#and plenty of people watch stranger things for the russians or whatever i was actually surprised when people were ranking the subplots i

[maddy-ferguson]

when people who like seasons 1 and 2 better explain why it was better they always lose me when they say "the characters were what mattered the most the supernatural plot was basically not that important it was ALL about the characters" like...that's just what YOU were more interested in not what was happening in the show? like wdym the supernatural plotline wasn't that important in seasons 1 and 2. saying that it was more balanced or more subtle i get but saying that the supernatural plot wasn't THAT important and that it's not what made anyone love the show is a blatant lie

[always-winter-baby]

feel free to add anything i missed, endgame haters.

This is a Wordpress post that I never posted about a Facebook post that I made last fall (2019) about how godawful Endgame was.

-------- I know I've been gone for a while and when I was here, I was writing about films I had watched. (Maybe I should start that.)

However, I am a HUGE fan of Marvel and their cinematic universe. I have the movies, the comics, the clothing, and far too much memorabilia to be considered a "casual" fan at this point. I've been reading comics for about twelve years and I started dedicating myself to the MCU around the end of Phase One.

That being said, it means everyone comes to me with their Marvel questions and everyone comes to me to see what I thought of each new film. And I don't give simple, "It was good. I really liked it," answers. I make complete strangers regret their own questions sometimes because I dive into the deep end immediately describing how they really pulled off the Mysterio "mind-bending" stuff fantastically, but how the story hinged really hard on Tony Stark when Peter in the comics stands on his own and Peter in the MCU should be able to as well.

I can give you speeches on the reason why Natasha's backstory would have been better established in The Winter Soldier than Age of Ultron or and how killing off Pietro in his first film did a disservice to Wanda's character, etc, etc. In the words of a person I passed by at work the other day, "I can talk the ears off a snake."

That's not the point of this post. That was just establishing that I am very dedicated and I Care deeply about these characters and this world.

That being said, when someone on Facebook not too long ago asked me to share my opinions on Avengers: Endgame, I asked him if he was really prepared for the novel I was going to spill on why I think that Endgame was a poorly written and directed film. He said his was. But his lack of any response to my novel was proof that he clearly was not.

However, for anyone else wondering, I copied that little book of a response and I'm posting it here. It's a little scrambled up (it was a facebook post so these things happen, okay?). I think it will still get the point across as to why I tell people that if I pulled the good parts of Endgame, I could make a really great thirty minute Avengers movie.

The post went as follows:

-Thor’s characterization was a three hour long fat joke. Thor had the most character growth out of anyone in Infinity War. His part was fantastic. Then they turned around and made everything about it completely idiotic. Thor has lived over a thousand years. He’s lost battles and lost countless, countless people before. Infinity War wasn’t the first time he made a mistake in battle that cost someone their life. He lost his entire family and almost all of friends and none of that turned him into lazy, sloppy, unshowered, fat Thor. I refuse to believe this time would magically break him. Character annihilation.

Banner has hated the Hulk for the entirety of Hulk’s existence. He’s talked about how exposed and vulnerable it makes him feel. He’s always been a quiet, shy, reclusive, and work-focused kind of guy. Now magically, he’s happy being Hulk 24/7, dabs, and takes selfies with kids? He’s hanging out in public as Hulk and drawing attention to himself? Sorry. Refuse to believe it. I know Professor Hulk is from the comics. It seems stupid and forced there too. I’m not of the opinion that just because something is found in comics that it’s necessarily a good thing. I’ve read plenty of bad comics as I’m sure any decent comic reader has.

-Tony isn’t awful. I actually think he’s done pretty well. No complaints.

-However, Pepper is awful. And it makes sense now that they’ve released the info that Gwyneth Paltrow just made up a lot of her own lines. She doesn’t know the character despite having played her for a decade. Pepper is always super cautious and she is constantly on Tony’s case about his heroic ventures, etc. Therefore, I find it incredibly hard to believe that she let him go without a fight after he “solved time travel.” I also find it absolutely impossible that she sits beside him as he’s dying and is peaceful enough to just tell Tony that he’s okay and he should rest. Per her character for the last decade, she should have been frantic. Of course it wouldn’t have been as sad and poetic an ending, but it would have been much more believable for the character.

-Clint. Meh. I can live with Clint, I think. I don’t love it or hate it. I am glad they reestablished his closeness with Natasha after AoU tried to erase it.

-Natasha. I actually like Natasha’s character in this one. Same as Tony, I think they wrote her without compromising her. Good for them. Even though I hate that they killed her off, I think that the final scene where she fights Clint is SO WELL DONE. (Except her father wasn’t named Ivan. Not even in the MCU. But whatever. Maybe Markus and McFeely know absolutely nothing about Russian names despite giving Natasha’s full name in CA:TWS. I’ll chalk it up to ignorance. Whatever.) HOWEVER, despite liking Natasha’s character and death scene, the death should not have happened. I don’t know if you’re a comic reader, but if you are, you know that the trip happens where you see the bad guy or a random person or whatever do a Bad Thing. Then later in the comic, when the Bad Thing comes into play again and there seems like absolutely no hope, the hero pulls out One Last Magic Trick. The hero manages to do what the previous person could not. And they Save the Day because they are the hero. And the hero is the one designed to give readers hope that we can overcome all odds, etc. It is literally the entire point of superhero stories to tell the stories that “realistic” books never could. We’ll come back to my complaint with Natasha’s death in a moment.

-Scott, Rhodey, Rocket, Carol were all fine. No complaints. But Okoye.

They made it out in promo that Okoye was going to have a much more significant part. She was barely in the thing. And I think it was a very missed opportunity. We saw T’Challa turn to dust. And we were told Shuri did (although, I would have paid much bigger money to see her alive and operating as The Black Panther. She’s assumed that mantle in the comics before so definitely not out of the realm of possibility.) I wanted them to show us what Wakanda would look like with half its population dusted and its ruler gone. Does M’Baku rule? What do Okoye and the Dora Milaje look like now without their King and who do they protect/defend? They had a great opportunity to show us how the world was faring after five years post-Snap, especially a place like Wakanda that rarely suffers any devastations due to their tech. Now without that protection, how are they handling the aftermath? Enormous missed opportunity.

-Steve. On my god. Where do I even start? Going into Endgame, Steve Rogers had the BEST story arc of anyone in the MCU. But here is where Marvel really shot themselves in the foot. They let the opinions of fans after Civil War severely alter their original plans for this film. (That’s a fact that’s been admitted by former Marvel employees. I didn’t make that up.). After Civil War came out, there were two strong opinions being voiced. 1) Fans who didn’t know the comics didn’t understand Sharon being there and didn’t like her quickly becoming Steve’s love interest. 2) Fans saw the always-present and ever-growing bond between Steve and Bucky and got bolder about their campaign that Steve and Bucky were a couple. Doesn’t matter if you’re for that or not. The fact of the matter is that the idea of them as a couple has A BIG FOLLOWING. I don’t think people were really pushing to see it become a real thing on screen or anything, but the execs at Marvel suddenly did this thing where they all quickly shouted “NO HOMO” really loudly and promptly dropped Bucky from as many scenes as possible. They admitted to creating distance between Steve and Bucky for this reason. And because Steve and Sharon didn’t get the reaction they wanted, they had Steve go back and get back with Peggy.

But let’s recap here and see if any of that makes sense for Steve Rogers.

—He and Bucky were “inseparable on both playground and battlefield.”

—He literally broke the law and went behind enemy lines against orders just in case he had even the slightest chance of finding and saving Bucky from a Hydra base. He didn’t even know if Bucky was still alive.

—He added Bucky to his elite team and they fought side by side until Bucky’s “death.” When Bucky “died,” Steve went from saying, “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies” to saying, “I’m not going to stop until all of Hydra is dead or captured.”

—Years later, when he realized Bucky was still alive, he literally stopped mid-fight and dropped all defenses. Later in the same film (on the helicarrier), he refuses to even fight Bucky. He drops his shield and was going to very willingly let Bucky kill him rather than fight him.

— When the Accords become a thing, Steve defied his own friends and 117 countries to get Bucky to safety. And then continues defying them with Bucky at his side because he is determined that Bucky deserves due process and a lawyer and help, not imprisonment.

— He helps Bucky get somewhere safe to hide and recover and visits him there. (Russos said they even discussed showing that Steve and Bucky were in regular contact between CW and IW.)

—He fights the Battle of Wakanda with Bucky and then gets to see him disintegrate right in front of him. It’s built up to be a very big moment. Bucky collapses into nothingness and Steve sits there touching Bucky’s dust remnants and with tears in his eyes. “Oh, God.”

—Then, magically comes Endgame and Steve is in a support group for people lost in the Snap and he’s grieving over PEGGY??? HE NEVER EVEN WENT ON A DATE WITH PEGGY. NOT ONE DATE. He kissed her ONE TIME very briefly 75+ years ago! HOW CAN HE BE SO SURE THEY WERE SOULMATES?! This is just awful writing.

— Then when everyone is brought back through the portals, Steve doesn’t even look for Bucky to make sure he’s there. They fight far away from one another. They never acknowledge the other one. These men have literally looked at each other before thinking that would be the last face they ever saw and then at the Battle to End All Things, they don’t even glance around to see if the other is present.

— Steve literally barely says goodbye to Bucky. He fought and was willing to die for the man, but now he is in such a rush to get back to that one girl he kissed that one time that he forsakes the people he should care about. (Sebastian Stan says he questioned this to the Russos and was actually told to just imagine Steve and Bucky must have talked it over offscreen and Sebastian tried to fight it, but was shot down.)

— Steve jumps in a time machine and goes back to live with his supposed soulmate thus creating an alternate timeline.

I have a real problem with this. A man who has been selfless his entire life chose to go and be selfish for 75+ years instead of helping anyone. This man lives to fight injustices and we are supposed to forget that? In order to believe that he went back to a woman he didn’t know that well and who already had a husband/children. CA:TWS showed that she had lived a happy life. She told him she only regretted that he didn’t get to live his. She didn’t regret them not getting to spend theirs together. And he didn’t seem to either. He was actively moving forward with his life. Thus the reason for Sharon.

