#and i thought that we might all need some good family vibes to remind ourselves that the dghda family tag is pure as heck

[stil-lindigo]

beachside bonzoes

AN: hello everybody! this is something different to what i usually do so uh. please be kind. I was going to post this yesterday but with the cancelling of dirk gently i decided to put it off to today. i thought we might all need some fluffy rowdy time.

summary: the Oh No van’s AC breaks down and the rowdies terrorise a tourist beach. there’s family, anarchy and just the slightest bit of drummerwolf. also, the universe being super passive aggressive.

beachside bonzoes

Squinting against the bright, burning, sun, Amanda Brotzman downs the last of her water from her water bottle and groans.

‘Ugh,’ she mutters as she slumps back into her tattered passenger seat. ‘It’s like I’m drinking my own sweat.’

‘Ewww, boss!’ Vogel yelps in disgust from the backseat. ‘Now I’m roastin’ and grossed out.’

 ‘Gross-ting,’ Gripps’ voice is croaky from where he’s splayed out on the red seats, arm slung over his face. Cross lies beneath him, diligently fanning both Cross and Vogel with old magazines.

 ‘Toasting,’ he adds with a tired chuckle. Nearby, Beast emits a low growl.

 ‘We’re fucking burnt, boys,’ Amanda sighs and glances over at their shitty air conditioner chugging out metallic-smelling but cold air. Martin grunts at her from the driver’s seat before she can get a word out.

 ‘ ‘s on the highest setting, drummer. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make it work harder.’

 Amanda groans louder and rolls the grimy window down, staring out at the passing landscape with a tangible irritation. This suffocating heat had been plaguing them for a few days now and the new, thinner clothes they’d managed to snatch at a roadside op shop were already filthy from sweat. The Disney shirt Vogel had been so excited about had been the first casualty and was now operating as a bright, pink sweat rag.  

 Martin, strangely enough, didn’t seem to be too affected by the heat. In saying that though, the boys had basically stripped down to their boxers the moment the temperature went over 40 degrees. Amanda still held a sneaking suspicion that the one reason they weren’t going commando was because of her and Beast.

 At her millionth deliberating sigh, Martin taps her on the shoulder and silently hands her a cigarette, gesturing to the window.

 ‘Do I look that bad?’ she mutters wryly and he shrugs, a small smirk gracing his features.

 Without any preferable option, Amanda leans out the window and breathes in the addicting scent of smoke. Martin uses a pretty shitty brand but it’s all she’s got and right now, it tastes like heaven. Like something akin pathetic fallacy – a big word she learned in high school that she never used again after graduating – a miraculous cool breeze sweeps by, ruffling her tied up hair so that strands break free from the hair tie and swirl around her face.

 ‘Thank you, universe,’ she breathes blissfully and then immediately regrets it because, as always, the universe just loves to mess with people. The moment the words leave her mouth, their air conditioner makes a horrible, sputtering grate of a sound and wheezes out a foul-smelling cloud of smoke. Martin smacks it with increasing severity and, after the third strike, knocks the grate clean off. The air conditioner does not restart.

 ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me.’ Amanda could cry. And she only cries at dogs dying and beautiful canyons. From the backseat, Vogel whimpers out a long exasperated groan that, with Beast’s help, quickly devolves into a strung-out growl.

 ‘The hell.’ The short, plaintive word is the only indication that Gripps isn’t dead.

 Cross is already clambering over the others and pushes in between Amanda and Martin in the front. For a second, he squints at the smoking mess of an AC.

 ‘Yep,’ he grunts. ‘That’s busted.’

 ‘Fuck,’ Amanda drags her hands down her face and then snatches up her phone. As always, the battery is dying but it’s got enough. ‘Google maps, don’t fail me now. There better be a mechanic close by.’

 Within a few minutes, she’s found one only a few miles away. It’ll mean a detour from their usual, instinct-driven route but if it means a working air conditioner, they’re more than willing. It’s when they’re only a few minutes away that Amanda stops mid-instruction at the sight of a sliver of blue.

 ‘It’s the ocean!’ Amanda bolts upright and sticks her head out the window, watching as a sandy bay sneaks into view.

 ‘What is that?’ Vogel, marginally less comatose, leans over Amanda and squints at it. From behind him, Gripps does the same and suddenly all of the rowdies are tumbling into the front and Martin’s screeching to a stop.

 ‘That’s one big lake,’ Gripps says. ‘Where are the giant ducks?’

 ‘That’s a lotta…’ Vogel fumbles for a word. ‘Yellow. What’s it doing there?’

 ‘It’s sand,’ Cross grins. ‘It’s wannabe dirt.’

 ‘That’s cool! I wanna touch it!’ and with that, Vogel’s out the door and running down to the bay. Whooping, Cross and Gripps follow, towing a confused and disoriented Beast behind them.

 ‘C’mon, Boss!’ Vogel shouts back around halfway down the hill and Amanda glances back at Martin. He shrugs.

 ‘Why not? It’ll cool them off.’ He says. ‘Go on and join ‘em. I can take the van myself.’

 ‘Really? We can always take it later.’

 ‘Sooner the better, right? Also-’ Martin pauses and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t do well with sand.’

 ‘How Skywalker of you,’ Amanda smiles at his confused expression as she hops down to the ground.

 ‘I don’t get it.’

 ‘Yeah, sorry. It’s a reference,’ she says. ‘But don’t go alone. At least take Beast with you.’

 Ever since Blackwing separated the rowdies, Amanda’s felt wary of letting any of them go anywhere alone. It’s a paranoia that she’s just a little bit embarrassed by but she would be perfectly happy if she was never separated from this family – her family – ever again. Conveniently, Martin is an emotionally-aware vampire and, maybe its because of that that he lightens the mood with a low chuckle.

 ‘Don’t think I’m scary enough to get a discount on my own?’

 ‘You?’ Amanda laughs. ‘Scary? Absolutely not.’

 ‘Oh?’ Martin produces a cigarette and lights it, fitting it snug between his lips.

 ‘You’re too lovable. Like a big dog.’

 He stares at her for a second, his jaw working around the cigarette, then shrugs, puffing out a wispy cloud of sweet smoke.

 ‘I can live with that.’

 ‘Boss! Look!’ Amanda turns at the sound of Vogel’s voice and comes face to face with a giant inflatable duck with some unfortunately drawn features.

 ‘Did you steal this?’

 ‘Nah, some guys threw it at us when we came near so we’re keeping it!’ Vogel’s face splits into a wide toothy grin. ‘It’s super cool!’

 Behind him, Gripps comes into view, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and glasses with blinds on them.

 ‘Drummer! There’s a clothes shop here! It’s crazy!’ he yells, gesturing down at a small shack down by the pier. ‘Look at this!’  And with that, he pulls the cord on the glasses and snaps the blinds shut. ‘My world is broken!’

 ‘Okay, please tell me you paid for this,’ Amanda pauses as she takes in the sight of the curtain glasses. ‘Actually, don’t. Don't tell me you used real money to get that.’

 ‘It’s a cash bash!’ Cross jumps in between them, smiling wide as he gestures to his new baseball cap that reads ‘Money Maker’. Amanda knows her face is wearing an expression but she has no idea what it is.

 ‘Why,‘ she says.

 ‘We paid, boss! Don’t worry, we used the money we stole from those bad suit guys before!’ Vogel shoves a handful of $50 notes in her face and bounds away like a hyper kangaroo. ‘Let’s go fight a fish!’

 Cross and Gripps whoop and bellow out their grunts of agreement and skid down the sandy bank. From behind her, Martin lets out a content chuckle and grabs a few notes from the bundle.

 ‘Guess I’ll be going then,’ he says. ‘Beast?’

 The rainbow-haired creature scurries up and leaps into the passenger seat with palpable relief. Beyond her, Martin sits back, turns the ignition and the van purrs into life. Amanda’s about to join her boys down at the beach when-

 ‘Oi, drummer.’

 ‘Yeah?’

 ‘Woof,’ he winks, deliberately, his smirk matching the quiet intensity of his eyes, and then the van’s gone, barreling down the road.

 It’s hot out, Amanda reminds herself as she makes her way down to the ocean. Flushed cheeks don’t mean a thing.

 --

 The beach-side clothes shop actually had a pretty decent selection, Amanda finds as she peruses their clothes racks.

 More than decent, in fact. Some strange few could say that it was in tune with the universe.

 After a few minutes, she emerges from the shop’s air conditioned depths wearing a worn-down ‘Mexican Funeral’ top and some skin-tight swimming bottoms. The top is thin and soft from age and the lettering is a bit cracked but, as Amanda flaps it to let a cool breeze in, she finds that it’s completely what she’d expect. The store clerk’s face had lit up when she’d handed it over for him to ring up – apparently the band was ‘super obscure’ but ‘totally underrated’ and it wouldn’t even be stocked if the guy hadn’t insisted to ship some in.

 Damned universe. Too nosy for its own good.

 I get it, she thinks to the universe as she sprints down to the water, picking up speed. Call your brother. But not right now. Right now-

 And here, she kicks off her boots, her socks and jumps –

 -right now, I’m cooling off.

 With a thunderous splash, she’s underwater and the change is instant - the water is shockingly cold, biting into her skin like a knife before her body catches up with the plunge in temperature. Bubbles foam around her in clouds and she grins, giddy off the relief of the sea on her burning skin and watches water rush past her as she boosts herself to the surface. She breaks into open air to the whoops and cheers of her boys. They’re all around her, wet and dirty and sweaty and hers and she bundles them into a tight, slippery hug, laughing and shouting with them as they drag her into their rhythm. It’s dumb, this is so dumb, playing like toddlers seeing the sea for the first time but then she remembers the years she spent in fear in her dim, crusty room and – even more than that – the boys, for them, this might be their first time so she lets the world go and blows raspberries into the air. Cross squeezes their inflatable duck ring around her and he and Gripps haul her up and carry her towards the horizon, like she’s a queen on a yellow plastic throne.

 ‘We’re fucking insane!’ Cross howls over the crash of the waves and they roar, together, with their squeaking inflatable duck and handfuls of seaweed and wet sand. High off exhilaration, Vogel dives underneath and pops out of the water with a starfish in each hand, giggling.

 ‘You’re a star, kid!’ Amanda speaks like a talk show host and Vogel beams.

 ‘I don’t know what that is!’ he hollers and in an instant, the starfish are chucked back into the water and he’s leaping at Amanda, arms outstretched. ‘Capsiiiize!’

 They go down like bowling pins, splashing back into the water. Amanda resurfaces, spitting out saltwater and picking seaweed out of her hair but she laughs and splashes Vogel right in his mischievous face.

 ‘You dick!’

 The plunge doesn't seem to slow down Cross and Gripp’s momentum and they drag up Vogel from under his armpits, slapping him on his back good-naturedly before they promptly dunk him back into the water. Instantly rebounding, Vogel flaps around his wet hair like a dog and smacks a clump of wet sand into Cross’ hair.

 It’s pretty dumb how much fondness she feels for these mud-slinging idiots. But she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of their reckless energy, their chaos that pumps life through her veins. Friends, family - they’re her boys and Amanda doesn’t think she could love them more. For a moment, a weird anxiety finds her (an attack? no, although she hates that she still feels a stab of fear at the thought of them) and she wonders if they know – she hopes they know how much she loves them.

 Suddenly, the ground is falling away and Amanda’s abruptly torn from her thoughts as Gripps unceremoniously chucks her onto his back.

 ‘Get yer head out of the clouds, drummer!’ he yells as he charges into the fray of the mudfight. ‘We gotta get some dirt on ya!’

 With bellows and laughter thrumming in her ears, Amanda leaves behind her cloudy thoughts and shrieks out a giddy battle cry.

 --

 Grant Brantley has worked at his little garage for a little over a decade. And maybe its because his business is right next to a tourist-magnet beach that brings in weirdoes from all over that makes his new customers a bit more normal. The man’s fine (even though his disproportionately-coloured hair is a bit odd). It’s more his friend that puts Grant off. She’s got brightly dyed hair and kind of a-a pale sort of complexion and he thinks she’s shaven off her eyebrows which makes her scurry-walk a bit more off-putting. Also she keeps on sniffing his tools. He just hopes she doesn’t start licking them.

 ‘Hey, um – ‘he turns to the man who said his name was Martin and then did not give a surname which makes Grant’s job a bit more difficult because usually he refers to the lads as misters but now he’s just gotta say ‘sir’ which makes him feel like a chimneysweep or a needy orphan and in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s older than Martin but what can you do? ‘-sir, your uh…could you please ask your friend to stop sniffing the merchandise? I swear they haven’t gone off.’

 It’s supposed to be a joke – an icebreaker, you know- but Martin nods, seriously, as if it's a legitimate concern.

 ‘Hey, Beastie,’ he clicks his fingers and the woman happily scuttles over, abandoning the outdoor display of wrenches. Grant thinks she’s talking to Martin but – god, she’s gotta be foreign, right? He can’t even understand what language he’s speaking. It sounds like she’s imitating a chain-smoking frog but – c’mon, Grant, don’t be mean, it’s not as if you’re a well-travelled bloke in the first place, what would you know about foreign culture. He chances a friendly smile at her and she returns it with a mouth of sharp teeth and a high whistle. Oh boy.

 ‘So,’ Martin clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he shifts on the step he’s sat upon. ‘How long will it take to fix the AC?’

 Thank god, familiar territory.

 ‘Oh, it’s a simple fix, really. An hour or so,’ Grant scratches his head thoughtfully as he takes in Martin’s hulking van. He thinks those are bullet holes peppered into its graffitied hide but honestly, he’s dealt with weirder.

 Upsell, he reminds himself, like those persuasive kids at the fast food places. ‘I could easily spruce up some stuff. She’s a bit of a clanker. And it won’t cost much more.’

 ‘Nah,’ Martin says not unkindly, and produces a battered pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his loose jeans. ‘Gotta get back soon.’

 Grant politely flicks out a lighter before Martin can and holds the flame steady for the other man. Martin nods appreciatively and, miraculously, Grant feels a bit less wary round the guy.

 ‘Got someone waitin’ for you?’ he says as he unlatches the car door and begins to work. From the corner of his eye, he sees Martin smile to himself.

 ‘Yeah, a few guys.’

 ‘And a girl, I bet,’ Grant replies. ‘Or a guy,’ he adds, catching himself at the sight of Martin’s odd expression. ‘Either is fine. Or none. I don’t mind. Love is love and all that.’

 He’s babbling now but Grant tends to get that way when he’s nervous. ‘Sorry, don't mean to impose. You looked mighty happy there is all. And don’t get me wrong, you can look happy about friends – I ain’t the type of guy to think we lads can’t have good, non-sexy relationships – but also, you know-’

 Martin laughs a small laugh but it’s got some mirth behind it so Grant trails off and hopes his furious backpedalling worked. The white-haired man puffs on his cigarette and leans his head to one side in a bit of a conceding shrug.

 ‘Yeah,’ he allows, after a second. ‘Yeah. I guess it’s a girl.’

 Martin doesn’t seem like he’s going to say any more on it so Grant doesn’t push it. Mentally, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Gosh, his big mouth has gotten him into problems in the past – he’s just glad that this time the weird guy seems alright. Might be the cigarettes. Hey, it might be a good idea to keep his supply stocked then, right? Right. Okay, good thinking, Brantley. Now suggest it without also implying he’s hooked because god knows you’ve come across some kooks who were adamant about their independence, honestly -

 ‘Hey, we’ve got some more cigs inside,’ Grant blurts out and gestures towards his little shop. ‘They’re right next to the cash register.’

 Martin looks surprised for a second.

 ‘Don’t think I’ll steal them? I’m just a stranger.’

 Grant shrugs.

 ‘They’re only $5. I’m not that hung up on money,’ he pauses. ‘Also I can see you through the window.’

 The white-haired man huffs out a chuckle. ‘Mm. Smart building design.’

 He stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets and gives an appreciative nod to Grant.

 ‘Thanks, Mr Brantley. Might take you up on your offer.’

 ‘Might?’

 ‘Gotta check the brands first,’ he grunts jokingly and he makes his way into the service shop.

 Grant turns back to the van and mentally dances a happy jig. He knows the type of guy Martin is – he’s met a wide bunch of people in this job – and that exchange was good, as in it was a Big Deal in its goodness. The guy feels less intimidating now that they’ve had that conversation. In fact, now he thinks he shouldn’t watch through the window in that half-looking-but-also-could-just-be-engrossed-in-the-rear-view-mirror way he’s cultivated.

 The choice of whether or not he spies on Martin, however, gets thrown to the side at the sound a familiar revving engine. Grant groans and puts his head in his hands. Really? Now?

 With a screech, a sleek, scarlet sports car rounds the corner and skids to a stop directly in front of the workshop. Its occupants, a group of four, tank-top wearing young men, clamber out with whoops and guffaws. Grant sees that one of their shirts simply reads ‘You Suck’. Another, who he knows has not served, is wearing dog tags on a necklace. One of the men, the shortest, steps forward and leers at Grant.

 ‘Hey, Mister Brantley,’ he sneers. ‘What’s up?’

 ‘Hello, Sherwood,’ Grant steps away from Martin’s van and approaches the teenager with a palpable reluctance. ‘Are you drunk again?’

 Immediately, Sherwood’s smile is replaced by a snarl and he jabs an accusatory finger at Grant.

 ‘Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ he hisses. ‘Don’t forget my dad owns these parts. You complain and I’ll kick your ass out of here. You’re already on thin ice with your asshat son.’

 ‘I’m –’ Grant sighs. This is the worst. ‘I’m not going to complain.’

 ‘Good,’ Sherwood sneers. ‘Go get me n’ my boys some smokes.’

 Grant is about to go in when he remembers – Martin. The white-haired man is staring at him over the countertop, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand, and from where he’s standing, Grant can see he’s put down a $5 bill next to the till. The older man shrugs, overcome by embarrassment, and brushes past Martin apologetically. With a sigh, he begins piling boxes of cigarettes into a plastic shopping bag.

 ‘They ain’t gonna pay for those, are they.’

 It’s more of a statement than a question really and Grant grimaces.

 ‘No. They’re not. But what can I do?’ He ties off the end of the bag with a forceful twist. ‘Charlie – that’s my boy, really smart kid, he’s gonna do great things – Charlie’s gotten into a fight with Sherwood over there. His dad owns this land and money ain’t real consistent – this is a tourist place, you know.’

 Grant doesn’t completely know why he’s telling Martin this stuff.

 Something about him makes you wanna spill your beans, he thinks to himself. Whether in fear or not.

 A striking yelp jolts him out of his thoughts and his gaze whips to the boys standing in his parking lot who are currently fending off a rainbow-haired woman. He sprints out of the shop to find her – Beast – circling them on all fours and forcing them back with intermittent snarls.

 ‘Ma’am!’ Grant calls out, a bit lost. ‘Uh-ma’am please uh-’

 Sherwood’s head shoots up at the sound of Grant’s voice.

 ‘Oi, Brantley!’ he shouts, furious. ‘Is she yours?!’

 ‘No! Sherwood, she’s uh – a customer- ’

 ‘A customer?’ one of Sherwood’s friends shrieks out. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

 ‘Bullshit!’ Sherwood screams and Beast answers with an even louder growl that sends the boys backing away towards their car. Sherwood levels an icy glare towards Grant. ‘Look at you, using this bitch to chase us off. You could’ve just given us the smokes, you dick!’

 ‘Sherwood, wait-’

 ‘Beast.’

 Martin steps out beyond Grant who is currently fumbling for words and approaches the woman. She whips around at his footsteps but immediately softens at the sight of him. Grant’s close enough to hear that she says something that sounds like ‘meanie’. Meanwhile, Sherwood and his friends have already slipped into their sleek car and with a round of middle fingers, they’re hurtling away at breakneck speeds.

 Grant still doesn’t know what just happened.

 ‘Oh boy,’ he whispers to himself and his legs fold under him. Martin looks over with a placated and somewhat remorseful-looking Beast beside him. ‘What a shitshow. Pardon my language.’

 ‘Sorry,’ Martin says.

 ‘Don’t trouble yourself, son,’ Grant gestures offhandedly as Martin takes a seat on the concrete next to him. ‘This was comin’ sooner or later. In fact, I wish I could’ve done it myself instead of your friend obliging.’

 ‘Mm,’ Martin hums in agreement. ‘That’d be a sight to see.’

 ‘You know, Sherwood really ain’t that bad either,’ Grant chortles at Martin’s expression. ‘Yeah, I know. He used to be an okay kid, though. I think he got messed up in something shady a while back and now he feels invincible. He just needs a bit of a wake up call.’

 Martin wordlessly picks at his teeth, as if attempting to dislodge a morsel of food. Beside him, Beast swings back and forth on her haunches.

 ‘You scared, Mr Brantley?’ he asks, quietly. ‘Sherwood’s probably gonna go tell his pa.’

 ‘Oh yeah, I’m a little fearful,’ Grant sighs. ‘But you gotta roll with these punches.’

 ‘Damn straight,’ Martin claps him on the back and gets to his feet and stretches, yawning wide.

 ‘Tired?’

 He shrugs.

 ‘Just ready for a meal.’

 --

 It’s around when Vogel’s finishing up on burying Cross in sand that Amanda notices the ice-cream.

 ‘Hey!’ she yells from where she’s floating on the inflatable duck. ‘Look! People have ice cream!’

 At her shout, a number of people give them weird looks but she’s used to it by now. Weird is good when it means you get a strip of beach all to yourself. Gripps arises from the shallows where he’s arranged seaweed on his forehead like a wig and scares a nearby unwitting couple.

 ‘We’ve got ice cream here?’ he says. ‘Why aren’t we eating it then dying from brainfreeze?’

 As if to demonstrate, Vogel flops to the ground in mock-unconsciousness, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth with carefree abandon.

 ‘Brainfreeze!’ he echoes and from underneath, Cross fist bumps his way out of his sandy casket.

 ‘Waffle cones!’ he yells and somehow produces a sun hat to slap over Vogel’s head. ‘They’re good crispy.’

 Amanda’s already wading up to meet them, dragging her loyal duck behind her as she approaches the still partially-buried Cross.

 ‘You still got the money, Money-maker?’ she asks wryly and he slings off his cap to show the notes stuffed into the seam.

 ‘You know it, boss,’ he flashes a toothy grin. ‘Get me a bubblegum.’

 ‘Sweet tooth,’ she pokes him on his nose and he laughs, loud and mischievous. Suddenly, Vogel drops into Cross’ lap and grabs Amanda’s face by her cheeks.

 ‘Pineapple for me, boss!’ he grins from ear to ear. From nearby, Gripps adds ‘And boysenberry!’

 ‘Boys-enberry!’ Vogel repeats and giggles at his own joke. ‘Boys!’

 Rolling her eyes, Amanda pecks Vogel on the forehead and revels in the brief silence that follows as he blinks up at her, beaming.

 ‘We get it, Vogel,’ she says then slinks out of his grip even as he laughs and whoops with the other boys.

 ‘Love you, boss!’ he calls after her and even though she groans from embarrassment and waves them away, Amanda can’t help the grin the creeps across her features.

 Surprisingly, the ice cream stall doesn't have a very long queue – probably because Amanda and her boys only noticed it after the big crowds left - and she gets to the front sooner than anticipated.

 ‘Cool shirt,’ the girl serving her comments and smiles at her. ‘They’re a great band.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Amanda slaps the dollar bills down on the counter and thinks passive-aggressively to the universe to chill. ‘I like your septum piercing.’

 ‘Oh! Thanks,’ she giggles and flicks her long aqua-blue pigtails over her back, revealing her own shirt that bears a faded illustration of a Rorschach symbol floating in an eyeball. Unbidden, Amanda feels a smile spread across her face. Good times.

 ‘Do you want these in a box?’ the girl asks, unaware of Amanda’s thoughts.

 ‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Amanda says and then, just for good measure, she winks and adds in a secretive tone, ‘As good as I am with my hands, four at once is a bit much.’

 At that, ice-cream girl laughs, really laughs, and her tanned cheeks tinge with red.

 ‘Nice,’ she says and hands Amanda the holder full of ice cream cones with a smile. ‘Come again soon!’

 She doesn’t even get a block away from the stall before Amanda’s already licking her own salted caramel ice cream cone. The taste of it is sweet and relieving after a day of fish and chips and trashy oil-soaked food. Also, she got a strawberry cone and flavoured ice cream cones are one of the better inventions of humanity. The slap of her store-bought flip flops on the burning pavement and the cold creeping through her body from the ice cream leads her into an almost-mesmerising trance. As she walks, she makes up a tune to hum and its like merging a few of her favourite songs together, a mashup of the metal radio station the Oh No Van tunes into from time to time. For some reason, Amanda wonders what Martin would’ve chosen from the ice cream stall.

 Is there a nicotine flavor? she thinks to herself, wryly. But the thought brings back a memory from earlier that day – when Martin had given her the cigarette. And it’s as Amanda’s licking her rapidly melting ice cream that she remembers that it had already been lit and halfway done by the time he’d handed it to her. Which means -

 ‘Fuck!’ Amanda saves herself from tripping just in time and steadies the ice cream cones in their respective holders. There’s melted ice cream all over her hand now but there’s enough still in the cone that the boys will be happy. ‘Jeez, get yourself together.’

 From behind her comes a piercing wolf whistle.

 ‘Hey! Sweet cheeks! Bend over again!’

 Amanda’s eyes shoot open wide and she turns around excruciatingly slow to come face to face with two burly guys coming up behind her.

