I don’t want her to continue in an anxious state while mid air.

"You are fine on this jet, I'd never let anything happen to you," I assure her with a dry voice, my words wanting to choke up in my throat.

She gives me a shrug. Part of me wonders if she doubts the words that I just said. I don't know what runs through that beautiful mind of hers, but I do know that we are both far from who we used to be, especially her.

The journey home was nothing short of silence; Emily refuses to say more than two words to me. The best I can do, to keep myself from snapping, is to shrug it off as her being exhausted from the flights.

The moment I step into the house, I am filled with a sense of clarity and calmness, the scent of the house fills my lungs, the character of Gemma and Sophia giggling somewhere is like a harmony to my ears. Emily follows, closing the door behind her while I make my way down the hallway and to the living room,

"Daddy!" Sophia screeches merrily, scrambling from her position on the couch and leaping straight towards me.

I engulf her in my arms, picking her up as her little arms wrap around me, "Hey Angel," I grin as she nestles into me, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. “Why aren’t you in bed?” I hum, holding her close to me while her body is clothed in her favourite onesie that she’d wear every night if we’d let her.

There is nothing better than to have my daughter in my arms and delighted to see me.

"Mummy, Mummy." Her eyes get a glimpse of Emily as she steps in, Sophia instantly wiggling against me until I put her down, allowing her to run straight to Emily without a struggle.

"Careful, Soph," I warn her, knowing she will want to bounce right into Emily, but I am not sure if Emily even has it in her to be jumped on.

I turn to my sister, walking closer to her as she gives me a faint smile, her arms extending out to me for a hug.

"Everything okay?" She whispers while I wrap my arms around her, her own arms hugging me a little tighter than usual.

With a heavy sigh, I come to terms with the fact that everything is not okay.

"No," I whisper, my voice sounding vulnerable as I try my hardest not to let it crack.

When I step back into the living room after escorting my sister to the door, I am surprised to find Sophia on the couch with a blanket, her wide eyes gleaming up at me, a quirky smile printed across her lips.

"It's past your bedtime, missy." I gently poke her side and she instantly giggles, standing to her feet, "And you know mummy doesn't like you standing on the couch." I chuckle as I wrap my arm around her and draw her off the couch, her little legs wrapping around me as I hold her.

"Sorry," She whispers, "Can it be our secret?" Her beautiful eyes gleaming up at me in such a captivating way that I could never tell her no.

I nod, agreeing to keep her secret, "We gotta get you in bed," I kiss her cheek, commencing to walk towards the staircase as she fills me in on her adventures while we have been gone.

I am glad to see someone had a good time recently because I sure have not.

I place Sophia in her bed, wasting no time in stretching her comforter over her figure as she wiggles within the sheets, her hand clutching her teddy bear.

"Can I have a story?" She questions as I turn her nightlight on, getting ready to kiss her and leave.

"Which one?" I glance towards her several story books systematically placed in her room; I am pretty sure I have read every one of them to her at least twice.

"The one about you and mummy." Her little voice requests.

I sigh at the concept of telling her another story, a romance that appears to have a tragic ending. For a moment, I contemplate telling her, no, but I don't have the heart to turn down such a simple request. She does not know what is going on with Emily and me.

I nod before I sit on the edge of the bed, my mind racing to find the right story to tell her, a happy story.

"Hmm, okay." ... "Well, a few years ago, I asked your Mum to marry me." I begin...

The box has been nestled among my clothes in my suitcase for most the tour, travelling from continent to continent, waiting for the right time to make the move from suitcase to my pocket. The boys' laughed at me every time they'd find the box while searching for clean clothes to wear.

Twelve weeks and five days— that is how long it had been since I last saw Emily, the last time I had the privilege to hold her in my arms, the last time I looked into her deep, vibrant eyes and felt home.

Today, today everything changed. I had been counting down the days until she could join me, and today I was finally graced with her in my arms.

The day was nothing unusual, filled with the typical tour activities; sleeping, eating, cuddling, and giggling at the random, absurd circumstances.

I had it planned. I was going to take her to dinner at the restaurant on the corner by the hotel, her favourite foods were on the menu, and I knew it was the right place to take her on such a day. After that, I had a show, and that—that was where I was going to ask what felt like the most prominent question of my life. I was going to wait for Madison Square Garden to clear out before having her wander back out on the stage with me. Most would think it is an unromantic and ludicrous idea, but they don't comprehend the significance. A year ago, I was sitting backstage at the venue with my ideas scribbled into my journal, my thoughts turned into a song— they turned into her song. It was the right place to sing her the song I wrote for her a year ago.

My plan did not go as directed, I couldn't wait, I was far too eager.

I sat in front of Emily, my eyes fascinated by the way she was radiating in the dim illumination, and the way everything about her was flawless—from the way she walked and talked, to the way she smiled and could irradiate a room. I was so in love with the woman in front of me that I was full of reverence and love.

She was the one for me.

The whole meal, I couldn't take my eyes off her, she was so beautiful and captivating—she was all I wanted— she was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

I take a breath and extract myself away from my memory of the night that I proposed to Emily. A memory that was once filled with such love and hope, is now tugging at my heartstrings, threatening to pull tears from my eyes.

I look down at Sophia, grateful when I see her eyes are closed and that she is asleep. I don't think I had it in me to continue the story and keep dry eyes.

I lean down and kiss Sophia's cheeks, adjusting the comforter to her liking before I carefully leave her room.

I follow the dim light down the hallway towards our bedroom where I find Emily on the bed with a book in her hand.

"Em... can we talk for a moment?" I break the silence, luring her away from the book as her eyes gaze up to glance at me.

"I have nothing to say," Her voice is hushed and dismissive.

I know she doesn't want to talk to me, but I need to say a few things.

"I will do the talking," I lament, walking closer to the bed and sitting on the edge, keeping distance between us as her eyes narrow down on me, "I fell in love with you years ago, I fell in love with a woman that was so full of life, someone that looked at me with lustrous eyes and love, love that I didn't deserve at the time. Now, I am in still in love with you, but your eyes don't shine, you don't look at me with the love you used to, you—you don't even laugh and smile. Emily, talk to me. What is going on? I've been through this with you before, but if you don't talk to me... we have no hope. I love you, I do, but you can't push me away and do this alone." the words leave my lips without much thought, I mean every word. "You might have given up, but I haven't. I'm not going to walk away because it is easier, I don't believe in walking out of a marriage and divorcing unless it is the last resort... I love you, I probably always will no matter what happens... Just keep that in mind." my words come out as a horsed whisper towards the end, emotions beginning to play on me.

I glance at Emily, her own gaze staring at me with a dismal appearance. I give her a petite smile, not knowing what more to do, or to say in this moment.

All I can see in her eyes is sorrow and it breaks my heart; I don't see a light, I don't see that glimmer that I grew so used to viewing.

I stand back to my feet and step to leave the bedroom, the only thing being heard—the footsteps against the wooden flooring. I reach the door and step out into the hallway, pausing instantly when I overhear the same sweet voice call my name—calling me back.

[starspatter]

TimSteph & *inhales* 1, 3, 6, 7, 9, 11, 17, 19, 20, 25, 26, 27 aaand 29

ilu thank you for asking Again, this is DCAU only (i.e. for Timmy Todd).  Spoilered for length.