Anyway, his entire story arc which is based around him being partners with Bucky and him being selfless got absolutely destroyed when he went back in the time machine and just ran away from everything he had built.

Which seems more likely? That everything in the three Cap films and IW was wrong about his character? Or that Endgame just slapped a big “No Homo” sticker on the script and did whatever they could possibly do to make sure fans could not say that Steve and Bucky were a thing?

Furthermore, I have no problem with Sam becoming the next Cap. I have a big problem with them doing it if the reason was to further the sever the ties between Steve and Bucky.

-And the Russos said that Bucky couldn’t be Cap because his mind had been compromised and that he couldn’t be trusted with a weapon. Which means that Bucky’s whole recovery story was what? A lie? They established that Bucky was really a great guy and not a terrible terrorist. And they said Shuri fixed his mind. And we still can’t trust the guy with the shield?

So either Shuri failed dramatically even though we saw her talent and progress with him in Black Panther and IW, Bucky is now magically “too broken,” or the writers and directors are stupid.  Your call, I guess.

They literally foreshadowed Bucky!Cap in all three Cap films. Bucky handles the shield in ALL THREE FILMS. But now he can’t be trusted with a weapon? Now he’s dangerous? He literally fought the battle of Wakanda with knives and an assault rifle. The shield is a DEFENSE weapon. So this excuse is the flimsiest argument ever and says horrible things about putting trust/faith in people after they’ve been victims and recovered from trauma. Gross.

-At least they FINALLY got Scarlet Witch right. I’ve been waiting to see my favorite Avenger done right for years. No complaints here except it took them long enough.

-Let’s not even discuss how their time travel ideas and theories are a MESS. Plot holes everywhere. (Steve would have created a new time line by going back. Did he just magically put the aether back in Jane? Did he have to kick Red Skull’s ass again on Vormir because I can’t imagine he would just stand by idly. This stuff would take me too long to even add onto here.)

-But back to Natasha. If it’s a “soul for a soul,” then when Steve returned the soul stone, he should have gotten Natasha back. Apparently a lot of fans saw this plot hole because they asked the Russos about it and the response they seriously got was something to the idea of, “No, you can’t do that. It doesn’t work that way.” Which WHY NOT? (Apparently because of poor writing.)

-Also not bitter (yeah right) that Tony got this big deal send off and everyone forgot about Natasha half an hour after she died. Shouldn’t the big send off at the end have been for both of them?!?! Would that have been SO hard?!

-Should I even discuss the fact that for some stupid reason Steve goes back in time and the serum stops working? Why does he age? Thor establishes in AoU that he doesn’t think Steve is mortal. And Peggy says in CA:TFA that Steve’s cells regenerate at four times the rate of average human cells. So he should still be fairly young even if he went back to the 40s. He shouldn’t start to age like a regular human just because he time traveled. He didn’t travel back to before he got the serum. I literally said, “No,” angrily the second they showed the back of Steve when he was sitting on that bench at the end. The other people in the theater turned to look at me and I was already pissed as hell and the movie wasn’t even over yet.

-Nebula having to kill her last self just seemed sloppy and cliche. I wasn’t impressed. That character had been through hell.  She is the one who really turns the tides in in the Infinity Saga comics so for her to get such poor treatment in the film?  SHE should have been the one to kill Thanos.  I know what Thor said, but Nebula literally has a lifetime of torture to make up for and she would have gotten some small consolation in avenging the death of her sister. GUH.  THIS MAKES ME SO ANGRY.  SHE DESERVED THIS.

-So we really just backtracked and retconned Gamora’s whole story like that, huh?  I’m sure James Gunn is thrilled. (I’m joking. I’d be annoyed to high heavens if I were him.) Gunn had literally written this character’s story arc and progression and the Russos and Markus/McFeely took over and then literally wrote the story equivalent of “and then they all died” with Gamora’s story.  Such a jerk move and I sincerely hope Gunn finds a way to make GotG Vol 3 work out really well despite this.

I’m sure there’s more I’m unhappy with, but you get my point. I had high hopes for this film and they did not deliver.

It’s been months and I am still so immensely disappointed in Endgame. I expected the people who had written such great films in the past to deliver with another great film and they did not.

It wasn’t a completely awful film though. I thought they did a really good job with Doctor Strange and Wanda (finally!). And I loved Steve lifting Mjölnir! Carol’s short hair made me hot and bothered.  So the film had a few perks. 

I have friends who liked the film until I started pointing out its flaws. Sorry, not sorry. I'm glad Marvel broke box office records, but I'm not going to lie to anyone and say it was with a great film.

They are ----- And look, I never posted it on my blog because the rant ends there mid sentence and was never completed, but I think it’s safe to say I’m not happy.  That great cinematic masterpiece is a mockery of good character arcs. Anyone is welcome to try, but I’m unlikely to change my mind.

ETA: Since writing this, I have found multiple things about Tony’s character that upset me too.

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble-a-thon: One, Three Words

Title: Tender Curiosity Rating: PG-13 Relationships: Gabriel/The Russian, Past Gabriel/Johnny Trigger Warnings: Irresponsible drinking, drug use Brief Summary: I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.

Upstate New York, Summer 2018 Kaleidoscope Johnson’s estate

4am

Sometimes Gabriel couldn’t help but to feel like he was living in some sort of F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. He felt like some aristocrat in the twenties or thirties. Who the fuck summered at their wealthy friend’s summer estate? Kale had his eccentricities, but inviting the whole art collective to stay at his home for the summer was definitely new. Of course, not everyone came for the entire summer. Most of the collective was just coming on the weekends, but Gabriel didn’t have a reason to stay in the city. 

Delilah was visiting and didn’t want to see him, and his husband, no, ex-husband filed the divorce papers. There was no reason for him to be in the city, and so he was taking advantage of his friend’s hospitality, or rather his loneliness. 

Gabe thought he rather enjoyed having people filling every inch of the estate. It was a rather large estate to begin with. Who the hell had a formal dining room, a casual dining room, and a semi-formal dining room? There were six rooms that Gabe would classify as a living room. Who needed that many rooms?

Besides, there were still six of them at the estate during the week. Well, okay. Six people who weren’t Kale, Gabe, and the staff. During the weekends there were about twenty people at the estate, but during the week it was just:

Jimmy, Kaleidoscope’s twenty-six year old boytoy

Steven, an artist, and the most annoying twink Gabe had ever met

Velvet, an artist who was tragically depressed by all the gay around her

Willy, a lesbian, part-time witch, full-time poet, who was trying to get Kale to join her coven

Destiny, Willy’s girlfriend, part-time lesbian and full-time witch

The Russian, a tourist who Kale met at a gay bar and brought home

The days were surprisingly not boring, which was what Gabe needed right now. Every night was a dinner party and an excuse to drink until four or five in the morning. Every day consisted of lounging around the manor, or the pool, or walking around the estate, or riding around the estate and, of course, art. There was so much art. Easels were a common accessory to every room. Sure. he wasn’t getting as much painting done as he wanted, but he was starting to feel in a better mental state. Long trips to the estate tended to help. 

Still, that didn’t stop his insomnia. He’d gotten so used to sharing a bed that he was still having trouble sleeping through the night. At least when he had Bella, there was a baby in his bed, but here he slept alone. Well, sometimes he and Velvet cuddled, but other than that he slept alone. He was pretty sure Kale had invited the Russian home for Gabe’s personal entertainment. He was definitely his type, but he just wasn’t doing it for him, which was so fucking weird. He was hot, but there just wasn’t a connection there. The other man was definitely interested, but Gabe was just perpetually not in the mood.

Most of the evening activities had settled down and everyone had scattered throughout the manor house. Kale and Jimmy had gone up to bed. Steven was where he usually was at night, on the screened-in porch trying to master a night landscape that didn’t look dark or muddy. The lesbians had passed out in the media room to old episodes of Friends, which had left Gabe alone with Velvet and the Russian. His name was Gregor, but Gabe didn’t like thinking of him by his name. That meant he was attached and Gabe wasn’t going to grow attached to a stranger. The second Velvet started asking questions that ventured into the realm of ‘spooky,’ Gabe had excused himself to go to bed. That had been maybe an hour ago, but Gabe hadn’t made it that far.

He was stretched out on the window seat in the drawing room, a cup of herbal tea in hand and his sketchbook on his lap. It wasn’t the window seat he wanted to be sitting on, but the view was definitely better. There was grass and trees as far as the eye could see. There was an itch under his skin to draw, but he was tired. He’d done a little bit of sketching, but mostly he was allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts.

“Bad dreams or haven’t been to bed yet?” The Russian asked as he came into the drawing room. He looked a little spooked, and Gabe almost felt bad for abandoning him. As much as he loved his friend, Velvet could be intense at times, but the Russian had been at the estate for a couple of weeks. Gabe would have thought he would have been used to her eccentricities by now.

“Velvet is a very dark girl, no? She want to know many things about Baba Yaga. She not going to…” He pressed his lips together as he tried to find the right word. While his English was normally better than Gabe’s, after a couple of bottles of wine, he had a hard time remembering some words. Not being able to figure out the right word, he dragged his finger across his throat and mimed being dead.

Laughing, Gabe sat up and shook his head, taking a sip of tea, grimacing when he realized it’d gone cold. He set the tea aside and tucked his feet underneath him. “She’s harmless. Just a goth.” At the blank look, he added “She likes learning about death and horror. And wears a lot of black and crosses.” There was more to it than that, but Gabe figured that the other man knew the word, but just couldn’t remember it in his current state.

The Russian nodded as he sat next to Gabe despite there being plenty of chairs for him to sit in. Their thighs were touching, and Gabe didn’t necessarily care for the contact. He didn’t move away though. “Gabriel, am I not appealing to you?” He asked out of the blue. 