 ‘Excuse me?’ she’s trying to inject as much disgust as she can into the words, but apparently these idiots have skulls made of steel because nothing’s getting through it. They snort and guffaw at her expression. One air-thrusts at her.

 ‘Jesus Christ,’ Amanda mutters to herself then faces the two guys directly. ‘What is this, 2005? Get a hobby, you walking troglodytes.’

 The men make mockingly awe-struck gasps. The air-humper steps forward to close the distance between them.

 ‘Oooh, you know big words! Doesn’t make you better than us.’ he says in a sing-song tone. Amanda considers stuffing her icecream down his throat and decides it’d be too kind. ‘And we were just being nice. Jesus, learn how to take a compliment.’

 ‘It doesn’t take much to be better than you,’ Amanda replies coldly. ‘Knowing big words like ‘troglodyte’ should immediately put me out of your league.’

 The man’s smile falls instantly and he makes a grab for her shoulder but she’s already dodged and is considering kicking his incredibly kick-able groin when the familiar growl of an engine roars up behind her.

‘Drummer,’ Martin says in acknowledgement. Beyond him, Beast waves furiously with a new wrench which still has its price tag stuck on. ‘Nice ice creams.’

 ‘Thanks.’

 Martin glances at the two men standing before them and his gaze instantly cools by a few degrees. Even though they’re obviously wary of the newcomer, the two guys have stuck around which either makes them even more idiotic than she originally thought or – nope, they’re just idiots.

 ‘ ‘s there a problem?’ he asks, his tone icy.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Amanda turns back to look at the pair of walking examples of toxic masculinity and raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Is there?’

 The two guys mumble something incoherent – probably an insult of some kind – but they hurry past, their pace quickening the longer Martin stares after them.

 ‘Troglodytes,’ she mutters.

 ‘Nice insult.’

 ‘I learnt it off a TV show.’

 ‘Even better.’

 ‘Oi! Boss!’ Vogel comes barreling up the hill and it’s only Amanda’s quick reflexes that save the ice cream cones from being toppled onto the pavement. He steers around quickly, leaping up onto the hood on the van in one swift motion and waves at the occupants inside. ‘You found Martin and Beastie!’

 ‘And you got my Bubblegum!’ Cross snatches his cone from the box quickly and immediately bites into the ice cream. His ensuing expression is somehow triumphant and regretful at the same time. For some reason, Gripps does the exact same thing for his cone and does not get different results.

 ‘Hey, drummer,’ Cross manages to say as he recovers. ‘What was up with those brickheads that were here just now?’

 Martin clicks his tongue in disgust and taps the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

 ‘They were peacocking, boys,’ he says grimly and the resulting wave of disapproving growls is deafening.

 ‘Way old school,’ Gripps mutters. ‘Way crusty.’

 ‘Damn tail-flickers,’ Vogel seconds.

 Cross licks his lips and glares after the retreating forms of the two men.

 ‘Anybody else hungry?’ he hisses and the other rowdies bellow in agreement, already moving to chase after them.

 ‘Boys.’

 And like that, they halt, shifting to Martin for direction even though Vogel’s foot still taps away on the concrete, impatient.

 ‘We got a bigger meal waiting for us,’ he smirks dangerously and the rowdies erupt in cheers and congratulatory roars, already clambering into the hollow depths of the van. ‘Ready for dinner?’

 With a fond lick and snicker, Beast vacates her seat for Amanda and leaps into the back to curl up on the red velvet floor. Amanda settles herself into the leathery front seat, slams the car door behind her and turns the AC up to the max setting, whistling appreciatively at the blast of cold air sweeping through the van.

 ‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you?’ she grins at Martin and he answers with a toothy chuckle.

 ‘I get around,’ he replies then slams on the ignition, lurching forward and bellowing over the growing howls of their rowdies.

 ‘Now who’s hungry for take-out?!’

 --

 Amanda wolfs down the last of her Chinese food from its plastic box and sinks back into the sand with a content sigh. At her left, the six-pack of beer she bought at the convenience store remains submerged in a blue plastic bucket Vogel had stolen and filled with cold seawater.

 ‘Beer over sandcastles,’ he’d reasoned as he handed it to her. She couldn’t really argue with that.

 It’s cooled down now that the evening’s creeping in and she appreciates the cool breeze. It’s a bit of a relief to relax after pummeling those frat boys into the hood of their own car. Amanda’s hand automatically twitches at the memory of swinging Beast’s wrench into the headlight and laughing as the glass had showered over her.

 Kind of dangerous, now that she thinks about it. But she made it out unscathed. So it was probably universally predestined to happen. Amanda grabs a beer bottle and lifts it up to the sky in a toast.

 Rest in peace, car, she thinks to herself then downs a mouthful. I barely knew thee.

 Quietly, she reflects on the pit stop they made before returning to the beach: a garage owned by a Mr Brantley who she only knew from overhearing Martin’s brief conversation with him. Seemed like a sweet guy. Owned a decent brand of smokes. And he’d patted Martin’s shoulder like he was his dad, despite them seeming to be around the same age. Weirdest thing about it was that Martin let him.

 The sun peeks out from behind a purple-pink cloud and she squints. Nearer to the horizon, her rowdies are still splashing in the ocean with their boundless energy. They’re the only ones still there seeing as most of the beach-goers had left around an hour ago but they make enough noise that it would be easy to mistake a crowd still remaining. The stragglers still tend to give them a wide berth and it suits them just fine. Struck by inspiration, Amanda sits up and she howls, letting her voice taper off into the sky. To her utmost joy, her family answers with matching enthusiasm.

 One of them breaks off from the pack and lopes up to sit on the bank next to her. Wordlessly, she hands him a bundled-up dry shirt she’d been using as a pillow to dry off his sopping wet hair with.

 ‘How are you still wearing your glasses?’

 Martin grunts and points at the green band tying the legs together behind his head.

 ‘Rubber bands. Versatile.’

 ‘Uh huh. But you still can’t see with all the droplets on them.’

 He shrugs and ruffles out his semi-dry hair into a comically fluffy-looking mohawk.

 ‘Survived through worse. Remember the red goggles?’

 Amanda laughs at the memory but the reminder of Wendimoor sends her thoughts towards someone else. She sinks back into the sand with a low groan.

 Todd.

 They’d parted ways after the Wendimoor escapade a few weeks ago and she’d promised to check in from time to time. But, somehow, the prospect of a first phone call after recently making up with him is scary as shit. The stupid thing is that she can’t even put her finger on what is so terrifying about it. They’d sent each other little dumb texts (mainly pictures of the new detective agency and then games of ‘Spot Mona in this messy workplace!’) in the first week and a half but even that mode of communication had died out. Yeesh. ‘Died out’. Bad choice in words, considering the trouble they got themselves into.

 Speaking of that, Todd could be on a new case right now. Todd could be in trouble.

 And yet, she still doesn’t want to call.              

 Amanda sits herself up, shaking sand out of her hair, to find Martin staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can hear you thinking there, drummer,’ he mutters softly. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

 She runs a hand through her hair sheepishly.

 ‘I’ve gotta call my brother.’

 ‘Toad?’

 ‘His name is Todd. But Toad totally works. He’ll love it.’

 Martin looks out thoughtfully towards the horizon.

 ‘You’ve got time. Phone’s in the van right now.’

 Amanda chews on her lip for a second.

 ‘I mean. I could always do it tomorrow.’

 ‘Putting it off isn’t very punk.’

 ‘Oh, fuck off,’ she snickers and punches him in the arm good-naturedly. She’s 90% sure he doesn’t even feel it.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he continues. ‘What’s keepin’ you?’

 Her smile falters and her eyes dart down, away. It’s personal, this stuff, family stuff. But she’s gotta face this at some point, doesn’t she? And here, in the dying sunlight with a fresh pack of beer…

 She knocks her head back and gulps down the rest of bottle’s contents, hissing as it burns on the way down. On her left, Martin watches her with a half-cocked eyebrow.

 ‘Okay, so,’ she slams her hands down as she starts but they kind of just disturb a sand pile which irks her a bit. ‘Me n’ Todd have technically made up but like, there’s still a lot of weird boundaries here and I don’t know, my head’s still not the greatest and I-’

 She trails off as she looks over at Martin. He’s listening, really listening, with his eyes trained directly on her and his genuine intensity makes an irrational guilt rise up in her.

 Stop sidestepping the issue, she tells herself and sighs.

 ‘I’m scared of getting close to him again,’ she says finally. ‘Old Todd was a complete shithead built entirely on lies. And New Todd is…new. And I know he’s trying. But I don’t know how New Todd is going to be.’

 Amanda looks out towards the horizon. She feels tired, for some reason. There’s something else she wanted to say, something about her not wanting to get hurt again, but that seems a bit too cheesy. And, as she looks over to gauge Martin’s reaction, she finds her eyes meeting his and she feels like he already knows.

 Damn emotion-sensing vampires.

 He releases a gravelly sigh and looks out at the sea as well. His glasses have dried off somewhat and now they shine, reflecting the weakening sunlight onto his well-defined features.

 ‘You won’t know until you try,’ he says after a little while. ‘Give it a shot. It’ll be better than nothing.’

 ‘Will it?’

 ‘You don’t let opportunities pass you by, drummer,’ at this, he turns to her and grins. ‘You tie a note to a brick and throw it at them.’

 ‘…sweet talker,’ she mumbles because it makes her smile, as dumb as it is, and she props her elbows on her knees, trying to hide the dusting of red spreading across her cheeks.

Dammit, he’s right. Or she’s right. At some point, her wariness had lessened and now she thinks it’s the only course of action really left for her. The fear’s still there, simmering, but it’s tolerable. And god, she’s faced down psychopathic shape witches and, even worse, dudebros so what the hell. With a purposeful exhale, she dusts the sand off her knees and gets to her feet.

 ‘Okay. I’m doing it,’ she announces and Martin nods in encouragement.

 ‘It’s in the cupholder,’ he says and turns away, giving her privacy as she makes her way up to the van parked behind them.

 Amanda’s grateful he doesn’t follow. This is something she needs to do alone. Desperately, she remembers what she’s about to do and her brain races to formulate a plan but, goddamnit, the walk to the van really isn’t that long and then she’s there, the phone is in her hand and she’s punching in Todd’s phone number.

 Amanda breathes out a shaky exhale, her other hand clenching into a fist at her side, and then hits the green call button.

 --

 ‘Dirk, there a lot of black cats out there,’ Farah explains exasperatedly. On the opposite side of the diner table, Dirk stops shoveling his strawberry pancakes into his mouth and looks up, eyes twinkling with inspiration.

 ‘Maybe we can make an ad specifically catered to black cats associated with a range of disappearances or gorey murders!’ After a second, Dirk’s beaming expression falters. ‘Wait, actually –’

 ‘Why are we even using our resources on this?’ Todd interrupts as he picks at his own scrambled eggs and toast. Farah gives him a pointed look.

 ‘Because it’s a liability! We’ve got to take care of loose ends!’ she explains. ‘And, maybe we can harness its-its sharkness and use that for ourselves!’

 ‘I don’t know, Farah,’ Todd mutters. ‘I don’t think it’ll be that easy to control kitten-shark. Because, you know, it’s literally a shark in a kitten. Like, what if we forget to take out its litterbox one day? Do we just get chomped?’

 Dirk lifts up his maple-syrupy fork in his I-have-a-point-to-make way.

 ‘But Todd, I should say this,’ he says. ‘The kitten-shark did seem to like me. Maybe I’m the key!’

 ‘Yeah and what a shocker that would be,’ Todd says wryly and moves to pick up his fork so that he can eat more of his meal. Immediately, Dirk slaps him hard on his shoulder. ‘Whoa, what the hell?’

 ‘That’s. Mona!’ Dirk states deliberately and holds up an identical fork. ‘This is your fork!’

 ‘How can you even tell?’

 Dirk blinks at him, wide-eyed.

 ‘It’s obvious!’

 Before Todd can succinctly point out why that is such bullshit, his phone buzzes loudly from its place by his plate and he nearly forgets how to breathe when he sees the caller ID.

 ‘Holy shit!’ he says, snatching it up. ‘Oh my god, it’s Amanda!’

 ‘Oh, amazing!’ Dirk claps his hands together giddily and reaches for the phone. ‘We haven’t spoken to her in ages!’

 ‘Wait what? No-I-just let me-’ Todd hits the answer button quickly and gets out of their booth, striding into a quieter, more private area. ‘Amanda? Amanda, are you okay?’

 ‘Uh. Yeah. Just calling to check in with you,’ It’s thin and tinny but it’s her voice, not the voice of some would-be kidnapper, so Todd breathes a sigh of relief. ‘I call for things other than disasters, Todd.’

 ‘Yeah,’ he laughs, a bit nervous. ‘Sorry. Habit, you know.’

 ‘Right,’ she says and it’s kind of awkward but a background noise catches his attention.

 ‘Are those…waves?’

 ‘Yeah, I’m at a beach. It was super hot today and our AC broke so we’re hanging out here now.’

 ‘And how are your uh-,‘ Todd fumbles for a word for her gang. ‘-your friends?’

 ‘The rowdies? Oh, they’re loving it. They’re like, half naked and just fucking around in the water,’ Amanda’s voice gains a conspiratorial tone. ‘I’m including Beast in this description by the way so you can report back to Dirk.’

 Todd sniggers as he imagines how Dirk would react to the insinuation.

 ‘Sounds like you guys are having a good time.’

 ‘We are! Well, most of us. Martin doesn’t like sand.’

 ‘Wow, very Skywalker,’ he replies and smiles at the sound of Amanda’s laugh.

 ‘Yeah, that’s what I said!’ she says and, yet again, there’s a short, tense silence. ‘So uh, how’s it going on your end?’

 ‘Oh, well, we’re at a diner right now: me and Dirk and Farah. Dirk got a huge stack of strawberry pancakes that he’s definitely gonna regret soon.’

 ‘Pancakes? Isn’t it kinda late for that?’

 ‘Yeah, Dirk says evening pancakes are a thing. Mona’s here too but I’m still not entirely sure what she is,’ Todd squints back at his booth from which Dirk furiously waves with a fork that could or could not be Mona.

 ‘Sweet. So no new case yet?’

 ‘Well, you know how it works. A case’ll come when it wants to.’

 Amanda snorts.

 ‘Soooo you guys are just sitting on your asses?’

 ‘No! We-we’re trying to find the kitten-shark right now. Farah says it’s a liability we’ve gotta take responsibility of.’

 ‘Dude, it’s been ages. That kitten is long gone. Although, I guess you can’t really argue when Farah’s in charge,’ she adds sympathetically. Todd nods in agreement then realizes she can’t see him.

 ‘Yeah, she can be really scary.’

 ‘But also scary hot.’

 ‘Amanda!’ he splutters and over the line she breaks into laughter. Again, it devolves into a strained sort of silence before Amanda coughs a bit self consciously.

 ‘Um. How have you been feeling, Todd?’ she says. ‘The attacks, they-’

 ‘Yeah, uh,’ Todd continues. ‘You know, they’re a thing. But the pills help. Yep.’

 A pause.

 ‘This is weird,’ Todd says.

 ‘So weird,’ Amanda seconds. ‘I need to be like, 200% more drunk for this.’

 ‘You’re drunk?’

 ‘How do you think this phone call is even happening?’

 ‘True. I should’ve guessed that.’

 ‘You’re part of a detective agency, man.’

 ‘Technically, the detective part is all Dirk.’

 ‘Doesn’t mean you can slack off, slacker.’

 The ensuing silence is marginally less awkward. Todd counts that as a win.

 ‘I think I need to go soon,’ Amanda says quickly and Todd rushes to respond.

 ‘Oh! Okay!’ he says. ‘Um. Stay safe! And uh – wear protection?’

 For a second, there’s just the sound of waves coming in from Amanda’s end then-

 ‘What. The fuck, Todd.’

 ‘I-I don’t know what you guys do so-!’

 ‘Are you fucking kidding m-’Amanda makes a soul-crushing groan. She kind of sounds like she’s dying. ‘We’re not, like, having orgies 24/7 or something, Todd! Jesus Christ!’

 ‘-you never tell me what you do! I’m just trying to cover all bases, here.’

 Another silence, this one more weighted than the others.

 ‘Was that a fucking pun.’

 ‘What?’

 ‘I can’t believe you!’

 ‘That was not – I mean, I guess it was – ’

 ‘You made a pun about - ’

 ‘- it was absolutely not intentional – ’

 ‘Okay, I am definitely leaving right now. Bye.’

 ‘Wait, Amanda!’ Todd exclaims and exhales in relief as the sound of the ocean doesn’t immediately cut off. Amana breathes out a despairing sigh.

 ‘Yeah?’

 Todd swallows down his nervousness.

 ‘I love you, Amanda. Thank you for calling,’ he says quietly. On the other end, the sound of waves. He’s getting used to the silences now. ‘You don’t have to answer or anythi-‘

 ‘Love you too, Todd,’ she blurts out. ‘Bye.’

 And then she’s gone and Todd is left feeling oddly satisfied with what was, all in all, a very strange conversation.

 ‘Yes!’ he hisses to himself and skips back over to his booth. Dirk and Farah look at him expectantly.

 ‘Well?’ Dirk asks. Todd grins mischievously.

 ‘Amanda wants you to know they’re at a beach and Beast is half naked.’

 ‘Oh for god’s sakes – ‘

 --

 Amanda nearly cracks her screen with how forcefully she ends the phone call and throws the device unceremoniously into the glovebox. Jesus Christ, her face is still red and she buries it in her hands for a good few seconds, desperately willing away the embarrassment.

 ‘Wear protection’. God.

 Still. That end part. That was okay.

 With a sigh, she closes the car door and climbs down the sandy slope. Martin doesn’t seem to have moved but now he’s smoking a fresh cigarette and he gestures for her to sit down.

 ‘I’m guessing it went well, then,’ he says as she slumps into the ground beside him.

 ‘Well yeah but you are an emotionally-conscious vampire,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘No need to guess.’

 ‘You’re smiling, drummer. Doesn’t take my abilities to know,’ he chuckles as she sputters in embarrassment. ‘Aaand there it goes.’

 ‘You’re so...’ Amanda grumbles, turning away. ‘May sand eternally plague you.’

 ‘Mm. Very ‘celestial punishment’. I like it.’

 In response, she kicks a wave of sand over his legs. Annoyingly, he doesn’t even move.

 ‘C’mon, drummer,’ he hands her a fresh bottle of beer from the bucket. ‘Truce.’

 She squints at him suspiciously and then snatches it out of his hands. Appeased, he leans back on his haunches and puffs out a cloud of smoke, content. For some reason, it strikes her in that moment as she sips from her bottle how bestial he really feels. Not savage, not like that. It’s more like he embodies the slow grace of a natural hunter, a predator. Eternally watchful.

 Amanda wonders, in her stupor of silent contemplation, if he came to her because she howled for him.

 ‘Somethin’ wrong, drummer?’

 She didn’t even notice that he’d moved to look back at her.

 ‘Just wondering if we’re leaving soon.’

 He shrugs and inclines his head towards her.

 ‘It’s your call. Remember, drummer, you’re the boss.’

 She laughs, shortly.

 ‘The boss? It took me a whole day to hype myself up for a phone call. With my brother.’

 ‘You did it, though. That’s something.’

 From him, the phrase somehow doesn’t seem like an empty platitude. Amanda stares at him for a second then sighs, conceding. And maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s how she’s so emotionally vulnerable after that phone call that she started waxing poetry. All she knows is that she suddenly feels very tired and she leans into Martin, her head sliding into the crook of his neck. His skin is still damp from the sea and the water seeps into her hair like cool, massaging fingers.

 ‘This doesn’t feel real,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible. ‘Any moment now, I’ll wake up in my bedroom and go through my list of pills to take and walk around my dumb, tiny house with the door that’s always locked and-’

 Amanda trails off as she feels the comforting weight of Martin’s fingers stroke through her hair.

 ‘It’s real, drummer,’ he says gruffly. ‘We’re here.’

 On any other day, this would seem impossible. But today, Amanda smashed a car, broke a frat boy’s nose, drank two bottles of bucket beer and made a phone call to her brother. So she can’t really help herself from leaning up and kissing Martin lightly on his cheek, smiling at the feeling of his bushy beard scratching at her skin. And then she’s on her feet and running down to the waves, joining her rowdies who welcome her with shouts and cheers, desperately affirming to her that this is her life, this is real, and she captures each one’s face in her hands and kisses them on their forehead, their nose, their cheeks.

 ‘I love you,’ she whispers into them and they hear and celebrate with whoops and laughter and glee and there’s no more silence. No more empty, cramped house in her mind, no pills, no lies.

 It can’t be a dream. She knows this now. Her mind couldn’t have even imagined this, much less force it onto her in her sleep.

 And then Martin is there, picking her up and swinging her around, his hand solidly placed on her back to hold her close and she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing into his skin. She makes a deep happy sigh and giggles.

 ‘I am so drunk,’ she says and she falls back, knowing with an unfailing certainty that her family will be there to catch her before she hits the water.

[littlemessyjessi]

“Mother Nature”: Baron Helmut Zemo Imagine: Plus Size

A Helmut Zemo Imagine Commissioned by: She chose to remain anon so I won't tag her but thank you love for your commission! Much love! Notes from cx:  "Can you use your oc Jessi for this please? Can we have cottagecore vibes? Can we have an animal mama? Can we have a cool power and some backstory?" Note from myself: Yes, bebe, of course you can have anything you want! -----------  

The tension in the jet could be cut with a knife as the three males resided there.

Sam was caught between irritation at Bucky... in general and due to the fact that he would do nothing but glower at Zemo.

And also by the subject of his glowering himself.

He didn't like the situation in any way, shape or form.

But after coming to the resolution that he was more help to them out of prison that he was in... the both of them had agreed to 'let' him stay.

Even when all of them knew that if and when Zemo was ready to flee... he'd just do it.

"So this woman?" Zemo spoke up.  "Why is it that we must collect her?"

"Collect her?" Sam laughed. "What the fuck, man? She's a woman.  Not a pokemon card."

"We need her." Bucky said shortly.  

"Yeah, we need her." Sam laughed. "What I'm not looking forward to is the ass whoopin that she's undoubtedly gonna dish out when she sees us.  What was it she told you the last time she saw us?"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Oh, yeah.  Something about, 'If I ever see your wish brand Terminator looking ass -"

"Shut. up. Sam."  Bucky snapped.

"Then I'll rip that Transformer's reject arm off and shove it up your ass."  Sam continued through his laughter.

"I think I may like this woman." Zemo said sipping his champagne with a smirk.

Bucky just glowered out the window and Sam looked thoroughly pleased with himself with the torment he'd managed to provide Bucky in only a few short sentences.

"If I may.." Zemo started only to recieve a menacing glare from Bucky.  "If she dislikes you so much what makes you think she'll be willing to help us?"

"Because Jess is easy to bribe." Sam said. "And you're going front the bill for it."

Zemo lifted his eyebrows, "Ah, I thought it would be more interesting.   What's her price?"

"Probably some exotic plant that no one has ever fucking heard of and is impossible to get." Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face.  "She'll let you know."

"If she doesn't shoot us before we get off the jet." Sam pointed out.

Sam wasn't scared of a lot but Jess McCarty was definitely on that list.

Even if he did find her highly entertaining.

"Oh and she hates Sharon." Bucky said staring our the window again. "So don't bring her up."

"I'm not ignorant enough to bring up another woman." Zemo said. "I was married, you know."

He had been teasing but none of them said anything else.

They weren't exactly on the best terms but even still they wouldn't bring up conversation relating to his late family.

Eventually, they landed in large field with a beautiful mountain landscape decorating the distance.

Helmut could distinctly see a large white truck in the distance.

"So much for easing into the situation." Sam said.  "I see she still has Leroy."

"Leroy?" Zemo asked.

"Her truck." Bucky clarified. "Don't ask and don't bring up the bullet holes."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, I think she still owes you a few shots over that."

"Fuck off."

Zemo rolled his eyes at the two of them.

Even after all this time and how much he had become accustomed to their bickering ... it still both amused and annoyed him.

As the three of them descended the stairs of the jet, the slam of a door was heard in the distance.

A woman stepped out and leaned against the grill of the truck, blankly staring them all down.

She was tall, that much Zemo could tell even from a distance, with neck length dark hair that sprung from her head in a wild dark halo.

They'd managed to get about half way to her when she whistled and several dogs bounded from the bed of her truck.

"Fuck." Bucky whispered. "She brought the fucking dogs."

"You better run,"white wolf"." Sam said with a chuckle.

Half amused and half concerned.

"We." he responded. "I'm not the only one here."

"You state your fucking business, Barnes. Before I let them tear you part."

A smirk worked it's way onto Zemo's face as her venomous southern drawl that seemed to contrast so much to her appearance.

She was the picture of lovely.

She looked more like a fairy belonging to a magical woodland than someone associated with the Avengers.

Like a tall, curvaceous Elven queen.

"We need your help and we brought an ATM who has connections." Sam said trying to ease the tension.

She didn't seem impressed.

"I'm not asking again, Barnes.  You got three seconds before I sick the hounds on you.  And they're hungry. We've been into town passed the diner where they're having a fish fry.  My babies are just dying for a snack.  And if you even think about laying one hand on them, I'm turning that fucking arm of yours into a coat rack." she spat.

"God dammit, Jess.  I told you we need your help.  It's a mission and you're the only one who can-" Bucky started before she snapped her fingers and the dogs charged at him. "Shit!"

Realistically, Bucky could've ended those dogs in seconds but if he did, A.) she'd never help them, and B.)  she'd make him suffer for it.