1. Who is the most affectionate?Stephanie, since Tim still has an ingrained fear of physical contact/intimacy.  While he rarely initiates, he feels comfortable enough around her that he appreciates the constant cuddling.3. Most common argument?Anytime one keep secrets from the other, and over the safety of their kids/how much freedom they should have, since Tim tends to be really strict + (understandably) overprotective with them.

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?Gonna borrow a canon quote from the mainstream comics (Batman 12-Cent Adventure) and say for Steph it’s “his warm, shy laugh” (especially since it’s rare for Timmy Todd) and “clean-smelling hair”.  I imagine the same holds true in reverse for Tim, since Steph’s million-watt smile and fluffy hair are my favorite things about her. ;P *shot* (Normally I’m not one for bubbly blondes, but goshdurnit she’s just too cute. 7. What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Ahh Steph’s cheerful energy is totally infectious so the more time Tim spends around her the more he starts to smile/crack jokes again.  I pretty much picture her enthusiastically dragging him around to social events to have fun instead of staying cooped up in his room all the time with his computer (much like Ayano and Shintaro with the Culture Festival, although Tim is much more receptive/respectful towards her).

9. Who worries the most?

Tim, definitely.  The anxiety and paranoia never does fully go away, and it often takes a lot of patient coaxing and consoling from Steph to calm him down from a panic attack.11. Who tops?

asdlkfjdl Steph would (at least at first to teach Timmy the Boy Virgin *shot*)17. Who says I love you first?Stephanie.  It takes a long time before Tim can say it aloud without being embarrassed.19. Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?Stephanie totally boasts about their relationship the first chance she gets lol.  Tim is much more reserved about it, although everyone could already tell he liked her anyway (Dick and Barb totally tease him relentlessly about it).  …Although no one bothers to directly contact Bruce until the wedding (Tim does send him an invitation, but ofc he doesn’t respond), he still keeps tabs on his son’s affairs from afar, in his secretive Batdad way.20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?Dick and Barbara are obviously happy for their little bro finding someone who can help him to smile and be more outgoing again.  (Dick might actually secretly be a bit jealous, since watching the two together reminds him a lot of when he and Barbara used to date.)  Stephanie’s mom also approves of Tim, since he’s smart and polite and seems like a “very nice boy” (a marked improvement over other guys her daughter has dated in the past) - even if he seemingly has some… “difficulties” (although she might be able to sympathize with him/offer assistance and advice based on her own experiences battling depression and drug addiction).  He looks to her like the loving mother he never had growing up, although he’s extremely nervous about her finding out his past.  (Eventually they do tell her the truth, and she hugs and dotingly spoils him even more as her own son.)25. Who needs more assurance?Tim, although Stephanie has a tendency to get jealous.  (Actually her first assumption when he started working longer nights and making strange/suspicious phone calls in RotJ was that he might be having an affair. *shot*)26. What would be their theme song?Ahh I have so many at this point so Imma just gonna dump a bunch (well, the first few are basically ones I couldn’t fit into my fic somehow ^^; ):“Alive” by Adelitas Way“What if I told you that I think you’re perfect?Beautiful sky in your eyes, it’s so worth it.I know you make me feel alive.‘Cause you make meLaugh a little louder,Love a little harder.”“Science and Faith” by The Script“Tried to break love to a scienceIn an act of pure defianceI broke her heartOf all of the things that she’s ever saidShe goes and says something that just knocks me dead:You won’t find faith or hope down a telescopeYou won’t find heart and soul in the starsYou can break everything down to chemicalsBut you can’t explain a love like ours”“We’ll Be the Stars” by Sabrina Carpenter“We are young, we are goldTrying things we didn’t knowLooking at the sky, see it come aliveAll our fears became our hopesClimbed out every locked windowLet me in, hold me closeFill my heart with simple notesSo when it’s hard to see,They are there, reminding meTake my breath, and hold me highSo I can feel the city lightsGlowing under me”(This one might actually apply more to their comics counterparts, but let’s just say it’s a happy AU where they met as Robin and Spoiler and neither of them dies/gets tortured mmkay.)“Landslide” by Oh Wonder“I know it hurts sometimes butYou’ll get over itYou’ll find another life to liveI know you’ll get over itI know you’re sad and tiredYou’ve got nothing left to giveSo when you’re caught in a landslideI’ll be there for you, I’ll be there for youAnd in the rain, give you sunshineI’ll be there for you, I’ll be there for youAnd every time that you’re lonelyEvery time that you’re feeling low, you should knowI’ll be there for you, I’ll be there for youI know your hope is heavy butYou’ll get over itAnd I know you feel like everythingIs falling to the windBut don’t you let the thunder in”“Superheroes” by The Script“All her life she has seenAll the meaner side of meThey took away the prophet’s dreamFor a profit on the streetAll his life he’s been toldHe’ll be nothing when he’s oldAll the kicks and all the blowsHe won’t ever let it showShe’s got lions in her heart, a fire in her soulHe’s a got a beast in his belly that’s so hard to controlCause they’ve taken too much hits, taking blow by blowNow light a match, stand back, watch them explode” “Second Chances” by Gregory Alan Isakov”All of my heroes sit up straightThey stare at the groundThey radiateI’m running from nothing, no thoughts in my mindOh my heart was all black, but I saw something shineThought that part was yours, but it might just be mineI could share it with you, if you gave me the timeI’m all bloody knuckles, longing for homeIf it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be aloneI’m a shot through the dark, I’m a black sinkholeIf it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone”“Rush Together” by Quietdrive“They grew up in the same old townNever knowing the other was aroundRead from the same damn booksNever gave each other looksBut one day the sun will shineI know, for their eyes have told me soChasing advice from those who say ‘I’ve lost my mind’Rush together to find each otherNow it’s too late, you can never wait for luckForever bound by the same instrumentWe all adhereThat’s guilt”“Start the Machine” by Angels and Airwaves“I grew so close to all the thoughts I had to leave forever I left the chill and voice of screams and kids and ran for shelterThe pain has a bad reaction A blend of fear and passionYou know what it’s like to believeIt makes me wanna screamI see the stars, they’re in your eyesA playful kiss, can you tell I’m excited?A fast escape in the nick of timeIf you lost your wish, can I help you find it?I’m on my knee, just one to startA fresh new start, don’t be undecided”(Bit of a starry theme here, eh? XP I feel it works for them, whether they’re nighttime vigilantes or not.)“Heroes and Thieves” by Vanessa Carlton“Well, disaster it strikes on a daily basisI’m looking for wisdom in all the wrong placesBut still want to laugh in disappointed facesHeroes and thieves at my doorI can’t seem to tell them apart anymoreJust when I’ve figured it outWell darlin’ it’s you I’m withoutWell I’m stubborn and wrongBut at least I know itKeep moving along until I can get through thisBut maybe this song is the best I can do itWell, it seems like I’m getting closer somehowA flicker of peace that I’ve finally foundThank you for believing in me now‘Cause I do need it” “Come to Me” by Goo Goo Dolls“I’ll be kind, if you’ll be faithful You be sweet and I’ll be grateful Cover me with kisses dear Lighten up the atmosphereCome to me with secrets bare I’ll love you more so don’t be scaredI caught you burnin’ photographs Like that could save you from your past History is like gravity It holds you down away from me You and me, we’ve both got sins I don’t care about where you’ve been Don’t be sad and don’t explain This is where we start again”(This is so cheesy but the couple in the video resembles these two so much it makes me want to cry.  Even the lyrics video has some striking parallels to my upcoming fic, which I swear was just a coincidence.)“Diary” by Ken Kamikita“I forget all painful things, those blue words spilling out, the end of a distant spring The city in sunset, as if oblivious of the crimes committed today, rings out sounds of the bell signalling the end.Back alleys, laughing voices, at the other side of the window, sight of a happy familyMy heart ached as I looked up, the first star was shining brightlyThe moment I realized, there was nothing left, I spent today in regrets and threw everything away, What’s left behind, all the time, is the me, unable to changeI recoil from love, the wind still blew, throughout the city I left behind, the end of a hot summer Burdens piling up, memories of the days we could laugh together, I desert them all and begin walking Even though I can’t see what’s ahead, even though you’re not thereI take a detour, a swing in the park, water garden, vanishing lives Citizen hall, piano sounds, you flashed a fleeting smile As I laugh, ‘since it’s you, everything’s going to be fine’”(Translated lyrics from here.)”A Page Is Turned” by Bebo Norman”A page is turned by the wind to a boy in curly grin With a world to conquer at the age of ten But as history unfolds and the storybook is told He finds salvation but not at the hands of manThe God of second chance Will pick them up and he’ll let them dance Through a world that is not kind And all this time, they’re sharing with the one That holds them up when they come undone Beneath the storm, beneath the sun And once again, here you standYour day has come” 27. Who would sing to their child back to sleep?Stephanie, being the more musically inclined of the two thanks to her piano lessons.  Tim might join in if he’s feeling particularly at ease though (however his real specialty is telling the kids bedtime stories, based on his Adventures as Robin).  I can actually picture them singing the “Dango Daikazoku” song together.  (Incidentally, I have a headcanon of Ayano singing the song to the Meka Trio, since she and Nagisa share the same voice actress. ;O)