He choked and looked at the other man. “What? No, you’re…” He forced out a laugh. “You’re gorgeous.” And maybe it hadn’t been Kale that the Russian had followed home from the gay bar. Maybe it had actually been him the entire time, and Kale allowed it because he was, well, Kale. “I’m just… broken. I’m not relationship material right now. Or even fling material for that matter.” 

The Russian nodded, looking very serious, as though Gabe’s words prompted serious thought. “I go back to Moscow tonight.” He said, sounding pensive, but there was something else, something that Gabe couldn’t quite place. Suddenly there was a mouth on his, and by the time he was even able to register what had happened, the other man was standing up and pulling him to his feet. “Come to bed with me. Just for now. Let me help fix the broken.”

The look on his face just made him melt. As much as he complained about there being a stranger hanging out in their friend group, he had grown used to the other man’s company. Hell, he’d become accustomed to him joining him on the porch in the mornings when most of the house was still asleep. “Okay,” He said in almost a whisper as he let himself be led upstairs and into the other man’s room. “ I’m going to sound like a teenage girl, but I don’t go all the way. Everything else is fair game.” 

The Russian laughed. “Whatever you want to give, I’ll take.”

3pm

A cigarette was pressed between Gabe’s lips as he leaned against the railing of the small balcony attached to the guest room that had been the Russian’s. With the exception of a minor appearance during lunch to grab food and coffee from the kitchens to take back to bed, he hadn’t left the Russian’s rooms, which were much smaller than Gabe’s own. A part of him was missing the tables and chairs that were on the balcony attached to his room. Although, he didn’t regret his choice of beds or bed mates. 

Dressed in only the larger man’s sweater and nothing else, he cheekily waved down at Destiny and Willy who were settling down in the garden for their afternoon meditation. With a wink, he put out his cigarette and then walked back into the room, laughing at the surprised shouts and giggles that followed him inside when they realized that he’d been naked from the waist down.

“You’re trouble, you know.” The Russian told him as he finished packing up his bag. “But sweater you should keep. Looks better on you anyway.” He pulled Gabe to him and as a surprise to himself, he let himself go willingly. “Come to Moscow. I have private jet. Many things for you to paint and draw. Might not like some of the people, but I think you’d like Moscow. Much beauty there for an artist.”

Yesterday he wouldn’t have even considered the offer, but today he was actually thinking about it. For all his avoidance, the Russian was actually a very sweet man. Definitely a bear, and he could easily see any many falling for his charms, which was probably the real reason why Gabe had been avoiding him. As much as the divorce had been his idea, the thought of moving on had been too much for Gabe to handle, and the Russian could have been so easy to fall for. 

He took Gabe’s lack of response for a response. “It was worth a shot.” He said ruefully as he pressed a kiss to the top of Gabe’s head. “Gabriel, you’re a good man. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. And if you decide Moscow sounds nice, call me, hmm?”

Gabe laughed before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You deserve better than me.” He told him. “I hope you find the person who makes you happy.” He whispered out. “I’m sorry it couldn’t be me.”

Gregor rested his forehead against Gabe’s. “Me, too.”

5pm

This time Gabe was standing on the front porch as he smoked his cigarette. The romantic in him (or maybe it was more like the romance novel reader in him) almost wished he had one of those long cigarette holders. It would fit his mood: the left behind man watching as his lover left in a taxi, rain pouring down in sheets. God, he’d spent far too much time with Kale; he was becoming far too dramatic in his old age. 

Sighing as the taxi was officially out of his line of sight, he put out his cigarette and padded back into the house. He knew how he probably looked: hair askew, barefoot, torn jeans barely on his hips (he’d lost weight during the divorce) and still wearing that stupid sweater. The thing was he didn’t care if he looked like a damsel from a mass market romance novel. That’s how he felt. 

Knowing that the rest of the house would be wandering into the sitting room for pre-dinner drinks soon, he headed there directly. As soon as he saw Willy and Destiny on the couch, he flopped his large body across both of theirs. 

“Mr. Russia is gone then?” Willy asked, shifting the book she was reading to rest of Gabe’s shins. “I was half-expecting you to chase after him in the rain. I thought you repressed gays became extra dramatic in your later years.”

Before Gabe could respond, Destiny nudged her girlfriend before running her fingers through Gabe’s hair and massaging his scalp. “Don’t listen to her, sweetie. Your aura is finally calming back to its natural state. It’s been a mess of reds and blacks this summer, but it’s finally settling back to a nice ocean water blue. I think you’re finally moving on.” She didn’t let him say anything and he was half asleep by the time the others came into the room.

“Damn it.” Steven all but whined as he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it over to Kaleidoscope. “How’d you know he wasn’t going to go.” 

His mentor smirked. “Because he left his heart in New York City.” He sing-songed as he tucked his money into his pocket. “Besides Gabey promised not to abandon me all summer and he is a queen who keeps his promises.”

There was a scoff that had to have come from Jimmy. Gabe’s eyes were still closed, but it had to have come from him. Usually he started prepping the pre-dinner drinks and then Kale passed them out. “Isn’t that what I’m here for, Scope?”

Now Gabe opened his eyes and made a gagging face in unison with Velvet who pulled him to his feet and then dragged him onto the love seat. Immediately, Gabe’s upper body went into Velvet’’s lap, head propped up against the armrest so he could still drink, feet dangling over the over armrest.

“No, you’re here to satisfy my sexual appetites. Gabe and Velvet are here for everything else.” Kale sassed out without missing a beat, sweeping over to Gabe and Velvet to hand them their martinis. Each day had a different theme. Today they were blue, which meant they were likely going to wind up very very drunk and probably very very stoned.

As Kale continued to bicker with Jimmy and Steven wandered over to talk to the lesbians, Gabe found himself thinking about something the Russian had told him. “Vel,” He asked quietly. “Why did Gregor think you were going to kill us all?”

The silver haired thirty-something rolled her eyes dramatically. “I only wanted to know about the legitimacy of Baba Yaga.” She said sipping her drink. “And  I mentioned that this summer felt like a murder mystery novel, and that it would be so easy to just poison the wine.” The way she said it made it sound like she was talking about using water-based paint instead of oil-based.

Gabe choked on his martini and Velvet ran a comforting hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t poison you. Everyone else on the other hand…” She looked over towards Steven and the lesbians wistfully.

“Remind me not to let you watch Bella again, okay?”

Velvet laughed, and Gabe slowly relaxed, ready for whatever adventures the evening would bring.

[wetooarestarstuff]

12/7/20

I write journal entries to sort my feelings and to share with the world what’s happening with me, this tiny corner of the universe. Sometimes, I write to remember an incident. It is just like a grocery list, except the items are experiences. I want to be able to look back on the memory when I’m old.

Whenever geese are in the park, I stand among them. They graze, poop, chase each other, honk, preen, do anything but pay much attention to me. This day, however, I happened to twist my body around to see what was going on with the geese behind me, and I caught a few geese crossing the path, very close to me, right at that moment. That was a little unusual in itself, because geese usually leave plenty of space between themselves and humans. As these geese passed beside me, another goose walked toward me. Yes, I had to make sure I didn’t see that wrong. The goose was walking toward me; I was the object the goose was pinpointing very clearly in its eyes. 

The goose was right by my feet now, “shoes” more specifically. In fact, the goose displayed its interest predominantly to my shoes. That was the closest thing about me to the goose. The goose tried to reach my shoe with its bill. The first few times, the goose was evidently shy and hesitant. It would come very close to my shoe but would give up in the last second. I didn’t move an inch, allowing the goose to do whatever it wanted to do. After a few tries, the goose finally braved up, and its bill made contact with my shoe. The goose nibbled on my shoe a bit. The bill is actually a pretty hard piece of material, and I could feel the solidness of it against my shoe. 

It was a long time that the goose remained there. In objective time, maybe five minutes, but that was a long time to be stationary in fleeting, variable nature. A few times, the goose looked up at my face from that very close distance. Its neck was raised high and straight, and its two eyes stared directly at my own, the bill right in the middle of its face, compressed into 2D. Geese have brown irises! Sometimes the little head quivered to find the right focus. My knee twitched once from standing so still. The goose caught that as well and looked up at once to find my face, as if asking, “What just happened?” Not just humans, but it seems animals too look at the face to discern others’ moods and intentions. And it is interesting because we don’t think animals look at each other’s facial expressions, and rather communicate through sounds. We don’t even think facial expressions exist in the world of animals. But they look at human faces, as if knowing “That’s where you are. Not your feet or torso or arms, but that face is you.”

Afterwards, the goose left me. It paused on the path for a few moments. All the other geese were grazing far away. It honked once to find its group. Then it just walked straight and away. 

I had never experienced such a connection with a goose before. It feels magical for an animal to find you, instead of the other way around, as it always seems to be. This brought up a memory of last winter when I holidayed with my parents. We went on a road trip near the sea, stopping by various attractions along the coast. One of them was a coffee bean farm. I was standing there and sampling the coffees, completely oblivious, when I felt something brush across my calves. I turned around and saw that it was a beautiful cat, a Russian blue perhaps. I immediately reached down to try and pet it. The cat continued walking and I only managed to feel its tail going through my hand. By this time, all the other visitors noticed the cat as well and crowded around her. The cat was friendly with people and a bit mischievous. It walked between a small girl’s legs, and the girl shrieked in joy. Then a tinge of embarrassment came over her face as she saw that strangers, including me, were watching as well.

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Thirteen

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. Although I fixed/removed wrong USA government references, a few may remain. And yes, I was super hooked on Yuri on ice when I originally wrote this section. I probably named a dozen things Yuri, out of total feels and mush.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166240484893/lrtihew-part-twelve

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Shuffling out of his seat to the aisle, Ivan walked right up to the nervous man. “I know who you are. If you do not come with me, I will inform security.” Ivan greeted coldly. The stranger paled, then nodded. “Lead the way.” he replied. Ivan immediately recognized the accent as one of his dear sister Ekaterina. He was less than amused with his oldest sibling. The scared Ukrainian man followed him right into the men's bathroom.