Buck let out some kind of strangled cry as he took off away from the dogs chasing after him.

Zemo, no stranger to the military and the dogs associated with it, noted that none of them actually looked as if they were going to harm him but rather just enjoying the chase.

Bucky didn't need to know that though.

"How long are you gonna let them chase him?" Sam chuckled as he and Zemo finally made their way closer to where she stood leaning against the truck.

Jess shrugged, "So what is it exactly that you need?"

"We just need your help with a mission." Sam said.  "We can talk about the details later if you decide not to kill us."

She scoffed, "I'm not going to kill you, Sam.  But I might maim Barnes a little.  Enough to make me feel better."

She finally turned her eyes on Zemo who gave her a small smile.

"So you're the ATM?" she asked with lifted brows. "Do you have a name? Bank of..."

"This is Zemo." Sam said.  "He's a Baron and he's loaded."

"Zemo." she nodded, dark brows drawing together.

"Please call me Helmut." he said producing a hand.

She took it firmly as she stared at him.

"Zemo..." she said almost tasting the word in her mouth.  "That is so familiar."

Sam sighed, "Yes, it's that Zemo, Jess.  And I know what you're thinking-"

"You have no idea what I'm thinking." she snapped, her eyes wretching themselves away from Helmut's soft dark eyes to meet Sam's endless pools.

"Jess.."

"No, you were not there and you do not know." she said as her skin and hair began to change color as her temper rose.

It was then that Helmut recognized just exactly who she was.

"You were there." he said. "In Sokovia."

Her eyes connected with his.

"Yes, I was." she said.  "I was with the Avengers when we faced Ultron."

"You're the one that stayed." he said.

"Yes." she whispered.

"You are a hero among my people." he said. "Those of us that are left."

"I am no hero." she said turning away from him and whistling for the dogs who had chased Bucky up an old flagpole and were barking at him.

"There would be many more Sokovians dead if you had not stayed. We were not a large people to begin with and there are even fewer now.  I know several who owe you their lives." Helmut said.

"They owe me nothing." she said. "And for the record, of course, I do not support the bombing but I also understand what it is like to be ridden with grief and confusion and anger when you have lost loved ones.  Especially as someone who had lost their own children."

Helmut's eyes softened as he thought of his late wife and child and it was then that he recognized the same tendrils of heartbreak in the woman's eyes.

"For what it's worth, I destroyed my fair share of places in my grief." she said. "People will remind us of our faults as long as we live but what they say can never compare to the torture we inflict on ourselves."

Helmut said nothing, only nodded in understanding.

She turned to Sam with a sigh, "I will help you.  But I am going to kick Barnes' ass for good measure."

"You sure you wanna go toe to toe with the Winter Soldier?" he teased her.

She lifted a brow, "He is just a man.  A soldier.  Like the both of you and I can assure that I am not scared of any of you."

"Well, he's not exactly..." Helmut said.

"Yes he is.  He lives, he breathes, he bleeds." she cut him off.  "And he shot my truck and kicked me off a building.  So I atleast owe him a kick in the nuts."

Sam and Helmut dissolved into a fit of laughter as she whistled again and the pack of dogs came running before bounding into the bed of that beat up white truck.

She opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Do you have a way to follow me? Other than by jet?" she asked through the open window. "Or do I need to drop the hounds off and come back?"

"It's already taken care of." Helmut said gesturing behind to the jet where Oeznik was pulling driving the car off the jet.

"Nice car." Jess said.  "I still prefer Leroy though."

"Definitely a beauty." Helmut said. "A little rough around the edges but all wild things are."

Helmut gave her a soft smile to which she returned before speeding off.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam asked.

"What was what?" Helmut asked.

"You flirtin with her?" Sam said.  "She will eat you for breakfast, man.  And then shit you out and use you to fertilize her little poison garden.  Don't go down that road."

"What road?"

Bucky had rejoined the conversation.

"Man, you run like a bitch." Sam laughed.

Bucky just stared at Sam in irritation.  

"You couldn't even fight off a pack of dogs?" Sam teased. "One of them was a Yorkie, Buck."

"First of all, I told you that you can't call me that." Bucky said.  "Second of all, if I so much as look at one of those dogs the wrong way you know she'll launch a missile at us."

Sam just snickered.

"Apparently, you have a 'kick to the nuts' coming your way." Helmut said and Bucky groaned.

"She is never going to forgive me." he said.  

"Why exactly did you shoot her property and kick her off a building?" Helmut asked as they piled into the car.

There was a brief argument about the seat being moved up before Bucky answered.

"Look, the truck was an accident." he said.  "It was just caught in the crossfire.   And I only kicked her off the building because she was nearly insane."

"Weak logic, man." Sam laughed.

"You were there, asshole!"

"You could've tackled her to the ground."

"While she was trying to choke me to death with vines?"

Sam just laughed at Bucky's predicament while Helmut continued to ponder this woman.

He remembered what little footage there was of her.

After the battle with Ultron, Sokovia had been decemated and the Avengers had left them in the rubble.

In reality, they had tried to evacuate as many as possible.

With the help of Sokovia's own, The Maximoff Twins.

But when it was all said and done, Sokovia was left in the rubble and Earth's defenders just deserted them.

All but the one.

He'd seen the footage.

Shaky cellphone videos of the woman who transformed into animals to move the debris crushing people to death.

Or of how she was in the tents with the small group of survivors using her powers with plants to heal as many as she could.

She'd even tried to plant things and bring the country back to life before the government had basically laid waste to her work.

She'd been most popularly dubbed as Mother Nature by people across the globe but she never spoke in public or confirmed her name.

Helmut got the feeling that she didn't exactly like being apart of the Avengers and certainly did not enjoy the attention that went along with it.

He knew then that it had to have been her that cleared the bodies of his father, wife and son for when he found them among the dead that had been intricately encased in vines with flowers decorating them in the most beautiful way.

When he'd asked about it, he only been told that Mother Nature had stayed to help them.

He hadn't understood that at the time.

After the loss, all he could think of was revenged as grief consumed him.

By that time, she had long since left the Avengers and wasn't on his radar.

He'd never put two and two together.

Helmut drove for the longest time, the lamborghini speeding along the road as they followed the beat up white truck.

The pack of dogs all happily placed in the back, tongues flopping in the wind and tails wagging.

The further they trekked the wilder the country became and soon the hot rays of sunshine only beamed through the thick cover of vegetation above them.

The light through the leaves creating a green glow.

"I feel like Welcome to the Jungle should be playing right about now." Sam commented.

The finally broke through the tunnel of vegetation into a large property of rolling green field smattered with wildflowers and towering trees.

Garden beds and greenhouses were in the distances and horses could be seen grazing freely as chickens clucked around them.

Helmut noted that there were no fences, no pins, no coops for the chickens but instead all he wild life seemed to roam freely.

"Just forewarning you, there's probably a bear or moose around here somewhere." Bucky said. "But don't shoot it or we're dead."

"A bear?" Helmut asked. "She keeps bears as pets?"

"Don't call the animals her pets." Sam said with a smirk, "It pisses her off and as much as I would just love to see you get shot, it's not very practical at the moment."

Eventually they came to a stop behind the truck.

The pack of dogs all bounded out and took off in the direction of several little goats who seemed more than happy to play with them.

Helmut took in the home in front of him.

It was a beautiful home.

Simple in design but stunning in the sense that it seemed to be built around a tree.

"Come inside and have some tea." Jess said. "I'm going to need some if I'm going to listen to whatever utter bullshit you've gotten yourself into this time."

"Uh uh." Sam said with a shake of his head. "That is a lion. I am not going up there."

Jess narrowed her eyes at Sam as Helmut and Bucky looked around for what he was talking about.

Sure enough on the level there was a small balcony where the railing was absolutely littered with cats and a rather large mountain lion was sitting there watching them all with it's great luminous eyes.

"She's pregnant.  Relax." Jess said ascending the steps, gently smiling at Helmut when he followed her without reservation.

"Like that's supposed to instill confidence." Sam said. "You ever been around a pregnant female? Hell no."

"I have been a pregnant female, Wilson.  And I also very clearly remember the labor pain of having twins.  So watch your mouth and come on. If she wanted to eat you she would've already done it. Though if you're so scared, just feed her Barnes.  That should tide her over for a while." she said disappearing into the house with a chuckling Helmut behind her.

"This is your fault." Sam said shoving Bucky who only shoved him back.

"Shut up, Sam." he said before they continued up the stairs with Sam moving a little quicker as the cluster of felines watched him.  

"I hate cats, man." he sad.  "Fucking creepy."

Bucky snorted.

"What?"

"Nothin."

"What?"

"Just fitting that the bird is scared of a little kitty." Bucky teased.

Sam lifted his brows, "First of all, that was not a kitten.  That was full on Lion King back there.  And second of all, have you never seen Looney Toons.  I'm not trying to be Tweety bird."

"Stop being a pussy and come on." Jess' voice rang out. "And shut the damn door. You're letting all the cool air out."

Sam and Bucky grumbled at each other before making their way into the kitchen to see Helmut sitting at the table already happily sipping a cup of tea.

"This is exquisite." Helmut complimented her. "What is it?"

"It's peach and apricot." she said pouring both Sam and Bucky a cup and leveling them both with a look that told them if they didn't drink it she'd strangle them.

"It's wonderful. Thank you." Helmut said.

"It was my daughters' favorites.   Flora loved peaches and Fauna loved apricots. So to please them both my husband used to blend them together for their little tea parties. Along with little pieces of toast and jam."

She smiled into her own cup of tea but there was a sadness there that he recognized.

He chose not to remark on it and instead studied her features as Sam relayed the information as to why they were actually there in the first place.

"I've seen the Walker guy." she said. "It's unsettling to say the least.  But you know I do the limelight, boys.  I walked away from all of that when it became obvious that-"

"Jess." Bucky said. "Please. You don't have to talk to anyone. You don't have to-"

"People died.  And not just in Sokovia.  Yes, that was the final straw for me but it was happening long before that. I understand that 'earth's greatest heroes' or whatever are there to defend everyone.  But no one ever stays around to see the carnage.   No one talks about everyone who dies in the crossfire.  I joined the avengers out of revenge.  I was fueled by my anger and pain and I went on missions.   How many have I ended up inadvertantly killing under this ruse of 'for the greater good'.  I loved Steve to death but he took that shit to his heart and forgot to use his eyes." she said. "While everyone else is busy looking at the 'bigger picture' all of these other people who perhaps you don't know the names of are dying horrible deaths, boys.   I pulled people from wreckage who had moment to live.  People who's organs were crushed into nothing and they were rushing to give me messages to pass along to their families.  Those people are the heroes and no one ever knows it."

The subject of Steve was a sensitive one for everyone but she had a point and they knew it.

She sighed as she looked down into her teacup again, "I will help you regarding John Walker.  But I'm not blindly following orders anymore.   I make my own decisions and when I'm done, I'm done and I don't want to hear anything about it when I go."

The three of them nodded even though she wasn't asking for permission.

"You want some more tea, love?" she asked Helmut who's heart fluttered a bit at the soft term of endearment.

"Please." he said watching as she methodically poured him another cup.

"I can not leave immediately." she said. "I have to take care of a few things first. But you are welcome to stay here if you wish."

"And if you're not afraid of the cat." she said, aiming it at Sam. "Tweety bird."

"I hate you." he said flatly and she only laughed.

"Her name is Cleopatra by the way. Or Cleo for short. And if you give her a can of tuna from that cabinet there then she'll be putty in your hands.  If you rub her belly then she'll love you forever." she said.  "She also seems to enjoy listening to Elvis Presley and laying in the sunlight.  If that should interest any of you."

"Thanks, Jess." Bucky said sincerely.

"You're welcome." she said. "But I still owe you a beating."

He sighed, "Fair enough."

She left the table and meandered out onto the lower porch to stay at the horizon.

Sam and Bucky said nothing as Helmut followed her out there.

"Thank you." he said as he stared off in the distance as well.

"For what?" she asked. "The tea? You're welcome, dear.  It was nothing."

"No." he said turning to look at her. "For what you did for the bodies.  My father, wife and son were among the ones you uncovered.   They told me it was Mother Nature.  I never put it together but now I see."

She said nothing.

"I did it because it was what I would've liked for my own family." she said.  "I'm just sorry I couldn't do it for everyone.  I tried but there were so many that needed healing.  I didn't have ti-"

"The people of Sokovia know that." he cut her off.  "But as a son, a husband and a father, I'm thanking you for myself and also for everyone else."

She said nothing as they stared out at the trees.

"What happened to your family?" he asked her.

He knew, from first experience, how painful it was to talk about something like but he wanted to know.

"There was a bombing." she said. "My husband and I had taken my daughters to the museum to see the dinosaur exhibit.   It was so wrapped up that day that it was nearly impossible to get food there.  So we called in some food a couple of miles away at one of the girls' favorite resteraunts.  He'd told me to go and get it and that they'd meet me by the water fountains and we'd have lunch.   I was stuck in traffic for a good hour coming back  when it hit.  They'd called in an air strike because it was confirmed that an extremely dangerous  terrorist was there.  He'd been on the run for nearly a year from a foreign government and when it was confirmed what he had on him, I guess they decided it would be better to blow everyone there off the place of the planet that risk him setting it off and possibly destroying the world.  I saw it hit, saw everything go up in flames before it the whole of everything just crashed into the ground.  Like the whole word swallowed it whole." she said, voice shaking.

Helmut watched with rapt attention as she struggled to continue.

"I just jumped out of the car immediately and took off.  Police were swarming and I got thrown this way and that but I got loose.  My family was in there.  My husband.  My children.  I dove head first into the crater not even thinking about self preservation or logic at all.  There were no survivors of course but I didn't care.   A mother can't just walk away like that.  Or atleast I couldn't.  I should've died on impact based on the fall but I didn't.  About half way down gas released and I can just remember the burning.  My skin felt like it was melting off.  I was still falling through the air and my skin was searing hot, burning every nerve ending I had.  And then I hit.   When I woke up, I wasn't there anymore but I panicked because I was covered in vines.  Wrapped up like a mummy in vegetation." she said, a dark chuckle coloring her tone.

Helmut shivered as a chill ran down his spine.

"The local authorities pulled me out when everything had been cleared and they began to sort through the wreckage.  I'd been turned over to American government when they discovered my ID in my back pocket.  They told me that it took forever for the police to get in because vines kept growing from everything I touched.  Several of them were strangled to death as I lay down there unconscious.  I was deemed dangerous and therefore put it a high security area.   I was told a version of what happened that day and propositioned to join the Avengers.  I was angry and grieving and I wanted to find out who murdered my children, my husband... so I accepted without hesistation. So when I tell you that I understand how you got to the point that you did... trust me.  I get it."

Helmut said nothing as he reached out to take her hand.

"Perhaps, you and I are not so different." he said.

"Probably a lot more similiar than you think." she chuckled.

"Though I am not a goddess." he said with a small smirk.

"I'm no goddess." she said.

"Ah no?" he asked. "Not Mother Nature then?"

"Sure you can call me mother nature...of the current year where I've been poisoned by the human race and am genuinely fed up with life in general.  Maybe Mother Nature's trailer trash cousin, Global Warming." she said and Helmut laughed at her in disbelief. "I can say trailer trash cause I am trailer trash."

Helmut shook his head in amusement.

He wasn't sure of anything in that moment but he was thankful for it and he hoped that perhaps his family was somewhere looking down on him.

He silently thanked them for allowing him to meet the one person who had stayed.

Mother Nature always found a way.

----- Hello my loves! I hope you enjoy this! This piece was commissioned by a lovely lady who chose to remain anon!  If you have a commission that you'd like done just reach out and I'll answer any questions you have!  Thank you so much for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts!

All my love, Kenny -----

————————-

@thickemadame​

@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen   @becrazy–beyou

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666@thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

@angelus320

@alanlizzingtonshore@buriednurbckyrd@disneymarina@tubbypeachwriting

@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

@mischiefnevermanaged94 @inumorph

@congurl

@centerhabit

@bubblymusiclover13

@qtmeryr

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@tnupsweetpie

@alisoncdariel

@hannahloveslife

@wormyboi

@blackirisposts

@maggyme13

@amethyst09

@ibenkastberg

@fanfics1717 @mrscasnovak

@thickemadame @babygirl-barnes

@theladyofmasks @aengsty

@kalliravenne

@witchygagirl

@gruffle1

@writtenbywolfie

@kribbydahhufflepuff

@leah-halliwell92

@thelastwildangel

@silent-browser

@simplymagical@simplymagicalwritings

@lilacflicker

@malulucifer

@minxyvixen

@moncheriemoony

@queenlexusloverofbts

@criminalyetminimal

@plus-size-reader

@owenniasstars  

@adventuresofnight

@tuutifruuti

@ tb-ctn

@halobaby

@tacobacoyeet

@thickemadame

@glassesandthunderthighs

@accioxtina

@sunnyoongles

@valiantobservationkitty

@poopypantsmc

@memissbee

@teenagesublimefan

@lyn-g

@milkshakelol

@rubyroscoe1

@abbyvonschweetz

@1975weasley

@lanoreeblake

@rosaline-black

@abbott27

@aldu-p

@sxturn-stars

@oliviashea05

@emilianamason

@reallykosborne​

@dracosbabymama​

@ main-feetoffthetable

floatyflowers

bumpinbillowinboobies

kyralupin

floatyflowers

selfhatedmika

@thickemadame​

​  hermione-grangers-wife

zievyimas

@gigit712​

101killer

okaylovir

butterfly-o-lies

clementines-x

@streets-in-paradise​

stitchattacks

ofmiceandnita03

——-

Also, just a reminder that I am open for commissions!

Additionally, the only tag list I have is my permanent tag list but if you ever want to be added all you have to do is just go to the ask box and request to be added! It’s that simple and you’re in!

I love you all!

[hockeyblogg]

you’re all I want - f.andersen

a/n: bringing this back, one of my first Freddie writings that was totally inspired by this picture and the all stars in general. sorry that I haven’t written anything in a long while, I always get super busy for some reason, but hope you enjoy this one !!

warnings: insecure freddie.

You sat on the bench, looking up and watching as Freddie taped his stick.

He had asked if you wanted to attend the NHL All Star weekend and of course you weren’t going to turn him down, but what you hadn’t expected was for him to keep you at his side the entire time. When he was doing media; he had asked if you could stay behind the scenes, when he was meeting with all the other players; he was introducing you to them as well, and now when he finally got to the locker room where everyone was preparing for the skills competition; he asked if you could stay with him until it was time to get dressed. 

You didn’t want to seem like the clingy girlfriend and also be the only girlfriend in the room, so you were about to turn it down and tell Fred that you could just go find his family and sit down with them as you waited, but after seeing a couple of other wives and girls go in, you decided to stay with Freddie.

And you’re kind of glad for that decision.

You watched as he bit his lip in concentration, his eyes focused solely on his stick. You took this time to take him all in; the way the hair on his face was slightly scruffy, his moustache shorter than his beard. You looked at his eyebrows and how they were scrunched together, causing the wrinkle in his forehead to cease more.

You watched his hands and how they worked, how much more bigger they were compared to yours but let’s be honest; everything about this man was much more bigger than you, and you smile at the fact that he’s yours.

Those thoughts don’t last long though, you’re knocked out of them by the calling of your name, and considering you only know two other people in this locker room, you know it’s either Mitch or Auston.

You turn your head and when you catch Mitch’s stare, he’s smiling and waving you over, “C’mere a sec!” You look back at Freddie and he softly smiles, gesturing to his teammate, “Go on then elskede.” Standing up, you walk up to the two boys, “What’s up?”

“Figured you were a little bored, you wanna help me tape my stick?” You merely nod and he hands you the piece of wood, “Just hold it there while I do the top...”

You watched carefully as he taped the top of his stick and you noticed that it was different from the way Fred does his, “Are all sticks different?” you find yourself asking, and Mitch raises his brow, “like taping?” he nods and bites off the end, smoothing it down with his thumb.

“I mean, some are the same way, like the top part, but most of the bottoms are different, especially with goalies, since their sticks are bigger and thicker.” You nod along at his words, “are players picky about their sticks, or is it any way every game?” he flips his stick and leans on it, “well, some players are really suspicious and try to get it right every time, but others; like myself, it doesn’t really matter.”

“here, you try.” he hands you the tape this time, and you shake your head, “No no, I don’t want to mess your stick up.” Mitch simply laughs, “Like I said Y/N, I'm not too picky, go ahead.” You hesitantly took the tape from his hands and he slowly shows you how to do it.

You’re on your last wrap around and Mitch gently smoothes it down, taking his stick back and inspecting it, “This is a great job Y/N.” You make a face, “You don't have to lie.” He laughs, “No really, this is great...” he turns around and taps Auston on the shoulder, “Hey Aus, look at Y/N’s tape job, it’s her first one.” Auston comes around and nods his head, “Hey look at that, that’s amazing.” 

“Really?” You ask suspiciously and they nod their heads, “Yeah, here look, just ask the guys.” Auston tells you and brings a few of the other players over to take a look at it. Pretty soon, Jack Eichel, Travis Konecny, Mat Barzal, and Connor McDavid himself are all praising your work. 

“That’s really great for a first time, might be better than all of ours.”

“Are you sure you did that and not Mitch?”

“Who knows, maybe she’s the one doing all of Mitch’s tape.”

“I’m not even that good.”

Mitch was happy his friends were playing along, if he was being honest, there were some lumps here and there and he knew that he would actually have to redo it, but he didn't want you to feel bad, especially after he told you it was fine no matter how you did it. He especially didn't want Fred to come after him for making you upset. 

So, he watched as you smiled brightly at the praise, and eventually the conversation turned to the competition, you asking each of the guys which skill they were in and them asking more about you, telling you; any friend of Mitch is a friend of ours.

However, as you were talking with the younger guys, your boyfriend was on the other side of the room with a frown set on his face.

Freddie hated when he got this way, when he felt so, old.

He didn’t mind it at all when he saw you with guys you’re age, he’s not a controlling person, but there’s just something inside that makes him feel guilty, as if he's keeping you from living your life the way he thinks you should be.

Watching them all make you laugh, seeing how well you vibe with them and relate to them, the way he feels he can’t, makes him feel, dare he say it, insecure about his place in your life. You need someone who can converse with you like that, someone who's young, fun, and carefree. Fred’s too old to do the fortnite dances, too old to be speaking in ‘vine talk.’

I mean, he couldn’t even offer you to tape his stick, which would’ve been a young, fun thing to do. Instead, he did it himself because he was too superstitious that he wouldn’t play properly if anyone but him got his equipment ready. Something only the old guys do.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice you're staring and when he hears your footsteps coming toward him, he averts his eyes from the floor to his pads, trying to make it look like he wasn’t just doubting himself.

As soon as you saw his frown and the crease on his forehead, you knew something was bothering him and so you wished all the boys good luck and walked over, sitting beside him and grabbing hand, “You alright bub?” He nods and sits down, undoing all the straps and you place your hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at yours, “Bub, talk to me.” He stares at you for a second and sighs.

“I just, I'm sorry that I didn't ask if you wanted to tape my stick, I'm sorry if I didn’t notice that you were bored just sitting on the bench-” His words confuse you and you shake your head, causing him to stop, “Fred, I wasn’t bored, and I hadn’t meant to tape Mitch’s stick, he just offered. I’m fine with just watching you get your equipment ready, it’s yours anyway.” He’s still not buying it and you sigh, putting your hand on his knee, “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs, “Every time I see you around people your age, guys your age, I can't help but feel out of place, and it’s not that you can’t hang out with them but I always get this feeling of...” he trails off and you finish for him, “Guilt?” he nods but his eyebrows are furrowed and you huff a laugh, “I feel the same way too Freddie, whenever I see you with people your age, I always feel like I'm a little kid you have to watch over. But, at the end of the day, we have each other to remind ourselves of how much we love each other. I love you so much Fred, I could care less of how old you are. I could care less if you have a ten ‘o’ clock bedtime, if you only watch golf all day, and if you don’t find some memes funny. You’re amazing just the way you are, you’re all I want Freddie.” 

He nods and leans in to place a kiss to your temple, “Thank you elskede, I love you too.” You smile and run your fingers through his hair, “I’m very lucky to have you.” He shakes his head and chuckles, “Darling I think I'm the lucky one.” 

You both sit there as he finishes up with his equipment, glancing at each other and giggling when you catch the other’s eye. Soon after, it’s time for you to leave the room so you wish him luck, and whisper that you love him while connecting your lips. 

Fred watches as you retreat down the hallway and Mitch comes up behind him, “You little sap.” 

[osakaso5]

IDOLiSH7 5th Anniversary Special Story: Opening Doors...

Chapter 4: A Discussion With No End

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 

Toma Inumaru: First off, what comes to mind when you think of idols?

Mitsuki Izumi: Fun!

Riku Nanase: Popular?

Tamaki Yotsuba: They get to go on TV! They're celebrities!

Momo: They're bustling and happy, I guess?

Gaku Yaotome: Spotlights.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: And dancing.

Tenn Kujo: Singing. Though I'm not sure how you can express singing through food...

Torao Mido: Also... Oh, I know. They do more stuff than you'd expect.

Yamato Nikaido: Right. They can be or do just about anything.

Nagi Rokuya: Emotional. Moving.   They want to make your heart quiver, and they succeed in doing so.

Sogo Osaka: Popular celebrities who can change into just about anything, who sing and dance...

Minami Natsume: I wonder what sort of food would be like that...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Hmm... Wheat flour?

Iori Izumi: Wheat flour’s definitely versatile.