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heartSteph blames herself for not noticing her husband was being possessed by the Joker (although she sensed something was clearly off), and wasn’t able to prevent RotJ from happening.  Tim of course feels even more guilty about it, but she helps keep him from falling too deep into despair by still accepting him despite it all.

[afterspark-podcast]

G1 Episode 34: Transcript

Episode Show Notes

[This can also be found on AO3!]

[Stinger]

O: There would be... not implied violence at not following her directives.  There would be actual violence.

[Intro Music]

O: Hello, and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap of the generation 1 Transformers cartoon.  I'm Owls.

S: And I'm Specs.

O: And today we're going to be talking about episode number 34, “City of Steel.”  Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Sure.

O: Get ready for a very eventful episode today, folks!

S: We open at a very 80’s era New York City skyline.

O: Now with ninety percent more of flying birb.

S: Laserbeak, um, enters a manhole and flies down into the sewers.

O: Cowabunga, dude!

S: None of this makes sense!  I mean, where did all of this water come from?  It's like a river down here, and then there's just this ladder between two pipes that appears to serve utterly no purpose.

O: Like, I don't- I want to say there like, wasn't a way to get up to that pipe.

S: Mm-hmm.

O: Like, there was just a ladder between two pipes, that you didn't look like you could get to or something. [laughs]

S: Yeah, it doesn't look like it reaches anything it's just there's random ladder.

O: Yes, and then we're suddenly in an abandoned, and quite frankly, devastated subway, for some reason?

S: New York is weird, I guess?  Laserbeak shoots laser beams at a door to make it open.

O: This does not damage the door in any way, and shouldn't the Decepticons have a better way of opening doors than shooting at them?  I mean, they have several people who don't have hands!

S: Yeah... yeah.

O: Like-like- maybe- just- just the cassettes alone, you know?  I'm just saying.

S: Um-hm, and I mean, what if... what if like, Shockwave is holding something in his one hand?

O: Right!

S: He's got a gun for the other one.

O: I mean, I guess that- I guess that- that's an argument for shorting dolph- shooting to open doors.

S: [laughs]

O: Uh, unfortunately, but uh, I mean, like, I'm just saying, motion sensitive?  Something that senses Decepticon badge[s]?  Either those seem like perfectly reasonable options.

S: I mean, heck, maybe the shooting it was just a way of transmitting a code to open the door, I don't know.

O: [laughs] They really could have shown that in a different way but- but fair.

S: [sighs] Laserbeak enters Soundwave’s chest, and elsewhere the Constructicons argue amongst themselves.

O: And lo!  A very off model Megatron appears!  He will look off model for this entire episode and it will drive me nuts.  So, uh, just ignore me.  It's gonna keep coming up, I'm sorry.

B: [laugh]

S: Ah, Megatron admonishes the Constructicons for arguing and Soundwave reports that there is absolutely no nearby Autobot activity.

O: Megatron then laughs maniacally saying, “Soon New York City will be all mine!”

S: While waving his arms in the air like he just don't care.

O: Um, everybody dance now?

S: [singing] Everybody party!

O: [laughs]

S: [sighs]

O: And due to the Constructicon activity down below, we then see that the entire Empire State Building sinks into the earth.

S: Who knew there were just large holes under New York City?  If I were a New Yorker I'd be extremely concerned about this!

O: Either that, or maybe the Constructions just have been really, really, busy?

S: Both could be true.

O: [laughs]

S: God, sinkholes would be terrifying there. 

O: In a city?  Yeah, I mean- I mean- I think that's why normally you don't have cities built in places where sinkholes are as... common, but at the same time they still are built in cities- er- cities are built-

S: Well, I mean, the thing is it's not like people could really tell at that point not, I don’t think.

O: Not unless it had like, a history of happening.  France!  Paris!  That's wh- that's why the the catacombs exist.  Like, there had been all of this mining that had happened under Paris and so it was leaving these like- essentially, very- places that could crumble, you know, fall in.

S: Mm-hmm.

O: And so they had to do something to get structure down there.  Th- that is a partial reason why the catacombs exist in Paris.*

S: Oh, that is interesting.

O: Yeah, sorry, on that historical tangent on the too many documentaries Owls has watched in the past couple months.

S: [laughs]

O: Sorry! [laughs]

S: [sighs] At the Ark, the Autobots watched the news about the sinking Empire State Building and Optimus correctly intuits that this has to be Megatron's doing and all the Autobots roll out to head towards New York City.

O: It's time for another cross-country road trip!

S: Courtesy of Prowl.

O: We have to assume.  As they're leaving Optimus radios Sparkplug to tell them to have Wheeljack meet them in Central Park, but in the shot where like, Sparkplug is receiving this message he doesn't move at all, doesn't say anything, and it's just a very weird shot because it's like, this is not an alive person.

S: They were saving money.

O: Yes.  Then in New York, we see Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Wheeljack, Mirage, and Hound entering the city by way of water skis, when they spy Laserbeak.

S: Oh, water skis, the time tested and honorable method of travel over water.

O: I think what kills me is like, to my knowledge we don't even have like, toys that have water skis on them, so it seems so strange that they keep coming up?

S: It's a goofy show from the 80’s about giant robots of course they're going to bring up water skis.

O: [laughs] You're right, you're right, whatever was I thinking?

B: [laugh]

S: It was the hip thing, I don't know.

O: [while laughing] Sure.

S: But yeah, I mean, geez- how did if they road tripped to New York City…

O: Like, where- where were these other group that they're water skiing to- to New York?

S: Yes, and where did they start out from?

O: Florida!  They were on the beach, man!

S: [laughs]

O: Sunstreaker wanted to have a good time.

S: [sighs] Oh yeah, found some- found some people who were willing to have hot car washes.  I don't know if the- if the robots would be entertained by that but-

O: Probably not, but it is a funny thought.