“Who sent you?” Ivan demanded in Russian, blocking the exit out. Slipping on leather gloves, the tall nation grinned maliciously. The scared assassin remained silent, pulling a gun from his pocket. He pointed the gun at Ivan, shouting something angry and Ukrainian tinted. “I know. I know Kozloff is one of your little pets, your spies. My people know this is all a plan of the Russian government, to take over from inside. Russia is a disease, and killing your pet president will stop outbreak.” The assassin threatened, waving his gun around as he bragged.

Ivan charged as soon as the gun was pointed away from his person. The gun was literally ripped from the human's hand, dislocating the thumb. “It is a shame you are so stupid.” Ivan purred darkly, locking the man in a painful arm bar with frightening agility. Forcing the man to his knees before a toilet, Ivan heard him whimper “My people will rebel, Ukraine will show the world that Russia is evil.”

“So cute.” Ivan hummed, forcing the man's face into the toilet water. He was sure to use light even pressure. Whenever the Russian dumped the body in the nearest lake, it would simply look like a drowning. There was thrashing and struggling for several minutes. After a while, it weakened and stopped. Ivan held the face down a bit longer, just to be certain.

As usual, Alfred had a horrible sense of timing. He pushed through the bathroom doors as Ivan dragged the lifeless corpse from the toilet area. “Hey you're about to miss the speech big guy!” the honey blond greeted only to sigh and cover his face with a both hands. “Why? Why do I always find you doing something gross? You just can't control yourself, can you?” he groaned, looking away. The younger nation paced, shooting accusative glances at Ivan several times. “You know what? I honestly don't care. Shove it in the car trunk and I'll talk about it later.” America finally decided, tossing car keys at Russia's body.

Pleased, Ivan randomly gave Alfred a squeeze. He had suspected Alfred was attempting some form of friendship. “You are a most wonderful host, Alfred.” the Russian commended joyfully. “You are a god damn psychopath. Just don't ruin the party.” the American dismissed, stomping out of the room.

The key to carrying a body from the scene of a crime was to be confident. Ivan had done this enough times that he didn't break stride. The corpse slumped over his shoulder wasn't even rolled in a carpet, or anything equally silly. Strolling through the main lobby, there was a few employees watching. “Some people don't know when to stop partying, huh?” one noted as he watched Ivan intently.

“Yes, it seems that way unfortunately.” Ivan half-lied with ease, waving to them with a free hand. Let the fools assume whatever they wanted. He could just kill them too if they questioned his actions. Stashing the body in the cramped trunk was difficult, but not impossible. The Russian missed the days when cars had bigger trunks. Back then you could stash a body, and still have plenty of room for your vacation luggage.

Ivan barely slipped into his seat before the speech on stage began. The American president was walking on stage, a thunderous cheer greeting him. The dark haired president adjusted his glasses as he took the microphone off it's central stand. After tapping the device to check it, he began.

“Hello everyone. I'm so honored to be here. To be your next president. I feel so loved, to have been chosen when my name was not even on the ballots.” he started, barely present Russian accent thicker from anxiety. There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd. “When my parents fled Russia, they were welcomed to this beautiful country with love and open arms. Growing up, I was taught to count my blessings, and be patient. I count them now, for I am a blessed man. I grew up seeing the United states of America from below and above that thin line that separates the rich from the rest. I've known hardship and wealth, and I know one thing. America will be respected once again.” he paused dramatically, looking over the crowd.

“So I've invited, the senators, the CEO's, the foreign diplomats... All of these important members of society. I brought you all here to meet, to unify and learn. I hope we can all push towards a better America. My advisors actually prepared me a wonderful speech for the public address. I was going to repeat sections of it here, but I don't want to bore you fine citizens. Instead, I will be answering a few questions from the audience.” he continued, a low hush moving through the crowd.

It seemed questions had been filtered out for relevance and possible absurdity. Ivan was surprised the freshly appointed leader volunteered for a verbal attack on his first day. “As the two time senator for Nevada, I've heard a lot of presidential promises that never happened. What are you going to do that's so great?” a stocky man from the audience asked, handed a microphone by government muscle. Ivan was surprised at how accusative the question sounded. Didn't elected officials give respect here?

“I understand your frustrations senator. As a former member of the senate, I used to face these same problems every day. I do have a plan, unlike my predecessor.” Kozlov assured humorously, pausing before launching into another spiel. “The United States is not an island, or an isolated world. It is part of a massive community bound by trade and politics. These past twelve years, this wonderful country's relations with the community at large have been damaged. In the case of North and South Korea, irreparably so. We will not thrive alone, no matter how powerful we are.”

The mature words seemed to stun the more jaded aristocrats. Ivan was so proud at this moment, heart thundering. His spies had done so well. Kozlov continued boldly, “I plan to reach out to the Russian, Chinese, and German governments. These foreign powers are fierce enemies, but even greater allies. I want the government to harmonize global trades, and be more hospitable to immigrants like my own parents. There will be financial incentives involved, no doubt. If I have enough time near to end of my term, I will attempt communications with other world leaders.”

The questions went on for an hour in this manner. Ivan was thoroughly impressed by the mature displays as CEOs, powerful stock traders, and senators figuratively attacked his plans via microphone. Not once did Yuri Kozlov stumble into a poorly worded trap of his own making. Wondering how Alfred was fairing in all this, the Russian looked a few seats down.

In the dim light, America's face looked wet with tears as he smiled. Ivan had only seem him this happy once before, when President Washington first addressed his public as a free country. The sight of such joy in a living nation was a rare jewel to be savored. Ivan couldn't even remember being that happy since the formation of the soviet union. Taking a picture in stealthy fashion, Ivan returned his full attention to the president on stage.

[goldenboywrites]

disaster party // nik & marcus

He didn’t understand the words coming from Nikolai’s mouth. 

“But I love you.” 

He hated how he sounded so weak in that moment. Nikolai was walking away from him and there was nothing Marcus could have done to stop him. 

“Nik...I love you.” 

Desperation laced around his words as he pleaded with the Slytherin. He was scared. His heart was racing and his knees were numb.  And no matter what he said Nikolai stood firmly on their break up. 

“But I don’t love you.” 

Marcus swore his heart stopped. 

“Mr. Coventry..” Marcus snapped out of his nightmare of a daydream and looked up at the Professor standing in front of his desk. “Answer the question.” It had been a week since Nikolai had dumped him and he still spent every moment agonizing over it. It was really starting to affect his schooling, his social life, and even Quidditch.

“I don’t know the answer,” He replied quickly, looking anywhere but at the disappointed teacher. She sighed, and he imagined that she probably shook her head at him. The Gryffindor didn’t care. He just turned his head to look out the window for the rest of the class.

___________________________________________________________

“You should come.” Marcus dropped his fork and looked up to meet the worried gaze of his best friend. 

“What?” He hadn’t heard what Aiden had said. Too busy stabbing his green beans to death and pushing food around his plate to make it seem like he was eating something. 

Aiden rolled his eyes and huffed. He slid a folded up piece of paper and Marcus opened it to see a party invitation. “It’s in the forest?” His brow lifted as his eyes scanned over the details. 

“I think it’ll do you some good, Marcus. You’re walking around here like a ghost and it’s starting to worry a lot of people. I know you really liked Korolenko but haven’t you moped enough?” 

Aiden didn’t get it and Marcus couldn’t fault him for it. What he and Nikolai had was different. It was real and raw. Pure. What Marcus had felt was beyond love. There wasn’t a word to describe it and now that Nikolai was gone it felt like Marcus was missing half of himself. These were the things he wanted to explain to explain to Aiden but it was too difficult and too exhausting. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

Marcus grabbed the invitation and left the Great Hall. 

He rounded a corner and stopped so suddenly his shoes squeaked against the floor. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to that.” Marcus closed his eyes and inhaled. It had only been a week but he had forgotten just how good Nikolai Korolenko smelled. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” The Gryffindor snapped back and raised his head to meet Nik’s gaze, unwavering. 

“It’s in the forest.” Nikolai always had such an aversion to the forest. Marcus had asked plenty of times before but had never gotten a straight answer.

“So?” He jutted his hip out and placed his hand on it, clearly stating his annoyance with his ex. “I’m not scared of the forest.” 

“It’s forbidden and you’re a prefect.” 

“Not anymore,” Marcus answered through gritted teeth. He was pleased when Nikolai’s face went from a neutral expression to that of surprise. He felt a wave of victory ripple through his body. “And quite frankly what I do is none of your business. You dumped me, remember?” 

Marcus shook his head and brushed past Nikolai. Their shoulders brushed and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down right there in the hallway. 

_____________________________________________________________

He clenched his fist and sighed. The tip of his wand illuminated the map to the party but finding the actual party was proving to be harder than Marcus had expected. It had been stupid of him to tell Aiden to go on without him. Now he was lost in the Forbidden Forest at night. 

“Are you lost?” 

At first, Marcus thought it was Nikolai speaking to him. The man had a thick russian accent that didn’t quite match his ex’s. He moved his wand and squinted to look at the other. He seemed too old to be a student but the castle was warded so there was no way he’d be here if he wasn’t trusted.

“You’re looking for that party, aren’t you?” The man leaned against a tree and looked down at his nails, a bored expression on his face. “I just came from there. I can show you the way.” 

Something in his gut told him not to trust this man but what choice did he really have? His only options were to wander the forest until he either stumbled upon the party, the forest line, or continue to walk deeper into the forest itself. 

“C’mon. I won’t bite.” Marcus frowned, unconvinced, and the man nodded up to the darkened sky. “Well at least not until the moon is at the highest point.” Marcus’ brows furrowed in confusion at the comment. Was he making a werewolf joke because it was the night of the full moon. How original. He rolled his eyes. 