Riku Nanase: But I don't think it's got idol vibes. It's only really popular as a base for other foods.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ah, okay.

Haruka Isumi: What about eggs?

Gaku Yaotome: Eggs?

Haruka Isumi: Ah, yes. Uh... Well, there's a lot of people who like eggs, and they can become just about anything, so...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Pudding's made of eggs, too! Isumin, you're a genius!

Haruka Isumi: O-oh yeah? Well, it's not like I care if you compliment me or not!

Torao Mido: He's the brother of your girlfriend, so you should be polite  to him.

Tamaki Yotsuba: She's not his girlfriend!

Haruka Isumi: She's not my girlfriend!

Tenn Kujo: The brother of your girlfriend? What's this about?

Mitsuki Izumi: Oh, you don't know, Kujo?

Tenn Kujo: Are you talking about my sister?

Tamaki Yotsuba: She's MY sister!

Yuki: Not to interrupt your conversation or anything, but are you sure you want to do this while the cameras are rolling?

Yamato Nikaido: Calm down, Tama.   We can talk this over later.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...Fine. Later.

Tenn Kujo: .........

Riku Nanase: Ku... Kujo-san, you still have me!

Tenn Kujo: Ah... Thank you.

Riku Nanase: Ehehe.

Momo: ...How weird does this conversation have to be to anyone who doesn't know these kids' true relationship?

Mitsuki Izumi: It'll be fine! Isn't Re:vale always like this, too?

Momo: I guess so~! Yuki's always got me by his side!

Yuki: I know, Momo.

Gaku Yaotome: You've got me, too.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Exactly. And me!

Yuki: Thank you.

Tenn Kujo: They were clearly talking to me.

Sogo Osaka: Well then, our idol-themed dish will be something with eggs.

Iori Izumi: Osaka-san!? Did you just hit the brakes on our current conversation!?

Sogo Osaka: Ah, sorry. I thought we'd settled on it...

Toma Inumaru: Sogo... You're steamrolling this conversation harder than I expected...

Mitsuki Izumi: You've got it all wrong. He's only trying to force the conversation along because he doesn't know what else to do.

Nagi Rokuya: OH... I too have experienced this.

Nagi Rokuya: When my family is having a hard time planning for a party...

Nagi Rokuya: They begin bulldozing   others.

Minami Natsume: I'm well aware. Though it is interesting to hear about how the ruling classes deal with these sorts of problems.

Momo: It's not like he could do this normally, though. You gotta be a little overbearing when you're dealing with 16 people!

Momo: Thanks, Sogo! I agree that we should make something with eggs!

Sogo Osaka: Thank you. And thank you for the suggestion, Isumi-san.

Haruka Isumi: Ehehe... You're welcome!

Toma Inumaru: Oh, by the way... Should we make a Western or Japanese style dish?

Gaku Yaotome: So basically, idol bowl or idol plate?

Minami Natsume: The plate sounds stylish. It might turn out like a children's lunch special.

Torao Mido: But didn't you make a Good Luck Snake Skin bowl last time?

Minami Natsume: Yes.

Torao Mido: Why didn't you make a plate back then?

Minami Natsume: Who knows. Perhaps I had no interest in appearing stylish or childlike at the time?

Gaku Yaotome: I'd prefer a bowl. It's got more of a kindred spirit to it.

Minami & Torao: Kindred spirit...

Gaku Yaotome: On a plate, all the stuff is cleanly separated, and there's barely any unity there, right?

Tenn Kujo: Can you stop assigning personalitites to food?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I kinda get where he's coming from, though. Stuff like oyakodon and katsudon do have a kind of unity already.

Gaku Yaotome: Right!?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: A ŹOOĻ bowl would make your group stick together until you're in your 60's!

Toma Inumaru: Yeah, maybe.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: But a ŹOOĻ plate would probably end up driving you all into going solo.

Haruka Isumi: Uh... I guess we should go with a bowl, in that case..?

Gaku Yaotome: Right? Unity is crucial to a group. We're making our menu in the bowl form, with eggs.

Yamato Nikaido: With all these hot bowl takes being thrown around, we've got basically no choice but to go with a Japanese dish...

Mitsuki Izumi: Good thing you're already a big fan of Japanese cuisine to begin with, you geezer.

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah.

Mitsuki Izumi: I can't say I have any complaints about it, either! Raise your hand if you wanna make something Japanese, guys.

Tamaki, Nagi, & Riku: We do!

Minami Natsume: Very well. Let's unite our friends, and devour them.

Torao Mido: Stop talking like a movie villain... I don't mind Japanese food, either.

Toma Inumaru: "Idol bowl" sounds nice and simple!

Haruka Isumi: I'm cool with Japanese, too.  

Mitsuki Izumi: That settles it!

Riku Nanase: Yep!

Tamaki Yotsuba: We're having Japanese and eggs!

Mitsuki Izumi: Great job, picking out a second direction to take our flavor! We've gotta be geniuses!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Well done, everyone! Let's give ourselves a round of applause! 

Clap clap clap

Haruka Isumi: ...Are you guys always like this?

Iori Izumi: Yes, we are.

Minami Natsume: Hee hee. I like it. You're very self-encouraging.

Momo: Okay! Let's keep the genius ideas coming!

Mitsuki Izumi: What other ingredients do we choose? If all we've got is eggs, we won't even beat some egg on rice.

Gaku Yaotome: It's got great potential.

Riku Nanase: We chose eggs because they're popular and can do anything, right? What else are we working with?

Nagi Rokuya: Let me think... A sunny side up egg and rice bowl.

Nagi Rokuya: While it is a friendly dish, it does not evoke the idea of idols, or anything special.

Yamato Nikaido: I think sunny side up eggs suit idols pretty well. Wouldn't some wieners made for a nice duo with that?

Momo: Like me and Yuki? By the way, do you think I'm the egg or the wieners?

Yamato Nikaido: Uh, I don't really care...

Yuki: Wouldn't you be the sunny side up egg, since you have such a sunny personality?

Momo: I'm so happy you'd say that~!

Mitsuki Izumi: Momo-san, didn't you use to be Yuki-san's fan?

Mitsuki Izumi: Did he ever remind you of an egg and some wieners back then?

Momo: Ah... Nope, not at all. He was like, more special... Like something you can't just get at a supermarket...

Yuki: I guess that means I've been downgraded to common produce over the years.

Mitsuki Izumi: That's exactly my point. I like eggs fine, but to me, someone like Zero is...

Momo: A rare encounter!

Mitsuki Izumi: Right! Someone I don't just get to see whenever!

Tenn Kujo: I get it now.

Tenn Kujo: Idols and fans can't meet whenever they want. Only a few times a year, during lives.

Nagi Rokuya: Yes! They are not something you can see in your refrigerator every day, but special, like a cake.

Momo: Oh, I know! Why don't we make something seasonal!?

Momo: Something you can't eat the whole year round, that you need to really wait for!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Like watermelon!

Haruka Isumi: Or kashiwa mochi?

Torao Mido: Don't you mean seafood? Depending on the season and where you live, it can even be considered a luxury.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Some kind of seasonal seafood dish. Sounds good!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: High grade meat can feel special too, but seafood and fruit are harder to come by depending on the time of year.

Gaku Yaotome: Right. And fruit probably won't fit into our bowl, so  we can narrow it down to seafood that goes with eggs...

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Like lobster?

Minami Natsume: Lobster and eggs sounds good. I like both.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: They're really good!

Iori Izumi: Not to mention red and yellow are bright colors that go well with our idol theme.

Torao Mido: Then again... You can just go buy lobster at a supermarket these days.

Toma Inumaru: What if we use some super rare kind of lobster? We could probably find something like that online.

Yamato Nikaido: Right. We're gonna be traveling for our ingredients, anyway. Let's look it up.

Haruka Isumi: Super rare lobster...

Iori Izumi: ...What is with your phone case..?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Isumin, you got a new case. It's like, scary but cute.

Haruka Isumi: I got it from a fan. Apparently it's the gothic lolita version of some popular rabbit mascot.

Momo: Now that we've all got our phones out, they really show off our personalities!

Yuki: And don't those of us who are the same age have similar phones? Like Mitsuki-kun and Torao-kun.

Torao Mido: Oh, you're right.

Mitsuki Izumi: Nope, our cases are made from totally different materials.

Torao Mido: Where?

Mitsuki Izumi: See? 

Torao Mido: Ahaha! Nevermind that, your screen's cracked to hell.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha! I drop it a lot!

Momo: I wonder if all the age twins here have similar phones. What about you, Nagi and Minami?

Minami Natsume: Would you like a look? Here you go.

Nagi Rokuya: Have mine, as well! It is Cocona-themed, of course!

Yuki: These two are so different you might as well be a full generation apart.

Momo: I guess not everyone of the same age is similar.

Sogo Osaka: Ah... I found some kind of lobster that's both seasonal and very rare.

Yamato Nikaido: Oh, which one?

Sogo Osaka: This.

Yamato Nikaido: Manami Bay's local specialty, the "Dancing Lobster".

Yamato Nikaido: It can only be caught for a limited time, and its body has been tempered with flavor by the tides. Its name comes from how lively its movements are.

Gaku Yaotome: Sounds like a treat...

Toma Inumaru: Sounds super tasty...

Nagi Rokuya: OH! A dancing lobster! A lobster that dances like an idol! I shall become a lobster and dance, as well!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ahaha! What's up with your movements!? You pretending to be a lobster?

Nagi Rokuya: Yes! Join me, Tamaki!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Lobsters, lobsters~! Dancing lobsters~!

Yamato Nikaido: Ahaha! What are you guys even doing?

Sogo Osaka: Ah, Yamato-san. May I have my phone back?

Yamato Nikaido: Oh, my bad. Did you need to check something?

Sogo Osaka: No. I just wanted to film their dancing.

Yamato Nikaido: What are you, their dad?

Torao Mido: It's gotta be for surveillance...

Sogo Osaka: N-no, it's not. We can use the video for the show.

Iori Izumi: I found a good spot to get our eggs, as well. There's a place called Dearest Eggs, which raises their chickens in a stress-free environment.

Haruka Isumi: Huh? Lemme see.

Iori Izumi: Look, right over here.

Haruka Isumi: Oh, wow. The chickens are organically fed and get to listen to music...

Iori Izumi: It seems like a nice place, doesn't it?

Haruka Isumi: Yeah. Mom chickens who grew up listening to music. They're like idols too!

Iori Izumi: Haha. ...What is it, Nanase-san? You're pointing your phone at us.

Riku Nanase: I thought you guys might start dancing, like Tamaki and Nagi!

Iori Izumi: We will not!

Haruka Isumi: But since I'm our team's variety expert, maybe I should..?

Iori Izumi: Get a hold of yourself, Isumi-san. Isn't ŹOOĻ supposed to be the anti-society idol group?

Haruka Isumi: What kinda scary title is that..?

Tenn Kujo: As our team's representative, Yamato Nikaido has agreed to dance for us.

Yamato Nikaido: As if. There's no way I'll...

Riku Nanase: Yamato-san! Turn towards my camera!

Yamato Nikaido: R-Riku...

Mitsuki Izumi: Riku's our leader's weak point...

Riku Nanase: Since their name is Dearest Eggs, your dance has to have that kind of vibe, too!

Yamato Nikaido: .........

Yamato Nikaido: D... Dearest~. You're the dearest eggs~.

Riku Nanase: Ahaha! That's so cute!

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha! He really is dancing!

Nagi Rokuya: OH! So cute!

Tenn Kujo: Let's give him a round of applause! 

Clap clap clap

Yamato Nikaido: That's enough, already! ...Hm?

Minami Natsume: Hee hee...

Yamato Nikaido: What, Natsume-chan? Were you filming me, too?

Minami Natsume: Yes. I thought I'd send this to a certain senior actor from my former agency.

Yamato Nikaido: Wait... The hell you will!

Yuki: I'll send him a video, too. Do the dance one more time.

Yamato Nikaido: I said no!

Toma Inumaru: The Dancing Lobster, Dearest Eggs... We found pretty good ingredients.

Sogo Osaka: Right. All we need now is something with more neutral colors, to balance their brightness...

Toma Inumaru: Balance, huh. Idols aren't all about flashy centers, after all.

Toma Inumaru: Drawing attention to the centers by dancing behind them is an important job, too.

Toma Inumaru: Could we use some kinda greens to bring out the lobster and the egg?

Yamato Nikaido: Like me?

Yuki: Like me?

Haruka Isumi: Like me?

Toma Inumaru: We're not talking about your color schemes!

Nagi Rokuya: OK! If it is green we need, then I shall nominate green beans!

Mitsuki Izumi: Beans sounds good! I bet even the kiddies will eat them just fine! Does anyone have any suggestions?

Torao Mido: ...Come to think of it, the cook at a tea house I was at served me beans.  

Torao Mido: It was some kind of dish made with high class edamame...

Mitsuki Izumi: Whoa, that sounds delicious. Was it any good?

Torao Mido: Yeah, very flavorful.

Toma Inumaru: Sounds good. Can we ask that cook about them?

Torao Mido: I don't know the number to that place. I'll ask my assistant.

Toma Inumaru: Assistant?

Mitsuki Izumi: You've got an assistant!?

Torao Mido: Technically, they're my brother's PA, who gave me a ride.   I'll message them.

Mitsuki Izumi: Oh.

Torao Mido: Haha, even I know an idol's job isn't anything special enough to warrant an assistant.

Mitsuki Izumi: .........

Torao Mido: What's with the frown? Ah, I don't mean to say that it's a menial job or anything. Especially since I'm so popular.

Torao Mido: Oh, a response. The place is called... Agh!

Torao Mido: ...Why did you slap my arm?

Mitsuki Izumi: An idol's job is special!

Torao Mido: .........

Mitsuki Izumi: It is!

Yamato Nikaido: Hey, Mitsu! Sorry, this guy can be kind of hot-headed.

Sogo Osaka: Mido-san. Mitsuki-san is right, RedFest was an important job.  

Torao Mido: Sogo...

Sogo Osaka: So important that I'd love to be the personal assistant of any artist who performed there.

Tamaki Yotsuba: You never told me you wanna be a PA.

Yuki: Same here.

Momo: You wanna be a PA too, Yuki!?

Mitsuki Izumi: Don't talk like that when you're popular and have been getting plenty of work. Think of how that makes me feel.

Torao Mido: .........

Torao Mido: General...

Mitsuki Izumi: What is it, private!? ...Wait, who are you calling "general"?

Torao Mido: No. I was talking about the beans... They're called the "General's Edamame".

Mitsuki Izumi: Oh, you got a reply already? General's Edamame, now that sounds good.

Torao Mido: Don't you think something named aftera military commander is a weird background element for our dish?

Mitsuki Izumi: Nope, if anything, that just makes it more reliable! You know what they say about actions over words. Here, Nagi. Doesn't this look good?

Nagi Rokuya: OH! Beautiful! Such big and pretty green beans!

Torao Mido: Haha... Okay, I guess that's my rec, then.

Toma Inumaru: Eggs, lobster, beans... Since we've got four teams, we might wanna come up with at least one more thing.

Iori Izumi: Haven't you all forgotten something very essential?

Toma Inumaru: Essential?

Iori Izumi: Our bowl still needs rice.

Riku Nanase: Oh yeah! Rice is really important!

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wonder what kinda rice suits idols.

Nagi Rokuya: It is not comparable to idols, but I know of a rice that is like a live venue.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Live house rice..?

Gaku Yaotome: Or live rice, for short..?

Tenn Kujo: Why did it have to be shortened..?

Nagi Rokuya: YES! The live rice is like the the light of glowsticks.

Nagi Rokuya: As for its true name... Er, Mitsuki, it is the rice you made the other day.

Nagi Rokuya: You bought it to help nourish Tamaki, because he refuses to eat vegetables... Er, mi... mi...

Riku Nanase: Miracle Rice!

Iori Izumi: Are you talking about millet rice?

Nagi Rokuya: OH! That is it! Millet rice!

Mitsuki Izumi: Millet rice is like glowsticks to you..? Ah! You mean because of all the grains that are mixed in!

Sogo Osaka: I guess it does resemble the brightly colored lights at a concert.

Haruka Isumi: When you put it like that, it's kinda cute! Sure, why not? I like millet rice too.

Riku Nanase: I like it too! What about you, Tenn-nii?

Iori Izumi: Ah, you idiot...

Tenn Kujo: .........

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah, I do.

Iori Izumi: Huh?

Tenn Kujo: Huh? Why are you the one responding...

Gaku Yaotome: Because I'm the guy with the hot tenn-per. Right, Nanase?

Riku Nanase: ........! Right!

Riku's Thoughts: Yaotome-san covered for me..!

Ryunosuke's Thoughts: Gaku! He risked himself for Tenn and Riku-kun..!

Toma's Throughts: Gaku Yaotome's such a cool dude...

Iori & Tenn's Thoughts: There's no way they're going to buy that excuse.

Sogo Osaka: In any case, our final ingredient will be millet rice.

Yamato Nikaido: Here it comes..! The steamroller!

Tenn Kujo: He bulldozed us into changing the topic...

Momo: Sogo, it doesn't hurt to raise your voice in times like this.

Sogo Osaka: I see...

Sogo Osaka: Millet rice!

Momo: Wait, that's it!?

Toma Inumaru: Ah... I guess I should yell too...

Sogo Osaka: Ah, right. On three...

Sogo & Toma: Millet rice!

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha! You guys are so cute! The most wholesome project leads ever!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Congrats!

Yamato Nikaido: I don't really get what's going on, but congrats!

Toma Inumaru: Thanks! We've finally got four ingredients!

Sogo Osaka: That's great!

Minami Natsume: As for our particular blend of millet rice, this brand seems good. The "Radiant 16-Grain", which is popular with women.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! Radiant! It really is like glowsticks!

Yamato Nikaido: And it's got as many grains as there are of us, making it perfect for our idol bowl!

Riku Nanase: Does this mean the idol bowl is complete!?

Iori Izumi: Not yet, but we've got all the ingredients.

Mitsuki Izumi: So, which team gets which ingredient?

Yuki: Let's make the youngest member of each group play rock- paper-scissors.

Yuki: Who's the youngest member of Team Peace?

Riku Nanase: It's me!

Tenn Kujo: What about Team Honor Students? Iori Izumi or Haruka Isumi?

Iori Izumi: It's probably me.

Tamaki Yotsuba: And from Team Rascals, it's me!

Nagi Rokuya: OK! And I, from Team Celeb!

Momo: Okay, get started! Rock, paper...

Iori, Tamaki, Nagi, & Riku: Scissors!

Iori Izumi: I won.

Yamato Nikaido: Ichi, the lobsters! Get us the lobsters!

Iori Izumi: Do you really like lobster that much, Nikaido-san?

Yamato Nikaido: There's a higher chance that we get to eat something good if we go to a fishing harbour!

Iori Izumi: Ugh... Are you fine with this as well, Kujo-san and Isumi-san?

Tenn Kujo: I don't mind.

Haruka Isumi: Sure.

Tamaki Yotsuba: I won the next round!

Mitsuki Izumi: Great job! Where do you wanna go, Tamaki?

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wanna go eat eggs. Are you guys cool with that?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Sure, why not? I'm sure fresh eggs will taste delicious!

Toma Inumaru: And they might have some kinda regional pudding that you can't get anywhere else! You like pudding, don't you?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ahaha! Yeah!

Nagi Rokuya: I have won the next match!

Riku Nanase: Aah! I lost!

Gaku Yaotome: Don't worry about it, Nanase.

Momo: Where do you wanna go, Nagi? It's either the Radiant 16-Grain or the General's Edamame!

Nagi Rokuya: The Radiant 16-Grain, which was my idea! I want to witness it for myself!

Sogo Osaka: Okay, I guess we'll be getting the millet rice.

Torao Mido: Doesn't really sound like a job for Team Celeb, though.

Riku Nanase: Where does Team Peace want to go!?

Yuki: Hehe. The beans are the only thing left.

Minami Natsume: That doesn't sound so bad, does it? I'm sure the General's Edamame will be delicious.

Gaku Yaotome: Right! Let's make the most of it!

Riku Nanase: Yeah!

Iori Izumi: ...Our meeting is finally over.

Mitsuki Izumi: Phew... But it was fun!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It's the first time all of us have gotten together for a long chat like this!

Nagi Rokuya: It was very lively!

Yamato Nikaido: I'm beat.

Torao Mido: There's still plenty for us to do.

Momo: Okay, wrap things up, you two!

Sogo Osaka: Yes.

Toma Inumaru: Ah, um...

Momo: Come on, louder...

Sogo & Toma: Meeting over!

All: Good work! 

Clap clap clap

To be continued...

[aion-rsa]

Why Kid Cosmic Is About “People, Not Powers”

https://ift.tt/3an0ID5

This feature contains some spoilers for Netflix’s Kid Cosmic.

After exploring the stretches of space, wonder, and imagination in shows like Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends and Wander Over Yonder, Craig McCracken returns to the realm of superheroes with Kid Cosmic, a more direct, comic book-esque take on the genre than his first smash hit show, The Powerpuff Girls. 

The show stars Kid, a young boy who finds a set of superpowered stones, and from there, all heck breaks loose. In the midst of fighting waves upon waves of aliens and creatures from other worlds, however, is an earnest, realistic story about a boy dealing with grief, and the small town that unites behind him through it all.

Den of Geek got a chance to chat with Craig over email about the show, about what it means to be a superhero, and how Netflix allowed for Kid Cosmic to explore that in a more mature, “all ages” way that’s arguably beyond the scope of most animated kids shows.

Den of Geek: Kid Cosmic is about a kid who is so engaged in comic books that when a set of super-powered stones literally lands at his feet, he wants to be a real superhero, arguably at some pretty significant costs and risk. What influenced you to come up with this specific premise? How do you view this, and the serial, thematic nature of it, against the immense number of superhero based media in the world today?

Craig McCracken: I was inspired by the supreme confidence that kids have at that age. I, like a lot of kids, dreamt of being a superhero when I was young, and in my fantasies I was always amazing and really good at it. I had that same confidence with my drawing when I was young. I drew all the time, I studied every cartoon and comic I could get my hands on, and I had the passion to do the job. I couldn’t understand why I had to grow up and go to art school before I could have that career, I was ready for the job at 12! 

The answer was that I wasn’t good enough yet, I had way more to learn (still do!). So I took that personal childhood experience with my drawing and applied it to superpowers instead. The thing that I feel sets Kid Cosmic apart from other hero-based media is that it’s focused less on epic hero mythologies and more on the smaller human stories. In writing the series we always reminded ourselves it’s about the people not the powers. 

Style wise, the show is heavily indebted to the classic comic book/serial look. The framing and storyboarding; the uses of fonts in the credits; the nifty end cards with the characters on fake comic books. One thing I’ve noticed, specifically, is that the movements at points were jumpy, as if frames were missing. Was that a conscious choice? Do you think that adds to the look and feel you’re going for?

A lot of the choices that we made in Kid were based on the fact that these are real people in the real world, they aren’t cartoon characters. So with the animation we avoided overly smooth and flowy actions or lots of squash and stretch, things that you associate with “cartoons.”  If an action felt natural on 3s or 4s we kept it. 

New Mexico as a setting is an inspired choice. There’s something freeing about its wide expanse of desert, but also terrifying in its (from a kids’ perspective) unexplored nothingness. How do you think the setting reflects the themes?

It’s not specifically New Mexico but sort of a generic rural southwest desert vibe. It could be New Mexico, it could be California, it could be Arizona, basically it’s a remote enough place where a spaceship could crash and not a lot of people would know about it. The other thing that is nice about the desert is that it forces you to tell a story about the characters because there is no surrounding environment for the characters to get distracted by, it’s a flat empty stage to play in. It’s also alone in the middle of nowhere, sort of like Earth is in the greater universe. 

This is, relatively speaking, darker than most kids animated shows. It has pretty brutal alien deaths, and while they’re dispatched in unique ways (colorful blood, “de-rezzing” out of existence), they’re still a bit more intense then what’s usually out there. How was Netflix in responding to this? Do you feel there may be a kind of commentary here on how sensitized kids may be to the kind of violence they witness in superhero comics and films?

Again that’s the reality creeping in, even though there is fantastic stuff happening, Kid Cosmic doesn’t take place in a fantasy world. Danger exists, the stakes are high. This just increases Kid’s struggle and makes it more real. At the beginning, Netflix said this isn’t specifically a “kid’s show” it’s an all ages show that can be watched by young viewers, families, animation fans, anybody. So from their perspective, anything that you might see in a big summer superhero movie was fair game. 

I want to talk about the Kid himself, who, to be blunt, is a lot to handle in the first few episodes. The approach seems to be that the Kid needs to learn a lesson about humility and what it means to be a “true hero.” But I’m also fascinated by his tragic backstory. It’s portrayed vaguely, but hints at his motivation. Do you feel that keeping the specifics of what happened to the Kid at arms’ length works to prop up the theme?

I wanted to tell a story about a real kid and kids at that age aren’t perfect. They make mistakes, they may be a bit intense or selfish and are hard to deal with sometimes. It’s part of growing up and maturing. Often heroes for young viewers are portrayed as aspirational. They always do and say the right things. I wanted Kid to be more realistic and relatable. 