S: Yeah, especially since at least three of them are super cars.

O: I mean, yeah, a lot of them are like that where they're like, very expensive cars. Cuz Knockout’s [from Transformers Prime] like that too, yeah, it’s just absurd.  Sorry.  Tangent!  I’m good at tangents today.

S: [laughs] We're both good at tangents.

O: [laughs]

S: Then in a two-second interlude, we see Optimus, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Bluestreak reach New York via highway before we cut back to the underground Decepticon lair.

O: Where they appear to be refurbishing the Empire State Building... the entire thing.

S: Oh god, um, there are probably people in there who... probably wish they'd stopped drinking.

O: Pray everyone was on their lunch break, maybe?

S: Hopefully?

O: [laughs]

S: Either that, or they're just- I don't know, they're not having a good time, probably.

O: I can't imagine why they would.  I mean, this begs the question, is the electricity still connected?  Do they still have water?  Like, I don't know how the Constructicons would have managed that.  But- but I'm just saying, like, you know, a specific kind of person, if they still had working electricity, phone lines, fax lines, whatever, might just keep working.

S: I'm not sure that they would considering that I don't think those wires have a whole lot of, uh, give to them.

O: Allow me to put it this way, they probably shouldn't, but I also know what kind of show I'm talking about.

S: Yeah...

O: [laughs]

S: Laserbeak warns Megatron that the Autobots have arrived.

O: He's so off model, he's so off model, he’s so off model.

S: Yup.  It- it is your trial and tribulation Owls, for watching this episode.

O: Apparent- apparently, this episode just wants to hurt me.  Anyway, the Autobots are met by Soundwave and his cassettes as they arrive at Central Park.

S: Rumble and Soundwave each finish each other's sentences for a little bit.

O: Okay, well, possibly Frenzy says something in the middle too?  It shows him on the screen, but his mouth isn't moving, and so help me god even I can't tell Rumble and Frenzy’s voices apart.  It doesn't help that they're ALSO both voiced by Welker.  This is just one person saying a sentence in two to three silly voices isn't it?

S: Yep.

O: [snorts]

S: God, it reminds me of the thing that I just saw today about apparently there's an episode of Batman where basically all of the characters are voiced by Mark Hamill.

O: [laughs] Mark Hamill is to Batman what Frank Welker is to Transformers.  That sounds right, actually!  And like, there were I think- I think there were a lot more like other voice actors that did a bunch of voices in Transformers than in Batman, but still, it's a funny thought.

S: Yeah, but it was- I think the plot of that episode was Mark Hamill gets kidnapped.

O: OH YEAH!

S: Like, the voice actor, Mark Hamill-

O: Yeah. You know the Joker comes up with surprising frequency on our podcast, I just want to bring that up.

S: Mm-hmm.

O: Rumble and Frenzy then use their pile drivers to pound the ground for a bit and Ironhide just kind of keels over?

S: Ironhide just decided he was done for the day.

O: While all the animation in this episode is just terrible, wow, that fall is in a special place.

S: Yeah... Scavenger can sense Optimi, as he digs under Optimus from below.

O: But not before Optimus chucks Soundwave across the park.

S: [sharp intake of breath] And how does this even work?  Prime doesn't fall onto Scavenger he falls like, 40 stories and lands on his back in Long Haul's trailer.  And to, um, like, illustrate the scene, Scavenger was like, up on some sort of thing or whatever so that he could dig up to where Prime was and then suddenly when Prime falls down Scavenger's not there.  The thing he's on isn't there, but Long Haul and his trailer are significantly further down.

O: Yeah, like, he just falls 40 feet, or 40 stories, it’s fine!

S: Then Megatron walks over zaps Optimus with some kind of device and severs his motor relays.

O: So he zaps Optimus’ abs with a strangely dildo-y shaped object and now Prime can't move?

 S: Well technically, I think he calls it suspended animation but... pretty much, yes.

O: Just checking, okay. [laughs]

S: [sighs] Then Megatron flies up through the hole made by Scavenger and threatens to kill Optimus if the Autobots don't leave.  Then the Decepticons raise the *brand new* refurbished and updated Empire State building back to ground level and Megatron proclaims he is the leader of New Cybertron.

O: I mean at least that's a better name than last time he named something.  Although I- I have to give him credit, his fantastic threat to Optimus Prime?  To melt him down into paper clips.

S: Yeah, I mean, that is honestly kind of ignoble for Optimus.

O: [laughs]

S: To be turned into, you know, office supplies and honestly I want to know how- well- I think it- how Megatron knows what a paperclip is?

O: [laughs harder] Oh my god, does Cybertron have paperclips!?!  I mean-

S: Eh…

O: They don't even use paper most of the time!

S: I don't think they have trees.

O: Yeah, yeah, that's also true.

S: And paper would be very flimsy for them unless it was some sort of... unless they had an equivalent.

O: I'm just saying, who took Megatron to an office supply store?  This is what I want to know, why?

S: He obviously learned this when he learned what a guinea pig was.

O: [laughs] Yeeeeah.

S: And so, after this threat, um, New York City is being evacuated by both the Autobots and the humans.

O: How nice of the Decepticons to let them all orderly evacuate.

S: Uh.

O: But then Spike has an idea, and all the Autobots exit the highway.

S: That was an extremely convenient exit and I have to wonder who Megatron is going to rule in his city of New Cybertron.

O: It's just the Decepticons.  It's a bigger base.  But what was even funnier about that exit, is they were totally on a bridge so like that- that was a very convenient exit.

S: Yup.

O: And- and now back to, you know, underground, Megatron is standing between Optimus’ legs on Long Haul's truck bed with his Fusion Cannon aimed, ehem, downwards talking about his conquest.

S: [sharp intake of breath] Yeah, that's not awkward at all.

O: It's not awkward at all.  I'm also not exaggerating.

S: You're not.

O: [laughs]

S: Oh, Megatron then orders Hook to disassemble Prime.

O: Which Hook then begins... by pulling out a lightsaber.

S: A purple one, to you know, keep it Decepticon themed.

O : Of course!  Later, Long Haul dumps all the Optimus Prime parts in front of Megatron's feet.

S: [sighs] Megatron then picks up Optimus' head to gloat, which obviously he can't do if Prime is [un]conscious so he runs power through the head.  And this is just making- this is like the- one of the few things from the- that's consistent with the comics.

O: Ironically, yes.  Also, I think we meant unconscious.

S: We used the wrong word, he should have been unconscious.

O: [laughs]

S: Or, he can't do if Prime is unconscious, so let's run with that.

O: [laughs] Uh, for some reason, Optimus can control his limbs while his head is active.  So he has his dismembered forearms grab Megatron's legs and trip him.

S: Optimus has the weirdest ass powers.

O: Right!?!

S: That he can pull out of nowhere.

O: Right?  And then, Megs gets back up, tells the Constructicons they can do whatever the hell they want with the rest of Optimus’ body, but he's keeping the head.

S: Presumably, so we can put it on the metaphorical mantle.  I mean, god, this is basically the exact same thing that... well, actually I think it was Shockwave in the comics because-

O: I know Shockwave popped up at some point.

S: -his head, yeah.  His head was definitely separated from his body.

O: Elsewhere, Spike is uh, waste deep in some water?

S: Next to a ship.  He directs the Autobots into what looks like an open sewer drain and we discover that he's actually sitting on Bumblebee's head in the water.