“Fine,” He stepped towards the man, ready to get this all over with. “But just know my father is Head Auror and if you hurt a hair on me there will be a lot of people who will hunt you down to the end of the world.” He tucked the map in his pocket and gestured towards the forest. “Lead the way…” 

They walked and walked and walked. He was getting tired and had lost track of time. There was no way the party was this far out into the woods. The top of his foot caught on a root and Marcus stumbled forward but sudden arms around his waist caught him from falling. Sharp nails dug into his sides and Marcus turned his head to look at the other but he was caught off guard by the yellow glowing eyes staring back at him. 

“Got ya,” He snarled and the Gryffindor tried to pull himself out of the man’s grasp. He felt wetness against his cheek and Marcus realized the man was drooling out of the corner of his mouth. He was horrified and the other laughed harshly, a cruel smile placed on his face. “Didn’t Korolenko teach you to never go off with strangers during the full moon?” 

The man shoved Marcus out of his group and the Gryffindor went flying until his chest hit the ground. His forehead caught a rock with a sickening crack and Marcus cried out in pain. His hands shot up to feel the bump already forming. “I-I don’t understand…” 

“You’re a loose end, Marcus Coventry. I told Korolenko that it wasn’t a good idea to get close to anyone but he just couldn’t help himself when it came to you. I understand why…” The man leaped forward until he was hovering above Marcus. “You’re mouthwatering and your magic is just…” He watched as the man inhaled dramatically and slowly. Marcus felt his head pound. “Out of this world. It’ll be a shame that I have to kill you. I would give anything to turn you and place you within my pack. But I need Nikolai to be focused and I need him to do his job. He can’t do that with you alive.”

“Kill me?” The hair on the back of neck stood up and Marcus shook his head. “I wasn’t kidding about my dad. He works for the Ministry and he won’t stop. He has money and he’ll pay you whatever you want. Nik broke up with me. I’m not a problem and I’m not a distraction to him anymore. I don’t understand what you are to him. He didn’t tell me anything.” He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to choke back the sob threatening to spill. “Just let me go and I’ll leave Hogwarts. I’ll do anything just d-don’t hurt me. Please.” 

A finger traced along his cheek, wiping away a couple stray tears. He felt the hot breath of the man on his face and he tried to turn away but a hand was at his throat, forcing him to look at the half man, half beast above him. “He didn’t tell you a damn thing, did he?” The man laughed and then Marcus watched as a shiver ran through his body. His laughed turned into a howl and he watched as the man’s face turned into...a beast. 

“Just in time, Nikolai.” The voice was barely human and Marcus couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the transformation. He turned his head just in time to see a snarling white wolf step into the clearing where they were. And suddenly, it all came together. The nights when Nikolai was nowhere to be found. The secrets. The off handed comments that Marcus shook off. Nikolai running off to ‘meetings’. Every question about the transfer student was now answered. “But you’re too late.” 

“It’s okay,” Marcus whispered to Nik and he tried to be brave in his final moments. The hand around his neck squeezed harder and the corner of his sight started to blacken. Nikolai was whimpering and trying to move forward but an invisible force seemed to be holding him in place. “It’s….”

Marcus felt another hand grip his head and his head was crudely forced to the side with a sickening snap. 

A painful howl was bellowed towards the night sky.

And Marcus saw nothing anymore.

[chuckadams]

The Fierce and Beautiful World: A Requiem for a Year

And now let us gather round the hearth—or whatever it is we consider a hearth in this day and age, be it a wood-stove (you lucky bums) or the soft glow of a smartphone screen—let us gather and dive into yet another of my long-winded rants and raves about the past year. For it has been a doozy. Is that the right word? Can a doozy capture both the highest of highs, as well as the lowest of lows? Is there a better word? I have already googled “best word to describe a year of ups and downs” and google cannot adequately give answers.

Because there are no answers.

Last year I wrote that there are only “arcs and circuits and feedback loops, and they are always bending and flowing. Gaining and losing. Seeking a balance, that will never be perfect or purely balanced.” 2019 was the year that proved it.

SRI LANKA NEW YEAR

On the first day of 2019 I woke up in Bucharest after a long sleep, interrupted briefly by midnight fireworks in the piazza down the street. I had just returned from a two-week trip to Sri Lanka, which, if nothing else, allowed me time to reflect and consider where I was going. I had just begun dating Ani, an Armenian-born Russian citizen, earlier that fall, and she was back home in Russia for the holidays. 

One year later, I will read this, from a book gifted to me by my brother: “I will find my way into new country that beckons me to take unexpected risks, which turn out not to be risks at all, but the next step.” And I realize this was what 2019, and pretty much all of the past decade, has been about. Unexpected risks turning into next steps.

In Sri Lanka, I sat on a beach and watched a daughter excitedly frolic in the waves with her dad, and I thought, Wouldn’t that be nice, too? I took surf lessons (“I need to impress my surfing girlfriend,” I told my instructor). I sat on a flat wooden raft and was pushed across a lake by a silent boatman, while I spied elephants on the far shore with my binoculars, tuning in to the steady splashes of water against the hull. I leaned out from the open door on a jungle train as it chugged through tea fields in the highlands from Ella to Kandy to Colombo, listening to a soundtrack of indie rock music on my mp3 player. 

I read, months later, about the terrorist attacks in Colombo and thought about the wonderful people I had met who would likely suffer from less income this year.

THE TROUBLE WITH ONLINE DATING

“Everything, even the weather, becomes a communication, or even a critical comment, on one’s relationship with things, phenomena, persons, etc.” I wrote that last year. It seems sad to admit, but the biggest comment about my newfound relationship with Ani came when I deleted all of my dating apps on my phone. Not days after I met her, nor even weeks. It took months. Months of internal conflict that culminated in what, for me, was a small victory for the soul.

Online dating apps have been both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, they have allowed an introvert like me to actually have a dating life. I recall, back in 2007, when I was suddenly single after a long relationship, how difficult it was to date. I didn’t even have the Internet at my house in Eugene, Oregon; no Wi-Fi, and definitely no smartphone; I got 8 hours of screen-time per day at my job, and that was plenty for me, thank you. Dating in 2007 was like the Stone Ages compared to today, where you had to physically go out and “bump” into strangers, or just wait until strangers fell into your orbit.

I’m not really the kind of person who talks to strangers at bars (at least not in bars in my home country), so I let people drift into and out of my life like those deer who show up in your front yard, eating your clover, and then move on down the street. I was that kind of deer, too. A feral browser, moving to and fro, with no rhyme or reason.

And then, around mid-2016, voila! an endless scroll of possibilities with dating apps, whilst living in ever larger cities of Portland, and then Bucharest. But I noticed something: the “endless possibilities” became, for me, antithetical to actual committed relationships. I remember going on a few dates with women, who were, on balance, worth spending my time and energy with, but that energy was instead spent scrolling through the endless possibilities still out there. It was like I was living through some bizarro world version of my college art film, “Hunting Love.” I had become a hunter-gatherer, and yet I wanted to be a farmer. These apps had turned me into a hypocritical monster. With so much wild game at my fingertips, there really was no rational reason to switch to cultivating a sustainable life with another person. I had resigned myself to eternal bachelorhood, and I was becoming more and more okay with this.

Then I met Ani.  

And isn’t this how it typically happens? Someone defies all of your expectations, catching you unaware?

With Ani, our courtship (and yes, I insist on using that old-fashioned term) developed over the course of months, not days. It was like a tree that needed to grow a few rings of thickness before it knew it was something of substance. In the past, I would have looked at the seed, imagining I saw a tree, prematurely. Often I would have planted anew before even giving it a chance to grow.

For me, the seed became a tree when we both took a weekend trip to the Black Sea coast in late January 2019, a full 2.5 months after we met. We got a deal on a room at one of the few seaside resorts still open in the dead of winter, one that had an indoor pool and a sauna. That evening, before dinner, we took a stroll along a desolate stretch of beach. It was dusky, cold, and a light rain fell, coating us in those fine white dots of spray. I remember thinking, “There are only so many people on this Earth who would actually enjoy what we are doing right now. I mean, it stinks like dying fish on this beach, and it’s bloody cold, and there is nobody else around here except us.” But we got closer, for warmth, and it was obvious I was not asking too much of her to be here with me.

Later, in the spring, we took a weekend road trip to the far western part of Romania to scout a location for a school trip. Then, for a week we road-tripped through Bulgaria, with the highlight being some wild camping on a beach near the border with Turkey. Again, I came back from these trips pinching myself.

ADDRESSING THE ISSUE OF CHILDREN IN WAR ZONES

In the midst of all this, I continued to teach at the American International School of Bucharest, surrounded by intrepid and exasperating students, as well as adventurous colleagues.

For example, there was that wonderful week in February spent in Sweden with colleagues. We walked around Stockholm, then spent a solid few days cross-country skiing and soaking in hot tubs in Funasdalen, in the central-west mountains near the border with Norway. Mmmhmmmm, just what was needed in the middle of winter. 

I also took on a new challenge this year, namely that I coached the middle school’s Model United Nations (MUN) for the winter season. We had a group of 8 students, all quirky in their own ways, who got practice in debating, resolution writing, and the fine art of lobbying. I’ll admit that I probably would not have been interested in MUN when I was a middle schooler, nor as a high schooler. It does seem to favor those who like to hear themselves talk, though it certainly attracts those with a desperate need for social skills practice. However, I liked that this was a group that actually enjoyed discussing worldly topics, like the role of NGOs in developing countries, or the role that religion plays in national politics. I was most comfortable when I could just assume the Humanities teacher role and guide students to a well-written and researched resolution addressing the issue of children living in war zones. We had a local, on-campus MUN conference in March, and then traveled to a MUN conference in Budapest, Hungary. The big news I wish to share is that, for the first time in my life, I bought a suit. Apparently MUN participants must dress the part, and their coaches must follow suit, literally. So there’s that. A small but significant change. Ka-ching.