Read more

TV

Why The Great North Isn’t Just Another Bob’s Burgers

By Shamus Kelley

TV

How The Ren & Stimpy Reboot Reignited the Debate Around Animation Gatekeepers

By Kevin Johnson

As far as his backstory goes, my father passed away when I was 7 so what motivates Kid to want to be a hero is very close to me. We felt he should have a more sincere motivation in wanting to be a hero other than it would be fun and cool. It had to come from a real place and losing his parents and wanting to stop bad things from happening felt more true. Keeping that part of the story at arms’ length was a way to keep the overall tone of the season balanced. Even though Kid carries this real and heavy weight around with him, we didn’t want it to drag down the overall fun and energetic tone of the series. 

Stuck Chuck is portrayed as the Kid’s conscious – specifically, his self-doubt, his frustrations, his lies. Can you go into more about the conception of this character?

Frank Angones, who I did early Kid development with, and I are both huge Buckaroo Banzai fans and we were talking about a scene that got cut out where after the Lectroid ship was destroyed Buckaroo found some random Red Lectroids left behind who forgot to get on the ship. We thought the idea of having to deal with random aliens was hilarious. So we applied that to Stuck Chuck, and what started out as a joke turned into an absolutely essential character. Chuck is not only a constant threat to Kid’s life but he is a constant threat to his confidence. He’s like an anti-Jiminy Cricket and is one of my favorite characters in the show. 

Later in the season, there’s a big twist in who the real villains are, and in the process, the depiction of superheroic antics are pushed up to a ridiculous degree. It almost feels like a winking satire of the whole “Space Force” thing. Was that intentional? Do you think there’s a tension that exists between the depiction of superheroes and their connection, however tenuous, to a military aggressiveness that merits more discussion?

I get asked that a lot, but I came up with Earth Force Enforcement Force long before Space Force. Aggressiveness is the right word. As a fan of superheros I’m tired of being told dark stories about heroes more focused on fighting and winning wars than actually helping the innocent victims of those conflicts.  I miss good guys that are actually “good guys.”

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

The ending, to keep things vague, is a pretty sudden transition from the initial premise. If granted a season 2, what other themes would you explore? Do you think you’ll be able to keep a solid grasp on the true nature of superheroics, if you place them in a new setting where over-the-top superheroics would be necessary?

We want to explore other ideas of what it really means to be a hero. If season 1 was “heroes help” what other aspects are essential to be a hero? So we plan on exploring that idea but through the experience of some of the other characters. Namely how does a teenage waitress from Earth suddenly lead a team of regular people to save the universe? Again it’s about the people, not the powers. 

The post Why Kid Cosmic Is About “People, Not Powers” appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3b7FtUX

[yourmandevine]

Some stuff that made me happy in 2020, in no particular order

God send you no greater loss. It’s something my grandmother said a lot — a bit of highly Irish Catholic wisdom intended to remind you, warmly but sharply, that whatever you’re currently suffering through isn’t all that bad compared to what lots of other people are dealing with. That it probably isn’t too much to complain about, in the grand scheme of things. That you should, instead, be grateful for what you’ve got, big and small and everything in between.

God sent a great many people a great many unfathomable losses this year, and as hard as it felt at times, our family wasn’t among them; we’re lucky, in the big picture. In the past, people have recommended I try writing those reasons down, to give myself a list of stuff to be thankful for, for the times it’s tough to summon up the gratitude. I figured the end of the year was as good a time as any to make that list, to highlight the stuff that helped me get through this year — the reasons big, small, and in between.

So: here goes.

Peanut butter and jelly

I haven’t counted how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’ve eaten since March 11, which is good, because that would be an absurd thing to do, and a sure sign that I have succumbed to a very specific kind of madness. It’s also good, though, because I would undoubtedly be ashamed by the number; the figure would be titanic, like the unsinkable ship of same name, or the iceberg that sunk it.

Or, at least, I would be ashamed under normal circumstances. This fuckin’ year required whatever flotation device you could find, and you know what I found in the fridge and cupboard? A couple of slices of bread, some strawberry jam, and some goddamn Skippy.

Need a weird mid-morning “brunch” after not having breakfast because you went right from waking up to remote school with the 6-year-old? Crank up a PB&J with that third cup of coffee. Need to pack something in the diaper bag to feed everyone while you’re out at the playground for the afternoon? Stack ‘em up, son. Need a late snack after working the overnight shift filing weird bubble playoff columns? Three letters, one ampersand, one love.

I need to eat better in 2021. But I kind of needed to eat sort of like shit to get through 2020, and time and again, when your man needed it most, PB&J was there.

Sunday night Zoom sessions with college friends

I know that most of us started something like this back in March; I’m not sure how many have stuck with it. I hope the answer is “a lot,” because honestly, knowing that I’m going to end the week by seeing a few friends — some here in Brooklyn but mostly beyond our reach for safety’s sake, some who’ve moved away — has felt like a stabilizing agent on more than a few occasions. It’s important, and no small blessing, to have people in your life who really know you, weird messy ugly bits and all, and in front of whom you can let everything go.

That gallery view’s provided a place to vent, to seethe, to laugh, to cry, and to try to find some semblance of center before heading back into another week. I’m grateful for it, and for the people in those little boxes. Except for the time they reminded me that, when I was 18, I was pretty sure I was a Pacey, and they were all extremely confident I was a Dawson. They were right, but still: a bitter pill to swallow, then and now.

Olivia calling herself “Dr. Bloody”

She took out her little toy doctor kit and just turned into a cackling villain.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dan Devine (@yourmandevine)

Deeply disconcerting, yes, but also adorable.

All Fantasy Everything

What got me in the door was the conceit: three very funny stand-up comedians (Ian Karmel, David Gborie, Sean Jordan), often with a very funny guest but sometimes without, pick some topic or another and engage in a fantasy draft of their favorite aspects or representations of that topic. (It is, crucially, a serpentine draft. Now what is that? That’s a great question.) Some favorite examples: Mikes; Words That You Think Make You Sound Smart, vols. 1 and 2; Things You Yell After You Dunk on Someone; Fictional Athletes; Crimes We’d Like to Commit. Yeah. It’s that kind of podcast.

What kept me around was the friendship. Listen to an episode and it becomes really clear really quickly just how much the three hosts love each other, how much fun they have being around each other and making one another laugh. The warmth radiates, just pours out of the speakers; in a year where I sorely needed some good vibes, I appreciated my regular check-ins with the Good Vibes Gang to just ... unclench for an hour and a half or so. 

Drinking beer

OK, I’ll admit: This doesn’t sound great for me. It’s true, though. I really like beer. (We brewed one in our kitchen, which I realize is something of a “bearded guy in Brooklyn” cliche, but here we are. It was exciting to complete a project, and it tasted OK-ish.) At some points this year, it didn’t feel like there wasn’t much to look forward to, and sometimes drinking some High Lifes or Narragansett tall boys — with my wife in our living room, with friends on the computer, whatever — helped take the edge off a shitty day/week/month/year. I look forward to being able to do that outside with people again.

The Good Place

I am sure some very smart cultural critics and political thinkers and social revolutionaries have forwarded compelling arguments for why this show is Bad, Actually, because that seems to be more or less true about most things, whether because said thing is Actually Bad or because the economics of the attention economy on the internet functionally necessitate the composition and publication of pretty much every position on pretty much every issue, and especially ones that present a counterargument for why you shouldn’t like the thing you like, and might be kind of a piece of shit for liking it. But I liked this half-hour comedy about the way the universe might be put together, why we should try to take better care of each other, and how doing so might be a pretty great way to take better care of ourselves.

Andrew let me write about it a little bit for a big project we did before the series finale aired, which was really nice of him. I found myself thinking about this part a lot this year:

I also thought a lot about Peeps Chili, but that happens every year.

Taking pictures of my dog

Check out this flumpy goddamn champion:

“Lugar is a good boy” is the main takeaway here. They don’t all have to be complicated.

Schitt’s Creek

I know we’re not alone in this, but we inhaled this show this year. A half-hour comedy about people being laid low, learning how to deal with who they actually are, and finding some grace and community and opportunities for growth kind of hit the spot, I guess.

One of the most wholesale enjoyable ensemble comedy casts I can remember; Catherine O’Hara was already in Cooperstown, but what she made with Moira Rose only polishes her plaque. I’ll never be able to describe with any specificity the thing Chris Elliott does, but I know it has made me laugh since I was a child too young to understand the Letterman bits or see Cabin Boy in the theater, and it’s probably going to make me laugh until I am dead.

I love that people who, for years, never got to see themselves or people like them on screen got to see David Rose on screen and maybe recognize themselves a little bit. The idea that seeing the David/Patrick relationship might make them maybe feel a little more at home, a little safer and more whole, makes me happy. Sad, about the before, but happy, about the now and the what comes next.

Past that, I just love how what was ostensibly a family-and-friends production for a Canadian channel just got absolutely everything right—the tone, the look, the sound, the theme song, the cast, the jokes, my goodness, the jokes—and before long, the rest of the world just got it. Like catching a fastball square on the barrel. Something the show clearly knew a little bit about.

Finding new outdoor places it was safe to go

Necessity is the mother of invention, and the need to give the kids a place to be that wasn’t unnecessarily dangerous but also wasn’t inside our two-bedroom apartment led us to do more exploring than we had before. Shirley Chisholm State Park is great. Canarsie Pier was a fun place to spend a Sunday morning; so’s Canarsie Playground. If we got there early enough or made our peace with some rain, the beaches at Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden were pretty rad this summer. I lived in Staten Island from ages 8 through 18, and during breaks throughout college, and don’t think I ever hiked in High Rock Park — that’s dumb, because it was nice!

Even if all those little excursions did was kill a little time and reduce the overall stress level of the four humans stuck in our four walls, that’s not nothing. Some days this year, it was everything.

Cobra Kai

I know I’m late here; I didn’t rush to seek it out because I don’t consider myself a huge fan of The Karate Kid, or at least not a big enough fan to sign up for YouTube’s premium service. I checked it out when it came to Netflix, though, and I honestly can’t believe how much I enjoyed this show. Give me “dumb, but with heart” every day of the week.

I believe in Miguel Diaz; I believe in Johnny Lawrence; I believe I will be firing up Season 3 next month, and perhaps drinking some Coors Banquets in its honor. (I cannot, however, believe how the “get him a body bag” thing came back around, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Closing unread tabs

I’m a serial hoarder of links, and I am bad at finishing all of them. I’ve tried to get into Pocket and Instapaper, but I’ve never been able to turn that sort of workflow — open link, save to third-party service, go back to third-party service later to read, then delete from there — into something that felt instinctual, natural, or habitual. So: lots of tabs. Like, lots of tabs.

This was a dicier proposition than usual in 2020, because cutting my work week in half to be able to more effectively coparent two kids who didn’t have school or day care for most of the year meant less time to read things.

I tried to do my best to keep up with the important stuff for work, and to read at least some stuff about how other parents were dealing with their anxiety/anger/depression/frustration at having to be on 24/7 and work, and to stay abreast of (at least some of) what was happening in the world. Sometimes, though, I would wake up and realize I’d been holding onto blog posts about Really Interesting Rotation Decisions on the 11th-Seeded Team in the East or whatever for literally nine months, and I would go against my nature and just hit the eject button on a 25-deep window, and something amazing would happen: I wouldn’t get fired for being shitty at my job. I would move on with my day, and I would feel about 10 pounds lighter.

I still keep too much stuff open. (As we speak, I’ve got three different Chrome windows open on two different laptops. I choose not to count the total tabs.) But I do so knowing that, if it gets too heavy, I can experience the momentary joy of surrendering to the inevitability that I can’t catch everything. In that moment, I feel OK with my decay.

Reading writers I wasn’t familiar with before

Two in particular stand out in my mind: Nekias Duncan, now of BasketballNews.com, who does excellent film breakdowns and statistical analysis, and Katie Heindl, who writes basketball stuff of all types all over the place, and strings sentences together in a way that scratches an itch inside my brain. I’m grateful I got more chances to read them this year, I look forward to bigger and better things for both of them, and I’m hopeful that, if things calm down and our schedules go back to something approximating normalcy, I’ll have more bandwidth to hunt out more new voices in the year ahead.

The time I ambushed my wife as she was trying to break down and put away the girls’ space tent

Pretty good.

Siobhan learning to ride a bicycle (with training wheels, but still)

The moment passed pretty quickly; Not Exactly A Mechanic over here can’t get the training wheels to reliably work right without either loosening them too much or tightening them so much that she can’t pedal it. In that first moment, though, and for as long as it lasted, it was really great to see her get excited about doing something new, big kid shit, for the first time.

She was proud. I was proud of her. And then we went to a playground for a few hours. Pretty good day.

Tyler Tynes roasting me

Tyler did some incredible work this year — The Cam Chronicles is getting deserved praise as one of 2020′s best podcasts, and his reporting on the Movement for Black Lives was exemplary. It’s hard to top this, though:

You know what the messed up part is? I was excited to tell him what I was doing, just because I knew the reaction would be so violent. Like a body rejecting a transplant. So lucky to have such a dear, dear friend.

PUP

I’m late on everything, so I didn’t start listening to PUP until the spring of 2019, but I haven’t really stopped since. This year has been too sedentary too often; this band is too kinetic to allow me to stay there.

“Bloody Mary Kate and Ashley Kate” is never more than about 20 minutes away from returning to the front of my mind. I would fucking love for it to be safe enough to watch these guys live at some point, and I am absolutely going to take Steve up on his offer.

Someone sending me a shirt based on a joke I tweeted

First:

Then:

Then:

I’m not sure you should be rewarding my behavior, SnoCoPrintShop, but I appreciate it all the same.

Which reminds me:

Family dinner/family movie night

My wife works in Manhattan and commutes back on the train, and we've tried to prioritize getting the girls to bed early since they were little, so that doesn’t leave much of a window between when she gets home and they go in the tub for us all to connect; before everything shut down, we almost never really ate together. We’re still not great about it, but for a while now we’ve carved out Saturday as family dinner night, where we sit down to eat and talk about our “up” from the day — something that happened that made us feel good or happy, or something we’re looking forward to. (We used to talk about our “down,” too, but that kind of seemed like overkill. Why try to focus on more bad shit right now, you know?)

Then we settle in for a movie, with who gets to pick rotating each week. It’s mostly been Pixar, which has been great but also has its drawbacks; after she caught me crying during one of them (maybe the Bing-Bong scene in Inside Out? or Miguel singing to Grandma Coco?), Siobhan straight up told me, “You need to get yourself together, man.” We just watched My Neighbor Totoro, too, which they loved, so we’re probably going to try some more Miyazaki soon. It’s a really simple thing, but it’s one we rarely made time for before, and it’s been really nice to manufacture something positive that we can share and look forward to together.

Sometimes looking like a shiftless drifter

No shade to anyone who felt strongly about getting a lineup or whatever, but I haven’t really felt like going to the barbershop was worth the risk, and I continue to refuse to believe that my wife can actually pull off the fade she’s long wanted to give me. (It is also possible that she just means she’s intending to run my fade, and that I will before long wind up cold-cocked and slumped by my bride of nine years.) So I’ve just kind of been growing out my hair like it was when I was single, and sometimes been letting my beard get kind of out of control too, and, well, I sort of like looking a little bit like a Wildling, it turns out.

I have since trimmed things up a little. It didn’t go over well with my youngest. Oh, well. I’ll try to do better next time.

My wife and daughter singing the Pixies

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dan Devine (@yourmandevine)

We don’t know all the words to too many lullabies, so we sing the ones we do know the words to. This will probably come back to bite us in the years ahead. For now, though: Pretty good.

Doughboys’ Tournament of Chompions: Munch Madness: Mac Attack

I can’t believe how invested I became in Nick Wiger and Mike Mitchell’s quest to determine the best menu item at McDonald’s in a 64-seed tournament that spawned hours and hours of delightfully funny audio featuring all-time home-run guests like Jon Gabrus and Nicole Byer, who gleefully feed into the often warm, sometimes antagonistic, always entertaining chemistry between the two hosts. I have also never found myself wanting to go to McDonald’s more in my entire life. I have hit the drive-thru a couple of times since, and the boys are right: The McDonald’s fountain Coke does just hit different.

Sound Only

I’ve lost track of whether or not a 38-year-old is considered a millennial, but I’m quite confident that I’m not exactly plugged into “the millennial lifestyle” as my teammates Justin Charity and Micah Peters discuss it on their podcast, which relaunched this summer. Doesn’t matter, though, because I love hearing Charity and Micah talk to each other even if I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Their conversation about Dave Chappelle was great. After listening to their Travis Scott episode, I felt like I kind of understood who he is and why he occupies the space he does in pop culture now. I had no idea how they were going to get me to give a shit about set photos from The Batman, but this they not only got me there, but wended their way toward blaming 50 Cent for needing to know who Groot is to have a conversation on the internet, which is something for which Abraham Lincoln did not die. The show is good, it's getting better, it’s fun to hear them talk their shit, and Charity’s regular bellowing of “I, TOO, AM AMERICA” has made me smile for four straight months. 

Siobhan’s letters and notes

She’s in first grade now, and she’s taken to communicating her feelings through the written word. A lot.

I won’t pretend that I loved all of these in the moment. I can only get so upset, though, when she’s already writing with such a clear voice. (And trying to use proper punctuation. (And drawing little cartoons to drive the point home.)

Palm Springs

I’m having a hard time remembering too many specifics about it right now, which probably means it’d be a good thing to rewatch over the holidays. But, as I’m sure many people noted many months before we got around to watching it, a comedy about living the same day over and over again, and about trying to figure out how to make your life mean something when everything seems meaningless, scratched a pretty particular, and particularly important, itch this year. It could’ve been twice as long, and I would’ve eaten up every second of Andy Samberg and Cristin Miloti together.

I’m pretty sure I cried, although this year, that doesn’t necessarily mean much.  Also, put Conner O’Malley in more things.

Joining our union’s bargaining committee

I won’t say too much about this, but I will say that becoming an active participant in the process of a labor union negotiating its first contract with management has been an extremely educational experience. It’s pushed me to have conversations, sometimes difficult ones, about our priorities as a staff and a company. It's helped me get closer with the other past and present members of the BC, and has led me to start developing relationships with members of our staff that I otherwise might not have had much of an opportunity to get to know.

The organizing work takes time, effort, and energy, but trying to do what I can to help take better care of my colleagues has been well worth all of that. Here’s hoping that in 2021 we can reach a deal that helps make our workplace even better, stronger, and more equitable for all of us.

Publishing a story about Stevie Nicks’ Fajita Roundup

I swear this is true: After I accepted my offer to work at The Ringer, but before I started, I told a friend that one thing I was excited about was that you had the chance to work on offbeat stuff here, in both the “kind of weird” and “not about the NBA” senses. That, I thought, might maybe open the door to me getting to write a story about a Saturday Night Live sketch I saw when I was a teenager about Stevie Nicks from Fleetwod Mac running a cheap Tex-Mex restaurant in Sedona, Arizona — a sketch that I wasn’t sure anyone else remembered, but that was stuck in my head forever.

That story ran on May 26.

A lot of people seemed to like it.

Accomplishing this goal was, as dumb as this might sound, a highlight of my year, and, honestly, a highlight of my career. I’d like to do some more stuff like this next year, time permitting; we’ll see. Whether or not I do, I got to do this. I’ll always have that.

[sumayyamayya]

久しぶりー Long time no see!

I lost count of how long has it been since last time I checked this blog. After all these years, at this point, we ended up in the same situation. For the first time in the history of our generation that people all over the world under same circumstances and can actually understand each other. I believe that we all started 2020 with plans, optimism, targets, and goals to improve ourselves. Oh just how much I had hopes for this year. A small update, I am finally able to study overseas after years of trying, I finally came to Japan last year which makes one of the most important milestone in my life.

A lot of things has changed since I started my life here. I get used to new lifestyle, friends, language, culture, way of thinking, and others that I might not have realized yet. This has been exciting until the pandemic came. For once I thought, this would be a good thing to give myself a break, especially that it happened around Ramadan, I could prepare myself better and get through Ramadan in the best condition. Little did we know that until this day, some of us are still in confinement and stuck inside our rooms. Personally, I am grateful that I am well physically, mentally, and financially Alhamdulillah. However, I feel the need to write as I have a lot of time to think and reflect on my life. 

I have never felt so nostalgic as often as I am now. It feels strange, almost like I realize how a lot of moments just gone before my eyes and yet I missed a lot of things. I went through old pictures, replaying moments after moments, browsing through my facebook and found some relatives and old friends, checking them out to see how they are doing, got a slight intention to greet them but too hesitant. Some got me laugh while some brought tears. It is such a mixed feelings that brings both joyfulness and regrets at the same time. For all of you who read this, please forgive me. I know how much I have took all of you for granted and how I often forgot to say a simple thanks for all your kindness when we had our moments.

I came to some self-realization these past few months--in which I didn’t care much about before and still a lot more to explore. I started to think a lot about what kind of future I want to be in and what kind of person I am aspiring to become. These are merely plans with a lot of uncertainty of its becoming later, but at least, I know what to put in my prayer, a more specific kind. I realize the parts of my life that I have enjoyed the most, the one that was rare but truly valuable, apparently. That would be family time. Born and raised in Jakarta, I live far from my relatives--cousins, aunts, uncles, the close and distant ones. I always waited for special occasions, especially weddings, when we would all gather even though I hate the part where I should choose which clothes to use and put make up on, or the part when I would feel awkward when it comes to interact with most of them because I didn’t feel like I knew them well enough. Despite all that, I could feel the warmth and comfort that exist within the vibes during those occasions. This is what I would put specifically in my pray now, among other else, that I don’t care about what kind of life I am leading, where I would live in, what I would be, as long as I could have the privilege of stay connected to them and surrounded by people whom I love without having to say it aloud, people who give can provide warmth and to whom I can also provide the same.

These times of lack of social interaction has really made me crave for the best quality one, and made me realize of what mattered the most while it had been absent whole my life. I had forgotten of the aspect of life that our Prophet SAW has also advised us to maintain and reminded once again during this alone time.

The Prophet (SAW) said: “Whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, let him maintain the bonds of kinship.”(Bukhari)

[dinomight]

all the stars in all the skies: a playlist for Home and a Half by @echodrops

the chain - fleetwood mac // sorrow - the national // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after sex // child i will hurt you - crystal castles // constant craving - the cat and owl // run boy run - woodkid // female robbery - the neighbourhood // sleepsong - bastille // small things - ben howard // iron - woodkid // greens of june - neko case // mars - sleeping at last // iscariot - walk the moon // human - daughter // body - mother mother // i come with knives - iamx // all these things that i’ve done - the killers // an angry blade - iron & wine // all the stars - the wailin’ jennys // i’ll be good - jaymes young // slow wake up sunday morning - mountain man // someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic // it’s alright - mother mother // this is home - cavetown

Song explanations under the cut!

First I’d like to clarify: I’m not insane. I’m just a huge ass dork for this fic. (For a lot of things, really, but irrelevant.) HaaH is one of my favorite written works ever, fanfiction or not, so I really, truly should not have been surprised that this playlist ended up being so much longer than I meant for it to be, and it probably could’ve been even longer if I’d let myself keep going. In my defense, I can’t art, so this is one of my only ways to show my appreciation.

Anyways, I’m not gonna wax poetics about how much I love this story because we would be here all day and this post is too long as it is, so down to business: this playlist is very loosely structured. It’s hard to give the songs a significant order when only a few correspond to specific moments or lines; most of them I chose to focus more on bigger picture themes and concepts from the story. So the order isn’t that important, I just organized them so they’d transition relatively smoothly sound-wise and tried to keep similar concepts together. Additionally, I did use both quotes from the fic and the songs in some of my explanations, so fic quotes are bolded and song lyrics are in italics. Some of these are short, some are a bit longer, some are just the quotes because I didn’t feel the need to explain further, but hopefully all of them give a good idea of why I chose the song. I thought about just posting the playlist by itself, but I felt weird not explaining the thinking behind it, so uh, here it is I guess? 

1) The Chain - Fleetwood Mac: The best song in existence. Objectively speaking, of course. The first time I heard this while thinking of HaaH though, it just fit so well, and I haven’t really been able to un-associate the two since. (Not that I want to lol) It just has such a desert vibe to it that matches with the story, and I think it represents Keith’s desperation to avoid rejection from the team so well. It’s like...if I were to picture a trailer for HaaH, this is the song I would hear in the background, y’know? 

2) Sorrow - The National: This one’s a bit of a weird one because I can’t quite put into words why this is on here. Like, I added it back when I was just throwing some songs together for background atmosphere while reading HaaH, but when I was working to make this into something more thought out, I couldn’t bring myself to take this song off. So here it is, I guess. 

3) Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex: This one is here more for its sound and atmosphere, not really the lyrics. It just sounds like...nostalgia, I guess. Like it’s supposed to be reminiscing about something comforting, but it’s not quite there because the pain of the present is keeping you rooted. The way I hear it, it’s like Keith is thinking about his mom and her love and comfort, but it’s tainted by the loss of all of that. (I might be slightly insane. I’ve come to terms with that.) 

4) Child I Will Hurt You - Crystal Castles: I don’t know how else to phrase this so I’m just gonna say it: this song gives me the heebie jeebies, just like Keith’s flashbacks to his earlier times with the Garrison. I swear, every time he says replacement mother or father it gives me chills. Or makes me want to cry a bit. It just feels so wrong, and that’s why I picked this song, ‘cause it gives me the same feeling. The music is so soft, like it was supposed to be a lullaby, but the lyrics and the feeling underneath is...disturbing. Plus, “Hide all that you could / Done for the greater good / It’s later understood” reminds me all too well of the Garrison scientists and what they did to Keith. 