O: So Bee's got those little horns on his head, it seems like it would not be so comfortable on the good ol’ keister.

S: Yeah…

O: But apparently- apparently Spike's okay with it.

S: I mean if he'd actually been drawn small enough that he could fit between the horns I don't think it would be so bad but it definitely looks like he's sitting on the horns.

O: [laughs] Right, like, that doesn't look comfortable.

S: Yeah.

O: So then Spike, Bee, Ratchet, Mirage, and Hound enter the sewer to go save Optimus.

S: I'm gonna call them team Health Hazard considering Spike was sitting in water that appears to be very near a sewer exit, or if it's not a sewer exit, some sort of storm drain exit.  And I mean, that's still not going to be great for his health.

O: Yeah.  Mirage scouts ahead of the group, turning invisible, leaving Hound to track him with his scanners as the rest of the group follows.

S: Scrapper is congratulating himself on the Constructions using Optimus’ remains um, extremely creatively as he touts um, off one of Prime's arms holding Prime's blaster.

O: They drive up and then we go back to team Health Hazard.  Ratchet complains about feeling like they're in a swamp.

S: How is there foliage down there!?! [sighs]

O: Through the magic of cartoons?

S: Considering the type of show this is, yes. [sighs] Hound says he's now picking up Optimus’ signal from behind them, and then Mirage reappears and points out the giant red, blue, and white alligator that is charging towards them.

O: With an Autobot logo clearly visible on its leg.

S: That they don't notice the Autobots are not very good at, uh…

O: Noticing things.

S: Yeah.

O: Very obvious things.

S: Yeahhhh.

O: They walk slowly away as Mirage covers them.

S: Hound expresses his confusion as to why his sensors are picking up Optimus.

O: Oh, come on guys!!!

S: The suspiciously colored alligator clearly has nothing to do with it, right?  Right?

O: Right, right, right, obviously not, that would be too obvious!  Um, Bee and Spike lead the alligator into an old subway train, and then the others send it down the track.

S: Somehow this train still has power.

O: Back topside, Mixmaster has- just shits girders.  Like, in vehicle mode, when Skywarp shoves a car into his mixing tank?

S: Mixmaster is a very good chemist.  Very good.

O: [while laughing] Obviously!

S: Starscream compliments Megatron for once.  Though obviously not to his face.

O: He likes what he's done with the place- or the city at least.

S: Yep.  In the Decepticon base, team Health Hazard finds Optimus’ head.

O: We get introduced to yet another random unit of measure, mechana-meters.

S: Pfft, we did not need another one.

O: No, we didn't, but we got another one anyway! [laughs]

S: [long groan]

O: You see what you did Transformers?  See what you did, you like- oh god, is it 40 years old?  You like, 30 something year old show, you broke Specs!

S: I think it's like, 35 years old considering that I think uh, [the eruption of] Mount St. Helens was in 1980.

O: Hmm, yeah.

S: Um, Ratchet runs power to Prime's head and Prime uses his telepathy to bring his legs to them.

O: I just want to know what his legs were even like- what were they a part of?  Did they just shove them in a closet?  I'm- especially considering what they did with the rest of him!

S: Yeah, I don't know, maybe Optimus Prime- oh god, maybe Megatron wanted his legs used as I don't know-

O: I don't want to know, I don't want to know.

S: [sighs] I don’t know.

O: But consid- go ahead.

S: Well, I was thinking like parts of a chair, or something?

O: [laughs] Yeah, that seems dumb enough to be a thing.  Of course, this is when they realize that alligator was made out of Prime parts.

S: And it has a name, the alligator-con.

O: Of course!

S: And next Hound, Mirage, and Ratchet are wrestling with the alligator, while Bee and Spike stand off to the side next to Prime's huge freaking legs, while primly holding Optimus’ head.

O: Wait.  Does this mean they carried the legs down here, or did Prime them- move them with telepathy like, the entire time?

S: I mean, it's anyone's guess, I guess?

O: [laughing while talking] They're so big!  Compared to everybody else.  [normal speaking voice] And then Prime is apparently able to subdue the beast with yet more mind waves!

S: Ratchet is able to mostly reassemble him except for the arm we saw Scrapper carting off earlier.  I mean, there were still parts left over so... what?

O: Red and blue parts even, they do not look like they were just random parts the Decepticons should have had lying around.

S: Well, unless it was left over from one of Megatron's um, toys?

O: Oh god no. [laughs]

S: Uh-huh.

O: I'm not going there, goodbye, goodbye.  Goodnight everybody! [laughs]

S: Uh-huh.  Optimus gives Mirage a side hug with his one arm and tells him to radio the others because Megatron is in for a shock.

O: Top side we see Bluestreak, Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, and Ironhide are walking around in the streets.

S: I'm calling this team Hot to Trot since, you know, they're out and about.

O: We've got Hot to Trot and team Health Hazard for those of you following at home.

S: And they see Prime's missing arm.  It is attached to a building acting as some sort of sentry gun.

O: In Decepticon HQ, Megatron is very unhappy about losing his toy, as he spies team Health Hazard in the monitor, you know, walking with Prime.

S: And then Prime's arm shoots into the screaming Autobots below.

O: [laughs] Soundwave just calmly mashes what we have to assume is the fire button like, repeatedly.

S: Yeah, oh god, someone's just using... using Optimus Prime's arm as a video game.

O: Yes! [laughs]

S: It's the most lifelike video game. [sighs]

O: [laughs]

S: And honestly, the Autobots seem like they're more afraid of the arm than the alligator, as they actually run away from the arm.

O: Yes, uh, we see Jazz in a shot for a second.

S: Hound and Bluestreak fall into a hole, where Rumble appears driving a subway train.

O: Before suddenly turning into Frenzy.  I mean, like, his color changes between shots.

S: Yeah, I mean whichever cassette this is, he looks like he's having a very good time.

O: Well, he is until Bluestreak and Hound explode the front of the train, and that apparently stops all momentum and they are saved.

S: What are physics to a children's tv show episode?

O: In the 80’s. [laughs]

S: Yeah.  Bee, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker are driving around, uh, before being suddenly attacked by taxis.

O: These decepticabs appear to be the Constructicons’ handiwork.

S: Bee, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker gracefully leap over them in vehicle mode, before Prime mows the taxis over while in his own vehicle mode ,and then he takes out three Constructicons in their little firing stations for good measure.  Optimus arrives back in front of the Empire State Building and says it's time to, “Lend him a hand, and an arm as well!”

O: Oh Optimus, you and your dad jokes.

S: Prime and Ironhide scale the building to retrieve Optimus’ arm.

O: Along with Ratchet, but I think what more of note here is Ironhide’s got a grappling hook too!?!

S: Megatron orders an airstrike by the Seekers.

O: The Seekers are damaged, and Starscream calls the other two cowards before Sideswipe jumps into the air (with no visible sign of his pack) and grapples Starscream, while Starscream is in jet mode.

S: This sounds like it's um, jet judo on…

O: Steroids?

S: Yes, I couldn't remember the word.

O: And then Starscream ends up diving into the river as Sideswipe just flies off perfectly fine.

S: Well, I guess he had that um, jet pack.

O: That invisible jet pack? [laughs]

S: Yeah.  The Constructicons form Devastator and they attempt to step on Wheeljack before climbing up the uh, refurbished Empire State Building after the Autobots.

O: Bee and Spike infiltrate the control room where Soundwave and Megatron are.