THE POETRY OF BONFIRES

After MUN season wrapped up in early April, I got ready to lead a group of 7th and 8th graders on a trip to Port Cetate, in the far southwestern part of Romania, for a week-long creative writing and photography retreat. At my school, the 7th through 10th graders go on week-long trip in mid-May tailored to their interests. The trips ran the gamut from creative pursuits (like writing and photography), to outdoor pursuits (like rock-climbing, mountain biking, or scuba diving), to service-learning pursuits. On the trip I led, I got to teach kids about writing short, descriptive vignettes, as well as how to take photos manually using a DSL film camera (using my old Canon AE-1). It blew their minds that they would have to wait 2-4 weeks to see the fruits of their photography, most of which turned out slightly out of focus. Above all, I won’t forget the last day we had with the students, when we had a bonfire on the banks of the Danube River, looking across to Bulgaria. We had an impromptu dance party, which is probably the most memorable poetry these kids will remember a few years from now.

When we returned from this trip, I headed straight to the airport, to fly to Portugal to meet Ani in Sagres, where we spent two days surfing, eating amazing meals, swinging in hammocks, and hanging with her surf camp friends. We spent one sunset overlooking what can only be described as “the end of the world.” And others describe it this way, too. Sagres is the extreme southwestern point of the European continent. (It is at this spot that we hope to perform a small but special ceremony in June 2020.) Later, we drove north to spend a day in Lisbon, a wonderful city well worth the time and energy spent exploring its nooks and crannies.

SUMMER OF HANG TIME

After that, time moved swiftly. The school year ended, and my summer break began. This summer I would not be charting something so adventurous as the previous summer’s month-long bike tour of the Balkans. No, this summer the theme was Hang Out with Friends and Family, and Renew Relationships. I think this summer epitomized what I wrote last year about optima:

“Optima means there is no single variable which should be maximized over any other single variable: period. This is the practice of stability, of optimization; an oscillation of gain and loss; the practice of diversity; the spirit of community.”

What this meant, in practical terms, is that my legs and lungs probably got less exercise this summer, but I was exercising something else, perhaps less physical, but no less important.

I spent quality time with friends and former professors in Laramie, Wyoming; a week with my brother Jonah and family in Colorado; a road trip across Hwy 50, the “loneliest road,” from Utah to Oregon, with my brother Phil; a family reunion in Astoria with my niece, Skye, and her fiancé, driving in from San Diego, as well as my sister, Elisha, and her boyfriend, Joe, flying in from Chicago, essentially to celebrate my return from abroad, as well as my niece’s recent engagement.

At first I anticipated this reunion with trepidation, as Elisha has a knack for returning to Astoria with hurricane force winds, knocking down everyone in her path of verbal volleys, usually snarky but occasionally biting. That being said, I hadn’t seen her in over a decade, for a variety of reasons, and I realized, after she arrived, in full hurricane mode, and saw her interactions with everyone, that I missed her. Her boyfriend, Joe, was sporting a mohawk and pounding down the local craft beers I was offering. Uh-oh, I thought. Maybe I should have mentioned these were 6% ABU? Somehow we all made it up to the Astoria Column for the sunset.

I remember waking up the next morning and seeing that nobody was taking action to make anything special for breakfast. Such lazy bums, I thought. Then I remembered that I was an adult now...it only took me 36 years to figure that out...and that if I wanted pancakes for breakfast, I had to make them myself. So I got out all the ingredients and I started churning out what we call “big pancakes” in my house, and which are called Swedish pancakes, or French crepes, elsewhere. Sure, there were arguments about whether my dad’s cherry jam would or would not cause food poisoning...arguments over the absurdity of my brother running out and buying three large jars of high fructose corn syrup jelly…but those arguments came from the parents. I remember that Elisha and Joe were grateful for my sweat over the stovetop.

This, I choose to remember.

RECONNECTIONS

Later, once my extended family came and went, I focused on hanging with my parents, and spending time with friends in Astoria and Portland. On this trip alone, I met at least nine brand new humans under the age of two, such is the state of mid-30s life. At some point, I remember briefly thinking, “I miss the freedom of my bike tour of the previous summer, where every day I packed up my panniers and cast off on another journey to another new town.” Then I remember thinking, “Well, but this is nice. To reconnect and restore relationships...moreover, to have the blessing of time off in the summer months to do such a thing, is priceless. There will always be time for adventures; there is not always time to just hang out, however brief, and catch up on life.”

Indeed, I even got to spend a few hours with Ngaoi, a friend I met back when I was volunteering on a farm in New Zealand in 2010. She was the best friend of our hosts, and would come over often to hang out and help us in the hydroponic lettuce greenhouses. My ex-girlfriend, Rachel, and I secretly wanted to adopt her as our daughter (we were in our late 20s; she was in her late teens). Zoom ahead a decade, and she was visiting her current boyfriend, an American she met in New Zealand, but who happened to live in Beaverton, Oregon. They both made a weekend trip to Astoria, and I introduced them to the Blue Scorcher’s coffee and we browsed a “flea market” at a local church.

The sun races around the galaxy; the Earth sprints to keep up with it in gravitational orbits; and we always make our returns back to our origins to begin again.

THE ORIGIN OF LOVE

When I flew back to Romania, Ani had moved into my apartment in downtown Bucharest. We had planned on it before I left, but still it was a bit of a shock to see all her belongings in place, the decor slightly personalized to her likings. I didn’t mind it at all. Moreover, it was an important milestone, a difference that made a difference.

When you are 22, you have your whole life ahead of you, and, even if you’re certain about a thing, can take your time to get around to ascertaining it. Well, when you’re 36, and you are certain about a thing, there is no practical use in waiting to ascertaining it. You take hold of it and don’t let it go.

Thus, by mid-October, while we Ani and I were on vacation in Greece, on the island of Crete, on a stretch of beach we had all to ourselves, as the sun hung low on the horizon, I proposed.  

The engagement ring has the words “origo amare” engraved on the inside of the band, an allusion to our first meeting at a coffee shop named Origo. The Latin phrase means, “The origin of love.” It seems ironic, I know, that the origin of love could be instigated by a few messages sent back and forth on Internations, a social media site for expatriates, followed by a meeting for coffee. There was no love at first sight. In fact, it took a month before we exchanged our first kiss. But every slow burn needs its spark.

Our spark came when I asked if Ani would show me how to use her longboard, which she had in the trunk of her car parked a block away. As we walked to the concrete slab, she pushed me from behind to see which foot was more dominant. It was just a test, but later, she told me, “You felt so warm.” Perhaps the body knows things before the brain does. Life is a mystery, and I want to hold onto that mystery, because there is no reason we should have met each other, growing up on opposite sides of the world, to meet under such particular circumstances. That spark led to another meeting, and then another... 

So it goes.

One year later we were engaged. Unlike most other times in my life, there is no inner conflict, no hesitation. Sure, there are “What if…?” lines of inquiry, as per usual. But the one line of inquiry that sets me straight is the one that goes, “What if I had never met Ani?” It sets me straight because I know the answer to that one: I would be writing this end-of-year review as per usual, likely on a tropical beach somewhere, likely alone, and happy enough, because I am perfectly fine enjoying my own company (and the company of books), and I would be describing some incredible moments from the past year.

But I would not be describing what I suppose I’m describing now: a change in trajectory, a revolution of priorities. Without Ani I would have been happy; with Ani I know I will be happier.

OF LOGISTICS AND A DOG BITE

So the year beat on. In November, I brought my cross country team to the championships in Kiev, Ukraine, and got bit by an unclaimed dog in the middle of the coaches race. Spent my November getting injections of rabies vaccine by a no-nonsense nurse at the Anti-Rabic Clinic here in the city.

We enjoyed a three-day weekend at the end of November in Milan, Italy, visiting with an old friend and taking engagement photos with an iPhone X. I celebrated my 37th birthday on a rare sunny day in Milan, eating turkey at a belated Thanksgiving Day feast. 

Throughout the fall, Ani and I spent many an evening planning the logistics of when and where we would get married in Romania (in front of the legal authorities) and in Sagres, Portugal (in front of family), as well as the insane amount of bureaucratic paperwork needed to fulfill the requirements here in Romania.

Ani and I have no plans to return to the United States to “settle down.” We met as global citizens of the world, and we intend to stay that way, at least for the time being. As of today, I have spent a little over 5 years of my adult life living abroad, in places all over the world. I feel at home in the world now, and building a cross-cultural, multi-lingual family seems to be my ultimate fate, happily.

THE REBALANCING OF HIGH & LOW

Well, so much for the highs. Sometime in September, I thought, “I’ve been lucky so far, because I have only lost my grandparents, and that was long ago. But...it’s only a matter of time.” And that time came in early October, with the passing of my Uncle Remi. He was 76 years old. My parents flew to Chicago to attend his funeral, as well as take care of his final arrangements. He was living in his family home at the time, and now that house, which had been in my family’s possession for over 70 years, will be up for sale.

Then, on the evening of December 7th, I got a call from my brother. I was in the middle of my school’s holiday party, at the Marriott Hotel, when he told me our sister had passed away. She was 47 years old. At one point, he mentioned that we knew this moment would come eventually, and I knew what he meant. In 2011 she had nearly died as a result of a critical MRSA infection. At that time I was in a far remote corner of Ethiopia, and the power and Internet was cut. My family was rushing to the hospital in Chicago, and I was rushing to catch a bus to somewhere with a phone signal. She miraculously recovered from that scary episode, and so I like to think that she was blessed with eight more years of life. Eight more years to make memories with her daughter, and to see her daughter get married on a beach in Hawaii this past October, so happy and joyful.

After the news, I sucked it in as best as I could and went to work for three more days. Some colleagues wondered why I was at work. Where else would I be, I thought, on the couch moping? No, it was better to see the faces of my students, to let them know what happened, so they saw me as a frail human. And they were so kind about it. About seven students from my 6th grade English class even surprised me with kind notes attached to my door, reminding me of the spirit of giving and generosity in our darkest month of December.

I flew to Chicago on a Thursday, arriving late, hosted by my cousin Jeremy. Despite the circumstances, it was satisfying to catch up with some of my family still living in Chicago, such as my cousins Jeremy, Harmony, Mike, and uncles Steve, Ben, and John, and aunts Linda, Pam, and Kathy. As well, meeting my cousins’ tiny children for the first time was a diamond in the rough.