5) Constant Craving - The Cat and Owl: So while I was searching for songs to add, it suddenly occurred to me that despite the fact that one of Keith’s major problems is that he can’t put his thoughts and feelings into words properly, every single song I’d added did exactly that. And so began my search for some instrumental songs that unfortunately only turned up this one, mostly because I realized this playlist was getting far too long lol. Though now that I’ve thought about it, an all instrumental HaaH playlist would be an interesting challenge. Hm. I already knew I wanted to add Constant Craving as a sort of representation for Keith’s own craving for love, acceptance, and family, but when I heard this version I knew it was right. Keith knows he desperately needs all these things, but he can’t put it into words, can’t communicate it right. It’s made even better by how well known the original song is, because you can feel the familiarity in it, feel what’s missing and what should be there, but it’s different at the same time, like that absence has created something strange, something off-kilter from what it should have been. Plus it’s sorta a lullaby version, which I like since Keith’s childhood is an often reoccurring topic. 

6) Run Boy Run - Woodkid: Seems to me like there’s a lot of shit Keith’s been running from. (also...running makes me think of “escaped from the Garrison”. Escaped. Escaped. ESCAPED.)

7) Female Robbery - The Neighbourhood: There’s some really fucked up stuff in Keith’s past in addition to the whole Galra thing, and he really does not want the team to find out any of it. This song makes me think a lot about that. 

8) Sleepsong - Bastille: “You go to sleep on your own / And you wake each day with your thoughts / And it scares you being alone, it's a last resort” & “All you want is someone onto whom you can cling / Your mother warned of strangers and the dangers they may bring / Your dreams and memories are blurring into one / The scenes which hold the waking world slowly come undone.” ...yeah.

9) Small Things - Ben Howard: Another song that’s on here more for the sound than the lyrics, though the lyrics could possibly fit. I just love the dreamy, suspended feeling that this song exudes and how well it fits with the feeling that Keith’s flashbacks and memories give me. 

10) Iron - Woodkid: “But Keith was gone—every reflex retuned for battle, every nerve sparking under his skin, and all there was fight, win, refuse to be killed.“ - “I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest / I'm ready for the fight, and fate” So the lyrics don’t *exactly* match up, but the underlying themes are there, I think, and the atmosphere of this one was more important to me anyways. The intensity of it just screams fighting and death and red to me. 

11) Greens of June - Neko Case, k.d. lang, Laura Veirs: “Just in the moment / Everything's changed / My dark disposition / Has been rearranged” The arrival of the kids is certainly not a very happy time considering the circumstances, but it brought a change that Keith desperately needed, one that will hopefully help him actually be happy. (My other reason for choosing this song is, for whatever reason, it also gives me desert vibes.) 

12) Mars - Sleeping at Last: “We let the end goal blind us to the means. We’ll have to re-evaluate before we take on any more missions. If violence is our go-to method of beating the enemy, we’re no better than the empire ourselves.” -  "Lay your weapons down! / They're calling off the war / On account of losing track / Of what we're fighting for." The team has taken up an immense and necessary duty to protect the universe, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get caught up in the grey areas of war, and it doesn’t mean they get to come home without scars. 

13) Iscariot - WALK THE MOON: Broganes, anyone? For real though, this song is about betrayal between two people who are essentially brothers (specifically Jesus and Judas but I didn’t pick it for the religious references). While I don’t think Shiro is gonna see Keith being Galra and hiding it as a personal betrayal, Keith clearly does. “How long did he have left before…Before Lance said he’d known all along there was something wrong with Keith, before Pidge threw his hypocrisy back in his face: no secrets between paladins, huh? Before Allura turned her back on him. Before Shiro couldn’t, and Keith had to meet his eyes, watch betrayal dawn white-star bright and burning.” Ah. That sweet, terrible angst.

14) Human - Daughter: “Underneath the skin there's a human / Buried deep within there's a human / And despite everything I'm still human / But I think I'm dying here.” I think this song works on two levels. One, you can take “human” to be quite literal and interpret it as Keith’s desperation to hide his Galra heritage and keep pretending that he’s entirely human, even though it clearly has awful emotional repercussions for him. Two, you can look at “human” with a metaphorical lens to talk about how even though Keith seems like a cold tough guy on the surface, underneath that is a complicated mess of emotions and trauma, and not being able to properly deal with all of that is killing him. 

15) Body - Mother Mother: One of the things about HaaH that I find most interesting is Keith’s relationship with his body. Between the whole Galra form vs human form, the fact that his human form is not how he was born, and everything that the Garrison did to him...it’s a goddamn mess. Hence, this song. can I please give this boy a hug 

16) I Come With Knives - IAMX: First and foremost, I had to include this song for the irony, because Keith did, in fact, come with a knife. However, I also included it because I really like how on the surface, it can be written off as just another angsty emo song, but if you take the time to really listen to it, it’s filled with genuine emotion and hurt. (Almost like a certain knife-wielding alien boy I know...)

17) All These Things That I’ve Done - The Killers: I have a few different reasons for why this song is here, but the main one is pretty much “I got soul, but I’m not a soldier”. I mean...yeah. That screams Keith to me. He’s driven and angry and passionate and willing to fight so hard to protect the people he loves, but...that doesn’t mean he’s emotionally okay with being a soldier, even if the rest of the team seems to think otherwise.

18) An Angry Blade - Iron & Wine: Another one that immediately earned points for Keith irony in the title. Seriously though, I love the tone of this song for Keith. It’s got desert vibes to it, and maybe it’s just because my hearing isn’t fantastic, but I like that the lyrics are a bit hard to make out. You really have to listen. (Again, almost like...hmm...) Plus: “You’re an angry blade and you’re brave / But you’re all alone”

19) All the Stars - The Wailin’ Jennys: I swear I didn’t just pick this for the title. It was a little bit for the title though, sue me. Nope, it was more for “So open wide your wounded heart / Feel yourself be blown apart” because for the love of god, Keith, please open up a bit more to the people around you. On a more serious note, I was also struck by “You don’t know me / You know one side of a story” because it’s true for both Keith and his mother. The Keith part is obvious--the team, with the exception of Shiro, only really sees the Keith that’s on the surface. But it’s kinda true for Keith and his mom too, right? He’s missing so much information because of his spotty memories. Up until the kids arrived, it seems like he didn’t even consider the idea that she might be, y’know, not evil. So...yeah. Also “All the stars in the sky / Say goodbye say goodbye” because I didn’t need my heart, it’s fine, it’s okay, I’m not crying over a fictional character and the death of his alien mother, there’s just dirt in my eyes--

20) I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young: “But if there was a way to stop the blood flowing down his glove, the sound a sword made when it struck bone, the way her breath came in pieces between the shocks her sobs, then he definitely would have... “ - “I've been cold, I've been merciless / But the blood on my hands scares me to death / Maybe I'm waking up today”

21) Slow Wake Up Sunday Morning - Mountain Man: “It's lucid dreaming; he knew it wasn't real, not anymore, but still he couldn't focus his eyes, couldn't see past the fall of her hair in the pale morning light...” - “The light / It moves / Across this room / Like it could reach us, honey” & “We are already there, it seems / (I know I can't stay in this place)” I don’t quite know how to explain why I connected this song with this moment beyond the whole early morning thing but...this moment was an especially emotional one for me. It felt like something Keith wanted to hold on to, wanted to go back to, but just like the sun continues rising, the world keeps moving, regardless of whether we want it to or not. 

22) Someone to Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic: “You were alone left out in the cold / Clinging to the ruin of your broken home / Too lost and hurting to carry your load / We all need someone to hold” I just...yeah. There’s not much I need to say about this one. Just Keith and the kids, man. 

23) It’s Alright - Mother Mother: Whenever I listen to this song, I feel like I’m getting a hug. Since I cannot project myself into fictional stories and hug the characters myself, I instead gift this song to Keith. Please, someone give this boy more hugs. Please.

24) This is Home - Cavetown: “Get a load of this monster / He doesn't know how to communicate / His mind is in a different place / Will everybody please give him a little bit of space / Get a load of this trainwreck / His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet / But little do we know the stars welcome him with open arms / Oh / Time is / Slowly / Tracing his face / But strangely he feels at home in this place.” <3

This got way too long, so to anyone who actually made it through all of that, I sincerely apologize. >.<

[figuretealeavely]

IN THE LOOP - check yourselves

I recently had the chance to go to Skate Canada International in Montreal. It was a really wonderful experience and I feel grateful to have been able to enjoy it. The event was well-organized, the volunteers were incredibly nice, and the audience was supportive and friendly. It was therefore extremely dismaying to find that one of the newest and most popular journalism sources for figure skating had such a, frankly, inaccurate, skewed, and alarming perception of the event.

Let’s look at what In the Loop’s goals are:

When I first saw this I was really encouraged because I agree that this is what the sport needs. And I listened to a few early podcast episodes, which I thought were pretty enjoyable. However, last week, I tuned in again and found something rather uninformed in their tone about Russian skaters. 

In re: Tarasova/Morozov:

Red: Yeah. They always look like there’s skating to the formula and they don’t really care [about] anything else as long as they’re getting what they need to get the high score that..I don’t know, it’s just very formulaic there’s not a whole lot of emotion like all were saying.

Yogeeta: Hashtag skating while Russian.

...

Red: That’s how it is with most of the Russian pairs, I’ve noticed.  And sometimes even Russian Ice Dance, it’s just formulaic. It’s just there. It happens. They did really well technically, but you never really feel anything from it.

About Russians in general:

Yogeeta: Yeah. I think in general Romeo and Juliet programs - their music cut isn’t really good. I never want to hear a Romeo and Juliet voiceover that isn’t “Juliet” [Referring to Junhwan Cha’s voiceover] ever again.

Sam: Skaters out there, voiceover is for camp and very Russian programs. It’s not for you when you’re trying to be serious. It doesn’t work as well.

...

Red: I definitely liked her skating a lot more than some of the other Russian skaters I’ve seen in the past. You can tell that she really does enjoy what she does. She ended both of her performances with a huge smile, so that was really nice to see. But I still think there’s some of that in there, like what you usually see from a lot of these Russian skaters is just “We go out, we do our job, we get it done.” You know? It doesn’t feel as passionate. But I still think she did a really good job.

I was extremely shocked to read this blatantly UNEDUCATED take on pairs. Now, if someone decides that they don’t like “Russians” (whatever that means), I cannot stop you. But it is quite another thing to say that all Russians don’t show emotion, that you don't feel anything from it, and don’t enjoy what they do. Or that Russian pairs are “formulaic.” Perhaps they are not aware of the extensive, epic, and game-changing legacy of Russian pairs skaters. Or even worse, perhaps they are aware and choose to ignore it to write off the current pairs AND the entire history of the discipline in one go. Listen, if you don't know much about pairs, that’s totally fine. Not everyone likes every event. But don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about and spread this as the truth when it is clearly not steeped in any deep knowledge of the sport. Where is the “international perspective” or “in-depth historical data”?

I wish I could say things improved from there, but they did not. Again, the audience was VERY respectful at Skate Canada, did not boo anyone, cheered for all, and especially the home team skaters. By the way, for anyone who has ever attended a sporting event, this is normal behavior. I noticed I was sitting within viewing distance of the In the Loop crowd, but didn’t think much of it. But I want to emphasize this because I heard exactly what they heard in the same area of the rink. So when I read this:

Kite: I want to say I was not super impressed with some of the audience not really cheering for the non-Canadian skaters. It was something I noticed. I mean, it is an event in Canada, it’s called Skate Canada, of course you’re gonna be going all out for your home skaters. 

...

Kat: Yeah, Vanessa and Morgan got a huge standing ovation and they got a lot of cheer, and obviously, they deserved it. And also Evgenia got a lot of cheering as well, but I guess she’s been adopted into the Canadians, kind of?

Kite: Well she’s also just so well known and I think she has become a pretty beloved figure for a lot of fans post-Olympics.

Kat: Yeah, I guess so.

Kite: So yeah, it was either if you were a very well known skater, or if you were a Canadian/French skater.

Nina: I wish the well-known points would have counted towards some of the Men’s skaters.

Gina: Yeah, it was really obvious when streaming that the crowd was just so half-hearted who wasn’t either really well known or Canadian.

I was a bit irked because the audience cheered for EVERYONE. Perhaps they were more enthusiastic about the Canadians but guess what? You are in Canada. It’s not exactly shocking behavior, and I’m glad to see the home skaters got attention. A truly rude crowd is one that is salty to their own - what we should encourage is more casual fans becoming serious fans, and that starts with them cheering for a home team. It’s true that for others it may start with the fact that the skater is another nationality, but the majority of people are not this way. Just a reality check.

By the way, it is really stretch to tie everyone who got super loud cheers back to Canada, or to assume that ALL CANADIANS LOVE FRENCH PEOPLE. Excuse me, what kind of generalization is this? Certainly NOT a primer “on cross-disciplinary areas such as sociology, medicine, media, gender studies, and politics.” I was at the event with many people and none of them found the crowd half-hearted. And guess what, only one of us was Canadian (no, it is not me) (no, I am not a middle-aged Canadian white person, in fact I am none of the above).

And then this:

Gina: I am going to get banned from Canada, I’m never allowed to enter, I find Canadians so boring.

Kite: Go off!

Gina: I’m sorry! I found the performance-

Nina: I was trying to be diplomatic.

Gina: Really one-note and really dull. I think they rely, especially in their Free Program, they rely a bit too much on the music to provoke a response in the audience rather than working with the music to create something themselves.

Kat: I agree.

Gina: I just find them so dull.

Kat: A note on the music: So they skated to Pink Floyd in their Free Skate, and that is such… A lot of the Canadians, I’ve noticed, pick oldies to skate to-

Nina: So Canadian…

Kat: Yeah, they pick oldies to skate to. That elicits a response from a certain demographic.

Gina: I think I’m about 30 years too young for Canada.

On Keegan:

Nina: Oh, I’m very curious to see what his scores will look like at other locations.  

Kat: Yeah because our crowd obviously got really, really into his programs.  

Gina: I don’t understand Canadians. I will say that I was correct last time that his Short Program is much more enjoyable when I mute the music.                     

Nina: This just in, Gina doesn’t like oldies.

It is extremely unprofessional and rude to write off an ENTIRE COUNTRY based off a few figure skating performances you found uninspiring. By the way, if Pink Floyd is an “oldie” that you dislike, then what exactly is Shoma Uno’s Led Zeppelin cover SP? The bias is rather jarring and way worse than anything I hear on live tv. Which by the way, is already pretty bad, so if your goal is to encourage “critical, educated fans” with “sociology” and “politics” I’d say you are doing pretty much the exact opposite of that.

In fact, they seem to have a very poor understanding of why Canada is a country that produces a lot of skaters, whether for themselves or others. During the ice dance event they say:

Kat: The most enthusiastic crowds for sure, like most of the front row seats were pretty filled for ice dance considering it was - they were both like early evening events as well, like they started at around six or seven. It's not super late either, so a lot more people were able to attend their, you know, it's like off work hours. I guess Canadians come watch Ice Dance when that happens.

Actually, rather than Canadians all collectively deciding to watch ice dance after work, In the Loop might want to consider that Montreal is currently the global hub of Ice Dance with Gadbois, and many of their teams were at this event. And I believe there was a large contingent of affiliated skaters, families, and friends in the stands. Do your diligence.

And then, back to the Russians:

Nina: The Free Dance seemed like it was supposed to be clean, and glassy, and very elegant, but they didn't really have the tech to back it up-

Kite: No, they do, they have good tech, like their tech is fine. It was just boring, like it didn't connect to the audience.

Nina: I feel like this will make no sense but it felt like their program wanted to be very lyrical- not lyrical, but like balletic, almost? Like the vibe-

Kat: That’s very Russian.

Very Russian, is it?

Let’s remind ourselves again:

Don’t overextend yourself before you educate yourself on what you’re actually trying to do. Please, In the Loop, moderate your tone and biases. It is very clear to me that you guys have your favorites - we all do. But there is absolutely no need to sacrifice education, information, professionalism, and your raison d’être above in order to talk about other countries’ figure skating traditions, fans, and history.

By the way, the last thing I want to do is censor anyone. If you want to say these things, by all means go ahead. But please do not try to come across as serious, objective journalists who encourage varied discussion because new fans will be influenced to follow your reasoning. It is not hard to lay out the facts and THEN present your biases as your own. There is no need to conflate the latter with the former. 

As a final note, for fans who were so disappointed with the event and the people who attended, it seems they had no qualms about taking seats that they did not pay for and openly bragging about it on social media:

I am extremely disappointed in what was once a promising new journalism outlet losing credibility rather quickly via what appears to be unprofessional generalizations about culture, fandoms, and everything they purport to encourage discourse about. Do better, In the Loop. 

[wearebadcode]

‘What lies ahead’

An Apocalypse!AU one-shot inspired by Frank Turner’s ‘Brave face’ and ‘21st century survival blues’ songs. I might expand it at some point -prequel(s) inclusive 😊 Hope you like it!

Oh. If you wanna expand this into a vivid whole experience, you might wanna go to @icarli profile to check this AU aesthetic. It’s awesome!

Autumn had already set in. The always colorful Atlanta was now painted in a bright yellow, orange, red and brown chromatic color scheme. The fall sunlight reflected over the bright woody colors, filling the air with some kind of orange, red sky lights. Soaking in Atlanta's fall colors by walking through the streets of the wooded city was quite an experience. Streets were flooded with trees leaves and roads got foggy as temperature plummeted.

But it was on that autumn when the spooky atmosphere vibe was spookier than ever. The spookiest Chloe remembered since the outbreak.

The city, the state, and supposedly the whole country -maybe the whole world by now- collapsed to their core when this weird and contagious epidemic virus began spreading. The virus was lethal and its consequences, ruthless and savage. Fever, followed by delirium, was the first symptom for the virus to appear. Then and once the blood and internal tissue got infected, the quick and aggressive degradation process of the body began. Rotting was what awaited the bodies in the virus' final stage. Dead tissue. Body decomposition. Death. But a living one, quite paradoxically -which was even worse than death itself.

The first corpse Chloe ever saw was a year and a half ago, on the Atlanta tv news, at their home at Barden campus. When it all began. When they were all still together. When all of them were alive.

But that was then. This was now. What was left of them. Their now. A savage world that became a constant and raw reminder of the things they had to left behind, the family who was no longer by their side. A world in which they had to keep living, reminding and honoring the(ir) fallen ones. That was their ultimate goal: survival.

It was early morning now, the sun was rising. Chloe was sitting on a roof of a house in the middle of nowhere -fog and trees surrounding it. She was now focusing on some corpses who were sleep-walking here and there. The sounds those things made were disgusting -guttural, throaty; as if something inside of what was left of the corpses' vocal chords had ripped. The smell was indescribable.

Chloe, then, heard a sound behind her -she had always her guard up due to the nature of the actual world. The redhead turned her head then her body, prepared to drive her waist-knife into whatever creature. But she recoiled as soon as she saw a familiar figure approaching towards her.

"Hey, sleepyhead" Chloe said, smiling. "I didn't wanna wake you up, so I figured-"

"-you'd be up here by yourself, yeah. I figure that out, too" Beca said softly as she smiled and placed a kiss on Chloe's forehead, before she sat down by the redhead's side. "Couldn't sleep?".

"Not really" Chloe whispered as she placed her head over Beca's left shoulder. "I keep having nightmares now and then. It's been such a rough month...".

October began just like every month. They weren't all alive, they're fewer then -but they're still six of them left alive: Stacie, Flo, Emily, Aubrey, Beca and Chloe. Things were quiet for a while, but they eventually lost Flo and Stacie, who got bitten. A herd of corpses surprised the two women when they're scavenging a few miles away from the house they all were set. 

Flo was caught by the herd. Stacie was close -she got bitten trying to get Flo out, but she couldn't do anything. So the tall one ran out instead and eventually made it to the house. By the end of the month, only four of them were still alive -they had to put Flo out of her misery, rejecting the idea of seeing her friend turn; and Stacie pretty much rejected that idea too when she asked their friends to end her due to her fatal infection. Emily, Aubrey, Beca and Chloe were the only Bellas left alive.

"I've always hated October, but dude... This one's been by far the most hateful... Oh, I brought this in case you were wanting to cup under it?" Beca asked, as she began unfurling a blanket.

"Mmm" Chloe nodded in response. Once they were covered by the blanket, both women looked at each other and shared a smile.

"It only takes me a couple of seconds to forget all of this apocalypse situation by looking into these bright blue eyes of yours, you know that?" Beca said, smiling broadly at Chloe, who was doing the same. The redhead's response came as a kiss on her best friend's lips, who brought her left arm around Chloe's shoulders to brought her closer.

"Yeah, this apocalypse totes sucks" said Chloe, as soon as their kiss broke. Both women rested their foreheads against each other's for a while.

"Come here" Beca whispered tenderly, leaning Chloe towards her; who resumed her position and placed her head back over Beca's left shoulder -the redhead's right arm around the brunette's waist.

"Look at these things... Rotten inside and out... Who would ever want to live like that?" Chloe asked, rhetorically, after a minutes of silence.

"I know. I still have their faces on my mind... I-I just can't un-picture them. It isn't fair that some of us get to live and some of us have to live like... that..." Beca said, pointing to the sleepy-walking corpses. "It isn't fair that we have to keep watching our friends die and then kill them by droving something into their brains, and keep seeing their rotten faces, and keep dreaming about it... It's-"

"-exhaustingly raw, I know. But none of this is fair. It's not fair we have to keep living like this. As if none of us had these tremendous burdens to bear, such as knowing only two of our friends are left alive... Nothing of this is fair at all. To none of us".

"Dude, how did we get used to all of this? Losing friends, losing a part of ourselves every time we had to watch them die... I've never been the crying type, but I feel like I got no tears left to cry. It's... weird".

"I was thinking about that just when you came up here... I guess it's due to how things are now. This world... Everything's rotten, everything's... There's no hope left. We can't think about anything nice nor nicer, because-"

"-nothing is" Beca mumbled with a shadow in her voice.

"Every day is a repetition of yesterday. We keep circling around. On an endless loop. But hey, we gotta keep trying, Bec".

"Keep moving, keep surviving. Yeah, I know the deal. It's just difficult".

"We're gonna stand up at some point, you'll see. We got Emily and Aubrey. And... we got us" Chloe said, as she squeezed Beca by her waist.

"What I see is how this shitty apocalypse is making you braver, tougher and stronger" now was Beca the one who squeezed Chloe's shoulders.

"Oh, but someone had already taught me how to be that strong through the years..." Chloe winked while looking into Beca's eyes.

"You mean Aubrey?".

"Oh, totes!" Chloe joked, and she and Beca chuckled -they'd been keep treasuring these rare, unique and intimate moments for themselves only; the only thing it keep them from falling apart with the world. Then, both women leant into each other and shared a soft, intimate kiss. Once the kiss came to a natural end, they both stared deeply at each other's eyes -getting lost into them, smiling broadly to one another.

"I'd have fallen apart months ago if we weren't... You know..." Beca then whispered.

"I also thought about that, you know? When you found me here I was just thinking about the things we all lost, but also... This had me thinking about the things we have now. Our now. Us. I mean, it probably is the highest price to pay for us to finally be together but I-I'm happy?".

"I'm happy too, Chlo -if we are even allowed to say that... Good thing we stayed up that night, huh?".

"Definitely. I mean, don't misunderstand me. I'm really happy Aubrey and Emily are here with us, and you know that I'd do anything to bring back all the Bellas that couldn't make it, but the truth is I-I-"

"-just need you" Beca and Chloe both said in unison. They kept smiling as they remained in silence for a while, until Chloe broke the ice.

"You remember what you said to me that night? When we first heard about the outbreak?".

"Every single one of them, but which one are you referring to?".

"The one about everyone's need to have an anchor? Which was pretty cute, honestly".

"Ooh. That one, yeah..." Beca blushed a little.

"You're sooooo cute when you blush. What I meant earlier is you were right. Everyone needs an anchor, especially in a post-apocalyptic shitty world. I know that now, 'cause I also know I'd rather turn into one of those things than be alone out here. Without you".

"Aw, Chlo. Be careful, 'cause if my heart explodes I'll be the one who turns into one of those things...".

"Oh, shut up".

"You're right, though. No one who's alone in this would ever survive, because what's the point in surviving if you're just surviving alone. Right?".

Beca and Chloe, then, hugged one another and resumed their positions so they were all cuddled up under the blanket, holding one another into the cold autumn morning while the sun was setting. They faced the horizon ahead of them, looking through the city they once considered their home. Looking at the unknown that lied ahead and beyond -hoping for a new normal; wishing, maybe, for some kind of a new hope.

[3rdyearstuff]

Transcription - Crit Week 10

Pollution vibes, one balloon adds up to the ocean, looks like water

Looks like a chair, a throne, symbolic connection with the long string to the balloon

Carrying this huge body of mass, us trying to fix the problem, something as large as the problem as that, materials that you would use once and throw away,

Guest: Aquatic or tragic commentary on environment or oceans balance or weight, absurdity

Of the single balloon, carrying a burden, balloon in the art context has a tension

May pop at anytime, fragile, a lot of elements that you wouldn’t want to see in landfill or ocean, aquatic element because of , jellyfish like tendrils or bubbles airbubbles or something, element of capture, sneared in something related to where we are headed to environmentally, environmental commentary

The grey tones bluey grey brings forward negative conitations versus if it was a delicate light blue you’d see on the oceans, contrast to balloon to the celebatory … people release balloons and they end up in the ocean,

Did you use the floor paint? Me: Yip.