S: Ah, they like to live dangerously.

O: Very dangerously, considering they keep throwing Spike (or Spike throws himself) into these situations.

S: Yeah.  Soundwave stands up and begins shouting, “Intruders!”

O: Megatron says they are, “Doomed!”

S: But is he going to take the uh, steps to make sure that they're doomed?  And I don't think he does.

O: I think he tries. [laughs]

S: Yeah.  Yeah, I mean, Spike insults him and then Megatron says something to the effect of, “You dare insult me, in my own command post!?!”

O: “You come into my house and-” [laughs]

S: I did not go out to have a good time.  I specifically stayed in, and I'm feeling so attacked right now!

O: [laughs] And then Spike and Bee like, run around the room and maneuver Megatron into shooting the command console, which deactivates Prime's arm.

S: Yeah.  And then Soundwave, in order to, you know, deal with this, sends the birbs after Spike and Bumblebee.  Presumably so he can attempt to I don't know, do damage control on the count- on the console?

O: Outside, Devastator grabs Prime, you know, like King Kong, and whacks Ratchet and Ironhide into the tower.  Wheeljack even starts talking about King Kong before sending in some remote controlled helicopters.  Uh, like, after Devastator.

S: I think Wheeljack just decided he was going to have fun with this.

O: I mean, that's fair.

S: I mean, did he just jerry-rig the helicopters, or did he go, and did he have them already prepared?

O: I’m really- it’s-

S: In some way.

O: It's up in the air which one.

S: Yeah, Ironhide and Ratchet meanwhile, shoot the floor out from beneath Soundwave and Megatron because they're, I guess, a floor above?  And so, Soundwave and Megatron end up falling past them and into another hole- er, through a hole in the floor.

O: Or- or they make a hole in the floor?  But it is so goofy looking, it's amazing.  We definitely have a gif we get to reblog, it's gonna be great. [laughs]

S: Yes, yes.  They just- Ironhide and Ratchet look so pleased with themselves.  I think they do a little handshake or maybe a thumbs up?

[It’s a handshake in case anyone was curious. ~Owls]

O: Something like that.  All I can say is quite frankly, that off model Megatron get- he deserves to be in that hole.

B: [laugh]

S: Yep, and so uh, Devastator is climbing up to the top of the tower, and then Prime uses mind powers to shoot- to supercharge his gun and shoot him.

O: Devastator falls, disassembling into the individual Constructicons as they flee.

S: I actually just want to ask how Optimus Prime managed to supercharge his gun when it's been his limbs that he's been controlling, but that’s-

O: I have no idea. [laughs]

S: -that's neither here nor there, because while the Constructicons flee, so do Soundwave and Megatron, they follow close behind them.

O: After the battle Ratchet reattaches Prime’s arm.

S: He probably feels pretty good about that, because Optimus says, “Just as it always was,” while squeaking horribly.

O: [laughs] And my biggest takeaway from this episode is that this really seems like a two-parter that they crammed all into one episode because I kid you not like, the entire ‘Megatron taking over New York part’ like, happens in like, under five minutes.  And I really feel like, probably it should have been two parts and the end of the first part would have been right after Optimus got kidnapped but- but no, no it's just like this everything happening in five minutes and then a relatively normally paced episode after that.  It was weird.

S: Yeah.

O:  Anyway, join us next time for episode 35: Desertion of the Dinobots, Part 1.  And then Specs has some fanfics for today.

S: Yeah, we have some fanfic recs.  The first is, “The Return of the Revenge of the Son of the City of Steel,” by WaywardInsecticon, and it is actually a script format parody of this episode.

O: [laughs]

S: And I thought it was just very fitting for it like, it's funny, it's silly.

O: Very!

S: It is, it is.  It's based on the G1 cartoon, it's rated T, it's Gen, there's no pairings, and it's a G1 cast.  And in summary, “It's script format.  What happens when the dreadful episode City of Steel goes north?  You get this thing.”

O: [laughs]

S: And it's a City of Steel parody, and it's a one shot.  And the second fic is, “Five Hangovers and a Trumpet,” by KoiLungfish.  Also a G1 cartoon based fic, it's rated T, Gen, none, and the characters are the Constructicons.  And in summary, “The aftermath of a Constructicon party can be a messy place,” and character/theme here is the Constructicons.  Considering that the Constructicons were such a big part of be-

O: Everything here? [laughs]

S: Yes, yes, the plan to refurbish New York.

O: And refurbish Optimus Prime while they were at it.

S: Yep.

O: [laughs]

S: Also a one shot.

O: This one sounds like so much fun like that title alone just sounds glorious, “Five Hangovers and a Trumpet.”

S: Mm-hm, it's- it's fun, it's one that I remember reading like, back when it was first published and just... it's fun.

O: It sounds fun, I can't wait to read this one myself.

S: And that about wraps it up for us today.  Remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes, or links we may have mentioned.  You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at AftersparkPod (all one word) and various other locations by searching for Afterspark Podcast such as AO3, iTunes, Google Podcasts, Spotify, and Youtube, just to name a few.  And feel free to send us questions on Tumblr, or Youtube, or AO3!  Till next time, I'm Specs.

O: And I’m Owls.

S: Toodles

[Outro Music]

*To my understanding this was due to Paris running out of room for their dead and having this massive area under the city that was essentially empty that they realized they could use.  The catacombs themselves only take up a small portion of these old abandoned mines.  Many of which still exist under Paris, but after the 1774 disaster there was a massive undertaking to chart and inspect these old quarries and reinforce them to make sure they remained stable.  (At least under public buildings and roads.)  Sink holes still pop up from uncharted mines with some amount of frequency in Paris.

Mines of Paris

Redevelop Subterranean Paris

Bonus: I got sidetracked, but I found it interesting, and somewhat relevant, so here it is.  Basically, yes, sinkholes can and do happen in larger cities, though it seems more common to form because of a water or sewage line break than from sitting atop large empty caverns.

How Do Sinkholes Form?

~Owls

[tired-pinetree]

TYes actually!

It’s really cool too!

Most of the sets were miniatures (as you can see in this picture) or full sized sets

I won’t belabor the point, but Mustafar (with real fake lava!), the Execution Arena, the podracing stage, Kashyyyk, Kamino, Coruscant (with matte paintings and partial full sets as well), Utapoau’s sinkholes, parts of Mos Eisley, and the parts of Naboo that weren’t filmed on location were all carved out of foam and filmed, with characters and effects composited on after

The podracers themselves were full sized pieces too, although the race itself used quite a bit of CGI

The Naboo starfighters were also real and full sized

For that matter, the Jedi starfighters had both mini and full sized props

The speeder used in the speeder chase in episode 2 was real and full sized, the chrome Nubian ship was a mini, the droid deploying tanks from the invasion of Naboo and their hangers were minis, the Gungan underwater craft was full size, 

Many rooms were real full sized set, like Boba Fett’s apartment, the landing pad on Kamino, the Jedi Chambers, Palpatine’s office, Padme’s apartment, the duel with Dooku in episode 3, and various other sets used for short scenes

The crew was actually in Italy when Mount Edna erupted, and they were able to film the eruption and used that for the background of the Mustafar scene

Even the explosions tended to be real. When the Naboo starfighters exploded, those were the real explosions of the minis, along with the Jedi Cruiser, and the droid deploying tanks.