The night before the funeral, my brother Jonah, his wife LuAnne, and my brother Phil, all of whom just arrived by air, picked me up from my cousin’s house. We congregated at the Hampton Inn, in Lisle, Illinois, where several folks were staying for the weekend, to put together three large photo-collages that would be displayed at the funeral. Elisha’s step-sister, Melissa, had collected arts and crafts supplies from the daycare she runs, and we all got to work, including my niece Skye and her husband, David. Together, we all did our best to piece together Elisha’s life from images collected from several sources across the ages. It was hard not to dwell too long on this treasure trove of images, some of which we had never seen until now, and before too long it was nearly midnight.

What is there to say about funerals? Are they really for the deceased? Or are they for the living?

As family and friends came together at the funeral home for a two-hour moment in time, we paid our respects to Elisha, and we paid our respects to each other. I met people for the first time, and I reunited with people I had only met once, long ago. The photo-collages were beautiful, but it was the photo album that my Uncle Steve brought—ones that held Elisha’s baby photos, when she ran and frolicked on the farms and coastal beaches of Oregon—that choked me up the most.

Every time I got near my sister’s urn I choked back tears. Stupid as it sounds, because I didn’t have any tissue on hand, I stifled the tears. But when the funeral parlor director came out to ask everyone to take a seat, or take a knee, while he said a prayer, I found some tissues, and the tears burst forth.

Then he asked everyone except the immediate family to walk past the urn and pay their final respects. I did not, could not, look up. More tears.

Then he asked the immediate family to come forward. We made a half-circle in front of the urn, in all its rainbow-hued splendor, reflecting my sister’s colorful character, sitting there amidst the expensive floral arrangement paid for by my Uncle Steve (“For these types of things you call the professionals”). More tears from me—and the funeral director told what amounted to an anecdote about his own mother’s passing as a way to lighten the mood. Later, Jonah would ask, “You think he tells the same story at every funeral?”

He probably does tell the same story. Because it’s always the same story. Loss is loss. Grief is grief. He can tell us all about how it will only be “a little while—hopefully not too soon! (haha)” before we see our loved one again in the metaphysical afterlife, but, believers or non-believers, it does not take away the pain of the present moment.

Even so, the funeral was over, and it was time to pack up the cars full of flowers and photo albums and an urn, and head over to Q’s for the reception, where the menu was Italian-American to the max, including what my vegetarian brother described, accurately, as a “meat salad.”

The remainder of the days in Chicago were for hanging out. Being together. One-by-one, people flew home, and I stayed until Tuesday so that this “hanging out” would not be rushed. My cousin Jeremy took Friday and Monday off work, as far as I could tell, just to hang out with me. In many ways, this trip was an extension of my summer trip back to the U.S. No matter how far I fling myself out in the world, the Great Magnet always reels me in, back to Chicago, back to Oregon, back to the Rocky Mountain West, back to the Pacific Ocean, back to Doug fir trees, sand dunes, and the coastal river valleys, where campfire smoke always drifts downwind, and where an ageless youth laughs out loud, in a cackle, at the glee and sheer terror of catching a crawdad.

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

The final half of December I spent with Ani as we celebrated the Christmas spirit at three locations throughout Transylvania, in Romania, each place unique. The first place, Sinaia, is known for its mountain peaks on all sides. We intended to go skiing, but the snow report stunk, so we went hiking instead. Then we moved on to Cund, a small, quiet village in what is known as the Saxon part of Romania, a place with a strong German heritage, and fortified churches. We sat by a roasting wood-stove, watched movies, and went on a meandering ridge-line hike in the mist. Finally we moved on to Sibiu, a small city that resembles a storybook German village than anything you typically find in Romania. They have one of the largest Christmas Markets in Eastern Europe, and it is exquisitely framed by a picture-postcard square, with buildings that have droopy eyelid windows in the roof, so it looks like you are being watched.

And, who knows, maybe we are being watched over.

There is much to be thankful for in the year 2019. For me, a solid job I am passionate about, a fiancée who sticks by my side through thick and thin, and the good health to still run my legs through the forest at a fast speed, rabid dogs notwithstanding.

There is so much to look forward to in 2020, up to and including:

In February, travel to Ethiopia, with a group of five other colleagues

In March, Ani’s cousin’s wedding, in Togliatti, Russia

In April, travel to Armenia, to visit my newly adopted motherland

In June, our family wedding in Sagres, Portugal

In July, a possible bike tour :))

I welcome this new decade, like a new chapter, with open arms.

[tsurasss]

Thoughts on The OA

Okay, I have a lot of thoughts on this show. I just finished it today and the story took yet another sharp turn in the last half hour that I wasn’t expecting (well, I was kind of expecting it to throw us a curve-ball, but not one as mind-fucking as this). I loved this show and its themes, even if it did disappoint me by the final episode. It left almost EVERYTHING up to interpretation, but I think that’s the point and I have to give them credit for that. It’s probably the first show in a long time that I’m going to rewatch almost immediately just to pick up what I missed, and overall process it again. Better clear the diary... 

 So I wasn’t that impressed when I started watching The OA. I really disliked Steve and was concerned that he was going to be the focus of the whole plot. Nonetheless, the aesthetic and understated tone to the show kept me watching. Then things starting picking up when Prairie (dumb name, let’s be real) started telling her story, and revealed that she had been a child of a wealthy Russian businessman. A young Prairie was travelling in a bus which was hit by the Russian mafia in retaliation against her father, resulting in a near death experience which seemed to give her an affinity with the so-called ‘afterlife’, the ‘great beyond’, or some other ‘dimension’. That was intriguing to me. The moment I was really hooked though, was when Prairie is kidnapped by the seemingly well-intentioned doctor named Hap and discovers she is trapped in a glass tank (read: greenhouse) with three other weary hostages (who also turn out to have been to the ‘other side’ and returned following a near death experience). They are now unwilling participants in an experiment to find out if there really is life after death, and what that means.

 This was a very interesting scenario to me. And for about five episodes, the show was pretty much what I wanted - a compelling character drama with a heavy sci-fi element, beautifully shot and imbued with tension from the get-go. I wanted to know about how this group of captives coped with their situation, how they functioned as a found family (I’m a sucker for that) and how they relentlessly tried (and failed) to escape together. Here was a fairly small, contained plot, with plenty of room to explore the characters, the situation, and even ethics (I’ll get on to that). In terms of characters, I liked how they all reacted differently to captivity: Prairie was the idealistic, selfless one, Scott was the angry, mentally-fraught one, Rachel was the quiet, introspective one, and Homer was the rational, outwardly-stable one. Of course, by the end, we can see how each captive may have represented a different facet of Prairie’s psyche while kidnapped, but I’d like to think they did exist - that it was all real. We spent so long watching them work together, console each other, try to escape together (7 bloody years), even fall in love with each other (for once I was on board with this - it made sense to me that Homer and Prairie would fall for each other, given how much they were relying on each other for psychological survival). So, to think that they never existed, even Hap’s lab having never existed, is weird to me. There is evidence to suggest that yes, they did exist, the Hap situation happened (no pun intended) but there’s also compelling evidence that it didn’t. However, for the sake of storytelling and the type of stories I like, I’m going with they did exist. 

 This plot also allowed for the development of Hap as a very complex and interesting antagonist. Because, despite him being a deceitful, kidnapping bastard, I understood where he was coming from (I’m definitely not trying to excuse him of any abusive behaviours, I’m just saying he was well-characterised and contributed well to the story in this sense). He wanted to study NDEs, find evidence of an afterlife and put billions of minds (and perhaps, importantly, his own) at ease. He knew that nobody in their right mind would ever volunteer for the horrible experiments he had in mind, so he sees no option but to kidnap potential subjects and hold them against their will. We can see that he feels guilt (he says as much to his old associate - which to me also suggests that this is part of a larger operation of experiments and research and therefore DID happen). He grants Prairie, Homer, Scott and Rachel the mercy of gassing them before the experiments so that they don’t remember the trauma of it (the gas also makes them compliant, but still). He even bothers to keep them in a - relatively - nice prison complete with artsy interior design, temperature-control and running spring water. He feels insecure and almost left out when the captives start to form an internal community down in the basement, his potential feelings for Prairie notwithstanding (which is creepy - yes, despite his intentions, Hap is still a pretty depraved person).   

Anyway, this is what I’d have liked the whole of the series to focus on: the inter-character drama and their efforts to escape a sadistic doctor’s basement, with the added mystery of potentially travelling to the ‘other side’ and coming back, and whatever that means. In fairness, it did focus on this until the very last episode. Honestly, I did like some aspects of the ‘present’ timeline and the five characters there, especially little Buck and Betty the teacher. I just found Hap’s basement more compelling - I think part of me wanted to see that rag-tag group actually physically set out to find the captives, figurative guns blazing, and free them, or at least make their own connection with, and discoveries about, the ‘afterlife’ alluded to throughout the show. But then the show started to get weird after about episode 6, particularly when they introduced the idea of movements, which I wasn’t a huge fan of. 

 Don’t get me wrong, I liked the movements themselves. I thought they played nicely into the themes of faith, ritualism and shamanism which seemed to be woven through the story, and that I still feel are the big take-aways of the show as it stands. But the plot started to unravel and collapse under itself a bit after that. I understand that’s the point of the show, to throw everything into question and get people discussing it as I’m doing now, but I just feel like the movements and dancing and totems they gained from their visits to the afterlife allowing them to open a ‘celestial gate’ was just a bit... dumb. It  I was hoping for something more straightforward, something more directly linked to the experiments Hap was bothering to perform the whole time. I also kind of disliked the fact that Prairie started to call the captives ‘angels’ outright. It was nice symbolism, but I’m glad her mum slapped her in Olive Garden for saying she was the ‘original angel’, because that seemed a little heavy-handed, to the point of self-righteous delusion. But again, maybe that’s the point. This, as well as the faith/ritualistic themes, screamed ‘cult’ to me, which is kind of what the present timeline group were becoming with Prairie. None of this negates the fact that Homer, Hap and the others existed, and it leaves a lot to be explored in season 2 (fingers crossed). 