My question is if this about pollution, what are you going to do with it afterwards?  Me: its not about pollution

Guest: there is a clear lack of natural materials, very synthetic, the string for the balloon could have easily been the natural element maybe hemp rope

Raul: In terms of the sculpture its not hiding the way its being made its not concealing the ways its been constructed and its not creating a heirachy of the materials – normally you use chiken wire and then plaster and then that just becomes the structural material and it is the secondhand material and in heirachy would not be the most important one where as here all of these materials are coming together equally, one is not privileged over another, also you are using a lot of everyday materials within the scultpture ehich makes it feels like its happened almost immediately with this construction of materials.

Is there a title?

Me: Imagining whenua

The bubble stuff reminds me of the stuff you put over tables for a kids birthday party and the balloon adds to that. It has a sort of veil like quality

Raul: Does it have like the structure of an alter? Like an offering, does it feel like that?

Kind of like the game of thrones, because of the cavity.  Maybe like a nursery crib like the covering.  If its meant to be a chair or a throne then there is a paradie to it

I wouldn’t say parady, I think with the title it definitely more like connectivity…

Me: I did wonder whether people thought this was some kind of potty

Its definitely set like, small set like, it’s the size of someones head so it could be like a place to rest your head,

Raul: do you want to tell us a little bit about whenua?

Me: So I’ve been working with some ideas, so this (sculpture( is a new thing, and I’m moving along a path, and the next thing might be a painting and not this, I was adopted at birth between two iwi but at a time of nz law called closed stranger adoption or complete break law so that meant that both families didn’t know anything about where the child went or where the child came from so I grew up knowing that I didn’t know where I belonged … and (maori tradition) when you are born the placenta is put back into the whenua, so the whole is where the placenta would go, I’ve had to imagine all of this as it wasn’t until I was an adult that I knew where my iwi and land is which is really far away, I have no (lived) relationship to it really at all, really a sort of diaspora, as an adopted child you have imagined where you are from. Even the relationship to the land, it’s a really different setting to where I grew up.

I need to go there and just be there and form that relationship, this year, this is for my children too to provide them with answers and connection.

I’m just thinking through with these materials and I know that it does look like a dump of waste and sometimes that actually feels like that. The balloon is there for the birth thing, celecbrating a birth but also should have slumped by now, but it hasn’t, I had calculated the time for it to slump but it hasn’t, I was wanting it to be more depressed looking and not so erect.  It’s a process and I’m working through a very personal process that I’m working through here, its not exhibition material.

Someone said:  It reminds me of like scifi like your lands alien to you so you are making an artificial land.

Me: yeah, making it up as I go

Raul: What is the concave space that you made their

Me: Last thing I made was an actual placenta, a blood less placenta, so this sculpture was the setting for it to gointo and then I realized it needed not to go in there

Raul: so in a way it was like an offering

Me: uyeah to put it back

Raul: I’m curious about your selection of materials – yoga mat, chicken wire, plastic shower curtain?, paper and paint

Me: I work with whats around me and I wanted the floor paint to be the land and I covered it up with plastic and then I disrupted it all by cutting into it and cutting back and changing the layers up, just because my fantasy about the land isn’t true so I was disrupting that,

Hannah: also like commentary on your loss and disconnection

Me: mmm its very haptic, stabbing marks, some controlled ripping and other stabbing,

Hannah: its quite a violent  

Me: when this topic is written about – it’s talked about as a violence on children (though different to aboriginal children who were actually stolen), but in our culture you should remain in your own iwi. Clear plastic is about the in-betweeness of  two iwi, no relationship to my blood iwi (as a whole) but a rich relationship with the family I’ve been brought up with but I can’t do anything “important”within the iwi as I’m not blood. I can’t register with the iwi, so I can’t be named as part of them, so I can’t claim (not that I want to) land, I’m landless, there a lot of issues surrounding (maori) adoption that people are not aware of in this country, there are 10’s of thousands of maori affected

Raul: atleast in that sense the materials do a kind of inbetween, the yoga mat inbetween, the plastic on the table is protecting and is inbetween, perhaps that’s something I can continue working on, selection of inbetween materials, …

Chicken wire keeps something in and something out Raul: yeah there is a common them in these materials

Hannah (now a bit emotional): it just make me feel really sad when I look at it, you’ve got that bassenet drape, a baby discocering the world

Labour of making it is very clear, you mentioned hacking, cutting or stabbing, almost like a weaving labourious sort of physical process

Guest: Writing  this while observing our kittens chasing its own tale, why, to learn to balance, to be aware,slippery, dabs and claws only momentary purchase, fleeting success, labourious sort of physical process that I think comes across clearing.

Raul: traversing the inbetween material, you literally want to break through it

Guest: physicality

Sarah: I imagine it sort of floating hovering above the earth – the land being carried, no real place,

Me: Media articles use those words: floating, invisibility, … while I was fortunate to have an awesome family, and I now my birth family to a degree, others weren’t and some maori were adopted into pakeha familys so they lost the cultural as well, all these layers and different and diverse experiences.  Theres a lot of shame about this and so its not spoken of …I presented in my formative the placenta in a shoe box because… what do I do with it?

Raul: Well I think there is a lot to go on interms of material selection, the inbetwwen, not necessarily being grounded somewhere, a lot of good metaphorical connection with the materials hat Ive selected that link with the idea, its just a question of how do you arrange them? how do you kind of address those issues with those materials?

Me: I think the plastic (sheeting) is deceiving for people (viewers) so I need to do something about that.

Hannah: not necessarily to be honest, there are a lot ofaudience is pakeha at Massey because our whole issue is ecology because pakeha fucked it up. But for maori its very different connection and different perception of worldly traumas and its up to us to educate ourselves on not for you to change materials or anything for the sake of appeasing people who don’t understand that narrative

[bulgariansumo]

Galactimato Big Brother Week 3

<<Week 1 | < Week 2 | Week 4>

Week 3 begins with yet another vacancy, this time evicted by America through Emil. Things didn't go too smoothly, however, as his plans may have been seen by another houseguest! How long will he be able to keep his secrets? Is he running out of time?

Now that everyone has had a few weeks to get to know each other, they were asked one simple question: Who would they evict out of anyone in the house? Most were too nice to give an answer, but some did respond.

--

"Higgy." Tsuki tapped her cheek. "I don't like the way he works Nicky and Toni to death with those dance rehearsals."

"The older Konno is too," Lorenzo tried to find the word, "...rowdy for my liking."

"Higgy!" Maxy answered without hesitation. "Someone needs to knock him off his high horse! At least Mai is fun about it."

Higgy tilted his nose up. "Maxy is a nuisance."

"It's nice to have friends here." "Angelo started. I-I even made a new one! Somehow. But it's hard to s-s--to spend time together... It's selfish, but everyone I'd vote off is close to them in some way. Or America's Player. Th-They could be really bad for my friends' chances. I th-thh--I might I know who it is..."

--

Those cryptic words may spell trouble for Emil, but the next segment spells HoH. It's time for the Head of Household Competition!

--

"I don't have many rules." Jun stated upon winning. "Just, like, keep the vibes chill, okay?"

--

Were the vibes chill? Before we head to the Nomination Ceremony, let's see what some of the houseguests have to say!

--

"It's nice! Higgy's practice is a little rough, but that's normal. The star rangers are nice. Emil and Roxie have poofy hair and hearts. We are friends~" Nicky pointed at the camera. "And you're here too."

"The viewers or...?" asked Kenji.

Nicky smiled.

"I think he's dehydrated."

"I swear Higgy has his band brainwashed." Tsuki shook her head. "Toni especially. Poor thing's practically on a leash!"

"Everyone thinks Higgy-senpai is mean. He is," Toni admitted, "but he protects me from Maxy! And listens to me! Sometimes."

"I don't like that kid trying to cling to Toni. Jun too." Mai sneered. "He's weird. I heard him begging for that freckle chart when Toni was tossing it out because 'I didn't get a chance to vote for you!'" She mimicked Angelo's pitiful face. "Gimme a break! I swear he woulda dug in the trash if Emil wasn't there."

"I've been hanging out a lot with Emil and Maxy lately and hadn't realized how much I ignored Angie." Leon glanced away. "But Emil's been getting him to tag along! He's so welcoming like that~! Also, I swore I saw a leg in the garbage can last night. Might be my imagination."

"I'm worried about Mai." mused Jun. "She says wild stuff and doesn't, like, have guidance. I've been trying to help out. Angelo hovers around, but I guess he's too shy to interrupt. I worry about him too. Y'know how it is, yeah?" They asked Kenji.

"Please don't acknowledge me."

"Lorie asked me about voting off Mia." Emil began. "I forgot her family was struggling financially, so that's what I told him. Feel kinda bad though." He paused. "But what I do remember is that Jun knows how to check fingerprints. I've been keeping an eye on Ange so he doesn't get his hands on the chart again." He winked. "I think he's worried about Leon, Roxie, and Toni, but I can't see America voting them out. I tried telling him that. Subtly. 'Siiiides, we took the trash out yesterday afternoon."

"It's been nice being with the others, even th--even though I know what Emil's doing. I-I don't have anything against him, and it's kinda s-silly but," Angelo pulled a crumpled, stained paper from his coat, "I trust myself over America. S-s--I'm sorry."

--

It appears Emil has underestimated how far Angelo will go to protect his friends. But can he protect them from the veto ceremony? Let's find out!

--

"Thanks for a really chill week, you guys." Jun started. "I'd rather not nominate anyone, but two of you did kinda harsh the vibe. Higgy, Maxy, step into the nomination zone."

They did so, glaring at each other all the way.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't mess with my rehearsals." Higgy muttered.

"Well you shouldn'ta had 'em near my bird-calling spot!"

"What kind of birds make fart sounds??"

"Hey! Don't blame your butt problems on the birds!"

Higgy seethed. "I have ways to make you live in regret."

"Hey, hey." Jun interrupted. "Let's let the eviction votes settle this, assuming neither of you get vetoed."

"Fine." conceded Higgy. "But if he somehow survives, mark my words, I will evict Maxy Konno with my own hands."

"Not if I get rid of you first." Maxy flashed his fangs.

"Oooooh, spicy!" Benji's gold tooth twinkled as he smiled. "Will the flames of rivalry be put out by eviction, or will they burn a little longer? Stick around for the veto competition to find out!"

"I didn't even do anything to get Higgy nominated!" Emil recounted from the interview room at some unspecified point in the future. "I was too busy dealing with Angelo and forgot!" He laughed.

For the PoV Competition, it's time to get schooled ...Again?

--

"Is it a good idea to reuse a challenge in the same week?" asked Kenji.

"Reuse sounds so cheap, call it a 'redux!" Benji corrected. "Plus, I'd rather not build anymore sets until we have more hands on deck."

"I understand."

--

Jun, Maxy, and Higgy, along with Roxie, Nicky, and Tsuki, play Getting Schooled again for the Power of Veto. Maxy wins! Onto the Veto Ceremony!

--

"Should I use this now or wait until we explain ourselves or whatever?" Maxy waved his PoV around.

"Why waste our time? Just use it." Higgy ordered.

"Thought I was the host, but okay!" Benji raised his eyebrows. "Why don'tcha use your veto?"

"I veto myself! ...Again~" Maxy gave a dirt-eating grin to Higgy and Toni as he returned to the group.

Jun seemed at a loss. "Uhh. Shoot. I dunno who else to pick."

"Excuse me?" Angelo raised a hand.

"A volunteer~" announced Benji.

"No no no! I-I just wanted t-t-to know if you could check this for prints?"Angelo lifted the freckles chart.

"Did you get that from the dumpster??" Emil blurted out.

"I'd be interested in it." Jun answered Angelo's question. "But I don't, like, have everyone's prints on hand for comparison. And now's kind of a bad time."

"S-Sorry..." Angelo looked down.

"It's cool!" They reassured. "Tell you what, give me a name and I'll check that person's fingerprints after the eviction, 'k?"

"Right now?"

"Ch'yeah~"

"In front of everyone?"

"I'd let you whisper, but... you seem to have a situation going on." Jun gestured to his trashy clothes.

"Th-That's okay." Angelo declined.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well. You helped me with one thing at least." Jun told him.

"What's that?"

"Picking a replacement. Angelo, step into the zone."

"Wh-what?" His eyes widened in shock.

"No one knows who put up the chart but you and the culprit." Jun smirked. "Could be the same person. You have the perfect moment to name them and you won't?" They went on. "Sounds suspicious to me. Sounds like something America's Player would do to throw us off."

"What?? No, I'm not them!" he insisted.

"That's something America's Player would say!" accused Maxy.

"I-I'm not! I'm really not!"

"Leave him alone!" Toni defended.

"Didn't you throw it out?" Mai recalled. "He could've been tryin' to frame you."

"Angelo wouldn't do that," Toni turned to his friend, "would you...?"

"No." Angelo was on the verge of tears, wounded by the accusation. "Of course not!"

"We don't know if he did it." Jun reminded, looking a little mortified, just as Emil did. "But just to be on the safe side, he's the replacement."

--

Angelo set out to reveal the truth but one hesitation landed him in hot water with his fellow contestants. Where will the votes fall, and who will America choose as its next target?

While Higgy was no Mr. Popularity, Angelo proved to be too big of a threat to Emil for America to allow him a continued existence at the household. How did the houseguests handle this decision?

--

"The younger Summers has schemed once." reminisced Lorenzo."He could be doing so again."

"I'll make sure Toni's safe." Mai nodded, folding her arms.

Maxy threw his hands up"I don't care if the other kid's America's Player, Higgy's goin' down!"

"Do I really have to explain my vote?" Leon smiled nervously. "Angie's my little brother!"

"So Emil," Benji began, "what do you have to say to uhh, that?"

"What can I say?" Emil shook his head. "He had to go, but... that was brutal. He could've ratted me out at any moment, but he didn't. I feel like I need to say something to him."

"You'll get your chance."

--

Angelo became yet another falling star from the Celestion-5's sky, following Aiden and Mia. How many more will follow him? At least four more, but only time will tell. As for now, it seems like Emil isn't the only one who has something to say to him.

--

"Hey." Jun leaned in the doorway as Angelo, clean and freshly dressed, packed his bags.

"Hello."

They sighed. "Shoulda picked my words more carefully. I got so wrapped up in my theory, I started a witch hunt. I didn't mean to, but I did, and for that I'm so sorry."

Angelo stopped packing "Thank you Jun. Th-That means a lot to me." He held up the chart. "Do you still want this?"

"Sure, it's the least I can do." Jun's smile melted into a frown as they took it in their hands. "It's soaked."

"S-Sorry, I know it's gross." He apologized. "It got stained in the garbage and my hands were s-sweaty, so that didn't help."

They gave a pitied smile. "It's not your fault. But I can't take prints from this. Not by normal means."

"Oh..."

"You know what? It's better that way." Angelo almost said something, but stopped. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Benji stood in front of the house with Angelo. "Well. That was kind of a rough ceremony, huh? How're ya feelin'?"

"A little sad I have to leave." admitted Angelo. "But if th-th--if I helped the others s-survive, I'm happy. I just hope no one's too mad at me."

"Welp, these three aren't!" Benji extended an arm to the side. "You can come out now!"

Leon exited first and gave his brother a hug. "I'll miss you, buddy."

"I'll miss you a lot too..."

He gave another hug. "That one's for Roxie!"

"She's not here...?" Angelo seemed a little hurt.

"She would be if she could! But someone else wanted to show up even more."

Toni barreled around the corner and into Angelo for a hug, stunning him.

"T-Toni? But you--"

"I didn't vote against you because I thought you lied!" Toni blurted, holding Angelo's hands. "I did so Higgy wouldn't be mad at me. I really like you! I'm sorry!!"

"It's okay. I...I like you too!" Angelo happily teared up. "I hope I can see you again someday."

"Toni, it's time for rehearsal!" Higgy's voice called.

Toni looked at his shoes. "Sorry, but I have to go now."

He turned to walk away, turned back, and gave Angelo one last hug before running off.

Emil was the last to exit. "Hey, Ange."

"Emil...?"

"Yeah, he wanted to say goodbye!" Leon explained to his brother's shock.

"Plus I had something to tell you!" added Emil. "A secret!"

"Oh?"

Emil stooped down to whisper to him.

Angelo smiled and giggled. "I have something for you too."

He whispered something in Emil's ear. The latter stood back up and nodded.

"Of course. I'll try! And one last thing!" Emil gave Angelo a hearty hug. "Stay strong out there, okay? We're rooting for ya!" He winked.

"And don't try to sneak back into the house!" Leon warned. "We'll miss you, but don't do any crimes!"

Angelo laughed. "I'll do my best!"

[prasenna]

Hello, Anxiety

Oh Anxiety, you old friend, you sly devil, you cheeky bastard! Never want to let me go, do you? When I first met you around 2 years ago, I instantly had butterflies in my stomach. It felt like a match made in heaven given my inimitable talent to overthink. We were destined to be together!

“How was your 2 week vacation to India?” asked a colleague. “Oh nothing big except that I met someone, fell in love, made plans for our future, agreed to marry each other, only to get dumped the very next day, and spend the remaining days trying really hard to move on. That’s all. No biggie”

Fuck you, anxiety!

I finally find someone interesting, who actually likes me back to the point of spending the rest of their lives with me and my anxiety just had to act up like a jealous bitch! 

Arranged marriages in India are something of an enigma. You are given very little time, say a couple of hours if you’re lucky, to decide if you would like to start a family with them. Yup. No pressure at all. The overwhelming wisdom I received was to check for “good vibes” and for any potential red-flags. That’s about it. Vibe your way into the life of someone who’s not a serial-killer is the plot that’s fueling this entire country onto becoming the world’s largest population - and it’s worked so far. The best one could hope for was to extend the assessment period from hours to days, and that’s what I did.

Look at all the women interested in me! Look at all the parents of women interested in my career accomplishments! is how I began on the app after my bro-in-law created a profile for me citing a not-so-polite reminder of my age. Since nearly all of them are created/managed by parents, you see the same description copy/pasted “upper-middle class, nuclear family with traditional values” which is cool and all but I’m not really here for your family’s values. You wade through the profiles to find one that interests you and wait for your family’s green signal to go ahead and start chatting away. 

I found someone and got the green light to go ahead from my family but so did my anxiety. When it was time to talk to her “Don’t” was the strong voice that kept resonating within me, along with the elevated heart rate. I’ve never felt something so strong within me to stop me from doing something that posed zero-risk. I called up my mom twice to let her know how I’m feeling but she didn’t pick up.

Screw this gut feeling. Override it with rational thoughts.

And override I did, for 4 hours, as I spoke over the phone with her non-stop about how poor a prospect I am to start a life with. That gut feeling seemed to sort of vanish when I was done at 5 am my time.

Rise and shine the next day.

Say no to her! Reject her!, whispered the voice again

Oh god no! Not again. Why? I can’t think of one good reason to reject her. What is this stupid, annoying feeling? Am I a commitment-phobe? Surely not. I’ve been in a relationship where I wanted to take it to the next level, if not for her dad. So, then, why was I afraid? What was I afraid of?

Evening rolls around, and, oh look, I am not nervous anymore! Yay! That’s good, even if it’s strange. Really strange.

Rinse and Repeat. Every. Single. Day.

I felt communicating my fears about that person, to that person, would help clear things off my mind. Finding solutions have always seemed to relive my stress. And so I did.

This went on for 3 days before my planned vacation to India.

I land in India, finish my office work, start my vacation, and start thinking.

I’ve only got 2 weeks in India to sort out all possible issues so I better start thinking quick. Yup, I just asked my, usually overthinking brain, to overthink some more while I was going through anxiety. Splendid idea!

Her sense of humor doesn’t really click with me much. Could that be an issue?

She seems too nice. I rejected a girl once for precisely that reason. Maybe accepting this girl might prick my guilt forever?

This will be a long-distance relationship for months. Can I do that, given my general reservedness and not bore the other person?

I’m barely holding myself together in the US, if not for the friends around me there. With her, we’ll move into a new house all by ourselves. I’m wholly responsible for this person. I can’t afford to slip up anywhere. Shit. Shit. Shit.

How will she work? She can’t simply stay home! I don’t want her to! I’ve got to apply for a Green Card but I don’t even have my H1B yet. Should she do her Masters? If so, that’s going be another long-distance. God dammit. How does everyone else do this?

A New day, a new concern. And I would try to talk this out with her, hoping we find a solution, and consequently quell my fears. What I failed to realize was this mounting pile of fears wasn’t helping her gain confidence, and it was in fact back-firing. I figured all of this would go away once I meet her. Maybe the aforementioned “vibe” would help allay all my fears. It did, only for a day.

She said yes! Hooray! But so did my anxieties.

Does she realize how introverted I am? She’s probably going to be disappointed. What if I don’t meet her expectations and struggle to change? I should talk to her about this

And I typed away, one last time, the fears. Little did I know that I was also typing away my marriage.

She freaked out, understandably so, and called it off!

I think I simply needed to hear “Its okay”. How naïve.

C’est la vie

[angocanhha]

i got an hour

before the body is a landscape class, i wonder what the class is going to be like. i feel like i should look for a private spot, maybe the octopus bedroom :) 

i guess this post is for u, for myself, for yourself

but before i dive into that, thanks for being a good friend chi. i appreciate the care and kindness you’ve shared with me during this particularly chaotic and confusing time. what a time indeed. i wish i had approached this time with more care but of course, hindsight is always 20/20 whereas the present is in a lightless room.

you keep checking your phone to see if anyone has texted u. keep checking, keep turning over. it’s been cool not getting notifications but now instead, u check your phone when you’re looking for that brain rush. at first u weren’t getting distracted but now you’re used to it, and now u can see when you’re having a hard time bc that’s when i’m checking my phone.

all i need for happiness, is already in me. all i need for happiness is already in me.

i like talking to you. when i take this moment, it’s as if i’m aware i’m living. i’m aware what color the walls are, that there are walls, that i’m inside a house, and there is a lovely garden outside. i know that my parents are chaos. they are chaos. and i’d like to take some time to process who they are. who are they? 

i get on edge when i hear my dad move throughout the house. i learned from him to be quiet, especially during the morning hours. he’s intentional about that. he speaks in hushed tones and calls other people to also lower the volume in consideration of those sleeping. maybe this is the treatment he appreciates when he is sleeping. but now, maybe when i can hear him move throughout the house, sometimes it’s because he’s not afraid of disturbing others but it’s also his way to announce that he is upset. and that is why i get on edge when i hear him put away the dishes, shut the cabinet and drawers. something is on his mind, he is angry. i don’t do very well w angry ppl. they are scary. my dad throws things. there is a scar in the door when he hammered it at my sister. it’s amazing how my sister and i can just move on from that. it’s amazing that this scar has not been erased from the body of this house. my dad is a generous man, he cooks, he cleans, he communicates, he makes jokes, he sits on the toilet to pee and doesn’t leave the seat up. he is also condescending, but he can be patient. he cares but he also shouts and has been violent in his past. i am thankful that i have not seen him throw anything recently, i have not seen him getting angry. but i feel that distance, it’s like i’m angry at him, i can’t look him in the eyes, it’s hard for me to share my warm smiles with him. this time will pass. when u talk about your dad, chi, it reminds me of the times when i would give him the silent treatment, i think this was in high school, although i’d have to give more time to see if this was post college as well. tangent? eh, maybe later. i didn’t want to talk to him. and i didn’t have to. but i did if i needed to, but other than that i wouldn’t. i guess it wasn’t enough for my parents to kick me out of the house, maybe they knew i would come around. - he just came in, speak of the devil. 

my sister and dad gang up on my mom it seems. when i’m not around, i think it’s hard for her. but i also see that my sister gets into arguments w my mom bc belinda is trying to defend me or speak on behalf. i think, belinda doesn’t need to do that, she can just let it slide, like it do, then they wouldn’t get so angry with each other. but they do. my mom thinks belinda can be disrespectful. i said to belinda that my dad is condescending to our mom and belinda says my mom is also disrespectful of others. i guess belinda’s right, my mom called me fat, that i should lose weight and i pounced on that. sometimes i use it as an excuse not to eat dinner with my mom and my dad. i tell mom matter of factly that i’m missing out on the family dinner she wants so much bc she hurt me, and this is my way of hurting her. i want her to take her words back. having some distance from the original comments, it’s been a couple of weeks, i can see how she was trying to help me. yes, there have been things going on in my life where i have abused food and my body. i just put on the jacket that makes look like a teddy bear. i feel like a teddy bear, i’ve worn this jacket many times but for some reason, i’m really getting the teddy bear vibes rn.

am i on a protest, the do nothing for my life and prove that i’m worth living protest? what an interesting social experiment. zach calls me ngoc anna, and i think it’s brilliant, also awesome. 

my mother. i get the sense of righteousness from her. the want to be healthy (creatively) and imposing these senses of health on other people. she does that. my dad has a sense of health, but not to the level of my mom, i don’t think he imposes that much either. she gets worked up, or at least she did, about his smoking. she indoctrinated my sister and i and now we do that work for her. she still gets into it sometimes. she gets into how my dad should take care of his physical health, not handle heavy things like furniture. she is a boss. i know what she wants bc she makes it known. she’s vocal. she’s very vocal about how ppl should live their life. belinda is living the life that my mom wants her to i guess. belinda’s making money and i guess that’s all my mom cares about at the moment. she was worried about belinda when she was seeing multiple people and also didn’t like when belinda was rock climbing (i’m so angry at the guy who dropped belinda, if i ever see him, i think i might stalk him... or maybe say something to him.) but belinda is not doing those things now. but she doesn’t like how i’m living. she doesn’t like that i’m pursuing film. she doesn’t like that i don’t have a steady stream of income. she makes it known. there is hardly a conversation with her that she doesn’t bring it up. my mom is vocal. 