The most impressive real explosion was Sebulba’s crash during the podrace, which was entirely a practical effect not CGI 

As for characters, while everyone remembers the CGI abomination of Jar Jar, the wookies were real costumes, Yoda was a puppet, many of the battle droids are actually real (although for some reason the clones weren’t), C3PO was a puppet and a costume, the Tusken Raiders were costumes, and a number of aliens that I won’t name because there’re kinda background characters anyways were animatronics, costumes, or puppets

Obviously some scenes are fully or partly CGI, but most of the computer manipulation went into compositing characters and effects onto the mini sets and bringing the images together.

Remember that at this time, CGI was not only bad, it was expensive, and building miniatures and partial sets was actually cheaper and faster than CGI

To be honest, I do like the prequels, but they’re not my favorite. The prequels are kind of shitty, but not because of CGI. There’s a lot that went wrong with those movies, especially in the script, art directing (not CGI or effects, but how they decided what things are going to look like), and directing. I see posts here that ask people not to blame the actors for the shittyness of the prequels, that they did the best with what they had, and I ask people not to blame the set builders and the many people who worked hard on making real characters and sets. Ultimately, the prequels are no original Jurassic Park when it comes to practical effect, but they get a bad rep when really, we wouldn’t even be talking about petty aesthetics.

Here’s a video I used for most of my info, check it out, there’s a lot of behind the scenes shots that show the minis and how the visuals of the prequels were put together

TL;DR A metric fuckton of the fake looking stuff in the star wars prequels are surprisingly real

Source: [x]

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10 Of The Most Awful Cities To Stay In Oregon

Maps are the greatest descriptive use to give many of the truths of an indicated area or even point in a suitably coordinated technique such that the readers can simply find the greatest details from the map in minimal time plus given that it is actually a descriptive description the facts that it supplies is quite effectively on call to the viewers plus is actually a really good mind resource likewise. When conservation of twentieth-century ancestry to begin with began to obtain drive, extremely minimal literary works was actually on call on the subject matter. China has 1.3 billion people, the worst gravitate to the principal areas. Maintenance Briefs 15. Washington, D.C.: National Park Company, Heritage Maintenance Providers. When I resided in the nation apart from everyone there understood I was an area girl, I enjoyed. White Area goes to the junction of Oregon Option 62 as well as Oregon Route 140 at the north end of Medford en route to Sinkhole Pond so it observes a ton of traffic congestion creating it among the most awful urban areas in Oregon. Record: Zhangjiakou is actually a time-honored metropolitan area north of the Great Wall occupied through several ethnic minorities. There are actually lots of locations individuals check out within this urban area among the notable and also widely known website is actually the statue of freedom. Produce details of the specific services the client is actually seeking like draining garbage, dusting, toilet cleaning, mopping as well as vacuuming. Industrial Structures: Preservation and also Regeneration. Dominant components within the Pest 'half' of city consist of the beautiful Parliament building (the style of which is actually based upon our homes of Parliament in London), St Stephen's Basilica, and also the reasons of Vajdahanyad Castle.

Our kids really loved the country when they were actually young, and now that they are actually much older, the pull of points as well as close friends to perform in the city are their emphasis. No nation is actually excellent yet China can, sometimes, be actually downright awful. Street Stephen's Cathedral, Hofburg Royal Residence, the Spanish Riding College and Museumsquartier are actually among the tourist attractions in the metropolitan area centre. Whether taking pleasure in the waters during the hot months, or even forgeting the dolphin-sighting areas and turtle-egg-hatching that are actually routine events on the coastline, Indian Seashore is actually a great option for travelers to see. On the third time we consulted with future interviewee Ronald James, an authorization on Virginia City history, that assisted our company find inner parts for considered upcoming meetings. Space, Time and also Design: The Development of a New Heritage. The Poli Grappa Museum provides the details of Grappa, a worldwide understood alcoholic liquor. On the occasion that you have cleaning items to discard, don't fail to remember that you might be risking the environment as you perform this. mouse click the next site area of Kiev is the joint eighth on the list of low-cost cities through which to live.The area covers the chart with the best destitution fee (39 percent) as well as the lowest typical credit report-- monetary factors that are actually crucial worry red flags. This is my review for the 1st PYT Deter Indigenous as well as Sea Food Bistro (Home of the happiest boodle match experience in Iloilo Urban area) along Burgos Street in Los Angeles Paz, Iloilo Urban Area, Philippines.But while a month long vacation zipping coming from location to spot may deliver a little bit of culture shock, as well as a few uneasy knowledge, it is just after staying here that one finds the true China. But survive it performed and in today day it is actually a successful area, full of society, life and religious families, living out their dreams in a Jewish home.

[argotmagazine-blog]

Dear Worrier Princess: Exes, Exes Everywhere

Dear Worrier Princess is a queer advice column based off The Ex-Girlfriend of My Ex-Girlfriend Is My Girlfriend, the viral queer advice zine by Maddy Court (a.k.a @xenaworrierprincess on Instagram).

In her inaugural column for Argot, Maddy considers heartbreak and queer love in the age of Instagram. How do you find closure and space when your ex is constantly popping up on your feed? What does it mean to emotionally block someone? Why are queer women so determined to stay friends, and how does this cultural tic translate to the internet?

 Queery #1: I went through this really brutal breakup a little over a year ago (my first love cheated on me and dumped me in a phone call from her new girl’s apartment). This was really rough on my psyche and I spent a lot of time dwelling on her/insta-stalking her/going to therapy about her. I thought all of that would end when I got a new girlfriend, but I am now several months into a new relationship (with someone I LOVE who is WONDERFUL TO ME) and I still catch myself thinking about my ex and checking up on her social media. I don’t want her back, but I crave her approval and her interest so much and I don’t know how to turn it off and move on! Help!

 Heartbreak in the age of Instagram is unreasonably cruel. The human brain can barely distinguish between cold and wet sensations. It can’t register the coolest kinds of light, or maintain relationships with more than 200 people at once. It’s not equipped to process that the woman who broke your heart via a phone call from her new girl’s apartment is creating a multimedia, real-time documentary about her life and it’s available 24/7, for free, from literally anywhere.  In 1990 or whatever, people divvied up their CDs and lost touch. They ripped up photographs. The sad and brokenhearted could scab over, forget the sound of their ex’s laugh, buy some chunky necklaces and move on. Today, physical space isn’t enough to heal from a break-up. You must unlearn the muscle memory and masochism that compels you to check your ex’s social media. On top of that, you’re contending with algorithms that track your every click and position your ex-girlfriend at the top of your feed.  You cannot rip up your ex’s Instagram.

There’s also the fact that queer communities are insular, online and off. Queer women, especially, place a huge premium on staying friends, on keeping some semblance of solidarity and peace throughout a breakup. Use this to your advantage. When you feel rejected or overlooked, throwing your own party is a powerful experience. Flood your Instagram with golden hour selfies, nature shots of you hiking with a three-legged rescue dog, and artfully arranged photobooth print-outs that scream, I HAVE SO MANY HOT ZANY FRIENDS AND THEY ALL WANNA BE CLOSE TO ME IN THIS TINY SPACE. By projecting that you don’t care about your ex, you might tap into some genuine, unburdened energy.

 Like Doritos for dinner, checking your ex-girlfriend’s Instagram is instant gratification. Try leaving your phone at home. You can start small: a bike ride, trip to the grocery store, or dinner with friends. Pay attention to when you feel the urge to open Instagram. What’s your emotional state? Is it when you’re bored and waiting in line? Is it when you’re alone and is seems that everyone except you showed up to the park with a picnic blanket of friends? Maybe you’ll find that you feel neutral, and checking her Instagram is just an old habit.