 So, lastly, here’s why I think the ordeal in Hap’s basement was real, and the other captives (at the very least, Homer) existed. Firstly and most importantly, why explore and develop that scenario so extensively (particularly Hap and the ‘scientific’ element of it) and get us so invested if it never actually happened? It would make half the series feel utterly pointless, and I’d like to the think that’s not a creative choice the writers would make. Also, the other captives had explicit NDE backstories, which I can’t think why Prairie would make up. Scott was a street kid from Pennsylvania who was terminally ill (Leukaemia?) or had a drug overdose. Rachel had a car accident that killed her little brother. Homer was a high school or college student who broke his neck playing football - there is evidence of this as well, as Prairie finds an interview with him after the fact on Youtube. So we know Homer did exist, but we don’t know for sure if he existed in the basement with Prairie. But if Prairie made him up, why would she use a random stranger’s likeness and just happen to use his actual name? Why would she invent that storyline about Hap taking him to Cuba and having sex with that woman? It doesn’t make sense. At the very end of the last episode as well, she wakes up in a room that looks like a hospital. Homer’s NDE dreamscape is a hospital. I can’t say with as much certainty for the others, but I’m pretty sure Homer does exist. I’d like to think he and the others were with her in the basement, but it could possibly be that Homer exists in another ‘dimension’, though I don’t favour this idea. Nonetheless, all this seems to be a lead-in to a possible season 2.

The counter-theory that Prairie is severely mentally ill and has made up this elaborate story to cope with loss, trauma and being abused for seven years by some random creep, which the downtrodden group in the present timeline is latching on to in order to cope with their own lives, is very valid also - I mean, why the hell didn’t Prairie just talk to the FBI straight up about Hap and the captives, and let them intervene? Why was she so indirect about it? But I think for it all to be made-up is too convenient, and doesn’t explain all the sci-fi/fantasy elements we were made to invest in from the off. 

 That said, I think the ‘afterlife’ and NDE dreamscapes in this show are real, if very open to interpretation. I definitely think the movements and dancing were about having faith, surrendering to faith in that other ‘dimension’ or ‘afterlife’ in the face of adversity, which was demonstrated at the very end where the present timeline group perform the ritual dance in front of a school shooter, despite the high chance they could get their heads blown off. I also think that FBI ‘victim support guy’ was very shady as well - the fact he was in Prairie’s house at night suggests he may have planted the conveniently-titled books to discredit her, which leads me to think that perhaps the government or a corporation knew about the experiments and were possibly helping fund them. Like I said, the books were too conveniently titled and weren’t even in braille, as they would surely have been before she went missing. The book Iliad by Homer doesn’t mean a huge amount either, as we’ve seen Homer Roberts is a real person from the Youtube video.  

Final thoughts: I liked Scott and don’t think he deserves hate (even if he did snitch on Prairie). Dude was probably a drug addict who lived on the streets, who had no family and was likely the most emotionally and physically fragile of the group - I thought his reactions to living in captivity were quite reasonable all considered. I liked how initially, he and Homer were hopeless and nihilistic about the whole thing, before Prairie came and rallied them together toward escape. I did think it was weird how Homer became a lot less angry and never mentioned his son ever again after the third episode (or maybe he did, but it just wasn’t shown), as that seemed to be his main motivation. That could’ve just been the result of several years of isolation or even Prairie’s influence (I’m thinking the former) but somebody did have the idea that the Homer actually died in captivity early on, leading to his increasingly romanticised portrayal by Prairie, who uses his image to cope with her situation. I don’t think so though. If the show had chosen to focus more on the basement group themselves, Homer’s motivations (as well as those of the rest of the group) would’ve been a nice thing to explore. But again, maybe this is something that could be explored in a second season. 

There’s a lot more I could say about this show honestly. Overall, I really frickin’ enjoyed The OA because it made me think (and apparently write an essay) about it, though admittedly I did like some aspects of the story more than others. I love when something gets me thinking about it this way (hey Cursed Child) for bad or for good - I can appreciate it as a creative thing that is supposed to prompt discussion and emotion (can I call it art?). Anyway, I hope it gets a second season, because I want to know whether or not Prairie’s story is true. I’m of the belief that it’s about 70% true. Though I fear the point is that it doesn’t really matter...

[leonismaior]

my love @cilophyte​ was sweet enough to tag me on this cute meme even though i’m all but invisible lately on tumblr. thanks for thinking of me, dale bby♥

the last

1. drink: coca cola 2. phone call: my dad 3. text message: my friend lola 4. song you listened to: rhymes like dimes - mf doom  6. dated someone twice: i’ve...never...dated... 7. kissed someone and regretted it: see question n.6

8. been cheated on: stop asking me dating stuff damnit

9. lost someone special: two best friends. (they dumped me, don’t worry, they’re alive) 10. been depressed: HA  11. gotten drunk and thrown up: i don’t drink so, no (i sense you will have noticed by now that i’m absolutely lame) 

3 favorite colors 12. gold 13. black 14. blue

in the last year have you 15. made new friends: ya 16. fallen out of love: with my teacher, once i learned she already had a gf and they’re super cute together 17. laughed until you cried: ya. i like it when that happens 18. found out someone was talking about you: sort of?? like, they were talking about me and some other people. that was new to me and it really feels shitty 19. met someone who changed you: yes 20. found out who your friends are: ...yep 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: stop this general 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: umm...idk man, like, an 85%? i have few so i’m pretty sure i know most of them 23. do you have any pets: pepper, aka chikis, a 5y/o mini schnauzer whom i love with my entire existence 24. do you want to change your name: i like my name, but if i had to change it i’d choose aurora 25. what did you do for your last birthday: spent the whole day at school, ate cake and then cried for hours because i felt like shit 26. what time did you wake up: like 10 am i think 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: watching deadpool with my sister 28. name something you can’t wait for: i was going to say death, but i didn’t want to sound so grim, and i remembered netflix’s defenders comes out next month so, that 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: like 20 mins ago before she went to bed

31. what are you listening to right now: i have rhymes like dimes on pause because i can’t write while listening to music, so, technically, i’m still listening to that 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: oh. actually no. i don’t think ‘’tom’’ is a very popular name in mexico 33. something that is getting on your nerves: the fucking  weather. i’ll take the russian winter over heat+humidity any fucking day

34. most visited website: lately, youtube. makeup vids are seriously terapheutic to me 35. hair colour: your average dark brown 36. long or short hair: SHORT. i’m cutting it again one of these days. as soon as i get money and motivation to do it 37. do you have a crush on someone: i’ve been in love with kate winslet since i was like 11, but rn i have a crush on a guy from college (he studies german and i find that pretty freaking attractive)  38. what do you like about yourself: lmao 39. piercings: nope 40. blood type: a+ 41. nickname: plenty, all embarrassing. ruthie is not so bad 42. relationship status: waiting for sophie turner to dump joe jonas and date me instead 43. zodiac: leo sun, libra moon

44. pronouns: i’ve only ever used she, and it’s fine, but i feel really comfortable with neutral pronouns, too. i can’t use them in spanish, but in english either she/her or they/them are okay for me 45. favourite tv show: i’m going to say sense8. (sidenote: dale!!!! i’m watching pushing daisies for the 4th time -this time with my sister- and i just love it so muuuuch)

46. tattoos: nope but i have a few ideas ♥ 47. right or left handed: right 48. surgery: nope and i’m glad cause i’m a coward 49. piercing: nope 50. sport: i’d love to practice basketball or baseball, but i’m too lazy. i did some track running when i was like 10 and, surprisingly, didn’t suck, but i never did that again 51. vacation: anywhere. i don’t get to visit many places 52. pair of trainers: i’m stuck with only sports/running shoes since a sprain fucked up my right foot more general 53. eating: nothing :( 54. drinking: coca cola  55. i’m about to: maybe watch a movie 56. waiting for: the sweet embrace of death? idk  57. want: undying self love and money 58. get married: only, and ONLY if i happen to miraculously find someone with whom i can be completely and comfortably myself, and that i finally feel at home with 59. career: anything, i swear, i just want not to struggle with money which is better 60. hugs or kisses: ehhh i’m not super into physical contact 61. lips or eyes: smiles 62. shorter or taller: taller 63. older or younger: older 64. nice arms or nice stomach: (omg dale you made me laugh) on me: nice stomach, on someone else: nice arms 65. hook up or relationship: whatever floats your boat, but idk for me. my oritentation is a mess 66. troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant. always always always 

have you ever 67. kissed a stranger:n o  68. drank hard liquor: nope 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: bwahahaahha yep 70. turned someone down: “… . i think you’re hugely overestimating my appeal” (Dale, 2017) 71. sex on the first date: based on my previous answers, i’m going to let ya’ll guess this one... 72. broken someone’s heart: i highly doubt that 73. had your heart broken: LMAO SON 74. been arrested: i don’t leave the house 75. cried when someone died: not really, but no one really important for me has died 76. fallen for a friend: : - ) do you believe in 77. yourself: who, sorry? 78. miracles: actually, yes 79. love at first sight: ummmmmmm...... i don’t know. maybe a 50% 80. santa claus: the  equivalent for me is los reyes magos (the three wise men, i think, i’m not sure, they’re a catholic thing probably idk) and yep, i did until i was like 8 and found all of my letters in my mom’s drawer 81. kiss on the first date:ya go for it (i probably wouldn’t do it tho)

82. angels: ehhhh idk  other 83. current best friend’s name: teresa 84. eye colour: your average dark brown 85. favourite movie: that’s hard but i’m going for treasure planet ♥

i have no energy to tag rn but i loved to do this and if someone wants to, tell me and i’ll tag you or consider yourself tagged by me♥