i wish i didn’t have to hide. my mom says that she’s ok with my queerness and that i don’t have to hide, but at 2021, if i can’t openly disclose my queerness to her acquaintances, that’s hiding to me. it’s sad for me to hide, it’s sad for me to feel embarrassed for my parents. to know that in order to alleviate their suffering, i would have to take myself out of the picture. i’m sad that it’s not me and my parents as a team, it’s me against them and their contacts. it’s sad, i wonder why my mom didn’t want me to pick her up in front of her workplace a couple of weeks ago. i summed it up to me having very short bleached and dyed hair. it shows me, and i already knew, what my mom thinks of people who look like me. i remember their discomfort when i brought them to the qtviet cafe show. my parents weren’t ready. it was a learning experience to see the community that i’ve grown with through their eyes. it’s like we were aliens, that we had a terrible sickness that they didn’t want near them. 

my parents don’t feel comfortable in queer spaces. and that’s sad. there is a part of me that they tolerate but don’t love. i think about the times where i accompany my mom to the temple or my dad to his old people vietnamese clubs, i see their world, i meet their friends and peers. i do my best to make them proud that their kid, their daughter is presentable, and loves them, supports them, wants to be there for them. i know it’s not a competition or a comparison, i know that everyone is one their own journey. it’s just, when i take this time to reflect, i am looking at where we are. i’m thankful for the love my parents share for me, i am. i guess that makes me feel better. but i am also hopeful, that by chance, a miracle could happen, and they can love me more, they can grow more than they already have. that future, that world seems glorious, it seems really nice. i can imagine tears coming to my eyes. 

i guess nowadays, sometimes i think about giving up. i think about, maybe not only do i not have to fight for queerness, maybe i can choose the straight lifestyle. i know it’s not exactly a choice, but it seems like all the hardships i’ve been through, i can just let go of that. it’s a fun option to peruse around in. i’m not going to do it, i don’t think. i’ve been saying, that the only way i’m going to fall in love w a cis male is if he is more of a feminist than me. and i guess i haven’t been around in those circles enough to meet someone like that. we’ll see if that’s in my destiny, i certainly won’t hold my breath. 

i’m getting a little nervous about this class. it’s coming up in about 10 minutes. hopefully i can also hold to the fast today. i didn’t yesterday, so many snacks, so many thoughts of, let me ‘hurt’ myself and eat this. i felt a little hopeless. i was overstimulated. how can the love of my parents be nourishing but also overwhelming? sometimes i am sad when i see their bodies, how much they’ve put themselves through, where they came from, the mindset they have. are they free? are they in pain? i feel like they have more sexist mindsets than me, but am i more free than them? i guess this is the struggle. i’m glad they’re both here though. and as much as i worry and fear, they are alive, they are breathing, and i do believe, they are well. 

i love u my dude. i know u worry about other ppl a lot. i know that u spread yourself thin and u don’t even realize. i know we’re working on centering ourselves and just being. we’re trying to reach enlightenment. we are trying to be a rock. we are trying to figure out why the sight of our dad annoys us and to resolve that. i’m proud of u, i love u, i think you’re a revolutionary artist. i think you’re insightful and i think you’re one of the most beautiful people i have ever laid my eyes on. i love u deeply dude, and i think the best thing about that is that we know this to be true forever. we trust each other don’t we, because we are ourselves. fuck the rest, we the best, bb. u can let go, bc i got u, we will take turns taking care of each other. it’s a lot sometimes, but i hope we will prioritize each other. ngoc anh and anna, is it possible to develop and get lost in multiple personalities? would i do it if i was guaranteed to be happy? is there ever a guarantee? let’s take each other’s hand and see the beauty of this world, bc isn’t that what we want life to be? can’t we be our own best option, dream life, forever on cloud nine? 

we’re gonna face this class and just flow dude. forget all the worries of others. we’re just gonna be here and we’re gonna have fun. 

thanks for dropping by, i’ll see u again soon. and we shall conquer in time. it could be tomorrow (o you’d love that) or it could be in ten years, bottom line, we just gotta love each other. that’s all we gotta do. we’ll be ok babe. we’ll be ok. 

[reading-writing-revolution]

Winning at Social Media Politics

SJ STONE

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2020

·READING TIME: 8 MINUTES

Over the years, and especially in this toxic sort of online environment rife with trolls and angry bickering, we've seen friends and family (and even ourselves) engage in more and more political arguments online, most all of which we can agree are a momentous waste of time to the point that it's been making the rounds for years now that you can't win a political argument online and there's no point in trying. Instead, what so many have done is to shut off the flow of negativity by taking oneself out of the equation, either by avoiding confrontation on social media and/or by muting (unfollowing) social media "friends" or unfriending them altogether. One would say that this is not productive, and yet the peace of mind that comes with it is lovely. So, what's the solution when one way is toxic and the other so limiting?

I bumped into a few different ideas lately that have helped me change my own approach, and so I thought I would discuss that here - how we can make simple changes to our own "rules of engagement" and continue to interact and sway opinions online.

I do this (engage online) and talk about this here because now more than ever it is critical, in my opinion, that we must engage - continually, with purpose and clarity, and with the understanding that sitting the political "war of ideas" out is just as unproductive and dangerously apathetic as not voting. Those who have chosen to just sit quietly at home with their cats and their shows rather than contribute to the political process in the United States of America are betraying themselves and everyone else - sorry, but everything happening around you is political and is important because of the horrors that we are confronted with. Only politics will solve them, and we each have a responsibility as a citizen and human being to contribute to a better world.

So, back to the main thrust here - as I've already mentioned that we should all be involved and engaged. And you CAN contribute to the solutions through your interactions on social media, and do so in a positive and productive way, even in dealing with the endless trolls and other assholes out there, if you are careful in your approach. Here are my 3 easy rules to getting there, going from easiest to hardest:

1. Do not go on any friend's social media page and shit on their political views. That is their space. Leave it to them. If you want to agree with them or offer a perspective and add to the conversation, go for it. You know them. Engage, but don't show up and tell them they are dumb.

2. When you venture out to comment on a news site's post, where you will encounter the entire planet, don't attack there either. It's not worth your time, and if you do, you're just becoming another internet troll that makes engagement, interaction and problem solving impossible. Make your own comment and let people come to you.

Now, you might think, "Well, that's where I'm fucked, and someone's going to roll up and be an asshole no matter what I say." Yes and no.

Because there's a 'yes' option, let's address it.

I get lots of trolls because I make a lot of comments. I take two approaches - I engage if I feel like bothering, and when I do engage with that person, I stick to the points I made. I do not attack back. If the person is a dick, I first go to their profile and see if they seem to be an actual person or not, and if they are clearly a troll, I just call them out as a troll in my reply and let it go. If they are really nasty, I may engage by congratulating them on the truly awful things they've just said; that shuts every asshole down every time. "Wow, bud, that was the most amazing totally dick thing I've ever heard anyone say. 5 stars! You should get a trophy for that. You can put it on your mantle and show your family and friends." Yep, you'll never hear from that person again, and if anyone else is interacting, they will love what you said and probably hammer that asshole. That's a win. Otherwise, I don't engage because I said what I wanted to say in my comment, and that's enough for me. I'm there to express myself, not be a punching bag or make friends.

There's also a 'no' option here, and if no one rolls up and trolls you, then no worries. Or, if people comment and discuss in a kindly manner, engage or not. It's up to you.

3. And this is where I talk about the approach I think you should make to avoid a lot of trolls and to contribute to the conversation in a way that isn't divisive and could contribute to more people being engaged. I get tons of likes with this approach and very few trolls, and you can, too.

a. Again, don't attack. Starting your comment off with "Trump is a dick" is not going to get you anywhere, even if it feels good to do it. It does, and sometimes it's difficult to not say that. Instead, consider the point you are trying to make and focus on that and engage any readers by asking a question to wrap it up. And avoid, above all, whataboutism. No one wants to hear how Obama would or wouldn't have done that, or Reagan did it, too. Call out the misbehavior, or the good behavior, on its own merits and focus on the principles.

One of the biggest things out there is whataboutism, and people will say "but XYZ did it, too" or "what about ABC?" Well, I say, if it's wrong now, it was wrong then. Can you agree it's wrong? That usually shuts all the "whataboutism" people the fuck up. They didn't want to discuss the issue, just shit on someone. But either way, talk about the issue at hand as much as you can, not the people doing it so much.

If we're talking about whistleblowers, no matter what the issue is, focus on the value of whistleblowers in a neutral way to remind people of all the good things they do and why they are so important: they help prevent cheating, fraud, cover-ups, lawbreaking, etc., and they are valuable to every organization because they protect workers, shareholders, investors, and especially taxpayers, and they save everyone money and resources that would otherwise we stolen by the corrupt people exposed. Whistleblowers are acting honorably and with integrity - aren't these traits that we need more of in our society? Whistleblowers get nothing out of  exposing corruption; if anything, they put themselves in danger and demonstrate courage, another trait that we need to see more of. Whistleblowers are everyday Americans, not affiliated with a political party or a race, color or creed. They are just people trying to do the right thing, so they should be respected and protected and appreciated.

b. Talk about concepts, traits and characteristics as they apply to the topic at hand. I find myself talking more and more about the value of honesty, integrity, compassion, courage as well as the blight of cowardice, dishonesty, fraud, and corruption. Talk about the principles and values that all Americans share and honor when you're pointing out this or that. Talk about how your were brought up, or link it to values in religion or the values of the Founding Fathers. Give examples.

When Trump says something shitty about a Black person or a woman, don't just say he's an asshole - we all know he's an asshole and he doesn't give a fuck about anyone. Don't even mention Trump; just talk about how the person being disparaged is an American citizen, a taxpayer, a human being, someone that should be respected as a person in our society, a person that did this or that. That person is someone's friend, brother, sister, mother, daughter, father, best bud, roommate, your son's teacher, a fireman. Remind folks that people are people, not just things or numbers or statistics. (Sadly, I think a lot of people need to be reminded of this.) Disparaging them is shitty, maybe racist or misogynistic or both, depending on what's happening. Talk about how this sort of behavior is not honorable or worthy of the office of the President, the person who represents the United States, or a sitting Senator or a television host. Note that you would be appalled by that behavior if your son or daughter or father or mother acted that way. Remind people what our societal norms are and what kind of behavior is acceptable and unacceptable. You don't have to mention Trump at all. Ask people to remember what it means to be kind. It’s refreshing to read about, talk about the value of kindness, the clarity of honesty, the security of trust. Hand out those good vibes and let everyone bask for a moment in that good feeling of better times. 

I think you'll find that people will respond mostly positively to what you say if you don't make yourself a target (by being shitty) and if you espouse ideas that most everyone can agree with. For those people who have slowly, surely allowed themselves and their principles to be corrupted by Trumpism, this approach, IMHO, offers a way back to the principles that they didn't realize they were no longer supporting, and you are helping them remember what trust and compassion are. All you're doing is talking about those ideals that supposedly we all hold/held dear as people, as Americans, as taxpayers, as human beings. Some of us out there have lost our way, and I think that if we engage in a non-threatening way and espouse that positive traits of a cohesive, compassionate society, we can pull some people out of the flames of hate and also encourage and embolden some of the quiet people to speak up and become part of the movement.

So, no, you cannot win a political argument on social media, so stop arguing. There are better ways to do this.

[chasingarmie]

Hello. 2017 was my “re-boot” year as I like to call it. I’ve grown a lot privately and quietly. I had scenes worthy of a three-minute standing ovation, but they are mostly mundane ones deserving a personal recognition of none other than myself. I see life through a more beautiful lens now. Change has transpired all throughout the year, but I’ve never been so glad that it did. This is a post on how 2017 changed me in ways that left me equally awed and grateful; and to 2018 me, hey, we’re gonna make this story legendary. 

2017

I told myself that I want to be someone “normal” this year. 

I hope you won’t crucify me for this but I felt like I was on a roll during my junior- senior high school years. Although I don’t usually like to talk about it but in all humility, I joined a lot of contests during those times, won a whole bunch of them and also lost a whole lot more. Some people don’t know about this because I like to keep my achievements in private and share the victory with my own little circle. I bagged awards in various fields, it came to a point where I won recognition in the Regional, National, and even International sphere. I earned seats in major organizations and had a chance to be with the big-shots in the academic arena of the Philippines.

Such a bragger huh, but trust me, that would be the last of my intention. It was necessary for making people understand how I was at a peak of my high-school years. 

You might think that I’m so lucky, but am I really?

SILVER LININGS

I pride myself on being one who doesn’t fear failure. If I remember it correctly it was my “Introduce yourself description” on my first day of class in Grade 11. I told everyone that success is just failure turned inside out, the silver linings in the clouds of doubt. But, I lied.

It’s exhausting to fail over and over again. Of course, it’s vindicating to finally achieve the things that you’ve been working for, but the process it takes you to get there is “consuming” at the very least. I had to cry a lot of times and I spent tears on people who repeatedly threw stones at me claiming that they only want to leave me unscathed and at my very best. It became really stressful for me, and I felt l was alive with rage towards so many people. That was never what I wanted.

It was during those times that I decided to just pause and let go. I wanted to seek genuine happiness and I know deep down in my bones that I had to sacrifice a lot of things, and it includes me being a student on top of multiple awarding ceremonies at once. I wanted to become a student of life.

HUMSS

Paulo Coelho said that once you want something the whole universe conspires to help you reach it. 

Interestingly enough on the road to my mission of redefining my self, I met people who altered my perception on what it is to become “normal”.

You see, at first glance my classmates at HUMSS, seem normal, the low-keys, the ones you don’t see dancing at parties with that popular kids type of swagger vibes. They won’t be the ones leading parades and have loud conversations to make people pay attention. They’re the HUMSS for pete’s sake.

Normal to them is laying on our self-bought banig during lunch and class breaks. Normal to them is taking portraits on a rice-field or on mountains or on grassy places or on pebbled beaches. Normal to them is swearing. Normal to them is laughing at dirty green jokes that only us would dare to laugh at. Normal to them is that, just being themselves. And I loved that.

There are people in our classroom who are nothing short of amazing even when they’re “normal”. (1) I have a friend who’s exceptionally good at drawing, she’s well known for that, but what most people don’t know is that she’s also darn good with words, she reads a LOT of books, she threads them into this intricate pattern of hearty prose and texts. She ones wrote me a letter, a passage she got from a Greek or was that Roman Mythology? She said that she knew that I would love a good read, and boy was she right. It made me think of all the words inside her heart and how beautiful they might be. (2) At the first day of class in Grade 11, I met this girl who showed me how it was like to be strong and soft at the same time. This one fancies wearing dark lipstick and sings to songs that are rapped and has amazing and funny beats. One time, she showed me her collection of poetry, ones that she wrote by herself, it was typed on her old phone. Do you sometimes wonder why people are so fiercely strong? Maybe it was because they were once soft and some nights they were broken and they needed to be strong because if they won’t then who else will. I think that girl is soft both on the inside and on the outside, and stronger. Always stronger. (3) This boy likes Philosophy. He talks about things that almost no one talks about. What you don’t know about this boy tho is that he’s darker than most of us. He thrives on wisdom and knowledge. He is erudite, and he’s constantly hungry for more, more of everything. This is what makes him dangerous. I hope along the way he doesn’t lose himself. I hope he seeks and finds his heart’s truest deepest desires. I hope he lives well, honestly truly completely well.

(4) A girl cried during our Christmas Party. Ironically, she smiled all throughout the day and only cried at the end. I wonder the strength it must have took to hold everything in. Maybe it was the vodka? But I know better, I know that this kid travels almost more than 10 kms. to school every day, and I also know that she helps her family by selling all kinds of snacks, and I also know that she has been through a lot and still, smiles. Maybe the vodka was a good idea. Maybe, sometimes we can just pour everything out, because oh gad who knows what might happen if we don’t. I want her to know that I’m here. In case she wants to pour one more shot of tears. Always here. (5) I waved to this boy on the first day of class and he just stared at me. I hated him that day. I gave this boy a huge sketchpad last year because he is really really really good at drawing. I liked him that day. Then, there are days when he comes to school late. What could he possibly be busy with? Then I remember that he was a Yolanda survivor, and whatever it is that takes up his time I know he’ll survive, I haven’t told him this but I believe in his dreams. I hated him ‘once’ but I liked him all the days after and possible all the years more. (6) I hope this girl breaks her heart. Cruel? Selfish? Yes. How else do we know that we deserve someone better? We deserve the love we need to give to ourselves. I hope she comes out stronger. 

(7) Singing has been her trademark, and I understand that, but I don’t know sometimes I admire her inner voice more. The way she says she’s evil but she has shown me nothing but kindness. People love her you know. People really love her. Some because of her singing, but most is because of her soul. Flaws? I’m pretty sure she has them, I’m certain she has a lot. But, that’s what being normal is right? She is kind, she is loved, and her voice both sung and shown has taught me how singing touches people in more ways than they can imagine. (8) At last, I got to write about this one. I know she’s hurting. Gad she is. There are nights when she confides to me about the pain, about how it’s all wrong, about how she deserves to be treated way way better. And I know that what she’s only trying to say is that she wants to be fought for, that it’s time to be fckng fought for!!!!!!! I want her to know that she’s right, but I also want her to know that she’s wrong. That it’s okay to be fought for and to fight at the same time. I want her to know that I spoke to someone who broke my heart about everything and only then did the waters became clear. FIGHT. You have nothing to lose now, or maybe there is, but FIGHT because you will lose everything if you don’t. We’re strong independent women right. Let’s let them know. If you’re wondering, yes this is the sign.

(9) (10) There are two people who have marveled me during the years. One lost her father at the day of our recognition, and one speaks about hers with endless admiration. These two girls taught me what it’s like to love. To love both in pain and in joy, to love when a person’s here and specially when he’s not. To love. To be a child. To love even more. (11) I jogged with this boy to a cemetery once. We’ve grown closer now. And I never told him this but, sometimes I picture him as a soldier. (12) The first thing you notice about him, is his size. I may be insensitive here but remind me why again? I am extremely proud of my guy here. Lately he’s been advocating against all sorts of injustices from body shaming to calling wattpad a book. Size is the first thing you notice, but just seconds after you notice how he forgets to bring his WiFi with him, and how he looks at you in the eyes when he speaks, and how his laugh resonates in your heart. I said he’s a big guy but maybe the society needs big guys like him to speak for those who feel so little. Maybe it’s a mission, or maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, but whatever it is, I know that he’s a man with a huge heart, one brave and never cowardly. (13) The last one and the first one all at the same time. I hope he realizes how he makes me happy when he says that I’m the reason why he’s addicted to books. I like the way you turn red on the cheeks when we talk or when you laugh. I hope you laugh more.

Old Friends

I’ve drifted away with people who I once thought I could never finish high school without. There’s Pig and Jascha on top of the list. Sometimes I wonder if I’m such a bad friend, maybe I am. May they remember all our memories nonetheless. May they forgive me for forgetting their birthdays and lying about it. Trust me, I am aware of my faults and I am ashamed of it. 

They say burning bridges is okay. But what do you do when the burning was an accident? When you never planned for it to happen, when it just..did. Maybe all I can do is say sorry, but also say thank you. 

I know these people are happier now, they have a new set of friends and smile a whole lot wider. But I have a confession. 

Making me ashamed of how I was finally doing well with HUMSS somehow made me all the more a renegade. I never blamed them when they never bothered to say hi or hello, I never made them uncomfortable with the fact that they have other friends, I was okay with them being all those things. That’s why I don’t understand why it’s not okay for me to be the same. 

At 2017, I fought for someone, hard. I never regretted that night.

Burning bridges can be accidents or not, but one can find solace in the fact that it leads you to new places, one that you never knew you needed.

Debate

I felt less pressured in debates this year, maybe because it’s Brit Parliamentary season.

Family

Truth be told, WiFi has devoured most of our family time. So much, that sometimes I wish we don’t have it at all. I am not the perfect child, nor the perfect sister. I am that bastard who rolls her eyes and I wrestle with my sisters . But, every night all I want is to cuddle with Yanitz and Chim, and hug them when they’re asleep and tell them how much I love them while I still can. Every night my prayers are composed of me praying to God to grant us safety and good health and a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious long life together here on Earth. The very same prayer I had when I was 8 years old. I know that I am not the best ate or child, but I like to believe that 2017 made me a better one.

God

This year I learned to surrender.

I used to take so long when I pray and 80% of it was me asking for things I deem to be necessary, but 2017 made me understand that I have been doing it the wrong way. Now when I pray, I say a quiet scream of praise which takes up 40% of my time then I apologize for all my sins be it on the mind, heart, or deeds and that’s also about 40% and then I say “God I surrender everything to You, everything. Help me to become Your servant. Protect my family always. I love You.” 20% of my time praying is that. It is short but it is powerful.

I realized when you trust God to direct your life, you give Him the power and you give yourself the peace in knowing that you are always at His mercy and His wings. That God is with you all the days of your life, because you surrendered and the Heavens is guiding you. It’s difficult to explain but I gave God the sail to my ship and everything from there has been a purposeful ride. 

Short Hair

This was the year I decided to cut my hair short like really really short. It was an impulsive decision, but one that was wanted for a long time, an act of defiance against those who said that I can’t. I enjoyed all the memories I had with this hair even though I looked like Dora and on some days Boots. Still, it was an amazing journey with this one. Power.

Lessons and Self

1. Love is everywhere. Love was there when you smiled at the old woman who wore dirty baggy clothes and who was picking up plastic bottles on theway home. Love was when she smiled back. Love was here when you treated your sister to Greenwhich. Love was wanting to sleep beside them every night. Love was when you forgave yourself for being bad at debates. Love was when you fought for Ed. Love is when you pray. Love was in the flowers that day you decided that it was time to let go. Love was in the ocean when you needed to breathe and when you felt like it’s so much easier to just drown. Love is your Papa, and your Mama, and Yanitz, and Chim. Love is the solace, love is the truth, love is the strength, love is faith. Love is everything, and love is everywhere, you just have to want to see it.

2. You are shitty person. But, that’s okay. You are trying.

3. Attitude really matters. I met a lot of people who are so engulfed with ego and pride that stemmed from their achievements, majority can’t stand them despite their honors. What good is it when you don’t touch people’s lives anyway?

4. Laugh. Satisfaction is hard to find. It’s different to stand under the rain and to dance under it. I’ve learned to do both. I dance in front of mirrors now too.

5. You don’t need a boy. Relationships bring heartache and pain. Some people say they love you but then they don’t. I know it’s nice to feel giddy before you fall asleep but if it’s at the cost of you waking up in the morning and tiring yourself to wait for their replies who by the way wouldn’t be there not until it’s convenient for them, then maybe it’s time to really really really wake up. 

6. You’re still a hopeless romantic despite everything you say.

7. YOU ARE NOT AFRAID OF DYING. At 2017, I thought I had cancer. I have this bump in my head that existed for no apparent reason. It was also during this time that I visited a lot of wakes. Somehow there was a button inside of me that just kinda flipped. It was a eureka moment when I realized that I am not afraid, not of dying. It was that kind of realization that takes you on a nostalgia ride and when you look back you realize that you have loved with your heart bruised and with it whole and that you are finally happy, that you have always been happy despite not being so. It was contentment. It’s a scary thought to admit that I am not afraid of dying. Ironic.

8. Skin is just that, skin. I know it’s hard to feel confident when you have a lot of pimples and acne scars, and when you have a bloated belly, and bushy brows. But people don’t remember that about you when you die. Most of the times, people don’t even notice it. We are own critics and a pimple is not fckng worth it.

9. It’s perfectly fine to change decisions. You can go from Point A to Point B. Mistakes will be made along the way, but we are humans that’s what we do best.

10. Forgive.

11. Fight for the things and the people you love. No matter how hard it is. Sometimes, you just have to trust your heart. Everybody can say that you didn’t work out, but nobody can ever tell you that you didn’t try.

12. You turned 18 this year. Fifteen years from now maybe your wedding day. Right now, you have every chance, every opportunity, every day. To turn your aspirations into reality. To love every single person around you. To trust and to forgive when it’s so hard to do so. To be grateful. To give back. To laugh. To dance in front of mirrors. To bathe in the rain. To pray. To work on yourself. To learn. Things will change, they always do, you will too. Make it legendary.

Last night, I told someone how much I hated 2017 how all of those things above were just petty excuses for how much I loathed last year. But, I was wrong.

I wanted to become someone normal, and I think I succeeded. What is normal anyway? Normal is being yourself, normal is failing, normal is loving. I understand now that there is more to life than meets the eye. 

My life is normal but it’s not monochromatic, it’s not just shades of black and white. It’s magical and vibrant. Neutrality will always be there but it doesn’t mean that you have to be color blind.

2017 was the year I loved so hard. 2017 was the year I lost people. 2017 was the year I decided that I liked wearing skirts. 2017 made me fat. 2017 was the year I turned an adult. 2017 was the year I cried so much because of Rea Nitz. 2017 was when I loved Yanitz more. 2017 was me being a whole new person, different from who I was once upon a time. I like to believe that I’m stronger now, I’m ready to get back in the game, but now with the added wisdom that the best things in life come to those who find love and beauty in the smallest things. I grew as a person, and I will continue to be a student of life. Wow if that ain’t damn good realizations I don’t know what are.

I’m pretty much sure that 2017 prepared me for a spectacular year and for all the years ahead. 

I know I said I hated 2017, but I have never been so glad to finally accept that I was wrong.