 I know this is all very mindfulness-from-a-can. It really works though, I promise. Also, stash your phone across the room when you go to bed. This helps avoid late night/early morning Instagram sinkholes. Make a tally every time you go 6 hours without looking at her stuff and see how long you last.

 The obvious solution is to just block her, but blocking is political and invites confrontation. There are too many workarounds. Instead, re-think blocking as a ritual. Using a pen and paper, make a list of all the times your ex-girlfriend was crass and thoughtless with your heart. What red flags, boundaries, and lessons did she teach you? If you’d never loved her, would you appreciate your current girlfriend in the same way? Put the list in a safe place in case you need to re-visit it. Then, wash all your bedding in hot water and wipe down your floors with vinegar. Center yourself and set an intention to disconnect emotionally from your ex-girlfriend. Her approval is worthless to you. Her likes and comments roll off of you like water off a duck’s back. Her Instagram is just another entity floating around, it no longer drains your emotional energy. She is emotionally blocked. This won’t happen overnight. It takes time. But it will get easier.

 Queery #2: My ex is a prominent member of my local queer scene and has a public presence across various arts practices. It annoys me that I see them all the time on social media - their own and others' - being both social and promoting their projects. It also annoys me that I am likely to run into them at any given event that I go to, especially because they are a social butterfly and I am an awkward shy girl liable to freeze at any given moment. Please offer your soundest advice for dealing with famous exes.

 When I meet someone new, I describe her hair to my friends. I notice the shirts she wears and try to discern which one is her favorite. I worry the entree I ordered was boring, the story I told was boring, my apartment was boring. I am a seagull pecking old bread and she is an actual star. But my girlfriends are most famous in that shady, painful patch when they’re becoming exes. I drift through Anthropologie, picking up candles and smelling them and sighing and putting them back. I call my friends at midnight. I dread running into her, but I also want to run into her. Why? Because every ex is a famous ex.

 It’s been said before, but it bears repeating: breakups would be much easier if your ex disappeared. But they don’t. They shop at the Target by your house. They post longform Instagram stories. They show up at your best friend’s barbecue with sweet corn. They’re here, they’re queer, they’re 100% going to the art show this weekend. All you can do is enlist friends to act as buffers and practice polite conversation-enders like “it was nice seeing you” or “I’m going to go look at the art now.”

 There’s also the matter that your ex is famous.  I’d be worried if your letter contained lingering admiration. I’m sensing that you no longer subscribe to your ex’s queer celebrity mystique and that’s healthy. You understand that having a big social media presence is a job, not a status. Like being a cruise director or a theatre person, it’s a skill-set that usually aligns with an extroverted personality. The next time you see your ex spilling across your feed, remind yourself that what you’re seeing is deliberate and a little fabricated.

 I’m going to end my response with some validation: the annoyance you feel is understandable—your ex approaches their life in a way that clashes and brushes up against your own. This doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with your ex, you’re just [essential] oil and water. Emotionally block them (see Queery 1 for a definition and instructions). Don’t wait. Call today.

 Are you in a pickle regarding your love life? Do you have a crush you can't figure out how to talk to, an ex you'd like to reconnect with but don't know if it's appropriate or the right time? 

Shoot an email to worrierprincess@argotmagazine.com or fill out the form below. 

Maddy Court is an artist and writer based in Madison, WI. Keep up with her on Twitter @worrierprincess, or on instagram @xenaworrierprincess.

[goingrvway]

Montezuma Castle National Monument, Fort Verde

On the way to Camp Verde for church at the local Calvary Chapel, as we get to the intersection of North Arena Del Loma and North Montezuma Castle Highway, I look over and see a large cave-like area in the cliffs.  I get the camera out and zoom in a little and what do I see…Montezuma Castle.  After church, which we thought was just wonderful, and after lunch at a restaurant near the church, and after a drive-by visit to Fort Verde there in town, we drove over to Montezuma Castle National Monument.  The NPS Senior Pass got us in for free, and they have a nice visitor’s center, and the path to the Castle is paved, not very long, and easy to walk for me, drive for Marcia.

   Knowing that we have limited time because we had doggies awaiting us at the motorhome (we try not to be gone longer than 4 hours), we did not get out of the car at the fort.  The park tries to display what the fort was like during the Apache war time period.  The bronze plaque, which if you click will open in a large picture, contains the names of the soldiers who earned the Congressional Medal of Honor for action seen with the Apaches.  Perhaps next time we are through the area, we will take the time to visit the fort, it seems like it would be interesting.

At Montezuma Castle, you enter the Visitor’s Center and pay the fee (or show the senior pass as we did).  There are some nice displays in the center, including this one showing Teddy Roosevelt.  Roosevelt proclaimed Montezuma Castle one of the nation's first four national monuments on December 8, 1906, along with El Morro and Petrified Forest.  Devils Tower in Wyoming was the country's first national monument.  We have now been to 3 out of the 4 first National Monuments…going to have to put El Morro on our list so we can see all four.

    The path is very nice, and very quickly after leaving the visitor’s center, you can see Montezuma Castle.  It is easy to see, and easy to imagine what it was like hundreds of years ago when the Sinagua people built and used the dwellings.  The main structure comprises five stories and twenty rooms, and was built over the course of three centuries.

European-Americans first observed the ruins in the 1860s, by then long-abandoned, and they named them for the famous Aztec emperor Montezuma in the mistaken belief that he had been connected to their construction.  However, the dwellings had been used, and abandoned well before Montezuma was born…but the name has stuck despite this fact.  Also, it is not really a Castle, but more like a condo-apartment type of complex…it is a series of living quarters.

There are also some dwellings close to, but not physically connected to, the ‘Castle’. 

     In this area, to the left of the Castle, there are many other dwellings…the Park Service calls this "Castle A".  They estimate that the last time any Sinagua occupied the area was around 1425 A.D.  They can only speculate as to why they built the dwellings in the cliffs (heat comes to my mind), and they have no idea why they abandoned the area.  Several Hopi and Yavapai trace their ancestries to early immigrants from the Montezuma Castle area.

  Beaver Creek runs right near the complex, and yearly flooding could have been the reason for building up on the cliffs.  There is a lot of evidence of farming, and not too far away is the Montezuma Well, a natural limestone sinkhole through which some 1,500,000 US gallons of water emerge each day from an underground spring.  This source of water provided water to the crops then, and now.  As early as the 700 AD time period water was being diverted through a canal.  We did not visit this area…again, the puppy dogs.

Along the path back to the visitor’s center, there is a audio visual display of what it looks like inside the Castle.  In 1951 they stopped allowing access to the dwellings due to damage caused by those visiting.  One had to climb a series of ladders to get into the dwellings.  My parents said that I have been here before…when I was around two years old, perhaps the summer before I turned two.  Of course, I don’t remember any of it, except for seeing pictures on slides which have long ago been destroyed…. Montezuma Castle is just a few miles off I-17 at exit 289.  It is an easy, accessible walk, and within an hour you can be back in your car…or you can take your time in the Visitor’s Center and be back on the road in two hours.  This is another one of those “driven by the sign on the Interstate” many times without stopping, or even looking at what it would take to see this National Monument.  (Ok family and friends...how many of you saw Marcia in one of the pictures?) via Blogger http://ift.tt/2pzNflq